The Emperor believed he had not heard correctly or did not grasp the meaning.  He repeated what Rouletabille had said.  The young reporter repeated it once more: 

“Do you promise?  No, Sire, I am not mad.  I dare to ask you that.  I have confided my honor to Your Majesty.  I have told you Natacha’s secret.  Well, now, before Matrena’s confession, I dare to ask you:  Promise me to forget that secret.  It will not suffice merely to give Natacha back again to her father.  It is necessary to leave her course open to her — if you really wish to save General Trebassof.  What do you decide, Sire?”

“It is the first time anyone has questioned me, monsieur.”

“Ah, well, it will be the last.  But I humbly beg Your Majesty to reply.”

“That would be many millions given to the Revolution.”

“Oh, Sire, they are not given yet.  The general is sixty-five, but he has many years ahead of him, if you wish it.  By the time he dies — a natural death, if you wish it — your enemies will have disarmed.”

“My enemies!” murmured the Tsar in a low voice.  “No, no; my enemies never will disarm.  Who, then, will be able to disarm them?” added he, melancholily, shaking his head.

“Progress, Sire!  If you wish it.”

The Tsar turned red and looked at the audacious young man, who met the gaze of His Majesty frankly.

“It is kind of you to say that, my young friend.  But you speak as a child.”

“As a child of France to the Father of the Russian people.”

It was said in a voice so solemn and, at the same time, so naively touching, that the Tsar started.  He gazed again for some time in silence at this boy who, this time, turned away his brimming eyes.

“Progress and pity, Sire.”

“Well,” said the Emperor, “it is promised.”

Rouletabille was not able to restrain a joyous movement hardly in keeping.

“You can ring now, Sire.”

And the Tsar rang.

The reporter passed into a little salon, where he found the Marshal,
Koupriane and Matrena Petrovna, who was “in a state.”

She threw a suspicious glance at Rouletabille, who was not treated this morning as the dear little domovoi-doukh.  She permitted herself to be conducted, already trembling, before the Emperor.

“What happened?” asked Koupriane agitatedly.

“It so happened, my dear Monsieur Koupriane, that I have the pardon of the Emperor for all the crimes you have charged against me, and that I wish to shake hands before I go, without any rancor.  Monsieur Koupriane, the Emperor will tell you himself that General Trebassof is saved, and that his life will never be in danger any more.  Do you know what follows?  It follows that you must at once set Matiew free, whom I have taken, if you remember, under my protection.  Tell him that he is going to make his way in France.  I will find him a place on condition that he forgets certain lashes.”