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Prince Vasili approached first, and she kissed the bold forehead

that bent over her hand and answered his question by saying that,

on the contrary, she remembered him quite well. Then Anatole came

up to her. She still could not see him. She only felt a soft hand

taking hers firmly, and she touched with her lips a white

forehead, over which was beautiful light-brown hair smelling of

pomade. When she looked up at him she was struck by his beauty.

Anatole stood with his right thumb under a button of his uniform,

his chest expanded and his back drawn in, slightly swinging one

foot, and, with his head a little bent, looked with beaming face

at the princess without speaking and evidently not thinking about

her at all. Anatole was not quick-witted, nor ready or eloquent

in conversation, but he had the faculty, so invaluable in

society, of composure and imperturbable self-possession.