Lensky frowned.
Then Nikolai laid his hand on his arm. "Shall I receive Perfection in your place?" asked he. "I will tell him that you are tired from the journey; he might come later."
At his son's touch Lensky started. His gloomy face lightened. "No, no, my boy; best of thanks, Colia, I am going myself. It only vexed me at first to be torn away from our cosy circle. We will make it short--farewell."
With that he went.
Mascha and Nikolai still remained at table. They looked at each other piercingly. Each wished to read the thoughts of the other from the face.
"How do you find him?" asked Mascha at length.
"Very changed."
"Is he not?" Mascha fought back tears. "It is terrible to look on. He is not to be recognized; five months ago he was quite different. If one only could prevent him from playing. I am convinced he will experience something annoying."
"Yes, if one could only prevent him," murmured Nikolai.
Meanwhile Lensky had entered the drawing-room. A correctly dressed, well-bred looking blond man came to meet him, with the exclamation: "Welcome, heartily welcome to Rome!" and stretched out both hands to him.