Princess Márya pressed her head against his hand, trying to hide her sobs and tears.
He moved his hand over her hair.
“I have been calling you all night …” he brought out.
“If only I had known …” she said through her tears. “I was afraid to come in.”
He pressed her hand.
“Weren’t you asleep?”
“No, I did not sleep,” said Princess Márya, shaking her head.
Unconsciously imitating her father, she now tried to express herself as he did, as much as possible by signs, and her tongue too seemed to move with difficulty.
“Dear one … Dearest …” Princess Márya could not quite make out what he had said, but from his look it was clear that he had uttered a tender caressing word such as he had never used to her before. “Why didn’t you come in?”
“And I was wishing for his death!” thought Princess Márya.
He was silent awhile.
“Thank you … daughter dear! … for all, for all … forgive! … thank you! … forgive! … thank you! …” and tears began to flow from his eyes. “Call Andrúsha!” he said suddenly, and a childish, timid expression of doubt showed itself on his face as he spoke.
He himself seemed aware that his demand was meaningless. So at least it seemed to Princess Márya.