"My God!" exclaimed Tatiana Afanassievna; "how will she bear it? At any rate, let me prepare her for this."
Gavril Afanassievitch consented, and returned to the drawing-room.
"Thank God!" he said to Ibrahim; "the crisis is over. Natalia is much better. I do not like to leave our dear guest, Mr. Korsakoff, here alone> or I would take you upstairs to get a glimpse of your bride."
Korsakoff congratulated Gavril Afanassievitch, begged them not to put themselves out on his account, assured them that he was obliged to go, and rushed into the lobby, whither be refused to allow his host to follow him.
Meanwhile, Tatiana Afanassievna hastened to prepare the invalid for the arrival of her terrible visitor. Entering the apartments, she sat down breathless by the bedside and took Natalia by the hand. But before she had time to say a word, the door opened.
"Who has come in?" Natasha asked.
The old lady felt faint, Gavril Afanassievitch drew back the curtain, looked coldly at the patient, and inquired how she was. The sick girl tried to smile but could not. Her father's stern gaze startled her, and fear overcame her. She fancied some one stood at the head of her bed. With an effort she raised her head and instantly recognised the Tsar's negro. At that moment she remembered all, and all the horror of the future presented itself before her. But exhausted nature could receive no further perceptible shock. Natasha dropped her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes, her heart within her gave sickly throbs. Tatiana Afanassievna signed to her brother that the patient wanted to go to sleep, and everybody left the apartments quietly. The maid alone remained and resumed her seat.
The unhappy beauty opened her eyes, and seeing no one by her bedside, called the maid and sent her for the dwarf. But at that moment an old, round creature, like a ball, rolled up to her bed. Tie Swallow (so the dwarf was nicknamed) had rushed as fast as her short legs would carry her up the stairs after Gavril Afanassievitch and Ibrahim, and hid behind the door. Natasha saw her and sent the maid away. The dwarf sat down on a stool by the bedside Never had so small a body contained so active a soul. She interfered in everything, knew everything, and exerted herself about everything. With cunning penetration she knew how to gain the affection of her masters, and the envy of all the household over which she wielded autocratic sway. Gavril Afanassievitch listened to her tales, complaints, and petty requests. Tatiana Afanassievna asked her opinion every moment and took her advice, while Natasha's affection for her was unbounded. She confided to her all the thoughts, all the impulses of her sixteen-year-old heart.
"Do you know, Swallow," she said, "my father is going to marry me to the negro." The dwarf sighed deeply, and her wrinkled face became more wrinkled.
"Is there no hope?" added Natasha. "Do you think my father will not have compassion upon me?"