“‘I know!  I saw you yesterday kissing Mademoiselle Zina!’

“Sasha looked at me and said: 

“‘You are a fool.’

“He was not so cowardly as Zinotchka, and so my effect did not come off.  That provoked me to further efforts.  If Sasha was not frightened it was evident that he did not believe that I had seen and knew all about it; wait a bit, I would show him.

“At our lessons before dinner Zinotchka did not look at me, and her voice faltered.  Instead of trying to scare me she tried to propitiate me in every way, giving me full marks, and not complaining to my father of my naughtiness.  Being intelligent beyond my years I exploited her secret:  I did not learn my lessons, walked into the schoolroom on my head, and said all sorts of rude things.  In fact, if I had remained in that vein till to-day I should have become a famous blackmailer.  Well, a week passed.  Another person’s secret irritated and fretted me like a splinter in my soul.  I longed at all costs to blurt it out and gloat over the effect.  And one day at dinner, when we had a lot of visitors, I gave a stupid snigger, looked fiendishly at Zinotchka and said: 

“‘I know.  Gy—­y!  I saw! . . .’

“‘What do you know?’ asked my mother.

“I looked still more fiendishly at Zinotchka and Sasha.  You ought to have seen how the girl flushed up, and how furious Sasha’s eyes were!  I bit my tongue and did not go on.  Zinotchka gradually turned pale, clenched her teeth, and ate no more dinner.  At our evening lessons that day I noticed a striking change in Zinotchka’s face.  It looked sterner, colder, as it were, more like marble, while her eyes gazed strangely straight into my face, and I give you my word of honour I have never seen such terrible, annihilating eyes, even in hounds when they overtake the wolf.  I understood their expression perfectly, when in the middle of a lesson she suddenly clenched her teeth and hissed through them: 

“’I hate you!  Oh, you vile, loathsome creature, if you knew how I hate you, how I detest your cropped head, your vulgar, prominent ears!’

“But at once she took fright and said: 

“’I am not speaking to you, I am repeating a part out of a play. . . .’

“Then, my friends, at night I saw her come to my bedside and gaze a long time into my face.  She hated me passionately, and could not exist away from me.  The contemplation of my hated pug of a face had become a necessity to her.  I remember a lovely summer evening . . . with the scent of hay, perfect stillness, and so on.  The moon was shining.  I was walking up and down the avenue, thinking of cherry jam.  Suddenly Zinotchka, looking pale and lovely, came up to me, she caught hold of my hand, and breathlessly began expressing herself: 

“’Oh, how I hate you!  I wish no one harm as I do you!  Let me tell you that!  I want you to understand that!’

“You understand, moonlight, her pale face, breathless with passion, the stillness . . . little pig as I was I actually enjoyed it.  I listened to her, looked at her eyes. . . .  At first I liked it, and enjoyed the novelty.  Then I was suddenly seized with terror, I gave a scream, and ran into the house at breakneck speed.