It is probable that the most tragic event conceivable in her existence could not have affected her more powerfully than the twang of the musical box and the twisting and turning of the insolent little wooden head.

She came round to the front of the counter with gleaming eyes and clenched fists.
"Stop that thing!" she cried, "Stop it, or it will drive me mad." Fischelowitz still smiled, and the doll continued to turn round and round to the tune, while the Count looked out through the open door.

Suddenly there was a quick shadow on the brightly lighted floor of the shop, followed instantly by a crash, and then with a miserable attempt to finish its tune the little instrument gave a resounding groan and was silent.
Akulina had struck the Gigerl such a blow as had sent it flying, pedestal and all, past her husband's head into a dark corner behind the counter.
Fischelowitz reddened with anger, and Akulina stood ready to take to flight, glad that the broad counter was between herself and her husband.
Her fury had spent itself in one blow and she would have given anything to set the doll up in its place again unharmed.

She realised at the same instant that she had probably destroyed any intrinsic value which the thing had possessed, and her face fell wofully.

The Count turned slowly where he stood and looked at the couple.
"Are you going to fight each other ?" he inquired in unusually bland tones.
At the sound of his voice the Russian woman's anger rose again, glad to find some new object upon which to expend itself and on which to exercise vengeance for the catastrophe its last expression had brought about.