Chapter 8

VIII

All at once, on the Promenade, as it was called--that is to say,
in the Chestnut Avenue--I came face to face with my Englishman.

"I was just coming to see you," he said; "and you appear to be
out on a similar errand. So you have parted with your employers?"

"How do you know that?" I asked in astonishment. "Is EVERY ONE
aware of the fact? "

"By no means. Not every one would consider such a fact to be of
moment. Indeed, I have never heard any one speak of it."

"Then how come you to know it?"

"Because I have had occasion to do so. Whither are you bound? I
like you, and was therefore coming to pay you a visit."

"What a splendid fellow you are, Mr. Astley!" I cried, though
still wondering how he had come by his knowledge. "And since I
have not yet had my coffee, and you have, in all probability,
scarcely tasted yours, let us adjourn to the Casino Cafe, where
we can sit and smoke and have a talk."

The cafe in question was only a hundred paces away; so, when
coffee had been brought, we seated ourselves, and I lit a
cigarette. Astley was no smoker, but, taking a seat by my side,
he prepared himself to listen.

"I do not intend to go away," was my first remark. "I intend,
on the contrary, to remain here."

"That I never doubted," he answered good-humouredly.

It is a curious fact that, on my way to see him, I had never
even thought of telling him of my love for Polina. In fact, I
had purposely meant to avoid any mention of the subject. Nor,
during our stay in the place, had I ever made aught but the
scantiest reference to it. You see, not only was Astley a man of
great reserve, but also from the first I had perceived that
Polina had made a great impression upon him, although he never
spoke of her. But now, strangely enough, he had no sooner seated
himself and bent his steely gaze upon me, than, for some reason
or another, I felt moved to tell him everything--to speak to him
of my love in all its phases. For an hour and a half did I
discourse on the subject, and found it a pleasure to do so, even
though this was the first occasion on which I had referred to
the matter. Indeed, when, at certain moments, I perceived that
my more ardent passages confused him, I purposely increased my
ardour of narration. Yet one thing I regret: and that is that I
made references to the Frenchman which were a little
over-personal.

Mr. Astley sat without moving as he listened to me. Not a word
nor a sound of any kind did he utter as he stared into my eyes.
Suddenly, however, on my mentioning the Frenchman, he
interrupted me, and inquired sternly whether I did right to
speak of an extraneous matter (he had always been a strange man
in his