“She is safe,” Ramodanofsky said. “I found how matters were turning, and sent her to the Kremlin; she is under the protection of Sophia.”
After a moment, he turned to me with more emotion in his face than I had ever seen there before.
“It is to you, then, M. le Vicomte,” he said, “that I owe my daughter’s life, as well as my own. I will not forget the debt.”
Zénaïde was on his other side, but she glanced across at me, and, for the first time on that terrible day, a smile shone in her eyes. I think that he saw the look and read it, for he was a keen observer; and I saw his expression change to one of deep gravity. Walking rapidly, it was not long before we reached my own door, and Pierrot, taking the lead, ushered us in. I conducted Zénaïde and her father to my sitting-room, and then went to order some food, for I was hungry myself, and felt sure that Zénaïde must be in need of some refreshment, if she could eat at all after our dreadful experience. Going to the lower hall, I called Pierrot, and gave him my orders to serve us as dainty a meal as he could with the means at hand. After concluding my instructions, I turned to go back to my guests; but seeing the closed door at the end of the hall, suddenly remembered Polotsky. It occurred to me in a flash that the man must be suffering if he had been forgotten there, and I went rapidly down the hall. My hand was on the latch, when Pierrot overtook me and plucked my sleeve.
“Do not go in there, M. le Vicomte!” he exclaimed, in a strange voice.
I looked around at him angrily; he did not attempt such interference as a rule. The fellow’s honest face was pale, and as full of horror as if he had seen a specter.
“What is the matter with you, knave?” I asked, half angry, half amused, for there was something in the frightened look on his usually stolid face which was absurd. “Have you attended to the wretch in here, or have you forgotten, and don’t want me to know it?”
He still held my sleeve, staring at the door as if he expected Satan to appear.
“It doesn’t matter, my lord,” he replied, in a low voice, “whether he is forgotten or not. He will never need any attention, except from the grave-digger.”
I made an attempt to open the door, but he still held me back.