was
still unspoken when she was thrown forcibly upon his recognition. It was
early upon a December afternoon; and Ivan was walking alone on the
deserted driveway, his mind engrossed with a recalcitrant theme, when he
was broke in upon by the sudden noise of pounding hoofs, rattling
wheels, then, after three or four breathless seconds, a scream,
interrupted by the thud of a falling horse, the snapping of a shaft, and
the plunging of the second animal, who halted, trembling, a few yards
away.

But half aware of what he did, Ivan rushed to the horse, caught him by
the bridle and held him fast, while the coachmen, and a workman or two
who had come up, busied themselves over the fallen beast, which, though
bruised and bleeding, had broken no bones, and was declared able to
finish the journey back to the apartment of "madame."

A few seconds later Ivan found himself standing bare-headed in the
presence of the lonely woman of his imagination, who, herself pale,
evidently shaken, and coughing violently, was, nevertheless, between her
gasps, vigorously remonstrating with her terrified and hysterical maid.
Astonished at the force demonstrated by one whom he now perceived to be
seriously ill, Ivan accepted an eagerly proffered seat opposite the
women, and accompanied them back, across the river, into the city.

The drive was memorable. On its termination Ivan, fascinated by certain
observations, accepted further hospitality, and sat for half an hour
over a samovar in a beautifully furnished little _salon_; finally saying
au revoir not only with his lips but with his mind.

That evening, for next to the last time, a Florentine _salon_ rang once
more with the name of Alexandrine Alexievna Nikitenko, widow of the
Prince of the name who was the younger brother of the head of one of the
most famous families in Russia. The story of the runaway and the
denouement which had brought two such well-known compatriots together,
was in every one's mouth. Ivan was besieged with questions, to which his
replies were so unsatisfactory that a general appeal was made to the
authority of the Principessa Contarini. To her Ivan gave a brief account
of the event, and then himself became an eager interlocutor. His first
triple question also ended, for some time, his remarks. And when he had
been fully answered, his mind was too full for further utterance.

"Who is this Princess Nikitenko? Why is she in Florence? And why is she
not here to-night?"