"Stepan, bring the basket here." He looked at her with devotion in his eyes, and without letting go her hand, which she allowed to remain unresistingly in his, he said hurriedly-- "Oh, if you knew all I have been thinking about this morning--if you only knew! But of this, later on." "Yes, later on. Look, here comes my lord and master. Let go my hand. How strange you look to-day! I even think you have grown handsome." Nikoläiev now came up to the window. He frowned, and greeted Romashov in a rather cool and reserved way. "Come, Shurochka," he said to his wife, "what in the world are you thinking about? You must both be mad. Only think, if the Commander were to see us. Good-bye, Romashov; come and see us." "Yes, come and see us, Yuri Alexievich," repeated Shurochka. She left the window, but returned almost at once and whispered rapidly to Romashov. "Don't forget us. You are the only man here whom I can associate with--as a friend--do you hear? And another thing. Once for all I forbid you to look at me with such sheep's eyes, remember that. Besides, you have no right to imagine anything. You are not a coxcomb yet, you know." VII At 3.30 p.m. Lieutenant Federovski, the Adjutant of the regiment, drove up to Romashov's house. He was a tall, stately, and (as the ladies of the regiment used to say) presentable young man, with freezingly cold eyes and an enormous moustache that almost grazed his shoulder. Towards the younger officers he was always excessively polite, but, at the same time, officially correct in his conduct. He was not familiar with any one, and had a very high opinion of himself and his position. Nearly all the captains flattered and paid court to him. As he entered the door, he rapidly scanned with his blinking eyes the whole of the scanty furniture in Romashov's room. The latter, who lay resting on his bed, jumped off, and, blushing, began to button up his undress tunic. "I am here by orders of the commander, who wishes to speak to you," said Federovski in a dry tone. "Be good enough to dress and accompany me as soon as possible." "I shall be ready at once. Shall I put on undress or parade uniform?" "Don't, please, stand on ceremony. A frock-coat, if you like, that would be quite sufficient. Meanwhile, with your permission, I will take a seat." "Oh, I beg your pardon--will you have some tea?" said Romashov fussily. "No, thanks. My time is short, and I must ask you to be as quick as possible about changing your clothes." And without taking off his cloak or gloves, he sat down whilst Romashov changed his clothes in nervous haste and with painful glances at his not particularly clean shirt. Federovski sat the whole time with his hands resting on the hilt of his sabre, as motionless as a stone image. "I suppose you do not happen to know why I am sent for?" The Adjutant shrugged his shoulders.