d never satisfy
his nature. He was excited by his new experience, but hardly happier.

Although but three-and-twenty, he would never know the rich, vital glow
with which youth rushes to clasp all forms of sensation.

He had seen, almost daily, in his father's castle, excess in its most
excessive development. It had grown to be repulsive, and he knew not
how to fill the void in his life. With a single spark of genius, and a
little more culture, he might have become a passable author or artist;
but he was doomed to be one of those deaf and dumb natures that see the
movements of the lips of others, yet have no conception of sound. No
wonder his savage old father looked upon him with contempt, for even his
vices were without strength or character.

The dark winter days passed by, one by one, and the first week of Lent
had already arrived to subdue the glittering festivities of the court,
when the only genuine adventure of the season happened to the young
Prince. For adventures, in the conventional sense of the word, he was
not distinguished; whatever came to him must come by its own force, or
the force of destiny.

One raw, gloomy evening, as dusk was setting in, he saw a female figure
in a droschky, which was about turning from the great Morskoi into the
Gorokhovaya (Pea) Street. He noticed, listlessly, that the lady
was dressed in black, closely veiled, and appeared to be urging the
istvostchik (driver) to make better speed. The latter cut his horse
sharply: it sprang forward, just at the turning, and the droschky,
striking a lamp-post was instantly overturned. The lady, hurled with
great force upon the solidly frozen snow, lay motionless, which the
driver observing, he righted the sled and drove off at full speed,
without looking behind him. It was not inhumanity, but fear of the knout
that hurried him away.

Prince Boris looked up and down the Morskoi, but perceived no one near
at hand. He then knelt upon the snow, lifted the lady's head to his
knee, and threw back her veil. A face so lovely, in spite of its deadly
pallor, he had never before seen. Never had he even imagined so perfect
an oval, such a sweet, fair forehead, such delicately pencilled brows,
so fine and straight a nose, such wonderful beauty of mouth and chin. It
was fortunate that she was not very severely stunned, for Prince Boris
was not only ignorant of the usual modes of restoration in such cases,
but he totally forgot their necessity, in his rap