“Oh, I do not understand at all,” Stella said, in a disappointed and perplexed voice.  “Since we are going to be married, why would it be so very wrong for you to kiss me?  I—­I—­” her small rueful face, with its sweet childlike irregular curves, looked almost pathetically comic, and Sasha leaned forward and covered his eyes with his hands.  And then he mastered himself and laughed softly.

“Oh, you adorable one!” he said.  “It is not wrong—­not the least wrong.  Only presently, when you do understand, you will realize how very much I loved you to-day.”

But Stella was still pouting—­and got up restlessly and went to the window.

“What can they do when they get to the Embassy?” she asked.  “Could they really take me back if they found me by telephoning round?”

“I do not think so—­if you are past twenty-one.”

“I was twenty-one in April.  I am not a bit afraid of them, but I do not want to have any row.”

“When my sister has arrived you must write to your aunt, and tell where you are and what are your intentions, then all will be finished.”

“Oh, I wish she would come, don’t you?” Stella said.

“More than I can say, darling,” he answered, fervently.  “You will not, I hope, find me so incomprehensible then.”

He walked about the room once or twice, and at last paused in front of her.

“Stella,” he whispered, while his eyes blazed again, “I cannot bear it, little sweetheart, to stay all alone with you here.  Will you forgive me, if I leave you until Anastasia has arrived?  Go and rest in your room, darling, and I will go to the station to meet her.  Ivan will remain outside your door and you will be quite safe.”

But Stella put out her hands like a frightened baby.

“Oh. must you leave me?” she cried, pettishly.  “You are very cruel!  You make me almost wish I had not come.”

From having swum with love and passion his eyes suddenly gave forth a flash of steel, and his voice was like ice as he answered: 

“If that is so, mademoiselle, it is not too late.  I would not exact any unwilling sacrifice.  Shall I take you back again?”

And then Stella’s childishness melted and fell from her, and she became a real woman as she looked into his stern face.

“No—­” she said, “I will not go back.  I am sorry I was so uncontrolled, but I am nervous—­and I do not know exactly what I am—­Sasha, please take care of me,” and she held out her hands with a piteous gesture of asking for his protection, and moved beyond all power of further control he folded her in his arms.

“My darling, my darling!” he murmured, frantically kissing her hair.  But his iron will reasserted itself in a few seconds, and while he still held her he said with more calm: