He uttered a deep sigh, then shook his head, as if with that he could disperse his gloomy thoughts.
"Home," he called to the driver.
We took the same route that we had come by, and consequently again passed Mariana Ravensky's window. Each of us looked up, but Mariana was no longer there.
"Captain," said Zodomirsky, "will you do me a service?"
"Whatever you wish," I replied.
"I count upon you to tell my poor Mariana the result of this miserable affair."
"I will do so. And when?"
"Now. The sooner the better. Stop!" cried Zodomirsky to the coachman. He stopped, and I descended, and the carriage drove on.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Zodomirsky had hardly entered when he saw me appear in the doorway of the saloon. Without doubt my face was pale, and wore a look of consternation, for Zodomirsky sprang toward me, crying: