e fragments of jade, broke the soft blue of the water. How
pleasant to feel the cobbles firm beneath one's feet, to know that the
snow was gone for many months, and that light now would flood the
streets and squares! Nevertheless, my foreboding was not raised, and the
veils of colour hung from house to house and from street to street could
not change the realities of the scene.

I climbed the stairs to the flat and found Vera waiting for me. She was
with Uncle Ivan, who, I found to my disappointment, was coming with us.

We started off.

"We can walk across to the Bourse," she said. "It's such a lovely
evening, and we're a little early."

We talked of nothing but the most ordinary things; Uncle Ivan's company
prevented anything else. To say that I cursed him is to put it very
mildly. He had been, I believe, oblivious of all the scenes that had
occurred during the last weeks. If the Last Judgement occurred under his
very nose, and he had had a cosy meal in front of him, he would have
noticed nothing. The Revolution had had no effect on him at all; it did
not seem strange to him that Semyonov should come to live with them; he
had indeed fancied that Nicholas had not "been very well" lately, but
then Nicholas had always been an odd and cantankerous fellow, and he, as
he told me, never paid too much attention to his moods. His one anxiety
was lest Sacha should be hindered from her usual shopping on the morrow,
it being May Day, when there would be processions and other tiresome
things. He hoped that there was enough food in the house.

"There will be cold cutlets and cheese," Vera said.

He told me that he really did not know why he was going to this meeting.
He took no interest in politics, and he hated speeches, but he would
like to see our Ambassador. He had heard that he was always excellently
dressed....

Vera said very little. Her troubles that evening must have been
accumulating upon her with terrible force--I did not know, at that time,
about her night-scene with Nicholas. She was very quiet, and just as we
entered the building she whispered to me:

"Once over to-morrow--"

I did not catch the rest. People pressed behind us, and for a moment we
were separated; we were not alone again. I have wondered since what she
meant by that, whether she had a foreboding or some more definite
warning, or whether she simply referred to the danger of riots and
general lawlessness. I shall never know now.

I had expecte