Page:The Czar, A Tale of the Time of the First Napleon.djvu/157

Rh have ever been to me instead of both. I have nothing in the world but you. But what need of words?" said the boy, drawing up his slender figure to its full height; "I have sworn."

Petrovitch could not see how his young face glowed, and his dark eyes shone like lamps of fire; but he heard the tones of his voice, which had in them the ring of a steadfast purpose, not proud or self-confident, scarcely even passionate, only full of a quiet resolute persuasion that he was doing something to which God had called him.

The old man's reverence for the sanctity of an oath was rendered stronger by a tinge of superstition. Moreover, he thought this world—where apparently and for the present the infidel Nyemtzi were victorious—not such a safe and happy home that true hearts need mourn to leave it. Perhaps it would even be well for him to take his dearest treasure with him to the better land, and bring Maria Petrovna the little one she had intrusted to his care. Thus it was that when once more Feodor whispered softly, "And I too, dädushka,—I am glad to die for the Czar," he only answered, "For our monarch, our country, and our God. May he accept the sacrifice, and receive our souls into his kingdom."

Just then a servant hastily entered the room. "Father," he said, in great agitation, "a horseman is galloping through the streets, crying aloud that the French are coming. Their standards may be seen, he says, upon the Sparrow Hill. And, father," he added, "the kibitka is ready, according to your orders."

"Then give me thine arm, Feodor," said the old man rising. "Our hour has come."