The old lady exclaimed and threw up her arms. Prince Lykoff raised his head from the pillows, and in astonishment repeated: "The negro Ibrahim?"
"Dear brother!" said the old lady in a voice full of tears. "Do not destroy your darling daughter, do not deliver Natashinka into the claws of the black devil."
"But how then?" replied Gavril Afanassievitch, "refuse the Tzar, who in return promises us his protection to me and all our house."
"What!" exclaimed the old Prince, who was wide awake now. "Natasha, my granddaughter, to be married to a bought negro?"
"He's of good birth," said Gavril Afanassievitch, "he is the son of a negro Sultan. He was not taken prisoner by the Mussulmen but sold at Constantinople. Our ambassador bought him and presented him to Peter. The negro's eldest brother came to Russia with a handsome ransom and——"
"We have the legend of Bova Koroleviteh and Eruslana Lasarevitch."
"Gavril Afanassievitch," added the old lady, "tell us rather how you replied to the Tzar's proposal."
"I said that he was in authority over us, and that it was our duty to submit to him in everything."
At that moment a noise was heard behind the door. Gavril Afanassievitch went to open it, but something obstructed; he gave a hard push, the door opened, and he beheld Natasha unconscious lying on the blood-smeared floor.