When he reached the shop the lights were burning brightly in the show window and within.

Through the glass door he could see that Fischelowitz was comfortably installed in a chair behind the counter, contentedly smoking one of his own best cigarettes, and smiling happily to himself through the fragrant cloud.

If the tobacconist's wife had been present, the Count would have gone away without entering, for he did not like her, and had reason to suspect that she hated him, which was indeed the case.

But Akulina was nowhere to be seen, the shop looked bright and cheerful, the Count was tired, he pushed the door and entered.

Fischelowitz turned his head without modifying his smile, and seeing who his visitor was nodded familiarly.