CHAPTER XIMosgliakoff went out from Maria Alexandrovna’s house to all appearances quite pacified. She had fired his ardour completely. His imagination was kindled.
He did not go to his godfather’s, for he felt the need of solitude. A terrific rush of heroic and romantic thoughts surged over him, and gave him no rest.
He pictured to himself the solemn explanation he should have with Zina, then the generous throbs of his all-forgiving heart; his pallor and despair at the future ball in St. Petersburg; then Spain, the Guadalquiver, and love, and the old dying prince joining their hands with his last blessing. Then came thoughts of his beautiful wife, devoted to himself, and never ceasing to wonder at and admire her husband’s heroism and exalted refinement of taste and conduct. Then, among o
