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But
Katinka's kiss seemed bitter, and he secretly rubbed his mouth
after it. The music-master came next: grisly though he might be,
he was the St. Peter who stood at the gate of heaven. Then entered
Helena, in white, like an angel. He took her hand, pronounced the
Easter greeting, and scarcely waited for the answer, "Truly he has
arisen!" before his lips found the way to hers. For a second they
warmly trembled and glowed together; and in another second some new
and sweet and subtle relation seemed to be established between
their natures.
That night Prince Boris wrote a long letter to his "chere maman,"
in piquantly misspelt French, giving her the gossip of the court,
and such family news as she usually craved. The purport of the
letter, however, was only disclosed in the final paragraph, and
then in so negative a way that it is doubtful whether the Princess
Martha fully understood it.
"Poing de mariajes pour moix!" he wrote,--but we will drop the
original,--"I don't think of such a thing yet. Pashkoff dropped a
hint, the other day, but I kept my eyes shut.


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