"
"It is a wonderful story--it happened in Moscow."
"But you were only a child then?"
"Yes, and she who loved me was a child too. She was four years old."
"Ah," said Loulou, with an involuntary sigh of relief.
"When I was about ten years old I was sitting one sunny autumn
afternoon in the yard of our house on a little stool, and was deep
in a story of pirates. Suddenly a shadow fell on my book. I looked
up, and saw a wonderfully beautiful child before me, a long-haired,
rosy-cheeked little girl, who looked at me with deep shining eyes,
half-timidly, and shyly held her hand before her mouth. I smiled in
a friendly way, and called to her to come nearer. She sprang close
to me, at once threw her arms joyfully round my neck, kissed me, sat
down on my knee, and said, 'Now tell me what your name is. I am a
little girl, and my name is Sonia. I am not going away from you. Let
me go to sleep for a little.' An old servant who had followed her
came up and said in astonishment, 'Well, young sir, you may be proud
of yourself, the child is generally so wild and rough, and with you
she is as tame as a kitten.' I learned from her that little Sonia
lived in the neighborhood, and that her aunt had come to look for
her in our house.
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