which formed a strange, but pleasing, contrast to the
small mouth. Her lips were closed, while her eyes looked so grave that
the general expression of her face gave one the impression that a smile
was never to be looked for from her: wherefore, when a smile did come,
it was all the more pleasing.

Trying to escape notice, I slipped through the door of the salon,
and then thought it necessary to be seen pacing to and fro, seemingly
engaged in thought, as though unconscious of the arrival of guests.

BY the time, however, that the ladies had advanced to the middle of
the salon I seemed suddenly to awake from my reverie and told them that
Grandmamma was in the drawing room, Madame Valakhin, whose face pleased
me extremely (especially since it bore a great resemblance to her
daughter's), stroked my head kindly.

Grandmamma seemed delighted to see Sonetchka, She invited her to come
to her, put back a curl which had fallen over her brow, and looking
earnestly at her said, "What a charming child!"

Sonetchka blushed, smiled, and, indeed, looked so charming that I myself
blushed as I looked at her.

"I hope you are going to enjoy yourself here, my love," said
Grandmamma. "Pray be as merry and dance as much as ever you can. See, we
have two beaux for her already," she added, turning to Madame Valakhin,
and stretching out her hand to me.

This coupling of Sonetchka and myself pleased me so much that I blushed
again.

Feeling, presently, that, my embarrassment was increasing, and hearing
the sound of carriages approaching, I thought it wise to retire. In the
hall I encountered the Princess Kornakoff, her son, and an incredible
number of daughters. They had all of them the same face as their mother,
and were very ugly. None of them arrested my attention. They talked in
shrill tones as they took off their cloaks and boas, and laughed as they
bustled about--probably at the fact that there were so many of them!

Etienne was a boy of fifteen, tall and plump, with a sharp face,
deep-set bluish eyes, and very large hands and feet for his age.
Likewise he was awkward, and had a nervous, unpleasing voice.
Nevertheless he seemed very pleased with himself, and was, in my
opinion, a boy who could well bear being beaten with rods.

For a long time we confronted one another without speaking as we took
stock of each other. When the flood of dresses had swept past I made
shift to begin a conversation by asking him whether it had not be