“In the course of the seven or eight years since we had met, Kisotchka had greatly changed.  She had grown more robust and stouter, and had quite lost the resemblance to a soft, fluffy kitten.  It was not that her features looked old or faded, but they had somehow lost their brilliance and looked sterner, her hair seemed shorter, she looked taller, and her shoulders were quite twice as broad, and what was most striking, there was already in her face the expression of motherliness and resignation commonly seen in respectable women of her age, and this, of course, I had never seen in her before. . . .  In short, of the school-girlish and the Platonic her face had kept the gentle smile and nothing more. . . .

“We got into conversation.  Learning that I was already an engineer, Kisotchka was immensely delighted.

“‘How good that is!’ she said, looking joyfully into my face.  ’Ah, how good!  And how splendid you all are!  Of all who left with you, not one has been a failure—­they have all turned out well.  One an engineer, another a doctor, a third a teacher, another, they say, is a celebrated singer in Petersburg. . . .  You are all splendid, all of you. . . .  Ah, how good that is!’

“Kisotchka’s eyes shone with genuine goodwill and gladness.  She was admiring me like an elder sister or a former governess.  ’While I looked at her sweet face and thought, ’It wouldn’t be bad to get hold of her to-day!’

“‘Do you remember, Natalya Stepanovna,’ I asked her, ’how I once brought you in the park a bouquet with a note in it?  You read my note, and such a look of bewilderment came into your face. . . .’

“‘No, I don’t remember that,’ she said, laughing.  ’But I remember how you wanted to challenge Florens to a duel over me. . . .’

“‘Well, would you believe it, I don’t remember that. . . .’

“‘Well, that’s all over and done with . . .’ sighed Kisotchka.  ’At one time I was your idol, and now it is my turn to look up to all of you. . . .’

“From further conversation I learned that two years after leaving the high school, Kisotchka had been married to a resident in the town who was half Greek, half Russian, had a post either in the bank or in the insurance society, and also carried on a trade in corn.  He had a strange surname, something in the style of Populaki or Skarandopulo. . . .  Goodness only knows—­I have forgotten. . . .  As a matter of fact, Kisotchka spoke little and with reluctance about herself.  The conversation was only about me.  She asked me about the College of Engineering, about my comrades, about Petersburg, about my plans, and everything I said moved her to eager delight and exclamations of, ‘Oh, how good that is!’

“We went down to the sea and walked over the sands; then when the night air began to blow chill and damp from the sea we climbed up again.  All the while our talk was of me and of the past.  We walked about until the reflection of the sunset had died away from the windows of the summer villas.