"Yes, father, and I need not enlighten you as to the cause of this feeling. There are people who cannot amuse themselves in certain positions."
"In certain positions? In what position is your mother?"
He made this inquiry in a voice betraying a fear which he could not conceal. This thought was sounding in his head: "Can she know it?" But Irene said, in a voice almost husky:
"You and I both know her position well, father—but as to this ball—"
"This ball," interrupted Darvid, "is necessary to me for various reasons, and will take place in our house after a few weeks."
"Oh, my father," said Irene, with a nervous, dry laugh, "je vous adresse ma sommation respectueuse, that it should not take place! Mamma and I are greatly opposed to it; therefore, I have permitted myself to detain you for a moment, and say—" The smile disappeared entirely from her lips when she finished; "and say to you that this ball will not take place."
"What does this mean?" began Darvid; but suddenly he restrained himself.
The Swiss stood at the door; at the top of the stairs was another servant. So, raising his hat to his daughter, he finished the conversation in a language understandable to the servants:
"Pardon me; I have no time. I shall be late. We will finish this conversation another time."
When the carriage, whining on the snow, rolled along the crowded streets of the city, in the light of the streetlamps which fell on it, appeared Darvid's face, with an expression of terror. That pallid, thin face, with ruddy whiskers, and a collar of silvery fur, was visible for a moment with eyes widely open, with raised brows, with the words hanging on his lips: "She knows everything!—ghastly!" and after a while it sank again into the darkness which filled the carriage.