One morning in 1930, his eighth year of house arrest, the Count wakes up and makes himself some coffee with a new “Apparatus” (171). After enjoying his breakfast of coffee, buttered biscuit, and apple, he throws the crumbs out the window for the bird that frequently visits. He is preparing to leave a dish of cream outside his door for the cat when he sees a hotel envelope bearing the words, “Four o’clock?” He opens the envelope, uttering, “Mon Dieu” (172).

Just as the shards in a kaleidoscope change with the wrist’s movement, so Moscow and the Metropol take on “a new configuration” (174). It is the last day of spring, and the Count is now headwaiter at the Boyarsky. He, Andrey, and Emile—“that Triumvirate which met each day at 2:15” (176), to discuss the upcoming evening—look over the list of reservations, and the Count offers suggestions on who should be seated where and which wines to offer with the specials. (Labeled wine is once again allowed.) The Count shows them the contents of the envelope: an ounce and a half of saffron. Andrey and Emile are stunned; Andrey says he believes he can obtain three oranges they will need.