After dinner Mimotchka lay down to rest a little. But she could not sleep, only lay there and rejoiced at his having come. How could she possibly sleep now? It rested her only to think of him. Could the presence, the vicinity of any other person bring such joy, such light into her life? Well, now he is here. And again they will be together amongst a crowd of strangers. That is all she wants. To be together, and to be young and lovely for him and through him. Because, for instance, the reason why she looks so well to-day is that he has come. The joy of it beautifies her. Oh, how she loves him! She never, never felt so before. And the chief thing is that there is nothing wrong in it. How can that be wrong which awakens the best part of her soul? She fears nothing, nothing.... Is it possible that she really loves him? Well, what if she does? She cannot hold back her heart nor stop it; how it beats!... Of course he will never know. She will never allow him to, and he would never permit himself ... What does it matter if she loves him? The purest and most honourable Woman may be carried away by her feelings.... And in spite of it she may have the strength to remain honest.... They are going out riding, and again there will be a whole evening for them together, they two alone! How beautiful! How beautiful!
Then she began to dress.... Never in her life had her toilet been so successful. Her hair seemed to arrange itself on her head, the buttoned-up habit bodice set like a glove, and when Mimotchka, having scented her handkerchief and taken her riding-whip from Katia's hands, threw a last glance at herself in the mirror, there looked out at her from it such an angelic, poetical little face, with shining eyes and a happy smile, that she almost blew a kiss to her own image. The horses were already brought round. He was seated on horseback, and talking to mamma through the window.
"Please, Valerian Nicolaevitch, do see that she doesn't ride too fast and too far. Any over fatigue is so bad for her, and she has got so venturesome and careless lately.... After all it's not long since her recovery. Do look after her. I give her into your charge."
"Be quite easy, Anna Arcadievna."
Mimotchka came down the steps and sprang lightly into the saddle; she smiled up at mamma and rode off beside Valerian Nicolaevitch, with Osman following a little behind them. And mamma looked after them and thought to herself: "What a fine-looking couple they make! If we lived in Arcadia instead of Petersburg that would have been the sort of husband to have. Still, everything is for the best. A man like that wouldn't have married her, but would have looked out for money, and after marriage would only have amused himself and deceived her.... Les beaux maris ne sont pas les meilleurs.... And you can always find as many admirers as you like, but a husband like Spiridon Ivanovitch is not picked up every day." ...
And mamma meditatively returned to her coiffure, for she was going to see the princess. But where has Vava gone? "Where's your young lady?" she asked Katia.
"She was here a minute ago."
"A minute ago! I ask you where she is now? What are you thinking of, pray? What do you receive wages for from Julia Arcadievna? You were told not to leave your young lady alone for a minute. Go and find her directly!"
Katia listened submissively to mamma, and after she had put together Mimotchka's scattered petticoats and hairpins, she did her hair, scented herself with Mimotchka's eau de toilette, put on a little grey jacket and a hat with a wing at the side, and hurried off to the park, where, at the end of a shady walk, she met David Georgevitch, who was Waiting for her, and who had already presented her with a Caucasian brooch and two turquoise rings.
After leaving Kislovodsk, Valerian Nicolaevitch and Mimotchka rode along the country road. Sometimes they went along slowly and sometimes galloped. (Valerian Nicolaevitch only rode at the kind of pace that pleased Mimotchka; he was not like Variashksi!) At the first pause he began talking about horses, and told Mimotchka what kind of horses he had at Kieff and what kind on his estate. Afterwards, crossing the fords, they remembered Petchorin and Princess Mary,[24] and he talked about Lermontoff and literature.... It was just the same to Mimotchka on what subject she kept silence as long as she could listen to him. Then he began to speak of nature. And she, did she care about nature? Oh yes! (Mimotchka forgot that she had previously only cared about nature somewhere round a bandstand.) It seemed to her then that she loved and always had loved nature. Didn't she like cantering over this green steppe, that waved about like a sea? Didn't she admire the delicate outline of the chain of mountains that bordered the horizon? Oh yes, she loves nature. She had not known anything about it before. In Petersburg and Paris you only see nature in pictures at exhibitions....