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Or simply perhaps they are different, a new country of new colour and mystery... when one is just in love or has won some prize, or finished at last some difficult work. Petrograd was like that to me that night; I swear to you, Ivan Andreievitch, I did not know where I was. I seem now on looking back to have been in places that night, magical places, that by the morning had flown away.
I am a lonely man, Ivan Andreievitch, since the death of my wife, and to be with any one who knew her is a great happiness ... yes, a great happiness." "And Semyonov?" I asked. "I have nothing to say against Alexei Petrovitch," he answered stiffly.
I could see that he was depressed. "Well, Andrey Vassilievitch," I said to him. "You're depressed about something?" "Yes," he said very gloomily indeed. "I have many unhappy hours, Ivan Andreievitch." I did not get up and leave him as I very easily might have done. I had had, since the night when Nikitin had spoken to me so frankly, a desire to know the little man's side of that affair.
"And they stuck him in the stomach just as he was passing his house..." Through all this tale Vera never moved. I saw, to my surprise, that Lawrence was there now, standing near her but never speaking. Semyonov stood on the stairs watching. Suddenly I saw that she wanted me. "Ivan Andreievitch," she said, "will you do something for me?"
Here I was then in the very heart of the Revolution; but still, you know, Ivan Andreievitch, I couldn't properly seize the fact, I couldn't grasp the truth that all this was really occurring and that it wasn't just a play, a pretence, or a dream... yes, a dream... especially a dream... perhaps, after all, that was what it was.
Late that afternoon the three children were playing with Tulipan in the garden, when they heard Volodia's well-known voice shouting to them "Elena! Boris Andreïevitch!"
"They say to-night for certain," said Andrey Vassilievitch, his fat hand trembling on my bed. He began to talk, his voice shaking with excitement. "Do you know, Ivan Andreievitch, I am continually surprised at myself: 'Here you are, Andrey Vassilievitch, here, at the war. What do you make of it?? I say to myself.
"He's gone into the thing thoroughly with me, and has made some admirable suggestions.... Ivan Andreievitch, I think I should tell you I misjudged him. I wasn't fair on what I said to you the other day about him. Or perhaps it is that being at the Front has changed him, softened him a bit. His love affair there, you know, made him more sympathetic and kindly. I believe he means well to us all.
"If the wickedness of the world is so great, that they rob you of what rightfully belongs to you; take no notice of it it is the will of God. You will come down with Boris Andreïevitch, and Daria Andreïevna, to my house, where there is plenty of room for everyone; and my wife will be proud and honoured.
I asked. "Certainly not," he answered; "that would not suit either of us. It's no good your bringing your English ideas here, Ivan Andreievitch. We belong to the new world, Nina and I." "Well, I want to speak to her," I answered. "So you shall, certainly. But if you hope to influence her at all you are wasting your time, I assure you. Nina has acted very rightly.
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