We agreed to meet on the next day: to spend the evening in Bagatel park. Claire insisted on showing me a rose, which I had never seen. But now I already knew enough not to ask once more whether we will be together or together with her young companion. By the way, Claire did not express any desire to show me gardens or photographs, even during our previous friendship. Until now, she never invited me to meet outside those societies that sometimes brought us together. I, too, from my side did not attempt to expand our connection. I already remembered how little this very beautiful beauty attracted me. I also don’t remember that I would ever meet her even the slightest encouragement of my closest attempts at rapprochement.

Even when I was thinking about her again, waiting for her at the open-air Royal Café, I couldn’t recognize that she would act with someone else as a friend. She had an unshakable will, she was distinguished by self-confidence and arrogance and did not scare scandals. However, she immediately showed to her admirers on the doorstep, it was worthwhile to go too far, as she also rejected the frank proposals that she made from time to time. Somehow once I claimed at the destruction of one fan. It seemed to me that in the flash, which she wore him in powder, I caught my kind of hatred. Then all of us were stung by the scene, since the talk was about a beautiful young man who possessed both her own and eternal chastity, and, according to her words, was her lover.

I saw a little little Anne coming to see me. She was in the same dress as evening. In order not to offend other guests, she nicely maneuvered between the tables, reminding the dancers, lifted up her cheeks, swayed her hips and made half turns. Reaching me, she was condemned with pomp and gentleness, with some purity, which is found in boarding houses. And she answered in the voice of a well-educated girl: “She is here, monsieur.” She is waiting for you in the car.

This phrase surprised me not only because Claire herself was not named in her, but also because of the excessive respect that was invested in the word "monsieur".

I got up, ready to follow her. Claire's car was standing somewhat on the rue de Rennes. While we were walking, I had a minute to ask the girl two or three meaningless questions; but she, as a child, answered only "yes, monsieur," "no, monsieur," and "I don't know, monsieur."

It was a new black 15 KV. Anne knocked the doors out to me, and I was in love with Claire, who was sitting at the fire. She responded to my greetings with a slight nod. I passed the girl forward and sat behind her in the front seat, where the third could move. Claire right off the spot. She led the cars calmly and calmly. Despite heavy traffic, she quickly pulled out at less busy streets. The weather was perfect. Both women were silent and looked forward. Ann was sitting upright, kneeling down and laying pyky on them. I sat a little sideways so as not to take up too much space. Putting pyky on the back of the seat, I thereby embraced the girl. At the same time, I touched Claire's shoulder. She instinctively moved away. I immediately picked pyky. Since my face was turned to the girl, I caught the arom of her dykhov. Modest enough to ignore him, unless you sit close to her. And yet he seemed to me strong, reminiscent of muskus; such an aipota is often called a sexual act. Of course, such dyhi not go young girl.

Not exactly speaking to anyone, I declared that the weather was wonderful. No answer. We continued to go in silence. No desire to speak, in essence, and did not feel. We left the car at the entrance to the park, and Claire led us into the garden. When we were on the spot, Claire, instead of hanging with us from flower to flower, called our admiration for three or four types, which seemed to her the most beautiful and the place where she knew it.All the flowers were similar: large, but not too lush, the petals on the tips were bent and far from each other, and those that turned out to be closed. The most beautiful - again, according to Claire - was a delicate, flesh-colored rose, the beauty of which was thickened towards the middle, where the half-opened petals formed a deep, shady well. Inside, the color was still red. We have already examined the roses for some time. In addition to us in this single ygolka park there was no one. The closest visitors came from about twenty meters away and didn’t look at our side, because they were absorbed in a larger and more interesting flower.

Turning back to two of my girls, I found out that Claire’s attention is now not on the skin color, but on the subject. The last one, as always, with a flushed look, on the edge of the alley, is less than a meter from the flower. I myself was at that moment next to Claire. I looked from the girl in the white dress to the flower, then back to the girl. Near myself I heard Clare's voice:

- Come closer.

It was said in a calm tone of apprehension, which knows only subordination and is not in a hurry. And yet the voice seemed to me to have changed: deeper and more excited than when it was just to show us a pack or compare the advantages of different prices. Little Ann did not ask to explain what was required of her. After an imperceptible hesitation, she looked at us, who stood like a shield between each other and the busiest places of the park. Clare repeats:

- Hy, come on, come on! Faster!

The small legs took a step forward, and the slender high-heeled shoes naked in the soft earth of the bed. Only now I turned my attention to how thin her ankles were. All the little that was visible except for them, too, impressed with elegance.

“Get at her,” Clare said.

Anne proclaimed the right pyky to the half-opened heart of the flower. She carefully pressed her fingertips to the top edge of the petals not closed to the end, almost without touching the soft, blooming flesh of the flower. Several times she ran her fingers around the interior. Then she gently opened the petals and again closed her five fingertips. Opening and closing in this way the opening two or three times, she stuck in her middle finger, so that he disappeared into a flower. Then she very slowly stretched out her finger back ... to smash him right up to the bottom.

- She has beautiful eyes, isn't it? - Clare said. I agreed. Ryka y girls really was very beautiful - white, thin, light, dexterous and verified in movements. Claire now again expressed the same defiant, angry tone, as the previous evening in a cafe. With some condescension, she indicated to the girl, who had continued to touch rose.

- You should know that she likes it. Thus, she pays off herself. If you want, we can get a confirmation. It becomes wet. Isn’t it, my friend? There was no answer.

“Now that's enough,” Clare said. - Break it down and carry it here.

Anne otdnylla pyky. After that, she remained standing, holding her hands along the body and not moving. I turned in the direction of the place where the garden path along which we had walked took its origin from the main alley; there was nobody there, and nobody paid attention to us. Claire said more:

- Hy, what are you waiting for?

- I do not dare, - said the girl. - It is forbidden. Her words were barely audible, so unbelievably she pronounced them. Claire sent me a smile, giving me witness to the insight of her daughter:

- Of course, it is forbidden ... Like trampling flowers ... and generally speaking flowers! This is written when entering the park.

However, she added in a softer voice to encourage the girl:

- You also know perfectly well that everything that I like is forbidden.

Ann ppyyy to hardness ...