CHAPTER VI.
SKATING AND RUSSIAN OPERA.
December 28.
I AM twenty-five years old to-day. I looked at myself in the mirror this morning, to see what changes there were since yesterday, and was surprised that "twenty-five" was not written on my features. I feel as though it ought to be.
I suppose it would be the proper thing to moralize somewhat on my birthday, but I don't feel in the mood for it. I must have the blues severely before I can moralize. And I have too many things to write about to-day.
I had heard so much of Sacha Novissilsky that I was curious to see him. Alice receives every Wednesday evening, and it was there that I met him first. Judith has met him often; but I have been so interested of late in making our apartment comfortable and home-like that I have shunned society.
After talking with me for some time, on Wednesday evening, Sacha said seriously, "I am sure, mademoiselle, that you have guessed my secret."
"Perhaps I have," I responded, decidedly mystified.
He continued, "I have never loved any one else, and I never shall care for another as I do for her."
