“Monsieur Dimitri,” she began in a cautious voice, “I have been wanting all day long to give you something … but I could not make up my mind to; and just now, seeing you, quite unexpectedly again, I thought that it seems it is fated” … Gemma was forced to stop at this word. She could not go on; something extraordinary happened at that instant. All of a sudden, in the midst of the profound stillness, over the perfectly unclouded sky, there blew such a violent blast of wind, that the very earth seemed shaking underfoot, the delicate starlight seemed quivering and trembling, the air went round in a whirlwind. The wind, not cold, but hot, almost sultry, smote against the trees, the roof of the house, its walls, and the street; it instantaneously snatched off Sanin’s hat, crumpled up and tangled Gemma’s curls. Sanin’s head was on a level with the window-sill; he could not help clinging close to it, and Gemma clutched hold of his shoulders with both hands, and pressed her bosom against his head. The roar, the din, and the rattle lasted about a minute…. Like a flock of huge birds the revelling whirlwind darted revelling away. A profound stillness reigned once more. Sanin raised his head and saw above him such an exquisite, scared, excited face, such immense, large, magnificent eyes—it was such a beautiful creature he saw, that his heart stood still within him, he pressed his lips to the delicate tress of hair, that had fallen on his bosom, and could only murmur, “O Gemma!” “What was that? Lightning?” she asked, her eyes wandering afar, while she did not take her bare arms from his shoulder. “Gemma!” repeated Sanin. She sighed, looked around behind her into the room, and with a rapid movement pulling the now faded rose out of her bodice, she threw it to Sanin. “I wanted to give you this flower.” He recognised the rose, which he had won back the day before…. But already the window had slammed-to, and through the dark pane nothing could be seen, no trace of white. Sanin went home without his hat…. He did not even notice that he had lost it. XXI It was quite morning when he fell asleep. And no wonder! In the blast of that instantaneous summer hurricane, he had almost as instantaneously felt, not that Gemma was lovely, not that he liked her—that he had known before … but that he almost … loved her! As suddenly as that blast of wind, had love pounced down upon him. And then this senseless duel! He began to be tormented by mournful forebodings. And even suppose they didn’t kill him…. What could come of his love for this girl, another man’s betrothed? Even supposing this “other man” was no danger, that Gemma herself would care for him, or even cared for him already … What would come of it? How ask what! Such a lovely creature!…