y in love with an extraordinarily beautiful and fascinating
girl. She was the sister of our neighbour, Kotlovitch, a ruined
landowner who had on his estate pine-apples, marvellous peaches,
lightning conductors, a fountain in the courtyard, and at the same
time not a farthing in his pocket. He did nothing and knew how to
do nothing. He was as flabby as though he had been made of boiled
turnip; he used to doctor the peasants by homeopathy and was
interested in spiritualism. He was, however, a man of great delicacy
and mildness, and by no means a fool, but I have no fondness for
these gentlemen who converse with spirits and cure peasant women
by magnetism. In the first place, the ideas of people who are not
intellectually free are always in a muddle, and it's extremely
difficult to talk to them; and, secondly, they usually love no one,
and have nothing to do with women, and their mysticism has an
unpleasant effect on sensitive people. I did not care for his
appearance either. He was tall, stout, white-skinned, with a little
head, little shining eyes, and chubby white fingers. He did not
shake hands, but kneaded one's hands in his. And he was always
apologising. If he asked for anything it was "Excuse me"; if he
gave you anything it was "Excuse me" too.

As for his sister, she was a character out of a different opera. I
must explain that I had not been acquainted with the Kotlovitches
in my childhood and early youth, for my father had been a professor
at N., and we had for many years lived away. When I did make their
acquaintance the girl was twenty-two, had left school long before,
and had spent two or three years in Moscow with a wealthy aunt who
brought her out into society. When I was introduced and first had
to talk to her, what struck me most of all was her rare and beautiful
name--Ariadne. It suited her so wonderfully! She was a brunette,
very thin, very slender, supple, elegant, and extremely graceful,
with refined and exceedingly noble features. Her eyes were shining,
too, but her brother's shone with a cold sweetness, mawkish as
sugar-candy, while hers had the glow of youth, proud and beautiful.
She conquered me on the first day of our acquaintance, and indeed
it was inevitable. My first impression was so overwhelming that to
this day I cannot get rid of my illusions; I am still tempted to
imagine that nature had some grand, marvellous design when she
created that girl.

Ariadne's voice, her walk, her hat, even