As he insisted I complied reluctantly.
Kamarowsky accepted the invitation with touching gratitude, and a large basket of roses preceded his arrival.
Prilukoff, who was still hanging about in my boudoir, but declared that he would not stay to dinner, sniffed the roses with a cynical smile:
“Flowers! Flowers! Nothing but flowers! Nous allons changer tout cela.”
The door bell rang, announcing the arrival of my visitor.
“What am I to do with him now he is here?” I asked Prilukoff uneasily. “What shall I say?”
“Do nothing and say nothing. And mind you don't open any letter in his presence.”
“Any letter?” I asked, in bewilderment. “What letter?”
“I tell you not to open any. That is enough.” With this obscure injunction Prilukoff urged me towards the drawing-room, and I went in to receive my guest.