He moved cautiously across the room so that the jingling of his spurs
was scarcely audible. Suddenly Sarudine opened his eyes. Tanaroff stood
still, but Sarudine had already guessed his intention, and the former
knew that he had been detected in the act. Now something strange
occurred. Sarudine shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep. Tanaroff
tried to persuade himself that this was the case, while yet perfectly
well aware that each was watching the other; and so, in an awkward,
stooping posture, he crept out of the room on tiptoe, feeling like a
convicted traitor.
The door closed gently behind him. In such wise were the bonds of
friendship that had bound these two men together broken once and for
all. They both felt that a gulf now lay between them that could never
be bridged; in this world henceforth they could be nothing to each
other.
In the outer room Tanaroff breathed more freely. He had no regret that
all was at end between himself and the man with whom for many years his
life had been spent.
"Look here!" said he to the servant as if, for form's sake, it behoved
him to speak, "I am now going. If anything should happen--well ... you
understand ..."
"Very good, sir," replied the soldier, looking scared.
"So now you know.... And see that the bandage is frequently changed."
He hurried down the steps, and, after closing the garden-gate, he drew
a deep breath when he saw before him the broad, silent street. It was
now nearly dark, and Tanaroff was glad that no one could notice his
flushed face.
"I may even be mixed up in this horrid affair myself," he thought, and
his heart sank as he approached the boulevard. "After all, what have I
got to do with it?"
Thus he sought to pacify himself, endeavouring to forget how Ivanoff
had flung him aside with such force that he almost fell down.
"Deuce take it! What a nasty business! It's all that fool of a
Sarudine! Why did he ever associate with such canaille?"
The more he brooded over the whole unpleasantness of this incident, the
more his commonplace figure, as he strutted along in his tightly-
fitting breeches, smart boots, and white tunic, assumed a threatening
aspect.
In every passer-by he was ready to detect ridicule and scorn; indeed,
at the slightest provocation he would have wildly drawn his sword.
However, he met but few folk that, like furtive shadows, passed swiftly
along the outskirts of the darkening boulevard. On reaching home he
became somewhat calmer, and then he thought again of what Ivanoff had
done.