“But who was it?” asked I.
“Red Riding Hood,” answered my grandmother, lowering her voice. “I suppose, as in the fairy tale, the cruel wolves have eaten poor Tmoutarakanovka.”[21]
My grandmother after this spoke no more, and I, believing the wolves had really eaten the child, forbore to ask any more questions.
But now I clearly remembered that lovely green and willowy Tarakanovka and the mysterious tale of my grandmother. That century was rich in fairy-like lore, and one might be pardoned for believing in all sorts of miracles.
“Well, have you decided, sir?” broke in Charnomski, seeing that, lost in thought, I was silent.
“Explain to me just what the Princess expects of me.”
“Only one thing, sir lieutenant, only one thing,” answered the wily envoy, getting up and bowing. “To take this letter of the Princess to Count Orloff; that is the only thing she asks of you.… Tell the count how and where you met the Russian Grand Duchess Elizabeth, and with what impatience she awaits his answer to her first letter and manifesto. On the result of your mission depends her further course of action and her departure for the Sultan’s court.”
Charnomski took from his breast pocket a letter, and handed it to me.
“That is her only request,” he repeated, bowing again, and insinuatingly looking me in the face, with a half-look of entreaty in his large grey eyes.
After having thought it all over, I felt that I ought not to refuse, and I took the letter. My duty as an officer demanded that I should let the count know everything. He must decide what should be done; that would be his affair.