I had already become acquainted with Mr. P. at Madame M.’s soirée, as I have mentioned before, not as the father of my young friend, but as the very rich man from Calcutta, who had made such a great impression on me, as he had unexpectedly appeared kind and courteous to me, especially, as he said, he had appreciated my poetic talent. Our second acquaintance supplemented the first, and at the same time it maximised my pleasure, for he again bestowed courtesies and repeated that he was impressed by my poetic talent.
“Never has there been a more beautiful journey,” I said to myself as we separated; “a rich admirer, an old but very young friend and a mountain of a steamship that even the biggest storm couldn’t shake.” And with this conviction I started to walk steadily, pleasurably watching t
