years—the elections, I mean. You should at least have a look at our young ladies, Count!”
“Sáshka, get my clean linen ready; I am going to the bath,” said the Count, rising, “and from there perhaps I may run in to the Marshal’s.”
Then, having called the waiter and whispered something to him, to which the latter answered with a smile, “That can all be managed,” he went out.
“So I’ll order my trunk to be taken to your room, old fellow,” shouted the Count from the passage.
“Please do, I shall be most happy,” replied the cavalryman, running to the door; “ No. 7—don’t forget.”
When the Count’s footsteps could no longer be heard, the cavalryman returned to his place, and sitting close to one of the group, a Government official, and looking him straight in the face with smiling eyes, he said—
“It is the very man, you know.”
“No?”
“I tell you it is; it is the very same duellist hussar—the famous Toúrbin. He knew me—I bet you anything he knew me. Why, he and I went on the spree for three weeks without a break when I was at Lebedyáni for remounts. There was one thing—he and I did together. … He’s a fine fellow, eh?”
“A splendid fellow. And so pleasant in his manner! Doesn’t show a grain of—what d’you call it?” answered the handsome young man. “How quickly we became intimate. … He’s not more than twenty-five, is he?”