with his head hanging down like a wet poodle. I found this proceeding very Russian—I must admit that it enchanted me—and at the end of the corridor I saw a form dripping from all parts disappearing with all possible speed.
Petia was not entirely without mischief. Mon Dieu, he was young and I absolve him. He liked to come home at the latest possible hours, a matter more desired than easy of accomplishment, as my aunt before going to bed used to go and see if the doors were safely bolted. Upon this he asked me to reopen them—later. I refused to do such a thing, and said: "Do what you like; that is not my business. I promise you I will be discreet, but I will not be your accomplice. Why not ask your old âme damnée of a Grakoff?" But since the unseasonable bath the old âme damnée may well have had a pressing desire for vengeance. Petia invited me sometimes to come into his study to smoke one of those delicious scented Russian cigarettes. There were generally some of his friends there, and all set themselves to talk French, with sometimes amusing results.
My aunt continued often to amuse me. One day, having noticed that a certain friend of the family's and I had talked much together, she teased me on the subject. "Oh, aunt," I replied, "that doesn't count, you know quite well he is married." "But, my dear," she said to me, with her kind smile—ce sourire qui savait la vie—"they are the easiest to catch." And she seemed to say, "How naïve you are
