“The third catastrophe is my own invention, just to heighten the effect; but as regards the other two, the news is correct. Sarudine shot himself last night, and I have just heard that Soloveitchik has committed suicide by hanging.” “Impossible!” cried Lialia, jumping up. Her eyes expressed horror and intense curiosity. Yourii hurriedly laid aside his palette, and approached Ivanoff. “You’re not joking?” “No, indeed.” As usual, he put on an air of philosophic indifference, yet evidently he was much shocked at what had happened. “Why did he shoot himself? Because Sanine struck him?” “Does Sanine know?” asked Lialia anxiously. “Yes. Sanine heard about it last night,” replied Ivanoff. “And what does he say?” exclaimed Yourii. Ivanoff shrugged his shoulders. He was in no mood to discuss Sanine with Yourii, and he answered, not without irritation. “Nothing. What has it to do with him?” “Anyhow, he was the cause of it,” said Lialia. “Yes, but what business had that fool to attack him? It is not Sanine’s fault. The whole affair is deplorable, but it is entirely due to Sarudine’s stupidity.” “Oh! I think that the real reason lies deeper,” said Yourii sadly. “Sarudine lived in a certain set that…” Ivanoff shrugged his shoulders. “Yes, and the very fact that he lived in, and was influenced by, such an idiotic set is only proof positive that he was a fool.” Yourii rubbed his hands and said nothing. It pained him to hear the dead man spoken of thus. “Well I can understand why Sarudine did it,” said Lialia, “but Soloveitchik? I never would have thought it possible! What was the reason?” “God knows!” replied Ivanoff. “He was always a bit queer.” At that moment Riasantzeff drove up, and meeting Sina Karsavina on the doorstep, they came upstairs together. Her voice, high-pitched and anxious, could be heard, and also his jovial, bantering tones that talk with pretty girls always evoked. “Anatole Pavlovitch has just come from there,” said Sina excitedly. Riasantzeff followed her, laughing as usual, and endeavouring to light a cigarette as he entered. “A nice state of things!” he said gaily. “If this goes on we soon shan’t have any young people left.” Sina sat down without speaking. Her pretty face looked sad and dejected. “Now then, tell us all about it,” said Ivanoff. “As I came out of the club last night,” began Riasantzeff, “a soldier rushed up to me and stammered out, ‘His Excellency’s shot himself!’ I jumped into a _droschky_ and got there as fast as I could. I found nearly the whole regiment at the house. Sarudine was lying on the bed, and his tunic was unbuttoned.” “And where did he shoot himself?” asked Lialia, clinging to her lover’s arm. “In the temple. The bullet went right through his head and hit the ceiling.” “Was it a Browning?” Yourii asked this.