d a teacher, another, they
say, is a celebrated singer in Petersburg. . . . You are all splendid,
all of you. . . . Ah, how good that is!'

"Kisotchka's eyes shone with genuine goodwill and gladness. She was
admiring me like an elder sister or a former governess. 'While I
looked at her sweet face and thought, 'It wouldn't be bad to get
hold of her to-day!'

"'Do you remember, Natalya Stepanovna,' I asked her, 'how I once
brought you in the park a bouquet with a note in it? You read my
note, and such a look of bewilderment came into your face. . . .'

"'No, I don't remember that,' she said, laughing. 'But I remember
how you wanted to challenge Florens to a duel over me. . . .'

"'Well, would you believe it, I don't remember that. . . .'

"'Well, that's all over and done with . . .' sighed Kisotchka. 'At
one time I was your idol, and now it is my turn to look up to all
of you. . . .'

"From further conversation I learned that two years after leaving
the high school, Kisotchka had been married to a resident in the
town who was half Greek, half Russian, had a post either in the
bank or in the insurance society, and also carried on a trade in
corn. He had a strange surname, something in the style of Populaki
or Skarandopulo. . . . Goodness only knows--I have forgotten. . . .
As a matter of fact, Kisotchka spoke little and with reluctance
about herself. The conversation was only about me. She asked me
about the College of Engineering, about my comrades, about Petersburg,
about my plans, and everything I said moved her to eager delight
and exclamations of, 'Oh, how good that is!'

"We went down to the sea and walked over the sands; then when the
night air began to blow chill and damp from the sea we climbed up
again. All the while our talk was of me and of the past. We walked
about until the reflection of the sunset had died away from the
windows of the summer villas.

"'Come in and have some tea,' Kisotchka suggested. 'The samovar
must have been on the table long ago. . . . I am alone at home,'
she said, as her villa came into sight through the green of the
acacias. 'My husband is always in the town and only comes home at
night, and not always then, and I must own that I am so dull that
it's simply deadly.'

"I followed her in, admiring her back and shoulders. I was glad
that she was married. Married women are better material for temporary
love affairs than girls. I was also pleased that her husband was
not at ho