So Gemma talked, hesitating and smiling and dropping her voice or stopping altogether every time any one met them or passed by. And Sanin listened ecstatically, enjoying the very sound of her voice, as the day before he had gloated over her handwriting. “Mamma is very much distressed,” Gemma began again, and her words flew very rapidly one after another; “she refuses to take into consideration that I dislike Herr Klüber, that I never was betrothed to him from love, but only because of her urgent entreaties…. She suspects—you, Dimitri; that’s to say, to speak plainly, she’s convinced I’m in love with you, and she is more unhappy about it because only the day before yesterday nothing of the sort had occurred to her, and she even begged you to advise me…. It was a strange request, wasn’t it? Now she calls you … Dimitri, a hypocrite and a cunning fellow, says that you have betrayed her confidence, and predicts that you will deceive me….” “But, Gemma,” cried Sanin, “do you mean to say you didn’t tell her?…” “I told her nothing! What right had I without consulting you?” Sanin threw up his arms. “Gemma, I hope that now, at least, you will tell all to her and take me to her…. I want to convince your mother that I am not a base deceiver!” Sanin’s bosom fairly heaved with the flood of generous and ardent emotions. Gemma looked him full in the face. “You really want to go with me now to mamma? to mamma, who maintains that … all this between us is impossible—and can never come to pass?” There was one word Gemma could not bring herself to utter…. It burnt her lips; but all the more eagerly Sanin pronounced it. “Marry you, Gemma, be your husband—I can imagine no bliss greater!” To his love, his magnanimity, his determination—he was aware of no limits now. When she heard those words, Gemma, who had stopped still for an instant, went on faster than ever…. She seemed trying to run away from this too great and unexpected happiness! But suddenly her steps faltered. Round the corner of a turning, a few paces from her, in a new hat and coat, straight as an arrow and curled like a poodle—emerged Herr Klüber. He caught sight of Gemma, caught sight of Sanin, and with a sort of inward snort and a backward bend of his supple figure, he advanced with a dashing swing to meet them. Sanin felt a pang; but glancing at Klüber’s face, to which its owner endeavoured, as far as in him lay, to give an expression of scornful amazement, and even commiseration, glancing at that red-cheeked, vulgar face, he felt a sudden rush of anger, and took a step forward. Gemma seized his arm, and with quiet decision, giving him hers, she looked her former betrothed full in the face…. The latter screwed up his face, shrugged his shoulders, shuffled to one side, and muttering between his teeth, “The usual end to the song!” (Das alte Ende vom Liede!)—walked away with the same dashing, slightly skipping gait.