A young engineer occupied an apartment in the house where we lived; our rooms communicated. My neighbour possessed a loud baritone voice and sang very improper songs for a young lady to hear. Though unacquainted, we chorused sometimes to each other, and when I sang my horse-guard chansonette, from my neighbour’s room came the most sonorous second. A gentleman of quite different style, who was acutely sensitive to noise, lived side by side with our drawing-room; a stern, frozen-up human being, grey and wrinkled. When we were not behaving too quietly, he sent the maid to request us to moderate our gambols, but we were not in the habit of being silenced. My singing mistress procured us tickets for the distribution of prizes in the St. Petersburg conservatory, where I attracted the attention of one of the professors, Mme. Everardi, who gave me an appreciative glance and said, pointing me out, “Look at this young lady, she is destined for the stage.” I was enjoying the many pleasures St. Petersburg could offer, and was bombarded with invitations of every kind; people were asking me to dinners, dances and all sorts of delicious things. We came home at most eccentric hours, turning night into day. I liked the admiration I excited. As soon as I entered a ball-room, I became surrounded by a circle of partners, quarrelling with each other for the privilege of a dance with me. My ball-programme was soon scrawled all over; I mixed up my dancers and began to wonder how I could possibly manage six youths at once. They drew lots for the right of dancing with me, and as neither seemed inclined to give way, they would end by half tearing me to pieces between them. I danced nearly every dance with two partners, and how I danced, with all my soul in it, for I never did things by halves. Hot but indefatigable, I flew round the room, dancing as though I would never tire. My partners wanted to flirt with me in the intervals but I never gave them the time, keeping them whirling me round till they had not much breath left for talking. Towards the end of the evening my hair became untidy and my train torn to pieces, every scrap of trimming on it destroyed. My admirers were of all ages, from mere boys to wrinkled greybeards. I received their attentions as a matter of course, and though I flirted with many men, I never really lost my heart to any of them. A young officer appeared at last on my horizon, with whom I almost convinced myself that I was in love. He carried my photograph in a locket on his watch-chain, and brought me flowers and bonbons, and spoilt my appetite, making me eat lots of sweets before dinner. One day I scratched my finger with a pin; it was nothing but a simple scratch, but a drop of blood appeared and my chivalrous admirer tore his handkerchief instantly to pieces and bound up my wound. He preserved that rag, stained with my precious blood, as a sweet remembrance. Very touching indeed!