"I know it, sire."

"Do you know, also, that he has neither rank, fortune, nor title to
share with you--that he is poorer than the poorest mendicant in St
Petersburg?"

"Yes, sire."

"You have doubtless some fortune, some resources of your own?"

"Alas, sire, I have nothing! Yesterday I had thirty thousand rubles,
produced by the sale of all I possessed, but even that little fortune
was stolen from me."

"I know it. By a forged letter. It was more than a theft, it was a
sacrilege; and, should its perpetrator be detected, he shall be punished
as though he had broken open the poor-box in a church. But there are
means of repairing your loss?"

"How, sire?"

"Inform his family of the circumstance. They are rich, and will assist
you."

"I thank your Majesty; but I desire no assistance save that of God."

"But without funds how can you travel? Have you no friends who would
help you?"

"Pardon me, sire, but I am too proud to borrow what I could never repay.