“Sinotschka,” wrote Dubova, “if possible, do come back to town this evening. The Inspector of Schools has arrived, and will visit our school to-morrow morning. It won’t look well if you are not there.” “What is it?” asked Sina’s old aunt. “Olga has sent for me. The school-inspector has come,” replied Sina, pensively. The boy rubbed one foot against another. “She wished me to tell you to come back without fail,” he said. “Are you going?” asked the aunt. “How can I? Alone, in the dark?” “The moon is up,” said the boy. “It’s quite light out-of-doors.” “I shall have to go,” said Sina, still hesitating. “Yes, yes, go, my child. Otherwise there might be trouble.” “Very well, then, I’ll go,” said Sina, nodding her head resolutely. She dressed quickly, put on her hat and took leave of her aunt. “Good-bye, auntie,” “Good-bye, my dear. God be with you.” Sina turned to the boy. “Are you coming with me?” The urchin looked shy and confused, as, again rubbing his feet together, he muttered, “I came to be with mother. She does washing here, for the monks.” “But how am I to go alone, Grischka?” “All right! Let’s go,” replied the lad, in a tone of vigorous assent. They went out into the dark-blue, fragrant night. “What a delightful scent!” she exclaimed, immediately uttering a startled cry, for in the darkness she had stumbled against some one. “It is I,” said Sanine, laughing. Sina held out her trembling hand. “It’s so dark that one can’t see,” she said, by way of excuse. “Where are you going?” “Back to the town. They’ve sent for me.” “What, alone?” “No, the little boy’s going with me. He’s my cavalier.” “Cavalier! Ha! Ha!” repeated Grischka merrily, stamping his bare feet. “And what are _you_ doing here?” she asked. “Oh! we’re just having a drink together.” “You said ‘we’?” “Yes—Schafroff, Svarogitsch, Ivanoff …” “Oh! Yourii Nicolaijevitsch is with you, is he?” asked Sina, and she blushed. To utter the name of him she loved sent a thrill through her as though she were looking down into some precipice. “Why do you ask?” “Because—er—I met him,” she answered, blushing deeper. “Well, good-bye!” Sanine gently held her proffered hand in his. “If you like, I will row you across to the other side. Why should you go all that way round?” “Oh! no, please don’t trouble,” said Sina, feeling strangely shy. “Yes, let him row you across,” said little Grischka persuasively, “for there’s such a lot of mud on the bank.” “Very well, then. You can go back to your mother.” “Aren’t you afraid to cross the fields alone?” asked the boy. “I will accompany you as far as the town,” said Sanine. “But what will your friends say?” “Oh! that doesn’t matter. They’ll stop there till dawn. Besides, they’ve bored me enough as it is.” “Well, it is very kind of you, I am sure. Grischka you can go.” “Good-night, Miss,” said the boy, as he noiselessly disappeared. Sina and Sanine were left there alone.