The joyous verses ring in my ears like the shrieks of maleficent Furies, scourging me with nefarious counsels and diabolic commands....
And while little Tioka laughs and claps his hands, I, his mother, sink ever deeper and deeper into the gulf of despair; and crime, like a sea of mire, closes its corrupt waves over my head.
XXXVI
Everything came about as Prilukoff had foreseen. Kamarowsky found me the following evening alone with Tioka at the Bristol Hotel. He overwhelmed me with reproaches and with endearments.
I maintained a mysterious silence, which he interpreted merely as the caprice of a spoiled child; nor did he take umbrage at it. He was too happy at having found me to care to quarrel either with the Fates or with me. All he said was: “Marie, I shall not leave you again.” And the promise sounded almost like a threat.
For some time Prilukoff gave no sign. I might have thought he had forgotten me. He had fixed a definitive space of time: ten days.
On the eighth day he sent me a note, telling me to come to the Hotel Victoria that evening at nine o'clock. He would then provide we with what was needful. I was not to fail—or he would come himself.
I dined with Paul Kamarowsky as usual; then, pleading a headache, I retired to my room at eight o'clock.
Half an hour later a closed carriage was conveying me to the Hotel Victoria.