but when you read this note, I myself and he who carried out this act
by my directions, will have left St. Petersburg forever.

"Your daughter,

"PRINCESS ANNA CHECHEVINSKI."

The old lady's hands did not fall at her sides, but shifted about on
her lap as if they did not belong to her. Her wandering, senseless
eyes stopped their movements, and in them suddenly appeared an
expression of deep meaning. The old princess made a terrible,
superhuman effort to recover her presence of mind and regain command
over herself. A single faint groan broke from her breast, and her
teeth chattered. She began to look about the room for a light, but the
lamp had been extinguished; the dull gray daylight filtering through
the Venetian blinds sufficiently lit the room. Then the old lady, with
a strange, irregular movement, crushed the note together in her hand,
placed it in her mouth, and with a convulsive movement of her jaws
chewed it, trying to swallow it as quickly as possible.

A minute passed, and the note had disappeared. The old princess closed
the strong box and rang for the day nurse. Giving her the usual order
in a quiet voice, she had still strength enough to support herself on
her elbow and watch the nurse closing the wardrobe, and then to put
the little bag with the keys back under her pillow, in its accustomed
place. Then she again ordered the nurse to go.

When, two hours later, the doctor, coming for the third time, wished
to see his patient and entered her bedroom, he found only the old
woman's lifeless body. The blow had been too much--the daughter of the