As the Czar entered the Princess's room, and Ihnasko was alone with his wife, he could not refrain from asking—
"What did you mean by 'king's daughter'?"
"Slow coach! Don't you know that yet? She has lived the last eight years in your house without your knowing that she is the daughter of a Circassian king. Her father was once a mighty ruler there, where the currants and olives grow; he was killed by the Turks, and the Queen brought her crown and her little daughter, and fled to us for protection. She was a wonderfully handsome woman. I saw her once in all her national costume at a New-year's review. I did not wonder at what had happened. It was General Lazaroff who had received orders to bring her from her own country to Russia. The General was a man of amorous nature. On one occasion the wine he drunk flew to his head, and he forgot that he was escorting a queen, and only saw the lovely woman. But the Circassian butterflies have stings as sharp as any bee. The Queen drove her kindzal into his heart, and he fell down dead at her feet. Not much was made of the affair; it was hushed up. The Queen was put into a convent, where she has always been treated with royal honors. But she is not allowed to leave it. Only on New-year's day she takes her place with the widowed Queens of Imeritia and Mingrelia on the steps of the throne. As for her little six-year-old daughter, she was taken from her, that her royal mother might not teach her to follow her ways. Why, there would not be a man left in St. Petersburg! The child was intrusted to Princess Ghedimin's care, who has not the blessing of a child of her own."
"What child?" blurted out Ihnasko.
"Oh, you goose! What a question to ask! What child? None at all, seeing she hasn't got one. Don't wink at me, or you'll get a cuff in the face. So the king's daughter was brought to Ghedimin Palace, and is now a member of the family. Forgetting her own mother, she looks upon the Princess as one."
"I should just like to know why the Princess sends her here to visit your sick princess?"
"That's nothing to do with your thick skull."
The other draught-player is Sophie Narishkin, a tall, delicate-looking girl with straw-colored hair. It is well that she is kept in strict retirement, for in face she is the image of what Princess Ghedimin was at that age. There is an expression of premature wisdom in her countenance blended with that of superstitious fear. Her eyes wear a softer look than those of her prototype; instead of Princess Ghedimin's haughty, contemptuous expression, hers are dreamy and melancholy.
What can be a maiden's dreams who knows nothing of the world? The world, peopled with mankind. She may dream of lovely landscapes, of rocks, woods, waterfalls. But of the beings who people the world she knows none save her nurse, to whose fairy tales she listens so eagerly, and her governesses, who had vainly striven to indoctrinate her into the sciences and fine arts.