I loved her at that moment; I felt bitterly, I remember, that I, because I was plain and a cripple, silent and uninteresting, would never win the love of such women. I remembered little Andrey Vassilievitch's words about his wife: "For me she cared as good women care for the poor." In that way for me too women would care--when they cared at all. And always, all my life, it would be like that. How unfair that everything should be given to the Semyonovs and the Nikitins of this world, everything denied to such men as Trenchard, Andrey Vassilievitch and I!... But my little grumble passed as I looked at her. How honest and straight and true with her impulses, her enthusiasms, her rebellions and ignorances she was! Yes, I loved her and had always loved her. That was why I had cared for Trenchard, why now I was attracted by Semyonov, because, shadow of a man as I was, not man enough to be jealous, I could see with her eyes, stand beside her and share her emotion.... But God! how that day I despised myself! "You're tired!" she said, looking at me. "Is your leg hurting you?" "Not much," I answered. "Sit down here beside me." She made way for me on the sofa. "Ivan Andreievitch, you will always be my friend?" "Always," I answered. "I believe you will. I'm a little afraid of you, but I think that I would rather have you as a friend than any one--except John. How fortunate I am! Two Englishmen for my friends! You do not change as R-russians do! You will be angry with me when you think that I am wrong, but then I can believe you. I know that you will tell me the truth." "Perhaps," I said slowly, "Alexei Petrovitch will not wish that I should be your friend!" "Alexei?" she said, laughing. "Oh, thank you very much, I shall choose my own friends. That will always be my affair." I had an uneasy suspicion that perhaps she knew as little about Semyonov as she had once known about Trenchard. It might be that all her life she might never learn wisdom. I do not know that I wished her to learn it. "No," she continued. "But you forgive me now? Forgive me for all my mistakes, for thinking that I loved John when I did not and treating him so badly. Ah! but how unhappy I was! I wished to be honourable and honest--I wished it passionately--and I seemed only to make mistakes. And then because I was ashamed of myself I was angry with every one--at least it seemed that it was with every one, but it was really with myself." "I did you injustice," I said. "And I did Alexei Petrovitch an injustice also. I know now that he truly and deeply loves you.... I believe that you will be very happy ... yes, it is better, much better, than that you should have married Trenchard." Her face flushed with happiness, that strange flush of colour behind her pale cheeks, coming and going with the beats of her heart.