“You are dazzlingly beautiful,” said my cousin Vera to me, as soon as I entered the room, surveying me from top to toe. “I can quite understand why every one is crazy about you.”
I was immediately surrounded by all our most intimate friends, who lamented in every key our resolve to leave Russia.
“Without you, Kieff will be empty. It will be like a ring which has lost its brightest gem.”
I smiled and sighed, feeling both gratified and mournful.
Who would have thought that after this evening all those who now surrounded me with flattering words would pass me by without a greeting, would turn from me as from some vile and tainted creature?
Bozevsky, pallid and stern, came to me, and bowed low as he kissed my hand.
“Ave! Ave ... Maria!” he said. Then he raised his eyes and looked at me long and fixedly. Despair was so clearly written on his countenance, that I felt afraid lest Vassili should notice it; Alexis read the fear in my eyes, and laughed. “Do you know what I believe?” he said.
I looked at him without understanding.
“I believe,” he continued in scornful tones, “that I am in a trap.”
“A trap? What do you mean?” I gazed questioningly into his face.