some magnificent landscape and say: "It would be nice to have tea here."
One day, seeing Ariadne walking in the distance with a parasol, he nodded towards her and said:
"She's thin, and that's what I like; I don't like fat women."
This made me wince. I asked him not to speak like that about women before me. He looked at me in surprise and said:
"What is there amiss in my liking thin women and not caring for fat ones?"
I made no answer. Afterwards, being in very good spirits and a trifle elevated, he said:
"I've noticed Ariadne Grigoryevna likes you. I can't understand why you don't go in and win."
His words made me feel uncomfortable, and with some embarrassment I told him how I looked at love and women.
"I don't know," he sighed; "to my thinking, a woman's a woman and a man's a man. Ariadne Grigoryevna may be poetical and exalted, as you say, but it doesn't follow that she must be superior to the laws of nature. You see for yourself that she has reached the age when she must have a husband or a lover. I respect women as much as you do, but I don't think certain relations exclude poetry. Poetry's one thing and love is another. It's just the same as it is in farming. The beauty of nature is one thing and the income from your forests or fields is quite an
