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Updated: May 25, 2025
"Kiss it! ..." impressively and firmly pronounced Emma Edwardovna, narrowing her eyes and with head thrown back, in the magnificent pose of a princess ascending her throne. Ninka was so bewildered that her right arm gave a jerk in order to make the sign of the cross; but she corrected herself, loudly smacked the extended hand, and stepped aside.
But the precipitate Niura, who could never keep her tongue behind her teeth, suddenly shot oat in rapid patter: "It's because Sergei Ivanich gave him one in the snout ... On account of Ninka. A certain old man came to Ninka ... And stayed for the night ... And Ninka had the flowers ... And the old man was torturing her all the time ... So Ninka started crying and ran away."
"But Ninka says: 'I, she says, 'won't stay with him for anything, though you cut me all to pieces ... He, she says, 'has made me all wet with his spit. Well, the old man complained to the porter, to be sure, and the porter starts in to beat up Ninka, to be sure. And Sergei Ivanich at this time was writing for me a letter home, to the province, and when he heard that Ninka was hollering..."
On the next day, on Monday, toward ten o'clock in the morning, almost all the inmates of the house formerly Madam Shaibes', but now Emma Edwardovna Titzner's rode off in cabs to the centre of the city, to the anatomical theatre all, except the far-sighted, much-experienced Henrietta; the cowardly and insensible Ninka; and the feeble-minded Pashka, who for two days now had not gotten up from her bed, kept silent, and to questions directed at her answered by a beatific, idiotical smile and with some sort of inarticulate animal lowing.
And all the rest of you come up in turn." Ninka irresolutely walked right up to Emma Edwardovna and even staggered back in amazement: Emma Edwardovna was extending her right hand to her, with the fingers lowered downward, and slowly nearing it to Ninka's lips.
He was already pretty far gone in drink, stood leaning against the wall, in a provoking pose, and was nervously chewing a cigarette. "Which Ninka is this?" asked Yarchenko with curiosity. "Is she here?" "No, she isn't here. Such a small, pug-nosed little girl. Naive and very angry." The reporter suddenly and sincerely burst into laughter.
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