her voice.
“Your position is doubly terrible, dear princess,” said Mademoiselle Bourienne after a pause. “I understand that you could not, and cannot, think of yourself, but with my love for you I must do so. … Has Alpátych been to you? Has he spoken to you of going away?” she asked.
Princess Márya did not answer. She did not understand who was to go or where to.
“Is it possible to plan or think of anything now? Is it not all the same?” she thought, and did not reply.
“You know, chère Marie ,” said Mademoiselle Bourienne, “that we are in danger—are surrounded by the French. It would be dangerous to move now. If we go we are almost sure to be taken prisoners, and God knows …”
Princess Márya looked at her companion without understanding what she was talking about.
“Oh,