It had cost him dear to speak, and he fell back with a gasp. Sophia was not without sympathy, and she was also keen enough to see the advantage of the sudden accession of wealth in the impoverished treasury. She laid her hand kindly on Zénaïde’s bowed head. “Rest in peace, Feodor Sergheievitch,” she said; “I will grant your request. The Vicomte is my friend, and Zénaïde shall be his wife.” “I thank you,” the dying man said faintly, and his head fell back. The physician bent over him and administered a restorative, and he opened his eyes again; but this time they sought only his daughter, who was clinging to his arm and weeping. “Farewell, Zénaïde,” he said, in a voice of strange tenderness, “found so late and lost so soon! Weep not for me, my child; life has had little sweetness, and perhaps it is best so.” Mademoiselle Eudoxie was kneeling at the foot of his couch and praying, and he looked at her and smiled. “The end is near,” he murmured faintly, looking calmly at us in farewell; “the end--of a--broken life-- My soul--” He spoke no more, and a moment later, Prince Galitsyn leaned over him and made the sign of the cross on his white forehead. The stern spirit had passed quietly into eternity. * * * * * My injuries kept me a prisoner in my room during the weeks that followed. I was faithfully nursed by Mademoiselle Eudoxie and Pierrot. Zénaïde was under Sophia’s protection in the Kremlin. I saw nothing of the scenes of those exciting days,--the pacification of the Streltsi, the coronation of Peter and Ivan, and the declaration of the regency of Sophia Alexeievna. The new government was installed, and the city was comparatively quiet again, when I was well enough to return to France. I was anxious to claim the fulfillment of the regent’s promise before she had time to regret it, and pressed my affairs to an early settlement. One summer morning, a small party assembled in the Cathedral of St. Michael the Archangel to witness my marriage to Zénaïde Feodorovna, the czarevna and Prince Galitsyn representing the bride’s guardians. And I took my fair young wife back to her mother’s country, followed by faithful Mademoiselle Eudoxie, and by Pierrot, whose face was no longer stolid, but radiant with joy at the thought of returning to his own beloved land, where we all found happiness and repose. The flowers in the old garden of the Tour de Brousson bloomed with a new beauty to welcome the young mistress, who rejoiced in the tranquillity of the château with its terraces and its roses glorified by the sunshine of France. TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES Minor changes have been made to punctuation, and to regularize spelling and hyphenation.