a constrained smile, totally different from her former effusiveness. "Very glad to make your acquaintance," she added, addressing the prince. "You have been long expected, prince."
"How could you have sent word to the princess that we were not going?" again demanded the painter, in his hoarse whisper, and still more irritated because he could not express himself as he wished.
"Oh, good heavens! I thought that we were not going," said his wife, testily.
"How?.... when?" ....
He coughed, and made a gesture of despair with his hand.
The prince raised his hat, and went away with his daughter.
"Oh! okh!" he said, with a deep sigh. "Oh, these poor creatures!"
"Yes, papa," said Kitty; "and you must know that they have three children, and no servant, and almost no means. He receives a pittance from the Academy," she continued eagerly, so as to conceal the emotion caused by the strange change in Anna Pavlovna, in her behavior to her. "Ah, there is Madame Stahl!" said Kitty, directing his attention to a wheeled-chair, in which was lying a human form, wrapped in gray and blue, propped up by pillows, and shaded by an umbrella. It was Madame Stahl. A solemn and sturdy German laborer was pushing her chair. Beside her walked a light-complexioned Swedish count, whom Kitty knew by sight. Several people had stopped near the wheeled-chair, and were gazing at this lady as if she were some curiosity.
The prince approached her, and Kitty instantly noticed in her father's eyes that ironical gleam which had troubled her before. He went up to Madame Stahl, and addressed her in that excellent French which so few Russians nowadays are able to speak, and was extremely polite and friendly.
"I do not know whether you still recollect me, but it is my duty to bring myself to your remembrance, in order that I may thank you for your kindness to my
