“Leave the dead to me,” said Prilukoff.
He entered and shut the door.
········
Thus, unconscious and unwilling, I descended yet another step down the ladder of infamy.
Shrinking and reluctant I trailed my white garments into defilement, sinking with every step deeper into the mire which was soon to engulf me; the mire which was to reach my proud heart, my pearl-encircled throat, my exalted brow on which nobility had set its seal in vain.
It was about that time, I remember, that Delphinus, a renowned fortune-teller, came to Moscow. One morning, having nothing else to do, I went with the smiling, skeptical Elise to consult him in his luxurious apartments.
He took both my hands and gazed for a long time at a crystal ball which was before him. Then he said: “Woman, your life is a tragedy.”
I smiled, incredulous yet disturbed. “Pray say rather a comedy, if you can.”
He shook his head. “A tragedy,” he repeated gloomily. Then he uttered several commonplaces which might apply to any other woman as well as to me. Finally, with knitted brows, he looked still more closely into the crystal. “Two men,” he said, speaking slowly, “have yet to enter into your life. One will bring salvation, the other ruin. Choose the one, and you will attain happiness; choose the other and you will perish.”
He paused. “You will choose the other,” he said, and released my hand.