WHO ART THOU?
There was a window on the landing like the one in the kitchen, and from it one could look out on to the same crowded, uninteresting world—the red roofs, the yellow walls, the dusty yard. Everything was strange, foreign, unnecessary—quite unlike the sweet intimate figures of his dreams.
Grishka climbed up on to the worn slab of the window-seat, and leaned his back up against one of the wide-open frames, but he did not look out into the yard. A brightly decorated palace showed itself to his gaze; he saw in front of him a door leading to the apartment of the auburn-haired Princess Turandina. The door was opened wide, and the princess herself, seated before a high narrow window, weaving fine linen, looked round at the sound of the opening door, and stopping with her shapely white hand the noisily humming spinning-wheel, looked at him with a tender smile, saying:
"Come nearer to me, dear boy. I have waited a long time for you. Don't be afraid, come along."
Grishka went up to her and knelt at her feet, and she asked him:
"Do you know who I am?"
Grishka was charmed by the golden tones of her voice, and he answered:
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