and turning their mounts toward us sat watching the warrior
On my way home I noticed that something was lacking. I have not seen her! She is ill! Surely I have not fallen in love with her in real earnest? . . . What nonsense!
AT eleven o'clock in the morning -- the hour at which Princess Ligovski is usually perspiring in the Ermolov baths -- I walked past her house. Princess Mary was sitting pensively at the window; on seeing me she sprang up.
I entered the ante-room, there was nobody there, and, availing myself of the freedom afforded by the local customs, I made my way, unan- nounced, into the drawing-room.
Princess Mary's charming countenance was shrouded with a dull pallor. She was standing by the pianoforte, leaning one hand on the back of an arm-chair; her hand was very faintly trembling. I went up to her softly and said:
She lifted a deep, languid glance upon me and shook her head. Her lips were about to utter something, but failed; her eyes filled with tears; she sank into the arm-chair and buried her face in her hands.
"What is the matter with you?" I said, taking her hand.
"You do not respect me! . . . Oh, leave me!" . . .
I took a few steps. . . She drew herself up in the chair, her eyes sparkled.