Princess filled, but with much more beauty and dignity,
the ancient place of the Princess Martha. The golden dishes were set
before her, and the famous family emeralds--in accordance with the
command of Prince Alexis--gleamed among her dark hair and flashed around
her milk-white throat. Her beauty was of a kind so rare in Russia
that it silenced all question and bore down all rivalry. Every one
acknowledged that so lovely a creature had never before been seen.
"Faith, the boy has eyes!" the old Prince constantly repeated, as he
turned away from a new stare of admiration, down the table.

The guests noticed a change in the character of the entertainment. The
idiot, in his tow shirt, had been crammed to repletion in the kitchen,
and was now asleep in the stable. Razboi, the new bear,--the successor
of the slaughtered Mishka,--was chained up out of hearing. The jugglers,
tumblers, and Calmucks still occupied their old place under the gallery,
but their performances were of a highly decorous character. At the
least-sign of a relapse into certain old tricks, more grotesque than
refined, the brows of Prince Alexis would grow dark, and a sharp glance
at Sasha was sufficient to correct the indiscretion. Every one found
this natural enough; for they were equally impressed with the elegance
and purity of the young wife. After the healths had been drunk and the
slumber-flag was raised over the castle, Boris led her into the splendid
apartments of his mother,--now her own,--and knelt at her feet.

"Have I done my part, my Boris?" she asked.

"You are an angel!" he cried. "It was a miracle! My life was not worth
a copek, and I feared for yours. If it will only last!--if it will only
last!"

"It WILL," said she. "You have taken me from poverty, and given me rank,
wealth, and a proud place in the world: let it be my work to keep the
peace which God has permitted me to establish between you and your
father!"

The change in the old Prince, in fact, was more radical than any one who
knew his former ways of life would have considered possible. He stormed
and swore occasionally, flourished his whip to some purpose, and rode
home from the chase, not outside of a brandy cask, as once, but with
too much of its contents inside of him: but these mild excesses were
comparative virtues. His accesses of blind rage seemed to be at an end.
A powerful, unaccustomed feeling of content subdued his strong nature,
and left its impress on his voice