Vera had started at the sound of the officer's voice. "Sasha, it is Paul de Tourelle," she said; "there is nothing to fear, let him enter."
"What, and these others also?" asked Sasha.
"I will answer for their good behaviour, Monsieur," said Paul. "Perhaps Mademoiselle will accord me the honour of a few moments conversation while these gentlemen rest themselves in the hall."
"Yes, I will speak with you—come in here!" Vera indicated the room which she had quitted a moment before. Maximof took his stand at the door. He waved his hand to the two old servants. "Rebyáta," he said, "you can lower your muskets but remain here." The two young Frenchmen stood at the stove to warm themselves. Sasha heard their conversation, which they took no pains to conceal from his ears.
"Our little Paul has found a friend it seems," said one, laughing; "he is indeed a wonderful man for the ladies. This will console him for Clotilde's absence."
"Curses upon the Governor-General, he might at least have left us the ladies of the Comédie Française!" said the other. "I had looked forward to seeing my little Jeanne. Maybe the Russian wench was lying, for reasons of her own."
"Beware what you say here, Monsieur," said Sasha angrily, "or your friend may find you no longer waiting when he comes forth."
"Pardon, a thousand pardons, Monsieur; I forgot that you spoke our language," said the officer politely; "do me the favour to regard my foolish words as unsaid."
The conversation was conducted in whispers from this point and Sasha heard no more of it.
Meanwhile Paul de Tourelle, so soon as the door was closed behind him, had made as though he would take Vera's hand and draw her to him, but she waved him away.