"
"I am afraid not. I have tried it."
But Vjera would not be discouraged and laid hold of the bell-handle again,
pulling it out as far as it would come and letting it fly back again with
a snap. The same results followed as when Schmidt had made the same
attempt. There was a distant tinkling followed by total silence. Vjera
repeated the operation.
"You cannot do more than I have done," said her companion, leaning his
back against the door and watching her movements.
"I ought to do more."
"Why, Vjera?"
"Because he is more to me than to you or to any of the rest," she answered
in a low voice.
"Do you mean to say that you love the Count?" inquired Schmidt, surprised
beyond measure by the girl's words and rendered thereby even more tactless
than usual.
But Vjera said nothing, having been already led into saying more than she
had wished to say. She pulled the bell again.
"I had never thought of that," remarked the Cossack in a musing tone. "But
he is mad, Vjera, the poor Count is mad. It is a pity that you should love
a madman--"
"O, don't, Herr Schmidt--please don't!" cried Vjera, imploring him to be
silent as much with her eyes as with her voice.
"No, but really," continued the other, as though talking to himself,
"there are things that go beyond all imagination in this world. Now, who
would ever have thought of such a thing?"
This time Vjera did not make any answer, nor repeat her request. But as
she tugged with all her might at the brass handle, the Cossack heard a
quick sob, and then another.
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