.. It was clear, she
was in some intrigue as usual, and it had led her too far.
Possibly she is after me.... And besides--her very presence would
affect my work, and endanger myself. "I must give her something to
eat, and then get out of here. The L. would keep me for a while,
and then I shall go away. Let her stay in this house with all of her
strange intrigues, for I cannot throw her out."
Thus trying to understand, I finished my cooking and asked her to the
_salle-a-manger_--the same little kitchen.
But no matter how proud I felt of my housekeeping, the Baroness found
fault with everything. "Don't _we_ have a table cloth? Or napkins?
What are these daggers for?"
"Good God, Syvorotka," she said, "_we_ cannot live in such a miserable
way. I'll have to change it. There are no reasons why _we_ should
revert to cannibalism!"
Talking in that manner, jumping from one subject to another and always
very nervously, she arranged the table more or less decently, and even
put the salt in the lid of a little powder box. "Now," she said, "I
want you to wash your hands, and comb your hair, and brush your khaki,
and ..." until I got almost civilized.
When we were through with the meal and a half of bottle of beer (they
call "beer" this indecent looking beverage in Tumen) I asked her what
brought her to Tumen?
She told me some story--of which I believed only the fact that she
was here, in my house, and that a great embarrassment had fallen on my
shoulders.
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