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"Papa," said his beautiful daughter in the same tone as before,

"we shall be late."

"Well, au revoir! Good-by! You hear her?"

"Then tomorrow you will speak to the Emperor?"

"Certainly; but about Kutuzov, I don't promise."

"Do promise, do promise, Vasili!" cried Anna Mikhaylovna as he

went, with the smile of a coquettish girl, which at one time

probably came naturally to her, but was now very ill-suited to

her careworn face.

Apparently she had forgotten her age and by force of habit

employed all the old feminine arts. But as soon as the prince had

gone her face resumed its former cold, artificial expression. She

returned to the group where the vicomte was still talking, and

again pretended to listen, while waiting till it would be time to

leave. Her task was accomplished.

CHAPTER V