For myself I was sorry when I had to leave her. She was the only person in Moscow to whom I could speak without restraint; a fact that made our interviews so welcome that I was loath to end this one.
It was getting dusk when I left and as I walked home I was thoughtful and preoccupied. The question of Olga's safety was pressing very hardly on me and made me extremely anxious. The more I saw of her the more eager I was to get her out of harm's way; and the consciousness that she must share the consequences of any disaster that might happen to me, were I discovered, was pressing upon me with increasing severity. I was beginning to anticipate more vividly, moreover, the coming of some such disaster. The time was passing very quickly. It was getting on for nearly three weeks since the Nihilist meeting, and I knew that my Nihilist "allies" would be growing anxious for a sign of my zeal. They were probably well aware that I was doing nothing to redeem my pledge.
There was also the undeniable danger inseparably connected with the distasteful intrigue with Paula Tueski. I had so neglected her in my character of lover that I was hourly expecting some proof of her indignation. I had only seen her twice in the three weeks; and each time in public; and though Olga and she had interchanged visits, I knew perfectly well that she was not the woman to take neglect passively.
I blamed myself warmly, too, for my own inactivity. My whole policy had been so to try and gain time, and yet I had made no use of it, except to get into broils which had increased the already bewildering complications.
That this would be the effect of my quarrel with Devinsky and Durescq, I could not doubt when I came to think the matter over in cool blood. I had been the means of both of them being ruined; and naturally every friend they had in Russia would take part against me. I knew that Durescq had friends among the most powerful circles in Russia, and I had nothing to oppose to their anger save the poor position of a lieutenant in a marching regiment and a past that was full of blackguardism and evil repute. Personally this was all nothing to me; but when I thought of the indirect results it might have for Olga it troubled and worried me deeply.
Everything pointed to one conclusion—that Olga should leave Russia while she could do so in safety. I was meditating on these things when a girl stopped me suddenly, asking if I were Lieutenant Petrovitch. She then gave me a scrap of paper; and I glanced at and read it.
"The old rendezvous, at once. Urgent. P.T."
I questioned the girl as to who gave it to her, and where the person was; but getting no satisfactory account, dismissed her with a few kopecks.
It beat me. Obviously it was from Paula Tueski. Equally obviously it was an appointment at which she had apparently something to say of importance. But where the deuce the "old rendezvous" was I knew no more than the wind.
I am not one to waste time over the impossible; and as I certainly could not go to a place I did not know of, I tore the letter into shreds and went on home.