“The lady without taking her eyes off the blushing Tomassov said with a dreamy gravity quite unusual to her: 

“’I should like to know that your generosity can be supreme—­without a flaw.  Love at its highest should be the origin of every perfection.’

“Tomassov opened his eyes wide with admiration at this, as though her lips had been dropping real pearls.  The sentiment, however, was not uttered for the primitive Russian youth but for the exquisitely accomplished man of the world, De Castel.

“Tomassov could not see the effect it produced because the French officer lowered his head and sat there contemplating his admirably polished boots.  The lady whispered in a sympathetic tone: 

“‘You have scruples?’

“De Castel, without looking up, murmured:  ’It could be turned into a nice point of honour.’

“She said vivaciously:  ’That surely is artificial.  I am all for natural feelings.  I believe in nothing else.  But perhaps your conscience...’

“He interrupted her:  ’Not at all.  My conscience is not childish.  The fate of those people is of no military importance to us.  What can it matter?  The fortune of France is invincible.’

“‘Well then...’ she uttered, meaningly, and rose from the couch.  The French officer stood up, too.  Tomassov hastened to follow their example.  He was pained by his state of utter mental darkness.  While he was raising the lady’s white hand to his lips he heard the French officer say with marked emphasis: 

“’If he has the soul of a warrior (at that time, you know, people really talked in that way), if he has the soul of a warrior he ought to fall at your feet in gratitude.’

“Tomassov felt himself plunged into even denser darkness than before.  He followed the French officer out of the room and out of the house; for he had a notion that this was expected of him.

“It was getting dusk, the weather was very bad, and the street was quite deserted.  The Frenchman lingered in it strangely.  And Tomassov lingered, too, without impatience.  He was never in a hurry to get away from the house in which she lived.  And besides, something wonderful had happened to him.  The hand he had reverently raised by the tips of its fingers had been pressed against his lips.  He had received a secret favour!  He was almost frightened.  The world had reeled—­and it had hardly steadied itself yet.  De Castel stopped short at the corner of the quiet street.

“’I don’t care to be seen too much with you in the lighted thoroughfares, M. Tomassov,’ he said in a strangely grim tone.

“‘Why?’ asked the young man, too startled to be offended.

“‘From prudence,’ answered the other curtly.  ’So we will have to part here; but before we part I’ll disclose to you something of which you will see at once the importance.’