So, with sudden resolve, I took the Nord Express once more back across Europe, and four days later found myself again in my old room at the Embassy, where Stoyanovitch brought me a command to audience from the Emperor.
How can I adequately describe the interview, which took place in a spacious room in the Palace of Tzarskoie-Selo.
“So your friend Madame de Rosen was unfortunately dead before you reached Yakutsk,” remarked His Majesty gravely, standing near the window in a brilliant uniform covered with glittering decorations, for he had just returned from an official function. “I heard of it,” he added. “The Governor-General Vorontzoff reported to me by telegraph. Indeed, Trewinnard, I had frequent reports of your progress. I am sorry you undertook such a journey all in vain.”
“I beg of Your Majesty’s clemency towards the dead woman’s daughter Luba,” I asked.
But he only made a gesture of impatience, saying:
“I have already demanded a report on the whole case. Until that comes, I regret I cannot act. Vorontzoff will see that the girl is not sent farther north, and no doubt she will be well treated.”
In a few brief words I described some of the scenes I had witnessed on the Great Post Road, but the Emperor only sighed heavily and replied:
“I regret it, I tell you. But how can I control the loyal Cossacks sent to escort those who have made attempts upon my life? I admit most freely that the exile system is wrong, cruel—perhaps inhuman. Yet how can it be altered?”
“If Your Majesty makes searching inquiry, he will find some terrible injustices committed in the name of the law.”
“In confidence, I tell you, I am having secret inquiry made in certain quarters,” he replied. “And, Trewinnard, I wish you, if you will, to make out for me a full and confidential report on your journey, and I will then have all your allegations investigated.”