“Yes, ma’am. I’ve come to submit a petition to the empress.”
“You’re an orphan: you probably want to complain of injustice and offense?”
“No, ma’am. I’ve come to ask for mercy, not for justice.”
“Who are you, if I may ask?”
“I am Captain Mironov’s daughter.”
“Captain Mironov! The one who was commandant of one of the Orenburg fortresses?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The lady seemed to be moved.
“Forgive me,” she said in a still gentler voice, “if I’m interfering in your affairs; but I am received at court; tell me what your petition is about, and maybe I’ll be able to help you.”
Marya Ivanovna rose and respectfully thanked her. Everything about the unknown lady spontaneously attracted her heart and inspired trust. Marya Ivanovna took a folded paper from her pocket and gave it to her unknown protectress, who started reading it to herself.
At first she read with an attentive and benevolent air; but suddenly her countenance changed—and Marya Ivanovna, who was following all her movements with her eyes, was frightened by the severe expression of this face, which a moment before had been so pleasant and calm.
“You’re petitioning for Grinyov?” the lady said with a cold look. “The empress cannot forgive him. He joined the impostor not out of ignorance and gullibility, but as an immoral and pernicious scoundrel.”
“Oh, that’s not true!” cried Marya Ivanovna.
“How, not true!” the lady retorted, flushing all over.
“Not true, by God, not true! I know everything, I’ll tell you everything. He underwent all that befell him only for my sake. And if he did not justify himself before the judges, it was only because he didn’t want to entangle me in it.” Here she ardently recounted everything that is already known to my reader.
The lady heard her out attentively.
“Where are you staying?” she asked then; and, hearing that it was at Anna Vlasyevna’s, she added with a smile: “Ah, I know! Good-bye; don’t tell anyone about our meeting. I hope you will not have to wait long for an answer to your letter.”
With those words she stood up and went off into a covered alley, and Marya Ivanovna returned to Anna Vlasyevna filled with joyful hope.
Her hostess chided her for the early autumnal promenade, harmful, so she said, for a young girl’s health. She brought the samovar and, over a cup of tea, was just starting on her endless stories about the court, when a court carriage suddenly pulled up to the porch and an imperial footman came in and announced that her majesty was pleased to invite Miss Mironov to call on her.
Anna Vlasyevna was amazed and flustered.
“Good Lord!” she cried. “The empress is summoning you to the court. How on earth did she find out about you? How, my dear girl, are you going to present yourself to the empress? I suppose you don’t even know how to walk at court…Shouldn’t I come with you? At least I could warn you about certain things. And how are you going to go in your traveling clothes? Shouldn’t we send to the midwife for her yellow robe ronde?”
The imperial footman said that the empress wished to have Marya Ivanovna come alone and dressed just as she was. There was nothing to be done: Marya Ivanovna got into the carriage and set off for the palace accompanied by the instructions and blessings of Anna Vlasyevna.
Marya Ivanovna had a presentiment that our fate was to be decided; her heart now pounded, now sank. A few minutes later the carriage drew up to the palace. Marya Ivanovna tremblingly climbed the stairs. The doors were flung open before her. She walked through a long row of magnificent empty rooms; the imperial footman showed her the way. Finally, coming to a closed door, he said that she would presently be announced, and left her there alone.
The thought of seeing the empress face-to-face so terrified her that she could barely keep her feet. A minute later the door opened and she entered the empress’s dressing room.
The empress was sitting at her toilette table. Several courtiers surrounded her, and they deferentially made way for Marya Ivanovna. The empress turned to her kindly, and Marya Ivanovna recognized her as the lady she had talked with so candidly a few minutes earlier. The empress told her to come closer and said with a smile:
“I’m glad that I can keep my word to you and grant your petition. Your affair is settled. I am convinced of the innocence of your betrothed. Here is a letter which you yourself will be so good as to deliver to your future father-in-law.”
Marya Ivanovna took the letter with a trembling hand and, weeping, fell at the feet of the empress, who raised her up and kissed her. The empress talked more with her.
“I know you’re not rich,” she said, “but I am in debt to Captain Mironov’s daughter. Don’t worry about your future. I take it upon myself to see you established.”
