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most unfortunate weaknesses. I had no opinion of Trenchard's intellect at all, and in that I was quite wrong. Semyonov at this time flung Nikitin, Andrey Vassilievitch, Trenchard and myself into one basket. We were all "crazy romantics" and there came an occasion, which I have reason most clearly to remember, when he told us what he thought of us. We were together, Semyonov, Nikitin, Trenchard and I, after breakfast, smoking cigarettes, enjoying half an hour's idleness before setting about our various business. It was a blazing hot morning and the air quivered, like a silver curtain before our eyes, separating us from the dim blue forest of S---- beyond the river, the Nestor itself, the deep green slopes of our own hill. We had been silent, then Trenchard said a foolish thing: "War brings all the best out of people, I think," he said. God knows what private line of thought he had been pursuing, some sentimental reflections, I suppose, that were in him perfectly honest and sincere. But he did not look his best that morning, sitting back in his chair with his mouth open, his forehead damp with the heat, his tunic up about his neck and a rather dirty blue pocket-handkerchief in his hand. I saw Semyonov's lip curl. "Yes. That's very interesting, Mr.," he said. "I'm glad at any rate that we've had the honour of seeing the best of _you_. That's very pleasant to know." "What I mean--" said Trenchard, blushing and stammering. "What ... that is--" "I agree with Mr.," suddenly said Nikitin, who had been dreamily watching the blue forest. "War _does_ bring out the best in the human character--always." Semyonov turned smilingly to him. "Yes, Vladimir Stepanovitch, we know your illusions. Forgive me for insisting that they are illusions. I would not disturb your romantic happiness for the world." "You can't disturb me, Alexei Petrovitch," Nikitin answered sleepily. "What a hot morning!" "No," said Semyonov. "I would be very wrong to disturb you. Believe me, I've never tried. It's very agreeable to me to see you and Mr. so happy together and it must be pleasant for both of you to feel that you've got a nice God all of your own who sleeps a good deal but still, on the whole, gives you what you want. We may wonder a little what Mr. has done to be so favoured--never very much I fancy--but still I like the friendliness and comfort of it and I'm really lucky to have the good fortune of your acquaintance. So nice for Russ
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