Knock, Knock, Knock and Other Stories Part 20

"By all means! But say what you like, you are a strange sister for Emilie! You are not in the least like her."

"Yes, I am sister ... cousin. Here ... take ... a flower. A nice flower. It smells." She took out of her girdle a sprig of white lilac, sniffed it, bit off a petal and gave him the whole sprig. "Will you have jam? Nice jam ... from Constantinople ... sorbet?" Colibri took from the small chest of drawers a gilt jar wrapped in a piece of crimson silk with steel spangles on it, a silver spoon, a cut gla.s.s decanter and a tumbler like it. "Eat some sorbet, sir; it is fine. I will sing to you.... Will you?" She took up the guitar.

"You sing, then?" asked Kuzma Va.s.silyevitch, putting a spoonful of really excellent sorbet into his mouth.

"Oh, yes!" She flung back her mane of hair, put her head on one side and struck several chords, looking carefully at the tips of her fingers and at the top of the guitar ... then suddenly began singing in a voice unexpectedly strong and agreeable, but guttural and to the ears of Kuzma Va.s.silyevitch rather savage. "Oh, you pretty kitten," he thought. She sang a mournful song, utterly un-Russian and in a language quite unknown to Kuzma Va.s.silyevitch. He used to declare that the sounds "Kha, gha" kept recurring in it and at the end she repeated a long drawn-out "sintamar" or "sintsimar," or something of the sort, leaned her head on her hand, heaved a sigh and let the guitar drop on her knee. "Good?" she asked, "want more?"

"I should be delighted," answered Kuzma Va.s.silyevitch. "But why do you look like that, as though you were grieving? You'd better have some sorbet."

"No ... you. And I will again.... It will be more merry." She sang another song, that sounded like a dance, in the same unknown language.

Again Kuzma Va.s.silyevitch distinguished the same guttural sounds. Her swarthy fingers fairly raced over the strings, "like little spiders,"

and she ended up this time with a jaunty shout of "Ganda" or "Ga.s.sa,"

and with flas.h.i.+ng eyes banged on the table with her little fist.

XVI

Kuzma Va.s.silyevitch sat as though he were in a dream. His head was going round. It was all so unexpected.... And the scent, the singing ... the candles in the daytime ... the sorbet flavoured with vanilla. And Colibri kept coming closer to him, too; her hair shone and rustled, and there was a glow of warmth from her--and that melancholy face.... "A russalka!" thought Kuzma Va.s.silyevitch. He felt somewhat awkward.

"Tell me, my pretty, what put it into your head to invite me to-day?"

"You are young, pretty ... such I like."

"So that's it! But what will Emilie say? She wrote me a letter: she is sure to be back directly."

"You not tell her ... nothing! Trouble! She will kill!"

Kuzma Va.s.silyevitch laughed.

"As though she were so fierce!"

Colibri gravely shook her head several times.

"And to Madame Fritsche, too, nothing. No, no, no!" She tapped herself lightly on the forehead. "Do you understand, officer?"

Kuzma Va.s.silyevitch frowned.

"It's a secret, then?"

"Yes ... yes."

"Very well.... I won't say a word. Only you ought to give me a kiss for that."

"No, afterwards ... when you are gone."

"That's a fine idea!" Kuzma Va.s.silyevitch was bending down to her but she slowly drew herself back and stood stiffly erect like a snake startled in the gra.s.s. Kuzma Va.s.silyevitch stared at her. "Well!" he said at last, "you are a spiteful thing! All right, then."

Colibri pondered and turned to the lieutenant.... All at once there was the m.u.f.fled sound of tapping repeated three times at even intervals somewhere in the house. Colibri laughed, almost snorted.

"To-day--no, to-morrow--yes. Come to-morrow."

"At what time?"

"Seven ... in the evening."

"And what about Emilie?"

"Emilie ... no; will not be here."

"You think so? Very well. Only, to-morrow you will tell me?"

"What?" (Colibri's face a.s.sumed a childish expression every time she asked a question.)

"Why you have been hiding away from me all this time?"

"Yes ... yes; everything shall be to-morrow; the end shall be."

"Mind now! And I'll bring you a present."

"No ... no need."

"Why not? I see you like fine clothes."

"No need. This ... this ... this ..." she pointed to her dress, her rings, her bracelets, and everything about her, "it is all my own. Not a present. I do not take."

"As you like. And now must I go?"

"Oh, yes."

Kuzma Va.s.silyevitch got up. Colibri got up, too.

"Good-bye, pretty little doll! And when will you give me a kiss?"

Colibri suddenly gave a little jump and swiftly flinging both arms round his neck, gave him not precisely a kiss but a peck at his lips.

He tried in his turn to kiss her but she instantly darted back and stood behind the sofa.

"To-morrow at seven o'clock, then?" he said with some confusion.

She nodded and taking a tress of her long hair with her two fingers, bit it with her sharp teeth.

Kuzma Va.s.silyevitch kissed his hand to her, went out and shut the door after him. He heard Colibri run up to it at once.... The key clicked in the lock.

XVII

There was no one in Madame Fritsche's drawing-room. Kuzma Va.s.silyevitch made his way to the pa.s.sage at once. He did not want to meet Emilie. Madame Fritsche met him on the steps.

"Ah, you are going, Mr. Lieutenant?" she said, with the same affected and sinister smile. "You won't wait for Emilie?"

Kuzma Va.s.silyevitch put on his cap.