"Did you not give me the order yourself?"
"Absolutely," he replied.
Zodomirsky threw himself in a chair by the table, in which position he faced the door. Pravdine placed himself near the window, and I near the fire. A presentiment weighed down our spirits. A mournful silence reigned.
Suddenly the door opened and a woman muffled in a mantle which streamed with water, and with the hood drawn over her face, pushed past the servant, and stood before us. She threw back the hood, and we recognized Mariana Ravensky!
Pravdine and I stood motionless with astonishment. Zodomirsky sprang toward her.
"Great heavens! what has happened, and why are you here?"
"Why am I here, George?" she cried. "Is it you who ask me, when this night is perhaps the last of your life? Why am I here? To say farewell to you. It is only two hours since I saw you, and not one word passed between us of to-morrow. Was that well, George?"
"But I am not alone here," said Zodomirsky in a low voice. "Think, Mariana. Your reputation—your fair fame—"
"Are you not all in all to me, George? And in such a time as this, what matters anything else?"
She threw her arm about his neck and pressed her head against his breast.