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I was standing near the table, watching the company, when I found Markovitch at my side. "Very glad you've come, Ivan Andreievitch," he said. "I've been meaning to come and see you, only I've been too busy." "How's the ink getting along?" I asked him. "Oh, the ink!" He brushed my words scornfully aside. "No, that's nothing. We must postpone that to a more propitious time.
But now, who cares? Nobody, you may very truly say.... Well, well. But the point is that this evening we shall really be in the thick of it. And may I tell you something, Ivan Andreievitch? Only for yourself, because you are an Englishman and can be trusted: to speak quite truthfully I'm frightened.
That would be absurd. You'll be glad to know at any rate that I've decided to give up these ridiculous rooms. I deserve all the illness I get so long as I'm here." "Yes, that's good," she answered. "How you could have stayed so long " She dropped into a chair, closed her eyes and lay back. "Oh, Ivan Andreievitch, but I'm tired!"
But I couldn't help my joy, which was stronger than myself.... "It must have been early afternoon, so long had I been on the road, when I came at last to the Duma. You saw yourself, Ivan Andreievitch, that all that week the crowd outside the Duma was truly a sea of people with the motor lorries that bristled with rifles for sea-monsters and the gun-carriages for ships. And such a babel!
"Andrey!... My God, how I will miss him!" he said and I, who knew how often he had cursed the little man and been impatient with his importunities, understood. "I have lost more far more than Andrey," he said. "I talked to you once, Ivan Andreievitch. You will understand that I have no one now who can bring her to me. I think that she will never come to me alone.
I don't know what he said, but he explained that Vera would always be unhappy now, always, longing and waiting and hoping.... "Keep him here in Russia!" he whispered to me. "She will get tired of him then they will tire of one another; but if you send him away...." Oh! he is a devil, Ivan Andreievitch, and why has he persecuted me so? What have I ever done to him?
Nothing... but for weeks now he has pursued me and destroyed my inventions, and flung Russia in my face and made Nina, dear Nina, laugh at me, and now, when the other things are finished, he shows me that Vera will be unhappy so long as I am alive. What have I ever done, Ivan Andreievitch? I am so unimportant, why has he taken such a trouble?
"I had forgotten. But it is of no importance. You know, Ivan Andreievitch, that what I told you before is true.... We don't want you here any more. I tell you in a perfectly friendly way. I bear you no malice. But we're tired of your sentimentality. I'm not speaking only for myself I'm not indeed.
Meanwhile meanwhile, Ivan Andreievitch, I've hit it at last!" "What is it this time?" I asked. He could hardly speak for his excitement. "It's wood the bark the bark of the tree, you know a new kind of fibre for cloth. If I hadn't got to look after these people here, I'd take you and show you now. You're a clever fellow you'd understand at once.
At the mention of his name her whole body quivered, but again only for an instant. "Lawrence asked me to come and see you." She looked up at me then gravely and coldly, and without the sign of any emotion either in her face or voice. "Thank you, Ivan Andreievitch, but I want no help I am in no trouble. It was very kind of Mr. Lawrence, but really " Then I could endure it no longer.
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