Markovitch, keeping a considerable distance
from him, followed. For a moment I was held by the crowd around me, and
when at last I got free Semyonov had disappeared, and I could just see
Markovitch turning the corner of the palace.
I ran across the grass, trying to call out, but I could not hear my own
voice. I turned the corner, and instantly I was in a strange place of
peace. The old building with its wooden lattices and pillars stood
melancholy guard over the dead pond on whose surface some fragments of
ice still lay. There was no sun, only a heavy, oppressive air. All the
noise was muffled as though a heavy door had swung to.
They were standing quite close to me. Semyonov had turned and faced us
both. I saw him smile, and his lips moved. A moment later I saw
Markovitch fling his hand forward, and in the air the light on the
revolver twinkled. I heard no sound, but I saw Semyonov raise his arm,
as though in self-defence. His face, lifted strangely to the bare
branches, was triumphant, and I heard quite clearly the words, like a
cry of joy and welcome:
"At last!... At last!"
He tumbled forward on his face.
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