Chapter Six“The smell of burning is worse!”
The Duke spoke in a low voice and at the first sound Zoia rose from the armchair where she had been sitting and went to his bedside to say,
“I thought you were ‒ asleep.”
He looked up at her, thinking that her hair silhouetted against the sunlight coming from the windows formed a golden halo around her head.
Then he persisted,
“You are not answering my question. The smell is worse than it has been at any time.”
“I think the wooden houses in the – next street are on fire,” Zoia replied.
“I have already said that you and your father must leave Moscow at once,” the Duke said. “I am sure that the doctor can find somewhere for me to go and I must not keep you here any longer.”
He spoke with an effort, but his tone was firm.
Zoia smiled.
“Do
