"
"Dr. Stantovitch," said Catrina, "is a humbug."
"My dear child!" exclaimed the countess, "he attends all the noble
ladies of Petersburg."
"Precisely," answered Catrina.
She was woman enough to enter into futile arguments with her mother, and
man enough to despise herself for doing it.
"Why do you want to go back to Thors so soon?" murmured the elder lady,
with a little sigh of despair. She knew she was playing a losing game
very badly. She was mentally shuddering at the recollection of former
sleigh-journeying from Tver to Thors.
"Because I am sure father would like us to be there this hard winter."
"But your father is in Siberia," put in the countess, which remark was
ignored.
"Because if we do not go before the snow begins to melt we shall have to
do the journey in carriages over bad roads, which is sure to knock you
up. Because our place is at Thors, and no one wants us here. I hate
Petersburg. It is no use living here unless one is rich and beautiful
and popular. We are none of those things, so we are better at Thors."
"But we have many nice friends here, dear. You will see, this afternoon.
I expect quite a reception. By the way, I hope Kupfer has sent the
little cakes. Your father used to be so fond of them. I wonder if we
could send him a box to Siberia. He would enjoy them, poor man! He might
give some to the prison people, and thus obtain a little alleviation.
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