Then he again opened his eyes and said something none of them could understand for a long time, till at last Tíkhon understood and repeated it. Princess Márya had sought the meaning of his words in the mood in which he had just been speaking. She thought he was speaking of Russia, or Prince Andréy, of herself, of his grandson, or of his own death, and so she could not guess his words.

“Put on your white dress. I like it,” was what he said.

Having understood this Princess Márya sobbed still louder, and the doctor taking her arm led her out to the veranda, soothing her and trying to persuade her to prepare for her journey. When she had left the room the prince again began speaking about his son, about the war, and about the Emperor, angrily twitching his brows and raising his hoarse voice, and then he had a second and final stroke.