"What aunt were you talking of just now? What aunt is that?"

"That was a saving lie," laughed Ariadne. "They must not know I'm
without a chaperon."

After a moment's silence she came closer to me and said:

"My dear, my dear, do be friends with Lubkov. He is so unhappy! His
wife and mother are simply awful."

She used the formal mode of address in speaking to Lubkov, and when
she was going up to bed she said good-night to him exactly as she
did to me, and their rooms were on different floors. All this made
me hope that it was all nonsense, and that there was no sort of
love affair between them, and I felt at ease when I met him. And
when one day he asked me for the loan of three hundred roubles, I
gave it to him with the greatest pleasure.

Every day we spent in enjoying ourselves and in nothing but enjoying
ourselves; we strolled in the park, we ate, we drank. Every day
there were conversations with the Russian family. By degrees I got
used to the fact that if I went into the park I should be sure to
meet the old man with jaundice, the Catholic priest, and the Austrian
General, who always carried a pack of little cards, and wherever
it was possible sat down and played patience, nervously twitching
his shoulders. And the band played the same thing over and over
again.

At home in the country I used to feel ashamed to meet the peasants
when I was fishing or on a picnic party on a working day; here too