"Not at all, the affair was perfectly respectable.
You see, the townspeople didn't give us the same welcome everywhere, but in Bucharest the people were so easy- going with us that one day when I started playing a violin the girls at once came in their Sunday dresses and began to dance, and then it became a daily habit.
"On an evening like that, when the moon was shining, I went into the passage where my Bulgarian girl had disappeared.
On seeing me she pretended to be picking dry rose petals, which, incidentally, are gathered there by the sackful.
But I put my arms round her, held her close to my heart and kissed her several times.
"From then on, when the moon and stars came out in the sky, I would hurry to my beloved and forget the day's worries while I was with her.
And when the time came for us to march on we swore eternal love, and parted for ever."
"Is that all?" asked Lyudmila Lvovna, disappointed.
"What else did you expect?" replied the general.
"You will pardon me for saying so, Yakov Mikhailovich, but that isn't love — it's just an army officer's camp adventure."
"I don't know, really, whether it was love or some other sentiment."
"What I mean is, have you never known genuine love?
A love that — well, in short, the kind of love that is holy and pure and eternal — and unearthly — Have you never experienced love like that?"
"I can't tell, honestly," faltered the old man, rising from his arm-chair. "I suppose not.
At first, when I was young, I had no time, what with merry-making and cards and war.
It seemed as if life and youth and good health would last for ever.
Then I looked back and saw that I was already an old wreck.
And now, Vera dear, please don't keep me any longer.
I'll say goodbye to you all.
Hussar," he said to Bakhtinsky, "the night is warm, let's go and meet our carriage."
"I'll go with you, Grandad," said Vera.
"So will I," added Anna.
Before leaving Vera stepped up to her husband.
"There's a red case in my drawer," she said to him softly. "In it you'll find a letter.
Read it."
VIII
Anna and Bakhtinsky led the way, followed at some twenty paces by the general, arm-in-arm with Vera.
The night was so black that during the first few minutes, before their eyes got used to the darkness, they had to grope for the way with their feet.
Anosov, who despite his age still boasted surprisingly keen eyesight, had to help his companion.
From time to time his big cold hand fondly stroked Vera's hand, which lay lightly on the bend of his sleeve.
"She's a funny woman, that Lyudmila Lvovna," he said suddenly, as if continuing aloud the thoughts that had been going through his head. "I've seen it so often in my life: as soon as a lady gets past fifty, especially if she's a widow or a spinster, she longs to hang about somebody else's love.
She either spies, gloats and gossips, or offers to take care of your happiness, or works up a lot of treacly talk about exalted love.
But I would say that nowadays people no longer know how to love.
I see no real love.
Nor did I see any in my time!"
"How can that be, Grandad?" Vera objected as she squeezed his arm slightly. "What slander!
You were married yourself, weren't you?
Then you must have loved."
"It doesn't mean a thing, Vera.
Do you know how I got married?
She was a peach of a girl, young and fresh, and she would sit by my side, her bosom heaving under the blouse.
She'd lower her beautiful long eyelashes, and blush suddenly.
The skin of her cheeks was so delicate, her neck so white and innocent, and her hands so soft and warm.
God!
Her papa and mamma slunk about us, eavesdropped at the door, and looked wistfully at me — with the gaze of faithful dogs.
And I'd get little swift pecks when I was leaving.
At tea her foot would touch mine as if by chance.
Well, they got me before I knew where I was.
'Dear Nikita Antonovich, I have come to ask you for the hand of your daughter.
Believe me, this angel — ' Before I had finished the papa's eyes were moist, and he started to kiss me.