“All went well,” replied her father. “The sledge met us at the place appointed, and the men played their parts to perfection.
“Well, when we arrived here,” he resumed, “Little Scrupulous must needs take it into her head that I was a burglar, stealing into a strange dwelling-house, and roundly she took me to task for my evil deeds, and for endeavoring to make her an accomplice. But I found means to pacify her suspicions, until your appearance did them all away, teaching her to confide in the belief that your father was an honest man, as I have come to the same conclusion respecting hers, through a like guarantee. Well is it for a parent, when his child’s ingenuous face vouches for his own integrity.”
Paulina’s father was recalled from exile; his innocence triumphantly proved, while he himself was reinstated in all his former possessions; the emperor graciously and distinctly signifying that it was a simple act of justice, and that he himself rejoiced to have a faithful subject restored to his service.
On his return, he found his little daughter in high favor at court. She was encouraged and indulged by the emperor, who took a strange fancy to that familiarity and blunt sincerity in her, the least approach to which he would have so strongly resented in any other being. Hermione took a great liking to Paulina, and had for her that firmest and most enduring of regards, an attachment founded on confidence, esteem, and respect. They grew up together, less like princess and dependant, than friends.
Her father’s military duties taking him away from home a great deal, little Paulina remained with the princess, eventually becoming one of her ladies in waiting, and finally marrying a Sicilian nobleman. In her far-away home she often entertained her children by telling them tales of the fatherland, not the least interesting of which was the story of the happiest Christmas she ever knew,—the one on which she rescued the emperor in the forest, and obtained her father’s pardon.