Having finished the paper, his second cup of coffee, and a buttered roll, he got up, flicked some crumbs off his waistcoat, and, expanding his broad chest, smiled joyfully, not because there was anything specially pleasant in his mind – no, the smile was but the result of a healthy digestion.
Terminado el periódico, la segunda taza de café y el kalach3 con mantequilla, Esteban Arkadievich se levantó, se limpió las migas que le cayeran en el chaleco y, sacando mucho el pecho, sonrió jovialmente, no como reflejo de su estado de espíritu, sino con el optimismo de una buena digestión.