Pavlo, the softest-hearted of budding warriors, whose own home life was and had always been so ideal, was full of the greatest pity for his small cousin. He patted Piotr’s head _en camarade_, thinking in spite of himself of the catastrophe that had deprived the child of father and mother at one stroke. “Travels are famous for people who are growing up as fast as my cousin here,” he gravely acquiesced; “but where is the voyage to lead you, my dear father and mother?” “To Salvières, where, if it is at all possible, I should like you to join us later, ‘Polo.’” Tatiana explained. “Surely you can get leave of absence easily enough.” Pavlo straightened his slim form and attempted to twist a mustache--which as yet consisted of some easily counted silken threads too blond to be truly noticeable. “My beloved darling dear,” he exclaimed, “I cannot be spared. Remember the August reviews; they are of the greatest importance, especially this year, when mobilization is so continually on the _tapis_.” “And of course they cannot take place without you,” smiled Salvières. “His Majesty would certainly find it difficult to fulfil his Imperial duties without your sword and counsel.” Pavlo flushed again. It was his shame and distress that amusement, pleasure, sorrow, or vexation should invariably have this humiliating result. Just now it was merely amusement, for he was accustomed to his father’s teasing and liked it, but yet he could have boxed his own ears for feeling his cheeks get hot. “Oh, but you mustn’t come and beard me in my den with unseemly jokes, father!” he remonstrated. “Here I am quite a personage, I assure you. Especially,” he added, gracefully, “because I am Mamma’s son and yours. Oh yes, I am quite a personage!” “God forbid that I should doubt it for a single instant, my boy,” solemnly rejoined Salvières. “And, by the way, our stay in Normandy will probably stretch over August and perhaps September, so I do not see what will prevent you from spending your autumn leave--after the manœuvers--with us.” “That of course alters the case,” Pavlo said. “Speaking with all moderation, I believe that what you propose is feasible later on; ... at present, however....” “The present,” Tatiana interposed, dogmatically, “is a thing without breadth or thickness, _mon lieutenant_, so let us pass it over. Also let me tell you as a further inducement to come to Normandy as soon as you can, that you will meet there your old friend the ‘Gamin,’ for your father and I are going to ask the Plenhöels to stay with us for a while.” At the name of the “Gamin” the blood, which had begun to recede, once more flew its brilliant color to the very roots of Pavlo’s bright hair. “The ‘Gamin,’ really?” he said, as casually as he could. “She must be quite a big girl now.”