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Updated: June 29, 2025
His title of "Disagreeable Man" had been fairly earned, and he hugged it to himself with a triumphant secret satisfaction. There were some people in Petershof who were inclined to believe certain absurd rumours about his alleged kindness.
Put it on; don't make a fuss but do so at once. I know the climate and you don't." She obeyed, and said she was all the cosier for it. As they were nearing Petershof, he said half-nervously: "So my friends took you for my betrothed. I hope you are not offended." "Why should I be?" she said frankly. "I was only amused, because there never were two people less lover-like than you and I are."
She found more than once that she was learning to measure people by a standard different from her former one; not by what they had done or been, but by what they had suffered. But such a change as this does not come suddenly, though, in a place like Petershof, it comes quickly, almost unconsciously.
The only positive thing about him was his rudeness. Was it natural or cultivated? No one in Petershof could say. He had always been as he was; and there was no reason to suppose that he would ever be different. He was, in fact, like the glacier of which he had such a fine view from his room; like the glacier, an unchanging feature of the neighbourhood.
No wonder, then, that he could sympathise with them. That last night at Petershof, Bernardine hardened her heart against the Disagreeable Man. "I am glad I am able to do so," she said to herself. "It makes it easier for me to go." Then the vision of a forlorn figure rose before her. And the little hard heart softened at once. In the morning they breakfasted together as usual.
Reffold, who took nearly all her pleasures with the American colony in the Grand Hotel; and secondly, of a Scotch widow who had returned to Petershof to weep over her husband's grave, but put away her grief together with her widow's weeds, and consoled herself with a Spanish gentleman with these two exceptions, the little English community in the Kurhaus was most humdrum and harmless, being occupied, as in the case of the Disagreeable Man, with cameras and cheese-mites, or in other cases with the still more engrossing pastime of taking care of one's ill-health, whether real or fancied: but yet, an innocent hobby in itself and giving one absolutely no leisure to do anything worse: a great recommendation for any pastime.
She stopped to watch the toboggans flying down the road. And the Disagreeable Man went his own solitary way, a forlorn figure, with a face almost expressionless, and a manner wholly impenetrable. He had lived nearly seven years at Petershof, and, like many others was obliged to continue staying there if he wished to continue staying in this planet.
The caretakers, too, were in a state of agitation; some few keenly anxious to be of to new pastures; and others, who had perhaps formed attachments, an occurrence not unusual in Petershof, were wishing to hold back time with both hands, and were therefore delighted that the weather, which had not yet broken up, gave no legitimate excuse for immediate departure.
"If you have lived here so long, how can you judge of the changes which go on in the world outside Petershof?" "If I have lived here so long," he repeated, in the bitterness of his heart. Bernardine did not notice: she was on a subject which always excited her. "I don't know so much about the political women," she said, "but I do know about the higher education people.
Behold, wishing to screen her inquisitiveness, plunged into a description of Petershof life, speaking enthusiastically about everything, except the scenery, which she did not mention. After a time she ventured to begin once more taking soundings. But some how or other, those bright eyes of Bernardine, which looked at her so searchingly, made her a little nervous, and, perhaps, a little indiscreet.
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