She was wearing a dark rather worn dress with an apron. How gladly would I have caressed every fold of that apron. The tips of her shoes looked out from under her skirt. I could have knelt in adoration to those shoes. ‘And here I am sitting opposite her,’ I was thinking, ‘I have met her; I know her. God, what happiness!’ I almost leapt from my chair in ecstasy, but in fact I only swung my legs a little, like a child enjoying a sweet. I was as happy as a fish in water. I could have stayed in that room – I could have remained in it for ever.

Her eyes softly opened, and once more her clear eyes shone sweetly upon me, and again she gave me a gentle little smile.

‘How you do stare at me,’ she said slowly, and shook her finger.

I blushed. ‘She understands everything; she sees everything,’ flashed through my brain, and how could she fail to see it all and understand it all? Suddenly there was a sound from the next room – the clank of a sabre.

‘Zina!’ cried the old princess from the drawing-room. ‘Byelovzorov has brought you a kitten.’

‘A kitten,’ cried Zinaida and, darting from her chair, threw the ball of wool into my lap, and ran out of the room. I, too, got up, left the skein of wool and the ball on the window-sill and stopped in amazement. In the middle of the room a small tabby cat was lying on its back, stretching out its paws. Zinaida was on her knees before it, cautiously lifting up its little face. By the side of the old princess, filling almost the entire space between the windows, stood a blond, curly-haired young officer, a magnificent figure with a pink face and protruding eyes.

‘What a funny little thing,’ Zinaida kept repeating, ‘and its eyes aren’t grey, they’re green, and what large ears. I do thank you, Victor Yegorych. It is very sweet of you.’

The soldier, whom I recognized as one of the young men I had seen the evening before, smiled and bowed with a clink of his spurs and a jingle of his sabre rings.

‘You were kind enough to say yesterday that you wanted a tabby kitten with large ears…and here, you see, I have procured one. Your word is law.’ And he bowed again.

The kitten uttered a feeble squeak and began to sniff the floor.

‘It’s hungry!’ exclaimed Zinaida. ‘Vonifaty, Sonia, bring some milk.’

The maid, in a shabby yellow dress, with a faded kerchief round her neck, came in with a saucer of milk in her hands, and set it before the kitten. The kitten started, screwed up its eyes, and began to lap.

‘What a pink little tongue,’ observed Zinaida, almost touching the floor with her head, and peering at the kitten sideways under its very nose. The kitten drank its fill and began to purr, delicately kneading with its paws. Zinaida rose, and turning to the maid said casually: ‘Take it away’.

‘In return for the kitten – your hand,’ said the soldier with a simper and a great shrug of his powerful body tightly encased in a new uniform.

‘Both of them,’ Zinaida replied, and held out her hands to him. While he kissed them, she looked at me over his shoulder. I stood stock still and did not know whether to laugh, to say something, or to remain silent. Suddenly I saw through the open door in the hall, the figure of our footman, Fyodor. He was making signs to me. Mechanically I went out to him.

‘What is the matter?’ I asked.

‘Your Mama has sent for you,’ he replied in a whisper. ‘Madam is annoyed because you haven’t come back with the answer.’

‘Why, have I been here long?’

‘Over an hour.’

‘ Over an hour!’ I repeated automatically, and returning to the drawing-room, I began to take my leave, bowing and clicking my heels.

‘Where are you off to?’ asked the young princess, glancing at me over the officer’s back.

‘I am afraid I must go home. So I am to say,’ I added, turning to the old princess, ‘that you will honour us at about two o’clock?’

‘Yes, my dear sir, please say just that,’ she said.

The old princess hastily reached for a snuff box and took the snuff so noisily that I almost jumped. ‘That’s right, say precisely that,’ she wheezily repeated, blinking tearfully.

I bowed again, turned and walked out of the room with that uncomfortable sensation in my back which a very young man feels when he knows he is being watched from behind.

‘Now, Monsieur Woldemar, mind you come and see us again,’ cried Zinaida, and laughed once more.

Why is she always laughing, I thought, as I returned home, accompanied by Fyodor who said nothing to me, but walked behind me with a disapproving air. My mother scolded me and expressed surprise.