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 CHAPTER XXXVII

THE ENGINEER BRUNS

he engineer Bruns was sitting on the veranda of his country house. The leaves of a large palm-tree cast sharp and narrow shadows on to his closely shaved head, on to his white shirt, and on to the Gambs chair belonging to the suite that had formerly belonged to General Popov’s widow. He was sitting on the Gambs chair, waiting for dinner. ‘ Darling ! ’ he called in a baby voice. The house was silent. Tropical flora surrounded the engineer. There were prickly cactus leaves, banana and sago palms, and roses were growing over the veranda, but all this beauty was wasted on the engineer : he wanted his dinner. Feeling irritated, he called again to his wife, but there was no answer. He began to think of a large, wellroasted goose with a crackling fat skin, and unable to contain himself any longer he shouted : ‘ Darling ! Isn’t that goose ready yet ? ’ ‘ Andrey Mikhaylovich ! ’ a woman’s voice shouted back, ‘ don’t bother me ! ’ The engineer curled his lips and rapped back: ‘ Aren’t you sorry for me ? ’ ‘ Be quiet, you glutton ! ’ But the engineer did not want to be quiet, and he was just thinking of a suitable retort when an unexpected rustle at his side made him turn his head. A man in a ragged blue shirt and shabby trousers came from be­ hind a palm-tree. He was carrying a coat over his arm, ‘ Can you tell me where I can find the engineer Bruns ? ’ asked the stranger in a pleasant voice. ' I am the engineer Bruns. What can I do for you ? ’

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