It was about two o’clock in the afternoon. Nadezhda Larionovna—a plump, twenty-five-year-old blonde who performed couplets at the small cabaret theatre “Увеселительный зал” (the Amusement Hall)—had just woken up. Settling into her bedroom on the sofa, tucked in with her legs drawn up, she was drinking her morning coffee when Kostya Berezhkov burst in, rushing in at full speed—rosy-cheeked, clean-shaven, the merchant’s son.
“Well, I knew it would be you!” the blonde said, dissatisfied. She pouted and scooted away. “I don’t understand why you keep coming to see me!”