bailiffs, and even footmen; a great deal went on lending money, giving bail, and standing security.  There were few landowners in the district who did not owe him money.  He gave to all who asked, and not so much from good nature or confidence in people as from exaggerated gentlemanliness as though he would say:  “Take it and feel how comme il faut I am!” By the time I made his acquaintance he had got into debt himself, had learned what it was like to have a second mortgage on his land, and had sunk so deeply into difficulties that there was no chance of his ever getting out of them again.  There were days when he had no dinner, and went about with an empty cigar-holder, but he was always seen clean and fashionably dressed, and always smelt strongly of ylang-ylang.

The prince’s second misfortune was his absolute solitariness.  He was not married, he had no friends nor relations.  His silent and reserved character and his comme il faut deportment, which became the more conspicuous the more anxious he was to conceal his poverty, prevented him from becoming intimate with people.  For love affairs he was too heavy, spiritless, and cold, and so rarely got on with women. . . .

When we reached the forest this prince and I got out of the chaise and walked along a narrow woodland path which was hidden among huge ferns.  But before we had gone a hundred paces a tall, lank figure with a long oval face, wearing a shabby reefer jacket, a straw hat, and patent leather boots, rose up from behind a young fir-tree some three feet high, as though he had sprung out of the ground.  The stranger held in one hand a basket of mushrooms, with the other he playfully fingered a cheap watch-chain on his waistcoat.  On seeing us he was taken aback, smoothed his waistcoat, coughed politely, and gave an agreeable smile, as though he were delighted to see such nice people as us.  Then, to our complete surprise, he came up to us, scraping with his long feet on the grass, bending his whole person, and, still smiling agreeably, lifted his hat and pronounced in a sugary voice with the intonations of a whining dog: 

“Aie, aie . . . gentlemen, painful as it is, it is my duty to warn you that shooting is forbidden in this wood.  Pardon me for venturing to disturb you, though unacquainted, but . . . allow me to present myself.  I am Grontovsky, the head clerk on Madame Kandurin’s estate.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, but why can’t we shoot?”

“Such is the wish of the owner of this forest!”

The prince and I exchanged glances.  A moment passed in silence.  The prince stood looking pensively at a big fly agaric at his feet, which he had crushed with his stick.  Grontovsky went on smiling agreeably.  His whole face was twitching, exuding honey, and even the watch-chain on his waistcoat seemed to be smiling and trying to impress us all with its refinement.  A shade of embarrassment passed over us like an angel passing; all three of us felt awkward.