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I
had
not
announced
my
arrival
to
Stroeve
,
and
when
I
rang
the
bell
of
his
studio
,
on
opening
the
door
himself
,
for
a
moment
he
did
not
know
me
.
Then
he
gave
a
cry
of
delighted
surprise
and
drew
me
in
.
It
was
charming
to
be
welcomed
with
so
much
eagerness
.
His
wife
was
seated
near
the
stove
at
her
sewing
,
and
she
rose
as
I
came
in
.
He
introduced
me
.
"
Don
’
t
you
remember
?
"
he
said
to
her
.
"
I
’
ve
talked
to
you
about
him
often
.
"
And
then
to
me
:
"
But
why
didn
’
t
you
let
me
know
you
were
coming
?
How
long
have
you
been
here
?
How
long
are
you
going
to
stay
?
Why
didn
’
t
you
come
an
hour
earlier
,
and
we
would
have
dined
together
?
"
He
bombarded
me
with
questions
.
He
sat
me
down
in
a
chair
,
patting
me
as
though
I
were
a
cushion
,
pressed
cigars
upon
me
,
cakes
,
wine
.
He
could
not
let
me
alone
.
He
was
heart
-
broken
because
he
had
no
whisky
,
wanted
to
make
coffee
for
me
,
racked
his
brain
for
something
he
could
possibly
do
for
me
,
and
beamed
and
laughed
,
and
in
the
exuberance
of
his
delight
sweated
at
every
pore
.
"
You
haven
’
t
changed
,
"
I
said
,
smiling
,
as
I
looked
at
him
.
He
had
the
same
absurd
appearance
that
I
remembered
.
He
was
a
fat
little
man
,
with
short
legs
,
young
still
—
he
could
not
have
been
more
than
thirty
—
but
prematurely
bald
.
His
face
was
perfectly
round
,
and
he
had
a
very
high
colour
,
a
white
skin
,
red
cheeks
,
and
red
lips
.
His
eyes
were
blue
and
round
too
,
he
wore
large
gold
-
rimmed
spectacles
,
and
his
eyebrows
were
so
fair
that
you
could
not
see
them
.
He
reminded
you
of
those
jolly
,
fat
merchants
that
Rubens
painted
.
When
I
told
him
that
I
meant
to
live
in
Paris
for
a
while
,
and
had
taken
an
apartment
,
he
reproached
me
bitterly
for
not
having
let
him
know
.
He
would
have
found
me
an
apartment
himself
,
and
lent
me
furniture
—
did
I
really
mean
that
I
had
gone
to
the
expense
of
buying
it
?
—
and
he
would
have
helped
me
to
move
in
.
He
really
looked
upon
it
as
unfriendly
that
I
had
not
given
him
the
opportunity
of
making
himself
useful
to
me
.
Meanwhile
,
Mrs
.
Stroeve
sat
quietly
mending
her
stockings
,
without
talking
,
and
she
listened
to
all
he
said
with
a
quiet
smile
on
her
lips
.
"
So
,
you
see
,
I
’
m
married
,
"
he
said
suddenly
;
"
what
do
you
think
of
my
wife
?
"
He
beamed
at
her
,
and
settled
his
spectacles
on
the
bridge
of
his
nose
.
The
sweat
made
them
constantly
slip
down
.
"
What
on
earth
do
you
expect
me
to
say
to
that
?
"
I
laughed
.
"
Really
,
Dirk
,
"
put
in
Mrs
.
Stroeve
,
smiling
.
