At the sound, the sunny smile returned to the tobacconist's face.

He knew that no earthly eloquence, no scathing wit, no brutal reply could possibly exasperate his wife as this must.

He resented everything she had said, and in his vulgar way he was ashamed that she should have said it before the Count, and now he was glad that by the mere turning of a key he could answer her storm of words in a way to drive her to fury, while at the same time showing his own indifference.

As for the Count himself, he had moved nearer to the door and was looking quietly out into the irregularly lighted street, smoking as though he had not heard a word of what had been said.

As he stood, it was impossible for either of the others to see his face, and he betrayed no agitation by movement or gesture.
Akulina turned pale to the lips, as her husband had anticipated.