once explained to me, he was at his worst on Sunday, because he
was then so inevitably reminded of his lost youth.

"It's a gloomy day, Ivan Andreievitch, for all those who have not quite
done what they expected. The bells ring, and you feel that they ought to
mean something to you, but of course one's gone past all that.... But
it's a pity...."

Nina's only thought that morning was that Lawrence was coming in the
afternoon to take her for a walk. She had arranged it all. After a very
evident hint from her he had suggested it. Vera had refused, because
some aunts were coming to call, and finally it had been arranged that
after the walk Lawrence should bring Nina home, stay to half-past six
dinner, and that then they should all go to the French theatre. I also
was asked to dinner and the theatre. Nina was sure that something must
happen that afternoon. It would be a crisis.... She felt within her such
vitality, such power, such domination, that she believed that to-day she
could command anything.... She was, poor child, supremely confident, and
that not through conceit or vanity, but simply because she was a
fatalist and believed that destiny had brought Lawrence to her feet....

It was the final proof of her youth that she saw the whole universe
working to fulfil her desire.

The other proof of her youth was that she began, for the first time, to
suffer desperately. The most casual mention of Lawrence's name would
make her heart beat furiously, suffocating her, her throat dry, her
cheeks hot, her hands cold. Then, as the minute of his arrival
approached, she would sit as though she were the centre of a leaping
fire that gradually inch by inch was approaching nearer to her, the
flames staring like little eyes on the watch, the heat advancing and
receding in waves like hands. She hoped that no one would notice her
agitation. She talked nonsense to whomsoever was near to her with little
nervous laughs; she seemed to herself to be terribly unreal, with a
fierce hostile creature inside her who took her heart in his hot hands
and pressed it, laughing at her.

And then the misery! That little episode at the circus of which I had
been a witness was only the first of many dreadful ventures. She
confessed to me afterwards that she did not herself know what she was
doing. And the final result of these adventures was to encourage her
because he had not repelled her. He _must_ have noticed, she thought,
the times when her hand