She laid her fingers in his almost unconsciously.

Then, as though he were in a holy place, he took off his hat, and stood bareheaded before her.
"If I forsake you, Vjera," he said very solemnly, "if I forsake you ever, in riches or in poverty, in honour or in disrepute, may the God of heaven forsake me in the hour of my death." He swore the great oath deliberately, in a strong, clear voice, and then was silent for a moment, his eyes turned upwards, his attitude unchanged.
Then he raised the poor girl's thin hand to his lips and kissed it, three times, reverently, as devout persons kiss the relics of departed saints.
"Good-night, Vjera," he said, quietly.

"We shall meet to-morrow." Vjera was awed by his solemn earnestness, and strongly moved by his action.
"Good-night," she answered, lovingly.

"Heaven bless you and keep you safe." She looked for a last time into his face, as though trying to impress upon her mind the memories of that fateful evening, and then she withdrew into the house, shutting the street door behind her.
The Count stood still for several minutes, unconsciously holding his hat in his hand.

At last he covered his head and walked slowly away in the direction of his home.