Fremden-Loge,' she turned to the waiter. 'Do you hear: the Fremden-Loge it must be!'
'But if the Fremden-Loge has been already taken by his excellency, the director of the town (seine Excellenz der Herr Stadt-Director),' the waiter ventured to demur.
'Give his excellency ten thalers, and let the box be mine! Do you hear!'
The waiter bent his head humbly and mournfully.
'Dimitri Pavlovitch, you will go with me to the theatre? the German actors are awful, but you will go . . . Yes? Yes? How obliging you are! Dumpling, are you not coming?
'You settle it,' Polozov observed into the cup he had lifted to his lips.
'Do you know what, you stay at home. You always go to sleep at the theatre, and you don't understand much German. I 'll tell you what you 'd better do, write an answer to the overseer—you remember, about our mill . . . about the peasants' grinding. Tell him that I won't have it, and I won't and that's all about it! There's occupation for you for the whole evening.'
'All right,' answered Polozov.
'Well then, that's first-rate. You're a darling. And now, gentlemen, as we have
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