“Ah!” the czar ejaculated sharply, his brows bending in a dark frown and his lips twitching; “and who is this prisoner, madam?”
“Guillaume de Lambert, an officer of the household troops of the King of France,” she replied in a clear voice.
“There is the Ambassador of France,” said the czar coldly, pointing at me; “why not let him prefer this suit?”
She was still kneeling, and looked up at him with an earnest appeal in her blue eyes.
“Turn not a deaf ear, your Majesty,” she exclaimed with feeling. “M. de Lambert is an innocent man, and it is your duty to do justice to the innocent, for are you not an anointed king? Judgment and mercy belong to you, little father, and it is to your honor to show justice to the foreigner. He has been betrayed into prison; they tell me that his life has been attempted. Show mercy, sire, and set him free.”
The czar looked at her keenly, strong emotions contending in his passionate face.
“You plead with eloquence, Najine,” he said, still coldly. “Of what interest is this young man’s fate to you? Answer me freely, if you hope for mercy for him!”
Najine looked up into Peter’s dark face, and her lips quivered.
“Your Majesty,” she replied in a low voice, but every ear was strained to catch her words, “I ask his liberty—because I love him.”
The czar drew a deep breath, and the tic convulsed his features.