“But who will guard the house?”

“No one.  Simply tell the servant at the lodge to watch from the lodge those who enter the villa, but simply from the lodge, without interfering with them, and saying nothing to them, nothing.”

“I will do as you wish.  Do you want me to announce our promenade beforehand?”

“Why, certainly.  Don’t be uneasy; let everybody have the good news.”

“Oh, I will tell only the general and his friends, you may be sure.”

“Now, dear Madame, just one more word.  Do not wait for me at luncheon.”

“What!  You are going to leave us?” she cried instantly, breathless.  “No, no.  I do not wish it.  I am willing to do without the police, but I am not willing to do without you.  Everything might happen in your absence.  Everything!  Everything!” she repeated with singular energy.  “Because, for me, I cannot feel sure as I should, perhaps.  Ah, you make me say these things.  Such things!  But do not go.”

“Do not be afraid; I am not going to leave you, madame.”

“Ah, you are good!  You are kind, kind!  Caracho! (Very well.)”

“I will not leave you.  But I must not be at luncheon.  If anyone asks where I am, say that I have my business to look after, and have gone to interview political personages in the city.”

“There’s only one political personage in Russia,” replied Matrena Petrovna bluntly; “that is the Tsar.”

“Very well; say I have gone to interview the Tsar.”

“But no one will believe that.  And where will you be?”

“I do not know myself.  But I will be about the house.”

“Very well, very well, dear little domovoi.”

She left him, not knowing what she thought about it all, nor what she should think — her head was all in a muddle.

In the course of the morning Athanase Georgevitch and Thaddeus Tchnitchnikof arrived.  The general was already in the veranda.  Michael and Boris arrived shortly after, and inquired in their turn how he had passed the night without the police.  When they were told that Feodor was going for a promenade that afternoon they applauded his decision.  “Bravo!  A promenade a la strielka (to the head of the island) at the hour when all St. Petersburg is driving there.  That is fine.  We will all be there.”  The general made them stay for luncheon.  Natacha appeared for the meal, in rather melancholy mood.  A little before luncheon she had held a double conversation in the garden with Michael and Boris.  No one ever could have known what these three young people had said if some stenographic notes in Rouletabille’s memorandum-book did not give us a notion; the reporter had overheard, by accident surely, since all self-respecting reporters are quite incapable of eavesdropping.

The memorandum notes: 

Natacha went into the garden with a book, which she gave to Boris, who pressed her hand lingeringly to his lips.  “Here is your book; I return it to you.  I don’t want any more of them, the ideas surge so in my brain.  It makes my head ache.  It is true, you are right, I don’t love novelties.  I can satisfy myself with Pouchkine perfectly.  The rest are all one to me.  Did you pass a good night?”