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"Well, she's the second angel, then," said the prince, smiling.

"she calls Mademoiselle Varenka angel number one."

"Oh! Mademoiselle Varenka, she's a real angel, allez," Madame

Berthe assented.

In the arcade they met Varenka herself. She was walking rapidly

towards them carrying an elegant red bag.

"Here is papa come," Kitty said to her.

Varenka made-simply and naturally as she did everything-a

movement between a bow and a curtsey, and immediately began

talking to the prince, without shyness, naturally, as she talked

to everyone.

"Of course I know you; I know you very well," the prince said to

her with a smile, in which Kitty detected with joy that her

father liked her friend. "Where are you off to in such haste?"

"Maman's here," she said, turning to Kitty. "She has not slept

all night, and the doctor advised her to go out. I'm taking her

her work."

"So that's angel number one?" said the prince when Varenka had

gone on.