So Tevkin dismissed us all, remaining alone at
the table to chant the three final ballads, which he had
characterized to his children as "charming bits of folk-lore."
When Mrs. Tevkin, the children, and myself were mounting the
stairs leading up from the dining-room, I was by Anna's side, my
nerves as taut as those of a soldier waiting for the command to
charge. I charged sooner than I expected.
"Sasha asked the Four Questions," I found myself saying. "There is
one question which I should like to ask of you, Miss Tevkin."
I said it so simply and at a moment so little suited to a proposal of
marriage that the trend of my words was lost upon her
"Something about Jewish nationalism?" she asked
"About that and about something else."
We were passing through the hallway now. When we entered the
library I took her into a corner, and before we were seated I said:
"Well, my question has really nothing to do with nationalism. It's
quite another thing I want to ask of you. Don't refuse me. Marry
me. Make me happy.
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