e reporter had a vital reason for seeing her immediately, a vital
reason for all concerned, above all in this moment when the Nihilists
were culminating their plans, a vital reason for her and for him,
equally menaced with death, to talk with her and to renew the
propositions he had made a few minutes before the poisoning and which
she had not wished to hear him talk about, in fearful pity for him or in
defiance of him. Where was Natacha? He thought maybe she was trying
to rejoin Annouchka, and there were reasons for that, both if she were
innocent and if she were guilty. But where was Annouchka? Who could say!
Gounsovski perhaps. Rouletabille jumped into an isvo, returning from the
Point empty, and gave Gounsovski's address. He deigned then to recall
that he had been invited that same day to dine with the Gounsovskis.
They would no longer be expecting him. He blamed himself.

They received him, but they had long since finished dinner.

Monsieur and Madame Gounsovski were playing a game of draughts under
the lamp. Rouletabille as he entered the drawing-room recognized the
shining, fattish bald head of the terrible man. Gounsovski came to him,
bowing, obsequious, his fat hands held out. He was presented to Madame
Gounsovski, who was besprinkled with jewels over her black silk gown.
She had a muddy skin and magnificent eyes. She also was tentatively
effusive. "We waited for you, monsieur," she said, smirking timidly,
with the careful charm of a woman a little along in years who relies
still on infantine graces. As the recreant young man offered his
apologies, "Oh, we know you are much occupied, Monsieur Rouletabille.
My husband said that to me only a moment ago. But he knew you would come
finally. In the end one always accepts my husband's invitation." She
said this with a fat smile of importance.

Rouletabille turned cold at this last phrase. He felt actual fear in
the presence of these two figures, so atrociously commonplace, in their
horrible, decent little drawing-room.

Madame continued:

"But you have had rather a bad dinner already, through that dreadful
affair at General Trebassof's. Come into the dining-room." "Ah, so
someone has told you?" said Rouletabille. "No, no, thanks; I don't need
anything more. You know what has happened?"

"If you had come to dinner, perhaps nothing would have happened at all,
you know," said Gounsovski tranquilly, seating himself again on the
cushions and considering his game of