Valentina Mihailovna laughed louder still.

"You had better take care, Boris Andraevitch is sometimes such a
Jacobin--"

"Jacko, jacko, jacko," the parrot screamed. Valentina Mihailovna
waved her handkerchief at him. "Don't interrupt an intelligent
conversation! Mariana, do teach him manners!"

Mariana turned to the cage and began stroking the parrot's neck
with her finger; the parrot stretched towards her.

"Yes," Valentina Mihailovna continued, "Boris Andraevitch
astonishes me, too, sometimes. There is a certain strain in him .
. . a certain strain . . . of the tribune."

"C'est parce qu'il est orateur!" Kollomietzev exclaimed
enthusiastically in French. "Your husband is a marvellous orator
and is accustomed to success . . . ses propres paroles le grisent
. . . and then his desire for popularity. By the way, he is
rather annoyed just now, is he not? Il boude? Eh?"

Valentina Mihailovna looked at Mariana.

"I haven't noticed it," she said after a pause. "Yes,"
Kollomietzev continued pensively, "he was rather overlooked at
Easter."

Valentina Mihailovna indicated Mariana with her eyes.
Kollomietzev smiled and screwed up his eyes, conveying to her