"In that case let us begin. Let us start from the title, Mémoires."
"Reminiscences . . ." translated Mademoiselle Enquette.
"Reminiscences . . ." repeated Vorotov.
Smiling good naturedly and breathing heavily, he passed a quarter of an hour over the word mémoires and the same with the word de. This tired Alice Ossipovna out. She answered his questions carelessly, got confused and evidently neither understood her pupil nor tried to. Vorotov asked her questions, and at the same time glanced furtively at her fair hair, thinking:
"The hair is not naturally curly. She waves it. Marvellous! She works from morning till night and yet she finds time to wave her hair."
At eight o'clock sharp she got up, gave him a dry, cold "Au revoir, Monsieur," and left the study. After her lingered the same sweet, subtle, agitating perfume. The pupil again did nothing for a long time, but sat by the table and thought.
During the following days he became convinced that his teacher was a charming girl serious and punctual, but very uneducated and incapable of teaching grown up people; so he decided he would not waste his time, but part with her and engage someone else. When she came for the seventh lesson he took an envelope containing seven roubles out of his pocket. Holding it in his hands and blushing furiously, he began:
