What did it matter if she had put her hand on his knee? He
ought to have taken it and patted it. But it was more than likely, as I
knew very well, that he had never even noticed her action. He was
marvellously unaware of all kinds of things, and it was only too
possible that Nina scarcely existed for him. I longed to comfort her,
and I did then a foolish thing. I put out my hand and let it rest for a
moment on her dress.
Instantly she moved away with a sharp little gesture.
Five minutes later I heard a little whisper: "Durdles, it's so hot
here--and I hate these naked men. Shall we go? Ask Vera--"
The first bout had just come to an end. The little man with the swelling
chest was alone, strutting up and down, and answering questions hurled
at him from the gallery.
"Uncle Vanya, where's Michael of Odessa?"
"Ah, he's a soldier in the army now."
"Uncle Vanya... Uncle Vanya... Uncle Vanya..."
"Well, well, what is it?"
"Why isn't _Chornaya Maska_, wrestling to-night?"
"Ah, he's busy."
"What's he busy with?"
"Never mind, he's busy."
"What's he busy with?... Uncle Vanya... Uncle Vanya.
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