"It is ill answering that question. Yes, and yet No."
"Yes, Count. But to show you that the secret is in no way a suspicious one, I will make a suggestion. Where a man may not enter, a guest who is still a child may fitly enough be seen."
So saying, he opened a door and called:
"Alexander!"
In response, a tall sunburnt lad stepped from the adjacent room. His face betrayed much perplexity upon perceiving the strangers.
Feodor gently pushed him towards the younger youth.
"See," he said; "this is Count Paul von Ungern, a midshipman. Take him with you to see your mother; and be sure that you make good friends with each other."
Alexander gazed in wonder with his great dark eyes, first at his father and then at the strange lad. He then silently held out his hand to Paul, drew him towards him, and embraced him. Finally he linked his arm in Paul's and led him away to see his—mother.
The frank wonder expressed by the boy's flushed face quite disarmed the Commodore's suspicions. He began to believe that, after all, those walls might merely conceal the secret of some tragedy of passion. One might well have grounds, he imagined, for shutting oneself off from the world along with a woman whose face no one might look upon except a child no older than the tower itself.