'You always say things like that,' observed Eleonora Karpovna and she
turned away.

'And she's bestowed such Russian names on her squallers!' Mr. Ratsch
pursued. 'The next thing, she'll have them all baptized into the
Orthodox Church! Yes, by Jove! She's so Slavonic in her sympathies, 'pon
my soul, she is, though she is of German blood! Eleonora Karpovna, are
you Slavonic?'

Eleonora Karpovna lost her temper.

'I'm a petty councillor's wife, that's what I am! And so I'm a Russian
lady and all you may say....'

'There, the way she loves Russia, it's simply awful!' broke in Ivan
Demianitch. 'A perfect volcano, ho, ho!'

'Well, and what of it?' pursued Eleonora Karpovna. 'To be sure I love
Russia, for where else could I obtain noble rank? And my children too
are nobly born, you know. Kolia, sitze ruhig mit den Fussen!'

Ratsch waved his hand to her.

'There, there, princess, don't excite yourself! But where's the nobly
born Viktor? To be sure, he's always gadding about! He'll come across
the inspector one of these fine days! He'll give him a talking-to! Das
ist ein Bummler, Fiktor!'

'Dem Fiktov kann ich nicht kommandiren, Ivan Demianitch. Sie wissen
wohl!' grumbled Eleonora Karpovna.