I thought of the
Cossacks yesterday who had assured the people that they would not
fire--well, that impulse had passed. Protopopoff and his men had
triumphed.
We were all now in the shallows on the other bank of the canal. The
prostitute, who was still at our side, hesitated for a moment, as though
she were going to speak. I think she wanted to ask whether she might
walk with us a little way. Suddenly she vanished without sound, into the
black shadows.
"Come along," said Vera. "We shall be dreadfully late." She seemed to be
mastered by an overpowering desire not to be left alone with Lawrence.
She hurried forward with Nina, and Lawrence and I came more slowly
behind. We were now in a labyrinth of little streets and black
overhanging flats. Not a soul anywhere--only the moonlight in great
broad flashes of light--once or twice a woman hurried by keeping in the
shadow. Sometimes, at the far end of the street, we saw the shining,
naked Nevski.
Lawrence was silent, then, just as we were turning into the square where
the Michailovsky Theatre was he began:
"What's the matter?... What's the matter with her, Durward? What have I
done?"
"I don't know that you've done anything," I answered.
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