At that very minute, the notes of the clavichord were heard from the room of Nelidova. A melodious splendid contralto was singing the very solemn and sad hymn from Glück’s opera, “Iphigenia in Tauridus.”
“Well, Irena Lvovna, let us go; I suppose we are too late. Ekaterina Ivanovna is at her music, and no one will dare disturb her. Very likely the grand-duchess is with her now.”
Irena made a sign to her companion to wait a little, and with a beating heart she listened to the so well known notes of the imploring hymn of “Iphigenia.” In past days she had herself sung that to Konsov. “Oh! if I could only implore them like that; but when will that be? They have their own cares, they have no time,” thought she, feeling that her tears were choking her.
“Let us go, let us go,” said Anna Romanovna, hastily. They both went out together, went down the steps, round the pavilion of the maids of honour, and into the garden. The wicket-gate banged to.
“Where are you off to?” they heard a voice gaily calling out.
They both raised their eyes. Looking at them from the open window was the smiling face of the black-eyed Nelidova.
“Come in; I’m quite free now. I was waiting for you, and so began to sing. Come in.”
The visitors retraced their steps.
Anna Romanovna presented her companion to Nelidova, who made her sit down beside her.