“I am very sorry, ma’am,” answered the maid.
“Ask the count to come to me.”
The count came waddling in to see his wife with a rather guilty look as usual.
“Well, little countess? What a sauté of game au madère we are to have, my dear! I tasted it. The thousand rubles I paid for Tarás were not ill-spent. He is worth it!”
He sat down by his wife, his elbows on his knees and his hands ruffling his gray hair.
“What are your commands, little countess?”
“You see, my dear … What’s that mess?” she said, pointing to his waistcoat. “It’s the sauté, most likely,” she added with a smile. “Well, you see, Count, I want some money.”
Her face became sad.
“Oh, little countess!” … and the count began bustling to get out his pocketbook.
“I want a great deal, Count! I want five hundred rubles,” and taking out her cambric handkerchief she began wiping her husband’s waistcoat.
“Yes, immediately, immediately! Hey, who’s there?” he called out in a tone only used by persons who are certain that those they call will rush to obey the summons. “Send Mítenka to me!”
Mítenka, a man of good family who had been brought up in the count’s house and now managed all his affairs, stepped softly into the room.