The handsome young man was pacing up and down the room with laboriously steady steps and a careworn expression on his face, warbling an air from The Revolt in the Serail . An elderly paterfamilias, tempted to come and hear the gipsies by the persistent entreaties of the noble gentlemen, who said that without him the thing would be worthless and it would be better not to go at all, was lying on a sofa where he had sunk as soon as he arrived, and no one took any notice of him. Some official or other who was there had taken off his swallowtail coat and was sitting up on the table feet and all, ruffling his hair and thereby demonstrating that he was very much on the spree. As soon as the Count entered, the official unbuttoned the collar of his shirt and got still further on to the table. In general, upon the arrival of the Count the carouse revived again.

The gipsies, who had wandered about the room, again gathered and sat down in a circle. The Count took Styóshka, the leading singer, on his knees, and ordered more champagne.