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 cabinet, he was touched, but this fact did not prevent him from being delighted at having settled this matter; for he was certain that Alekseï Aleksandrovitch would not go back on his word. His satisfaction suggested a conundrum which he could ask his wife and intimate friends:—

"What is the difference between me and a field-marshal? The field-marshal makes divorces, and nobody is the better for it; while I make divorces, and three people are better off. .... Or, rather, what resemblance is there between me and a field-marshal? Where .... but by and by I'll improve on it," he said to himself with a smile.

CHAPTER XXIII

's wound was dangerous, although it did not reach the heart. He hung for several days between life and death. When for the first time he was in a condition to talk, only Varia, his brother's wife, was in his room.

"Varia!" said he, looking at her gravely, "I shot myself accidentally. Now please never speak to me about this, but tell every one so; otherwise it will seem too stupid!"

Varia bent over him without replying, examining his face with a happy smile. His eyes were bright, but no longer feverish, but their expression was stern.

"Well! Thank the Lord!" she replied. "Are you suffering?"

"A little on this side," said he, pointing to his chest.

"Let me change the dressing, then."

Squinting, he silently watched her change it, and when she had finished, he said:—

"I am not delirious now. See to it, I beg of you, that nobody says that I shot myself intentionally."

"Nobody says so. I hope, however, that after this you will not shoot yourself accidentally again," she said with a questioning smile.