Galitzin devoutly crossed himself.
On entering the Ravelin, he met Tchernishoff. The prince did not recognise him. The brave, fine, spruce officer, Tchernishoff, who was never once in his life embarrassed by his service, was now quite bewildered and pale as death.
“Poor thing!” murmured the field-marshal, following Tchernishoff. “Can it be that she will die? Has the doctor been?”
“He has not left her since evening; the agony has already begun, she is quite unconscious. She is raving!”
“What does she rave about? Speak, speak!” and the agitated prince leant forward to Tchernishoff. “Were you there? Did you hear her ravings?”
“I went in several times,” answered the commandant. “I only heard some unintelligible words, amongst them Orloff … Princess … Gran Dio … Mio caro.…”
“And the child?” asked the prince, dashing away a tear.
“Is well, your Grace, in the hands of a wet nurse. My wife found a very good one.”
“See that everything necessary is found—everything. Do you hear me, sir? everything,” said the prince very seriously and impressively, trying to give his voice a most imperious and commanding tone. “In a Christian manner, do you understand?… In case, here … in secret … you understand me? without any fuss … suffering humanity … a martyr.”