name, lest haply it might have become, for him, the saddest sound upon earth. Ivan, however, had no such misgivings, and approached the subject gaily. "Remember, mon ami," he said, "we are all impatience to hear of la fiancée, la belle Stéphanie."
"I wish you could see her," answered Henri brightening. "I do not think any one could deny now that she is surpassingly beautiful—and good. She finds all her recreation, all her delight in works of love and mercy. Wherever she goes, her energy and vivacity open the doors wide before her. And then her sound practical sense and loving spirit make her more than welcome."
"I knew it would be so," said Clémence. "I knew my little friend Stéphanie would grow into a noble woman."
"You are a fortunate man, Henri," Ivan added. "How happy we shall be together when you bring your bride and settle amongst us! You must always spend your summers at Nicolofsky. But now it is my turn," he said lightly, as he rose and stood beside him, laying his hand on his shoulder. "You must tell me the last tidings of my Czar. I am thirsting to hear of him, and not once have you named him yet."
Henri paused a moment; then he said, in a low, quiet voice, "He is well—very."
Clémence looked up surprised, but Ivan observed nothing. "Tell me more," he went on eagerly. "Where was he when you heard last? What has he been doing?—There is one thing I long, yet scarcely hope, to hear. Has he won the desire of his heart? Are the serfs free yet?"
"The serfs are not free;—but, dear Ivan, your Czar has won the desire of his heart."
Now first his tone arrested Ivan, who looked at him amazed. "How?" he faltered, with a face growing rapidly white.
"Be calm, dear friend. Alexander has but exchanged the crown of Russia for one more glorious."
