so long that I began to be afraid that she would think me a stupid boy,
I decided at all hazards to counteract such a notion.

"Vous etes une habitante de Moscou?" I began, and, on receiving an
affirmative answer, continued. "Et moi, je n'ai encore jamais frequente
la capitale" (with a particular emphasis on the word "frequente"). Yet I
felt that, brilliant though this introduction might be as evidence of my
profound knowledge of the French language, I could not long keep up the
conversation in that manner. Our turn for dancing had not yet arrived,
and silence again ensued between us. I kept looking anxiously at her in
the hope both of discerning what impression I had produced and of her
coming to my aid.

"Where did you get that ridiculous glove of yours?" she asked me all of
a sudden, and the question afforded me immense satisfaction and relief.
I replied that the glove belonged to Karl Ivanitch, and then went on
to speak ironically of his appearance, and to describe how comical he
looked in his red cap, and how he and his green coat had once fallen
plump off a horse into a pond.

The quadrille was soon over. Yet why had I spoken ironically of poor
Karl Ivanitch? Should I, forsooth, have sunk in Sonetchka's esteem if,
on the contrary, I had spoken of him with the love and respect which I
undoubtedly bore him?

The quadrille ended, Sonetchka said, "Thank you," with as lovely an
expression on her face as though I had really conferred, upon her a
favour. I was delighted. In fact I hardly knew myself for joy and could
not think whence I derived such case and confidence and even daring.