was supposed to be there at 8 a.m. and it was only 6:30 a.m. Unsure of what to do, he went to the kitchen to see if there was someone from the service up to leave a message for Constantin.
“Good morning, sir,” a maid greeted him in good English, surprising him a bit.
“Good morning. Do you know if I could leave a note for Mr. Repin? I have to go to work, but I don't want to disturb him.”
“Mr. Repin is up since half an hour ago. His secretary, Mr. Zakharov is working with him in the library. He told me to inform him the minute you were up to have breakfast with you. I'll be right back, sir,” she said so fast that Guntram couldn't stop her before she rushed toward the library, through the large corridor. Sighing, he resigned to another delay in his schedule, but this time he would be firm as the man couldn't manipulate his life in the way he was doing it.
“Mr. Repin asks you to join him in the dinning room,” the maid informed him, curtly bowing her head and vanishing direction to the kitchen.
“Wait! Could you get me some aspirin please? My wrist is giving me some troubles.”
“Right away, sir.”
Feeling unhappy at this new turn of events, Guntram suppressed a frustrated sigh and went to the dinning room as ordered, still wondering why the man was up working so early, and how on earth could you get a secretary at such an ungodly hour. He stood in front of the closed door and softly knocked to hear Constantin's voice saying “come in”
“Good morning, Guntram. Sit down. Do you know Zakharov?”
“How do you do, sir?” The boy asked to the old Russian sitting at the table, who only bowed his head in response.
“Sit down now,” Constantin repeated this time more sharply than before, making Guntram feel as if he were again in the Headmaster's presence.
“I only wanted to thank you and say good-bye. I start at 8 a.m. today and I still have to pass by my house…”
“Have breakfast and then we will see,” Constantin only said, turning and resuming his previous conversation with the man in Russian. Undecided about the best course of action, Guntram sat where Constantin had told him to and immediately, a different maid served him a coffee and asked him if he wanted eggs for breakfast.
“No, just bread, thank you.”
“Here is your aspirin, sir,” the first maid returned with the pill and a glass of water.
“Do you have a headache again, Guntram?”
“No, I'm fine, thank you.”
“Then, why the aspirin? Do you have a heart condition?” Constantin joked.
“No, just some pain in the left wrist,” Guntram answered puzzled at the question but remembering that the man had studied Chemistry.
“The same that the doctor told you to keep immobilized for two weeks and you use for carrying the tray?”
Guntram blushed when he answered that it was the same but today he would not use it as the staff was larger during the week and he could stay behind the counter.
“Drying glasses and rotating it? Zakharov what would you think if I have a pure blood horse with a sprained ankle and I put it on a mill so he rests from the horse-tracks fatigues?”
“That you're a fool, sir.”
“Indeed. We have the same problem with this young man. He has just been offered a scholarship for painting, but he insists on working for less than $1,000 in a restaurant where he already sprained his left hand.”
“That's very daft in my opinion. He will stress the right hand more just to replace the other and why is he not wearing a rigid plastic splint?”
“I don't know. Perhaps the local doctors have found a new healing method that we're not aware of,”
Constantin pondered in a very sarcastic way. “Guntram, call your work and said that you're not going today. A doctor will see it in the afternoon.”
“I can't do that!”
“Are there not labour laws in this country? Labour injuries are a real problem if you're an employer,” the old man lectured the youth.
“Don't tell me about it, Zakharov,”
“Good morning, sir,” a maid greeted him in good English, surprising him a bit.
“Good morning. Do you know if I could leave a note for Mr. Repin? I have to go to work, but I don't want to disturb him.”
“Mr. Repin is up since half an hour ago. His secretary, Mr. Zakharov is working with him in the library. He told me to inform him the minute you were up to have breakfast with you. I'll be right back, sir,” she said so fast that Guntram couldn't stop her before she rushed toward the library, through the large corridor. Sighing, he resigned to another delay in his schedule, but this time he would be firm as the man couldn't manipulate his life in the way he was doing it.
“Mr. Repin asks you to join him in the dinning room,” the maid informed him, curtly bowing her head and vanishing direction to the kitchen.
“Wait! Could you get me some aspirin please? My wrist is giving me some troubles.”
“Right away, sir.”
Feeling unhappy at this new turn of events, Guntram suppressed a frustrated sigh and went to the dinning room as ordered, still wondering why the man was up working so early, and how on earth could you get a secretary at such an ungodly hour. He stood in front of the closed door and softly knocked to hear Constantin's voice saying “come in”
“Good morning, Guntram. Sit down. Do you know Zakharov?”
“How do you do, sir?” The boy asked to the old Russian sitting at the table, who only bowed his head in response.
“Sit down now,” Constantin repeated this time more sharply than before, making Guntram feel as if he were again in the Headmaster's presence.
“I only wanted to thank you and say good-bye. I start at 8 a.m. today and I still have to pass by my house…”
“Have breakfast and then we will see,” Constantin only said, turning and resuming his previous conversation with the man in Russian. Undecided about the best course of action, Guntram sat where Constantin had told him to and immediately, a different maid served him a coffee and asked him if he wanted eggs for breakfast.
“No, just bread, thank you.”
“Here is your aspirin, sir,” the first maid returned with the pill and a glass of water.
“Do you have a headache again, Guntram?”
“No, I'm fine, thank you.”
“Then, why the aspirin? Do you have a heart condition?” Constantin joked.
“No, just some pain in the left wrist,” Guntram answered puzzled at the question but remembering that the man had studied Chemistry.
“The same that the doctor told you to keep immobilized for two weeks and you use for carrying the tray?”
Guntram blushed when he answered that it was the same but today he would not use it as the staff was larger during the week and he could stay behind the counter.
“Drying glasses and rotating it? Zakharov what would you think if I have a pure blood horse with a sprained ankle and I put it on a mill so he rests from the horse-tracks fatigues?”
“That you're a fool, sir.”
“Indeed. We have the same problem with this young man. He has just been offered a scholarship for painting, but he insists on working for less than $1,000 in a restaurant where he already sprained his left hand.”
“That's very daft in my opinion. He will stress the right hand more just to replace the other and why is he not wearing a rigid plastic splint?”
“I don't know. Perhaps the local doctors have found a new healing method that we're not aware of,”
Constantin pondered in a very sarcastic way. “Guntram, call your work and said that you're not going today. A doctor will see it in the afternoon.”
“I can't do that!”
“Are there not labour laws in this country? Labour injuries are a real problem if you're an employer,” the old man lectured the youth.
“Don't tell me about it, Zakharov,”
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