“Yes.”
“I saw him. Almost as I entered he received your letter, saying that you forgave him, that you would call to-night after eight o'clock to tell him so, and to urge on his marriage with Olga. When he had read the letter—I interpreted it to him; and then I found out that he was a coward. His terror was abject—despicable; he implored my help; he started at every sound.”
“To-night he'll sleep quietly, Anthony.”
“To-night he has gone. Before morning he will be on the sea.”
The sound of the wind came to them again, and Sergius understood why Anthony had said: “Rough at sea to-night.”
Suddenly Sergius moved; he unclosed his fingers: the ruins of the china figure fell from them in a dust of blue and white upon the mantelpiece.
“No—it's too late, Sergius. He went at eleven.”
Sergius stood quite still.
“You came here to-night to keep me here till he had gone?”
“Yes.”