“If you please, your excellency, Pétrusha has brought some papers,” said one of the nursemaids to Prince Andréy who was sitting on a child’s little chair while, frowning and with trembling hands, he poured drops from a medicine bottle into a wineglass half full of water.

“What is it?” he said crossly, and, his hand shaking unintentionally, he poured too many drops into the glass. He threw the mixture onto the floor and asked for some more water. The maid brought it.

There were in the room a child’s cot, two boxes, two armchairs, a table, a child’s table, and the little chair on which Prince Andréy was sitting. The curtains were drawn, and a single candle was burning on the table, screened by a bound music book so that the light did not fall on the cot.

“My dear,” said Princess Márya, addressing her brother from beside the cot where she was standing, “better wait a bit⁠ ⁠… later⁠ ⁠…”