In the flat I found only Uncle Ivan sitting very happily by himself at the table playing patience.  He was dressed very smartly in his English black suit and a black bow tie.  He behaved with his usual elaborate courtesy to me but, to my relief, on this occasion, he spoke Russian.

It appeared that the Revolution had not upset him in the least.  He took, he assured me, no interest whatever in politics.  The great thing was “to live inside oneself,” and by living inside oneself he meant, I gathered, that one should be entirely selfish.  Clothes were important, and food and courteous manners, but he must say that he could not see that one would be very much worse off even though one were ruled by the Germans—­one might, indeed, be a great deal more comfortable.  And as to this Revolution he couldn’t really understand why people made such a fuss.  One class or another class what did it matter? (As to this he was, I fear, to be sadly undeceived.  He little knew that, before the year was out, he would be shovelling snow in the Morskaia for a rouble an hour.) So centred was he upon himself that he did not notice that I looked ill.  He offered me a chair, indeed, but that was simply his courteous manners.  Very ridiculous, he thought, the fuss that Nicholas made about the Revolution—­very ridiculous the fuss that he made about everything....

Alexei had been showing Nicholas how ridiculous he was.

“Oh, has he?” said I.  “How’s he been doing that?”

Laughing at him, apparently.  They all laughed at him.  It was his own fault.

“Alexei’s living with us now, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” I said, “what’s he doing that for?”

“He wanted to,” said Uncle Ivan simply.  “He’s always done what he’s wanted to, all his life.”

“It makes it a great many of you in one small flat.”

“Yes, doesn’t it?” said Uncle Ivan amiably.  “Very pleasant—­although, Ivan Andreievitch, I will admit to you quite frankly that I’ve always been frightened of Alexei.  He has such a very sharp tongue.  He discovers one’s weak spots in a marvellous manner....  We all have weak spots you know,” he added apologetically.

“Yes, we have,” I said.

Then, to my relief, Vera came in.  She was very sweet to me, expressing much concern about my illness, asking me to stay and have my meal with them....  She suddenly broke off.  There was a letter lying on the table addressed to her.  I saw at once that it was in Nina’s handwriting.

“Nina!  Writing to me!” She picked it up, stood back looking at the envelope before she opened it.  She read it, then turned on me with a cry.

“Nina!...  She’s gone!”

“Gone!” I repeated, starting at once.

“Yes....  Read!” She thrust it into my hand.

In Nina’s sprawling schoolgirl hand I read: 

Dear Vera—­I’ve left you and Nicholas for ever....  I have been thinking of this for a long time, and now Uncle Alexei has shown me how foolish I’ve been, wanting something I can’t have.  But I’m not a child any longer.  I must lead my own life....  I’m going to live with Boris who will take care of me.  It’s no use you or any one trying to prevent me.  I will not come back.  I must lead my own life now.  Nina.