Gemma suddenly flung back into the basket the cherries she had taken. “Has she been talking to you?” she asked in her turn. “Yes.” “What has she been saying to you?” “She told me that you … that you have suddenly decided to change … your former intention.” Gemma’s head was bent again. She vanished altogether under her hat; nothing could be seen but her neck, supple and tender as the stalk of a big flower. “What intentions?” “Your intentions … relative to … the future arrangement of your life.” “That is … you are speaking … of Herr Klüber?” “Yes.” “Mamma told you I don’t want to be Herr Klüber’s wife?” “Yes.” Gemma moved forward on the seat. The basket tottered, fell … a few cherries rolled on to the path. A minute passed by … another. “Why did she tell you so?” he heard her voice saying. Sanin as before could only see Gemma’s neck. Her bosom rose and fell more rapidly than before. “Why? Your mother thought that as you and I, in a short time, have become, so to say, friends, and you have some confidence in me, I am in a position to give you good advice—and you would mind what I say.” Gemma’s hands slowly slid on to her knees. She began plucking at the folds of her dress. “What advice will you give me, Monsieur Dimitri?” she asked, after a short pause. Sanin saw that Gemma’s fingers were trembling on her knees…. She was only plucking at the folds of her dress to hide their trembling. He softly laid his hand on those pale, shaking fingers. “Gemma,” he said, “why don’t you look at me?” She instantly tossed her hat back on to her shoulder, and bent her eyes upon him, confiding and grateful as before. She waited for him to speak…. But the sight of her face had bewildered, and, as it were, dazed him. The warm glow of the evening sun lighted up her youthful head, and the expression of that head was brighter, more radiant than its glow. “I will mind what you say, Monsieur Dimitri,” she said, faintly smiling, and faintly arching her brows; “but what advice do you give me?” “What advice?” repeated Sanin. “Well, you see, your mother considers that to dismiss Herr Klüber simply because he did not show any special courage the day before yesterday …” “Simply because?” said Gemma. She bent down, picked up the basket, and set it beside her on the garden seat. “That … altogether … to dismiss him, would be, on your part … unreasonable; that it is a step, all the consequences of which ought to be thoroughly weighed; that in fact the very position of your affairs imposes certain obligations on every member of your family …” “All that is mamma’s opinion,” Gemma interposed; “those are her words; but what is your opinion?” “Mine?” Sanin was silent for a while. He felt a lump rising in his throat and catching at his breath. “I too consider,” he began with an effort … Gemma drew herself up. “Too? You too?” “Yes … that is …” Sanin was unable, positively unable to add a single word more.