The empress started from her reverie and sadly shook her head. “My poor Vera,” she replied, “you must renounce all hope.”
The young girl turned pale. “Renounce all hope!” exclaimed she. “O madame! can that be your advice? Can it be there is no hope?”
The empress, without replying, seated herself in her arm-chair, took a book from the étagère, and began turning over the leaves as if she wished to put an end to the conversation. Vera's eyes flashed for an instant, and it was with difficulty she repressed an explosion of grief or irritation. She remained silent, however, and stood beside the table absently plucking the petals from the flowers in a crystal vase before her.
The empress meanwhile kept her eyes fastened on her book, but presently she raised them and looked at the clock. “I do not need you any longer, Vera. It is ten o'clock. You are going to the Countess G——'s this evening, I think.”
“Yes, madame, if your majesty has no further orders to give me.”
“No, I have nothing more.—Ah! I forgot. Open that drawer,” pointing to the other end of the apartment. “You will find a letter there.”
Vera obeyed, and brought the letter to her mistress.
“Be sure to forward it to the address,” said the latter. “It is the permission for the Princess —— to accompany her husband to Siberia. I am happy to be able to render that heroic woman this sad service. But she is not the only one.”
“What a fate those women are bringing on themselves!” said Vera, shuddering with horror.
“Yes, it is indeed fearful,” said the empress; “but I admire them, and will serve them every way in my power.”