The Count rose to his feet as he finished the last sentence.

It seemed as though he were oppressed by the inaction to which he was constrained during the last hours of waiting before the great moment, and he moved nervously, like a man anxious to throw off a burden.
Vjera rose also, with a slow and weary movement.
"It is late," she said.

"I must go home.

Good-night." "No.

I will go with you.