For a long time the two women hoped it was only a swoon.  Annouschka sprinkled his face with water; Vaninka put salts to his nose.  All was in vain.  During the long conversation which the general had had with his daughter, and which had lasted more than half an hour, Foedor, unable to get out of the chest, as the lid was closed by a spring, had died for want of air.  The position of the two girls shut up with a corpse was frightful.  Annouschka saw Siberia close at hand; Vaninka, to do her justice, thought of nothing but Foedor.  Both were in despair.  However, as the despair of the maid was more selfish than that of her mistress, it was Annouschka who first thought of a plan of escaping from the situation in which they were placed.

“My lady,” she cried suddenly, “we are saved.”  Vaninka raised her head and looked at her attendant with her eyes bathed in tears.

“Saved?” said she, “saved?  We are, perhaps, but Foedor!”

“Listen now,” said Annouschka:  “your position is terrible, I grant that, and your grief is great; but your grief could be greater and your position more terrible still.  If the general knew this.”

“What difference would it make to me?” said Vaninka.  “I shall weep for him before the whole world.”

“Yes, but you will be dishonoured before the whole world!  To-morrow your slaves, and the day after all St. Petersburg, will know that a man died of suffocation while concealed in your chamber.  Reflect, my lady:  your honour is the honour of your father, the honour of your family.”

“You are right,” said Vaninka, shaking her head, as if to disperse the gloomy thoughts that burdened her brain,—­“you are right, but what must we do?”

“Does my lady know my brother Ivan?”

“Yes.”

“We must tell him all.”

“Of what are you thinking?” cried Vaninka.  “To confide in a man?  A man, do I say?  A serf! a slave!”

“The lower the position of the serf and slave, the safer will our secret be, since he will have everything to gain by keeping faith with us.”

“Your brother is a drunkard,” said Vaninka, with mingled fear and disgust.

“That is true,” said Annouschka; “but where will you find a slave who is not?  My brother gets drunk less than most, and is therefore more to be trusted than the others.  Besides, in the position in which we are we must risk something.”

“You are right,” said Vaninka, recovering her usual resolution, which always grew in the presence of danger.  “Go and seek your brother.”

“We can do nothing this morning,” said Annouschka, drawing back the window curtains.  “Look, the dawn is breaking.”

“But what can we do with the body of this unhappy man?” cried Vaninka.

“It must remain hidden where it is all day, and this evening, while you are at the Court entertainment, my brother shall remove it.”

“True,” murmured Vaninka in a strange tone, “I must go to Court this evening; to stay away would arouse suspicion.  Oh, my God! my God!”