ing arranged the little pillow, had moved away, Alekseï Aleksandrovitch rose, and went up to it on tiptoe. For a moment he was silent, and looked with melancholy face at the little thing. But suddenly a smile which moved his hair and the skin on his forehead spread over his face, and he quietly left the room.
He went into the dining-room, rang the bell, and ordered the servant that answered it to send for the doctor again. He was displeased because his wife seemed to take so little interest in this charming baby, and in this state of annoyance he wished neither to go to her room, nor to meet the Princess Betsy; but his wife might wonder why he did not come as usual; he crushed down his feelings and went to her chamber. As he walked along toward the door on a thick carpet, he unintentionally overheard a conversation which he would not have cared to hear.
"If he were not going away, I should understand your refusal, and his also. But your husband ought to be above that," said Betsy.
"It is not for my husband's sake, but my own, that I don't wish it. So say nothing more about it," replied Anna's agitated voice.
"Yes, but you can't help wanting to say good-by to the man who shot himself on your account." ....
"That is the very reason I do not wish to see him again."
Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, with an expression of fear and guilt, stopped, and started to go away without being heard; but, considering that this would lack dignity, he turned round again, and, coughing, went toward the chamber. The voices were hushed, and he went into the room.
Anna, in a gray khalat, with her thick dark hair cut short on her round head, was sitting in a reclining-chair. All her animation disappeared, as usual, at the sight of her husband; she bowed her head, and glanced uneasily at Betsy. Betsy, dressed in the latest fashion, with a little hat perched on the top of her head, like a cap over a lamp, in a dove-colored gown, trimmed with bright-col-
