There were tears in the young fellow’s eyes, and his face from the crimson of embarrassment was white with shame. I turned and took his hand.
“My boy,” I said, “take up the battle of life,—cast behind you your shame, forget the sting of poverty. Take your sword and carve out a new future. To the noble soul there is always the star of hope. Go to your king and serve him openly, and forget—live down the past.”
He bent his head and kissed my hand, and I felt his hot tears upon it; from my heart I pitied him, and resolved that when we parted, he should have cause to remember that Philippe de Brousson was neither ungrateful nor ungenerous. More than once in my career I have seen young men crushed by the cruel load of poverty that others fought with a better heart. We are not all made in the same mould, happily; for if we were, there would be too great a press upon the road to fame, and the less hope for individual success. The trial that burns the dross from one soul consumes another, and not all of us can look fate in the face or laugh at destiny.
The walk to my quarters was concluded in silence, and on reaching our destination I fortunately sent the Swede to the rear door, else he would have stumbled upon the guest whom I found waiting, thus leaping into the teeth of another danger; for when I opened my door I found within the imperial equerry, M. Shein.
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE GREATEST ROMANOFF.
M. Shein was standing at the foot of the stairs, and there was an expression of triumph on his face. After all, he was but a boy, and my treatment of him had wounded his pride; doubtless, he rejoiced at this opportunity to return to the charge. My own feeling at seeing him was one of relief that I had sent the Swede to the other door; Shein was not keen, but was observant enough to detect Lenk’s nationality in his blond face.
“We meet soon again, M. Shein,” I remarked calmly; “I trust that you have not waited long.”
“A quarter of an hour only, your Excellency,” he replied with an air of importance. “His Majesty the Czar desires your presence immediately at the palace.”
“I am at his Majesty’s disposal,” I said at once, “and will not delay you a moment.”
Leaving him, I gave a few hurried directions to Pierrot in regard to the Swede, and then, returning, went without further delay to the Kremlin. I knew well the significance of the czar’s summons, and prepared myself for the ordeal. I was not without some doubt as to the safety of M. de Lambert and his bride; if by any evil chance they were overtaken or betrayed, I could not judge what would be their fate. My reflections were therefore of a nature that did not permit me to converse with my young companion or even to feel amusement at his evident triumph. He undoubtedly believed that I would have to give a clear account to the czar for all the facts that I had practically refused to give to him, and rejoiced thereat. When we reached the palace, he conducted me to an ante-room off the czar’s private apartments, where he left me to announce my arrival. In a few moments I was admitted to Peter’s presence, and found him sitting in a large chair by the fire. There were one or two attendants in the room, but he dismissed them at my entrance. He was wearing the dress of a common sailor, and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top and without a collar; he had laid aside his peruke, and his dark hair was ruffled as I had often seen it in his stormy moods. In an instant I contrasted him with Mentchikof, in his splendid dress; but the czar’s huge figure had a dignity of its own, which no garb could disguise; there was something in his personality which was profoundly impressive. I advanced within a few feet of him, and, making my salutation, apologized for my appearance, for my boots were splashed from the miry streets.