“You will be glad to hear that my grandmother’s health has improved,” he said in answer to the inquiries of Clémence. “Madame de Talmont also is very well; and your brother is flourishing, in every sense of the word. I have a portmanteau full of letters and packages for you. How is Prince Ivan?”
“Well, thank you. I am sorry he is out just now; but I expect him home in an hour or two.—My little son, ring the bell for thy mother.”
The little mujik, who had been looking at the stranger with large, blue, wide-open eyes, instantly obeyed.
“Come here, my little man,” said Emile, stretching out his arms to him. “What a fine boy! Ma cousine, is this your eldest?”
“My first-born is in heaven, as you know,” said Clémence in a voice low and gentle, but not sad. “This is our eldest boy—Alexander.”
The little Alexander came willingly to Emile, and considered it quite the proper thing to be kissed by him; for had he not just seen him bestow a similar attention upon “Maman”?
Emile looked admiringly at the child’s handsome face, as he seated him on his knee and gave him a bunch of seals to play with. “He is like his father,” said he; “while his brother resembles you,” he added, glancing at Feodor. “There is no mistaking those soft dark eyes with the long silken lashes. What is his name, ma cousine?”
“Feodor; in memory of the noble old man who was to his father as a father.”
Just then a servant entered; and Clémence, finding that Emile had left his luggage at a hotel, had it sent for, and gave the other directions hospitality required. Meanwhile, Emile carried on a conversation with the little mujik on his knee; who, not in the least shy, put his hand on the breast of his coat, and then tried to unbutton it, saying, “Where is your star—the beautiful, shiny thing, all made of sparks of fire?”
“That must be a star of diamonds,” laughed Emile. “Is that the sort of plaything you are accustomed to, my little prince?”