Page:The Novels of Ivan Turgenev (volume X).djvu/133

Rh next night, as I was approaching the old oak, Alice moved to meet me, as if I were an old friend. I was not afraid of her as I had been the day before, I was almost rejoiced at seeing her; I did not even attempt to comprehend what was happening to me; I was simply longing to fly farther to interesting places. Alice's arm again twined about me, and we took flight again. 'Let us go to Italy,' I whispered in her ear. 'Wherever you wish, my dear one,' she answered solemnly and slowly, and slowly and solemnly she turned her face towards me. It struck me as less transparent than on the eve; more womanlike and more imposing; it recalled to me the being I had had a glimpse of in the early dawn at parting. 'This night is a great night,' Alice went on. 'It comes rarely — when seven times thirteen. . .' At this point I could not catch a few words. 'To-night we can see what is hidden at other times.' 'Alice!' I implored, 'but who are you, tell me at last?'