Chapter 18 - Page 2

joined by Sonetchka.

She was now seventeen years old, and very small and thin, as well
as of an unhealthy pallor of face. No scars at all were visible,
however, and the beautiful, prominent eyes and bright, cheerful
smile were the same as I had known and loved in my childhood. I
had not expected her to look at all like this, and therefore
could not at once lavish upon her the sentiment which I had been
preparing on the way. She gave me her hand in the English fashion
(which was then as much a novelty as a door-bell), and, bestowing
upon mine a frank squeeze, sat down on the sofa by my side.

"Ah! how glad I am to see you, my dear Nicolas!" she said as she
looked me in the face with an expression of pleasure so sincere
that in the words "my dear Nicolas" I caught the purely friendly
rather than the patronising note. To my surprise she seemed to me
simpler, kinder, and more sisterly after her foreign tour than
she had been before it. True, I could now see that she had two
small scars between her nose and temples, but her wonderful eyes
and smile fitted in exactly with my recollections, and shone as
of old.

"But how greatly you have changed!" she went on. "You are quite
grown-up now. And I-I-well, what do you think of me?"

"I should never have known you," I replied, despite the fact that
at the moment I was thinking that I should have known her
anywhere and always.

"Why? Am I grown so ugly?" she inquired with a movement of her
head.

"Oh, no, decidedly not!" I hastened to reply. "But you have grown
taller and older. As for being uglier, why, you are even--

"Yes, yes; never mind. Do you remember our dances and games, and
St. Jerome, and Madame Dorat?" (As a matter of fact, I could not
recollect any Madame Dorat, but saw that Sonetchka was being led
away by the joy of her childish recollections, and mixing them up
a little). "Ah! what a lovely time it was!" she went on--and once
more there shone before me the same eyes and smile as I had
always carried in my memory. While she had been speaking, I had
been thinking over my position at the present moment, and had
come to the conclusion that I was in love with her. The instant,
however, that I arrived at that result my careless, happy mood
vanished, a mist seemed to arise before me which concealed even
her eyes and smile, and, blushing hotly, I became tongue-tied and
ill-at-ease.

"But times are different now," she went on with a sigh and a
little lifting of her eyebrows. "Everything seems worse than it
used to be, and ourselves too. Is it not so, Nicolas?"

I could return her no answer, but