ared to be publicly
compromised by being seen with such a strange woman, but, smiling in a
condescending, cheerfully familiar way, as though he were soothing a
child, he offered his greetings to the old lady. At the same time, both
he and the rest of the spectators were visibly impressed. Everywhere
people kept pointing to the Grandmother, and talking about her. Many
people even walked beside her chair, in order to view her the better
while, at a little distance, Astley was carrying on a conversation on
the subject with two English acquaintances of his. De Griers was simply
overflowing with smiles and compliments, and a number of fine ladies
were staring at the Grandmother as though she had been something
curious.

"Quelle victoire!" exclaimed De Griers.

"Mais, Madame, c'etait du feu!" added Mlle. Blanche with an elusive
smile.

"Yes, I have won twelve thousand florins," replied the old lady. "And
then there is all this gold. With it the total ought to come to nearly
thirteen thousand. How much is that in Russian money? Six thousand
roubles, I think?"

However, I calculated that the sum would exceed seven thousand
roubles--or, at the present rate of exchange, even eight thousand.

"Eight thousand roubles! What a splendid thing! And to think of you
simpletons sitting there and doing nothing! Potapitch! Martha! See what
I have won!"

"How DID you do it, Madame?" Martha exclaimed ecstatically. "Eight
thousand roubles!"

"And I am going to give you fifty gulden apiece. There they are."

Potapitch and Martha rushed towards her to kiss her hand.

"And to each bearer also I will give a ten-gulden piece. Let them have
it out of the gold, Alexis Ivanovitch. But why is this footman bowing
to me, and that other man as well? Are they congratulating me? Well,
let them have ten gulden apiece."

"Madame la princesse--Un pauvre expatrie--Malheur continuel--Les
princes russes sont si genereux!" said a man who for some time past had
been hanging around the old lady's chair--a personage who, dressed in a
shabby frockcoat and coloured waistcoat, kept taking off his cap, and
smiling pathetically.

"Give him ten gulden," said the Grandmother. "No, give him twenty. Now,
enough of that, or I shall never get done with you all. Take a moment's
rest, and then carry me away. Prascovia, I mean to buy a new dress for
you tomorrow. Yes, and for you too, Mlle. Blanche. Please translate,
Prascovia."

"Merci, Madame," replied Mlle. Bla