“Won’t you tell me where you are going?” she said quietly.
“Oh, just out on business,” I said irritably. “I have a matter to attend to.”
With this illuminating information I went off. I had the impression that she was restraining herself with a great effort. Well, it was certainly trying.
I paid the proprietors of the cab a cheque for two hundred francs. Then it was necessary to go round and inform the police that everything had been settled. Then it seemed fit to promote a good feeling all round by ordering a bottle of champagne. Then one must drink to my success as a chauffeur in another bottle. When I reached home it was after midnight and I was terribly tired. The excitement of the day had worn me out; and, besides, there was the worry over the examination in the morning. The wine too had made me very drowsy.
Anastasia lay silent on her bed. She did not move as I entered so I supposed she slept. Making as little noise as possible, I undressed. As I blew out the candle my last impression was of the exceeding cosiness of our little room. Particularly I noted our new dressing-table of walnut, the armoire with mirror doors, and the fresh curtains of cream cretonne with a design of roses. “It’s home,” I thought, “and how glad I am to get back to it!” Then I crept between the sheets, and feeling as if I could sleep for ever and ever, I launched into a troubled sea of dreams.
“What’s the matter?”
It seemed as if some one was shaking me furiously. Opening my eyes I saw that it was Anastasia.
“What, is it? Fire? Burglars?” I exclaimed. I had always made up my mind in the case of the latter I would lock the bedroom door and interview them through the keyhole. I am not a coward, but I have a very strongly developed sense of self-preservation.
“No, no; something more serious than that,” she answered in a choking voice.