And behold one morning Kupfer stood before him once more, this time with a somewhat embarrassed countenance. ‘I know,’ he began with a constrained smile, ‘that your visit that time was not much to your taste; but I hope for all that you’ll agree to my proposal ... that you won’t refuse me my request!’ ‘What is it?’ inquired Aratov. ‘Well, do you see,’ pursued Kupfer, getting more and more heated: ‘there is a society here of amateurs, artistic people, who from time to time get up readings, concerts, even theatrical performances for some charitable object.’ ‘And the princess has a hand in it?’ interposed Aratov. ‘The princess has a hand in all good deeds, but that’s not the point. We have arranged a literary and musical matinée ... and at this matinée you may hear a girl ... an extraordinary girl! We cannot make out quite yet whether she is to be a Rachel or a Viardot ... for she sings exquisitely, and recites and plays.... A talent of the very first rank, my dear boy! I’m not exaggerating. Well then, won’t you take a ticket? Five roubles for a seat in the front row.’ ‘And where has this marvellous girl sprung from?’ asked Aratov. Kupfer grinned. ‘That I really can’t say.... Of late she’s found a home with the princess. The princess you know is a protector of every one of that sort.... But you saw her, most likely, that evening.’ Aratov gave a faint inward start ... but he said nothing. ‘She has even played somewhere in the provinces,’ Kupfer continued, ‘and altogether she’s created for the theatre. There! you’ll see for yourself!’ ‘What’s her name?’ asked Aratov. ‘Clara...’ ‘Clara?’ Aratov interrupted a second time. ‘Impossible!’ ‘Why impossible? Clara ... Clara Militch; it’s not her real name ... but that’s what she’s called. She’s going to sing a song of Glinka’s ... and of Tchaykovsky’s; and then she’ll recite the letter from _Yevgeny Oniegin_. Well; will you take a ticket?’ ‘And when will it be?’ ‘To-morrow ... to-morrow, at half-past one, in a private drawing-room, in Ostozhonka.... I will come for you. A five-rouble ticket?... Here it is ... no, that’s a three-rouble one. Here ... and here’s the programme.... I’m one of the stewards.’ Aratov sank into thought. Platonida Ivanovna came in at that instant, and glancing at his face, was in a flutter of agitation at once. ‘Yasha,’ she cried, ‘what’s the matter with you? Why are you so upset? Fyodor Fedoritch, what is it you’ve been telling him?’ Aratov did not let his friend answer his aunt’s question, but hurriedly snatching the ticket held out to him, told Platonida Ivanovna to give Kupfer five roubles at once. She blinked in amazement.... However, she handed Kupfer the money in silence. Her darling Yasha had ejaculated his commands in a very imperative manner. ‘I tell you, a wonder of wonders!’ cried Kupfer, hurrying to the door. ‘Wait till to-morrow.’ ‘Has she black eyes?’ Aratov called after him. ‘Black as coal!’ Kupfer shouted cheerily, as he vanished.