The Lovers - стр. 25
Dina turned to Konstantin Konstantinovich. “You were so sure that I would come with you to the cafe?”
He smiled and said, trying to sound playful, “No, I wasn’t. I wasn’t even sure if you would come at all.”
“But you bought the tickets and reserved a table at the café… I suppose you could sell the tickets to someone else, but the cafe doesn’t refund the deposit.”
Still smiling, Konstantin Konstantinovich looked down. “If you had not come, nothing else would have upset me further.” He glanced up again. “To hell with the money that I would have lost.”
Dina noted again how changeable this man’s face was, and how such a simple movement of facial muscles could create so many different smiles.
She stared at her teacher in silence, as if trying to discern if he was telling the truth or just prattling.
It appeared that Konstantin Konstantinovich did not know the answer himself. His face showed a mixture of curiosity about his remarkable student, whom he had known for three years and yet, as it suddenly turned out, he did not know at all, and disconcertion before her disarming frankness, as well as tension caused by his desire to not lose this mask of a frivolous fop, and the fear that it was the mask that would repulse this girl, who refused to play games and talk insincerities.
They were shown to the only free table, which stood in the prime location with a Reserved sign, by the huge window that revealed the glowing lights of the city. The table was also a good place from where to see the stage with a five-person vocal-instrumental ensemble.
Dina sat down on the chair that Konstantin Konstantinovich had pulled out for her. He sat opposite, continuing to observe his companion with unconcealed interest.
An elegant, sharply dressed man approached the table.
Seeing him, Konstantin Konstantinovich stood up and extended his hand:
“Hello, Misha! Let me introduce you: Dina… Dina Alexandrovna. Mikhail Anatolievich.”
“Good evening. Pleased to meet you,” said Mikhail Anatolievich, then quietly asked Konstantin Konstantinovich, “Any special requests?”
“I’ll find you if anything,” he replied.
“Certainly. Enjoy your evening.” Mikhail Anatolievich nodded to Dina and walked away.
Konstantin Konstantinovich lit the candle in the clear red holder and looked at Dina in embarrassment. “I am currently feeling an overwhelming urge to tell the truth.” He beamed another one of his numerous expressive smiles and dropped his gaze. “I didn’t pay a deposit… my friend, my old classmate, works here as the manager.” He nodded in the direction of the departed Mikhail Anatolievich, and looked at Dina. “Misha, I mean… Thus, this table is always mine.”