me your hand."

Polunin stretched out his large hand, took her yielding one in his
and pressed its delicate fingers.

"You have forgiven me?" she murmured.

He looked at her helplessly, then muttered: "I cannot either forgive
or not forgive. But ... I cannot!"

"Never mind; we shall forget. We shall be cheerful and happy. You
remember: 'Where beauty shines amidst mire and baseness there is only
torment'.... You need not mind, it is all over!"

She uttered the last few words with a cry, raised herself erect, and
laughed aloud with forced gaiety.

"We shall tell fortunes, jest, drink, be merry--like our grandfathers ...
you remember! ...Had not our grandmothers their coachmen
friends?"

She rang the bell and the butler came in.

"Bring in more tea. Light the fire and the lamps."

The fire burnt brightly and illuminated the leather-covered chairs.
The portrait frames on the walls shone golden through the darkness.
Polunin paced up and down the room, his hands behind his back; his
footsteps were muffled in the thick carpet.