ha? She
would scream and give everything away. Suppose they had seen him enter
and were simply waiting, on the cat-and-mouse plan, to catch him? That
was an intolerable thought.

"I think," said Nina, "I must go and see whether there's any one
outside."

But there was no need for her to do that. Even as she spoke they heard
the steps on the stairs; and instantly afterwards there came the loud
knocking on their door. Vera pressed Nina's hand and went into the hall.

"_Kto tam_... Who's there?" she asked.

"Open the door!... The Workmen and Soldiers' Committee demand entrance
in the name of the Revolution."

She opened the door at once. During those first days of the Revolution
they cherished certain melodramatic displays.

Whether consciously or no they built on all the old French Revolution
traditions, or perhaps it is that every Revolution produces of necessity
the same clothing with which to cover its nakedness. A strange mixture
of farce and terror were those detachments of so-called justice. At
their head there was, as a rule, a student, often smiling and
bespectacled. The soldiers themselves, from one of the Petrograd
regiments, were frankly out for a good time and enjoyed themselves
thoroughly, but, as is the Slavonic way, playfulness could pass with
surprising suddenness to dead earnest--with, indeed, so dramatic a
precipitance that the actors themselves were afterwards amazed. Of these
"little, regrettable mistakes" there had already, during the week, been
several examples. To Vera, with the knowledge of the contents of her
linen-cupboard, the men seemed terrifying enough. Their leader was a fat
and beaming student--quite a boy. He was very polite, saying
"_Zdrastvuite,"_ and taking off his cap. The men behind him--hulking men
from one of the Guards regiments--pushed about in the little hall like a
lot of puppies, joking with one another, holding their rifles upside
down, and making sudden efforts at a seriousness that they could not
possibly sustain.

Only one of them, an older man with a thick black beard, was intensely
grave, and looked at Vera with beseeching eyes, as though he longed to
tell her the secret of his life.

"What can I do for you?" she asked the student.

"_Prosteete_... Forgive us." He smiled and blinked at her, then put on
his cap, clicked his heels, gave a salute, and took his cap off again.
"We wish to be in no way an inconvenience to you. We are simply obeying
orders. We have i