A Noble Marriage - Chapter 67

Chapter 67 – Little Guy (1)

It was Anna’s first experience of bad weather since she’d come to Petersburg. By that she meant that just as she was about to go out, the oppressive sky opened, and it started raining cats and dogs.

“Do you want to go out in this?” Karenin asked.

Anna looked at Karenin, her slender, bony, yet surprisingly muscular hand gripped the door handle. He was looking at her as he asked his question, but he already seemed to know what her answer would be.

“I will take an umbrella with me,” Anna said.

“For safety reasons, I hope you can take Annushka.”

Karenin ate a mouthful of bacon, his eyelashes hooding his eyes. Usually, if he was talking about something serious or wanted to get a response from the other party, he would always look the other person in the eye, so Anna knew he was just talking casually.

“You know a poor boy can’t afford to hire a companion.And two poor boys are obviously not suitable to compete for work in the tailor shop.”

“If you insist,” Karenin said. He’d already said this several times as though he was trying to convince himself.

After Karenin had gone to work, Anna dressed herself as a poor boy commonly found in Petersburg and went to Mr. Goldman’s tailor shop. It was the same as it had been last time; the tall, talented tailor wasn’t in the shop, but his assistant was. The strong man was overseeing the shop in his absence.

“Who are you looking for?” the black-haired man asked. He fixed Anna with a gaze that suggested he held no respect for her.

But Anna noted that he didn’t show her any disdain. In Petersburg, the different classes were to be found everywhere. “I’m looking for Mr. Goldman,” she said.

“What do you want with him?” the man asked curiously.

“I want to be an apprentice here,” Anna said softly, keeping her voice down but making her eyes look naïve and eager.

The man smiled sarcastically, “Oh, if so, I suggest you leave.”

“Why? You don’t look like Mr. Goldman,” Anna stepped closer with her chin held high to show the little pride of young people.

“Indeed, I am not. But I know that Mr. Goldman will not accept apprentices.”

Anna couldn’t just give up, she knew deep down this gentleman was a kind-hearted person. She averted her eyes from his face, “Since you are not Mr. Goldman, I think it is best that he decides this matter for himself.”

“Why won’t you listen?” the big man mumbled and then waved her away. “Okay, suit yourself.”

Anna stood and waited in the doorway for a while. The rain wasn’t letting up at all and even though she had brought an umbrella, she had still gotten wet. The chill made her unconsciously rub her hands together. At the sound of a voice that was slightly nasal, she turned around.

“Come and have a cup of tea,” the dark-haired man said.

Anna couldn’t refuse, she wanted to stay in the tailor shop. She took the cup of tea that was offered to her and held it in hands. “My name is Pavel. And you are?”

“Just call me Prokhov,” the man said with a sniff.

“Have you got a cold?”

“No,” he grunted, “just some allergies,” he drained the teacup that looked comically small in his large hand.

Because of the heavy rain, there was not much other noise in the shop. Prokhov didn’t originally want to take care of this stubborn boy, but he hadn’t been able to bear just how miserable he looked because of the cold, so he’d made hot tea.

“Thank you,” Anna said, “this tea is nice and warm,” the tea had reached her stomach and warmed her from the inside.

“It’s not a big deal,” Prokhov shrugged. “Besides, I think vodka is better for warming up, but Mr. Goldman hates alcohol so I can only offer tea to drive off the cold,” Prokhov was by no means alcoholic, but he was Russian to the core. And vodka was the Russian favorite.

After a few cups of tea, just as if it had been alcohol, Anna noticed that Prokhov relaxed, or that he was just really bored.

“Why do you want to be an apprentice here?” he asked curiously.

“Perhaps for the same reason as you,” Anna replied with a blink.

Prokhov stared at her at first, then he grinned, “I don’t think we are here for the same reasons.”

“Oh?” Anna cocked her head to the side, “Are you sure?” now that he’d given her a glimpse of his thoughts, she wanted to know more.

Prokhov refused to be swayed. He cleaned his teacup and muttered, “It isn’t the same.”

Just after he’d spoken, a somewhat loud and gloomy voice sounded, “What’s so different?”

It was Mr. Goldman.

He’d just entered the shop. His black hair was wet and was standing up in wisps. His eyebrows had pulled together in a frown of disgust. He put the umbrella in the barrel behind them and bent forward so the rainwater wouldn’t drip everywhere. He stayed in that position for a little while and eventually, stood and turned around. His eyes first glanced over Anna, the uninvited guest, then moved casually over to his friend.