to do so, and, answering in Russian to the French speech of the princess, she said, dwelling with emphasis on her words:
"I thank you very much, my dear, for your attention, but as to Prince Mikháylo not being able to come, what is the use mentioning it? He has always a great deal to do. And what pleasure could it be for him to sit down with an old woman?"
And, not giving the princess a chance to contradict her words, she continued:
"Tell me, how are your children, my dear?"
"The Lord be praised, ma tante, they are growing, studying, and having a good time — especially Etienne, the eldest, is getting to be so mischievous that there is no getting on with him; but he is bright, un garçon qui promet. Just imagine, mon cousin," she continued, turning exclusively to papa, because grandmother, who was not in the least interested in the children of the princess, but wanted to praise her own grandchildren, carefully took my poem from under the box, and began to unfold the paper: "Just imagine, mon cousin, what he did a few days ago — "
The princess leaned over to papa, and began to tell him something with great animation. Having finished her story, which I did not hear, she burst out laughing and, looking interrogatively at papa, said:
"What do you think of that boy, mon cousin? He deserved a whipping; but that trick of his was so bright and amusing, that I forgave him, mon cousin."
And the princess fixed her eyes upon grandmother, and continued to smile, without saying anything.
"Do you beat your children, my dear?" asked grandmother, significantly raising her eyebrows, and emphasizing the word beat.
"Oh, ma bonne tante," answered the princess in a kind voice, casting a rapid glance upon papa, "I know your
