"To-morrow at seven o'clock," he mentally ejaculated.

"I have slandered her; she has some good in her." "When I say that I am a Russian," resumed the princess, "it is merely a formal speech.

Love of country is a prejudice, an idea that has had its day, that had sense in the times of Epaminondas or of Theseus, but that has it no longer.

We live in the age of the telegraph, the locomotive; and I know of nothing more absurd now than a frontier, or more ridiculous than a patriot.

Rumour says that you fought like a hero in the insurrection of 1863; that you gave proof of incomparable prowess, and that you killed with your own hand ten Cossacks?
What harm had they done you, those poor Cossacks?
Do they not sometimes haunt your dreams?
Can you think of your victims without disquietude and without remorse ?" He replied, in a dry, haughty tone: "I really do not know, princess, how many Cossacks I have killed; but I do know that there are some subjects on which I do not love to expatiate." "You are right--I should not comprehend you.