Ivan returned to the tent of his friend with, strange to say, a more cheerful air than when he left it. He seemed to be rather exhilarated than otherwise by his encounter. "Every one knows the count's temper," he said, after detailing the adventure. "I was not going to lose the reward of all I have passed through during the last six weeks for a few rough words. Only for the hope of seeing the face of my Czar, and telling him I tried to serve him faithfully, I should once and again have lain down to die."
"It is well known," answered Adrian, "that Count Rostopchine does not love the Czar—but he loves Russia." Then, to Ivan's surprise, Adrian told him that he himself hoped to be the companion of his rapid journey to St. Petersburg. His mother's death had left the pecuniary affairs of the Wertsch family in confusion, and of course the intervention of "government" was necessary for their arrangement. Amongst other matters, the term of years for which one of their estates had been granted by the crown was now expired, and a new grant would have to be solicited. While Ivan was engaged with the count, Adrian had asked for and obtained a short leave of absence, that he might take advantage of his friend's telega; for Ivan, as one travelling upon public business, would be authorized to require, at every post-house, the swiftest horses that could be obtained.
This explanation had not long been finished, when a fine young man, the son of Rostopchine, entered the tent. He brought Ivan his father's letter to the Czar, and the other documents necessary for his journey. Then he offered him a supply of money, which Ivan, under the circumstances, was glad to be able to decline—the contents of a purse of ducats, found accidentally in one of the abandoned palaces of Moscow, sufficing for his present needs. Lastly, young Rostopchine lingered to say, "My father desires me to tell you that he has mentioned you to the Czar in very hand-
