“I’m not touching you, Nicholas,” Semyonov answered, laughing softly.

“Yes you are—­you know that you are.  I’m not angry—­not yet.  But it’s unwise of you—­unwise....”

“Unwise—­how?”

“Never mind.  ‘Below the silent pools there lie hidden many devils.’  Leave me alone.  You are our guest.”

“Indeed, Nicholas,” said Semyonov, still laughing, “I mean you no harm.  Ask our friend Durward here whether I ever mean any one any harm.  He will, I’m sure, give me the best of characters.”

“No—­no harm perhaps—­but still you tease me....  I’m a fool to mind....  But then I am a fool—­every one knows it.”

All the time he was looking with his pathetic eyes and his pale face at Vera.

Vera said again, very low, almost in a whisper:  “Uncle Alexei... please.”

“But really, Nicholas,” Semyonov went on, “you under-rate yourself.  You do indeed.  Nobody thinks you a fool.  I think you a very lucky man.  With your talents—­”

“Talents!” said Nicholas softly, looking at Vera.  “I have no talents.”

“—­And Vera’s love for you,” went on Semyonov—­

“Ah! that is over!” Nicholas said, so low that I scarcely heard it.  I do not know what then exactly happened.  I think that Vera put out her hand to cover Nicholas’.  At any rate I saw him draw his away, very gently.  It lay on the table, and the only sound beside the voices was the tiny rattle of his nails as his hand trembled against the woodwork.

Vera said something that I did not catch.

“No...”  Nicholas said.  “No...  We must be true with one another, Vera.  I have been drinking too much wine.  My head is aching, and perhaps my words are not very clear.  But it gives me courage to say what I have in my mind.  I haven’t thought out yet what we must do.  Perhaps you can help me.  But I must tell you that I saw everything that happened here on that Thursday afternoon in the week of the Revolution—­”

Vera made a little movement of distress

“Yes, you didn’t know—­but I was in my room—­where Alexei sleeps now, you know.  I couldn’t help seeing.  I’m very sorry.”

“No, Nicholas, I’m very glad,” Vera answered quietly.

“I would have told you in any case.  I should have told you before.  I love him and he loves me, just as you saw.  I would like Ivan Andreievitch and Uncle Ivan and every one to know.  There is nothing to conceal.  I have never loved any one before, and I’m not ashamed of loving some one now....  It doesn’t alter our life, Nicholas.  I care for you just as I did care, and I will do just as you tell me.  I will never see him again if that’s what you wish, but I shall always love him.”

“Ah, Vera—­you are cruel.”  Nicholas gave a little cry like a hurt animal, then he went away from us, standing for a moment looking at us.

“We’ll have to consider what we must do.  I don’t know.  I can’t think to-night....  And you, Alexei, you leave me alone....”