He believed that, for her sake, he
would face all the terrors of hell. The battle came and there were no
terrors of hell--only sick headache, noise, men desperately wounded,
and, once again, his own clumsiness. Then, in that final picture of
Marie Ivanovna and Semyonov he saw his own most miserable exclusion.
In the days that followed there was much work and he was forgotten. He
assisted in the bandaging-room; in later days he was to prove most
efficient and capable, but at first he was shy and nervous and
Semyonov, who seemed always to be present, did not spare him.
Then, quite suddenly, Marie Ivanovna changed. She was kinder to him
than she had ever been, yes, kinder than during those early days in
Petrograd. We all noticed the change in her. When she was with him in
the bandaging-room she whispered advice to him, helped him when she
had a free moment, laughed with him, put him, of course, into a heaven
of delight. How happy at once he was! His clumsiness instantly fell
away from him, he only smiled when Semyonov sneered, his Russian
improved in a remarkable manner.
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