"I will find her," replied Ivor, with stern brevity; and, accepting Patouchki's words as a dismissal, he bowed and left the room.
CHAPTER XV.
"THIS LITTLE HAND."
Late that same evening Tolskoi made his appearance at the Palace, in the outer salon, where he found the usual gathering of officials and dames d'honneur with their invited guests. His reception was a flattering one, and his return to the beau-mondaine circles hailed with acclamation.
The heavy curtains to the inner salon were closely drawn, indicative of the Tsar and Tsarina's desire to remain unmolested for the present. The evening was very warm, and most of the long windows stood open, the wind gently swaying the light draperies.
Beneath the casements the Neva crept by in slow rippling motion; the moonlight falling athwart its grey opaqueness, woke here and there sudden gleams of radiance. It struck also across the blank stone wall of the Trubetskoi bastion, accentuating its grim outlines, and, shooting far upwards, tipped the lance-like spire of Peter's Fortress with golden fire.
The Countess Vera was the first to welcome Tolskoi, smiling up at him, as she did so, and waving her great fan of scented lace to and fro languidly.
"Oh, are you returned, mon cher? What a pleasure! And what a surprise to some one! Oh, yes, she is here, and quite ravishingly beautiful. For the moment she is with her Imperial Majesty. How hot it is, mon cher, and what a cruelty that the Court regards no one's convenience, save its own! One so longs to be flying westward."
"Is it so unsupportable?" replied Ivor in his clear youthful voice, looking very handsome and young as he bent down towards the miniature lady. "Upon my word, when I am near the Countess Vera, I lose all sensation but one of supreme well-being."