"To-morrow the Head-Master's wife is having a birthday party for her eldest daughter—is the old lady going?"
"I don't know," said Sasha.
But already the hope stirred within him, not so much a hope as a desire, that Kokovkina would go and Liudmilla come and stay with him a while. In the evening he reminded Kokovkina of the morrow's party.
"I'd almost forgotten it," said Kokovkina, "of course, I must go. She's such a charming girl."
And, next day, as soon as Sasha had returned from school, Kokovkina went to the Khripatch's. Sasha was delighted with the idea that he had helped to get Kokovkina out of the house that day. He felt certain that Liudmilla would find time to come.
So it happened—Liudmilla came. She kissed Sasha's cheek and gave him her hand to kiss, and again she laughed and he blushed. A moist, sweet and flower-like odour came from Liudmilla's clothes—rose and orris, the fleshly and voluptuous orris blooming among roses. Liudmilla brought a long narrow box wrapped up in thin paper through which showed dimly a yellow label. She sat down, put the box on her knees, and looked archly at Sasha.
"Do you like dates?" she asked.
"Yes, I do," said Sasha with an amused grimace.
"Well, I've got some here for you," she said with a serious air.
She took the cover from the box and said: