We talked of nothing but the most ordinary things; Uncle Ivan’s company prevented anything else.  To say that I cursed him is to put it very mildly.  He had been, I believe, oblivious of all the scenes that had occurred during the last weeks.  If the Last Judgement occurred under his very nose, and he had had a cosy meal in front of him, he would have noticed nothing.  The Revolution had had no effect on him at all; it did not seem strange to him that Semyonov should come to live with them; he had indeed fancied that Nicholas had not “been very well” lately, but then Nicholas had always been an odd and cantankerous fellow, and he, as he told me, never paid too much attention to his moods.  His one anxiety was lest Sacha should be hindered from her usual shopping on the morrow, it being May Day, when there would be processions and other tiresome things.  He hoped that there was enough food in the house.

“There will be cold cutlets and cheese,” Vera said.

He told me that he really did not know why he was going to this meeting.  He took no interest in politics, and he hated speeches, but he would like to see our Ambassador.  He had heard that he was always excellently dressed....

Vera said very little.  Her troubles that evening must have been accumulating upon her with terrible force—­I did not know, at that time, about her night-scene with Nicholas.  She was very quiet, and just as we entered the building she whispered to me: 

“Once over to-morrow—­”

I did not catch the rest.  People pressed behind us, and for a moment we were separated; we were not alone again.  I have wondered since what she meant by that, whether she had a foreboding or some more definite warning, or whether she simply referred to the danger of riots and general lawlessness.  I shall never know now.

I had expected a crowded meeting, but I was not prepared for the multitude that I found.  We entered by a side-door, and then passed up a narrow passage, which led us to the reserved seats at the side of the platform.  I had secured these some days before.  In the dark passage one could realise nothing; important gentlemen in frock-coats, officers, and one or two soldiers, were hurrying to and fro, with an air of having a great deal to do, and not knowing at all how to do it.  Beyond the darkness there was a steady hum, like the distant whirr of a great machine.  There was a very faint smell in the air of boots and human flesh.  A stout gentleman with a rosette in his buttonhole showed us to our seats.  Vera sat between Uncle Ivan and myself.  When I looked about me I was amazed.  The huge hall was packed so tightly with human beings that one could see nothing but wave on wave of faces, or, rather, the same face, repeated again and again and again, the face of a baby, of a child, of a credulous, cynical dreamer, a face the kindest, the naivest, the cruellest, the most friendly, the most human, the most savage, the most Eastern, and the most Western in the world.