his hand trembled against the woodwork.

Vera said something that I did not catch.

"No..." Nicholas said. "No... We must be true with one another, Vera.
I have been drinking too much wine. My head is aching, and perhaps my
words are not very clear. But it gives me courage to say what I have in
my mind. I haven't thought out yet what we must do. Perhaps you can
help me. But I must tell you that I saw everything that happened here on
that Thursday afternoon in the week of the Revolution--"

Vera made a little movement of distress

"Yes, you didn't know--but I was in my room--where Alexei sleeps now,
you know. I couldn't help seeing. I'm very sorry."

"No, Nicholas, I'm very glad," Vera answered quietly.

"I would have told you in any case. I should have told you before. I
love him and he loves me, just as you saw. I would like Ivan
Andreievitch and Uncle Ivan and every one to know. There is nothing to
conceal. I have never loved any one before, and I'm not ashamed of
loving some one now.... It doesn't alter our life, Nicholas. I care for
you just as I did care, and I will do just as you tell me. I will never
see him again if that's what you wish, but I shall always love him."

"Ah, Vera--you are cruel." Nicholas gave a little cry like a hurt
animal, then he went away from us, standing for a moment looking at us.

"We'll have to consider what we must do. I don't know. I can't think
to-night.... And you, Alexei, you leave me alone...."

He went stumbling away towards his bedroom.

Vera said nothing to any of us. She got up slowly, looked about her for
a moment as though she were bewildered by the light and then went after
Nicholas. I turned to Semyonov.

"You'd better go back to your own place," I said.

"Not yet, thank you," he answered, smiling.

IX

On the afternoon of Easter Monday I was reminded by Bohun of an
engagement that I had made some weeks before to go that evening to a
party at the house of a rich merchant, Rozanov by name. I have, I think,
mentioned him earlier in this book. I cannot conceive why I had ever
made the promise, and in the afternoon, meeting Bohun at Watkins'
bookshop in the Morskaia, I told him that I couldn't go.

"Oh, come along!" he said. "It's your duty."

"Why my duty?"

"They're all talking as hard as they can about saving the world by
turning the other cheek, and so on; and a few practical facts about
Germany from you will do a world of good."

"Oh, your propag