CHAPTER XXXVII.
AT NICOLOFSKY.
"Do noble things, not dream them, all day long;
So making death, life, and that vast for ever,
One grand sweet song."
"YES, the first snow of winter is falling. Does my Clémence regret exchanging the flowers of France for the snows of Russia?"
"Do I?" she asked, looking confidingly into Ivan's face while she leaned on his arm. They were standing at a window in the old castle of Nicolofsky, watching the white flakes as they fell gently to the ground. It was night, but a full moon shed its soft, pure radiance, over the peaceful scene. "Our first night at home, Ivan," she continued. "I shall love this place. I am so glad we came here at once."
"And I am so glad to hear you say so. I have often felt, Clémence, that it was too generous, too unselfish of you and your mother to agree in counselling me to decline the Emperor's offer of a post in the Army of Occupation, which would have kept us together in France, perhaps for years."
"You know, Ivan, that you are needed here."
"I know it. I must get rid of Dmitri at once; and my only way of doing so is by being my own steward. I fear he has used my poor friends here very hardly. Yet, according to his light, he has been faithful; and after Zoubof's letter, pleading his cause so earnestly, I could not well set him aside for another.
