apologising. If he asked for anything it was "Excuse me"; if he
gave you anything it was "Excuse me" too.

As for his sister, she was a character out of a different opera. I
must explain that I had not been acquainted with the Kotlovitches
in my childhood and early youth, for my father had been a professor
at N., and we had for many years lived away. When I did make their
acquaintance the girl was twenty-two, had left school long before,
and had spent two or three years in Moscow with a wealthy aunt who
brought her out into society. When I was introduced and first had
to talk to her, what struck me most of all was her rare and beautiful
name--Ariadne. It suited her so wonderfully! She was a brunette,
very thin, very slender, supple, elegant, and extremely graceful,
with refined and exceedingly noble features. Her eyes were shining,
too, but her brother's shone with a cold sweetness, mawkish as
sugar-candy, while hers had the glow of youth, proud and beautiful.
She conquered me on the first day of our acquaintance, and indeed
it was inevitable. My first impression was so overwhelming that to
this day I cannot get rid of my illusions; I am still tempted to
imagine that nature had some grand, marvellous design when she
created that girl.

Ariadne's voice, her walk, her hat, even her footprints on the sandy
bank where she used to angle for gudgeon, filled me with delight
and a passionate hunger for life. I judged of her spiritual being
from her lovely face and lovely figure, and every word, every smile
of Ariadne's bewitched me, conquered me and forced me to believe
in the loftiness of her soul. She was friendly, ready to talk, gay
and simple in her manners. She had a poetic belief in God, made
poetic reflections about death, and there was such a wealth of