“Oh, I could not now!” mademoiselle cried with a crimson face. “It would be as if I had sought it!”
He caught her hand, and pressed it to his lips. “Najine,” he said softly, “is that truthful? I could not break into your uncle’s house, but I should have found a way to bring you out of it at last. Perhaps, though,” he added, with a rare touch of diplomacy, “I am too poor a man to be compared to a czar.”
“For shame, M. de Lambert!” Najine cried angrily; “why taunt me with that? Have I deserved it?”
“Forgive me,” he replied, smiling; “you drove me to it. Najine, you will wed me?” he went on with emotion. “There is no other way to rescue you now. If you hesitate, they will not, and they will marry you to the czar. You must choose between us.”
She looked down at him with a charming smile. “I have chosen, monsieur,” she said softly; “but I will not have you risk your life for me. We could not escape to-night or to-morrow, and I must not go back to the house. I cannot again evade my aunt’s vigilance; she is more bent upon this unhappy matter than my uncle. Another aunt, my mother’s sister, whose husband is with the army in Livonia, is at Troïtsa. She has gone there as a pilgrim to pray for her family; she is very fond of me, and will be full of sympathy for my troubles. I have almost determined to go to her for the present, especially as I believe they would scarcely think of seeking me there, and if they do, she will help me.”
I saw the wisdom of her decision as, I think, did M. de Lambert, although he protested.
“Can you not stay with us to-night?” suggested Zénaïde; “why need any one know that you are here?”
“Impossible!” she exclaimed at once. “My aunt will search Moscow for me; she is very angry with me. I must go from the city.”
“Your aunt is certainly at Troïtsa, mademoiselle?” I asked.
“She has been there for some days, monsieur,” she replied.