It was all utterly still, not a sound nor a
movement anywhere; only one figure, that of a woman, was coming slowly
towards me. I felt, as one always does at the beginning of a Russian
spring, a strange sense of expectation. Spring in Russia is so sudden
and so swift that it gives an overwhelming impression of a powerful
organising Power behind it. Suddenly the shutters are pulled back and
the sun floods the world! Upon this afternoon one could feel the urgent
business of preparation pushing forward, arrogantly, ruthlessly. I don't
think that I had ever before realised the power of the Neva at such
close quarters. I was almost ashamed at the contrast of its struggle
with my own feebleness.
I saw then that the figure coming towards me was Nina.
III
As she came nearer I saw that she was intensely preoccupied. She was
looking straight in front of her but seeing nothing. It was only when
she was quite close to me that I saw that she was crying. She was making
no sound. Her mouth was closed; the tears were slowly, helplessly,
rolling down her cheeks.
She was very near to me indeed before she saw me; then she looked at me
closely before she recognised me.
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