Sophie was sitting at the table sewing something. I was looking out of the window, because I like watching the passers-by. Suddenly a footman came in and announced, “Teplòv.” “Ask him in,” cried Sophie, and flew to embrace me. “Oh, Medji, Medji! if only you knew who it is: a Kammerjunker,[16] dark, and with such eyes! Quite black, and as bright as fire.” And she ran away to her room. A minute afterwards there came in a young Kammerjunker, with black whiskers. He went up to the mirror, set his hair straight, and looked about the room. I growled and sat down in my place. Presently Sophie came in, looking very happy. He clinked his spurs and she bowed. I pretended not to notice anything, and went on looking out of the window, but I turned my head a little on one side and tried to overhear their conversation. Oh, _ma chère_, what rubbish they talked! They talked about how, at a dance, one lady had made a mistake and done the wrong figure; then about how a certain Bobòv, with a _jabot_ on, looked very like a stork and nearly tumbled down; then about how a certain Lìdina imagines that her eyes are blue, whereas they are green—and so on. I cannot think, _ma chère_, what she finds in her Teplòv. Why is she so enchanted with him?... It seems to me, too, that there’s something wrong here. It’s quite impossible that Teplòv could bewitch her so. What comes next? Really, if she can like this Kammerjunker, it seems to me she might as well like the official who sits in papa’s study. Oh, _ma chère_, if you knew what a fright he is! Exactly like a tortoise in a bag.... What official can that be? He has a most peculiar name. He always sits and mends pens. The hair on his head is very much like hay. Papa always sends him on errands instead of the servant.... I believe that beastly little dog is alluding to me. Now, _is_ my hair like hay? Sophie simply cannot keep from laughing when she looks at him. You lie, you confounded dog! What an abominable style! As if I didn’t know that this is simply a case of envy; as if I didn’t know it’s an intrigue. It’s an intrigue of the chief of the section. The man has sworn implacable hate against me, and now he does everything he can to injure me, to injure me at every step. Well, I’ll look at just one more letter, perhaps the affair will explain itself. MA CHÈRE FIDÈLE,—Forgive me for having been so long without writing; I have been in a state of absolute intoxication. It is perfectly true what some writer has said, that love is second life. And then there are great changes going on in our house. The Kammerjunker comes every day now. Sophie is madly in love with him. Papa is very happy. I even heard from our Grigòrii, who sweeps the floors and almost always talks to himself, that there will soon be a wedding, because papa is very anxious to see Sophie married, either to a general, or to a Kammerjunker, or an army colonel.