“Finish, I conjure you, if you are not mad in speaking to me so, or I in listening to you—if we are not both deprived of our reason!”
Vera clasped her hands, and passionately exclaimed: “Oh! I beg you to have pity on him!” She stopped, choked with emotion.
Fleurange continued to gaze at her with the same expression, and, without speaking, made a sign for her to continue. She seemed to concentrate her attention in order to comprehend the words addressed her.
“I am waiting,” she said at last. “I am listening attentively and calmly; speak to me in the same manner.”
Vera resumed in a calmer tone: “Well, this morning just as I had finished reading your petition and learned for the first time who the exile was you wished to accompany—at that very moment the emperor arrived at the palace and sent for me.”
“The emperor!” said Fleurange, with surprise.
“Yes, and can you imagine what he wished to say to me? You could not, and I am not surprised, for you are not aware how earnestly I had solicited George's pardon, and, to this end, how zealously I had sought out every circumstance calculated to conciliate his sovereign. Well, what the [pg 741] emperor wished to inform me was that this pardon would be granted me—me, do you understand?—but on two conditions.”
“His pardon!” exclaimed Fleurange. “Go on, I am listening.—”
“The first, that he should pass four years on his estates in Livonia without leaving them.—” Vera stopped.
“I hear; and next?” said Fleurange, raising her eyes.