in returning. It seemed a kind of madness. There were pleasanter places—and it brought her early life and associations too much before her. She was not fond of reminiscences.
Occasionally as she lay upon the sofa, wrapped in a silk coverlet and gazing at the cheerful fire that blazed in the fireplace, she dropped into an uneasy sleep. This made her nerves recover their tone, and even somewhat raised her spirits. She was anxious and very much alarmed, but not in despair. About four o'clock her husband came into her room. His face was ashy and he held a dispatch in his hand.
"The Grand Duke arrives within half an hour. This dispatch has been delayed several hours. I go to the train now to meet him."
Madame Volkonsky sat upright on the sofa.
"Will it make—any difference to us?" she asked.
Volkonsky shrugged his shoulders.
"It will simply bring matters to a crisis. It may restrain Pembroke—if not, it is his opportunity to ruin me. I shall of course tell his royal highness and his suite of the concert, and they may choose to go. Russians must always be amused. Perhaps you will have the honor of singing for his royal highness as well as the President." His tone as he said this was not pleasant.
"I met the old Colonel Berkeley just now. He asked me how Eliza was. Is it that he is a fool or that he wishes to be impertinent?"
