‘I have been cold to you, I know,’ began Zina�da, ‘but you mustn’t pay attention to that � I couldn’t help it� . Come, why talk about it!’

‘You don’t want me to love you, that’s what it is!’ I cried gloomily, in an involuntary outburst.

‘No, love me, but not as you did.’

‘How then?’

‘Let us be friends – come now!’ Zina�da gave me the rose to smell. ‘Listen, you know I’m much older than you – I might be your aunt, really; well, not your aunt, but an older sister. And you � ’

‘You think me a child,’ I interrupted.

‘Well, yes, a child, but a dear, good clever one, whom I love very much. Do you know what? From this day forth I confer on you the rank of page to me; and don’t