"And Lady Emily Anthropos's cousin," says Mrs. Joyce. "She is charmed with the betrothal--an extremely suitable match. Bärenburg has received a furlough. Day after to-morrow he goes with his mother and the Anthropos to England. The wedding is to be in June."
Then a short, crashing sound--a cup has fallen from Mascha's hand and broken to bits.
"You are intolerably awkward," says Anna. "Fortunately, the cup was empty."
Mrs. Joyce looks up; her eyes rest on Mascha, who looks pitiable. Her lips are blue, she trembles in her whole frame.
"You have a chill, poor child," says Mrs. Joyce, compassionately.
But, blushing deeply, Mascha turns away her face.
"I begged you to let me stay up-stairs, Anna," she gasps out. "You know that I am ill." And, tottering, she leaves the room.
"She is laughable," murmurs Anna. The old Madame Jeliagin is confusedly silent.
Nita and Sophie took leave. "Poor child," remarked Sophie; "how could Lensky leave her with these people? They torment her crazy."
"Wait for me a little, I would like to see her," says Nita, and hurries up-stairs to the door of Mascha's room. She opens it without knocking. Mascha crouches in an arm-chair, trembling, her teeth chattering. "What do you want?" asks she of Nita.