xemplary execution might have been my fate, were it
not that the Empress, out of consideration for the father's white hair
and loyal services, had commuted the sentence of the criminal son. She
had exiled him for life to the depths of Siberia!

The blow nearly killed my father, his firmness gave way, and his usually
silent sorrow burst into bitter plaints: "What! my son plotting with
Pougatcheff! The Empress gives him his life! Execution not the worst
thing in the world! My grandfather died on the scaffold in defense of
his convictions! But, that a noble should betray his oath, unite with
bandits, knaves and revolted slaves! shame! shame forever on our face!"

Frightened by his despair, my mother did not dare to show her grief, and
Marie was more desolate than they. Persuaded that I could justify myself
if I chose, she divined the motive of my silence, and believed that she
was the cause of my suffering.

One evening, seated on his sofa, my father was turning over the leaves
of the "_Court Almanac_," but his thoughts were far away, and the book
did not produce its usual effect upon him. My mother was knitting in
silence, and from time to time a furtive tear dropped upon her work.
Marie, who was sewing in the same room, without any prelude declared to
my parents that she was obliged to go to St. Petersburg, and begged them
to furnish her the means.

My mother said: "Why will you leave us?"

Marie replied that her fate depended on this journey; that she was going
to claim the protection of those in favor at Court, as the daughter of a
man who had perished a victim to his loyalty.

My father bowed his head. A word which recalled the supposed crime of
his son, seemed a sharp reproach.

"Go," said he, at last, with a sigh; "we will not place an obstacle
to your happiness. May God give you an honorable husband and not a
traitor!"

He rose and left the room. Alone with my mother, Marie confided to her,
in part, the object of her journey. My mother, in tears, kissed her and
prayed for the success of the project. A few days after, Marie, Polacca
and Saveliitch left home.

When Marie reached Sofia, she learned that the Court was at that moment
in residence at the summer palace of Tzarskoie-Selo. She decided to stop
there, and obtained a small room at the post-house. The post mistress
came to chat with the new-comer. She told Marie, pompously, that she
was the niece of an official attached to the Court--her uncle having