A boy in Russian dress, desperately waving his arms and bowed down to the ground, overtook her.

She skated a little uncertainly; taking her hands out of the little muff that hung on a cord, she held them ready for emergency, and looking towards Levin, whom she had recognized, she smiled at him, and at her own fears.

When she had got round the turn, she gave herself a push off with one foot, and skated straight up to Shtcherbatsky.

Clutching at his arm, she nodded smiling to Levin.