“Just before the whistle sounded, two ladies with a lapdog seated themselves just opposite me. They were late. One of them was dressed in gorgeous style in light blue; the other more soberly in black silk with a cape. They were nice-looking, had a disdainful air, and talked in English. I took no notice, of course, and went on smoking. I did hesitate, but I went on smoking close to the window, for the window was open. The lapdog was lying on the pale blue lady’s knee. It was a tiny creature no bigger than my fist, black with white paws, quite a curiosity. It had a silver collar with a motto on it. I did nothing. But I noticed the ladies seemed annoyed, at my cigar, no doubt. One of them stared at me through her tortoise-shell lorgnette. I did nothing again, for they said nothing. If they’d said anything, warned me, asked me–there is such a thing as language after all! But they were silent. … Suddenly, without the slightest preface–I assure you without the slightest, as though she had suddenly taken leave of her sense–the pale blue one snatched the cigar out of my hand and flung it out of the window. The train was racing alone. I gazed at her aghast. A savage woman, yes, positively a woman of quite a savage type; yet a plump, comfortable-looking, tall, fair woman, with rosy cheeks (too rosy, in fact). Her eyes glared at me. Without uttering a word and with extraordinary courtesy, the most perfect, the most refined courtesy, I delicately picked up the lapdog by the collar in two fingers and flung it out of the window after the cigar! It uttered one squeal. The train was still racing on.”

“You are a monster!” exclaimed Nastasya Filippovna, laughing and clapping her hands like a child.

“Bravo, bravo!” cried Ferdyshtchenko.

Pititsyn too smiled, though he had also been extremely put out by the general’s entrance. Even Kolya laughed and cried “Bravo!” too.

“And I was right, perfectly right,” the triumphant general continued warmly.” For if cigars are forbidden in a railway carriage, dogs are even more so.”

Ruminations
I still don’t quite know how it happened. I know only that it did happen. At least, I’m sure it happened. Others are markedly less so, but I’ll let you be the judge of who is right. I resolve to simply tell it like it is, without any embellishments or omissions.

You see, it all started one day when I went over to a friend’s house. She was having some furniture delivered but had to make it to the store to buy something before they closed. She asked me to come over in case they came while she was gone, and I happily obliged.

I sat around listening to music for a while when I heard the distinct sound of a diesel engine outside. Ah, the delivery guys, she’ll be excited! Little did I know at the time that something as innocuous as a sofa could truly lead to so much excitement, nor so much terror.

The brought in the sofa, I signed for it, and waited on my friend to get back. The sofa was made of a smooth, soft leather, with a rich smell. The color was a deep, but not inky, black. It had character, but sophistication. The size was perfect for lounging. Three people could sit comfortably on its plush cushions, or as would more often be the case, one could lie comfortably with one’s head on the arm rest and feet not quite touching the other arm rest. And so I did. It was a cool night in January, and the sofa had been in the truck for hours, I’m certain. I figured this way I would warm it up by the time she got back. Only, she didn’t come back, or she did but I wasn’t there, only I was there. If you think you’re confused, be glad you aren’t me.