"'Well, would you believe it, I don't remember that. . . .'

"'Well, that's all over and done with . . .' sighed Kisotchka. 'At
one time I was your idol, and now it is my turn to look up to all
of you. . . .'

"From further conversation I learned that two years after leaving
the high school, Kisotchka had been married to a resident in the
town who was half Greek, half Russian, had a post either in the
bank or in the insurance society, and also carried on a trade in
corn. He had a strange surname, something in the style of Populaki
or Skarandopulo. . . . Goodness only knows--I have forgotten. . . .
As a matter of fact, Kisotchka spoke little and with reluctance
about herself. The conversation was only about me. She asked me
about the College of Engineering, about my comrades, about Petersburg,
about my plans, and everything I said moved her to eager delight
and exclamations of, 'Oh, how good that is!'

"We went down to the sea and walked over the sands; then when the
night air began to blow chill and damp from the sea we climbed up
again. All the while our talk was of me and of the past. We walked
about until the reflection of the sunset had died away from the
windows of the summer villas.

"'Come in and have some tea,' Kisotchka suggested. 'The samovar
must have been on the table long ago. . . . I am alone at home,'
she said, as her villa came into sight through the green of the
acacias. 'My husband is always in the town and only comes home at
night, and not always then, and I must own that I am so dull that