were singing, and even drank beer, though with evident aversion;
he had been trained in this art by a student to whom he had once
belonged. But he was not prompt in obeying Emil--not as he was with
his master Pantaleone--and when Emil ordered him to 'speak,' or to
'sneeze,' he only wagged his tail and thrust out his tongue like a
pipe.

The young people talked, too. At the beginning of the walk, Sanin, as
the elder, and so more reflective, turned the conversation on fate and
predestination, and the nature and meaning of man's destiny; but the
conversation quickly took a less serious turn. Emil began to question
his friend and patron about Russia, how duels were fought there, and
whether the women there were beautiful, and whether one could learn
Russian quickly, and what he had felt when the officer took aim
at him. Sanin, on his side, questioned Emil about his father, his
mother, and in general about their family affairs, trying every time
not to mention Gemma's name--and thinking only of her. To speak more
precisely, it was not of her he was thinking, but of the morrow, the
mysterious morrow which was to bring him new, unknown happiness! It
was as though a veil, a delicate, bright veil, hung faintly fluttering
before his mental vision; and behind this veil he felt ... felt the
presence of a youthful, motionless, divine image, with a tender smile
on its lips, and eyelids severely--with affected seventy--downcast.
And this image was not the face of Gemma, it was the face of happiness
itself! For, behold, at last _his_ hour had come, the veil had
vanished, the lips were parting, the eyelashes are raised--his
divinity has looked upon him--and at once light as from the sun,
and joy and bliss unending! He dreamed of this morrow--and his soul
thrilled with joy again in the melting torture of ever-growing
expectation!