"I suppose," said I thoughtfully, "that you are very fond of the Emperor."
"We adore him," responded Sacha.
George looked at me searchingly as he said, "Did you doubt it?"
"No, I can't say that I did."
"Listen, mademoiselle," broke in Sacha. "Let me tell you what our Emperor did last winter."
Tom had joined our group, and was now listening, with his eyes fixed on Mr. Novissilsky's face.
"After returning from the seat of war, it was his custom,"—went on the young man earnestly, aware that he had an audience, and doing his best to tell the story well,—"it was his custom to visit the hospitals daily, and talk with the sick and wounded soldiers. One day he was speaking to a common soldier, whose wound was pronounced fatal. The Emperor asked the man what he could do for him. The soldier replied that he should die more happily if his monarch were with him at his last hour. 'Your wish shall be gratified,' said the Tsar. Before his departure from the hospital, he gave orders that at any hour of the day or night, when the man should be dying, he was to be notified. The same command was given at the palace. The man lingered for some days, but at last the image of death appeared to him, and a messenger was despatched to the palace about two o'clock one morning. He had some difficulty in penetrating to the Tsar, but finally succeeded. The Emperor hurried to the soldier's bedside, and, true to his promise, stayed by him to the last."
