"But do tell me, please, I never could make it out," said Anna,

after being silent for some time, speaking in a tone that showed

she was not asking an idle question, but that what she was asking

was of more importance to her than it should have been; "do tell

me, please, what are her relations with Prince Kaluzhsky, Mishka,

as he's called? I've met them so little. What does it mean?"

Betsy smiled with her eyes, and looked intently at Anna.

"It's a new manner," she said. "They've all adopted that manner.

They've flung their caps over the windmills. But there are ways

and ways of flinging them."

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"Yes, but what are her relations precisely with Kaluzhsky?"

Betsy broke into unexpectedly mirthful and irrepressible

laughter, a thing which rarely happened with her.

"You're encroaching on Princess Myakaya's special domain now.

That's the question of an _enfant terrible_," and Betsy obviously

tried to restrain herself, but could not, and went off into peals

of that infectious laughter that people laugh who do not laugh

often. "You'd better ask them," she brought out, between tears

of laughter.

"No; you laugh," said Anna, laughing too in spite of herself,

"but I never could understand it. I can't understand the

husband's rôle in it."

"The husband? Liza Merkalova's husband carries her shawl, and is

always ready to be of use. But anything more than that in

reality, no one cares to inquire. You know in decent society one

doesn't talk or think even of certain details of the toilet.

That's how it is with this."

"Will you be at Madame Rolandak's fête?" asked Anna, to change

the conversation.

"I don't think so," answered Betsy, and, without looking at her

friend, she began filling the little transparent cups with

fragrant tea. Putting a cup before Anna, she took out a

cigarette, and, fitting it into a silver holder, she lighted it.

"It's like this, you see: I'm in a fortunate position," she

began, quite serious now, as she took up her cup. "I understand

you, and I understand Liza. Liza now is one of those naïve

natures that, like children, don't know what's good and what's

bad. Anyway, she didn't comprehend it when she was very young.

And now she's aware that the lack of comprehension suits her.

Now, perhaps, she doesn't know on purpose," said Betsy, with a

subtle smile. "But, anyway, it suits her. The very same thing,

don't you see, may be looked at tragically, and turned into a

misery, or it may be looked at simply and even humorously.

Possibly you are inclined to look at things too tragically."




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