“Good expectations!” the old lady scornfully repeated. “It would be more to the purpose if he had a good estate. But it appears his father was despoiled of everything, even to his clothes and his jewellery. While as for the young man himself, he has had half-a-dozen civil words from the Emperor of Russia. That is absolutely all. I fail to see how he can set up an establishment and do justice to a family upon that.”
“The Emperor, who is in full possession of all his history, would not have placed him in the Chevalier Guard if he had not intended to provide for him,” Henri said. “Do you know, my dear mother,” he asked rather abruptly, “that M. Pojarsky was in Moscow during the whole time of the Occupation?”
“I know he met you there; but how he came to be there himself I do not know.”
“Just like him not to speak of it. I can tell you, however, it was a piece of splendid gallantry from first to last. I heard it talked of even at Vilna. M. Pojarsky, young as he then was, stayed in the doomed city, at the peril of his life, to aid in that terrible work of destruction, which will never be forgotten while the world lasts. He helped to give Murat the warm reception he got there; and he discovered some hundreds of Russian wounded who lay concealed in the cellars, and must have died of starvation but for the food with which he supplied them. I am sure my honoured aunt and my dear mother will both agree with me that these services have established a claim upon his sovereign which no monarch would be likely to disregard, least of all the Emperor Alexander.”
The force of this statement was admitted by Madame de Salgues with half-reluctant candour, and by Madame de Talmont with genuine satisfaction. Here the discussion ended, though the conversation lasted some time longer. Finally it was arranged that Ivan’s suit was to be favourably received, upon an understanding that the marriage must on no account take place until he had the prospect of an assured and permanent competency.
No one had even alluded to what we should have thought the most important element in the problem—the inclination of Clémence herself. But what is unnamed is not necessarily unconsidered. The heart of the mother beat in unison with the heart of the child, although no words had passed between them. There were tears in the eyes of Madame de Talmont, but a thankful look in her quiet face, when at last she rose and said, “Now I think I may go and speak with Clémence.”
“Do so, dear mother,” said Henri, rising to open the door for her. “But, I pray thee, do not detain her long. For I have set my heart upon inducing her to walk with me as far as the gate of the hospital, to see the Czar.”
“And what need of that, pray?” asked Madame de Salgues. “I understand the Emperor of Russia is to pass through this street on his way to the Castle. We shall all see him from these windows. What more can any one desire?”
“Any one who had a sister as pretty as mine might very well desire to take a walk with her in the town, when all the world is making holiday,” returned Henri, laughing.
“Well, that is not so unreasonable. Young people of course like a little pleasure; and the very best people—gens comme il faut—will all be on foot in the streets to-day. But I trust, M. Henri,” the old lady added more gravely as the two were left alone together, “that you may never regret having thrown your influence into the scale of this Russian. Even supposing the young man to be the most desirable parti in the world, think of the banishment from civilized society, and the frightful climate of St. Petersburg! Clémence might have done better—much better. Not to speak of M. de Cranfort, a very excellent person, bien rangé, and with a sufficient property, who is a constant visitor here, and I believe not indifferent to your sister, there are others by no means to be despised.”