The door was opened slightly, and in the crack was thrust a head but not the head of Nezhdanov.
It was a little round head with rough black hair, a broad, wrinkled forehead, very keen, little brown eyes under bushy eyebrows, a nose pointing in the air like a duck's, and a tiny, rosy, comical mouth. This head took a look round, nodded, smiled─showing a number of tiny white teeth─and came into the room, accompanied by its rickety little body, short arms, and somewhat bandy and lame little legs. Directly Mashurina and Ostrodumov caught sight of this head, the faces of both expressed a sort of condescending contempt, as though each of them were inwardly saying, 'Oh! it's only he!' and they did not utter a single word, did not stir a muscle. However, the reception accorded him not only failed to embarrass the visitor, but apparently afforded him positive gratification.
'What's the meaning of this?' he said in a squeaky voice. 'A duet? Why not a trio? And where's the first tenor?'
'Do you mean to inquire after Nezhdanov, Mr. Paklin?' replied Ostrodumov with a serious face.
'Precisely so, Mr. Ostrodumov; I mean him.'
'He'll be here directly, most likely, Mr Paklin.'
7
