“What is it? What?” asked both princesses when they saw for a moment at the door Prince Andréy and the figure of the old man in a white dressing gown, spectacled and wigless, shouting in an angry voice.
Prince Andréy sighed and made no reply.
“Well!” he said, turning to his wife.
And this “Well!” sounded coldly ironic, as if he were saying: “Now go through your performance.”
“André, already!” said the little princess, turning pale and looking with dismay at her husband.
He embraced her. She screamed and fell unconscious on his shoulder.
He cautiously released the shoulder she leaned on, looked into her face, and carefully placed her in an easy chair.
“Adieu, Marie,” said he gently to his sister, taking her by the hand and kissing her, and then he left the room with rapid steps.
The little princess lay in the armchair, Mademoiselle Bourienne chafing her temples. Princess Márya, supporting her sister-in-law, still looked with her beautiful eyes full of tears at the door through which Prince Andréy had gone and made the sign of the cross in his direction. From the study, like pistol shots, came the frequent sound of the old man angrily blowing his nose. Hardly had Prince Andréy gone when the study door opened quickly and the stern figure of the old man in the white dressing gown looked out.
“Gone? That’s all right!” said he; and looking angrily at the unconscious little princess, he shook his head reprovingly and slammed the door.