The heat in Tiflis was very trying, there was scarcely air enough to breathe, and my aunt decided to go to Borjom, the summer residence of the Grand-Duke Michael, a delightful watering-place buried in verdure and surrounded by mountains covered with thick forests. Serge Michailovitch came round occasionally to see how we got on. I looked forward eagerly to his visits; his society became very dear to me for he succeeded in winning my love; my heart had spoken at last and I was sensible of the tremendous power he exercised over me. I was beginning to know that I too, had a little power over him. Serge Michailovitch appeared so pleased when he saw me; his hand trembled when it touched mine. His affection seemed to rise with extraordinary rapidity from zero to boiling point, and it was whispered that General Doukhovskoy had serious views towards me; my aunt with her all-seeing eyes had perceived for some time already the turn events had taken. In July the general had to go to Russia for a short time; On the eve of his departure he came to Borjom. That evening altered the course of my life. He managed to get me away from the others on the terrace; we were so happy to be left alone and drew closer to each other, watching the glow-worms’ fairy lamps amidst the shrubs below. For some time there was no conversation between us, but there was no need for words, we looked into each other’s eyes and found that one can kiss even with looks. Suddenly Serge Michailovitch bent over me, his face drawn with emotion, and asked me if I cared for him a little bit? The moment was decisive; my head dropped on my arms on the table and tears were my only answer. I felt assured of one thing now, that he loved me; yet, what had he said to me? Nothing and yet everything!