"In some way," he mumbled, as if he had not understood or could not
believe his ears.
"Some unforeseen event, a sheer accident might have done that," I went
on. "Or, as she characteristically put it to me, the folly or weakness
of some unhappy fellow-revolutionist."
"Folly or weakness," he repeated bitterly.
"She is a very generous creature," I observed after a time. The man
admired by Victor Haldin fixed his eyes on the ground. I turned away and
moved off, apparently unnoticed by him. I nourished no resentment of
the moody brusqueness with which he had treated me. The sentiment I was
carrying away from that conversation was that of hopelessness. Before
I had got fairly clear of the raft of chairs and tables he had rejoined
me.
"H'm, yes!" I heard him at my elbow again. "But what do you think?"
I did not look round even.
"I think that you people are under a curse."
He made no sound. It was only on the pavement outside the gate that I
heard him again.
"I should like to walk with you a little."
After all, I preferred this enigmatical young man to his celebrated
compatriot, the great Peter Ivanovitch. But I saw no reason for being
particularly gracious.
"I am going now to the railway station, by the shortest way from here,
to meet a friend from England," I said, for all answer to his unexpected
proposal.
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