A light footstep and the clinking of spurs were heard at the door, and the young count, handsome, rosy, with a dark little mustache, evidently rested and made sleeker by his easy life in Moscow, entered the room.

"Ah, my boy, my head's in a whirl!" said the old man with a smile, as if he felt a little confused before his son.

" Now, if you would only help a bit! I must have singers too.

I shall have my own orchestra, but shouldn't we get the gypsy singers as well? You military men like that sort of thing.