Charming, charming—such a good rhyme too; and it’s a most ri—diculous story! Charming, charming; the wife’s away, you know, at Jaroslaf or Tv—— or somewhere, and the husband is——is——Dear me! I’m afraid I’ve forgotten what we were talking about! Yes, yes—we must be going, my boy! _Au revoir, madame; adieu, ma charmante demoiselle_” he added, turning to Zina, and putting the ends of her fingers to his lips. “Come back to dinner,—to dinner, prince! don’t forget to come back here quick!” cried Maria Alexandrovna after them as they went out; “be back to dinner!” CHAPTER V. “Nastasia Petrovna, I think you had better go and see what is doing in the kitchen!” observed Maria Alexandrovna, as she returned from seeing the prince off. “I’m sure that rascal Nikitka will spoil the dinner! Probably he’s drunk already!” The widow obeyed. As the latter left the room, she glanced suspiciously at Maria Alexandrovna, and observed that the latter was in a high state of agitation. Therefore, instead of going to look after Nikitka, she went through the “Salon,” along the passage to her own room, and through that to a dark box-room, where the old clothes of the establishment and such things were stored. There she approached the locked door on tiptoe; and stifling her breath, she bent to the keyhole, through which she peeped, and settled herself to listen intently. This door, which was always kept shut, was one of the three doors communicating with the room where Maria Alexandrovna and Zina were now left alone. Maria Alexandrovna always considered Nastasia an untrustworthy sort of woman, although extremely silly into the bargain. Of course she had suspected the widow—more than once—of eavesdropping; but it so happened that at the moment Madame Moskaleva was too agitated and excited to think of the usual precautions. She was sitting in her arm-chair and gazing at Zina. Zina felt that her mother was looking at her, and was conscious of an unpleasant sensation at her heart. “Zina!” Zina slowly turned her head towards the speaker, and lifted her splendid dark eyes to hers. “Zina, I wish to speak to you on a most important matter!” Zina adopted an attentive air, and sat still with folded hands, waiting for light. In her face there was an expression of annoyance as well as irony, which she did her best to hide. “I wish to ask you first, Zina, what you thought of _that_ Mosgliakoff, to-day?” “You have known my opinion of him for a long time!” replied Zina, surlily. “Yes, yes, of course! but I think he is getting just a little _too_ troublesome, with his continual bothering you—” “Oh, but he says he is in love with me, in which case his importunity is pardonable!” “Strange! You used not to be so ready to find his offences pardonable; you used to fly out at him if ever I mentioned his name!” “Strange, too, that you always defended him, and were so very anxious that I should marry him!—and now you are the first to attack him!”