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 skies, declaring to her face that she was a treasure, a pearl, a ministering angel.

"Well! she must be angel number two," said the prince, gallantly, "for she calls Mademoiselle Varenka angel number one."

"Oh! Mademoiselle Varenka is truly an angel. Allez," said Madame Berthe, vivaciously.

They met Varenka herself in the gallery. She hastened up to them, carrying an elegant red bag.

"Here is papa," said Kitty.

Varenka made the prince a simple and natural salutation, almost like a courtesy, and without any false modesty immediately entered into conversation with him as she conversed with every one, without restraint or affectation.

"Of course I know you,—know you very well already," said the prince, with a pleasant expression that made Kitty see that her friend pleased her father. "Where were you going so fast?"

"Maman is here," she replied, turning to Kitty. "She did not sleep all night, and the doctor advised her to take the air. I have brought her work,"

"So that is angel number one?" said the prince, when Varenka had gone.

Kitty saw that he had intended to rally her about her friend, but had refrained because her friend had pleased him. "Well, let us go and see them all," said he,—"all your friends, even Madame Stahl, if she will deign to remember me."

"But did you ever know her, papa?" asked Kitty, with fear, as she saw an ironical flash in her father's eyes as he mentioned Madame Stahl.

"I knew her husband, and I knew her a little, before she joined the Pietists."

"What are Pietists, papa?" asked Kitty, troubled because such a nickname was given to what in Madame Stahl she valued so highly.

"I myself do not know much about them. I only know this, that she thanks God for everything, even for her tribulations, and, above all, she thanks God