"We are so weary, my beloved one," the lady said. "Let us sleep on these
couches of smooth silk, sleep the heavy hours of the afternoon away, and
go to the Piazza when the heat of the sun has lessened in measure."

An immense languor was over Paul--he asked nothing better than to rest
there in the perfumed shade, near enough to his loved one to be able to
stretch out his arm and touch her hair. And soon a sweet sleep claimed
him, and all was oblivion and peace.

The lady lay still on her couch for a while, her eyes gleaming between
their half-closed lids. But at last, when she saw that Paul indeed slept
deeply, she rose stealthily and crept from the place back to the room, the
gloomy vast room within, where she summoned Dmitry, and ordered the man
she had called Vasili the night before into her presence. He came with
cringing diffidence, prostrating himself to the ground before her, and
kissing the hem of her dress, mute adoration in his dark eyes, like those
of a faithful dog--a great scar showing blue on his bronzed cheek and
forehead.

She questioned him imperiously, while he answered humbly in fear. Dmitry
stood by, an anxious, strained look on his face, and now and then he put
in a word.

Of what danger did they warn her, these two faithful servants? One came
from afar for no other purpose, it seemed. Whatever it was she received
the news in haughty defiance. She spoke fiercely at first, and they
humbled themselves the more. Then Anna appeared, and joined her
supplications to theirs, till at last the lady, like a pettish child
chasing a brood of tiresome chickens, shooed them all from the room,
'twixt laughter and tears. Then she threw up her arms in rage for a