our little quarrels, the picnics. . . .

"How nice it all was really!" she sighed. "But we're not having a
slow time here either. We have a great many acquaintances, my dear,
my best of friends! To-morrow I will introduce you to a Russian
family here, but please buy yourself another hat." She scrutinised
me and frowned. "Abbazzia is not the country," she said; "here one
must be _comme il faut_."

Then we went to the restaurant. Ariadne was laughing and mischievous
all the time; she kept calling me "dear," "good," "clever," and
seemed as though she could not believe her eyes that I was with
her. We sat on till eleven o'clock, and parted very well satisfied
both with the supper and with each other.

Next day Ariadne presented me to the Russian family as: "The son
of a distinguished professor whose estate is next to ours."

She talked to this family about nothing but estates and crops, and
kept appealing to me. She wanted to appear to be a very wealthy
landowner, and did, in fact, succeed in doing so. Her manner was
superb like that of a real aristocrat, which indeed she was by
birth.

"But what a person my aunt is!" she said suddenly, looking at me
with a smile. "We had a slight tiff, and she has bolted off to
Meran. What do you say to that?"

Afterwards when we were walking in the park I asked her: