.. March, April...
yes, just about six weeks.... Well, well!"
"Leave me alone, Alexei!... Leave me alone!"
Bohun had with that such a sense of a superhuman effort at control
behind the words that the pain of it was almost intolerable. He wanted,
there and then, to have left the room. It would have been better for him
had he done so. But some force held him in his chair, and, as the scene
developed, be felt as though his sudden departure would have laid too
emphatic a stress on the discomfort of it.
He hoped that in a moment Vera or Uncle Ivan would come and the scene
would end.
Semyonov, meanwhile, continued: "What were those words you used to me
not so long ago? Something about free Russia, I think--Russia moving
like one man to save the world--Russia with an unbroken front.... Too
optimistic, weren't you?"
The padding feet stopped. In a whisper that seemed to Bohun to fill the
room with echoing sound Markovitch said:
"You have tempted me for weeks now, Alexei.... I don't know why you hate
me so, nor why you pursue me. Go back to your own place. If I am an
unfortunate man, and by my own fault, that should be nothing to you who
are more fortunate.
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