- they didn't tell Larisa or their brother. Ludmila made the Geisha costume herself from the design on the label of one of her perfume bottles. It was a long, wide dress of yellow silk on red satin, with a bright pattern large flowers of a whimsical design sewn nicely and the girls also made the fan themselves from thin Japanese puper with designs and thin bamboo sticks. They also made an umbrella of fine, rose-colored silk, and it even had a bamboo shaft or handle. They got rose-colored stockings for his feet and wooden sandals under them. And Ludmila, the master of it all, painted the mask for the Geisha. It was a yellow, but sweet, thin face, with a slight, fixed smile, obliquely cut eyes and a small thin mouth. It was only the wig that they had to order from St. Petersburg

it was black with smooth, already arranged hair." (Pggs 316-317)

On the appointed night Sasha secretly slips out of his room and goes to the Rutilov house to be costumed. He is suitable attired and wigged by Ludmila and two of her sisters. Together they set out for the community hall. Upon entering, each guest is given two tickets: one in pink representing the best woman's costume and one in green repre- senting the best man's costume. During the evening it is under- stood that the tickets will be handed over to the person thought by the ticket-holder to have the best costumes respectively.

"The three sisters and Sasha came late in two cabs they were late because of him. Their entrance into the hull was noticed. The Geisha expecially pleased many people. A mor spread that the Geisha was Kash- tanova,

an actress very popular with the male portion of local so- ciety. Therefore, they gave Sasha many tickets. Kastanova was not at the masquerade at all her smull son had fallen dangerously ill the day before. Sasha, intoxicated by his new position, flirted wildly. The more

...

they thrust their tickets into the lit- tle Geisha's hands, the more gaily and provocatively sparkled the eyes of the coquettish Japanese girl. She curtsied, lifted her small fingers, tittered in an intimate tone, waved her fan, tapped now one man and now another on the shoulder with it, and frequently opened her parasol. THese guileless acts were sufficient for the majority of those who admired the actress Kastanova. ( P. 324)

When the tickets are counted and the results are announced, it is discovered that an actor named Bengalsky had won the prize for the best man's costume. The townspeople are angered by this turn in events and believe the contest to have been fixed. The crowd grows unruly. There are drunks among the assembly. It is announced that the geisha has won the prize for the best wo- men's costume. Sasha comes for- ward and nervously accepts the prize. He is asked to remove his mask and reveal his true iden- tity. Ludmila and her sisters are not prepared for this turn of events and neither is Sasha. He attempts to leave the hall and is stopped. The crowd begins to tear at his costume. The fan is smashed to the floor. A riot ensues. Just when all seems lost, the actor Bengalsky comes to the Geisha's rescue. Somehow he is able to carry Sasha through the angry crowd and outside to safety. Bengalsky is curious him- self concerning the geisha's iden- tity. Fortunately, he is amused when he discovers that the geisha is really a boy Sasha. Sasha's secret is safe with Bengalsky and he finds his way home, scratched and scraped, and much wiser. Peredenov has witnessed the masquerade and his paranoia is at its zenith. To him, the mysterious little geisha is a devil sent to torture him. Shortly after the masquerade, Peredenov goes

completely mad and murders one of his neighbors. This is the in- tended climax of the novel but it is anti-climatic considering the build-up to the masquerade party and the paragraphs devoted to Ludmila and Sasha. One wonders if Sologub was not in fact, a cross- dresser, a secret sister, writing for his own fulfillment about a sub- ject that was certainly taboo in the late nineteenth century Russia.

CAUGHT.

...

the others, filed my bra, creamed all my makeup off (while the knocking continued, politely) showered off every last vintage of the accepted pleasantries interspersed with calls through the door that I'd be just a minute more. At very long last, in a robe, I opened the door, quite respectable, according to con- temporary frames of reference. It was my comedienne friend!!

My glare was what is known as baleful at her.

She gestured wildly at me, wanted a miming that she pencil and paper. What she wrote was this:

"You're cuter the OTHER way. Gone dull on me? I just dropped by to get your help on some pantomine. I got lar- yningitis last night, but I have got to go on tonight at One Fifth Avenue whether I've got a voice or not. HELP me."

Maybe I was vindictive (and we did work out a sub- stitute routine for her) but I took my blessed, ever-loving time, like T-I-M-E, putting my makeup back on, my lingerie, my sweater. my everything, too numerous, quite too numer- ous to classify, list and cate- gorize again.

Blame me, hmmm?