, which made something glow and
expand within his chest. It was a delicious feeling, even though it did
cut one's breath short now and then. Ecstatically he drank in the sound
of her tranquil, seductive talk full of innocent gaiety and of spiritual
quietude. His passion appeared to him to flame up and envelop her in
blue fiery tongues from head to foot and over her head, while her soul
reposed in the centre like a big white rose....

"H'm, good this. He told me many other things like that. But this is the
one I remember. He himself remembered everything because these were the
last memories of that woman. He was seeing her for the last time though
he did not know it then.

"M. De Castel returned, breaking into that atmosphere of enchantment
Tomassov had been drinking in even to complete unconsciousness of the
external world. Tomassov could not help being struck by the distinction
of his movements, the ease of his manner, his superiority to all the
other men he knew, and he suffered from it. It occurred to him that
these two brilliant beings on the sofa were made for each other.

"De Castel sitting down by the side of the lady murmured to her
discreetly, 'There is not the slightest doubt that it's true,' and
they both turned their eyes to Tomassov. Roused thoroughly from his
enchantment he became self-conscious; a feeling of shyness came over
him. He sat smiling faintly at them.

"The lady without taking her eyes off the blushing Tomassov said with a
dreamy gravity quite unusual to her:

"'I should like to know that your generosity can be supreme--without a
flaw. Love at its highest should be the origin of every perfection.'

"Tomassov opened his eyes wide with admiration at this, as though her
lips had been dropping real pearls. The sentiment, however, was
not uttered for the primitive Russian youth but for the exquisitely
accomplished man of the world, De Castel.

"Tomassov could not see the effect it produced because the French
officer lowered his head and sat there contemplating his admirably
polished boots. The lady whispered in a sympathetic tone:

"'You have scruples?'

"De Castel, without looking up, murmured: 'It could be turned into a
nice point of honour.'

"She said vivaciously: 'That surely is artificial. I am all for natural
feelings. I believe in nothing else. But perhaps your conscience...'

"He interrupted her: 'Not at all. My conscience is not childish. The
fate of those people is of no mili