"I was under the table set with hors-d'oeuvres in the sitting-room."

"Ah, under the table of zakouskis! I have forbidden them before
now to spread a long hanging cloth there, which obliges me to kick
my foot underneath casually in order to be sure there is no one
beneath. It is imprudent, very imprudent, such table-cloths. And
under the table of zakouskis have you been able to see or hear
anything?"

"Madame, do you think that anyone could possibly see or hear
anything in the villa when you are watching it alone, when the
general is asleep and your step-daughter is preparing for bed?"

"No. no. I do not believe so. I do not. No, oh, Christ!"

They talked thus very low in the dark, both seated in a corner of
the sofa, Rouletabille's hand held tightly in the burning hands of
Matrena Petrovna.

She sighed anxiously. "And in the garden - have you heard anything?"

"I heard the officer Boris say to the officer Michael, in French,
'Shall we return at once to the villa?' The other replied in
Russian in a way I could see was a refusal. Then they had a
discussion in Russian which I, naturally, could not understand.
But from the way they talked I gathered that they disagreed and
that no love was lost between them."

"No, they do not love each other. They both love Natacha."