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"But you despise me. You who are so pure can never understand

being so carried away by passion. Oh, only my poor mother..."

"I quite understand," answered Princess Mary, with a sad smile.

"Calm yourself, my dear. I will go to my father," she said, and

went out.

Prince Vasili, with one leg thrown high over the other and a

snuffbox in his hand, was sitting there with a smile of deep

emotion on his face, as if stirred to his heart's core and

himself regretting and laughing at his own sensibility, when

Princess Mary entered. He hurriedly took a pinch of snuff.

"Ah, my dear, my dear!" he began, rising and taking her by both

hands. Then, sighing, he added: "My son's fate is in your hands.

Decide, my dear, good, gentle Marie, whom I have always loved as

a daughter!"

He drew back and a real tear appeared in his eye.