“You cursed me, forced me to flee, and unjustly deprived me of my inheritance.  I am taking my money by force.  You may inform the police, but when you read this note, I myself and he who carried out this act by my directions, will have left St. Petersburg forever.

“Your daughter,

“PRINCESS ANNA CHECHEVINSKI.”

The old lady’s hands did not fall at her sides, but shifted about on her lap as if they did not belong to her.  Her wandering, senseless eyes stopped their movements, and in them suddenly appeared an expression of deep meaning.  The old princess made a terrible, superhuman effort to recover her presence of mind and regain command over herself.  A single faint groan broke from her breast, and her teeth chattered.  She began to look about the room for a light, but the lamp had been extinguished; the dull gray daylight filtering through the Venetian blinds sufficiently lit the room.  Then the old lady, with a strange, irregular movement, crushed the note together in her hand, placed it in her mouth, and with a convulsive movement of her jaws chewed it, trying to swallow it as quickly as possible.

A minute passed, and the note had disappeared.  The old princess closed the strong box and rang for the day nurse.  Giving her the usual order in a quiet voice, she had still strength enough to support herself on her elbow and watch the nurse closing the wardrobe, and then to put the little bag with the keys back under her pillow, in its accustomed place.  Then she again ordered the nurse to go.

When, two hours later, the doctor, coming for the third time, wished to see his patient and entered her bedroom, he found only the old woman’s lifeless body.  The blow had been too much—­the daughter of the ancient and ever honorable line of Chechevinski a fugitive and a thief!

Natasha had had her revenge.

VII

BEYOND THE FRONTIER

On the morning of that same day, at nine o’clock, a well-dressed lady presented at the Bank of Commerce a number of unsigned bank shares.  At the same time a young man, also elegantly dressed, presented a series of signed shares, made out in the name of “Princess Anna Chechevinski.”  They were properly indorsed, the signature corresponding to that in the bank books.

After a short interval the cashier of the bank paid over to the well-dressed lady a hundred and fifty thousand rubles in bills, and to the elegantly dressed young man seventy thousand rubles.  The lady signed her receipt in French, Teresa Dore; the young man signed his name, Ivan Afonasieff, son of a merchant of Kostroma.

A little later on the same day—­namely, about two o’clock—­a light carriage carried two passengers along the Pargoloff road:  a quietly dressed young woman and a quietly dressed young man.  Toward evening these same young people were traveling in a Finnish coach by the stony mountain road in the direction of Abo.