“I was unsuitably dressed.”
“You came to me one Sunday after Mass. I was glad to see you, but instead of appearing in a dress coat, you came in a short jacket.”
At this point Paulina Karpovna rustled in, wearing a muslin dress with wide sleeves so that her white arms were visible almost to the shoulder. She was followed by a cadet.
“What heat! Bonjour, Bonjour,” she cried, nodding in all directions, and then sat down on the divan beside Raisky.
“There is not room here,” he said, and sat down on a chair beside her.
“Ah, Dalila Karpovna,” remarked Niel Andreevich. “Good-day. How are you?”
“Good-day,” she answered drily, turning away.
“Why don’t you bestow a kind glance on me, and let me admire your swanlike neck!”
The young officials in the corner giggled, the ladies smiled, and Paulina Karpovna whispered to Raisky: “The rude creature. The first word he speaks is folly.”
“Ah, you despise an old man. But if I were to seek for your hand? Do I look like a bridegroom, or am I too old for you?”