Making the sign of the cross, with a fluttering heart she ventured to
look out--she could not trust her eyes, again she looked out;
confusion! a kind of delighted disappointment, a kind of sweet thrill
running through her blood, never before experienced, fixed her for
some moments to the spot: but when Anastasia recovered herself from
these impressions, she felt ashamed and grieved that she had given
way to them. She already felt a kind of repentance. The sorcerer has
put on a mask, she thought, remembering her father's words: from this
moment she became more frequently pensive."

We are conducted to the state prisons of Moscow, and introduced to some of
the prisoners whose names have figured in history. We select the following
dialogue as a specimen of the author's power to deal with such matters.
The prisoner is Márpha, the lady of Novogorod, who, by her courage and her
wealth, had laboured to preserve its independence.

"Here the Great Prince rapped with his staff at a grating; at the
knock there looked out an old roman, who was fervently praying on her
knees. She was dressed in a much-worn high cap, and in a short veil,
poor, but white as new-fallen snow; her silver hair streamed over a
threadbare mantle: it was easy to guess that this was no common woman.
Her features were very regular, in her dim eyes was expressed
intellect, and a kind of stern greatness of soul. She looked proudly
and steadily at the Great Prince.

"'For whom wert thou praying, Marphóusha?' asked the sovereign.

"'For whom but for the dead!' she sullenly replied.

"'But for whom in particular, if I may make bold to ask?'