" "No, but do promise! I won't let you go! My dear benefactor..." "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.