He would start, look
about him, and say, in a melancholy voice,--
"Have I frightened you, my children? It seems to me that I am
getting old. Ah, yes, we must all die, one day. But we need not
think about it, until the time comes. The Devil take me for
putting it into my head! Why, how now? can't you sing, children?"
Then he would strike up some ditty which they all knew: a hundred
voices joined in the strain, and the hills once more rang with
revelry.
Since the day when the Princess Martha was buried, the Prince had
not again spoken of marriage. No one, of course, dared to mention
the name of Boris in his presence.
IX.
The young Prince had, in reality, become the happy husband of
Helena. His love for her had grown to be a shaping and organizing
influence, without which his nature would have fallen into its
former confusion. If a thought of a less honorable relation had
ever entered his mind, it was presently banished by the respect
which a nearer intimacy inspired; and thus Helena, magnetically
drawing to the surface only his best qualities, loved,
unconsciously to herself, her own work in him.
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