Wanting to be rid of him at last, I made him understand, very clearly, that he was a bore, telling him, naughtily, there was no room for him here, and making him feel that three is an awkward number and that he was one too many; then Stenger fell upon me with reproaches, saying that I take all and give nothing, winning all hearts just because I myself had none, and that I was a monster in a woman’s shape to torture him so, a sort of vampire who sucked every drop of happiness out of him. He concluded by telling me that he had given away his heart to one who was utterly unworthy of it. I did not suspect that I was treading on such dangerous ground, but my aunt felt that we were going to have trouble with this too ardent youth; she was sure there was going to be a row. Had I pushed my game too far after all? I had never taken Stenger very seriously and began to feel uncomfortable.

One day when I was shamelessly flirting with Ofrossimoff, absorbed in each other we had forgotten the presence of Stenger, who came to us in a storming rage, his face a thunder cloud, and told Ofrossimoff he wouldn’t play second fiddle, nor submit any longer to a cat-and-mouse game, and also would not permit any other man to usurp his place, especially to such a baby not yet out of the school-room. (Ofrossimoff at that time was a moustachless youth and Stenger had already a slight shadow on his upper lip, of which he was immensely proud.) My aunt was right: there was a frantic personal affair between these two boys, and Ofrossimoff flaming angrily at Stenger’s insult, challenged him to a duel. That was a nice piece of work indeed! The two rivals were going to fight and all through me; they had already invited seconds. Happily the duel did not come off, Stenger was forced to apologise, but nevertheless I was now feeling myself to be a heroine, as for Ofrossimoff, he seemed to me to be as bold as a young lion, and went up twenty-five per cent in my estimation. I had a good scolding, nevertheless, from my aunt, who said I was a fearful little flirt, playing merry games with the affections of men. She accused me also of having given Stenger every encouragement, and said that I must do everything now to cure him of his infatuation and stop all this nonsense. Following her advice, I tried to be as frigid as a whole iceberg to poor Stenger, and told him he was a fool to break his heart for me, and that he must try and find another object for his affections. I hope now I had been unfriendly enough and had brought him to his senses; but it came to nothing, and his parents decided that the best thing was to get him out of my way and send him away from St. Petersburg; so they accompanied their “Benjamine” to the train, and after having installed him in the railway carriage, they returned home peacefully, far from the thought that in spite of his appearance of filial obedience, Stenger had conceived, beforehand, the audacious project of running away, and great was the amazement of the old couple, when their son reappeared that same day, declaring that decidedly he would not be separated from me.

Time went on with the most extraordinary rapidity; winter was over and my happy time at St. Petersburg came to an end all but too soon. I adored the place and a great many people in it, and having seen a little of the world and tasted of its pleasures and temptations, I was awfully sorry to leave this delightful life behind me, and to lose my independence. I wrote home entreating permission to prolong my stay; I would have given ten years of my life for a month more of St. Petersburg, but the answer had just come, and mamma said, “No.” I was delivered soon after to the care of my aunt Leon Galitzine, who volunteered to see me safe to Moscow; mamma would come and fetch me from there in a few days.

Before my departure I had a long conversation with Ofrossimoff; that silly boy actually proposed to me. In an amazingly sudden way he blurted out, with a voice which was eloquent of many things, how madly he loved me, and asked me if I’d marry him. I tried to turn all he said into a joke, and told him to put that ridiculous idea out of his head, for I couldn’t quite take him seriously, like a regular grown-up man. He was so disastrously young in fact, just turned nineteen. “Ah, that will remedy itself soon enough!” exclaimed my suitor, adding that he would wait for ten years if he were sure of getting me at last; and when I told him that love did not grow with waiting, he said that, as far as he was concerned, he promised me the devotion of a lifetime and a lot of other nonsense. Upon this we decided that we should wait for three or four years, and concluded a compact of eternal friendship. We parted with a lingering hand-shake and tender glances. There was a tear in the corner of my eye, for I did care for him in a way. But “out of sight, out of mind!” His face haunted me for some days, and in a week’s time I had forgotten the poor boy’s existence.

Mr. Swinine, a friend of my aunt Galitzine’s, greeted us cordially in Moscow, and offered us the hospitality of his splendid home, where everything spoke of wealth. The house was a veritable museum; all the rooms, of great height and good proportion, were furnished with every luxury, and filled with pictures of old masters and bronzes and antiquities of immense value. There was a painting of the utmost impropriety but it was covered with a veil during our stay.

Mr. Swinine was a very charming and courteous old gentleman, a real Grand Seigneur of the past generation, and a wonderful man for his age, light of step and young of spirit; there was nothing decrepit or infirm about him. The old beau, in spite of his eighty years, was a delightful host, and treated me with an old-world gallantry. His heart was not altogether withered, and in extraordinary circumstances he could even be moved. He felt a new sense of renewed youth in my presence, which heated his old blood; he told me that I seemed to have a talisman about me, and that he had never met a woman who could quicken his pulse like me. His face had the expression of a satyr and his little eyes twinkled merrily when he related to me a number of his feats and love-affairs of “auld lang syne.” He preserved, among other remote remembrances of by-gone days, a beautiful Indian shawl with which I was not a little surprised to see my bed covered; in his opinion I only was worthy of such an honour.

At the end of the week mamma rejoined us and carried me off.

CHAPTER VI
DOLGIK

During the summer manœuvres a squadron was quartered in our village. The chief, a provincial “lady killer,” with a face upon which high-thinking had never been expressed, was the possessor of a very inflammable heart; he fell a victim to my blue eyes, and it wouldn’t have been me if I hadn’t tried to get up a flirtation with him, though he was ridiculous to the highest degree, and saluted me so funnily, bringing his heels together with a snap. He used every means in his power to conquer me and made the most wonderful eyes at me; (when mamma was not looking of course). He began to be immensely sentimental and sang to me to a guitar accompaniment, old love songs, something very pleading and lamentable, with a burden of “I love thee so!” turning up his eyes a good deal as if he was in pain. He was not gifted with much perception of time and tune, my Troubadour, and I could hardly keep serious when he looked so doleful, with his hand pressed to his breast and his eyes devouring me with a passionate gaze.