“Yes, I do—this kind.”
“Do you mean especially this kind?”
“Yes, especially this kind.”
“Why?”
“There is much suffering in this face,” murmured the prince, more as though talking to himself than answering the question.
“I think you are wandering a little, prince,” Mrs. Epanchin decided, after a lengthened survey of his face; and she tossed the portrait on to the table, haughtily.
Alexandra took it, and Adelaida came up, and both the girls examined the photograph. Just then Aglaya entered the room.
“What a power!” cried Adelaida suddenly, as she earnestly examined the portrait over her sister’s shoulder.
“Whom? What power?” asked her mother, crossly.
“Such beauty is real power,” said Adelaida. “With such beauty as that one might overthrow the world.” She returned to her easel thoug
