from him as much as the narrow sled would allow.

"You have been very kind, sir, and I thank you," she said; "but I
am now able to go home without your further assistance."

"By no means, lady!" said the Prince. "The streets are rough, and
here are no lamps. If a second accident were to happen, you would
be helpless. Will you not allow me to protect you?"

She looked him in the face. In the dusky light, she saw not the
peevish, weary features of the worldling, but only the imploring
softness of his eyes, the full and perfect honesty of his present
emotion. She made no further objection; perhaps she was glad that
she could trust the elegant stranger.

Boris, never before at a loss for words, even in the presence of
the Empress, was astonished to find how awkward were his attempts
at conversation. She was presently the more self-possessed of the
two, and nothing was ever so sweet to his ears as the few
commonplace remarks she uttered. In spite of the darkness and the
chilly air, the sled seemed to fly like lightning. Before he
supposed they had made half the way, she gave a sign to the
istvostchik, and they drew up before a plain house of squared logs.

The two lower windows were lighted, and the dark figure of an old
man, with a skull-cap upon his head, was framed in one of them. It
vanished as the sled stopped; the door was thrown open and the man
came forth hurriedly, followed by a Russian nurse with a lantern.

"Helena, my child, art thou come at last? What has befallen thee?"