“So you are really going to the war, André?” she said sighing.
Liza sighed too.
“Yes, and even tomorrow,” replied her brother.
“He is leaving me here, God knows why, when he might have had promotion …”
Princess Márya did not listen to the end, but continuing her train of thought turned to her sister-in-law with a tender glance at her figure.
“Is it certain?” she said.
The face of the little princess changed. She sighed and said: “Yes, quite certain. Ah! it is very dreadful …”
Her lip descended. She brought her face close to her sister-in-law’s and unexpectedly again began to cry.
“She needs rest,” said Prince Andréy with a frown. “Don’t you, Liza? Take her to your room and I’ll go to Father. How is he? Just the same?”
“Yes, just the same. Though I don’t know what your opinion will be,” answered the princess joyfully.
“And are the hours the same? And the walks in the avenues? And the lathe?” asked Prince Andréy with a scarcely perceptible smile which showed that, in spite of all his love and respect for his father, he was aware of his weaknesses.
“The hours are the same, and the lathe, and also the mathematics and my geometry lessons,” said Princess Márya gleefully, as if her lessons in geometry were among the greatest delights of her life.
When the twenty minutes had elapsed and the time had come for the old prince to get up, Tíkhon came to call the young prince to his father. The