“Ah! mon père, why were you not at the masquerade to-night to witness my triumph? See, I bring home the tiara given as the prize for the daintiest costume. Do I not look beautiful?” she added, placing the ornament upon her dark hair and glancing with pardonable pride at her image in the mirror.
“’Twere better if you were less beautiful!”
There was in his words an intonation that caused Pauline to look hard at him as if she were trying to read his thoughts. He returned her look, and for a few moments they stood gazing at each other.
Pauline did not, however, seem at all disconcerted.
“Mon père, how grave you are! I will show you by and by that you have reason for joy.”
“Pauline, my mind is made up. Within a few hours we set out for Lovisa.”
“Lovisa! In Finland?”
“And thence to Sweden. You and I are leaving St. Petersburg for ever.”
“For ever! That is a long time, mon père, especially when I have the best reason in the world for remaining in Russia.”