I rose, casting him aside. “Let you find her,” I cried, with passion; “you little fool, do you take me for a man of stone?”
And I went, searching for a sword and pistol, to another room, and had found them and fastened them at my belt, and chosen a long cloak that would muffle me, when I found him again on his knees at my feet.
“You little rogue,” I said kindly, “why beset me? Do you think a man fears to risk his neck?”
He shook his head and, laying both hands over his heart, besought me with mute gestures.
“You will kill her also,” he protested, “the Princess Daria!”
At this I paused; the little creature’s wisdom had been almost equal to his devotion. I could not afford to spurn either the one or the other.
“What, then, can I do?”
“Let me go,” he pleaded.
“Ay, go, by all means,” I said promptly, “but I also must be stirring. But content you, I will not go to the czarevna until all else fails, but I will find the princess if she is still on the face of this old earth of ours—that I swear, on the honour of a French gentleman!”
His face lighted a little at the opening of my speech, but clouded at the end, and I saw that he feared that I would blunder, and, touched by the creature’s devotion, I laid my hand kindly on his head and thanked him for his courage and his wit in saving us in the palace and for his willingness to serve me. It pleased him; a strange light flickered in his eyes, he touched my coat hurriedly, and kissed his own hand afterwards.