Sick at heart, Mendel sought that worthy functionary. He carefully read the petition, put it in his pocket and promised to look up the case and report it to the Governor as soon as possible.
It was poor consolation that the Rabbi took to his people. Their petition had accomplished nothing. It was not even possible to discover where Joseph was concealed and whether he had already been sentenced or not. Kathinka was heart-broken. She knew not what to do. A praiseworthy impulse to go to the palace and throw herself at the Governor's feet was checked by the thought that Loris might be there to delight in her humiliation and to use his power to defeat her prayer.
After several weeks of suspense, the poor girl received a letter. It was in a strange handwriting and she opened it with trembling hands. She glanced hastily at the signature and with a cry allowed the missive to fall to the ground.
"What is it, Kathinka?" asked the Rabbi, who had been sitting near-by.
"Read it, father; it is from Drentell!" cried his daughter.
The Rabbi took the letter up anxiously and his eyes ran eagerly over its contents. Kathinka saw the deadly pallor that spread over his countenance, watched his quivering lip and darkening brow. He read to the end, and crumpling the letter in his hand, he threw himself upon the sofa in a paroxysm of grief. The girl who had never before seen her father so affected became seriously alarmed.
"What is it, father? What does he write?" she asked.
"Read it, my child; it is for you," sobbed the poor man. "Read it and decide," and he handed the letter to his daughter, while the tears ran down his cheeks.
Kathinka, with varied emotions, opened out the paper and read the contents. The note was as follows:
Beloved Kathinka:—You will justly reproach me for having remained silent so long, but do not attribute it to a waning of my affection. I love you more devotedly, more tenderly than ever. Your cruelty to me at our last interview has but served to fan the flame of my passion. I have since thought only of you. I know your heart is set against me on account of the arrest of your betrothed. Do not blame me for having a hand in his incarceration. The law of the land is severe, and although I exerted my influence, I was powerless to stay its hand in the matter. Your friend is condemned to a life-long exile in Siberia. It is a terrible fate, worse than death itself. You alone can save him from it. Consent to come to me, to share my heart, to make me the happiest of men, and I myself will plead with the Governor and obtain his pardon. The day that sees you at my side will restore your friend to liberty. Do not deem me cruel. I would serve you if you but gave me the right to do so. I await your reply. LORIS.