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"No ... I don't understand ..." meditatively drawled Rovinskaya, without looking the German in the eyes, but casting hers on the floor. "I've heard a great deal of your life here, in these ... what do you call them? .. these houses. They say it is something horrible. That you're forced to love the most repulsive, old and hideous men, that you are plucked and exploited in the most cruel manner ..."
Jennka whispered something into her ear. "Why, that's a silly trifle," said Rovinskaya. "A few months of treatment and it will all go away." "No, no, no ... I want to make all of them diseased. Let them all rot and croak." "Ah, my dear," said Rovinskaya, "I would not do that in your place."
Rovinskaya maliciously pressed Chaplinsky's elbow to her side. "To a brothel?" Volodya did not answer anything. Then she said: "And so, you'll carry us at once over there in the automobile and acquaint us with this existence, which is foreign to me. But remember, that I rely upon your protection."
"He will come right away," said Rovinskaya, hanging up the receiver. "He is a charming and awfully clever man. Everything is possible to him, even the almost impossible to man ... But in the meantime ... pardon me your name?" Tamara was abashed, but then smiled at herself: "Oh, it isn't worth your disturbing yourself, Ellena Victorovna!
Rovinskaya, with a languid air, again applied the tips of her fingers to her temples. "Ah, really, I am so upset, my dear Ryazanov," said she, intentionally extinguishing the sparkle of her magnificent eyes, "and then, my miserable head ... May I trouble you to pass me the pyramidon what-not from that table ... Let Mile.
On the way to Yamskaya Street Rovinskaya said to Chaplinsky: "You'll bring me at first into the most luxurious place, then into a medium one, and then into the filthiest." "My dear Ellena Victorovna," warmly retorted Chaplinsky, "I'm ready to do everything for you.
In one of these cabinets four were sitting two ladies and two men; an artiste known to all Russia, the cantatrice Rovinskaya, a large, handsome woman, with long, green, Egyptian eyes, and a long, red, sensuous mouth, the lips of which were rapaciously drooping at the corners; the baroness Tefting, little, exquisite, pale she was everywhere seen with the artiste; the famous lawyer Ryazanov; and Volodya Chaplinsky, a rich young man of the world, a composer-dilettante, the author of several darling little ballads and many witticisms upon the topics of the day, which circulated all over town.
"But, listen to me, mein Fraulein!" Rovinskaya was amazed. "You are young, handsome, know two languages ..." "Three, madam," proudly put in the German. "I know Esthonian as well. I finished the municipal school and three classes of high school." "Well, then, you see, you see ..." Rovinskaya became heated.
"Ah, my God," impatiently interrupted Rovinskaya; "when I was singing in London, there were many at that time paying court to me, and I did not hesitate to go and see the filthiest dens of Whitechapel in a choice company. I will say, that I was treated there very carefully and anticipatingly.
Rovinskaya, of course, had recalled both the mad escapade of that evening; and the striking, unforgettable face of Tamara; but now, in a bad mood, in the wearisome, prosaic light of an autumn day, this adventure appeared to her as unnecessary bravado; something artificial, imagined, and poignantly shameful.
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