e you seen him since?" inquired
Rouletabille.

"Boris called to see us to-day, to say good-by, but we did not receive
him, under the orders of the police. Natacha has written to tell him of
Koupriane's orders. We have received letters from him; he is quitting
St. Petersburg.

"What for?"

"Well, after the frightful bloody scene in his little house, when he
learned how Michael Nikolaievitch had found his death, and after he
himself had undergone a severe grilling from the police, and when he
learned the police had sacked his library and gone through his papers,
he resigned, and has resolved to live from now on out in the country,
without seeing anyone, like the philosopher and poet he is. So far as I
am concerned, I think he is doing absolutely right. When a young man is
a poet, it is useless to live like a soldier. Someone has said that,
I don't know the name now, and when one has ideas that may upset other
people, surely they ought to live in solitude."

Rouletabille looked at Natacha, who was as pale as her white gown, and
who added no word to her mother's outburst. They had drawn near the
kiosk. Rouletabille saluted the general, who called to him to come up
and, when the young man extended his hand, he drew him abruptly nearer
and embraced him. To show Rouletabille how active he was getting again,
Feodor Feodorovitch marched up and down the kiosk with only the aid of a
stick. He went and came with a sort of wild, furious gayety.

"They haven't got me yet, the dogs. They haven't got me! And one (he was
thinking of Michael) who saw me every day was here just for that. Very
well. I ask you where he is now. And yet here I am! An attack! I'm
always here! But with a good eye; and I begin to have a good leg. We
shall see. Why, I recollect how, when I was at Tiflis, there was an
insurrection in the Caucasus. We fought. Several times I could feel the
swish of bullets past my hair. My comrades fell around me like flies.
But nothing happened to me, not a thing. And here now! They will not get
me, they will not get me. You know how they plan now to come to me, as
living bombs. Yes, they have decided on that. I can't press a friend's
hand any more without the fear of seeing him explode. What do you think
of that? But they won't get me. Come, drink my health. A small glass
of vodka for an appetizer. You see, young man, we are going to have
zakouskis here. What a marvelous panorama! You can see everything from
here. If the en