“They probably recognized that I am French, by my name,” replied Mademoiselle Bourienne blushing.

Princess Márya, with the paper in her hand, rose from the window and with a pale face went out of the room and into what had been Prince Andréy’s study.

“Dunyásha, send Alpátych, or Drónushka, or somebody to me!” she said, “and tell Amálya Karlóvna not to come to me,” she added, hearing Mademoiselle Bourienne’s voice. “We must go at once, at once!” she said, appalled at the thought of being left in the hands of the French.

“If Prince Andréy heard that I was in the power of the French! That I, the daughter of Prince Nikoláy Andréevich Bolkónski, asked General Rameau for protection and accepted his favor!” This idea horrified her, made her shudder, blush, and feel such a rush of anger and pride as she had never experienced before. All that was distressing, and especially all that was humiliating, in her position rose vividly to her mind. “They, the French, would settle in this house: M.