tice
of the verdict. My father was inconsolable.

_IV.--The Captain's Daughter to the Rescue_

From the first Marya had been received with the warm-hearted hospitality
that belonged to old-fashioned country people. The opportunity of giving
a home to a poor orphan seemed to them a favour from God. In a very
short time they were sincerely attached to her, for no one could know
Marya without loving her, and both my father and my mother looked
forward to the union of their son Peter with the captain's daughter.

My trial and condemnation plunged all three into misery; and Marya,
believing that I could have justified myself had I chosen, and
suspecting the motive which had kept me silent, and holding herself the
sole cause of my misfortune, determined to save me.

All at once she informed my parents that she was obliged to start for
Petersburg, and begged them to give her the means to do so.

"Why must you go to Petersburg?" said my mother, in distress. "You,
too--are you also going to forsake us?"

Marya answered that she was going to seek help from people in high
position for the daughter of a man who had fallen a victim to his
fidelity.

My father could only bow his head. "Go," he said. "I do not wish to cast
any obstacles between you and your happiness. May God grant you an
honest man, and not a convicted traitor, for husband."

To my mother alone Marya confided her plans, and then, with her maid
Palashka and the faithful Saveluetch--who, parted from me, consoled
himself by remembering he was serving my betrothed--set out for the
capital.

Arrived at Sofia, Marya learnt that the court was at the summer palace
of Tzarskoe-Selo, and at once resolved to stop there. She was able to
get a lodging at the post-house, and the postmaster's wife, who was a
regular gossip, began to tell her all the routine of the palace, at what
hour the tzarina rose, had her coffee, and walked in the gardens.

Next morning, very early, Marya dressed herself and went to the imperial
gardens. She saw a lady seated on a little rustic bench near the large
lake, and went and seated herself at the other end of the bench. The
lady wore a cap and a white morning gown, and a light cloak. She
appeared to be about fifty years old, and the repose and gravity of her
face, and the sweetness of her blue eyes and her smile, all attracted
Marya and inspired confidence. The lady was the first to speak.

"You do not belong to this place?"

"No, m