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Updated: June 24, 2025
Her mind was not quite set at ease. She interrupted him. "But the style, Abramka, the style! You can't possibly guess what the latest fashion is abroad." "Why shouldn't I know what the latest fashion is, Mrs. Zarubkin? In Kiev I have a friend who publishes fashion-plates. I will telegraph to him, and he will immediately send me pictures of the latest French models.
The telegram will cost only eighty cents, Mrs. Zarubkin, and I swear to you I will copy any dress he sends. Mrs. Shaldin can't possibly have a dress like that." "All very well and good, and that's what we'll do. Still we must wait until Mrs. Shaldin comes back. Don't you see, Abramka, I must have exactly the same style that she has?
I have no patience with you. Where are the fashion plates?" "Here, Mrs. Zarubkin." She turned the pages, looked at one picture after the other, and suddenly her eyes shone and her cheeks reddened. "Oh, Empire! The very thing. Empire is the very latest. Make this one for me," she cried commandingly. Abramka turned pale. "Ampeer, Mrs. Zarubkin? I can't make that Ampeer dress for you," he murmured.
Abramka reflected a moment, then said: "I assure you, Mrs. Zarubkin, you need not be a bit uneasy. I will make a dress for you that will be just as grand as the one from abroad. I assure you, your dress will be the most elegant one at the ball, just as it always has been. I tell you, my name won't be Abramka Stiftik if " His eager asseverations seemed not quite to satisfy the captain's wife.
"Only three days before the ball? A ball dress? Am I a god, Mrs. Zarubkin? I am nothing but the ladies' tailor, Abramka Stiftik." "Well, then you are a nice tailor!" said Tatyana Grigoryevna, scornfully. "In Moscow they made a ball dress for me in two days." Abramka jumped up as if at a shot, and beat his breast. "Is that so? Then I say, Mrs.
The captain said nothing. He was neither surprised nor insulted. On the contrary, the smile on his face was as though he had received a compliment. These wifely animadversions, probably oft-heard, by no means interfered with his domestic peace. "It can't be that the man doesn't know when his wife is coming back home," Mrs. Zarubkin continued excitedly.
Her appearance was blooming. Mrs. Shaldin was slim, though well proportioned. She was a brunette with a pale complexion and large dark eyes. They were two types of beauty very likely to divide the gentlemen of the regiment into two camps of admirers. But women are never content with halves. Mrs. Zarubkin wanted to see all the officers of the regiment at her feet, and so did Mrs. Shaldin.
"Yes, indeed, Mrs. Zarubkin, in only one week; unfortunately, only one week," replied Abramka, sighing. "But you remember your promise to make my dress for me for the ball this time?" "Mrs. Zarubkin," Abramka cried, laying his hand on his heart. "Have I said that I was not willing to make it? No, indeed, I said it must be made and made right for Mrs.
"I don't know what you are speaking of, Mrs. Zarubkin," Abramka rejoined. He assumed a somewhat injured manner. "Have you ever heard of Abramka ever babbling anything out? You certainly know that in my profession you know everybody has some secret to be kept." "Oh, you must have misunderstood me, Abramka. What sort of secrets do you mean?"
Zarubkin had the untarnished reputation of being the best-dressed of all the ladies. She was always the most distinguished looking at the annual ball. Her gown for the occasion, ordered from Moscow, was always chosen with the greatest regard for her charms and defects, and it was always exquisitely beautiful.
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