“Yes; I remember her well. But why was she there? and what became of her? And did father know that she was there? or was it only you and mother and me that saw her?”
“Too many questions at once, Lex! I will tell you all I know. The princess was accidentally captured by father’s troop in one of its excursions to a neighboring village. She had fled from Warsaw a few days before, when the insurrection first broke out, and she had not yet found the means of going to St. Petersburgh. Father must have known who she was, though he affected not to know. He kept the secret to himself and his family, fearing, perhaps, that some harm would come to the lady if she were discovered. It was while she was at our house that our blessed mother died. Father, you know, was at that time engaged with the Russians, without the walls. The princess and myself only were at mother’s bedside when she breathed her last. Her mind was bright and calm. Indeed, it seemed to me that there was something of prophecy in her spirit then. A look so beautiful I never saw. ‘Sweet lady,’ said she, taking the hand of the princess, ‘I see how this dreadful strife will end. Poor Poland is destined to fall—and many a noble heart must fall with her. I know not that my gallant husband may survive; but if he do, he will be an exile and an outcast. For him, I have few fears, for I know that he has a spirit that cannot be crushed or broken. In Siberia, he will still be Pultova. But, princess, forgive if a mother’s heart, in the shadow of death, sinks at the idea of leaving children, and especially this dear girl, in such circumstances. What will become of Kathinka, if my fears prove prophetic?’
“The lady wept, but answered not for some time. At last she said, looking into mother’s face, which seemed like that of an angel—‘I feel your appeal, dear lady, and I will answer it. Your husband has indeed put my life in peril, by bringing me here; but he did it in the discharge of duty, and in ignorance of my name and character. He has at least given me safety, and I owe him thanks. I owe you, also, a debt of gratitude, and it shall be repaid to your child. You know my power with the emperor is small, for I have been a friend to Poland, and this has almost brought me into disgrace at court. But fear not. If Kathinka should ever need a friend, let her apply to Lodoiska.’
“Such were the exact words of the princess. Our mother soon after died, and in a few days I contrived the lady’s escape,—which was happily effected. Father never spoke to me on the subject. He must have known it, and approved of it, but perhaps he wished not to take an active part in the matter.”
“This is very interesting,” said Alexis; “but what has it to do with the sable skins?”
“A great deal—they must go to the princess, and she must make a market for them at court.”
“And who is to take them to her?”
“You—you perhaps—or perhaps I.”
“You? This is indeed a girl’s romance. However, there can be no harm in getting sable skins, for they bring the best price.” After much further conversation between the brother and sister, they parted for the night; and the next day, with a father’s blessing and a sister’s tenderest farewell, the young hunter set out on his long and arduous adventures.
(To be continued.)