Page:The Kiss and Other Stories by Anton Tchekhoff, 1908.pdf/247

 wasted all to-day looking out for you. If you're received without proper ceremony, woe to every one! You would complain to the Bishop. ‘Your holiness, the monks don't love me! True, I am a great sinner; but I am so unhappy!’ Already one monastery got a reprimand on your account. The Archimandrite here is a busy, studious man; he has not a moment free; yet you send for him to your rooms! No respect even for age and rank! . . . If you did a lot for this monastery, there might be some excuse. But all this time the monks have not had a hundred roubles from you!

When the princess was troubled, puzzled, or offended; when she was at a loss what to do, she usually wept. And here at last she covered her face, and cried a thin, childish cry. The doctor held his peace, and looked at her. His face darkened.

“Forgive me, princess,” he said in a restrained voice. “I forgot myself, and gave way to wicked feelings. That was not right.”

And with a confused cough, and his hat still in his hand, he walked quickly away.

The sky was already strewn with stars. The moon, it seemed, rose behind the monastery, for the sky above the roof was pale, transparent, and tender. Bats flew noiselessly past the white monastery walls.

The clock slowly struck three-quarters. It was a quarter to eight. The princess rose, and walked slowly