Her coat was glossy; one could see she had just been
combed down. They brought Gerasim the soup. He crumbled some bread into
it, cut the meat up small, and put the plate on the ground. Mumu began
eating in her usual refined way, her little muzzle daintily held so as
scarcely to touch her food. Gerasim gazed a long while at her; two big
tears suddenly rolled from his eyes; one fell on the dog's brow, the
other into the soup. He shaded his face with his hand. Mumu ate up half
the plateful, and came away from it, licking her lips. Gerasim got up,
paid for the soup, and went out, followed by the rather perplexed
glances of the waiter. Eroshka, seeing Gerasim, hid round a corner, and
letting him get in front, followed him again.
Gerasim walked without haste, still holding Mumu by a string. When he
got to the corner of the street, he stood still as though reflecting,
and suddenly set off with rapid steps to the Crimean Ford. On the way he
went into the yard of a house, where a lodge was being built, and
carried away two bricks under his arm. At the Crimean Ford, he turned
along the bank, went to a place where there were two little rowing-boats
fastened to stakes (he had noticed them there before), and jumped into
one of them with Mumu.
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