to the opera with my mílenki, too; mílenki would never be so stupid as to let me go without tickets, and he is always glad to go with me; my mílenki is such a sweet fellow! And on account of this Kirsánof, I have missed hearing 'Traviata.' I would go every night to the opera, if there were opera, no matter how bad it might be, provided only Bosio sang the chief rôle; if I had such a voice as Bosio, it seems to me I would sing all day long. I wonder if I could get acquainted with her. How could I manage it? That artillerist is well acquainted with Tamberlík.[1] Could it be done through him? No; it is impossible; what an absurd thought! What is the good of getting acquainted with Bosio? Would she sing for me? Of course she has to save her voice.
"And how did Bosio succeed in learning Russian? How purely she pronounces! But what absurd words! Where could she have found such wretched poetry? Yes; she must have studied out of the same grammar which I did; those verses were quoted in it to illustrate the use of quotation marks. How stupid it is to quote such verses in a grammar! though it would not be so bad if the poetry were better; but there is no need of thinking about the meaning of the verses; all one needs to do is to hear her sing:—
'The hours of pleasure
Make the most of;
The years of youth
Give up to love.'[2]
"What ridiculous poetry! wrong accent in the second line: make the most of! of, uv! But what a voice and what feeling she puts into her singing; and her voice is vastly sweeter than it used to be—incomparably better! It is wonderful! How could it improve so much? And here I was wondering how I could get acquainted with her, and she herself has come to call upon me. How did she find out that I wanted her to?"
"Yes; you came to call on me a long time ago," says Bosio, and she speaks Russian.
"I called upon you, Bosio? How could I have called
