“Well,” he said, smiling, “I see it is all for the best.”

“How is that, father?” asked Vaninka.

“Doubtless,” said the general.  “Did not Foedor leave because he loved you?”

“Yes,” murmured the young girl.

“Well, now he may return,” said the general.

Vaninka remained silent, her eyes fixed, her lips trembling.

“Return!” she said, after a moment’s silence.

“Yes, certainly return.  We shall be most unfortunate,” continued the general, smiling, “if we cannot find someone in the house who knows where he is.  Come, Vaninka, tell me the place of his exile, and I will undertake the rest.”

“Nobody knows where Foedor is,” murmured Vaninka in a hollow voice; “nobody but God, nobody!”

“What!” said the general, “he has sent you no news since the day he left?”

Vaninka shook her head in denial.  She was so heart-broken that she could not speak.

The general in his turn became gloomy.  “Do you fear some misfortune, then?” said he.

“I fear that I shall never be happy again on earth,” cried Vaninka, giving way under the pressure of her grief; then she continued at once, “Let me retire, father; I am ashamed of what I have said.”

The general, who saw nothing in this exclamation beyond regret for having allowed the confession of her love to escape her, kissed his daughter on the brow and allowed her to retire.  He hoped that, in spite of the mournful way in which Vaninka had spoken of Foedor, that it would be possible to find him.  The same day he went to the emperor and told him of the love of Foedor for his daughter, and requested, since death had freed her from her first engagement, that he might dispose of her hand.  The emperor consented, and the general then solicited a further favour.  Paul was in one of his kindly moods, and showed himself disposed to grant it.  The general told him that Foedor had disappeared for two months; that everyone, even his daughter, was ignorant of his whereabouts, and begged him to have inquiries made.  The emperor immediately sent for the chief of police, and gave him the necessary orders.

Six weeks went by without any result.  Vaninka, since the day when the letter came, was sadder and more melancholy than ever.  Vainly from time to time the general tried to make her more hopeful.  Vaninka only shook her head and withdrew.  The general ceased to speak, of Foedor.

But it was not the same among the household.  The young aide-de-camp had been popular with the servants, and, with the exception of Gregory, there was not a soul who wished him harm, so that, when it became known that he had not been sent on a mission, but had disappeared, the matter became the constant subject of conversation in the antechamber, the kitchen, and the stables.  There was another place where people busied themselves about it a great deal—­this was the Red House.