"You are right, dear granny. That is where I am going." (To the other world.) "Then take him these kisses--and a hundred more! See, I cannot cry. Old eyes are forever weeping--that is, when one does not want to weep; when one fain would, there are no tears to shed." Ivan Maximovitch wept in her stead. He was such an "affectionate boy." "Now, you see, you are going away and leaving me here. And going without having married, without being able to leave me your wife here in your stead." "But I have married, granny dear," returned Ivan. "And I came purposely to-night to present my wife to you." "Oh, what a happy day! You are married--you have a little wife! A dear, charming little angel of a wife! And I shall see her soon? That I call indeed a Christmas present!" But then the old lady must needs temper the joyful news with a little reproach. "But why have you kept this to yourself until after your wedding, when I have so often told you that I specially wished that your wife should receive her bridal tiara from my hands? That was not right of you! I hope she is of noble blood." "She is a Princess Narishkin." "I suppose you sought the Czar's permission to your marriage?" "He granted it, grandmother." "Then I cannot guess why you should have kept it secret from me. Perhaps she did not know Russian when you married, and you were obliged to teach it her first, that she might be able to speak to me, for I know no other language--I am a Muscovite." Ivan let her suppose that to have been the reason. It was nothing unusual. The St. Petersburg princesses know but little Russian--as little as, at that period, the great ladies of Hungary knew Hungarian. The sound of the bell at the outer door interrupted their talk. The rustle of a silk dress was heard in the adjoining room. Then Korynthia had fulfilled her husband's wish; she had come, at his entreaty, to meet him at his grandmother's. There were good reasons why Ivan had not gone to her instead of begging her to come here to him--reasons his wife knew well. In society they were to be seen, she leaning on his arm, all affection. But did the husband knock at his wife's door the answer was "You cannot come in." So it had been ever since the night of the 21st of June. Korynthia was unusually pale; her expression cold and resolute. "Thank you for coming," said her husband to her, in a whisper; and, taking her hand, led her to his grandmother. "My wife, grandmother." Korynthia bent one knee to Anna Feodorovna, then presented her cheek to the kiss of the "mummy." To-day she was bent on doing all that was required of her. Even the old lady's hand--that hand so withered and parchment-like--she kissed. The good old woman was beside herself with happiness. "What a splendid creature! How charming, how lovely she is! How beautifully brought up! And what an exquisite ball-dress she is wearing. It is easy to see that she has come from the Czar's ball."