THE SWEET-SCENTED NAME
Turandina listened very attentively to what Peter Antònovitch had to say. And then she asked:
"What is a passport?"
"Oh, a passport," said he, "don't you know, is—a passport. A paper on which is written your name and your father's name, your age, your rank. You can't possibly live anywhere without a passport."
"If it's necessary," said Turandina calmly, "then, of course, it ought to be in my little bag. Look, there's the bag, take it and see if the passport is inside."
And in the wonderful little bag there was found a passport—a small book in a brown cover, which had been obtained in the province of Astrakhan, in which was inscribed the name of the Princess Tamara Timofeevna Turandon, seventeen years of age, and unmarried. Everything was in order: the seal, the official signature, the signature of the princess herself, and so on, just as in all passport books.
Peter Antònovitch looked at Turandina and smiled:
"So that's who you are," said he, "you are a princess, and your name is Tamara."
But Turandina shook her head.
"No," said she, "I've never been called
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