"Yes, Sergius. Friendship is something. Let us thank God, not even that
he is safe, but that you--you are safe--and that Olga--"
"Hush! Has she gone with him?"
"She will meet him. He has sworn to marry her."
The hand of Sergius moved to his left breast. Anthony's glowing eyes
were fixed upon him.
"Ah, yes, Sergius," Anthony cried. "Put that cursed, cursed thing down,
put it away. Now it can never wreck your life and my peace."
Sergius drew out the revolver slowly and carefully. Again the mist rose
around him. But it was no longer white; it was scarlet.
There was a report. Anthony fell, without a word, a cry.
Then Sergius bent down, and listened to the silence of his friend's
heart--the long silence of the man who intervened.