I liked Mrs. Blicks and her two daughters very much, and often dropped in for a chat. I met in their house two school-boys, a prince and a simple mortal. I kept the prince in the background and displayed a marked preference for the simple mortal, welcoming him as a relief to threatened monotony. There was nothing particularly entrancing in him, but he was still better than no lover at all, and I began to flirt with him until he was half mad. We wandered away from the others on every available occasion, and sauntered together into the park; he drew my arm within his and pressed it tenderly to his heart, whilst our eyes met, speaking volumes. In that moment we seemed very much in love with one another, and wanted to put off as long as possible getting back home. I took a fancy, one day, on visiting Mrs. Blicks, to stimulate a fainting-fit. I lay at full length on a low sofa, wrapped up in a loose white dressing-gown belonging to Mrs. Blicks, whilst my affrighted school-boys made a great fuss over me; they bathed my temples with eau-de-cologne and put a bottle of sal-volatile under my nose. I took delight in prolonging that mystification as long as I could, surveying them out of the corners of my half-closed eyes. Though it was only September, the weather suddenly turned cold and wet; the sky was low and grey, a gusty wind was driving the fallen leaves across the park. We decided to return to Tiflis; mamma was back already from Russia, and soon after I heard that Serge Michailovitch had come also.