While Romashov was mumbling his felicitations, Shurochka forced him, without letting go his hands, softly and with gentle violence, to enter the gloomy hall with her. At the same time she uttered half-aloud, in a hurried and nervous tone-- "Thanks, Romochka, for coming. Ah, how much I was afraid that you would plead some excuse! But remember now, to-day you are to be jolly and amiable. Don't do anything which will attract attention. Now, how absurd you are! Directly any one touches you, you shrivel up like a sensitive-plant." "Alexandra Petrovna, your letter has upset me. There is an expression you make use of...." "My dear boy! what nonsense!" she grasped both his hands and pressed them hard, gazing into the depths of his eyes. In that glance of hers there was something which Romashov had never seen before--a caressing tenderness, an intensity, and something besides, which he could not interpret. In the mysterious depths of her dark pupils fixed so long and earnestly on him he read a strange, elusive significance, a message uttered in the mysterious language of the soul. "Please--don't let us talk of this to-day! No doubt you will be pleased to hear that I have been watching for you. I know what a coward you are, you see. Don't you dare to look at me like that, now!" She laughed in some confusion and released his hands. "That will do now--Romochka, you awkward creature! again you've forgotten to kiss my hand. That's right! Now the other. But don't forget," she added in a hot whisper, "that to-day is our day. Tsarina Alexandra and her trusty knight, Georgi. Come." "One instant--look here--you'll allow me? It's a very modest gift." "What? Scent? What nonsense is this? No, forgive me; I'm only joking. Thanks, thanks, dear Romochka. Volodya," she called out loudly in an unconstrained tone as she entered the room, "here is another friend to join us in our little picnic."