Now I remember! Yes, it is a striking likeness."

"But look closely," cried the old woman excitedly; "it is the living
image of Natasha! Of course she is more matured, completely developed.
How old is the baroness?"

"She must be approaching forty. But she doesn't look her age; you
would imagine her to be about thirty-two from her appearance."

"There! And Natasha would be just forty by now!"

"The ages correspond," answered her brother.

"Yes." Princess Anna sighed sadly. "Twenty-two years have passed since
then. But if I met her face to face I think I would recognize her at
once. Tell me, who is she?"

"The baroness? How shall I tell you? She has been abroad for twenty
years, and for the last two years she has lived here. In society she
says she is a foreigner, but with me she is franker, and I know that
she speaks Russian perfectly. She declares that her husband is
somewhere in Germany, and that she lives here with her brother."

"Who is the 'brother'?" asked the old princess curiously.

"The deuce knows! He is also a bit shady. Oh, yes! Sergei Kovroff
knows him; he told me something about their history; he came here with
a forged passport, under the name of Vladislav Karozitch, but his real
name is Kasimir Bodlevski."

"Kasimir Bodlevski," muttered the old woman, knitting her brows. "Was
he not once a lithographer or an engraver, or something of the sort?"

"I think he was. I think Kovroff said something about it. He is a fine
engraver still."

"He was? Well, there you are!" and Princess Anna rose quickly from her
seat. "It is she--it is Natasha! She used to tell me she had a
sweetheart, a Polish hero, Bodlevski. And I think his name was
Kasimir. She often got my permission to slip out to visit him; she
said he worked for a lithographer, and always begged me to persuade
mother to liberate her from serfdom, so that she could marry him."

This unexpected discovery meant much to Kallash. Circumstances,
hitherto slight and isolated, suddenly gained a new meaning, and were
lit up in a way that made him almost certain of the truth. He now
remembered that Kovroff had once told him of his first acquaintance
with Bodlevski, when he came on the Pole at the Cave, arranging for a
false passport; he remembered that Natasha had disappeared immediately
before the death of the elder Princess Chechevinski, and he also
remembered how, returning from the cemetery, he had been cruelly
disappointed in his expectations whe