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Chapter 8

           Shecouldunderstandnothing,thinkofnothingandfeelnothing,exceptpassionateloveforherfather,lovesuchasshethoughtshehadneverfelttillthatmoment.Sheranoutsobbingintothegardenandasfarasthepond,alongtheavenuesofyounglimetreesPrinceAndrewhadplanted.

           “Yes...I...I...Iwishedforhisdeath!Yes,Iwantedittoendquicker....Iwishedtobeatpeace....Andwhatwillbecomeofme?Whatusewillpeacebewhenheisnolongerhere?”PrincessMarymurmured,pacingthegardenwithhurriedstepsandpressingherhandstoherbosomwhichheavedwithconvulsivesobs.

           Whenshehadcompletedthetourofthegarden,whichbroughtheragaintothehouse,shesawMademoiselleBourienne—whohadremainedatBoguchárovoanddidnotwishtoleaveit—comingtowardherwithastranger.ThiswastheMarshaloftheNobilityofthedistrict,whohadcomepersonallytopointouttotheprincessthenecessityforherpromptdeparture.PrincessMarylistenedwithoutunderstandinghim;sheledhimtothehouse,offeredhimlunch,andsatdownwithhim.Then,excusingherself,shewenttothedooroftheoldprince’sroom.Thedoctorcameoutwithanagitatedfaceandsaidshecouldnotenter.

           “Goaway,Princess!Goaway...goaway!”

           Shereturnedtothegardenandsatdownonthegrassatthefootoftheslopebythepond,wherenoonecouldseeher.Shedidnotknowhowlongshehadbeentherewhenshewasarousedbythesoundofawoman’sfootstepsrunningalongthepath.

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