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woman of forty-five," answered Werner. "She

has a splendid digestion, but her blood is out of
order -- there are red spots on her cheeks. She

has spent the latter half of her life in Moscow,
and has grown stout from leading an inactive life

there. She loves spicy stories, and sometimes
says improper things herself when her daughter is

out of the room. She has declared to me that her
daughter is as innocent as a dove. What does

that matter to me? . . . I was going to answer
that she might be at her ease, because I would

never tell anyone. Princess Ligovski is taking the
cure for her rheumatism, and the daughter, for

goodness knows what. I have ordered each of
them to drink two tumblers a day of sulphurous

water, and to bathe twice a week in the diluted
bath. Princess Ligovski is apparently unac-

customed to giving orders. She cherishes respect
for the intelligence and attainments of her

daughter, who has read Byron in English and
knows algebra: in Moscow, evidently, the ladies

have entered upon the paths of erudition -- and
a good thing, too! The men here are generally so

unamiable, that, for a clever woman, it must be
intolerable to flirt with them. Princess Ligovski

is very fond of young people; Princess Mary looks
on them with a certain contempt -- a Moscow

habit! In Moscow they cherish only wits of
not less than forty."

"You have been in Moscow, doctor?"
"Yes, I had a practice there."

"Continue."
"But I think I have told everything. . .

No, there is something else: Princess Mary, it
seems, loves to discuss emotions, passions, etcetera.

She was in Petersburg for one winter, and disliked
it -- especially the society: no doubt she was

coldly received."
"You have not seen anyone with them to-

day?"
"On the contrary, there was an aide-de-camp,

a stiff guardsman, and a lady -- one of the latest
arrivals, a relation of Princess Ligovski on the

husband's side -- very pretty, but apparently
very ill. . . Have you not met her at the well?

She is of mediumheight, fair, with regular
features; she has the complexion of a con-

sumptive, and there is a little black mole on her
right cheek. I was struck by the expressiveness

of her face."
"A mole!" I muttered through my teeth.

"Is it possible?"
The doctor looked at me, and, laying his hand

on my heart, said triumphantly:
"You know her!"

My heart was, in fact, beating more violently
than usual.

"It is your turn, now, to triumph," I said.
"But I rely on you: you will not betray me.

I have not seen her yet, but I am convinced that
I recognise from your portrait a woman whom I

loved in the old days. . . Do not speak a word
to her about me; if she asks any questions, give

a bad report of me."
"Be it so!" said Werner, shrugging his

shoulders.
When he had departed, my heart was com-

pressed with terrible grief. Has destiny brought
us together again in the Caucasus, or has she come

hither on purpose, knowing that she would meet
me? . . . And how shall we meet? . . . And

then, is it she? . . . My presentiments have
never deceived me. There is not a man in the

world over whom the past has acquired such a
power as over me. Every recollection of bygone

grief or joy strikes my soul with morbid effect,
and draws forth ever the same sounds. . . I

am stupidly constituted: I forget nothing -- no-
thing!

After dinner, about six o'clock, I went on to the
boulevard. It was crowded. The two princesses

were sitting on a bench, surrounded by young
men, who were vying with each other in paying

them attention. I took up my position on another
bench at a little distance off, stopped two Dragoon

officers whom I knew, and proceeded to tell them
something. Evidently it was amusing, because

they began to laugh loudly like a couple of mad-
men. Some of those who were surrounding

Princess Mary were attracted to my side by
curiosity, and gradually all of them left her and

joined my circle. I did not stop talking; my
anecdotes were clever to the point of absurdity,

my jests at the expense of the queer people
passing by, malicious to the point of frenzy. I

continued to entertain the public till sunset.
Princess Mary passed by me a few times, arm-in-

arm with her mother, and accompanied by a
certain lame old man. A few times her glance

as it fell upon me expressed vexation, while en-
deavouring to express indifference. . .

"What has he been telling you?" she in-
quired of one of the young men, who had gone

back to her out of politeness. "No doubt
a most interesting story -- his own exploits in

battle?" . . .
This was said rather loudly, and probably with

the intention of stinging me.
"Aha!" I thought to myself. "You are

downright angry, my dear Princess. Wait awhile,
there is more to follow."

Grushnitski kept following her like a beast of
prey, and would not let her out of his sight. I

wager that to-morrow he will ask somebody to
present him to Princess Ligovski. She will be

glad, because she is bored.
CHAPTER III

16th May.
IN the course of two days my affairs have

gained ground tremendously. Princess Mary
positively hates me. Already I have had repeated

to me two or three epigrams on the subject of
myself -- rather caustic, but at the same time

very flattering. She finds it exceedingly strange
that I, who am accustomed to good society, and

am so intimate with her Petersburg cousins and
aunts, do not try to make her acquaintance.

Every day we meet at the well and on the boule-
vard. I exert all my powers to entice away her

adorers, glittering aides-de-camp, pale-faced
visitors from Moscow, and others -- and I almost

always succeed. I have always hated entertaining
guests: now my house is full every day; they

dine, sup, gamble, and alas! my champagne
triumphs over the might of Princess Mary's

magnetic eyes!
I met her yesterday in Chelakhov's shop. She

was bargaining for a marvellous Persian rug, and
implored her mother not to be niggardly: the

rug would be such an ornament to her boudoir. . .
I outbid her by forty rubles, and bought it over

her head. I was rewarded with a glance in which
the most delightful fury sparkled. About dinner-

time, I ordered my Circassian horse, covered with
that very rug, purposely to be led past her

windows. Werner was with the princesses at the
time, and told me that the effect of the scene

was most dramatic. Princess Mary wishes to
preach a crusade against me, and I have even

noticed that, already, two of the aides-de-camp
salute me very coldly, when they are in her pre-

sence -- they dine with me every day, however.
Grushnitski has assumed an air of mystery; he

walks with his arms folded behind his back and
does not recognise anyone. His foot has got well

all at once, and there is hardly a sign of a limp.
He has found an opportunity of entering into

conversation with Princess Ligovski and of
paying Princess Mary some kind of a compliment.

The latter is evidently not very fastidious, for,
ever since, she answers his bow with a most

charming smile.
"Are you sure you do not wish to make the

Ligovskis' acquaintance?" he said to me yester-
day.

"Positive."
"Good gracious! The pleasantest house at the

waters! All the best society of Pyatigorsk is to
be found there" . . .

"My friend, I am terribly tired of even other
society than that of Pyatigorsk. So you visit the

Ligovskis?"
"Not yet. I have spoken to Princess Mary

once or twice, but that is all. You know it is
rather awkward to go and visit them without

being invited, although that is the custom here. . .
It would be a different matter if I was wearing

epaulettes" . . .
"Good heavens! Why, you are much more

interesting as it is! You simply do not know how
to avail yourself of your advantageous position. . .

Why, that soldier's cloak makes a hero and a
martyr of you in the eyes of any lady of senti-

ment!"
Grushnitski smiled complacently.

"What nonsense!" he said.
"I am convinced," I continued, "that Princess

Mary is in love with you already."
He blushed up to the ears and looked big.

Oh, vanity! Thou art the lever with which
Archimedes was to lift the earthly sphere! . . .

"You are always jesting!" he said, pretending
to be angry. "In the first place, she knows so

little of me as yet" . . .
"Women love only those whom they do not

know!"
"But I have no pretensions whatsoever to

pleasing her. I simply wish to make the ac-
quaintance of an agreeable household; and it

would be extremelyridiculous if I were to cherish
the slightest hope. . . With you, now, for instance,



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