His large, glittering, masculine eyes were so close to hers that she saw nothing but them.

“Natáli?” he whispered inquiringly while she felt her hands being painfully pressed. “Natáli?”

“I don’t understand. I have nothing to say,” her eyes replied.

Burning lips were pressed to hers, and at the same instant she felt herself released, and Elèn’s footsteps and the rustle of her dress were heard in the room. Natásha looked round at her, and then, red and trembling, threw a frightened look of inquiry at Anatole and moved toward the door.

“One word, just one, for God’s sake!” cried Anatole.

She paused. She so wanted a word from him that would explain to her what had happened and to which she could find no answer.