e quickly: I
cannot gaze upon this awful sight!"

"No, let us stay here!" said Vaninka, holding her back with a grasp of
almost masculine strength. "Let us stay until the house falls in on
them, so that we may be certain that not one of them escapes."

"Oh, my God!" cried Annouschka, falling on her knees, "have mercy upon my
poor brother, for death will hurry him unprepared into Thy presence."

"Yes, yes, pray; that is right," said Vaninka. "I wish to destroy their
bodies, not their souls."

Vaninka stood motionless, her arms crossed, brilliantly lit up by the
flames, while her attendant prayed. The fire did not last long: the
house was wooden, with the crevices filled with oakum, like all those of
Russian peasants, so that the flames, creeping out at the four corners,
soon made great headway, and, fanned by the wind, spread rapidly to all
parts of the building. Vaninka followed the progress of the fire with
blazing eyes, fearing to see some half-burnt spectral shape rush out of
the flames. At last the roof fell in, and Vaninka, relieved of all fear,
then at last made her way to the general's house, into which the two
women entered without being seen, thanks to the permission Annouschka had
to go out at any hour of the day or night.

The next morning the sole topic of conversation in St. Petersburg was the
fire at the Red House. Four half-consumed corpses were dug out from
beneath the ruins, and as three of the general's slaves were missing, he
had no doubt that the unrecognisable bodies were those of Ivan, Daniel,
and Alexis: as for the fourth, it was certainly that of Gregory.

The cause of the fire remained a secret from everyone: the house was
solitary, and the snowstorm so violent that nobody had met the two women
on the deserted road. Vaninka was sure of her maid. Her secret then had
perished with Ivan. But now remorse took the place of fear: the young
girl who was so pitiless and inflexible in the execution of the deed
quailed at its remembrance. It seemed to her that by revealing the
secret of her crime to a priest, she would be relieved of her terrible
burden. She therefore sought a confessor renowned for his lofty charity,
and, under the seal of confession, told him all. The priest was
horrified by the story. Divine mercy is boundless, but human forgiveness
has its limits. He refused Vaninka the absolution she asked. This
refusal was terrible: it would banish Vaninka from the Holy Table; th