“What I said I still believe,” Nicholas answered very quietly. “Leave Russia alone, Alexei—and leave me alone, too.”
“I’m not touching you, Nicholas,” Semyonov answered, laughing softly.
“Yes you are—you know that you are. I’m not angry—not yet. But it’s unwise of you—unwise....”
“Unwise—how?”
“Never mind. ‘Below the silent pools there lie hidden many devils.’ Leave me alone. You are our guest.”
“Indeed, Nicholas,” said Semyonov, still laughing, “I mean you no harm. Ask our friend Durward here whether I ever mean any one any harm. He will, I’m sure, give me the best of characters.”
“No—no harm perhaps—but still you tease me.... I’m a fool to mind.... But then I am a fool—every one knows it.”
All the time he was looking with his pathetic eyes and his pale face at Vera.
Vera said again, very low, almost in a whisper: “Uncle Alexei... please.”
“But really, Nicholas,” Semyonov went on, “you under-rate yourself. You do indeed. Nobody thinks you a fool. I think you a very lucky man. With your talents—”