“‘I must ask you one. Are you young Steffanos Saveleff, my old friend’s son?’
“‘I am,’ I answered, bowing my head. ‘And oh, father, I would not have entered your house had you given me time to think of the danger I might place you in; and you, I am sure, will not betray me.’
“‘Speak not of it, my son. You have eaten of my loaf and my salt, and drunk of my cup, and you are safe. No one saw you enter, and no one need see you depart. Rest a little while, and then go on your way. I must not venture to harbour you longer than a few hours. Before daylight you should be far from this.’
“‘Thanks, thanks, father!’ I exclaimed. ‘And now you know who I am, will you advise me how to proceed? Have I a chance of rescuing my parents, should they be still alive? You know that I am betrothed to Aneouta. Can I save her from the fate to which she is doomed?’
“Soukhoroukof leaned back in his chair and thought for some time. ‘I have an idea,’ he exclaimed at length. ‘The Emperor, our great Czar, is about to be crowned shortly. On such an occasion he will surely grant the requests of his loving subjects. Get a petition drawn up: go to Moscow: present it. Tell the Czar your whole story. He will be interested. If he grants your petition, as he may, ask him boldly to increase the favour by enabling you to marry Aneouta. Say no more than that you are betrothed to a beautiful girl who loves you, and that difficulties which the Czar alone can overcome lie in the way of your nuptials.’
“‘Oh, my kind father, the advice you give is excellent,’ I answered; ‘but thousands will be offering similar petitions, and what chance shall I have?’
“‘You will have as good a chance as others,’ he replied. ‘Try and be one of the first. But I doubt if many will venture to present petitions. The difficulty of reaching the city is great, and few, even if they wish it, will be allowed to go, while those who dwell there are not likely to have any petitions to present. Try your chance, at all events.’
“‘I will, I will,’ I exclaimed, grasping eagerly at the proposal, as a sinking man does at a straw, though I had little hope of its success. ‘But how shall I reach Moscow?’ I asked. ‘It is a long, long way, I fear, from this.’
“‘Go to the banks of the Volga; you will there find steamers going up to Nishni; get on board one of them, and your way will then be easy.’
“I warmly thanked the kind Soukhoroukof for his advice, and rose to take my departure. I was unwilling to jeopardise him by remaining a moment longer under his roof than was necessary. ‘One thing more I would wish to speak about before I go,’ said I, taking his hand. ‘Oh, my father, if you would but study that book on which we place our faith, how happy, how wise it would make you!’