“I will save your father,” said the czarevna, “but you wed Kurakin!”
The princess made no answer, her face was deathly, and her lips moved as if in prayer. And below the mob screamed out a name. “Voronin—give us the traitor!”
The princess opened her eyes and looked—not at Sophia or the fearful scene below—but away, into the far distance where the sky shone blue and serene.
“I am in your power,” she said; “the holy Virgin pardon you!”
I took a step nearer, pistol in hand, but the dwarf flung himself on that wrist and clung there, with the strength of frenzy, terror, and passionate appeal in his face, but uttering no sound.
XVI: THE PAINTED GALLERY
MALUTA’S superstitious fear that I would do violence to the sacred person of the czarevna stayed me a moment, and that moment changed my whole resolve. In a flash I saw that, even if I could depend upon the dwarf, I could not deal with Sophia without the knowledge of the priest, below us in the chapel, and, moreover, I was suddenly confronted by another possibility.
Meanwhile, the czarevna had advanced upon the princess and was gazing fiercely in her eyes.
“You are indeed in my power,” she cried savagely, “and you will wed Kurakin now!”
In her turn, Daria looked upon her sternly, her pale, spirited face strongly agitated.