it could be tied into a knot, or bent double,
like a cord. The imprint of her foot is long and narrow. It is, a
maddening imprint--yes, simply a maddening one! And her hair has a
reddish tint about it, and her eyes are like cat's eyes--though able
also to glance with proud, disdainful mien. On the evening of my first
arrival, four months ago, I remember that she was sitting and holding
an animated conversation with De Griers in the salon. And the way in
which she looked at him was such that later, when I retired to my own
room upstairs, I kept fancying that she had smitten him in the
face--that she had smitten him right on the cheek, so peculiar had been
her look as she stood confronting him. Ever since that evening I have
loved her.

But to my tale.

I stepped from the path into the carriage-way, and took my stand in the
middle of it. There I awaited the Baron and the Baroness. When they
were but a few paces distant from me I took off my hat, and bowed.

I remember that the Baroness was clad in a voluminous silk dress, pale
grey in colour, and adorned with flounces and a crinoline and train.
Also, she was short and inordinately stout, while her gross, flabby
chin completely concealed her neck. Her face was purple, and the little
eyes in it had an impudent, malicious expression. Yet she walked as
though she were conferring a favour upon everybody by so doing. As for
the Baron, he was tall, wizened, bony-faced after the German fashion,
spectacled, and, apparently, about forty-five years of age. Also, he
had legs which seemed to begin almost at his chest--or, rather, at his
chin! Yet, for all his air of peacock-like conceit, his clothes sagged
a little, and his face wore a sheepish air which might have passed for
profundity.

These details I noted within a space of a few seconds.

At first my bow and the fact that I had my hat in my hand barely caught
their attention. The Baron only scowled a little, and the Baroness
swept straight on.

"Madame la Baronne," said I, loudly and distinctly--embroidering each
word, as it were--"j'ai l'honneur d'etre votre esclave."

Then I bowed again, put on my hat, and walked past the Baron with a
rude smile on my face.

Polina had ordered me merely to take off my hat: the bow and the
general effrontery were of my own invention. God knows what instigated
me to perpetrate the outrage! In my frenzy I felt as though I were
walking on air.

"Hein!" ejaculated--or, rather, growled--t