Basil, watching by his godmother’s bedside when not employed in replacing her as owner and personal manager of one of the greatest estates in northern Russia, felt a constant presentiment of evil things to come. He could not have explained this sensation had he been asked to do so, but nevertheless it was quite strong enough to oppress him almost continually by day and night. Vera-Nikoláievna, Countess Lanièvitch, had in her day been a celebrated beauty, but this circumstance had never succeeded in spoiling the remarkably clever and high-minded woman she was. Her husband had fallen at the head of his regiment during the Russo-Japanese war, in the course of which her four sons, two in the cavalry and two in the navy, had also heroically yielded up their lives. Left alone and desolate, the Great Lady had turned all that remained of tenderness in her nature to Basil-Vassilièvitch Palitzin, who she claimed was all that was left in the world for her to care about, and had made little Piotr her heir, with that fitness of things which invariably brings more water to an already overflowing river. She had met Laurence but twice--once at her own place, where Basil had brought his bride to be presented, the second time at Petersburg, and the experienced woman of the world had immediately formed the worst possible opinion of her beloved godson’s marriage. Nor had Laurence done anything to conciliate her husband’s aged relative. Stubborn, with that peculiarly impenetrable stubbornness that one can but call pig-headed, having once made up her mind that she would hate--and continue to hate--every single thing or person connected with Russia and her new life, she had ignored the kindly advances of Countess Lanièvitch, remaining from the first strictly polite and no more, which had both surprised and hurt the Dowager. Her health, always delicate since her great sorrows, had now finally given way, and Basil, filled with the greatest apprehensions, at last summoned the Court physician all the way from Petersburg to look deeper into the case. The great man came, and pronounced a far from reassuring verdict. The patient might or might not linger for another year. That there was no immediate danger he was willing to assert, but this was all, for the Countess suffered from heart trouble, and, moreover, complete discouragement--a very grave symptom in a person of her energetic nature--seemed to have overtaken her.