"
Dmitry promised everything, and then as he made his obeisance to go, he
slipped a letter into Paul's hand. Madame had bidden him give the
Excellency this when they had talked and all was settled. He would leave
again that night, and his present address would find him till six o'clock
if the Excellency had aught to send in return.
And then he backed out with deep bows, and Paul stood there, clasping his
letter, a sudden spring of wild joy in his heart.
And what a letter it was! The very soul of his loved one expressed in her
own quaint words.
First she told him that now she expected he knew who she was, and as they
were to meet again--which in the beginning she feared might never be--all
reason for her incognito was over. Then she told him--to make sure he
knew--her name and kingdom. "But, sweetheart," she added, "remember
this--my proudest titles ever are to be thy Loved one, and the Mother of
thy son." Here Paul kissed the words, madly thrilling with pride and
worship. She spoke of her still undying love, and of her anguishing sorrow
all the winter at their separation, and at length the joy of their little
one's arrival.
"Thy image, my Paul! English and beautiful, as I said he would be--not
black and white like me. And oh! beloved, thou must always increase thy
knowledge of statesmancraft to help me to train him well.
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