to Matrena Petrovna. "It looks like a splendid one."

"It has very fine works," said the general. "It was bequeathed to me by
my grandfather. It marks the seconds, and the phases of the moon, and
sounds the hours and half-hours."

Rouletabille bent over the watch, admiring it.

"You expect M. Koupriane for dinner?" inquired the young man, still
examining the watch.

"Yes, but since he is so late, we'll not delay any longer. Your healths,
my children," said the general as Rouletabille handed him back the watch
and he put it in his pocket.

"Your health, Feodor Feodorovitch," replied Matrena Petrovna, with her
usual tenderness.

Rouletabille and Natacha only touched their lips to the vodka, but
Feodor Feodorovitch and Matrena drank theirs in the Russian fashion,
head back and all at a draught, draining it to the bottom and flinging
the contents to the back of the throat. They had no more than performed
this gesture when the general uttered an oath and tried to expel what he
had drained so heartily. Matrena Petrovna spat violently also, looking
with horror at her husband.

"What is it? What has someone put in the vodka?" cried Feodor.

"What has someone put in the vodka?" repeated Matrena Petrovna in a
thick voice, her eyes almost starting from her head.

The two young people threw themselves upon the unfortunates. Feodor's
face had an expression of atrocious suffering.

"We are poisoned," cried the general, in the midst of his chokings. "I
am burning inside."

Almost mad, Natacha took her father's head in her hands. She cried to
him:

"Vomit, papa; vomit!"

"We must find an emetic," cried Rauletabille, holding on to the general,
who had almost slipped from his arms.

Matrena Petrovna, whose gagging noises were violent, hurried down the
steps of the kiosk, crossed the garden as though wild-fire were
behind her, and bounded into the veranda. During this time the general
succeeded in easing himself, thanks to Rouletabille, who had thrust a
spoon to the root of his tongue. Natacha could do nothing but cry, "My
God, my God, my God!" Feodor held onto his stomach, still crying, "I'm
burning, I'm burning!" The scene was frightfully tragic and funny at the
same time. To add to the burlesque, the general's watch in his pocket
struck eight o'clock. Feodor Feodorovitch stood up in a final supreme
effort. "Oh, it is horrible!" Matrena Petrovna showed a red, almost
violet face as she came back; she distorted it, she c