firelesshearth
,
the
uncurtained
window
,
turned
,
and
came
out
.
Sleep
there
?
He
would
rather
sleep
on
the
bare
hillside
,
or
in
the
churchyard
itself
,
for
that
matter
.
The
rush
of
memories
drove
him
before
it
.
He
could
not
stay
in
the
village
.
Every
other
house
in
it
had
been
a
home
too
,
and
was
crowded
with
recollections
almost
as
maddening
as
those
that
peopled
his
own
home
,
in
which
—
bitterest
thought
of
all
—
Roland
Ferrier
had
lisped
out
childish
prattle
,
and
climbed
on
his
knee
to
share
his
caresses
with
baby
Alice
.
And
at
the
remembrance
his
resolution
came
back
.
He
would
go
to
Thornsett
Edge
then
and
there
,
let
come
what
might
.
Weak
as
he
was
,
he
was
strong
enough
to
make
his
tired
feet
carry
him
so
far
,
and
once
there
his
passion
could
be
trusted
to
give
him
strength
to
say
and
do
all
that
needed
to
be
said
and
done
.
He
clenched
his
nerves
,
as
though
the
pain
of
his
bruised
feet
would
grow
less
by
being
despised
,
and
he
walked
on
.
But
when
he
reached
the
turn
in
the
road
that
brought
the
mill
in
sight
his
mood
altered
again
,
and
almost
before
he
knew
that
his
intention
had
changed
he
found
himself
limping
painfully
down
the
stone
steps
into
the
little
hollow
.
As
he
caught
sight
of
the
door
where
Litvinoff
had
stood
on
the
night
of
the
fire
he
muttered
a
curse
on
the
man
who
had
stood
between
the
'
hands
'
and
their
purpose
that
night
.
He
felt
faint
and
giddy
.
The
many
square
windows
of
the
mill
seemed
to
look
on
him
like
eyes
,
and
the
broken
panes
in
them
lent
them
a
sinister
expression
.
The
few
past
months
had
changed
the
face
of
the
mill
wonderfully
.
No
one
had
repaired
the
damage
done
by
the
rioters
,
and
the
wind
and
rain
had
had
their
will
of
the
place
.
It
looked
now
,
Hatfield
thought
,
as
though
it
had
been
deserted
for
years
instead
of
months
.
Everything
was
deadly
still
.
The
only
sounds
were
the
trickling
of
the
stream
as
it
flowed
past
,
and
his
own
heavy
breathing
.
He
was
becoming
unaccountably
sleepy
.
Why
should
he
not
sleep
here
?
He
would
go
on
to
Thornsett
in
the
morning
.
He
stumbled
downward
till
he
reached
the
wall
of
the
mill
.
He
soon
found
a
window
that
could
be
unfastened
by
passing
his
hand
through
one
of
its
broken
panes
and
turning
round
the
primitive
hasp
.
It
was
rusty
,
and
moved
,
as
it
were
,
reluctantly
.
Still
,
it
did
move
,
and
he
opened
the
window
and
crept
through
it
.
He
found
himself
on
the
edge
of
a
huge
stone
tank
,
or
vat
.
One
more
forward
movement
and
he
would
have
been
plunged
in
the
dark-looking
water
that
half
filled
it
.
He
shuddered
.
How
could
he
have
been
such
a
fool
as
to
forget
the
position
of
that
tank
?
He
crept
round
the
edge
of
it
,
and
reached
the
stone-paved
floor
of
the
basement
.
There
lay
a
mass
of
something
dark
.
It
was
the
great
stone
that
had
thundered
through
the
roof
of
the
mill
just
after
young
Roland
Ferrier
had
given
the
deputation
their
answer
.
Hatfield
looked
up
at
the
ugly
hole
in
the
ceiling
,
a
hole
that
repeated
itself
in
the
two
upper
floors
and
the
roof
,
through
which
he
could
see
the
sky
.
The
moon
was
shining
brightly
by
this
time
,
and
the
many-windowed
building
was
lighted
well
enough
for
the
man
to
find
his
way
about
.
Had
it
been
dark
,
he
thought
he
should
not
have
had
much
difficulty
.
He
went
up
the
stairs
,
and
made
his
way
to
a
room
on
the
second
storey
,
where
he
fancied
there
would
be
some
soft
rubbish
he
could
lie
down
on
.
He
was
not
disappointed
,
and
,
yielding
to
the
utter
weariness
that
had
come
to
him
,
he
lay
down
,
and
in
a
moment
slept
.
He
had
not
been
asleep
three
minutes
when
he
awoke
with
a
start
to
find
himself
sitting
up
and
listening
.
What
had
he
heard
?
The
click
of
a
door
and
a
footstep
.
He
was
widely
,
nervously
,
intensely
awake
now
.
Had
it
been
fancy
,
born
of
the
utter
desolation
and
loneliness
of
the
place
where
he
was
?
He
listened
strainedly
.
No.
This
at
least
was
no
fancy
.
There
was
a
footstep
resounding
hollowly
through
the
great
empty
rooms
.
Some
watcher
,
perhaps
,
from
whom
he
ought
to
keep
himself
hidden
if
he
did
not
want
to
be
handed
over
to
the
constable
as
a
vagrant
.
What
an
ending
,
that
,
to
his
journey
!
Yes
,
he
must
lie
quiet
,
and
yet
,
how
could
he
?
Suppose
—
and
at
the
thought
his
blood
ran
coldly
through
his
veins
—
suppose
old
Richard
Ferrier
had
got
up
from
under
that
white
stone
in
Thornsett
churchyard
,
and
had
come
down
to
keep
watch
over
what
his
sons
had
so
little
regarded
.
The
footsteps
came
nearer
,
and
Hatfield
sprang
to
his
feet
and
walked
not
away
from
,
but
towards
,
the
sound
.
The
impulse
of
a
naturally
brave
man
when
he
is
frightened
is
to
face
the
fearsome
thing
as
speedily
as
may
be
.
Hatfield
opened
the
door
.
Then
he
sprang
forward
,
for
he
saw
no
ghost
,
but
,
as
it
seemed
to
him
,
the
object
of
his
search
—
not
old
Richard
,
but
young
Roland
,
standing
with
his
back
to
him
.
The
bright
moonlight
lighting
up
the
figure
left
no
room
in
his
mind
for
a
doubt
.
At
the
sight
,
all
his
ideas
of
asking
for
explanation
vanished
in
an
instant
,
and
left
him
with
no
impulse
but
to
catch
the
young
man
by
the
throat
and
to
squeeze
the
life
out
of
him
.
As
the
other
turned
at
the
sound
of
the
opening
door
he
gave
a
cry
of
horror
at
the
sight
of
the
wild
,
haggard
figure
springing
at
him
—
the
white
,
angry
,
maddened
face
close
to
his
own
.
'
Keep
back
!
'
he
almost
screamed
,
as
Hatfield
rushed
upon
him
,
but
even
as
he
spoke
the
man
's
hands
fastened
on
his
throat
,
and
the
two
closed
in
a
silent
,
deadly
struggle
.
They
had
hardly
grasped
each
other
when
both
remembered
the
danger
that
lay
behind
them
—
that
black
gap
in
the
floor
—
and
each
tried
to
edge
away
from
it
without
loosening
his
hold
.
Too
late
,
though
.
The
strain
of
the
strong
men
wrestling
was
too
much
for
the
splintered
boards
already
rotted
through
by
the
rain
and
snow
of
the
past
months
.
Crash
went
the
flooring
beneath
their
feet
,
and
as
the
two
went
through
,
fast
locked
in
each
other
's
arms
,
Hatfield
,
above
his
adversary
,
saw
,
in
a
flash
of
intensest
horror
,
that
the
face
below
him
was
not
that
of
Roland
,
but
of
Richard
.
It
was
the
last
thing
he
ever
saw
in
this
world
.
In
another
moment
he
was
lying
,
a
dead
man
,
at
the
bottom
of
the
great
tank
.
Again
the
stillness
of
the
empty
mill
was
undisturbed
,
and
the
only
movement
in
it
was
that
of
the
heavy-coloured
water
as
it
settled
down
again
into
stagnation
over
him
.
Roland
went
to
bed
that
night
without
troubling
himself
much
about
his
brother
.
He
had
been
deeply
wronged
,
and
he
was
a
man
who
,
not
easily
offended
,
was
,
when
once
alienated
,
implacable
.
He
did
not
find
it
easy
to
forgive
.
Though
he
had
shaken
hands
with
his
brother
he
had
not
forgiven
him
,
and
he
came
down
to
breakfast
the
next
morning
quite
prepared
to
keep
up
his
rôle
of
injured
innocence
,
and
to
prevent
his
brother
from
experiencing
much
satisfaction
in
the
reconciliation
.
Richard
had
always
been
an
early
riser
,
and
Roland
quite
expected
to
find
him
in
the
dining-room
waiting
,
but
he
was
not
there
.
He
waited
some
little
time
,
and
then
desired
Mrs
Brock
to
see
if
Mr
Ferrier
was
in
his
room
,
and
it
was
not
till
she
returned
with
the
intelligence
that
he
was
not
and
that
his
bed
had
not
been
slept
in
,
that
Roland
began
to
wonder
in
anxious
earnest
where
his
brother
could
be
.
A
very
short
search
showed
that
he
was
not
in
the
house
or
grounds
.
Could
he
have
gone
to
the
churchyard
?
No
,
thought
Roland
;
Dick
was
n't
that
sort
of
fellow
.
Perhaps
he
had
gone
over
to
Gates
,
and
had
stayed
all
night
.
In
a
very
short
time
Roland
was
at
The
Hollies
questioning
eagerly
,
and
,
with
an
inexplicable
feeling
of
dread
and
anxiety
growing
stronger
upon
him
with
each
moment
,
he
learned
that
Dick
had
not
been
there
.
He
would
go
down
to
the
village
,
and
Mr
Gates
volunteered
to
come
with
him
,
though
he
laughed
cheerfully
at
the
idea
of
there
being
anything
to
worry
about
in
Dick
's
non-appearance
.
'
He
's
playing
off
some
trick
on
you
,
'
he
said
.
'
However
,
come
along
,
and
we
'll
soon
find
him
.
'
So
they
walked
together
towards
the
village
.
'
Hullo
,
'
said
Mr
Gates
,
as
they
passed
the
mill
,
'
that
door
's
no
business
open
!
Perhaps
Dick
's
up
to
some
games
in
there
.
'
The
door
he
pointed
at
was
one
opening
from
the
mill
on
to
a
flight
of
stone
steps
that
ran
sideways
outside
the
building
from
the
second
storey
to
the
ground
.
'
Whether
he
's
there
or
not
,
'
the
lawyer
went
on
,
'
some
one
has
been
there
,
and
we
'd
better
see
who
it
is
.
'
So
they
went
down
,
and
,
crossing
the
courtyard
,
between
whose
stones
the
grass
was
springing
already
,
ran
up
the
steps
and
passed
through
the
open
door
.
The
whole
place
was
flooded
with
the
brilliant
morning
sunlight
.
The
two
made
a
few
steps
forward
.
They
saw
the
hole
in
the
floor
,
and
paused
.
Then
Roland
's
heart
seemed
to
stand
still
,
for
he
saw
on
the
board
at
the
edge
of
the
gap
a
hat
,
and
his
brother
's
silver-headed
walking
stick
,
and
he
knew
what
had
happened
.
With
an
exceeding
bitter
cry
he
turned
from
Gates
and
sprang
down
an
inner
staircase
,
glancing
at
each
floor
as
he
passed
it
,
and
on
the
stones
at
the
bottom
he
found
what
he
sought
—
Dick
.
Or
was
it
Dick
?
Could
this
mangled
,
twisted
,
bloody
mass
be
his
brother
?
The
pitiless
light
came
through
the
cobwebbed
windows
,
and
showed
plainly
enough
that
it
was
Dick
,
or
Dick
's
body
.
'
Run
for
Bailey
,
'
he
shouted
to
Gates
,
who
had
followed
him
;
and
he
went
.
Then
Roland
lifted
Richard
's
head
.
Was
he
alive
?
Yes
.
At
the
movement
a
spasm
of
agony
contracted
his
face
,
and
his
eyes
opened
.
A
look
of
relief
came
into
them
when
he
saw
his
brother
.
'
Do
n't
move
me
,
old
man
,
'
he
whispered
;
and
the
other
knelt
beside
him
,
his
arms
under
the
poor
head
.
He
could
not
speak
,
for
he
saw
that
his
brother
was
dying
.
After
a
moment
Richard
spoke
again
,
very
faintly
.
'
I
'm
glad
you
've
come
.
'
He
could
only
say
a
few
words
at
a
time
,
and
between
the
sentences
came
long
pauses
,
in
each
of
which
Roland
fancied
the
last
silence
had
come
.
'
I
wanted
you
,
old
fellow
.
It
's
nearly
over
now
.
It
's
been
like
hell
lying
here
.
I
know
he
's
somewhere
near
,
and
I
could
n't
help
him
.
It
was
Hatfield
,
and
he
mistook
me
for
you
.
It
was
through
me
he
believed
you
had
wronged
Alice
.
He
was
hiding
here
,
and
attacked
me
.
We
struggled
and
fell
.
I
'm
afraid
he
's
dead
.
You
'll
see
presently
.
'
Then
came
a
longer
pause
than
any
that
had
gone
before
,
and
still
Roland
could
not
speak
.
Gates
had
sent
down
a
man
from
the
cottage
above
,
but
when
he
came
Richard
made
impatient
signs
,
and
he
went
and
stood
outside
.
'
You
did
n't
care
about
making
it
up
,
Rowley
;
but
it
's
all
right
between
us
now
,
is
n't
it
?
'
Roland
's
tears
were
falling
over
his
brother
's
face
.
'
Oh
,
Dick
,
Dick
,
Dick
!
'
He
could
say
nothing
else
.
'
It
's
hard
lines
,
'
Richard
said
;
'
but
it
's
all
my
own
fault
.
Never
mind
,
old
chap
.
Water
!
'
Roland
called
to
the
labourer
,
and
when
the
water
had
been
brought
Dick
seemed
to
gather
his
strength
together
.
'
Since
I
've
been
lying
here
,
I
've
wished
I
could
believe
I
was
going
to
see
father
again
,
and
I
half
believe
it
's
possible
.
I
should
n't
care
if
I
was
going
to
the
old
dad
again
.
'
'
Oh
,
Dick
!
Can
I
do
nothing
for
you
?
'
'
No
,
old
chap
;
only
tell
her
I
sent
her
my
love
.
She
has
it
,
and
she
wo
n't
mind
now
.
'
Then
he
lay
silent
,
with
closed
eyes
.
Presently
he
made
a
movement
.
Roland
interpreted
it
,
and
kissed
his
face
.
'
I
'm
going
,
old
man
!
'
he
said
.
'
Good-bye
.
Clare
!
Clare
!
Clare
!
'
He
murmured
her
name
over
and
over
again
,
more
and
more
faintly
.
Roland
put
the
water
to
his
lips
again
,
but
it
was
too
late
.
He
had
drunk
of
the
Nepenthe
of
Death
.
BACK
FROM
THE
DEAD
THE
Clare
Stanley
who
studied
Bakounin
and
quoted
Matthew
Arnold
was
a
very
different
girl
from
the
Clare
Stanley
who
had
in
the
autumn
entertained
the
reprehensible
idea
of
bringing
to
her
feet
the
interesting
stranger
at
Morley
's
Hotel
.
In
looking
back
on
that
time
,
which
she
did
with
hot
cheeks
and
uncomfortable
self-condemnation
,
it
really
seemed
to
her
that
she
had
changed
into
another
being
—
development
,
when
it
is
rapid
,
being
always
bewildering
.
It
would
be
interesting
to
know
with
what
emotions
the
rose
remembers
being
a
green
bud
.
Pleasanter
ones
perhaps
than
those
of
the
woman
whose
new
earnest
sense
of
the
intense
seriousness
of
life
leads
her
to
look
back
—
not
with
indulgent
eyes
—
on
the
follies
of
her
unawakened
girlhood
.
The
story
of
the
sleeping
beauty
is
an
allegory
with
a
very
real
meaning
.
Every
woman
's
mind
has
its
time
of
slumber
,
when
the
creed
of
the
day
is
truth
and
the
convention
of
the
day
is
morality
.
The
fairy
prince
's
awakening
kiss
may
come
in
the
pages
of
a
book
,
in
the
words
of
a
speaker
,
through
love
,
through
suffering
,
through
sorrow
,
through
a
thousand
things
glad
or
sad
,
and
to
some
it
never
comes
,
and
that
is
the
saddest
thing
of
all
.
Clare
had
slept
,
and
now
was
well
awake
,
and
it
was
no
word
of
Count
Litvinoff
's
that
had
broken
the
slumbrous
spell
.
Sometimes
she
almost
wished
it
had
been
,
for
she
could
not
conceal
from
herself
the
fact
that
she
had
succeeded
in
doing
what
she
had
desired
to
do
,
and
that
Count
Litvinoff
was
at
her
feet
.
The
position
became
him
,
certainly
,
but
she
felt
a
perverse
objection
to
being
placed
on
a
pedestal
,
and
a
new
conviction
that
she
would
rather
look
up
to
a
lover
than
down
at
one
.
And
yet
why
should
she
look
down
on
him
?
He
was
cleverer
than
she
,
with
a
larger
knowledge
of
life
—
had
done
incomparably
more
for
the
cause
she
had
espoused
.
He
was
brave
,
handsome
,
and
,
to
some
extent
,
a
martyr
,
and
he
loved
her
,
or
she
thought
so
,
which
came
to
the
same
thing
.
Verily
,
a
man
with
all
these
qualifications
was
hardly
the
sort
of
lover
for
a
girl
under
the
twenties
to
look
down
upon
.
But
could
she
help
looking
down
on
him
,
for
was
he
not
at
her
feet
?
And
that
was
not
the
place
,
she
thought
,
for
a
man
who
had
drawn
the
sword
in
such
a
war
as
she
and
he
had
entered
upon
.
What
right
had
a
man
who
had
taken
up
arms
in
that
cause
to
lay
them
down
,
even
at
her
feet
?
No
,
no.
Her
lover
,
if
she
had
one
,
must
be
at
her
side
—
not
there
.
This
reaction
to
the
Count
's
detriment
had
set
in
on
New
Year
's
Day
,
when
he
had
told
her
that
he
held
no
cause
sacred
enough
to
give
her
even
inconvenience
for
the
sake
of
it
,
and
the
tide
was
still
ebbing
.
Litvinoff
appeared
quite
unconscious
of
that
fact
though
,
for
he
continued
to
call
on
Mrs
Quaid
with
a
persistence
which
quite
justified
all
Cora
's
animadversions
.
Miss
Quaid
's
penetration
was
at
fault
,
but
the
Count
's
was
not
.
He
was
perfectly
conscious
of
the
change
in
her
state
of
mind
,
and
knew
that
his
chance
of
being
master
of
the
Stanley
money-bags
was
far
less
than
he
had
thought
shortly
after
their
late
master
's
death
.
Suspense
was
the
one
thing
Count
Litvinoff
could
not
bear
—
at
least
,
he
could
bear
it
when
the
balance
of
probabilities
was
in
his
favour
;
but
when
the
chances
did
not
seem
to
be
on
his
side
—
no.
He
knew
perfectly
well
that
it
is
hardly
'
correct
'
to
ask
a
girl
to
marry
one
three
months
after
her
father
's
death
;
but
he
was
not
an
enthusiastic
devotee
of
'
correctness
.
'
He
habitually
posed
as
a
despiser
of
conventions
,
and
this
attitude
very
often
stood
him
in
good
stead
,
even
with
people
who
preferred
the
stereotyped
rôles
of
life
for
themselves
.
Avowed
unconventionality
serves
as
a
splendid
excuse
for
doing
all
sorts
of
pleasant
things
which
conventional
people
dare
n't
do
;
hence
perhaps
its
growing
popularity
.
'
He
either
fears
his
fate
too
much
,
Or
his
deserts
are
small
,
Who
dares
not
put
it
to
the
touch
,
To
gain
or
lose
it
all
.
'
The
lines
ran
in
Count
Litvinoff
's
head
persistently
one
spring
morning
while
he
sat
at
his
late
breakfast
.
As
he
despatched
his
last
mouthful
of
grilled
sardine
and
looked
round
for
the
marmalade
,
the
servant
came
in
with
a
letter
.
'
It
really
is
time
I
struck
for
fortune
.
I
do
hope
this
is
not
a
bill
,
'
he
said
to
himself
as
he
took
it
.
'
I
retrench
and
retrench
,
and
still
they
come
.
'
He
tore
it
open
.
It
was
not
a
bill
.
It
ran
thus
:
—
'
I
shall
call
upon
you
between
four
and
five
this
afternoon
;
I
wish
to
see
you
on
an
important
matter
.
—
Petrovitch
.
'
'
The
mysterious
stranger
does
n't
waste
his
words
.
He
's
almost
as
careful
of
them
as
the
fellow
with
the
dirty
collar
—
Bursch
,
or
Kirsch
,
or
Hirsch
,
or
whatever
it
was
.
The
best
of
being
mixed
up
with
the
revolutionary
party
is
that
such
beautifully
unexpected
things
are
always
befalling
one
.
I
wonder
why
he
could
n't
have
waited
till
to-morrow
night
.
It
lends
a
spice
to
an
important
matter
to
discuss
it
at
forbidden
times
and
in
a
secret
manner
at
the
houses
of
friends
.
That
's
another
of
our
characteristics
—
to
plot
when
we
're
supposed
to
be
talking
frivol
only
,
and
to
play
cards
or
go
to
sleep
when
we
're
supposed
to
be
plotting
.
Wonder
what
the
important
matter
is
.
The
distressed
lady
friend
again
,
perhaps
.
Well
,
before
I
commit
myself
on
that
matter
,
I
'd
better
settle
things
one
way
or
the
other
with
la
belle
Clare
.
Upon
my
soul
,
I
do
n't
much
care
which
way
they
are
settled
.
If
I
'm
not
to
shine
as
the
county
magnate
and
the
married
man
at
Aspinshaw
,
by
Heaven
,
I
'll
find
out
my
own
little
girl
,
and
go
in
for
virtuous
retirement
in
the
Quartier
Latin
.
When
I
do
swallow
my
principles
they
go
down
whole
,
like
oysters
;
and
if
Miss
Stanley
does
n't
care
to
add
the
title
of
"
countess
"
to
her
other
endowments
,
some
one
will
be
glad
to
take
that
and
me
,
even
with
nothing
a
year
to
keep
state
upon
.
'
He
pushed
his
chair
back
,
and
sat
biting
his
moustache
irresolutely
,
and
frowning
heavily
at
the
breakfast-table
.
'
Yes
,
'
he
said
at
last
,
rising
;
'
I
'll
have
a
shot
for
it
now
,
as
I
've
gone
so
far
,
and
I
'll
shoot
as
straight
and
as
steady
as
I
can
.
As
for
the
other
matter
—
well
,
Aspinshaw
and
the
fruits
thereof
would
not
be
a
bad
drug
for
inconvenient
memories
.
I
wonder
if
this
is
one
of
my
good-looking
days
?
'
he
added
,
moving
towards
the
looking-glass
,
and
scrutinising
his
reflection
therein
.
He
seemed
satisfied
,
lighted
the
inevitable
cigarette
,
and
half
an
hour
after
noon
was
in
Mrs
Quaid
's
library
,
alone
with
Clare
Stanley
.
Mrs
Quaid
,
he
had
known
,
would
be
absent
on
some
educational
errand
,
and
Cora
would
be
at
the
National
Gallery
.
He
knew
that
Miss
Stanley
was
not
averse
to
a
quiet
morning
spent
in
uninterrupted
reading
and
copying
,
and
he
had
rightly
thought
that
he
should
have
a
very
fair
chance
of
finding
her
alone
.
The
resolution
of
his
,
which
had
faltered
before
the
remembrance
of
that
other
face
,
grew
strong
again
as
he
saw
her
,
for
she
looked
charming
,
and
it
was
not
in
his
nature
to
be
indifferent
to
the
charms
of
any
woman
,
even
if
she
were
not
the
woman
.
Miss
Stanley
had
been
making
notes
in
a
MS.
book
,
and
Litvinoff
noticed
with
a
feeling
not
altogether
pleasurable
that
'
The
Prophetic
Vision
'
and
the
'
Ethics
of
Revolution
'
both
lay
open
on
the
writing-table
,
and
that
she
seemed
to
have
been
comparing
them
one
with
the
other
.
'
I
am
afraid
you
will
hate
me
for
interrupting
your
studies
,
'
he
began
,
apparently
ignorant
of
the
direction
those
studies
had
been
taking
,
'
but
when
the
servant
told
me
you
were
alone
in
the
library
,
I
could
not
resist
the
temptation
of
coming
in
.
'
'
I
do
n't
at
all
mind
being
interrupted
,
'
she
answered
,
when
he
had
settled
himself
down
in
a
chair
opposite
to
her
with
the
air
of
a
man
who
,
having
come
in
,
meant
to
stay
.
'
I
was
just
looking
through
two
of
your
books
.
One
of
them
,
indeed
,
I
almost
know
by
heart
.
'
'
And
that
is
?
'
—
carelessly
,
as
one
who
is
sure
of
the
answer
—
'
"
The
Prophetic
Vision
.
"
'
Somehow
Count
Litvinoff
did
not
look
delighted
.
Perhaps
he
wanted
to
talk
about
something
else
.
'
But
,
oh
,
'
she
went
on
,
'
what
a
long
way
off
it
all
seems
!
'
'
Yes
,
it
does
;
I
was
an
enthusiastic
young
rebel
when
I
first
put
on
the
Prophet
's
Mantle
.
'
Then
,
as
a
faint
change
in
her
face
showed
him
that
he
had
made
a
false
move
,
he
hastened
to
add
,
'
But
it
will
all
happen
some
day
,
you
know
.
It
is
a
true
vision
,
but
knocking
about
in
the
world
has
taught
me
that
the
immediately
practicable
is
the
thing
to
aim
for
.
'
'
Oh
,
no
,
no
,
no
,
'
she
said
.
'
Never
let
us
lower
our
standard
.
We
shall
not
do
less
noble
work
in
the
present
for
having
the
noblest
of
all
goals
before
us
.
'
Then
she
looked
at
him
,
at
his
handsome
,
insouciant
face
,
at
the
half-cynical
droop
of
his
mouth
,
at
the
look
in
his
eyes
—
the
sort
of
look
an
old
cardinal
who
knew
the
Church
and
the
world
might
turn
on
an
enthusiastic
young
monk
—
and
she
felt
a
sudden
regret
for
that
heart-warm
speech
of
hers
.
What
had
she
in
common
with
this
perfectly-dressed
,
orchid-button-holed
young
man
?
Why
should
she
expect
him
to
understand
her
?
And
yet
had
he
not
written
"
The
Prophetic
Vision
"
?
She
went
on
,
smiling
a
little
,
—
'
You
must
make
allowances
for
the
hopeful
faith
of
a
new
convert
.
Perhaps
when
I
've
held
my
new
belief
a
little
longer
I
shall
be
less
en
l'air
.
But
I
must
say
I
hope
not
.
'
'
Your
new
beliefs
make
you
very
happy
,
then
?
'
'
They
make
me
want
very
much
to
live
to
see
what
will
happen
.
It
would
be
terrible
to
die
now
before
anything
is
accomplished
.
You
see
,
I
ca
n't
help
believing
that
we
shall
accomplish
something
,
although
I
know
you
think
me
very
high-flown
and
absurd
.
'
'
You
know
I
think
you
perfect
,
'
he
said
,
in
a
very
low
voice
,
and
went
on
hurriedly
:
'
But
,
for
Heaven
's
sake
,
do
n't
talk
about
dying
;
the
idea
is
too
horrible
.
Ca
n't
you
guess
why
I
have
seemed
not
sympathetic
with
your
new
religion
?
I
have
known
what
it
is
to
believe
strongly
,
to
work
unceasingly
,
never
to
leave
off
hoping
,
and
trying
to
show
others
my
hope
.
I
have
known
what
it
is
to
have
no
life
but
the
life
of
the
cause
;
to
go
through
year
after
year
still
hoping
and
striving
.
I
have
known
all
this
,
and
more
.
I
have
known
the
heart-sickness
of
waiting
for
a
dawn
that
never
comes
.
I
know
how
one
may
strain
every
nerve
,
tax
every
power
,
kill
one
's
body
,
wear
out
one
's
brain
,
break
one
's
heart
against
the
iron
of
things
as
they
are
,
and
when
all
is
sacrificed
,
all
is
gone
,
all
is
suffered
,
have
achieved
nothing
.
It
is
from
this
I
would
save
you
.
That
you
should
suffer
is
a
worse
evil
than
any
your
suffering
could
remedy
.
The
cause
will
have
martyrs
enough
without
you
.
'
'
Martyrs
,
yes
;
but
how
can
it
have
too
many
workers
?
'
she
asked
,
not
looking
at
him
.
'
To
be
a
worker
is
to
be
a
martyr
,
'
he
answered
,
rising
and
standing
near
her
;
'
and
that
is
the
reason
why
you
are
the
only
convert
I
have
never
rejoiced
over
.
'
'
I
do
n't
know
,
'
she
was
beginning
when
he
interrupted
her
.
'
Do
n't
say
that
,
'
he
said
.
'
Do
n't
say
you
do
n't
know
why
I
ca
n't
endure
the
thought
of
your
ever
knowing
anything
but
peace
and
happiness
.
You
know
it
is
because
I
love
you
,
and
my
love
for
you
has
eaten
up
all
my
other
loves
.
Freedom
,
the
Revolution
,
my
country
,
my
own
ambition
,
are
all
nothing
to
me
.
But
if
you
care
for
the
cause
I
can
still
work
in
it
,
and
with
a
thousand
times
more
enthusiasm
than
it
ever
inspired
me
with
before
,
for
you
.
That
can
be
your
way
of
helping
it
.
Use
me
as
your
instrument
.
Make
any
use
you
will
of
me
,
if
only
you
are
safe
and
happy
,
and
mine
.
'
His
voice
was
low
with
the
passion
which
for
the
moment
thrilling
through
him
made
him
quite
believe
his
own
words
.
Clare
had
listened
silently
,
her
eyes
cast
down
,
and
her
nervous
fingers
diligently
tearing
an
envelope
into
little
bits
,
and
when
he
had
ended
she
still
did
not
speak
,
but
her
breath
came
and
went
quickly
.
'
You
,
'
he
was
beginning
again
,
when
she
stretched
out
her
hand
to
silence
him
.
'
No
,
no
,
'
she
said
;
'
do
n't
say
any
more
—
I
ca
n't
bear
it
.
'
'
Does
that
mean
that
you
care
?
'
'
It
means
that
this
seems
the
most
terrible
thing
that
could
have
happened
to
me
.
That
it
should
be
through
me
that
you
give
up
the
right
.
'
'
But
through
you
,
for
you
,
I
will
become
anything
you
choose
.
'
'
And
that
is
the
worst
of
all
,
'
she
said
,
with
very
real
distress
.
'
I
can
ask
you
to
do
nothing
for
my
sake
.
'
'
You
cannot
love
me
,
then
?
'
he
asked
,
as
earnestly
as
though
his
happiness
hung
on
her
answer
.
'
No
,
'
she
said
steadily
,
'
I
cannot
love
you
.
I
am
very
,
very
sorry
—
'
'
Spare
me
your
pity
,
at
least
,
'
he
said
.
'
But
one
thing
I
must
ask
.
Why
did
you
let
me
see
you
again
after
New
Year
's
Day
?
For
I
told
you
the
same
thing
then
,
and
you
knew
then
that
I
loved
you
.
'
It
was
true
—
but
Clare
hated
him
for
saying
it
.
'
I
have
changed
so
much
since
then
,
'
she
said
slowly
.
Several
things
both
bitter
and
true
rose
to
his
lips
.
He
did
not
give
them
voice
,
however
.
He
had
never
in
his
life
said
an
unkind
thing
to
a
woman
.
It
occurred
to
him
that
he
was
accepting
his
defeat
rather
easily
,
and
he
looked
at
her
to
measure
the
chances
for
and
against
the
possible
success
of
another
appeal
.
But
in
her
face
was
a
decision
against
which
he
knew
there
could
be
no
appeal
.
He
felt
angry
with
her
for
refusing
him
—
angry
and
unreasonably
surprised
;
and
then
,
in
one
of
the
flashes
of
light
that
made
it
so
hard
for
him
to
understand
himself
,
he
saw
that
if
she
was
to
blame
for
refusing
his
love
,
he
was
ten
thousand
times
more
to
blame
for
having
sought
hers
,
and
this
truth
brought
others
with
it
.
His
real
feeling
,
he
knew
,
was
not
anger
but
relief
.
He
made
a
step
forward
.
'
You
are
right
,
'
he
said
.
'
I
congratulate
you
on
your
decision
.
You
were
talking
of
dying
just
now
.
You
will
live
long
enough
to
know
how
much
congratulation
you
merit
for
having
to-day
refused
to
give
yourself
to
a
traitor
and
a
villain
.
'
'
A
traitor
—
no
,
no
,
'
she
said
,
holding
out
her
hand
.
'
No
,
'
he
said
,
'
I
am
not
worthy
.
Some
day
you
will
know
that
I
ought
never
to
have
touched
that
hand
of
yours
.
Good-bye
.
'
And
the
door
shut
behind
him
,
and
Clare
was
left
standing
in
the
middle
of
the
room
with
her
eyes
widely
opened
,
and
her
hand
still
outstretched
.
She
stood
there
till
she
heard
the
front
door
closed
,
and
then
sank
into
a
chair
.
She
did
n't
want
to
go
on
making
notes
about
'
The
Prophetic
Vision
'
any
more
.
The
interview
had
not
been
a
pleasant
one
,
and
it
was
not
pleasant
to
think
over
.
One
of
the
least
pleasant
things
in
this
world
is
a
granted
wish
,
granted
after
it
has
ceased
to
be
wished
.
And
Clare
could
not
forget
that
she
had
desired
to
win
this
man
's
admiration
,
at
least
.
She
could
not
forget
that
he
had
saved
her
father
's
life
—
that
he
had
been
the
first
to
speak
to
her
of
many
things
once
unknown
or
unconsidered
,
but
now
a
part
of
her
very
life
—
and
she
could
not
forget
that
when
she
had
first
thought
of
the
possibility
of
his
asking
her
to
marry
him
she
had
not
meant
to
refuse
him
.
There
had
been
much
about
him
to
attract
her
,
and
if
she
had
never
met
Petrovitch
she
might
have
given
Litvinoff
,
even
now
,
a
different
answer
.
But
in
Petrovitch
she
found
all
the
qualities
that
had
fascinated
her
in
Litvinoff
,
and
all
on
a
larger
scale
,
and
with
a
finer
development
.
Litvinoff
now
seemed
to
her
like
a
dissolving
view
of
Petrovitch
seen
through
the
wrong
end
of
a
telescope
.
He
lacked
the
definiteness
of
outline
,
the
depth
of
tone
,
the
intense
reality
of
the
other
man
.
Perhaps
he
seemed
more
brilliant
and
dashing
;
but
Hirsch
's
story
had
shown
what
Petrovitch
was
.
Added
to
all
this
was
one
significant
fact
.
She
had
admired
in
Litvinoff
one
quality
or
another
,
and
had
desired
to
attract
him
.
To
Petrovitch
she
herself
had
been
attracted
,
not
by
any
specific
quality
or
qualities
,
but
by
himself
—
by
the
man
as
he
was
—
and
this
attraction
grew
stronger
with
each
meeting
.
A
fortnight
had
now
passed
since
the
second
time
she
had
seen
him
,
and
somehow
or
other
she
had
seen
him
very
often
in
that
time
.
She
knew
well
enough
that
neither
Litvinoff
nor
Petrovitch
had
come
to
Marlborough
Villa
to
see
its
mistress
.
And
she
had
been
sufficiently
certain
about
the
Count
's
motives
for
his
visit
,
but
could
she
be
certain
about
the
motive
which
brought
the
elder
man
there
so
constantly
?
Of
any
effort
to
make
him
care
for
her
she
was
not
guilty
.
In
her
new
frame
of
mind
she
would
have
felt
any
such
attempt
to
be
degrading
,
alike
to
herself
and
to
him
.
And
though
she
knew
he
came
to
see
her
,
she
could
not
be
sure
why
he
came
.
Was
his
evident
interest
in
her
only
the
interest
of
an
apostle
in
a
convert
?
A
certain
humility
had
sprung
up
in
her
,
along
with
many
other
flowers
of
the
heart
,
and
she
did
not
admit
to
herself
that
there
was
a
chance
of
his
interest
being
of
another
nature
.
Only
,
she
thought
,
it
would
be
the
highest
honour
in
the
world
and
the
deepest
happiness
to
be
the
woman
whom
he
loved
.
Not
the
less
because
she
knew
well
enough
that
the
woman
he
loved
would
hold
the
second
place
in
his
heart
,
and
that
he
would
not
wish
to
hold
the
first
place
in
hers
.
That
,
for
both
of
them
,
must
be
filled
by
the
goddess
whom
Litvinoff
had
once
said
he
worshipped
,
and
whom
he
had
abjured
and
abandoned
for
her
sake
.
She
thought
of
this
without
a
single
thrill
of
gratified
pride
.
Miss
Stanley
sat
silent
for
half
an
hour
,
and
in
that
time
got
through
more
thinking
than
we
could
record
if
we
wrote
steadily
for
half
a
year
.
At
the
end
of
that
time
Miss
Quaid
came
home
.
'
I
hear
Count
Litvinoff
has
been
here
,
'
she
said
,
when
she
entered
the
study
.
'
What
is
it
to
be
?
Am
I
to
have
a
Countess
Litvinoff
for
a
friend
?
'
'
No
,
'
said
Clare
,
rising
and
shaking
off
her
reverie
;
I
shall
never
be
anything
to
Count
Litvinoff
.
'
Which
was
,
perhaps
,
a
too
hasty
conclusion
.
To
the
reader
who
has
followed
the
fortunes
of
Count
Litvinoff
so
far
we
need
hardly
mention
the
fact
that
as
soon
as
he
was
clear
of
Marlborough
Villa
he
pulled
out
his
cigar-case
.
It
had
always
been
a
favourite
theory
of
his
that
a
cigar
and
not
a
mill-pond
was
the
appropriate
sequel
to
an
unsuccessful
love
affair
.
Not
that
it
had
ever
occurred
to
him
as
even
remotely
possible
that
such
an
experience
could
ever
be
his
.
Here
it
was
,
however
,
and
he
had
one
of
those
opportunities
which
always
charm
the
thinker
—
that
of
being
able
to
apply
to
his
own
case
a
theory
invented
for
other
people
.
He
took
a
meditative
turn
round
Regent
's
Park
.
It
is
a
strange
fact
which
we
do
not
remember
to
have
seen
commented
on
by
any
other
writer
—
that
when
a
man
comes
away
from
an
interview
with
a
girl
to
whom
he
has
been
making
love
he
is
inevitably
driven
to
think
,
not
of
her
alone
,
but
also
of
one
,
two
,
three
or
more
of
the
other
girls
to
whom
he
has
from
time
to
time
made
love
in
the
remote
or
recent
past
.
Such
is
the
depravity
of
the
'
natural
man
'
that
these
thoughts
are
not
generally
sad
ones
.
But
Litvinoff
's
thoughts
were
genuinely
sad
.
He
had
said
to
Miss
Stanley
that
he
was
a
traitor
and
a
villain
,
and
it
had
not
been
said
for
dramatic
effect
.
He
meant
it
.
He
would
have
given
a
good
many
years
of
any
life
that
might
lie
before
him
to
undo
a
few
of
the
years
that
lay
behind
.
'
I
am
not
consistent
enough
for
a
villain
,
'
he
said
to
himself
.
'
I
have
failed
in
that
part
,
and
now
I
will
go
in
for
my
natural
rôle
of
a
fool
,
and
I
've
a
sort
of
idea
that
I
shall
get
on
better
.
And
the
first
thing
to
be
done
is
to
find
my
little
one
.
Fool
as
I
am
,
I
've
generally
been
able
to
do
anything
I
've
really
set
my
mind
on
.
The
reason
I
've
failed
in
my
"
deep-laid
schemes
"
has
been
that
I
did
n't
always
care
whether
I
won
or
not
.
I
can
be
in
the
same
mind
about
this
matter
,
however
,
for
a
long
enough
time
to
achieve
what
I
want
.
As
for
principles
,
they
bore
me
.
If
it
had
n't
been
for
my
principles
I
should
n't
have
got
into
half
this
trouble
.
What
shall
I
do
with
myself
till
my
mysterious
friend
turns
up
?
'
After
a
minute
's
hesitation
he
turned
into
the
Zoological
Gardens
,
where
he
spent
some
thought
on
the
wasting
of
an
hour
or
so
among
the
beasts
,
incurred
the
undying
hatred
of
an
alligator
by
stirring
him
up
with
the
ferule
of
his
stick
,
irritated
the
llama
to
the
point
of
expectoration
,
and
grossly
insulted
the
oldest
inhabitant
of
the
monkey-house
.
His
luncheon
was
a
bath
bun
and
a
glass
of
milk
.
'
A
fourpenny
luncheon
,
'
he
said
to
himself
,
'
is
the
first
step
in
the
path
of
virtue
.
'
At
half-past
three
he
got
back
to
his
lodgings
,
and
sat
down
with
the
resolution
of
going
thoroughly
into
his
financial
affairs
.
To
that
he
thought
he
would
devote
an
hour
or
two
,
and
in
the
evening
he
would
try
to
find
the
lost
clue
in
Spray
's
Buildings
.
This
looking
into
his
finances
struck
him
as
being
a
business-like
sort
of
thing
to
do
,
and
quite
in
harmony
with
his
present
frame
of
mind
.
He
was
soon
busy
at
his
light
writing-table
.
Presently
he
drew
from
a
drawer
his
banker
's
pass-book
,
made
bulky
with
cancelled
cheques
.
He
groaned
earnestly
.
'
Alas
!
'
he
said
to
himself
,
'
how
sadly
simple
and
easy
it
is
to
sign
one
's
name
on
this
nice
smooth
coloured
paper
.
I
suppose
it
's
best
to
check
these
off
—
bankers
'
clerks
are
so
dreadfully
careless
.
'
A
most
unfounded
statement
,
born
of
ignorance
of
business
,
and
a
desire
to
seem
to
himself
as
one
who
understood
it
.
Suddenly
he
started
,
and
singled
out
the
cheque
he
had
given
to
Hirsch
in
the
autumn
.
It
bore
on
it
,
as
endorsement
,
in
a
bold
,
free
handwriting
,
the
name
,
'
Michael
Petrovitch
.
'
'
Hola
!
'
he
said
;
'
a
namesake
of
mine
.
Stay
,
though
.
This
apostle
of
our
cause
does
not
keep
to
one
handwriting
.
'
He
walked
to
the
mantelpiece
,
and
taking
thence
the
letter
he
had
received
in
the
morning
,
he
compared
the
writing
.
'
H
'm
—
wonder
what
this
means
?
'
he
said
,
returning
to
his
seat
.
'
The
two
writings
are
not
the
same
,
and
yet
there
is
something
in
this
writing
on
the
cheque
which
I
seem
to
have
seen
before
.
We
'll
try
for
an
explanation
before
he
leaves
this
room
.
'
He
went
on
steadily
with
his
self-imposed
task
of
comparing
each
cheque
with
the
entry
in
the
book
.
He
had
half
done
them
when
a
ring
at
the
front
door
bell
made
him
look
up
.
'
Aha
!
the
mysterious
Petrovitch
is
punctual
,
'
he
said
to
himself
.
It
was
Petrovitch
,
though
perhaps
those
who
had
seen
most
of
him
in
the
last
few
months
would
have
failed
to
recognise
him
.
He
looked
at
least
ten
years
younger
.
The
handsome
long
light
beard
was
gone
,
and
he
was
close
shaved
save
for
a
heavy
drooping
blond
moustache
.
As
Count
Litvinoff
heard
his
visitor
's
steps
upon
the
stairs
he
settled
himself
back
in
his
chair
,
with
an
assumption
of
a
business
air
,
much
like
that
of
a
very
young
lawyer
about
to
receive
a
new
client
.
There
was
a
sharp
rap
at
the
room
door
.
'
Come
in
,
'
he
said
.
The
door
opened
.
He
sprang
to
his
feet
,
stood
one
moment
clutching
at
the
table
before
him
,
his
eyes
wide
with
something
that
seemed
almost
terror
,
and
his
whole
frame
rigid
with
astonishment
.
Then
his
expression
changed
to
one
of
deepest
love
and
delight
.
There
was
a
crash
of
furniture
,
as
he
flung
the
little
writing-table
from
him
,
and
it
fell
shattered
against
the
opposite
wall
.
With
a
hysterical
cry
of
'
Ah
,
ah
,
ah
,
Litvinoff
!
back
from
the
dead
!
'
he
sprang
across
the
room
,
threw
his
arms
round
the
other
's
neck
,
and
fell
sobbing
on
his
breast
.
TALKING
THINGS
OVER
BEFORE
the
echo
of
that
cry
had
died
away
,
the
man
who
had
uttered
it
swayed
sideways
,
his
face
grew
deadly
white
,
the
clasp
of
his
arms
loosened
,
and
only
the
sudden
firm
grip
of
the
other
saved
him
from
falling
.
Petrovitch
laid
him
on
the
sofa
.
Then
he
passed
into
the
adjoining
bedroom
,
and
came
back
with
a
wet
sponge
.
'
What
a
fellow
it
is
,
'
he
said
to
himself
,
as
he
applied
it
to
the
hands
and
face
of
the
insensible
man
.
'
As
brave
as
a
lion
,
and
as
hysterical
as
a
schoolgirl
.
'
But
he
looked
very
kindly
on
the
pale
face
as
he
administered
his
remedies
.
In
a
little
while
the
eyes
opened
,
and
the
younger
man
struggled
into
a
sitting
position
,
and
looked
into
the
face
that
bent
over
him
.
'
Litvinoff
,
it
is
you
,
then
?
'
he
said
in
a
low
voice
,
and
covered
his
face
with
his
hands
.
The
joy
of
seeing
once
more
the
man
he
had
loved
seemed
to
be
swallowed
up
in
the
shame
of
meeting
the
man
he
had
wronged
.
'
Yes
,
Percival
,
it
is
I
,
'
said
Petrovitch
;
'
but
let
this
be
the
last
time
you
call
me
Litvinoff
,
and
I
must
not
call
you
Percival
either
.
I
think
I
have
a
right
to
ask
that
.
You
have
chosen
to
put
on
the
Prophet
's
Mantle
,
and
for
all
our
sakes
you
must
wear
it
a
little
longer
.
'
'
What
do
you
mean
?
'
'
I
mean
simply
that
you
must
still
be
Count
Litvinoff
,
and
I
must
still
be
Petrovitch
.
'
'
Then
you
are
Petrovitch
!
Why
did
you
take
a
false
name
to
mislead
me
?
'
he
groaned
.
'
Why
did
you
let
me
go
on
wearing
your
name
,
and
spending
your
money
?
Why
not
have
let
me
know
at
once
,
when
every
day
made
things
worse
?
I
would
have
gone
out
of
life
long
ago
rather
than
face
this
meeting
.
'
'
And
yet
you
seemed
glad
to
see
me
,
too
?
'
said
Petrovitch
,
looking
at
him
curiously
.
'
But
I
took
no
false
name
;
my
name
is
really
Petrovitch
.
My
father
's
name
was
Peter
,
you
know
.
You
ought
to
remember
that
.
You
have
heard
me
called
by
it
often
enough
.
'
'
I
never
thought
of
you
by
it
,
though
;
and
besides
,
I
thought
you
were
dead
.
You
know
that
I
thought
you
were
dead
?
'
with
a
sudden
,
quick
doubt
in
his
voice
.
'
Of
course
!
'
'
You
know
,
do
n't
you
,
'
he
went
on
eagerly
,
'
that
I
would
gladly
have
given
my
life
for
yours
,
and
that
I
never
hoped
for
anything
so
good
in
this
world
as
to
see
you
alive
?
Yes
,
in
spite
of
everything
,
though
I
ca
n't
expect
you
to
believe
it
,
'
he
ended
bitterly
.
'
I
have
never
doubted
it
,
'
Petrovitch
answered
;
and
with
a
sudden
thrill
of
pity
for
the
despair
,
the
remorse
,
the
longing
,
and
the
wretchedness
in
the
other
's
face
,
he
added
,
'
Come
,
old
friend
,
do
n't
take
this
so
much
to
heart
.
It
is
nothing
that
cannot
be
put
right
.
You
will
see
when
we
come
to
talk
it
over
quietly
.
Ca
n't
we
have
some
tea
?
'
Petrovitch
knew
well
enough
that
when
the
heart
's
cords
are
stretched
almost
unbearably
by
the
strain
of
an
intense
emotion
,
it
sometimes
stems
as
though
they
could
only
be
saved
from
giving
way
altogether
by
the
direction
of
the
mind
to
some
utterly
trivial
detail
of
everyday
life
.
Many
a
woman
's
heart
has
been
saved
from
breaking
by
the
necessity
of
getting
the
children
's
dinner
,
and
many
a
tragedy
has
been
averted
by
the
chief
actor
's
having
to
take
in
the
afternoon
's
milk
.
Petrovitch
repeated
the
question
,
'
Ca
n't
we
have
some
tea
?
'
The
other
rose
mechanically
,
went
to
a
cupboard
,
and
brought
out
a
plated
kettle
and
spirit-lamp
,
a
small
china
tea
set
,
and
a
plate
of
lemons
,
with
a
silver
knife
.
He
put
these
appliances
on
the
table
in
an
unmethodical
,
untidy
sort
of
way
,
and
was
proceeding
to
light
the
spirit-lamp
,
when
Petrovitch
,
who
had
been
watching
him
with
a
smile
,
took
the
match-box
out
of
his
hand
.
'
Here
,
let
me
make
tea
.
I
see
you
are
just
as
unsystematic
as
ever
.
'
He
lighted
the
lamp
,
and
with
a
few
deft
touches
put
the
rest
of
the
tea-things
in
order
,
as
the
other
,
leaving
the
matter
in
his
hands
,
strode
up
and
down
the
room
.
'
Oh
,
what
is
to
be
the
end
of
all
this
?
'
he
said
at
length
;
'
how
long
am
I
to
go
on
bearing
your
name
?
'
'
All
this
will
soon
be
at
an
end
,
as
far
as
I
am
concerned
.
I
have
nearly
completed
my
arrangements
for
getting
back
to
Russia
,
and
when
I
'm
there
you
may
guess
it
wo
n't
matter
to
me
who
bears
my
name
.
I
shall
not
wish
to
use
it
.
But
while
I
am
here
I
wish
to
be
Petrovitch
.
Indeed
,
you
can
serve
me
best
by
letting
it
be
as
widely
known
as
possible
that
Count
Litvinoff
is
—
well
,
where
you
are
and
not
where
I
am
,
and
after
all
it
's
nobody
's
business
but
yours
and
mine
.
'
'
Does
no
one
else
know
of
it
at
all
?
'
'
Only
two
men
in
St
Petersburg
,
and
one
in
London
.
'
'
And
he
is
?
'
'
Hirsch
,
whom
you
've
seen
,
I
think
.
'
'
Why
the
devil
did
n't
he
tell
every
one
then
?
'
'
Because
I
asked
him
not
to
,
and
he
considers
himself
under
some
sort
of
obligation
to
me
.
'
'
Like
everyone
else
you
come
across
.
But
how
came
he
to
know
it
?
'
'
He
had
to
be
told
when
I
came
here
.
There
was
certain
work
I
had
to
do
;
I
can
tell
you
about
it
another
time
,
and
he
was
the
only
man
who
could
put
me
in
the
way
of
it
.
Now
Count
Litvinoff
,
the
tea
is
ready
.
'
The
other
stopped
in
his
walk
.
'
Curse
it
!
'
he
said
passionately
.
'
Call
me
a
villain
or
a
forger
,
or
any
other
pretty
name
you
like
;
I
can
stand
that
,
but
not
your
lips
calling
me
by
your
name
.
It
's
a
cruel
revenge
.
'
'
Ah
,
we
owe
too
much
to
our
enemies
for
there
to
be
any
thought
of
revenge
between
friends
,
and
I
must
teach
myself
to
call
you
that
.
Besides
,
what
is
there
to
revenge
?
You
have
only
used
the
name
I
did
not
need
.
'
'
No
,
I
forged
your
name
as
well
as
stole
it
.
You
do
n't
know
all
.
'
'
Yes
,
I
do
,
or
pretty
nearly
all
.
As
far
as
your
taking
my
name
goes
,
that
has
done
no
harm
;
rather
good
;
and
as
for
the
money
,
that
would
have
gone
to
you
.
You
know
,
if
I
had
had
the
giving
of
it
,
it
would
have
gone
to
you
.
And
I
know
you
would
never
have
touched
it
if
you
had
not
thought
I
was
dead
.
'
'
I
wish
I
had
never
left
you
,
though
I
did
think
it
,
and
at
the
mercy
of
those
curs
.
If
only
I
had
died
by
you
!
'
'
You
know
well
enough
our
rule
is
that
none
should
be
sacrificed
without
reason
.
Why
should
you
have
given
those
hounds
two
lives
instead
of
one
?
'
'
I
wish
I
had
died
that
night
under
the
orange
trees
at
Monte
Carlo
.
You
did
yourself
a
bad
turn
when
you
saved
my
life
.
I
have
done
no
good
with
it
.
I
have
only
weighted
myself
with
unpardonable
sins
.
'
'
As
far
as
I
am
concerned
,
'
Petrovitch
said
,
'
if
there
is
anything
to
forgive
,
it
is
freely
forgiven
—
freely
and
fully
;
and
now
let
us
shake
hands
after
your
English
fashion
,
and
of
forgiveness
let
us
talk
no
more
.
We
are
friends
,
and
between
such
it
is
no
question
of
pardon
.
And
there
are
many
other
things
we
must
speak
of
.
'
He
held
his
hand
out
,
and
the
younger
man
grasped
it
.
There
was
a
moment
's
pause
.
Then
,
—
'
Let
me
give
you
some
fresh
tea
—
that
is
cold
,
'
said
Petrovitch
cheerfully
,
pouring
out
another
cup
;
'
do
n't
you
want
to
hear
what
happened
to
me
after
I
was
killed
?
'
'
I
can
hardly
realise
yet
that
you
are
not
killed
.
'
'
Well
,
I
'll
tell
you
about
it
.
The
officer
of
that
troop
added
medicine
to
his
other
accomplishments
,
besides
which
he
was
a
distant
relation
of
my
mother
's
,
and
he
insisted
on
seeing
whether
I
could
not
be
conjured
back
to
life
.
I
believe
I
gave
them
a
good
deal
of
trouble
,
but
I
seem
to
be
a
die-hard
.
My
capture
was
kept
very
quiet
,
thanks
to
my
family
name
,
for
the
Government
did
n't
care
about
having
it
known
that
the
head
of
the
Litvinoffs
had
tried
to
atone
for
the
crimes
of
his
family
by
taking
the
side
of
the
people
.
My
wound
was
a
bad
one
,
and
even
now
troubles
me
sometimes
.
I
used
sometimes
almost
to
wish
it
had
settled
me
.
Fancy
being
in
prison
,
and
a
Russian
prison
,
with
a
wound
like
that
.
'
'
But
how
did
you
get
away
?
'
For
answer
Petrovitch
told
him
the
story
of
his
escape
as
he
had
told
it
to
Hirsch
and
to
his
other
friends
,
intentionally
making
the
recital
a
long
one
,
so
that
his
companion
might
have
time
to
get
used
to
the
new
situation
before
they
began
to
talk
of
the
future
.
'
And
now
,
'
he
said
,
when
he
had
ended
,
'
tell
me
how
it
fared
with
the
Secretary
.
'
'
I
hate
to
think
of
it
,
'
said
the
man
who
had
borne
the
Litvinoff
name
for
three
years
,
and
who
,
it
seemed
,
was
to
bear
it
a
little
while
longer
.
'
Whenever
I
think
of
that
night
,
I
see
nothing
but
your
face
—
dead
,
as
I
thought
—
turned
up
from
the
snow
in
the
hateful
dawn
.
Oh
,
my
friend
!
'
his
voice
faltered
,
and
he
held
his
hand
out
to
Petrovitch
again
.
After
a
pause
,
he
resumed
,
'
I
tried
all
I
knew
to
revive
you
,
but
you
were
as
cold
as
ice
,
and
your
heart
did
not
beat
.
I
stayed
by
you
a
long
,
long
time
.
It
did
not
occur
to
me
to
leave
you
,
but
at
last
,
in
a
flash
,
I
realised
that
you
were
gone
—
that
I
was
there
in
the
snow
alone
.
And
then
I
thought
of
escape
.
I
said
good-bye
to
your
body
.
I
felt
as
if
your
self
was
far
away
somewhere
,
and
then
I
sprang
up
and
dashed
off
in
the
direction
we
had
been
taking
.
It
was
broad
daylight
then
,
but
I
saw
nothing
of
the
soldiers
,
though
I
knew
afterwards
they
must
have
found
you
,
because
when
we
sent
,
your
body
was
gone
.
I
must
have
kept
pretty
straight
,
for
I
came
to
a
house
at
last
,
and
I
went
straight
up
to
it
.
I
thought
it
must
be
Teliaboff
's
,
and
if
it
was
n't
I
felt
I
did
n't
much
care
.
I
went
right
in
,
asked
for
the
master
of
the
house
,
and
when
he
came
to
me
I
told
him
all
.
It
was
Teliaboff
.
He
was
very
good
to
me
,
and
kept
me
there
nearly
a
fortnight
.
We
could
hear
nothing
of
you
—
nothing
at
all
.
By
the
way
,
it
was
he
who
first
,
unconsciously
,
gave
me
the
idea
of
personating
you
,
for
when
I
entered
his
house
on
that
horrible
morning
he
greeted
me
by
your
name
.
I
undeceived
him
at
once
,
but
the
idea
took
root
and
bore
fruit
later
.
He
was
kindness
itself
,
and
his
little
daughter
—
she
was
only
twelve
,
I
think
—
took
a
fancy
to
me
.
I
believe
that
child
's
companionship
saved
me
from
going
mad
.
'
Then
he
got
me
a
passport
,
and
gave
me
money
enough
to
get
to
Vienna
.
When
I
got
there
I
was
penniless
,
and
I
knew
you
had
had
money
there
.
I
did
not
feel
somehow
that
I
was
robbing
you
when
I
forged
your
name
—
Heaven
knows
that
was
easily
done
,
I
knew
your
signature
so
well
—
and
went
on
to
Paris
with
your
money
as
Count
Michael
Litvinoff
.
When
I
took
your
money
I
meant
honestly
to
spend
it
all
in
the
cause
you
had
worked
for
,
and
for
a
time
I
did
.
But
—
I
do
n't
know
how
to
explain
it
—
I
suppose
the
Revolution
had
not
really
taken
hold
