He was very handsome, with dark hair, expressive brown eyes, a small, narrow white nose and a thin little moustache over a tiny mouth, and was fashionably dressed. ‘This gentleman did not take part in our game of forfeits.’

‘It’s not fair,’ echoed Byelovzorov and the figure referred to as the retired captain, a man about forty, hideously pockmarked, with curly hair like a negro’s, slightly bowed bandy legs, and wearing a military tunic, unbuttoned and without epaulettes.

‘Write out the ticket, I tell you,’ repeated the princess. ‘What is this? A mutiny? M’sieu Woldemar is here for the first time, and today the rule does not apply to him. No grumbling; write out the ticket – that is my wish.’

The count shrugged his shoulders, but bowing his head obediently, took a pen in his white, beringed fingers, reached for a piece of paper and began to write.

‘At least may I be allowed to explain to M’sieu Woldemar what this is all about?’ Looshin began in a sarcastic voice. ‘Otherwise he’ll be quite lost. You see, young man, we are playing a game of forfeits. The princess has had to pay a forfeit and the winner, whoever draws the lucky ticket, will have the right to kiss her hand. Do you understand what I have just said?’

I only looked at him, and continued to stand there in a haze while the princess again leapt on to the chair, and once more began to shake the hat. Everyone moved towards her, I with the others.

‘Maidanov,’ said the princess to a tall young man with a thin face, small, short-sighted eyes and extremely long black hair, ‘you, as a poet, should be magnanimous and yield your ticket to M’sieu Woldemar so that he may have two chances instead of one.’ But Maidanov shook his head, tossing back his hair.

I was the last to put my hand into the hat, and, taking the ticket, opened it. Heavens! What did I feel when I saw upon it the word, ‘Kiss’!

‘Kiss!’ I could not help crying out.

‘Bravo, he wins,’ the princess exclaimed. ‘I am so pleased.’

She stepped down from the chair and looked into my eyes with a look so sweet and clear that my heart missed a beat. ‘And are you pleased?’ she asked me.

‘I?’ I stammered.

‘Sell me your ticket,’ blurted Byelovzorov suddenly into my ear. ‘I will give you a hundred roubles.’

I gave the soldier a look so indignant that Zinaida clapped her hands and Looshin exclaimed, ‘Oh, well done! But,’ he added, ‘I, as master of ceremonies, am obliged to see to it that all the rules are kept. Monsieur Woldemar, go down on one knee. That is the rule.’

Zinaida stood before me, with her head a little on one side, as if to see me better, and solemnly held out her hand to me. Everything became blurred. I meant to go down on one knee, but fell on both, and touched Zinaida’s fingers so awkwardly with my lips that I scratched the tip of my nose on her nail.

‘Splendid!’ shouted Looshin, and helped me to get up.

The game continued. Zinaida put me next to herself, and what forfeits she thought of! She had, among other things, to represent a statue, and she chose the hideous Nirmatsky as her pedestal, told him to bend down and then to bury his face in his chest. The laughter never stopped for an instant. For me, brought up as I had been, a solitary boy in the sober atmosphere of a staid country house, all this noise and excitement, this uncontrolled gaiety, the queer new terms on which I found myself with these strangers, all went straight to my head: I felt intoxicated – it was like a strong wine.

I began to laugh and chatter more loudly than the others, so that even the old princess, who was sitting in the next room with some official from the Legal Department, who had been called in for consultation, actually came out to have a look at me. But I felt so immensely happy that I didn’t care a rap. I really didn’t care what mockery, or what cross looks were directed at me. Zinaida continued to favour me, and would not let me leave her side. For one forfeit I had to sit beside her, both of us under the same silk scarf; I was supposed to tell her ‘my secret’. I remember how both our heads were suddenly plunged in a close, fragrant, almost transparent darkness, and how close to me in this darkness her eyes shone softly; and I remember the warm breath from her parted lips, the gleam of her teeth, and how her hair tickled and burnt me. I was silent. She smiled mysteriously and slyly, and finally whispered to me, ‘Well?’ But I only blushed and laughed and turned away, and could scarcely breathe.

We became bored with forfeits, and began playing ‘String’. What joy I felt when, my attention wandering, I received a sharp, strong slap on my fingers, and how, afterwards, I tried on purpose to look as if I weren’t paying attention and how she teased me and would not touch my outstretched hands! And the things we did that evening! We played the piano, we sang, we danced, we acted a gipsy camp. Nirmatsky was dressed up as a bear and made to drink salt water. Count Malevsky showed us various card tricks, and finished – after shuffling all the cards – by dealing himself a whist hand, all trumps, upon which Looshin ‘had the honour to congratulate him’.