Sanine

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.