wealth as Prince Alexis; but he never liked his wife, and he took
a stubborn pleasure in thwarting her wishes. It was no
satisfaction that Boris resembled her in character. That weak
successor to the sovereignty of Kinesma preferred a game of cards
to a bear hunt, and could never drink more than a quart of vodki
without becoming dizzy and sick.

"Ugh!" Prince Alexis would cry, with a shudder of disgust, "the
whelp barks after the dam!"

A state dinner he might give; but a festival, with dances, dramatic
representations, burning tar-barrels, and cannon,--no! He knitted
his heavy brows and drank deeply, and his fiery gray eyes shot such
incessant glances from side to side that Boris and the Princess
Martha could not exchange a single wink of silent advice. The
pet bear, Mishka, plied with strong wines, which Prince Alexis
poured out for him into a golden basin, became at last comically
drunk, and in endeavoring to execute a dance, lost his balance, and
fell at full length on his back.

The Prince burst into a yelling, shrieking fit of laughter.
Instantly the yellow-haired serfs in waiting, the Calmucks at the
hall-door, and the half-witted dwarf who crawled around the table
in his tow shirt, began laughing in chorus, as violently as they
could. The Princess Martha and Prince Boris laughed also; and
while the old man's eyes were dimmed with streaming tears of mirth,
quickly exchanged nods. The sound extended all over the castle,
and was heard outside of the walls.

"Father!" said Boris, "let us have the festival, and Mishka shall