“No, my dear. I’ve only seen him once. I was judging, like most people, by his portraits. You have never seen him very close, have you?”
“I have often wished to,” returned Helga, with another glance. But my restlessness was so insistent that this lightness jarred upon me, and I remained almost moodily silent until the end of a meal that seemed unendurably wearisome. I was consumed with my anxiety to question Helga about Vastic—her Nihilistic associates and her connexion with them.
“Can I speak to you alone, at once, mademoiselle?” I said as we rose from the table.
“Yes.” The answer came after a pause which made me think she was going to put me off. We went into the room where I had first been shown. “I have not been at Brabinsk for some time and wish to see to certain things.”
“I am sorry to detain you, but I cannot wait. I wish you to tell me the nature of your and M. Boreski’s relations with this man Vastic and his associates.”
“So, then, you are interested in part of my story—that part which you think might bring me under suspicion?”
“For God’s sake don’t let us fence with words. I am too anxious. You know that you are doing me a gross injustice in saying such a thing, and that my sole motive is concern for you—you yourself, and the danger which may threaten you.”
The earnestness of my manner made her earnest too.
“How should I know that?”
“Because I swear it; because you can read it in my acts. You must feel it; I am sure you do.”