They were now interrupted by something not foreign to the subject of their discourse. A lady, unpretendingly clad, who till now had remained aloof, approached the young maid of honor, and, with a faltering, respectful tone, asked if the petition addressed his imperial majesty had been granted.
“Yes,” said Vera eagerly. “Permission has been accorded. The Princess —— received it this very hour. I left it myself at her door, on my way here.”
She kindly extended her hand to the person who addressed her. The latter bent down as if to kiss it, but Vera prevented it by cordially embracing her.
“Behold a true, faithful friend in misfortune,” said she, as the other left them. “She herself is capable of going to Siberia with her whose dame de compagnie she was in happier days. But then, the Princess —— has in her misfortunes the happiness of feeling herself beloved and respected by all.”
“Assuredly,” said Adelardi. “She is really an admirable woman.”
“So admirable that she is beyond my comprehension.”
“How so?”
“I do not understand how a person can resolve on the course she wishes to pursue—she and the others.”
“What!” said Adelardi, looking at her with surprise. “You do not understand how a woman can thus wholly devote herself to the man—the husband whom she loves.”
Vera shook her head. “No,” said she. “I do not wish to appear better than I am. If I were in such a position, if I had the misfortune of loving one of those convicts, he might rely on my exertions to obtain his pardon, and to use every means in my power to that end. But, as to sharing his lot and following him to Siberia, no, my dear marquis, I frankly acknowledge that is a proof of devoted affection I feel wholly incapable of.”