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