“O young man, young man!”

“Pardon me, Monsieur le Grand Marechal,” said the reporter, rising; “I am, indeed, a disturbing spirit and I know that I have nothing more to do in this country.  You will not see me any more, Monsieur le Grand Marechal; but before leaving I ought to tell you how much I have been touched by the hospitality of your great nation.  That hospitality is sometimes a little dangerous, but it is always magnificent.  No other nation in the world knows like the Russians how to receive a man, Your Excellency.  I speak as I feel; and that isn’t affected by my manner of quitting you, for you know also how to put a man to the door.  Adieu, then; without any rancor.  My most respectful homage to His Majesty.  Ah, just one word more!  You will recall that Natacha Feodorovna was engaged to poor Boris Mourazoff, still another young man who has disappeared and who, before disappearing, charged me to deliver to General Trebassof’s daughter this last token — these two little ikons.  I entrust you with this mission, Monsieur le Grand Marechal.  Your servant, Excellency.”

Rouletabille re-descended the great Kaniouche.  “Now,” said he to himself, “it is my turn to buy farewell presents.”  And he made his way slowly across la Place des Grandes-Ecuries and the bridge of the Katharine canal.  He entered Aptiekarski-Pereoulok and pushed open Pere Alexis’s door, under the arch, at the back of the obscure court.

“Health and prosperity, Alexis Hutch!”

“Ah, you again, little man!  Well?  Koupriane has let you know the result of my analyses?”

“Yes, yes.  Tell me, Alexis Hutch, you are sure you are not mistaken?  You don’t think you might be mistaken?  Think carefully before you answer.  It is a question of life or death.”

“For whom?”

“For me.”

“For you, good little friend!  You want to make your old Pere lexis laugh — or weep!”

“Answer me.”

“No, I couldn’t be mistaken.  The thing is as certain as that we two are here — arsenate of soda in the stains on the two napkins and traces of arsenate of soda in two of the four glasses; none in the carafe, none in the little bottle, none in the two glasses.  I say it before you and before God.”

“So it is really true.  Thank you, Alexis Hutch.  Koupriane has not tried to deceive me.  There has been nothing of that sort.  Well, do you know, Alexis Hutch, who has poured the poison?  It is she or I. And as it is not I, it is she.  And since it is she, well, I am going to die!”

“You love her, then?” inquired Pere Alexis.

“No,” replied Rouletabille, with a self-mocking smile.  “No, I don’t love her.  But if it is she who poured the poison, then it was not Michael Nikolaievitch, and it is I who had Michael Nikolaievitch killed.  You can see now that therefore I must die.  Show me your finest images.