“I will tell you the whole story,” said the emperor, drawing her within his arm, as before, while he left his other hand in the grasp of Paulina. “I was on my road hither from Kief to keep the Christmas time, when the sledge was by accident overturned, just on the borders of the forest. My people helped me into a sort of miserable cabin,—the nearest at hand; and, as my clothes had become wet with the snow, when I arrived there I donned some of the good man’s dry apparel in place of mine own, until they could be dried. While this was being done, feeling stifled with the smoky atmosphere of the cabin, I strolled forth into the open air. The snow-storm had abated. I wandered on, striking into the forest, until, at length, the snow beginning to fall thickly again, I woke up to a sense of danger,—that I was losing my way,—that I should be unable to retrace it,—that I should find difficulty in making my people aware of my situation. I shouted, but in vain. I plunged desperately on, but felt that I only involved myself further, and that each step but diminished the chances of rescue. In this perplexity I encountered my little friend here, who kindly took me in hand, and managed for me, when I could not have helped myself,—Emperor of all the Russias as I was,—and bit of a thing as she was. While we were housed at her friendly peasant woman’s hut,—whither she had conducted me for food and rest,—it happened that my faithful Ivan joined me, having found where I had taken refuge. He had set out in search of me, the instant he learned I was missing, and had succeeded in tracking me there. It was while Paulina was in the inner room that he entered the outer one where I sat. He could hardly restrain an exclamation of joy when he discovered me; but I made him a signal of silence, and in a low voice rapidly explained my desire that he should go back to his fellows, bid them meet me on the following day with the carriage at the village post-house, and observe, with them, the utmost care in avoiding any betrayal of my identity.”
“Ah, I thought I heard voices!” exclaimed Paulina, who had been listening breathlessly to this account; “low as you spoke, I heard you!”
“Your instructions were obeyed, my dear father, and you were able to remain unknown for any other than the poor man you seemed?” said Hermione.
“All went well,” replied her father. “The sledge met usat the place appointed, and the men played their parts to perfection.
“Well, when we arrived here,” he resumed, “Little Scrupulous must needs take it into her head that I was a burglar, stealing into a strange dwelling-house, and roundly she took me to task for my evil deeds, and for endeavoring to make her an accomplice. But I found means to pacify her suspicions, until your appearance did them all away, teaching her to confide in the belief that your father was an honest man, as I have come to the same conclusion respecting hers, through a like guarantee. Well is it for a parent, when his child’s ingenuous face vouches for his own integrity.”
Paulina’s father was recalled from exile; his innocence triumphantly proved, while he himself was reinstated in all his former possessions; the emperor graciously and distinctly signifying that it was a simple act of justice, and that he himself rejoiced to have a faithful subject restored to his service.
On his return, he found his little daughter in high favor at court. She was encouraged and indulged by the emperor, who took a strange fancy to that familiarity and blunt sincerity in her, the least approach to which he would have so strongly resented in any other being. Hermione took a great liking to Paulina, and had for her that firmest and most enduring of regards, an attachment founded on confidence, esteem, and respect. They grew up together, less like princess and dependant, than friends.
Her father’s military duties taking him away from home a great deal, little Paulina remained with the princess, eventually becoming one of her ladies in waiting, and finally marrying a Sicilian nobleman. In her far-away home she often entertained her children by telling them tales of the fatherland, not the least interesting of which was the story of the happiest Christmas she ever knew,—the one on which she rescued the emperor in the forest, and obtained her father’s pardon.