d coughing in an embarrassed way, he walked away quickly, without
remembering to put his hat on.

Stars were already twinkling in the sky. The moon must have been
rising on the further side of the monastery, for the sky was clear,
soft, and transparent. Bats were flitting noiselessly along the
white monastery wall.

The clock slowly struck three quarters, probably a quarter to nine.
The princess got up and walked slowly to the gate. She felt wounded
and was crying, and she felt that the trees and the stars and even
the bats were pitying her, and that the clock struck musically only
to express its sympathy with her. She cried and thought how nice
it would be to go into a monastery for the rest of her life. On
still summer evenings she would walk alone through the avenues,
insulted, injured, misunderstood by people, and only God and the
starry heavens would see the martyr's tears. The evening service
was still going on in the church. The princess stopped and listened
to the singing; how beautiful the singing sounded in the still
darkness! How sweet to weep and suffer to the sound of that singing!

Going into her rooms, she looked at her tear-stained face in the
glass and powdered it, then she sat down to supper. The monks knew
that she liked pickled sturgeon, little mushrooms, Malaga and plain
honey-cakes that left a taste of cypress in the mouth, and every
time she came they gave her all these dishes. As she ate the mushrooms
and drank the Malaga, the princess dreamed of how she would be
finally ruined and deserted--how all her stewards, bailiffs,
clerks, and maid-servants for whom she had done so much, would be
false to her, and begin to say rude things; how people all the world
over would set upon her, speak ill of her, jeer at her. She would
renounce her title, would renounce society and luxury, and would
go into a convent without one word of reproach to any one; she would
pray for her enemies--and then they would all understand her and
come to beg her forgiveness, but by that time it would be too
late. . . .

After supper she knelt down in the corner before the ikon and read
two chapters of the Gospel. Then her maid made her bed and she got
into it. Stretching herself under the white quilt, she heaved a
sweet, deep sigh, as one sighs after crying, closed her eyes, and
began to fall asleep.

In the morning she waked up and glanced at her watch. It was half-past
nine. On the carpet near the bed was a bright, nar