“Daughter of the Tsar!” cried the old man.

“My queen!” murmured Ordynov. Yet almost as he uttered the words he recovered his presence of mind, for he realised that the old man’s gaze was bent upon him with a look of concentrated malice and cold contempt. He tried to rise, but some invisible force nailed his feet to the floor, and he was fain to reseat himself with fists clenched. He could not believe that the scene was real; he believed himself to be the sport of some nightmare, of some evil dream which was weighing down his eyelids. Strangest thing of all, he had no desire from that dream to awaken.

Katerina removed the worn tablecloth, opened a trunk, and took thence a more valuable cloth which was embroidered in scarlet and gold silks. With this she recovered the table. Next, from an antique silver-mounted dressing-case she drew three silver drinking-cups; one of which she presented, with a solemn—almost a dreamy—air, to Ordynov and to the old man respectively.

“Which of us,” she said, “has not the good-will of the other two? In any case our guest has mine, and he shall drink with me to-night. Yes, both of you are my ‘brothers,’ so let us drink to love and to concord.”

“Yes, yes!” cried the old man eagerly. “Let us drink together, and drown our cares in wine. Pour it out, Katerina.”

“And you—do you also wish me to pour out the wine?” Katerina asked of Ordynov.

For answer he held out his cup.

“One moment!” cried the old man with uplifted hand. “Let the one of us who cherishes an unsatisfied wish live some day to see it realised!”

They clinked their cups and drank.

“Next let us drink to you and to myself, old man,” said Katerina to her protector. “If within the recesses of your heart you still feel any tenderness for me, honour the toast. Drink to our past happiness; drink to the years which are gone. If you love me, bid me fill the cups again.”

“Your wine is strong, my little one—so strong that you do but wet your lips with it,” retorted the old man with a smile as again he tendered her his goblet.

“At least I will taste of the wine, but you—you shall drink your measure to the dregs. Why live in company with sad thoughts, old man? Sad thoughts only make the heart sick. To think is but to grieve; therefore to live happily one should live without thinking at all. Drink deep, old man, and drown your care.”

“Are you so well acquainted with care that you know the best way to banish it? Come! I drink to you, Katerina, my pure white dove! And you, sir,” he continued to Ordynov, “have you (if I might make so bold) any acquaintance with care?”

“If I have I should prefer to keep it,” murmured Ordynov, who had never yet taken his eyes off Katerina.

“Did you hear that?” she cried to Murin. “I too have but a short acquaintance with introspection, for time was when I gave no thought to the past; but suddenly there came an hour when I could remember all things: all that had ever happened to me I lived over again in my insatiable soul.”