that their lives had been wasted. She was the very joy and shudder of
felicity and she brought only sadness and torment to the hearts of men.

"In short, she must have been an extraordinary woman, or else Tomassov
was an extraordinary young fellow to feel in that way and to talk like
this about her. I told you the fellow had a lot of poetry in him and
observed that all this sounded true enough. It would be just about the
sorcery a woman very much out of the common would exercise, you know.
Poets do get close to truth somehow--there is no denying that.

"There is no poetry in my composition, I know, but I have my share of
common shrewdness, and I have no doubt that the lady was kind to the
youngster, once he did find his way inside her salon. His getting in
is the real marvel. However, he did get in, the innocent, and he found
himself in distinguished company there, amongst men of considerable
position. And you know, what that means: thick waists, bald heads, teeth
that are not--as some satirist puts it. Imagine amongst them a nice
boy, fresh and simple, like an apple just off the tree; a modest,
good-looking, impressionable, adoring young barbarian. My word! What a
change! What a relief for jaded feelings! And with that, having, in his
nature that, dose; of poetry which saves even a simpleton from being a
fool.

"He became an artlessly, unconditionally devoted slave. He was rewarded
by being smiled on and in time admitted to the intimacy of the house.
It may be that the unsophisticated young barbarian amused the exquisite
lady. Perhaps--since he didn't feed on tallow candles--he satisfied
some need of tenderness in the woman. You know, there are many kinds of
tenderness highly civilized women are capable of. Women with heads and
imagination, I mean, and no temperament to speak of, you understand. But