"You did not get my letter?" he asked, and not waiting for a reply--which he would not have received, for the princess was unable to speak--he turned back, rapidly mounted the stairs again with the doctor who had entered the hall after him (they had met at the last post station), and again embraced his sister.

"What a strange fate, Masha darling!" And having taken off his cloak and felt boots, he went to the little princess' apartment.

The little princess lay supported by pillows, with a white cap on her head (the pains had just left her).

Strands of her black hair lay round her inflamed and perspiring cheeks, her charming rosy mouth with its downy lip was open and she was smiling joyfully.

Prince Andrew entered and paused facing her at the foot of the sofa on which she was lying.