mber nothing. Only I know
that I was actually living over again those awful days in the
forest--the heat, the flies, the smells, the glassy sheen of the trees,
the perpetual rumble of the guns, the desolate whine of the shells--and
then Marie's death, Trenchard's sorrow, Trenchard's death, that last
view of Semyonov... and I felt that I was being made to remember it all
for a purpose, as though my old friend, rich now with his wiser
knowledge, was whispering to me, "All life is bound up. You cannot leave
anything behind you; the past, the present, the future are one. You had
pushed us away from you, but we are with you always for ever. I am your
friend for ever, and Marie is your friend, and now, once more, you have
to take your part in a battle, and we have come to you to share it with
you. Do not be confused by history or public events or class struggle or
any big names; it is the individual and the soul of the individual alone
that matters. I and Marie and Vera and Nina and Markovitch--our love for
you, your love for us, our courage, our self-sacrifice, our weakness,
our defeat, our progress--these are the things for which life exists;
it exists as a training-ground for the immortal soul...."

With a sweep of colour the stage broke into a mist of movement. Masked
and hooded figures in purple and gold and blue and red danced madly off
into a forest of stinking, sodden leaves and trees as thin as
tissue-paper burnt by the sun. "Oh--aye! oh--aye! oh--aye!" came from
the wounded, and the dancers answered, "Tra-la-la-la! Tra-la-la-la,'"
The golden screens were drawn forward, the lights were up again, and the
whole theatre was stirring like a coloured paper ant heap.

Outside in the foyer I found Lawrence at my elbow.

"Go and see her," he whispered to me, "as soon as possible! Tell
her--tell her--no, tell her nothing. But see that she's all right and
let me know. See her to-morrow--early!"

I could say nothing to him, for the Baron had joined us.

"Good-night! Good-night! A most delightful evening!... Most amusing!...
No, thank you, I shall walk!"

"Come and see us," said the Baroness, smiling.

"Very soon," I answered. I little knew that I should never see either of
them again.

III

I awoke that night with a sudden panic that I must instantly see Vera.
I, even in the way that one does when, one is only half awake, struggled
out of bed and felt for my clothes. Then I remembered and climbed back
again, but