me. At the same time I felt that the affair would not come
off. . . .

"We went into the house. The rooms were smallish and had low ceilings,
and the furniture was typical of the summer villa (Russians like
having at their summer villas uncomfortable heavy, dingy furniture
which they are sorry to throw away and have nowhere to put), but
from certain details I could observe that Kisotchka and her husband
were not badly off, and must be spending five or six thousand roubles
a year. I remember that in the middle of the room which Kisotchka
called the dining-room there was a round table, supported for some
reason on six legs, and on it a samovar and cups. At the edge of
the table lay an open book, a pencil, and an exercise book. I glanced
at the book and recognised it as 'Malinin and Burenin's Arithmetical
Examples.' It was open, as I now remember, at the 'Rules of Compound
Interest.'

"'To whom are you giving lessons?' I asked Kisotchka.'

"'Nobody,' she answered. 'I am just doing some. . . . I have nothing
to do, and am so bored that I think of the old days and do sums.'

"'Have you any children?'

"'I had a baby boy, but he only lived a week.'

"We began drinking tea. Admiring me, Kisotchka said again how good
it was that I was an engineer, and how glad she was of my success.
And the more she talked and the more genuinely she smiled, the
stronger was my conviction that I should go away without having
gained my object. I was a connoisseur in love affairs in those days,
and could accurately gauge my chances of success. You can boldly
reckon on success if you are tracking down a fool or a woman as
much on the look out for new experiences and sensations as yourself,
or an adventuress to whom you are a stranger. If you come across a
sensible and serious woman, whose face has an expression of weary
submission and goodwill, who is genuinely delighted at your presence,
and, above all, respects you, you may as well turn back. To succeed
in that case needs longer than one day.

"And by evening light Kisotchka seemed even more charming than by
day. She attracted me more and more, and apparently she liked me
too, and the surroundings were most appropriate: the husband not
at home, no servants visible, stillness around. . . . Though I had
little confidence in success, I made up my mind to begin the attack
anyway. First of all it was necessary to get into a familiar tone
and to change Kisotchka's lyrically earnest mood into a