You are the only one who will have
seen it before the ball. I am not even letting my husband look at it."
"Oh, Mrs. Shaldin, you can rely upon me as upon a rock. But after the
ball may I copy it?"
"Oh, yes, after the ball copy it as much as you please, but not now,
not for anything in the world."
There were no doubts in Abramka's mind when he left the doctor's
house. He had arrived at his decision. That superb creation had
conquered him. It would be a piece of audacity on his part, he felt,
even to think of imitating such a gown. Why, it was not a gown. It was
a dream, a fantastic vision--without a bodice, without puffs or frills
or tawdry trimmings of any sort. Simplicity itself and yet so chic.
Back in his shop he opened the package of fashion-plates that had just
arrived from Kiev. He turned the pages and stared in astonishment.
What was that? Could he trust his eyes? An Empire gown. There it was,
with the broad voluptuous drapery of lace hanging from the shoulders
and the edging of down. Almost exactly the same thing as Mrs.
Shaldin's.
He glanced up and saw Semyonov outside the window. He had certainly
come to fetch him to the captain's wife, who must have ordered him to
watch the tailor's movements, and must have learned that he had just
been at Mrs.
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