In Petersburg life might be tolerable for a little in the height of the season--for a few weeks of the brilliant Northern winter--but in no other part of Russia could she dream of dwelling.
They sat and talked of their future as lovers will, knowing as little of it as any of us, building up castles in the air, such edifices as we have all constructed, destined, no doubt, to the same rapid collapse as some of us have quailed under.

Paul, with lamentable honesty, talked almost as much of his stupid peasants as of his beautiful companion, which pleased her not too well.

Etta, with a strange persistence, brought the conversation ever back and back to the house in London, the house in Petersburg, the great grim castle in the Government of Tver, and the princely rent-roll.

And once on the subject of Tver, Paul could scarce be brought to leave it.
"I am going back there," he said at length.
"When ?" she asked, with a composure which did infinite credit to her modest reserve.

Her love was jealously guarded.