“Go to the devil! Why are you staring at me?” Dönhof roared suddenly at the literary man. He had to vent his feelings upon some one! “_Sehr gut! sehr gut!_” muttered the literary man, and shuffled off. Maria Nikolaevna’s footman, waiting for her in the entrance, found her carriage in no time. She quickly took her seat in it; Sanin leapt in after her. The doors were slammed to, and Maria Nikolaevna exploded in a burst of laughter. “What are you laughing at?” Sanin inquired. “Oh, excuse me, please … but it struck me: what if Dönhof were to have another duel with you … on my account…. wouldn’t that be wonderful?” “Are you very great friends with him?” Sanin asked. “With him? that boy? He’s one of my followers. You needn’t trouble yourself about him!” “Oh, I’m not troubling myself at all.” Maria Nikolaevna sighed. “Ah, I know you’re not. But listen, do you know what, you’re such a darling, you mustn’t refuse me one last request. Remember in three days’ time I am going to Paris, and you are returning to Frankfort…. Shall we ever meet again?” “What is this request?” “You can ride, of course?” “Yes.” “Well, then, to-morrow morning I’ll take you with me, and we’ll go a ride together out of the town. We’ll have splendid horses. Then we’ll come home, wind up our business, and amen! Don’t be surprised, don’t tell me it’s a caprice, and I’m a madcap—all that’s very likely—but simply say, I consent.” Maria Nikolaevna turned her face towards him. It was dark in the carriage, but her eyes glittered even in the darkness. “Very well, I consent,” said Sanin with a sigh. “Ah! You sighed!” Maria Nikolaevna mimicked him. “That means to say, as you’ve begun, you must go on to the bitter end. But no, no…. You’re charming, you’re good, and I’ll keep my promise. Here’s my hand, without a glove on it, the right one, for business. Take it, and have faith in its pressure. What sort of a woman I am, I don’t know; but I’m an honest fellow, and one can do business with me.” Sanin, without knowing very well what he was doing, lifted the hand to his lips. Maria Nikolaevna softly took it, and was suddenly still, and did not speak again till the carriage stopped. She began getting out…. What was it? Sanin’s fancy? or did he really feel on his cheek a swift burning kiss? “Till to-morrow!” whispered Maria Nikolaevna on the steps, in the light of the four tapers of a candelabrum, held up on her appearance by the gold-laced door-keeper. She kept her eyes cast down. “Till to-morrow!”