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Semyon Matveitch was delighted at his son’s arrival, embraced him, but at once asked, ‘For a fortnight, eh? On leave, eh?’ and sent me away.

I sat a long while at my window, and gazed at the lights flitting to and fro in the rooms of the big house. I watched them, I listened to the new, unfamiliar voices; I was attracted by the cheerful commotion, and something new, unfamiliar, bright, flitted into my soul too…. The next day before dinner I had my first conversation with him. He had come across to see my stepfather with some message from Semyon Matveitch, and he found me in our little sitting-room. I was getting up to go; he detained me. He was very lively and unconstrained in all his movements and words, but of superciliousness or arrogance, of the tone of Petersburg superiority, there was not a trace in him, and nothing of the officer, of the guardsman…. On the contrary, in the very freedom of his manner there was something appealing, almost shamefaced, as though he were begging you to overlook something. Some people’s eyes are never laughing, even at the moment of laughter; with him it was the lips that almost never changed their beautiful line, while his eyes were almost always smiling. So we chatted for about an hour… what about I don’t remember; I remember only that I looked him straight in the face all the while, and oh, how delightfully at ease I felt with him!

In the evening I played on the piano. He was very fond of music, and he sat down in a low chair, and laying his curly head on his arm, he listened intently. He did not once praise me, but I felt that he liked my playing, and I played with ardour. Semyon Matveitch, who was sitting near his son, looking through some plans, suddenly frowned. ‘Come, madam,’ he said, smoothing himself down and buttoning himself up, as his manner was, ‘that’s enough; why are you trilling away like a canary? It’s enough to make one’s head ache. For us old folks you wouldn’t exert yourself so, no fear…’ he added in an undertone, and again he sent me away. Michel followed me to the door with his eyes, and got up from his seat. ‘Where are you off to? Where are you off to?’ cried Semyon Matveitch, and he suddenly laughed, and then said something more… I could not catch his words; but Mr. Ratsch, who was present, sitting in a corner of the drawing-room (he was always ‘present,’ and that time he had brought in the plans), laughed, and his laugh reached my ears…. The same thing, or almost the same thing, was repeated the following evening… Semyon Matveitch grew suddenly cooler to me.

Four days later I met Michel in the corridor that divided the big house in two. He took me by the hand, and led me to a room near the dining-room, which was called the portrait gallery. I followed him, not without emotion, but with perfect confidence. Even then, I believe, I would have followed him to the end of the world, though I had as yet no suspicion of all that he was to me. Alas, I loved him with all the passion, all the despair of a young creature who not only has no one to love, but feels herself an uninvited and unnecessary guest among strangers, among enemies!… Michel said to me–and it was strange! I looked boldly, directly in his face, while he did not look at me, and flushed slightly–he said to me that he understood my position, and sympathised with me, and begged me to forgive his father…. ‘As far as I’m concerned,’ he added, ‘I beseech you always to trust me, and believe me, to me you ‘re a sister–yes, a sister.’ Here he pressed my hand warmly. I was confused, it was my turn to look down; I had somehow expected something else, some other word. I began to thank him. ‘No, please,’–he cut me short–‘don’t talk like that…. But remember, it’s a brother’s duty to defend his sister, and if you ever need protection, against any one whatever, rely upon me. I have not been here long, but I have seen a good deal already… and among other things, I see through your stepfather.’ He squeezed my hand again, and left me.