he said,
coming closer to listen, "unless it is from 'La Tempete';" but she spoke
doubtfully.

"It was exactly so," thought Natacha. "She started as she came forward,
smiling so gently; and I thought then, as I think now, that there is
something in her which is quite lacking in me. No," she said aloud, "you
are quite out; it is the chorus from the 'Porteur d'Eau'--listen," and
she hummed the air. "Where are you going?"

"For some fresh water to finish my drawing."

"You are always busy and I never. Where is Nicolas?"

"Asleep, I think."

"Go and wake him, Sonia. Tell him to come and sing."

Sonia went, and Natacha relapsed into dreaming and wondering how it had
all happened. Not being able to solve the puzzle, she drifted into
reminiscence once more. She could see him--_him_--and feel his
impassioned eyes fixed on her face. "Oh, make haste back! I am so afraid
he will not come yet! Besides, it is all very well, but I am growing
old; I shall be quite different from what I am now! Who knows? Perhaps
he will come to-day! Perhaps he is here already! Here in the
drawing-room. Perhaps he came yesterday and I have forgotten."

She rose, laid down the guitar, and went into the next room. All the
household party were seated round the tea-table,--the professors, the
governesses, the guests; the servants were waiting on one and
another--but there was no Prince Andre.

"Ah, here she is," said her father. "Come and sit down here." But
Natacha stopped by her mother without heeding his bidding.

"Oh, mamma, bring him to me, give him to me soon, very soon," she
murmured, swallowing down a sob. Then she sat down and listened to the
others. "Good God! always the same people! always the same thing! Papa
holds his cup as he always does, and blows his tea to cool it as he did
yesterday, and as he will to-morrow."

She felt a sort of dull rebellion against them all; she hated them for
always being the same.

After tea Sonia, Natacha, and Nicolas huddled together in their
favorite, snug corner of the drawing-room; that was where they talked
freely to each other.

"Do you ever feel," Natacha asked her brother, "as if there was nothing
left to look forward to; as if you had had all your share of happiness,
and were not so much weary as utterly dull?"

"Of course I have. Very often I have seen my friends and fellow-officers
in the highest spirits and been just as jolly myself, and suddenly have
been struck so dull and dismal, ha