Part 2

“Yes,” answered Paulina, gravely. “But,” continued she, “I dare say your daughter seems pretty to you because she has a kind and loving face. I can believe that she is really pretty, as well as pretty from affectionate looks and from being fond of her father.”

“And pray what may be your reason for believing this?” rejoined he.

“Because you have rather a nice face yourself,” she said.

“Rather a nice face!” echoed the man, still laughing. “Is that all the praise you can find for me? I assure you, I am accounted passing handsome; nay, I have been told a thousand times that I am the handsomest man in all my--in all these dominions.”

“Absurd!” said Paulina.

“The handsomest man in all Russia--the handsomest man of my time--they have actually said, over and over again!”

“Ridiculous!” exclaimed she. “And impudent! They were either joking,--laughing at you in their sleeve,--or trying to wheedle you.”

“Humph!” responded the man in the tone of one who half assents, half feels posed. “But, here we are at Igorhof,” he added, as the sledge drew up at the gates of a large mansion but indistinctly seen now through the gray twilight of a Russian evening.

“You are getting out, here?” said the child. “Have you much farther to go before you reach the place where your daughter is?”

“No; ’tis close by. Give me your hand. ’Tis my turn to guide you, now.”

He led her on,--she could not see exactly where, by reason of the deepening darkness; but it seemed to her as though they crossed a spacious area or courtyard, in the direction of the grand mansion indistinctly seen.

They stopped at a small side door, which he opened, and entered. Within was a kind of vestibule, lighted by the softened light of a lamp, that hung at the foot of a winding staircase.

“Have you a right here? Are you not making your way into a strange house?” said Paulina, hanging back, as the man prepared to mount the stairs, still holding her by the hand.

“Trust to me--as I trusted you, in the forest,” said the man, smiling. “Trust to me, and,--to use your own word,--never fear!”

As he finished speaking, they reached the top of the staircase;

and, throwing open a door which stood opposite to them on the landing-place, the man led her forward into a spacious room, richly furnished, hung with tapestry, and lighted by a large silver lamp suspended from the ceiling.

The man threw a hasty glance around, as if in search of some one; then, muttering, “She will be here soon,” threw himself upon one of the cushioned couches, as if thoroughly wearied. Presently, his eye rested upon some papers that lay piled upon the table. He drew the heap toward him, and began turning them over, when his hand was arrested by Paulina’s exclaiming: “How can you? Don’t you know it is dishonorable to peer into papers that belong to others?”

“Humph! You keep a strict eye upon me, my little guardian. This is one of my doings, I suppose, that you don’t approve of?”

“It is,” said Paulina.

“And the others, pray? What may they be?” he rejoined.

“I didn’t like your meddling with the articles in the sledge pockets; I didn’t like your creeping into this house without announcing yourself. It makes me sometimes suspect--”

“Well?” said the man.

“That you are,--in short, that you are--a thief.”

The man was still laughing at this uncompromising reply, when the door of the apartment opened, and a little girl entered. She was very young, but there was such ease, grace, and high breeding in her air, that she seemed older than she really was.

As she advanced into the room, she gazed with a quiet wonder at the two strange figures there; but, looking more intently at the man,--whose coarse, rude garments at first prevented her recognizing him,--she sprang forward, and threw herself into his arms, exclaiming, “Father! dear father!”

He embraced her fondly in return, and for a few moments they were wholly engrossed with each other. Presently, he turned to where Paulina stood in mute astonishment at this scene, and said: “But I must not forget my little preserver. Thank her, Hermione. I owe her my life. She helped me out of that confounded wood, where I might have wandered on till now--or perished, starving of cold and hunger. She saved me from the snow sleep, in which I might have been frozen to death. She guided me through all these mortal dangers, to say nothing of her keeping guard upon my morals.”

He was laughing heartily as he concluded, but Paulina never altered from the serious look with which she regarded him. She kept her eyes steadily upon his face, with the grave scrutiny with which from time to time she had observed him, ever since she had had doubts of his being the poor destitute creature he had seemed at first.

“Well, little one, have you made up your mind yet about me?” he said.

“I have heard of robbers going out prowling in poor shabby clothes, and having a rich home, with plenty of luxuries to come to,” she said in her straightforward way; “so you may still be what I took you for,--a thief. But somehow I don’t think you are, now.”

“And pray what may have altered your opinion?” said he.

“Your daughter,” she replied. “Since I have seen her, I think you must be an honest man,--an honorable man, a gentleman,--for all you are meanly dressed. Perhaps that may have been from some chance--some accident, and that you are, in fact, some great lord.”

“Well done! Well aimed!” he exclaimed. “Come,” added he, “I’ll make a bargain with you. If you’ll tell me your father’s name, I’ll tell you who I am.”

“As I believe you to be honorable,” she said, keeping her eyes upon his face, “I will tell you his name. It is Vladimir Betzkoi.”

The man’s brow darkened, then contracted into a frown. But after a few seconds it cleared, and he muttered, “I will not believe it. His child’s artless speeches and conduct bear proof that he must be a man of worth and probity. At all events, I will have it looked to.”

Then he added aloud: “You did me no less than justice, little one, in believing me a man of honor. Now that you have trusted me with your father’s name, I will use all my power to have his case inquired into.”

“You will interest your friends! You will use your influence with them to have my father’s case properly represented to the emperor! You will do what you can for us!” exclaimed Paulina, her eyes sparkling with joy, and fixed eagerly and hopefully upon the man’s face. He nodded and she went on: “I remember. You said you knew the master of this house. He must be a rich man--a powerful lord--you will interest him? You will speak to him in my father’s behalf?”

Again the man nodded; and again Paulina went eagerly on: “Will you let me see your friend, and tell him myself? The master of the house! Perhaps he’s at home now! Come, let us go to him at once!” she exclaimed, starting up, and seizing the man’s arm.

“Softly, softly, little one,” answered he, smiling. “You forget how tired I am with my wanderings.”

“I am thoughtless, selfish,--I forget all, in my one concern for my father; but you will forgive his daughter for her sake, won’t you?” said Paulina, pointing to Hermione, and then proceeding to bustle about, as she had done at the peasant’s hut, drawing off his gloves, and helping him remove his cloak.

His daughter joined her in her ministry, with her own quiet, gentle, yet decided manner. She had stood by her father’s side the whole time, with one arm upon his shoulder, as he sat; while he held her in one of his, passed around her waist.

“You have fasted, then?--you have been delayed on your journey?--some accident?--these clothes?” she now said, in her tender voice, full of affectionate interest, though so gentle and low. “Dear father, tell me what has happened. But first you must need refreshment. They shall bring supper here.”

“Ay, let it be so,” he answered. “And, Hermione,” he went on, beckoning her to lean down and listen to something that he whispered in her ear. She looked in his face with a smile, as he concluded, and then glided swiftly from the room to give her orders.

Presently Hermione returned, followed by a train of servants, with preparations for the meal. Some spread the table; while others drew near to the couch where the man sat, bearing a furred dressing-gown and slippers.

Paulina put out her hand for the latter.

The attendant would have withheld them, but, at a sign from the man, gave them to her. She put them carefully on his feet, saying: “Now for your wrapping-gown.”

The other attendant stepped forward, about to hold it ready; but Paulina took that also from his hands, with “No, no; give it me. I’ll put it on. I’ll step on the stool, on tiptoe; and I shall be able to reach.”

“Let her do it,” said the man, and with his amused smile.

“You have not yet told me your name,” she resumed. “If you’re not a thief, you do not keep your promises, and that’s nearly as bad.”

There was a stir, and a look of amazement among the attendants; but the next moment it subsided.

“Is not that rather a rude way of reminding a person of his promise?” asked Hermione, with her calm smile.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I speak the truth,” said Paulina, in her grave way, which was too sincere, earnest, and straightforward to be insolent. “I observed my part of the bargain at once. I put myself in your father’s power by trusting him with the name he asked; and I expected he would keep his word with me in return.”

“He will do so, be sure,” said Hermione, smiling, and looking at her father.

He nodded, saying: “But let us have some supper first.”

He chatted gaily, and seemed in high spirits, and very happy, as he sat between the two little girls, his daughter Hermione on one side of him, Paulina on the other.

“How came you to tell me such a fib about your daughter?” said Paulina, suddenly.

“How do you mean?” was the reply.

“You told me she was pretty, didn’t you?”

“Yes; don’t you think her so?”

“No; she’s very different from pretty. She has the most beautiful face I ever saw. It’s like what I fancy a queen’s must be.”

“You hear how plain-spoken she is,” said Hermione’s father. “She told me just as openly,--but far less complimentarily,--what she thought of my face.”

Hermione gazed fondly upon the face in question, and smiled.

“Then you wouldn’t like to know you were never to look upon it again,--for all its ugliness; eh, little one?” said the owner, laughing, and turning to Paulina.

“‘Like to know!’” she repeated, with more than even her usual gravity. “It would make me very unhappy. I have taken a great fancy to your face--to you--I should be very, very miserable if I thought--”

The child stopped, with a break in her voice that was even more eloquent than speech.

The man was touched with the artless evidence of liking in this sincere little creature. After the pause of a minute, he said: “Come, give me a kiss upon this ugly cheek of mine. I’ll promise you that you shall hereafter see as much of this homely face that you’ve taken a fancy to as you could wish. You and I are friends for life; for you saved mine, remember.”

“If she don’t remember it, we ever will, will we not, my father?” said Hermione, as Paulina stood on tiptoe beside him, and gave him the kiss he had asked, heartily and affectionately, saying at the same time, with playfulness: “I trust to this promise, though you broke the other. I’ll believe you will keep your word, that we shall be always friends, though you have not yet kept your word, and told me who you are. I ought to have held back my kiss, till I knew who claimed it.”

“I have a father’s right to it,” answered he. “I am your father, while your own is away.”

“My father!” she exclaimed.

“Your father!” he repeated; “the father of all my subjects,--the father of my people. I am the Emperor of Russia.”

Paulina stood gazing at him fixedly, in utter astonishment. Her face worked eagerly; her breath went and came. Then she dropped upon her knees, flung her head on his, and clasped them around, as she exclaimed: “My father! My own father! Think of him! Grant him his freedom! Pardon him! Remember the Christ-child, whose day this is! For His sake pardon my father!”

The emperor kindly bent over her, and spoke soothingly.

Presently she started up. “Yet why do I say, ‘Pardon him.’ He has done nothing that needs pardon. He has been ever loyal and faithful. Do him justice! Redress the wrong that has been done him, and restore to yourself a devoted officer and servant!”

“If only for his child’s sake--” the emperor began.

But Paulina interrupted him with: “Not for mine! Not because I happened to do you a service! But because he himself deserves to be freed--he who has been punished as a traitor, when he was none.”

“Never fear, little Conscientious!” said the monarch, laughing. “Entire justice shall be done. Your father shall have the benefit of a close investigation into his case. Will that satisfy you?”

“Quite,” she said in her grave way.

“And now, you will tell all your adventures, my father, will you not?” said the calm, sweet voice of Hermione.

“I will tell you the whole story,” said the emperor, drawing her within his arm, as before, while he left his other hand in the grasp of Paulina. “I was on my road hither from Kief to keep the Christmas time, when the sledge was by accident overturned, just on the borders of the forest. My people helped me into a sort of miserable cabin,--the nearest at hand; and, as my clothes had become wet with the snow, when I arrived there I donned some of the good man’s dry apparel in place of mine own, until they could be dried. While this was being done, feeling stifled with the smoky atmosphere of the cabin, I strolled forth into the open air. The snow-storm had abated. I wandered on, striking into the forest, until, at length, the snow beginning to fall thickly again, I woke up to a sense of danger,--that I was losing my way,--that I should be unable to retrace it,--that I should find difficulty in making my people aware of my situation. I shouted, but in vain. I plunged desperately on, but felt that I only involved myself further, and that each step but diminished the chances of rescue. In this perplexity I encountered my little friend here, who kindly took me in hand, and managed for me, when I could not have helped myself,--Emperor of all the Russias as I was,--and bit of a thing as she was. While we were housed at her friendly peasant woman’s hut,--whither she had conducted me for food and rest,--it happened that my faithful Ivan joined me, having found where I had taken refuge. He had set out in search of me, the instant he learned I was missing, and had succeeded in tracking me there. It was while Paulina was in the inner room that he entered the outer one where I sat. He could hardly restrain an exclamation of joy when he discovered me; but I made him a signal of silence, and in a low voice rapidly explained my desire that he should go back to his fellows, bid them meet me on the following day with the carriage at the village post-house, and observe, with them, the utmost care in avoiding any betrayal of my identity.”

“Ah, I thought I heard voices!” exclaimed Paulina, who had been listening breathlessly to this account; “low as you spoke, I heard you!”

“Your instructions were obeyed, my dear father, and you were able to remain unknown for any other than the poor man you seemed?” said Hermione.

“All went well,” replied her father. “The sledge met us at the place appointed, and the men played their parts to perfection.

“Well, when we arrived here,” he resumed, “Little Scrupulous must needs take it into her head that I was a burglar, stealing into a strange dwelling-house, and roundly she took me to task for my evil deeds, and for endeavoring to make her an accomplice. But I found means to pacify her suspicions, until your appearance did them all away, teaching her to confide in the belief that your father was an honest man, as I have come to the same conclusion respecting hers, through a like guarantee. Well is it for a parent, when his child’s ingenuous face vouches for his own integrity.”

Paulina’s father was recalled from exile; his innocence triumphantly proved, while he himself was reinstated in all his former possessions; the emperor graciously and distinctly signifying that it was a simple act of justice, and that he himself rejoiced to have a faithful subject restored to his service.

On his return, he found his little daughter in high favor at court. She was encouraged and indulged by the emperor, who took a strange fancy to that familiarity and blunt sincerity in her, the least approach to which he would have so strongly resented in any other being. Hermione took a great liking to Paulina, and had for her that firmest and most enduring of regards, an attachment founded on confidence, esteem, and respect. They grew up together, less like princess and dependant, than friends.

Her father’s military duties taking him away from home a great deal, little Paulina remained with the princess, eventually becoming one of her ladies in waiting, and finally marrying a Sicilian nobleman. In her far-away home she often entertained her children by telling them tales of the fatherland, not the least interesting of which was the story of the happiest Christmas she ever knew,--the one on which she rescued the emperor in the forest, and obtained her father’s pardon.