Although every real obstacle to his marriage was now removed, it was several months before Ivan found himself at liberty to return to France and claim his bride. He had to go to Nicolofsky, to see and set in order his new estate. It is impossible to describe the joy of his old friends upon that occasion, and the welcome he received from them all, especially from his foster-parents. One of his earliest acts was to emancipate the starost and his family, making them at the same time a present of their homestead. He bestowed a similar favour upon the mother of Michael; Michael himself, as a soldier, being free already. To Pope Nikita and his wife he could give little that they cared for, except kindness and sympathy. They had not recovered from their deep sorrow for the melancholy fate of his old playfellow, their beloved and only daughter. Amongst these friends of his boyhood Ivan became once more a boy. He would sit for hours talking to “bativshka” and to the company gathered around his hospitable stove, telling them the eventful story of the war, as well as his own adventures since they parted. He could not make this first visit a long one; although he consoled his “serfs,” or rather his friends, with the promise that at no distant period he would come again and take up his abode amongst them. He was obliged to return to the capital in time to accompany the Emperor to the Congress of Vienna, where the brilliant series of fêtes and spectacles in which the assembled sovereigns displayed their magnificence made the presence of such a splendid corps as the Chevalier Guard particularly suitable. But at length he succeeded in obtaining the desired furlough, and early in February reached Versailles once more. He found Clémence unchanged, except that the months of separation had added, in his eyes, to her grace and loveliness. Madame de Talmont looked at least ten years younger since the return of her son; but Henri himself seemed older, and wore a grave if not a troubled aspect. Madame de Salgues also was ageing quickly: Henri told Ivan she was anxious about Emile, who had more than once been in danger for acts of boyish insolence and bravado, such as tearing white cockades from the breasts of their wearers, and giving a jovial supper to his companions on the 21st of January, the anniversary of the execution of Louis XVI. “A wise government,” said Henri during a quiet walk with Ivan in the park of Versailles, “would disregard these follies, and a strong government could very well afford to do it. But I fear the government of Louis Dix-huit is not either wise or strong. He and his courtiers seem to forget that the world has turned round more than once since 1789. There is not a little discontent amongst the people, and there is much, very much amongst the military.” “Do _you_ intend to embrace a military life, Henri?” Henri shuddered. “_Never_, if I can help it. My experience of soldiering was too terrible.”