At length the older guests took their leave, and the countess turned her attention to the boys. She seemed struck with the appearance of Ivan’s little companion, and asked him many questions, which he answered with a grace and sprightliness that interested her still further. “I should like to keep both of you,” she said to Feodor. “Will you stay with me, and become my little page of honour? I will have you taught French, and you shall be always with your friend Prince Ivan.” “I thank you, madame,” Feodor answered gravely. “But I cannot leave my grandfather. I belong to him, and I will stay with him always--_always_,” he repeated with earnestness. “But, my little lad, your grandfather is very old. Some day he will die, and then what will become of you?” “When he dies, I will die too,” said Feodor resolutely, with a glow in his dark eyes. “Wait, boy, till you are ten years older,” laughed Adrian, “and for no man in the world will you say as much as that. As for a woman--well, I know not; you may have your fever-fit like another, and get over it, and laugh at it.” Feodor gave him a surprised, incredulous look, and repeated quietly, “When he dies, I will die too.” Then, turning to the countess, he took his leave in words he had been carefully instructed to use: “May I be permitted to kiss your hand, madame? My grandfather will expect me at home.” She responded graciously, and asked Adrian to take him into the orangery and give him some fruit. Ivan went with them, being anxious to see the last of his little friend. They passed a half-opened door, which the boys had not noticed before. Within was a kind of oratory: sacred pictures glittered in frames of gold and silver adorned with jewels, and lights were burning before them in massive silver candlesticks. Adrian turned in, but not to make his reverence, as the boys supposed. On the contrary, he deliberately used one of the candles to light his pipe. Ivan and Feodor were both horrified, and Ivan said, “How can you do that? The saint will be angry, and some harm will happen to you.” “My dear innocent babe, when you know a little more you will believe a little less. Ah, here comes _Mousié_, our French professor.--M. Thomassin, here is your new pupil, Prince Ivan Ivanovitch Pojarsky.” A dapper little Frenchman glided noiselessly towards them, and bowed profoundly. But the ceremony of introduction accomplished, Adrian went off with him, much to the relief of the boys, whom he left in the charge of a servant, bidding him supply Feodor plentifully with fruit.