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 mode,' she said. `They've all adopted that mode. They've flung their caps over the windmills. But there are ways and ways of flinging them.'

`Yes, but precisely what are her relations with Kaluzhsky?'

Betsy broke into unexpectedly mirthful and irrepressible laughter, a thing which rarely happened with her.

`You're encroaching on Princess Miaghkaia'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 peculiar to people 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 role in it.'

`The husband? Liza Merkalova's husband carries her shawl, and is always ready to be of use. But no one cares to inquire about what is really going on. You know, in decent society one doesn't talk or think even of certain details of the toilet. That's how it is in this case.'

`Will you be at Madame Rolandaky's fete?' 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 thin 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 naive 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 misery, or it may be looked at simply, and even humorously. Possibly you are inclined to look at things too tragically.'

`How I should like to know other people just as I know myself!' said Anna, seriously and dreamily. `Am I worse than other people, or better? I think I'm worse.'

`Enfant terrible, enfant terrible!' repeated Betsy. `But here they are.'