“And how are you?” asked the princess, with a sigh. “I heard that you lost your wife. How sad!”
“Yes, princess; it was very sad for me.”
“What can we do? We must bear our sufferings meekly. Without God's will not one hair falls from a man's head.”
“Yes, princess.”
The princess's sighs and kindly, affable smile were met by the doctor coldly and drily. And his expression was cold and dry.
“What shall I say to him?” thought the princess.
“What ages since we last met!” she said at last. “Five whole years ! How much has happened, what changes have taken place— it frightens me to think of them! You know that I'm married . . . from a countess become a princess. And that I've already managed to part from my husband. . . .”
“Yes, I heard.”
“God sent me many trials. You have no doubt heard, too, that I am nearly ruined. To pay my unhappy husband's debts they sold Dubovki and Kiriakovo and Sophino. I have kept only Baranovo and Mikhailtsevo. It frightens me to look back; how many changes; how many misfortunes; how many mistakes!”
“Yes, princess, the mistakes were many.”
The princess reddened. She knew her mistakes; they were so intimate that she only could think and
