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It will make him quite, quite mad. Can we do nothing more? Nothing?" "I think we have done our best to wake up this quarter of the town, and yet Fischelowitz is still asleep. No one else can be of any use to us therefore " he stopped, for his conclusion seemed self-evident. "I suppose so," said Vjera, regretfully. "Let us go, then."
These things amused them, but at the same time they felt that he could never be what they were, and that those manners and speeches of his, which, if they had imitated them, would have seemed in themselves so many forms of vulgarity, were somehow not vulgar in him. Vjera, as she loved him, felt all this far more keenly than the others.
"Oh, Vjera, do not laugh at me is it really true, child?" "Really true fifty marks." Her pale face beamed with pleasure. "And now you can go and pay Fischelowitz at once," she added. But he leaned back a moment in his chair, looking at her intently. Then his eyes grew moist, and, when he spoke, his voice quivered. "May God forgive me for taking it of you," he said.
She cut it off herself when she knew she was dying and she told me to sell it if ever I needed a little money." The girl's voice trembled violently, and she turned her head away. Schmidt was silent and very grave. Then Vjera began to move on again, clutching the precious thing to her bosom and drawing her shawl over it.
The air was beginning to grow chilly, but neither of them heeded the change. "You think that I do not love you," said the Count again. "You are mistaken, deeply mistaken, Vjera." The faint, soft colour rose in the poor girl's waxen cheeks, and there was an unaccustomed light in her weary blue eyes as they met his. "I do not say," continued her companion, "that I love you as boys love at twenty.
As it was, he felt himself carried away by a sort of enthusiasm in her cause, which would have led him to make even greater sacrifices than he had it in his power to offer. So strong was this feeling that he felt called upon to make a sort of apology. "I am sorry I cannot do more to help you," he said regretfully. "It is very little I know, but then, you see I am not alone in the world, Vjera.
He pressed an old silk pocket-handkerchief to his moist brow, the pocket-handkerchief which he always had about him, freshly ironed and smoothly folded, on the day when he expected his friends. Vjera, her face pale with distress, passed her arm through his and made as though she would walk with him down the gentle slope of the street, which leads in the direction of the older city.
For some minutes he stood still, as though listening for some faint echo from the direction in which Vjera had disappeared, then he slowly and thoughtfully walked away. He had forgotten to eat at dinner-time, and now he forgot that the hour of the second meal had come round.
I did not wait for him to ask it, after his wife accused me of being the means of his losing the money." "Oh, how could she be so heartless!" Vjera exclaimed. "What was the use of telling you? I did not mean to. Good-night, Vjera dear I must be quick." He tried to leave her, but she held him fast. "I will get you the money at once," she said desperately and without the least hesitation.
"But these fifty marks what do you need them for to-night?" Vjera asked, not understanding at all. "Will not to-morrow do as well?" "No, no!" he cried in renewed anxiety. "It must be to-night, now, this very hour. If I do not pay the money, I am ruined, Vjera, disgraced for ever.
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