ew or not; she seemed to feel that before those luminous eyes
which penetrated into the very depths of her heart, it was impossible
not to tell the whole truth which she saw. And suddenly, Natasha's lips
twitched, ugly wrinkles gathered round her mouth, and covering her face
with her hands she burst into sobs.

Princess Mary understood.

But she still hoped, and asked, in words she herself did not trust:

"But how is his wound? What is his general condition?"

"You, you... will see," was all Natasha could say.

They sat a little while downstairs near his room till they had left off
crying and were able to go to him with calm faces.

"How has his whole illness gone? Is it long since he grew worse? When
did this happen?" Princess Mary inquired.

Natasha told her that at first there had been danger from his feverish
condition and the pain he suffered, but at Troitsa that had passed
and the doctor had only been afraid of gangrene. That danger had also
passed. When they reached Yaroslavl the wound had begun to fester
(Natasha knew all about such things as festering) and the doctor had
said that the festering might take a normal course. Then fever set in,
but the doctor had said the fever was not very serious.

"But two days ago this suddenly happened," said Natasha, struggling with
her sobs. "I don't know why, but you will see what he is like."

"Is he weaker? Thinner?" asked the princess.

"No, it's not that, but worse. You will see. O, Mary, he is too good, he
cannot, cannot live, because..."

CHAPTER XV

When Natasha opened Prince Andrew's door with a familiar movement and
let Princess Mary pass into the room before her, the princess felt the
sobs in her throat. Hard as she had tried to prepare herself, and now
tried to remain tranquil, she knew that she would be unable to look at
him without tears.

The princess understood what Natasha had meant by the words: "two days
ago this suddenly happened." She understood those words to mean that he
had suddenly softened and that this softening and gentleness were signs
of approaching death. As she stepped to the door she already saw in
imagination Andrew's face as she remembered it in childhood, a gentle,
mild, sympathetic face which he had rarely shown, and which therefore
affected her very strongly. She was sure he would speak soft, tender
words to her such as her father had uttered before his death, and
that she would not be able to bear it and would b