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ut I remember well that through the high-flown phrases there was apparent a genuine feeling, which cannot be feigned. When I had finished reading it I met her glowing, [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] questioning, and childishly impatient eyes fixed upon me. She fastened her eyes upon my face and waited [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] impatiently for what I should say. In a few words, hurriedly, but with a sort of joy and pride, she explained to me that she had [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] been to [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] a dance somewhere in a private house, a family of “very nice people, WHO KNEW NOTHING, absolutely nothing, for she had only come here so lately and it had all happened . . . and she hadn’t made up her mind to stay and was certainly going away as soon as she had paid her debt . . . ” and at that party there had been the student who had danced with her all the evening. He had talked to her, and it turned out that he had known her [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] in old days at Riga when he was a child, they had played together, but a very long time ago — and he knew her parents, but ABOUT THIS he knew nothing, nothing whatever, and had no suspicion! And the day after the dance (three days ago) he had sent her that letter through the friend with whom she had gone to the party . . . and . . . well, that was all.”
She dropped her shining eyes with a sort of bashfulness as she finished.
The poor girl was keeping that student’s letter as a precious treasure, and had run [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] to fetch it, her only treasure, because she did not want me to go away without knowing that she, too, was honestly and genuinely loved; that she, too, was addressed respectfully. No doubt that letter was destined to lie in her box and lead to nothing. But none the less, I am certain that she would keep it all her life as a precious treasure, as her pride and justification, and now at such a minute she had thought of that letter and brought it with naive pride to raise herself in my eyes that I might see, that I, too, might think well of her. I said nothing, pressed her hand and went out. I so longed to get away . . . I walked all the [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] way home, in spite of the fact tha
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