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Chapter 12

           AndPrincessMaryutteredaloudthecaressingwordhehadsaidtoheronthedayofhisdeath.“Dear-est!”sherepeated,andbegansobbing,withtearsthatrelievedhersoul.Shenowsawhisfacebeforeher.Andnotthefaceshehadknowneversinceshecouldrememberandhadalwaysseenatadistance,butthetimid,feeblefaceshehadseenforthefirsttimequiteclosely,withallitswrinklesanddetails,whenshestoopedneartohismouthtocatchwhathesaid.

           “Dear-est!”sherepeatedagain.

           “Whatwashethinkingwhenheutteredthatword?Whatishethinkingnow?”Thisquestionsuddenlypresenteditselftoher,andinanswershesawhimbeforeherwiththeexpressionthatwasonhisfaceashelayinhiscoffinwithhischinboundupwithawhitehandkerchief.Andthehorrorthathadseizedherwhenshetouchedhimandconvincedherselfthatthatwasnothe,butsomethingmysteriousandhorrible,seizedheragain.Shetriedtothinkofsomethingelseandtopray,butcoulddoneither.Withwide-openeyesshegazedatthemoonlightandtheshadows,expectingeverymomenttoseehisdeadface,andshefeltthatthesilencebroodingoverthehouseandwithinitheldherfast.

           “Dunyásha,”shewhispered.“Dunyásha!”shescreamedwildly,andtearingherselfoutofthissilencesherantotheservants’quarterstomeetheroldnurseandthemaidservantswhocamerunningtowardher.

           

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