swinging his feet in enormous tattered boots, persistently stared at him. 'And his master,' thought Aratov, 'is waiting for him, no doubt, while he, lazy scamp, is kicking up his heels here. . . .'
But at that very instant he felt that some one had come up and was standing close behind him . . . there was a breath of something warm from behind. . . .
He looked round. . . . She!
He knew her at once, though a thick, dark blue veil hid her features. He instantaneously leapt up from the seat, but stopped short, and could not utter a word. She too was silent. He felt great embarrassment; but her embarrassment was no less. Aratov, even through the veil, could not help noticing how deadly pale she had turned. Yet she was the first to speak.
'Thanks,' she began in an unsteady voice, 'thanks for coming. I did not expect . . .' She turned a little away and walked along the boulevard. Aratov walked after her.
'You have, perhaps, thought ill of me,' she went on, without turning her head; 'indeed, my conduct is very strange. . . . But I had heard so much about you . . . but no! I . . . that was not the reason. . . . If only you knew . . . There was so much I wanted to tell you,
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