The president was the first to break it. He rose with much dignity, and went up to Maria Stefanowna, who still stood, her cheeks aglow, her eyes aflame, watching the result of her words, trembling, yet hopeful.
“Maria Stefanowna,” he said simply, “I think I speak the words of all those assembled when I say ‘I thank you!’ ”
These few words seemed to relieve the tension. An enthusiastic vote of thanks was passed to Maria, who now, woman-like, feared she might break down through over-mastering emotion.
Harmony seemed restored once more. Mirkovitch only sat smoking grimly and silently; the others were chattering gaily, and Maria was assailed with questions.
“When can we hear from Dunajewski as to whether they have crossed the frontier safely?”
Maria Stefanowna had thought of everything.
“It is to be officially announced in the Fremdenblatt,” she said.
“And that very day, Mirkovitch, you will be relieved of your charge.”
“I think,” he said obstinately, “that all tyrants and their brood are best out of the world altogether. And in the meanwhile,” he added with his usual grimness, “we are to hope, I suppose, that Volenski and our papers are safe.”
But they refused to allow their enthusiasm to be damped. Hope reigned supreme in the committee-room in the Franzgasse to-night. The papers could not be in wrong hands, for the Tsarevitch was still a prisoner in the Heumarkt, and they themselves were still free; and if their papers were safe they had, they believed, every reason to hope that their messenger was likewise.