h to shout, "_Davai!_" (Here!) at random. The
call was answered from the Admiralty Square; a sled dashed up the
Corokhovaya and halted beside him. Taking the single seat, he lifted her
gently upon his lap and held her very tenderly in his arms.

"Where?" asked the istoostchik.

Boris was about to answer "Anywhere!" but the lady whispered, in a voice
of silver sweetness, the name of a remote street, near the Smolnoi
Church.

As the Prince wrapped the ends of his sable pelisse about her, he
noticed that her furs were of the common foxskin, worn by the middle
classes. They, with her heavy boots and the threadbare cloth of her
garments, by no means justified his first suspicion,--that she was a
_grande dame_, engaged in some romantic "adventure." She was not more
than nineteen or twenty years of age, and he felt--without knowing what
it was--the atmosphere of sweet, womanly purity and innocence which
surrounded her. The shyness of a lost boyhood surprised him.

By the time they reached the Litenie, she had fully recovered her
consciousness and a portion of her strength. She drew away from him as
much as the narrow sled would allow.

"You have been very kind, Sir, and I thank you," she said; "but I am now
able to go home without your further assistance."

"By no means, Lady!" said the Prince. "The streets are rough, and here
are no lamps. If a second accident were to happen, you would be
helpless. Will you not allow me to protect you?"

She looked him in the face. In the dusky light she saw not the peevish,
weary features of the worldling, but only the imploring softness of his
eyes, the full and perfect honesty of his present emotion. She made no
further objection: perhaps she was glad that she could trust the elegant
stranger.

Boris, never before at a loss for words, even in the presence of the
Empress, was astonished to find how awkward were his attempts at
conversation. She was presently the more self-possessed of the two, and
nothing was ever so sweet to his ears as the few commonplace remarks she
uttered. In spite of the darkness and the chilly air, the sled seemed to
fly like lightning. Before he supposed they had made half the way, she
gave a sign to the istoostchik, and they drew up before a plain house of
squared logs.

The two lower windows were lighted, and the dark figure of an old man,
with a skull-cap upon his head, was framed in one of them. It vanished
as the sled stopped; the door was thrown ope