pped near, listens to her words and asks haughtily:

"Who was it said that?"

"Why, my little Georgian, Levan. 'Both for you death and for me death.'"

"Fool! He isn't any little Georgian at all, but simply a common
Armenian. You're a crazy fool."

"Oh no, he isn't--he's a Georgian. And it is quite strange on your
part..."

"I'm telling you--a common Armenian. I can tell better. Fool!"

"What are you cursing for, Jennie? I didn't start cursing you first
off, did I?"

"You just try and be the first to start cursing! Fool! Isn't it all the
same to you what he is? Are you in love with him, or what?"

"Well, I am in love with him!"

"Well, and you're a fool. And the one with the badge in his cap, the
lame one--are you in love with him too?"

"Well, what of it? I respect him very much. He is very respectable."

"And with Nicky the Book-keeper? And with the contractor? And with
Antoshka-Kartoshka?[4] And with the fat actor? Oo-ooh, you shameless
creature!" Jennie suddenly cries out. "I can't look at you without
disgust. You're a bitch! In your place, if I was such a miserable
thing, I'd rather lay hands on myself, strangle myself with a cord from
my corset. You vermin!"

[4] Tony the Potato.--Trans.

Pasha silently lowers her eyelashes over her tear-filled eyes. Manya
tries to defend her.

"Really, what are you carrying on like that for, Jennechka? What are
you down on her like that for..."

"Eh, all of you are fine!" Jennie sharply cuts her short. "No
self-respect of any sort! Some scum comes along, buys you like a piece
of meat, hires you like a cabby, at a fixed rate, for love for an hour,
but you go all to pieces: 'Ah, my little lover! Ah, what unearthly
passion!' Ugh!" she spat in disgust.

She wrathfully turns her back upon them and continues to promenade on a
diagonal through the room, swinging her hips and blinking at herself in
every mirror.

During this time Isaac Davidovich, the piano player, is still
struggling with the refractory violinist.

"Not that way, not that way, Isaiah Savvich. You throw the fiddle away
for one little minute. Listen a little to me. Here is the tune."

He plays with one finger and hums in that horrible goatish voice that
all musical directors--for which calling he had been at one time
preparing--possess.

"Ess-tam, ess-tam, ess-tiam-tiam. Well, now, repeat after me the first
part, first time off..... Well..... ein, zwei..."

Their rehearsal is being attentiv