Yes, undoubtedly she was the queen of spades or the queen of hearts. Perhaps she was hiding in another pack, or in other cards, but he did not know what she looked like. The difficulty was that Peredonov had never seen her. It would be useless to ask Varvara--she would tell lies. At last Peredonov thought he would burn the whole pack. Let them all burn! If they creep into the cards to his ruin, then it's their own fault. Peredonov chose a time when Varvara was not at home. The stove in the parlour was alight--and he threw all the cards into the stove. With a crackling the marvellous pale red flowers opened out--they burned but were black at the edges. Peredonov looked in horror at these flaming blossoms. The cards contracted, bent over and moved as if they were trying to escape from the stove. Peredonov caught hold of the poker and began to beat the lighted cards with it. There was a shower of tiny bright sparks on all sides--and suddenly in a bright, wild riot of sparks the Princess rose out of the fire, a little ash-grey woman, bestrewn with small dying sparks; she wailed piercingly in her shrill voice and hissed and spit on the flames. Peredonov fell backward. He cried out in horror. The darkness embraced him, tickled him, and laughed with a thousand jarring little noises. CHAPTER XXVI Sasha was fascinated by Liudmilla, but something prevented him from talking about her to Kokovkina. He felt somehow ashamed, and sometimes he came to be afraid of her visits. His heart would feel faint and his eyebrows contract involuntarily when he saw her rose-yellow hat pass quickly under his window. Nevertheless he awaited her with anxiety and impatience--he was sad when she did not come for a long time. Contradictory feelings were mingled in his soul, feelings dark and vague--morbid because premature, and sweet because morbid. Liudmilla had called neither yesterday nor to-day. Sasha exhausted himself with waiting and had already ceased to expect her. Suddenly she came. He grew radiant and rushed forward to kiss her hand. "Well, have you forgotten me?" he reproached her. "I haven't seen you for two days." She laughed happily and a sweet, languid and piquant odour of Japanese _funkia_ emanated from her, as if it came from her light hair. Liudmilla and Sasha went out for a walk in the town. They invited Kokovkina but she would not go. "How could an old woman like me go out with you? I'd only get in your way. You'd better go out by yourselves." "But we'll get into mischief," laughed Liudmilla. * * * * * The warm, languid air caressed them and called to remembrance the irrevocable. The sun, as if diseased, burned dimly and lividly in the pale, tired sky. The dry leaves lay humbly on the dark earth, dead. Liudmilla and Sasha went into a hollow. It was cool, refreshing, almost damp there--a tender autumn weariness reigned there within its shady slopes.