If in winter the——’”
She got no farther; her song stopped sharply and then I heard a ripple of laughter and much whispering, followed by the rustling of skirts in the room beyond. Then the curtain between was lifted by an old Russian woman, who held it respectfully aside, and the Princess Daria entered. I had only seen her, cloaked and hooded, in Maître le Bastien’s workshop, and was almost unprepared for the vision that broke upon me, as she walked slowly across the room and, pausing in the broad light of the window, turned her face toward me and calmly waited for me to speak. She was tall, with a girlish slenderness of figure, and the dignity and poise of a young queen. The beauty of her features, which I had already seen, was greatly enhanced by her colouring, for her complexion was almost dazzlingly fair, and her hair as black and glossy as a raven’s wing. To my satisfaction, too, she wore no paint, which was unusual, as the Russian women painted not only their faces, but their hands and arms, and even coloured their eyelashes, but she was beautiful as nature made her. Her costume, too, singular as it was to my eyes, only added to her charms; it was a flowing, ungirdled robe of some clinging white material, embroidered in gold around the edge of the hem at her feet, and in a broad band around the half low neck; and on either bare, round, white arm, as well as about her throat, were plain bands of dull gold.
She stood looking at me with great composure, her penetrating glance apparently taking in every detail of my appearance, and to add to my embarrassment, I became aware of Lissa’s roguish face peeping out from behind the shoulder of the old duenna, who stood patiently in the doorway. However, I made my obeisance as gracefully as I could, and drawing forth the packet, which contained the pear. I presented it, along with the picture of the Czarevna Sophia, which Maître le Bastien had been careful to return. The princess received the package with dignified complacence, but at the sight of the miniature she turned crimson, looking for all the world like a naughty child caught in some mischief. Seeing her confusion, and determined to prolong the interview to the fullest extent, I bethought me of something more to say.
“Let me warn the princess,” I said courteously, “that there seems to be a peculiar interest attached to that locket, and that it was seen while in the hands of Maître le Bastien.”
She gave me a startled look, in which alarm and displeasure were mingled.
“And by whom, sir?” she asked haughtily.
“By the Boyar Kurakin,” I replied.
She blushed yet more deeply and bit her lip, while I heard a little smothered scream of laughter from the direction of the doorway.
“I trusted it to you,” said the Princess Daria coldly. “It was your fault that my confidence was betrayed.”
“It was purely accidental, mademoiselle,” I replied, and went on hastily to explain how Kurakin had forced himself into the house, pushing Michaud, who understood no Russ, out of his way and entering the shop unannounced. Then I told her briefly of his effort to get the locket from me.