The next morning Waldemar de Volaski sat up in bed and asked for stationery, and wrote with his own weak and trembling hand a short letter to his youthful bride—­telling her that he had been very ill, but was now convalescent, and that as soon as he should be able to travel he would hasten to Paris and claim his wife in the face of all the fathers, priests and judges in Paris, or in the world.  He addressed her as his well beloved wife, signed himself her ever-devoted husband, and had the temerity to direct his letter to Madame Waldemar de Volaski, Hotel de la Motte, Rue Faubourg St. Honore, Paris.

The mail left St. Vito only twice a week, so that the three letters left the post office on the same day to their respective destinations; one went to St. Petersburg, to the Colonel of the Royal Guards; one to Warsaw, to the Count de Volaski; and one to Paris, to Madame de Volaski.

In the course of the next week the writer received answers from all three letters.  The first came from the colonel of his regiment, enclosing an extension of his leave of absence to three months; the second was answered in person by the Count de Volaski; the third was only an envelope, enclosing his letter to Valerie, crossed with this line: 

"No such person to be found."

The meeting between the Count de Volaski and his reckless son was not in all respects a pleasant one.  There was an explanation to be demanded by the father a confession to be made by the son.  The count was divided between his anxiety for his son and indignation at that son’s conduct.

“You exposed more than your own life by the escapade, sir!” said the elder Volaski, “You abducted a minor, sir; for doing which you might have been prosecuted for felony, and sent to the gaol!—­a fate so much worse than your death in the duel would have been for the honor of your family, that, had you been consigned to it, I should have cursed the hour you were born and blown my own brains out, in expiation of my share in your existence!”

The yet nervous invalid shuddered, and covered his face with his hands.

“But even that was not the greatest calamity your rashness provoked!  You presumed to carry off the French minister’s daughter while they were yet in the dominions of the Czar! by doing which you might have caused a war between two great nations, and the sacrifice of a million of lives!”

“Sir, forbear!  I have not yet recovered from the severe illness consequent upon my wound.  Surely, I have suffered enough at the hands of the ruthless Baron de la Motte!” said Waldemar de Volaski.