"Ah! only to get away from here as soon as possible," he thought,
clutching his head. "My God! as soon as possible."

The train by which Volodya was to go back with his _maman_ was at
eight-forty. There were three hours before the train started, but
he would with pleasure have gone to the station at once without
waiting for his _maman_.

At eight o'clock he went to the house. His whole figure was expressive
of determination: what would be, would be! He made up his mind to
go in boldly, to look them straight in the face, to speak in a loud
voice, regardless of everything.

He crossed the terrace, the big hall and the drawing-room, and there
stopped to take breath. He could hear them in the dining-room,
drinking tea. Madame Shumihin, _maman_, and Nyuta were talking and
laughing about something.

Volodya listened.

"I assure you!" said Nyuta. "I could not believe my eyes! When he
began declaring his passion and--just imagine!--put his arms
round my waist, I should not have recognised him. And you know he
has a way with him! When he told me he was in love with me, there
was something brutal in his face, like a Circassian."

"Really!" gasped _maman_, going off into a peal of laughter. "Really!
How he does remind me of his father!"

Volodya ran back and dashed out into the open air.