Things had apparently taken such a turn for Sanin.... He would have felt contempt for himself, if he could have succeeded in concentrating his attention for one instant; but he had not time to concentrate his mind nor to despise himself.

She wasted no time. And it all came from his being so very good-looking! One can but exclaim, No man knows what may be his making or his undoing!

The play was over. Maria Nikolaevna asked Sanin to put on her shawl and did not stir, while he wrapped the soft fabric round her really queenly shoulders. Then she took his arm, went out into the corridor, and almost cried out aloud. At the very door of the box Dönhof sprang up like some apparition; while behind his back she got a glimpse of the figure of the Wiesbaden critic. The 'literary man's' oily face was positively radiant with malignancy.

'Is it your wish, madam, that I find you your carriage?' said the young officer addressing Maria Nikolaevna with a quiver of ill-disguised fury in his voice.

'No, thank you,' she answered ... 'my man will find it. Stop!' she added in an imperious whisper, and rapidly withdrew drawing Sanin along with her.

'Go to the devil! Why are you staring at me?' Dönhof roared suddenly at the literary man. He had to vent his feelings upon some one!

'Sehr gut! sehr gut!' muttered the literary man, and shuffled off.

Maria Nikolaevna's footman, waiting for her in the entrance, found her carriage in no time. She quickly took her seat in it; Sanin leapt in after her. The doors were slammed to, and Maria Nikolaevna exploded in a burst of laughter.

'What are you laughing at?' Sanin inquired.

'Oh, excuse me, please ... but it struck me: what if Dönhof were to have another duel with you ... on my account.... wouldn't that be wonderful?'

'Are you very great friends with him?' Sanin asked.

'With him? that boy? He's one of my followers. You needn't trouble yourself about him!'

'Oh, I'm not troubling myself at all.'

Maria Nikolaevna sighed. 'Ah, I know you're not. But listen, do you know what, you're such a darling, you mustn't refuse me one last request. Remember in three days' time I am going to Paris, and you are returning to Frankfort.... Shall we ever meet again?'

'What is this request?'

'You can ride, of course?'

'Yes.'

'Well, then, to-morrow morning I'll take you with me, and we'll go a ride together out of the town. We'll have splendid horses. Then we'll come home, wind up our business, and amen! Don't be surprised, don't tell me it's a caprice, and I'm a madcap—all that's very likely—but simply say, I consent.'

Maria Nikolaevna turned her face towards him. It was dark in the carriage, but her eyes glittered even in the darkness.

'Very well, I consent,' said Sanin with a sigh.

'Ah! You sighed!' Maria Nikolaevna mimicked him. 'That means to say, as you've begun, you must go on to the bitter end. But no, no.... You're charming, you're good, and I'll keep my promise. Here's my hand, without a glove on it, the right one, for business. Take it, and have faith in its pressure. What sort of a woman I am, I don't know; but I'm an honest fellow, and one can do business with me.'