Presently she started up. “Yet why do I say, ‘Pardon him.’ He has done nothing that needs pardon. He has been ever loyal and faithful. Do him justice! Redress the wrong that has been done him, and restore to yourself a devoted officer and servant!”
“If only for his child’s sake—” the emperor began.
But Paulina interrupted him with: “Not for mine! Not because I happened to do you a service! But because he himself deserves to be freed—he who has been punished as a traitor, when he was none.”
“Never fear, little Conscientious!” said the monarch, laughing. “Entire justice shall be done. Your father shall have the benefit of a close investigation into his case. Will that satisfy you?”
“Quite,” she said in her grave way.
“And now, you will tell all your adventures, my father, will you not?” said the calm, sweet voice of Hermione.
“I will tell you the whole story,” said the emperor, drawing her within his arm, as before, while he left his other hand in the grasp of Paulina. “I was on my road hither from Kief to keep the Christmas time, when the sledge was by accident overturned, just on the borders of the forest. My people helped me into a sort of miserable cabin,—the nearest at hand; and, as my clothes had become wet with the snow, when I arrived there I donned some of the good man’s dry apparel in place of mine own, until they could be dried. While this was being done, feeling stifled with the smoky atmosphere of the cabin, I strolled forth into the open air. The snow-storm had abated. I wandered on, striking into the forest, until, at length, the snow beginning to fall thickly again, I woke up to a sense of danger,—that I was losing my way,—that I should be unable to retrace it,—that I should find difficulty in making my people aware of my situation. I shouted, but in vain. I plunged desperately on, but felt that I only involved myself further, and that each step but diminished the chances of rescue. In this perplexity I encountered my little friend here, who kindly took me in hand, and managed for me, when I could not have helped myself,—Emperor of all the Russias as I was,—and bit of a thing as she was. While we were housed at her friendly peasant woman’s hut,—whither she had conducted me for food and rest,—it happened that my faithful Ivan joined me, having found where I had taken refuge. He had set out in search of me, the instant he learned I was missing, and had succeeded in tracking me there. It was while Paulina was in the inner room that he entered the outer one where I sat. He could hardly restrain an exclamation of joy when he discovered me; but I made him a signal of silence, and in a low voice rapidly explained my desire that he should go back to his fellows, bid them meet me on the following day with the carriage at the village post-house, and observe, with them, the utmost care in avoiding any betrayal of my identity.”
“Ah, I thought I heard voices!” exclaimed Paulina, who had been listening breathlessly to this account; “low as you spoke, I heard you!”
“Your instructions were obeyed, my dear father, and you were able to remain unknown for any other than the poor man you seemed?” said Hermione.