When he had folded and sealed this note, Sanin was on the point of ringing for the waiter and sending it by him…. “No!” he thought, “it would be awkward…. By Emil? But to go to the shop, and seek him out there among the other employés, would be awkward too. Besides, it’s dark by now, and he has probably left the shop.” Reflecting after this fashion, Sanin put on his hat, however, and went into the street; he turned a corner, another, and to his unspeakable delight, saw Emil before him. With a satchel under his arm, and a roll of papers in his hand, the young enthusiast was hurrying home. “They may well say every lover has a lucky star,” thought Sanin, and he called to Emil. The latter turned and at once rushed to him. Sanin cut short his transports, handed him the note, and explained to whom and how he was to deliver it…. Emil listened attentively. “So that no one sees?” he inquired, assuming an important and mysterious air, that said, “We understand the inner meaning of it all!” “Yes, my friend,” said Sanin and he was a little disconcerted; however, he patted Emil on the cheek…. “And if there should be an answer…. You will bring me the answer, won’t you? I will stay at home.” “Don’t worry yourself about that!” Emil whispered gaily; he ran off, and as he ran nodded once more to him. Sanin went back home, and without lighting a candle, flung himself on the sofa, put his hands behind his head, and abandoned himself to those sensations of newly conscious love, which it is no good even to describe. One who has felt them knows their languor and sweetness; to one who has felt them not, one could never make them known. The door opened—Emil’s head appeared. “I have brought it,” he said in a whisper: “here it is—the answer!” He showed and waved above his head a folded sheet of paper. Sanin leaped up from the sofa and snatched it out of Emil’s hand. Passion was working too powerfully within him: he had no thought of reserve now, nor of the observance of a suitable demeanour—even before this boy, her brother. He would have been scrupulous, he would have controlled himself—if he could! He went to the window, and by the light of a street lamp which stood just opposite the house, he read the following lines:— I beg you, I beseech you—_don’t come to see us, don’t show yourself all day to-morrow_. It’s necessary, absolutely necessary for me, and then everything shall be settled. I know you will not say no, because … “GEMMA.” Sanin read this note twice through. Oh, how touchingly sweet and beautiful her handwriting seemed to him! He thought a little, and turning to Emil, who, wishing to give him to understand what a discreet young person he was, was standing with his face to the wall, and scratching on it with his finger-nails, he called him aloud by name. Emil ran at once to Sanin. “What do you want me to do?” “Listen, my young friend…” “Monsieur Dimitri,” Emil interrupted in a plaintive voice, “why do you address me so formally?”