did not tremble, the voice was steady. "He
is to give you a supper on this night? He told you so? Spoke about your
manhood--at fourteen?" she added, in a whisper, to herself.

"So he said, Madame. And I did not like it. My father is a very strange
man."

"Then, you do not _want_ this supper?" her gaze at him was intense, but
the dignity had fully returned to it.

To her secret consternation, however, Ivan hesitated.
"I--no--yes--Mother, ought I not to want it?"

For some seconds Sophia stared at him, trying to fathom the exact
purport of his question. Then her whole aspect changed. She took his two
hands and drew them to her breast, and kissed and bowed her head upon
them; and presently, though Ivan was clinging to her and demanding
explanation, she rose, hastily, and left the room.

Her going was impulsive. That which prompted it had come to her in a
sudden flash. Into Ivan's wistful question she had discerned some sense
of loyalty towards the other parent; and, in that instant, she was
ashamed. After all, he was Michael's own son. Must she, then, be sure
that he sought to do the boy harm? Nay, for once in her life she should
be brave again. First of all, she must try, as never before, to trust
the father of her son. Secondly, she must also trust that son. If Ivan
found himself, at the promised supper, in moral danger, he would
instinctively know it. Then, if he made no effort to escape, of what use
protection, or love, or fear, on her part, forevermore? No feminine
force could keep him from going, eventually, down the Gregoriev road.

With such reasoning did the woman try to control the secret, rising
terror that was on her. It would not be wholly downed; yet she succeeded
in keeping her own counsel during the next two days, and in that won a
victory greater than she knew. For the Princess never guessed that
during this time Michael waited in hourly, ironic expectation of some
sort of protest on her part. And neither master nor mistress suspected
that, on Wednesday evening, the serfs, kept informed by Piotr, Alexei,
and Masha of a little more than all, held solemn conclave in their own
house at the back of the inner court-yard. There Michael their lord was
duly cursed, their lady in the same way pitied; and, above all, they
discussed the possibility of giving the young master some sort of
protection at that impending festivity. The matter of open protest to
Prince Michael was actually brought up. For, alas! the