Gina was bending over me.
“Let us leave the place,” she said; “you are a little shaken. A usual
thing the first time. You must accustom yourself.”
A tall woman, draped from head to foot in a long mantle of white fur,
was waiting for us. Her complexion was of a muddy yellowish hue; her
eyes were dull and sodden. It took me more than one glance to make sure
who she was.
We were accompanied to the carriage by a grey-haired gentleman whom—so
far as I could remember—I had never seen before.
I put up my hands to my eyes, unwilling now to look upon the world any
more.
And with this my canticle of love comes to an end.
I had asked Smilowicz to let the Professor know I was going to call upon
him: and I have been there to-day.
What a curious feeling I had in beholding once more those solemn-looking
apartments, lined all round with books up to the very ceiling and the
same beautiful old man, now a little older!
He welcomed me with joy.
“My prodigal daughter,” he said, “is ever so much dearer to me now than
before!”
To have kept complete silence about the rupture which had taken place,
would not have satisfied his kindness.
“You must not fancy I am quite disinterested in wishing you back again,”
he said. “I have something special in view.”
“What may that be, Professor?”
“I have just received permission from the Russian Government to publish
a scientific journal, and it has confirmed me in my status as editor. As
my secretary, you would be useful, and I ask you to accept the
position.”
“I should do so with pleasure, but my occupation prevents me.”
“Your office? You will give it up: it is no fitting situation for you. I
have been thinking it over: this is just what will serve most to bring
your abilities into full play. You will have to do the ‘Intelligence’
columns, make summaries, and write translations—at first. And it will be
necessary to read very, very much. I have by me a great number of new
and highly interesting works, which I must show you.—Well, what do you
say?”