"But, my dear, what is there charming about her? Isn't she like her
grandmother, the Princess Daria Petrovna? By the way, she must be very
old, the Princess Daria Petrovna?"

"How do you mean, old?" cried Tomsky, thoughtlessly, "she died seven
years ago."

The young lady raised her head, and made a sign to the young officer.
He then remembered that the old Countess was never to be informed of
the death of her contemporaries, and he bit his lips. But the old
Countess heard the news with the greatest indifference.

"Dead!" said she, "and I did not know it. We were appointed maids of
honor at the same time, and when we were presented to the Empress--"

And the Countess for the hundredth time related to her grandson one of
her anecdotes.

"Come, Paul," said she, when she had finished her story, "help me to
get up. Lizanka,[2] where is my snuffbox?"

And the Countess with her three maids went behind a screen to finish
her toilette. Tomsky was left alone with the young lady.

"Who is the gentleman you wish to introduce to the Countess?" asked
Lizaveta Ivanovna in a whisper.

"Naroumoff. Do you know him?"