"No! Not Princess How!" answered the old woman, losing the last shred
of self-restraint; "but Princess Che-che-vin-ski! Princess Anna
Chechevinski!"

When he heard this name Count Kallash started and his whole expression
changed. He grew suddenly pale, and with a vigorous effort pushed his
way through the crowd to the miserable old woman's side.

"Come!" he said, taking her by the arm. "Come with me! I have
something for you!"

"Something for me?" answered the old woman, looking up with stupid
inquiry and already forgetting the existence of the impudent youth.
"Yes, I'll come! What have you got for me?"

Count Kallash led her by the arm out of the crowd, which began to
disperse, abashed by his appearance and air of determination.
Presently he hailed a carriage, and putting the old woman in, ordered
the coachman to drive to his rooms.

There he did his best to make the miserable old woman comfortable, and
his housekeeper presently saw that she was washed and fed, and soon
the old woman was sleeping in the housekeeper's room.

To explain this extraordinary event we must go back twenty years.

In 1838 Princess Anna Chechevinski, then in her twenty-sixth year, had
defied her parents, thrown to the winds the traditions of her princely
race, and fled with the man of her choice, followed by her mother's
curses and the ironical congratulations of her brother, who thus