His thoughts, and those of Clémence also, turned to an empty cot in the next room. Quiet talk followed, of which their little one was the theme,--sweet converse about “the ransom for that baby paid,” and the home to which she had been taken. It was truly “from very heart to very heart” that hour. At last the Emperor rose to take his leave; and not until then did Clémence venture to say something that _must_ be said--something that she might reproach herself all her life if she lost this opportunity of saying. “Sire, I have one brother, dear to me as my own soul, and he charged me solemnly, if ever I had the privilege of speaking with your Majesty face to face, to tell you that he will bless until his latest hour _the aide-de-camp of St. Priest_.” Then in a few brief words she told the story of Henri’s deliverance. The Czar was much moved. Not so often did the blessings of the many he tried to bless reach his ears. His successor might well say that he “had before his eyes, in his brother, the example of a sovereign whose whole existence was an incessant sacrifice to duty, and who nevertheless had so seldom succeeded in securing even gratitude, at least from his contemporaries.” Yet we have evidence that when gratitude came to him he found it very sweet. After a pause, he said gently,-- “Madame, I have only done my duty. What is called the right of reprisal has always seemed terrible to me. The only revenge we ought to take is in doing good.” By this time the Emperor’s famous coachman, Ilya, who had spent the evening with the servants of Ivan, a much-honoured and fêted guest, had in readiness the unpretending sledge in which his imperial master drove about his capital. “Have you forgiven me, dearest?” asked Ivan, when he returned from attending their august visitor to the door. “It is the first time I ever kept a secret from you.” Clémence looked in his radiant face, and her only answer was a smile. “He is charmed with you,” Ivan went on delighted. “I knew it would be so. He admired you even the first day he saw you--the day of the review in the Plaine des Vertus. How well he looks, does he not, Clémence?” “Yes; well, but worn; and there is a weary look in his eyes. I think he needs rest, Ivan.” Ivan shook his head a little sadly. “Do you know where he is going now?” he asked. “Home, I suppose; it is midnight.” “Ilya tells our people he is going to visit the hospitals. He goes sometimes at midnight, to ascertain that the patients are as well cared for by night as by day.[71] Yet to-morrow morning at six o’clock he will be in his cabinet or on parade.” “The light that shines must burn, and burn out,” said Clémence. “But, Ivan,” she added with hesitation, “may I say something?” “What thing is there which you may _not_ say, my Clémence?”