en the world, as we knew it, was
tumbling about our ears, she had told herself that the only thing to
which she must give a thought was her fixed loyalty to Nina and
Nicholas. She would not think of Lawrence....She would not think of him.
And so resolving, thought of him all the more.

By Wednesday morning her nerves were exhausted. The excitements of this
week came as a climax to many months of strain. With the exception of
her visit to the Astoria she had been out scarcely at all and, although
the view from her flat was peaceful enough she could imagine every kind
of horror beyond the boundaries of the Prospect--and in every horror
Lawrence figured.

There occurred that morning a strange little conversation between Vera,
Semyonov, Nicholas Markovitch, and myself. I arrived about ten o'clock
to see how they were and to hear the news. I found Vera sitting quietly
at the table sewing. Markovitch stood near to her, his anxious eyes and
trembling mouth perched on the top of his sharp peaky collar and his
hands rubbing nervously one within another. He was obviously in a state
of very great excitement. Semyonov sat opposite Vera, leaning his thick
body on his arms, his eyes watching his niece and every once and again
his firm pale hand stroking his beard.

When I joined them he said to me:

"Well, Ivan Andreievitch, what's the latest news of your splendid
Revolution?"

"Why my Revolution?" I asked. I felt an especial dislike this morning of
his sneering eyes and his thick pale honey-coloured beard. "Whose ever
it was he should be proud of it. To see thousands of people who've been
hungry for months wandering about as I've seen them this morning and
none of them touching a thing--it's stupendous!"

Semyonov smiled but said nothing. His smile irritated me. "Oh, of course
you sneer at the whole thing, Alexei Petrovitch!" I said. "Anything fine
in human nature excites your contempt as I know of old."

I think that that was the first time that Vera had heard me speak to him
in that way, and she looked up at me with sudden surprise and I think
gratitude.

Semyonov treated me with complete contempt. He answered me slowly: "No,
Ivan Andreievitch, I don't wish to deprive you of any kind of happiness.
I wouldn't for worlds. But do you know our people, that's the question?
You haven't been here very long; you came loaded up with romantic
notions, some of which you've discarded but only that you may pick up
others....I don't w