Something of her bravery and grandeur and beauty must have been felt by them all at that moment. Nina realised it. … She told me that her own fear left her altogether when she saw how Vera was facing them. She was suddenly calm and quiet and very amused.
The student officer seemed now to be quite at home. He had taken a great many notes down in a little book, and looked very important as he did so. His chubby face expressed great self-satisfaction. He talked half to himself and half to Vera. “Yes … Yes … quite so. Exactly. And your husband is not yet at home, Madame Markovitch. … Nu da. … Of course these are very troublesome times, and as you say things have to move in a hurry.
“You’ve heard perhaps that Nicholas Romanoff has abdicated entirely—and refused to allow his son to succeed. Makes things simpler. … Yes. … Very pleasant pictures you have—and Ostroffsky—six volumes. Very agreeable. I have myself acted in Ostroffsky at different times. I find his plays very enjoyable. I am sure you will forgive us, Madame, if we walk through your charming flat.”
But indeed by this time the soldiers themselves had begun to roam about on their own account. Nina remembers one soldier in especial—a large dirty fellow with ragged moustache—who quite frankly terrified her. He seemed to regard her with particular satisfaction, staring at her, and, as it were, licking his lips over her. He wandered about the room fingering things, and seemed to be immensely interested in Nicholas’s little den, peering through the glass window that there was in the door and rubbing the glass with his finger. He presently pushed the door open and soon they were all in there.
Then a characteristic thing occurred. Apparently Nicholas’s inventions—his little pieces of wood and bark and cloth, his glass bottles, and tubes—seemed to them highly suspicious. There was laughter at first, and then sudden silence. Nina could see part of the room through the open door and she watched them as they gathered round the little table, talking together in excited whispers. The tall, rough-looking fellow who had frightened her before picked up one of the tubes, and then, whether by accident or intention, let it fall, and the tinkling smash of the glass frightened them all so precipitately that they came tumbling out into the larger room. The big fellow whispered something to the student, who at once became more self-important than ever, and said very seriously to Vera:
“That is your husband’s room, Madame, I understand?”
“Yes,” said Vera quietly, “he does his work in there.”
“What kind of work?”
“He is an inventor.”
“An inventor of what?”
“Various things. … He is working at present on something to do with the making of cloth.”
Unfortunately this serious view of Nicholas’s inventions suddenly seemed to Nina so ridiculous that she tittered. She could have done nothing more regrettable. The student obviously felt that his dignity was threatened. He looked at her very severely:
“This is no laughing matter,” he said. He himself then got up and went into the inner room. He was there for some time, and they could hear him fingering the tubes and treading on the broken glass. He came out again at last.
He was seriously offended.
“You should have told us your husband was an inventor.”
“I didn’t think it was of importance,” said Vera.
“Everything is of importance,” he answered. The atmosphere was now entirely changed. The soldiers were angry—they had, it seemed, been deceived and treated like children. The melancholy fellow with the black beard looked at Vera with eyes of deep reproach.
“When will your husband return?” asked the student.
“I am afraid I don’t know,” said Vera. She realised that the situation was now serious, but she could not keep her mind upon it. In that house on the Quay what was happening? What had, perhaps, already happened? …
“Where has he gone?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t he tell you where he was going?”
“He often does not tell me.”
“Ah, that is wrong. In these days one should always say where one is going.”
He stood up very stiff and straight. “Search the house,” he said to his men.
Suddenly then Vera’s mind concentrated. It was as though, she told me “I came back into the room and saw for the first time what was happening.”
“There is no one in the rest of the flat,” she said, “and nothing that can interest you.”
“That is for me to judge,” said the little officer grimly.
“But I assure you there is nothing,” she went on eagerly. “There is only the kitchen and the bathroom and the five bedrooms.”
“Whose bedrooms?” said the officer.
“My husband’s, my own, my sister’s, my uncle’s, and an Englishman’s,” she answered, colouring a little.
“Nevertheless we must do our duty. … Search the house,” he repeated.
“But you must not go into our bedrooms,” she said, her voice rising. “There is nothing for you there. I am sure you will respect our privacy.”
“Our orders must be obeyed,” he answered angrily.
“But—” she cried.
“Silence, Madame,” he said, furiously, staring at her as though she were his personal, deadly enemy.
“Very well,” said Vera proudly. “Please do as you wish.”
The officer walked past her with his head up, and the soldiers followed him, their eyes malicious and inquisitive and excited. The sisters stood together waiting. Of course the end had come. They
