THE CHORUS GIRL

ONE day when she was younger and better-looking, and when her voice
was stronger, Nikolay Petrovitch Kolpakov, her adorer, was sitting
in the outer room in her summer villa. It was intolerably hot and
stifling. Kolpakov, who had just dined and drunk a whole bottle of
inferior port, felt ill-humoured and out of sorts. Both were bored
and waiting for the heat of the day to be over in order to go for
a walk.

All at once there was a sudden ring at the door. Kolpakov, who was
sitting with his coat off, in his slippers, jumped up and looked
inquiringly at Pasha.

"It must be the postman or one of the girls," said the singer.

Kolpakov did not mind being found by the postman or Pasha's lady
friends, but by way of precaution gathered up his clothes and went
into the next room, while Pasha ran to open the door. To her great
surprise in the doorway stood, not the postman and not a girl friend,
but an unknown woman, young and beautiful, who was dressed like a
lady, and from all outward signs was one.

The stranger was pale and was breathing heavily as though she had
been running up a steep flight of stairs.