SERGE KAPITONICH AHINEEV, the writing master, was marrying
his daughter to the teacher of history and geography. The
wedding festivities were going off most successfully. In the
drawing room there was singing, playing, and dancing. Waiters
hired from the club were flitting distractedly about the rooms,
dressed in black swallowtails and dirty white ties. There was a
continual hubub and din of conversation. Sitting side by side on
the sofa, the teacher of mathematics, the French teacher, and the
junior assessor of taxes were talking hurriedly and interrupting
one another as they described to the guests cases of persons
being buried alive, and gave their opinions on spiritualism. None
of them believed in spiritualism, but all admitted that there were
many things in this world which would always be beyond the mind
of man. In the next room the literature master was explaining to
the visitors the cases in which a sentry has the right to fire on
passers-by. The subjects, as you perceive, were alarming, but
very agreeable. Persons whose social position precluded them
from entering were looking in at the windows from the yard.
Just at midnight the master of the house went into the kitchen to
see whether everything was ready for supper. The kitchen from
floor to ceiling was filled with fumes composed of goose, duck,
and many other odours. On two tables the accessories, the drinks
and light refreshments, were set out in artistic disorder. The cook,
Marfa, a red-faced woman whose figure was like a barrel with a
belt around it, was bustling about the tables.
"Show me the sturgeon, Marfa," said Ahineev, rubbing his hands
and licking his lips. "What a perfume! I could eat up the whole
kitchen. Come, show me the sturgeon."
Marfa went up to one of the benches and cautiously lifted a piece
of greasy newspaper. Under the paper on an immense dish there
reposed a huge sturgeon, masked in jelly and decorated with
capers, olives, and carrots.
Ahineev gazed at the sturgeon and gasped. His face beam