s something
rugged and dogged which the girl had inherited from her father--that
Slavonic love of pain for its own sake--which makes Russian patriots and
thinkers strange, incomprehensible beings.

"I question it, Catrina," said the elder lady; "but perhaps it is a
matter of health. Dr. Stantovitch told me, quite between ourselves, that
if I had given way to my grief at the time of the trial he would not
have held himself responsible for the consequences."

"Dr. Stantovitch," said Catrina, "is a humbug."

"My dear child!" exclaimed the countess, "he attends all the noble
ladies of Petersburg."

"Precisely," answered Catrina.

She was woman enough to enter into futile arguments with her mother, and
man enough to despise herself for doing it.

"Why do you want to go back to Thors so soon?" murmured the elder lady,
with a little sigh of despair. She knew she was playing a losing game
very badly. She was mentally shuddering at the recollection of former
sleigh-journeying from Tver to Thors.

"Because I am sure father would like us to be there this hard winter."

"But your father is in Siberia," put in the countess, which remark was
ignored.

"Because if we do not go before the snow begins to melt we shall have to
do the journey in carriages over bad roads, which is sure to knock you
up. Because our place is at Thors, and no one wants us here. I hate
Petersburg. It is no use living here unless one is rich and beautiful
and popular. We are none of those things, so we are better at Thors."

"But we have many nice friends here, dear. You will see, this afternoon.
I expect quite a reception. By the way, I hope Kupfer has sent the
little cakes. Your father used to be so fond of them. I wonder if we
could send him a box to Siberia. He would enjoy them, poor man! He might
give some to the prison people, and thus obtain a little alleviation.
Yes; the Comte de Chauxville said he would come on my first
reception-day, and, of course, Paul and his wife must return my call.
They will come to-day. I am anxious to see her. They say she is
beautiful and dresses well."

Catrina's broad white teeth gleamed for a moment in the flickering
firelight, as she clenched them over her lower lip.

"And therefore Paul's happiness in life is assured," she said, in a hard
voice.

"Of course. What more could he want?" murmured the countess, in blissful
ignorance of any irony.

Catrina looked at her mother with a gleam of utter contempt i