"At eight o'clock we start Mr. Palma," said Serge. "I will be here." "And Madame?" "And Madame." "Unless she changes her mind again," said Sokolof. "It is about the only privilege we can offer her here, and, God knows, no one would blame her if she did." "She will not change her mind," said Pavlof, and withdrew, and went wearily home again. He felt utterly fagged out, body and soul, with the rending emotions of the day, and he knew there was no rest for him that night. Time enough to rest when he got to Yakutsk. From all accounts it was the only thing to be done there. Bah! he was forgetting. His brain was getting muddled with it all. It was not to Yakutsk they were going. He wondered vaguely where Palma would make for. The Amur probably, and Vladivostok. But he would have it all arranged, and God grant them a good deliverance! For when they got clear of Kara their troubles would only be beginning. It was a desperate venture at best, but they must go through with it and trust in providence. He felt, however, more like a prisoner bound for Yakutsk than a prisoner on the eve of enlargement, more of a bondman than he had ever felt since he came to Kara. CHAPTER XXIV HOW THEY PREPARED TO GO WITH HIM Hope had been busy during his absence. Marya Verskaïa had come in, and between them they had packed Hope's belongings into bundles, and spread out all Paul's for his decision as to what he would take and what leave behind. The kind-hearted little chatterbox was loud in her lamentations over their sudden departure, and her ceaseless flow of talk was to Paul like the continuous dropping of small shot on a bared membrane of the brain. He hastily selected the most necessary things, constantly forgetting that it was not to Yakutsk that he was going, but to freedom, where all things were obtainable, or to death, where nothing would be needed. The philosophical paucity of his requirements astonished Marya Verskaïa not a little. "But Serge Petrovitch," she would urge, time after time. "You will certainly need this at Yakutsk. There is nothing there, you know--absolutely nothing. You cannot possibly replace it." "No, no. I shall not need it. I will do without it, Marya Stepanovna." And--"His brain has given way," Marya would plaintively murmur. "You will give that to Polokof, and this to Hugo Svendt, and this to Alexei Etelsky. I shall not require them, I assure you," as she held up remonstrative hands again. "Anna Roskova will do as she thinks fit with all the rest. Now I will see you home, or the police will think you have run away," for he knew that Hope's nerves must be as tremulous as his own, and that Marya's chatter must be jangling them in similar fashion. Hope was still busy about the house on quite unnecessary work when he got back. She could not sit still for a moment. Her great eyes glowed luminously in their dark circles, in spite of their drooping lids.