In its own way, though her body was becoming more helpless every moment, thought was still throbbing in her head like a frightened bird, and her heart was throbbing also. If no one in the world loved her, she would have less regret to die; but all loved her so much.
And she pictured to herself what would happen when Azya’s treason and his flight would become known: how they would search for her; how they would find her at last,—blue, frozen, sleeping the eternal sleep under a bush at the river. And all at once she called out,—
“Oh, but poor Michael will be in despair! Ei, ei!”
Then she implored him, saying that it was not her fault.
“Michael,” said she, putting her arms around his neck, mentally, “I did all in my power; but, my dear, it was difficult. The Lord God did not will it.”
An
