ad her
coffee, went to walk; what high lords there were about her, what she had
deigned to say the evening before at table, who she received in the
evening, and, in a word, the conversation of Anna Vlassiefna[73] might
have been a leaf from any memoir of the day, and would be invaluable
now. Marya Ivanofna heard her with great attention.

They went together to the Imperial Gardens, where Anna Vlassiefna told
Marya the history of every walk and each little bridge. Both then
returned home, charmed with one another.

On the morrow, very early, Marya dressed herself and went to the
Imperial Gardens. The morning was lovely. The sun gilded with its beams
the tops of the lindens, already yellowed by the keen breath of autumn.
The large lake sparkled unruffled; the swans, just awake, were gravely
quitting the bushes on the bank. Marya went to the edge of a beautiful
lawn, where had lately been erected a monument in honour of the recent
victories of Count Roumianzeff.[74]

All at once a little dog of English breed ran towards her, barking.
Marya stopped short, alarmed. At this moment a pleasant woman's voice
said--

"Do not be afraid; he will not hurt you."

Marya saw a lady seated on a little rustic bench opposite the monument,
and she went and seated herself at the other end of the bench. The lady
looked attentively at her, and Marya, who had stolen one glance at her,
could now see her well. She wore a cap and a white morning gown and a
little light cloak. She appeared about 50 years old; her face, full and
high-coloured, expressed repose and gravity, softened by the sweetness
of her blue eyes and charming smile. She was the first to break the
silence.

"Doubtless you are not of this place?" she asked.

"You are right, lady; I only arrived yesterday from the country."

"You came with your parents?"

"No, lady, alone."

"Alone! but you are very young to travel by yourself."

"I have neither father nor mother."

"You are here on business?"

"Yes, lady, I came to present a petition to the Tzarina."

"You are an orphan; doubtless you have to complain of injustice or
wrong."

"No, lady, I came to ask grace, and not justice."

"Allow me to ask a question: Who are you?"

"I am the daughter of Captain Mironoff."

"Of Captain Mironoff? He who commanded one of the forts in the Orenburg
district?"

"Yes, lady."

The lady appeared moved.

"Forgive me," she resumed, in a yet softer voice, "if I meddle in your