nt. This chimed in so strangely
with my premonition. "I never was more delighted to hear it. I hope
you're going a long distance from us all."

"That's as may be," he answered. "I can't tell you definitely."

"When are you going?" I asked.

"That I can't tell you either. But I have a premonition that it will be
soon."

"Oh, a premonition," I said, disappointed. "Is nothing settled?"

"No, not definitely. It depends on others."

"Have you told Vera and Nicholas?"

"No--in fact, only last night Vera begged me to go away, and I told her
that I would love to do anything to oblige her, but this time I was
afraid that I couldn't help her. I would be compelled, alas, to stay on
indefinitely."

"Look here, Semyonov," I said, "stop that eternal fooling. Tell me
honestly--are you going or not?"

"Going away from where?" he asked, laughing.

"From the Markovitches, from all of us, from Petrograd?"

"Yes--I've told you already," he answered. "I've come to say good-bye."

"Then what did you mean by telling Vera--"

"Never you mind, Ivan Andreievitch. Don't worry your poor old head with
things that are too complicated for you--a habit of yours, I'm afraid.
Just believe me when I say that I've come to say good-bye. I have an
intuition that we shall never talk together again. I may be wrong. But
my intuitions are generally correct."

I noticed then that his face was haggard, his eyes dark, the light in
them exhausted as though he had not slept.... I had never before seen
him show positive physical distress. Let his soul be what it might, his
body seemed always triumphant.

"Whether your intuition is right or no," I said, "this _is_ the last
time. I never intend to speak to you again if I can help it. The day
that I hear that you have really left us, never to return, will be one
of the happiest days of my life."

Semyonov gave me a strange look, humorous, ironical, and, upon my word,
almost affectionate: "That's very sad what you say, Ivan
Andreievitch--if you mean it. And I suppose you mean it, because you
English always do mean what you say.... But it's sad because, truly, I
have friendly feelings towards you, and you're almost the only man in
the world of whom I could say that."

"You speak as though your friendship were an honour," I said hotly.
"It's a degradation."

He smiled. "Now that's melodrama, straight out of your worst English
plays. _And_ how bad they can be!... But you hadn't always this vehement
h