“The doctor has quite given her up,” added the field-marshal. “Not only her days, but her hours are numbered.”
Father Peter crossed himself.
“She wishes to be prepared,” continued the prince, as if choosing his words. “It is not for me to teach you what to do. Most probably, like a good shepherd, you will lead her to a full Confession and Repentance as to who she is, and if she has taken a name not belonging to her, and who incited her to do it?… Will you do this?”
The priest lingered with his answer.
“Give your word that you will help justice.”
“I know my duty and my obligations as minister of God,” answered Father Peter, drily, coughing.
“You may go,” said the prince, bowing. “You will be conducted where you are needed. As to me, I hope you will excuse the trouble I have given you at such a late hour.”
The carriage, with the priest and Oushakoff, took the road to the fortress. At the door of the commandant’s they noticed another carriage.
The priest was led into a special room, where he saw the Général Procureur, Prince Viazimski. Near the prince stood the tall, manly, ruddy-faced commandant of the fortress, Tchernishoff, and, near the latter, his still young-looking and smartly dressed wife.