"If I thought," Sasha faltered, "that it was of consequence to you whether I lived or died, I would be careful indeed."
"But, mon ami, it is of the greatest consequence to me; are you not my protector here in Moscow? Are you not, too, one of our patriots and engaged even now upon a scheme which all Russia shall one day speak of and applaud?"
"Yes—but apart from that—personally, I mean, Vera; if only I might take with me the knowledge that you cared even a little for me, I would go to the gates of hell and return safely."
"Dear Sasha, I like you very much—far better than I used to like you. I suppose one would always be interested in a person who had once been her fiancé."
"Yes, yes, but——"
"But you have been so specially kind and attentive to me that—that you must really return, Sasha; I—I insist."
"Say that it matters to you personally, Vera, and by all the blessed Saints not all the soldiers of Napoleon shall prevent my returning."
"Oh, boaster," said Vera, attempting to withdraw her hand, which he had captured and was now covering with kisses; "I will say no more than this, 'please return safely'!"
Sasha Maximof went out, presently, upon his dangerous errand, and Vera was surprised to find how anxiously she awaited his return. She waited two hours, three, four, and then could bear the strain no longer. She had watched the sky in the direction of the Kremlin, but had not been able to discern that smoke rose from that particular quarter, though in almost every other direction the heavens were obscured by lurid clouds of black vapour, increasing evidence of the activity of the patriotic league.
When four hours had passed and there was still no news of Sasha, Vera could bear her anxiety no longer, and sallied forth to see whether she could hear from others any news of the Kremlin enterprise. She visited one or two of her friends in the Sloboda, but no one had yet received any news.