Perhaps that look was too grim, perhaps there was an expression of aversion in it, even a malignant enjoyment of her fright--if it were not a fancy left by her dreams; but suddenly, after almost a moment of expectation, the poor woman's face wore a look of absolute terror; it twitched convulsively; she lifted her trembling hands and suddenly burst into tears, exactly like a frightened child; in another moment she would have screamed.

But Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch pulled himself together; his face changed in one instant, and he went up to the table with the most cordial and amiable smile.
"I'm sorry, Marya Timofyevna, I frightened you coming in suddenly when you were asleep," he said, holding out his hand to her.
The sound of his caressing words produced their effect.

Her fear vanished, although she still looked at him with dismay, evidently trying to understand something.

She held out her hands timorously also.

At last a shy smile rose to her lips.
"How do you do, prince ?" she whispered, looking at him strangely.
"You must have had a bad dream," he went on, with a still more friendly and cordial smile.
"But how do you know that I was dreaming about that ?" And again she began trembling, and started back, putting up her hand as though to protect herself, on the point of crying again.