ar, my body is going. You could not wish to keep me always. And I am
so glad, Ivan! So glad! My own mother has been here, at my side, all
day. So, then, I shall come and comfort you--at least at the first,
while it is most sad for you."

"'At first!' Do you think I can stop wanting you, grieving for
you--ever?"

She could smile, that dying one, in her great wisdom, at this passionate
repudiation of the balm of time. To her, it appeared, the secrets of the
dead had been already revealed. "You are still very young, dear boy.
None of us of the world can escape this pain of parting. 'Death is the
last enemy that shall be overcome.' The time is not long, Ivan, before
you will take on man's full estate. Shall you remember then what I, your
mother, have suffered--through a man?--through your father, Ivan?"

His expression turned to one of surprise. Never had she spoken, even
indirectly, on this subject to him before. But he answered at once:
"Yes, mother. I know. I shall remember."

"Ah, yes--keep that remembrance--all of it! You will be a man of power,
of influence. When you marry a good woman, Ivan, then think of me most
of all. You have in you Gregoriev blood, and all Gregorievs have been
like your father. You must change that, break that tradition. Will you
remember? Will you--pro--"

The speech had been a long one, and, syllable by syllable, her voice had
been growing weaker. Now, with a word half uttered, she settled back,
gasping violently, her eyes half shut. Ivan started to his feet; but
already the nurse was by the bed, forcing cognac and water down the
Princess' throat. Ivan stood still, tightly clasping one of those chilly
hands. He was waiting anxiously for her to speak again; for to him their
talk was not finished. His mother, however, seemed to think differently.
Her hand tightened upon his, but she had the air of one satisfied,
content with all things. The boy, watching her, understood that she
desired nothing more.

Presently the others stole softly in again, and Sophia drew her sister,
by a look, to the bed, beside Ivan, and made one more effort of speech:

"Katrisha--remember--Ivan. He is--mine. When he--goes--to
Petersburg--care for him--for--my sake!"

"Ah, yes, Moussia! Yes! Ivan shall be cared for--well!" murmured
Caroline, brokenly.

Sophia, her dim eyes resting on them both, smiled.

In the midst of this came an interruption. The smile vanished, and a
gleam of dread crossed the face of the