splendour of my attire; at any rate he smiled and invited me to to-day’s assembly. But I am a perfect stranger in Petersburg; during the course of my six years’ absence I have quite forgotten the local customs; pray be my mentor; come with me and introduce me.”
Ibrahim agreed to do so, and hastened to turn the con- versation to a subject that was more interesting to him.
“Well, and how about the Countess L——."
“The Countess? Of course, at first she was very much grieved on account of your departure; then, of course, little by little, she grew reconciled and took unto herself a new lover: do you know whom? The long-legged Marquis R——. Why do you show the whites of your negro eyes in that manner? Does it seem strange to you? Don’t you know that lasting grief is not in human nature, particularly in feminine nature? Think over this well, while I go and rest after my journey, and don’t forget to come and call for me.”
What feelings filled the soul of Ibrahim? Jealousy? Rage? Despair? No, but a deep, oppressing sorrow. He repeated to himself: “I foresaw it, it had to happen.” Then he opened the Countess’s letter, read it again, hung his head and wept bitterly. He wept for a long time. The tears relieved his heart. Looking at the clock, he perceived that it was time to set out. Ibrahim would have been very glad to stay away, but the assembly was a matter of duty, and the Emperor strictly demanded the presence of his retainers. He dressed himself and started out to call for Korsakoff.
Korsakoff was sitting in his dressing-gown, reading a French book.
“So early?” he said to Ibrahim, on seeing him.
"Pardon me,” the latter replied; "it is already half-past five, we shall be late; make haste and dress and let us go.”
