“I shall receive him in audience to-night, and shall give this to him,” he said. “The punishment I can afterwards consider.”
Then, after a pause, he added:
“I have to thank you, Danilo Danilovitch, for all that you have revealed to me. Go and tell your comrades of the Revolution all that I have said and what I have done. Tell them that their Emperor will himself see that justice is accorded them—that his one object in future shall be to secure, by God’s grace, the peace, prosperity and tranquillity of the Russian nation.”
Then the Emperor bowed as sign that the audience was at an end, and the man, unused to the etiquette of Court, bowed, turned, and wishing us farewell, walked out.
“All this utterly astounds me, Trewinnard,” said His Majesty, when Danilovitch had gone. He was speaking as a man, not as an Emperor. “Yet what Tattie has revealed only confirms what I suspected regarding the death of my poor brother Peter,” he went on. “You recollect that I told you my suspicions—of my secret—on the day of the fourth Court ball last year. It is now quite plain. He was ruthlessly killed by the one man in my entourage whom I have so foolishly believed to be my friend. Ah! How grossly one may be deceived—even though he be an Emperor!” and he sighed, drawing his strong hand wearily across his brow.
After a pause he added: “I have to thank you, Trewinnard, for thus tearing the scales from my eyes. Indeed, I have to thank you for much in connection with what I have learned to-day.”
“No, Sire,” was my reply. “Rather thank Her Imperial Highness. To her efforts all is due. She has sacrificed her great love for a most worthy man in the performance of this, her duty. Had she not resolved to return to Russia and speak openly at risk of giving you offence, she might have remained in England—or, rather, in Scotland, still preserving her incognita, and still retaining at her side the honest, upright young Englishman with whom she has been in love ever since her school-days at Eastbourne.”
“I quite realise the great sacrifice you have made, Tattie,” said the Emperor, turning to her kindly, and noting how pale was her beautiful countenance and how intense her look. “By this step you have, in all probability, saved my life. Markoff and his gang of corrupt Ministers would have no doubt killed me whenever it suited their purpose to do so. But you have placed your duty to myself and to the nation before your love, therefore some adequate recompense is certainly due to you.”
The great man of commanding presence strode across the room from end to end, his bearded chin upon his breast, deep in thought. Suddenly he halted before her, and drawing himself up with that regal air which suited him so well, he looked straight at her, placed his hand tenderly upon her shoulder as she sat, and said:
“Tell me, Tattie; do you really and truly love this Englishman?”