"Madame," he asked without warning, "where is your daughter Kyra?"
The question had been expected, and madame lifted her wise eyes when she heard it.
"Ah!" she exclaimed in French, "so you are anxious to speak to Kyra again."
"Why not?" says His Majesty. "She told me many things I wished to hear; is that not a reason?"
"And your Majesty found them true?"
For an instant the Emperor seemed to be dreaming. Then, tapping the table lightly with his fingers, he said:
"In the main they were true. She told me that Moscow would be burned."
Madame Zchekofsky—for such I discovered the lady's name to be—feigned great pity.
"Ah, what a dreadful thing—and so many of your poor soldiers who suffered! Little did I think when I heard the child speak that such wisdom was in her keeping, but so it is, as your Majesty admits."
"Most willingly. I expected to hear more of it to-night. Is your daughter ill, or is she merely absent?"