If Madame Roskova had some dim expectation that her own unburdening might provoke response in kind, she was disappointed. She gave Hope every opportunity, endeavoured even to lead her gently in that direction, but, in the fear of committing herself, Hope hardly dared to open her mouth about her own concerns, though she could question Madame eagerly enough as to the details of these terrible happenings. And Anna Roskova misjudged her of a cold and reticent nature, and marvelled at its alliance with so frank and beautiful a face. It was midday before Pavlof came in, tired to death, but in great relief of mind. The hunger-strike was over. One of the strikers had died in the night. "Who?" asked Madame anxiously. "Sophie Rubova." "Ah, the poor child. I knew her mother. Well?" "We did our best to save her by forcing her to swallow. But it was too late. She was a mere shadow and too frail to stand any handling. I went at once to Zazarin. He was for blaming me. I reminded him of my three separate reports yesterday, of which I had copies, and he shut up. He came down to the prison and pledged his word to satisfy all their grievances. If he had only done it yesterday he might have saved the poor little Sophie. But perhaps she is better dead. She would have suffered from it all her life, as some of the others will." "It is simple murder and that man is a devil," said Madame Roskova bitterly. "May God cast it all up to him when his time comes!" CHAPTER XIV HOW THEY LIVED TOGETHER AND YET APART As Hope had foreseen, the recovery of her health, sufficient at all events to permit of her undertaking household duties, was the signal for Madame Roskova's departure. She had hinted at it many times, and had yielded as often to Hope's earnest entreaties and remained. "My dear," she would say of a night, with more than a suggestion of reproof in her manner, "Serge Petrovitch and I have been very good friends, and I am greatly beholden to him, but he will begin to hate me soon if I keep you away from him like this. It is not in nature and it is not right. If you really want me to stop, you two occupy this room, and I will sleep on the hearth out there." "No, no, Anna!" Hope would make haste to reply. "You must not go. Serge is quite content and so am I, I do assure you. It is enough for us that we are together," and then would she blush rosy red in the merciful darkness and wonder if her soul was imperilled past redemption by such unblushing lying. And Anna Roskova said little but wondered much, and sighed for her own lonely exile in Yakutsk, and thought again how different it would have been with them, and deemed Hope but a cold wife.