nce steadily and disdainfully.

The clock struck a quarter after ten when Boolba made his entrance
amidst a storm of applause.

They had never seen him in such a uniform before. Some thought it was a
new costume which had been sanctioned by the supreme Soviet for its
Commissaries; others that it had been planned especially for the
marriage. Irene alone knew it, and a cold, disdainful smile lit for a
moment her expressionless face.

She had seen Boolba in knee-breeches and white silk stockings before;
she knew the coat of green and gold which the retainers of the house of
Yaroslav wore on state occasions. Boolba was marrying her in his
butler's livery--a delicate piece of vengeance.

The ceremony was short, and, to the girl, unreal. Religious marriages,
though they had not altogether been banned, were regarded by the
official Russia as unnecessary, and a new marriage service had been
designed, which confined the ceremony to the space of a few minutes. The
attempts to abolish marriage altogether had been strenuously opposed,
not so much by the public women who were on the innumerable councils and
committees, but by the wives of the more important members of the
organization.

Boolba was led to her side, and reached out his hand gropingly, and in
very pity of his blindness she took it. Questions were asked him, to
which he responded and similar questions were asked her, to which she
made no reply. The whole ceremony was a farce, and she had agreed to it
only because it gave her a little extra time, and every minute counted.
From the moment the magistrate pronounced the formula which made them,
in the eyes of the Soviet law at any rate, man and wife, Boolba never
loosened his hold of her.

He held her hand in his own big, hot palm, until it was wet and her
fingers lost all feeling. From group to group they moved, and when they
crossed the dancing space of the saloon, the revellers stepped aside to
allow the man to pass. She noticed that in the main they confined
themselves to country dances, some of which were new to her. And all the
time Boolba kept up a continuous conversation in an undertone, pinching
her hand gently whenever he wanted to attract her attention.

"Tell me, my new eyes, my little pigeon of God, what are they doing now?
Do you see Mishka Gurki? She is a silly woman. Tell me, my little pet,
if you see her. Watch her well, and tell me how she looks at me. That
woman is an enemy of the Revolution and a