“GEMMA.”
Sanin read this note twice through. Oh, how touchingly sweet and beautiful her handwriting seemed to him! He thought a little, and turning to Emil, who, wishing to give him to understand what a discreet young person he was, was standing with his face to the wall, and scratching on it with his finger-nails, he called him aloud by name.
Emil ran at once to Sanin. “What do you want me to do?”
“Listen, my young friend…”
“Monsieur Dimitri,” Emil interrupted in a plaintive voice, “why do you address me so formally?”
Sanin laughed. “Oh, very well. Listen, my dearest boy—(Emil gave a little skip of delight)—listen; there you understand, there, you will say, that everything shall be done exactly as is wished—(Emil compressed his lips and nodded solemnly)—and as for me … what are you doing to-morrow, my dear boy?”
“I? what am I doing? What would you like me to do?”
“If you can, come to me early in the morning—and we will walk about the country round Frankfort till evening…. Would you like to?”
Emil gave another little skip. “I say, what in the world could be jollier? Go a walk with you—why, it’s simply glorious! I’ll be sure to come!”
“And if they won’t let you?”