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Or he would suddenly feel ashamed of he knew not what. He felt it

awkward to attract everyone's attention and to be considered a

lucky man and, with his plain face, to be looked on as a sort of

Paris possessed of a Helen. "But no doubt it always is and must

be so!" he consoled himself. "And besides, what have I done to

bring it about? How did it begin? I traveled from Moscow with

Prince Vasili. Then there was nothing. So why should I not stay

at his house? Then I played cards with her and picked up her

reticule and drove out with her. How did it begin, when did it

all come about?" And here he was sitting by her side as her

betrothed, seeing, hearing, feeling her nearness, her breathing,

her movements, her beauty. Then it would suddenly seem to him

that it was not she but he was so unusually beautiful, and that

that was why they all looked so at him, and flattered by this

general admiration he would expand his chest, raise his head, and

rejoice at his good fortune.