be most unfortunate," continued the
general, smiling, "if we cannot find someone in the house who knows
where he is. Come, Vaninka, tell me the place of his exile, and I will
undertake the rest."

"Nobody knows where Foedor is," murmured Vaninka in a hollow voice;
"nobody but God, nobody!"

"What!" said the general, "he has sent you no news since the day he
left?"

Vaninka shook her head in denial. She was so heart-broken that she could
not speak.

The general in his turn became gloomy. "Do you fear some misfortune,
then?" said he.

"I fear that I shall never be happy again on earth," cried Vaninka,
giving way under the pressure of her grief; then she continued at once,
"Let me retire, father; I am ashamed of what I have said."

The general, who saw nothing in this exclamation beyond regret for
having allowed the confession of her love to escape her, kissed his
daughter on the brow and allowed her to retire. He hoped that, in spite
of the mournful way in which Vaninka had spoken of Foedor, that it would
be possible to find him. The same day he went to the emperor and told
him of the love of Foedor for his daughter, and requested, since death
had freed her from her first engagement, that he might dispose of her
hand. The emperor consented, and the general then solicited a further
favour. Paul was in one of his kindly moods, and showed himself disposed
to grant it. The general told him that Foedor had disappeared for
two months; that everyone, even his daughter, was ignorant of his
whereabouts, and begged him to have inquiries made. The emperor
immediately sent for the chief of police, and gave him the necessary
orders.

Six weeks went by without any result. Vaninka, since the day when the
letter came, was sadder and more melancholy than ever. Vainly from time
to time the general tried to make her more hopeful. Vaninka only shook
her head and withdrew. The general ceased to speak, of Foedor.

But it was not the same among the household. The young aide-de-camp
had been popular with the servants, and, with the exception of Gregory,
there was not a soul who wished him harm, so that, when it became known
that he had not been sent on a mission, but had disappeared, the matter
became the constant subject of conversation in the antechamber, the
kitchen, and the stables. There was another place where people busied
themselves about it a great deal--this was the Red House.

From the day when he heard of Foedor's myster