I seized the opportunity when she was looking down and fell to watching her, at first stealthily, then more and more boldly. Her face struck me as even more charming than on the previous evening; everything in it was so delicate, clever, and sweet. She was sitting with her back to a window covered with a white blind, the sunshine, streaming in through the blind, shed a soft light over her fluffy golden curls, her innocent neck, her sloping shoulders, and tender untroubled bosom. I gazed at her, and how dear and near she was already to me! It seemed to me I had known her a long while and had never known anything nor lived at all till I met her…. She was wearing a dark and rather shabby dress and an apron; I would gladly, I felt, have kissed every fold of that dress and apron. The tips of her little shoes peeped out from under her skirt; I could have bowed down in adoration to those shoes…. “And here I am sitting before her,” I thought; “I have made acquaintance with her … what happiness, my God!” I could hardly keep from jumping up from my chair in ecstasy, but I only swung my legs a little, like a small child who has been given sweetmeats. I was as happy as a fish in water, and I could have stayed in that room for ever, have never left that place. Her eyelids were slowly lifted, and once more her clear eyes shone kindly upon me, and again she smiled. “How you look at me!” she said slowly, and she held up a threatening finger. I blushed … “She understands it all, she sees all,” flashed through my mind. “And how could she fail to understand and see it all?” All at once there was a sound in the next room—the clink of a sabre. “Zina!” screamed the princess in the drawing-room, “Byelovzorov has brought you a kitten.” “A kitten!” cried Zinaïda, and getting up from her chair impetuously, she flung the ball of worsted on my knees and ran away. I too got up and, laying the skein and the ball of wool on the window-sill, I went into the drawing-room and stood still, hesitating. In the middle of the room, a tabby kitten was lying with outstretched paws; Zinaïda was on her knees before it, cautiously lifting up its little face. Near the old princess, and filling up almost the whole space between the two windows, was a flaxen curly-headed young man, a hussar, with a rosy face and prominent eyes. “What a funny little thing!” Zinaïda was saying; “and its eyes are not grey, but green, and what long ears! Thank you, Viktor Yegoritch! you are very kind.” The hussar, in whom I recognised one of the young men I had seen the evening before, smiled and bowed with a clink of his spurs and a jingle of the chain of his sabre. “You were pleased to say yesterday that you wished to possess a tabby kitten with long ears … so I obtained it. Your word is law.” And he bowed again. The kitten gave a feeble mew and began sniffing the ground. “It’s hungry!” cried Zinaïda. “Vonifaty, Sonia! bring some milk.”