There was no sound beyond the high-pitched drone of the steel runners over the powdery snow.

They were alone; unseen, unheard save of that Ear that listens in the waste places of the world.
"What do you want me to do ?" she asked.
"Oh, not very much!" answered De Chauxville--a cautious man, who knew a woman's humor.

Catrina driving a pair of ponies in the clear, sharp air of Central Russia, and Catrina playing the piano in the enervating, flower-scented atmosphere of a drawing-room, were two different women.
De Chauxville was not the man to mistake the one for the other.
"Not very much, mademoiselle," he answered.

"I should like Mme.

la Comtesse to invite the whole Osterno party to dine, and sleep, perhaps, if one may suggest it." Catrina wanted this too.