"Well, we shall see, we shall see; meanwhile you will come, and that is good. We shall travel in my own Dormese; in three days we shall be in Moscow. We shall not journey by night, for I would have you look your sweetest when Sasha sees you; poor lad, he will not be at his best--wounded and perhaps ill with fever; you will remember that when you see him!" "I will remember that he has already bled for Russia, that will mean more for me than the colour of his cheeks," said Vera. "That is a wise saying, _chérie_; good, I like it; yes, remember that he is a good Russian." Vera was not long in Moscow before Sasha Maximof presented himself. He came with his arm in a sling, pale and looking many years older than when Vera last saw him. His face was certainly a handsome one, and much of its present pallor was lost in the blush which spread over his features as he took Vera's hand and bent over it. "My mother did not exaggerate," he said, gazing at the girl with undisguised admiration. "I thought--three years ago, is it?--that you would grow into a handsome girl, but by the Saints, Vera, I did not anticipate--this!" "So you have 'eschewed the follies of cadetdom,'" laughed Vera, quoting Sasha's late letter to her in Paris. "What does that mean, pray?" "You quote imperfectly," Sasha blushed again. "I wrote, 'my heart is disengaged, and I have eschewed the follies of cadetdom'. You must know what I mean by the follies of my cadet-period, for assuredly there could scarcely have existed upon this earth a more objectionable person than I was in those days." "You had, if I remember rightly," said Vera, "a very fair opinion of yourself; you refused to know me because I was too young." "I am prepared to make amends," Sasha laughed. "Please do all your fault-finding at once, in order that my repentance may be complete. I know I was a conceited young cub and treated you abominably. What is your next grievance?" "A very much more serious one. Your memory is so good that you will not have forgotten a certain conversation when we parted three years ago." "I think I remember every word of it; I have often thought of it." "Is that so?" asked Vera in surprise. "Why?" "Honestly, because you looked so pretty that day and showed so much spirit that I was surprised into liking you better than I thought. I realised this afterwards. I suppose I am a person of strong imagination, because from time to time, recalling that interview, I have felt that sense of 'like' almost deepen into 'love'." "Oh!" Vera laughed; "but that could only have been after your heart became disengaged; do not forget, _mon ami_, that when we parted your heart was far from being disengaged." "I thought so; but one makes mistakes about such things. At any rate I got over that--that foolish business. Am I forgiven all these juvenile sins?"