I do not know to this day why I did not break the engagement, it would have been sufficiently easy, but break it I did not and a week later, reluctantly, I went.

Do you know how houses and streets of which you have observed nothing, afterwards, called out by some important event, leap into detail?
That night I swear that I saw nothing of that little street behind the Mariinsky Theatre.

It was a fine 'white night' at the end of May and the theatre was in a bustle of arrivals because it was nearly eight o'clock.

Not at all the hour of Russian dinner, as you know, but Andrey Vassilievitch always liked to be as English as possible.

I tell you that I saw nothing of the street and yet now I know that at the door of the little _trakteer_ there were two men and a woman laughing, that an _isvotchik_ was drawn up in front of a high white block of flats, asleep, his head fallen on his breast, that the wonderful light, faintly blue and misty like gauze hung down from the sky, down over the houses, but falling not quite on to the pavement which was hard and ugly and grey.