But Dmitry would give no decided answer, only that it was wiser, when away from one's home and out with a lady, never to go unarmed. Real anxiety peeped from his cautious grey eyes. Did Paul know how to shoot? And would he be pardoned for asking the Excellency such a question?--but in England, he heard, they dealt little with revolvers--and this was a point to be assured of. Yes, Paul knew how to shoot! The idea made him laugh. But now he came to think of it, he had not had great practice with a revolver, and might not do so well as with a gun or rifle. But the whole thing seemed so absurd, he did not think it of much consequence. "Of course I'll take it to please you, Dmitry," he said, "though I wish you would tell me why." However, Dmitry escaped from the room without further words, his finger upon his lips. The lady was looking more exquisitely white than usual; she wore soft pale mauve, and appeared in Paul's eyes a thing of joy. When they were seated on the launch in their chairs, she let him hold her hand, but she did not talk much at first; only now he understood her silences, and did not worry over them--so great a teacher is love to quicken the perception of man. He sat there, and gazed at her, and tried to realise that it was really he who was experiencing all this happiness. This wonderful, wonderful woman--and he was her lover. At last something in her expression of sadness caught his watchful eye, and an ache came into his mind to know where hers had gone. "Darling," he said tenderly, "mayn't I come there, too?" She turned towards him--a shadow was in her eyes. "No, Paul," she said. "Not there. It is a land of rocks and precipices--not for lovers." "But if you can go--where is the danger for me, my Queen? Or, if there is danger, then it is my place to stand by your side." "Paul, my sweet Paul," she whispered, while her eyes filled with mist, "I was thinking how fair the world could be, perhaps, if fate allowed one to meet one's mate while there was yet time. Surely two souls together, like you and I, might climb to Paradise doing deeds of greatness by the way. But so much of life is like a rushing torrent tearing along making a course for itself, without power to choose through what country it will pass, until it meets the ocean and is swallowed up and lost. If one could only see--only know in time--could he change the course? Alas! who can tell?" Her voice was sad, and as ever it wrung Paul's heart. "My darling one," he said, "don't think of those odd things. Only remember that I am here beside you, and that I love you, love you so--"