She made up her mind after brief reflection.

“Have you seen Koupriane?”

“The Chief of Police?  Yes.  The grand-marshal accompanied me back to the station at Krasnoie-Coelo, and the Chief of Police accompanied me to St. Petersburg station.  One could not have been better received.”

“Monsieur Rouletabille,” said Matrena, who visibly strove to regain her self-control, “I am not of Koupriane’s opinion and I am not” - here she lowered her trembling voice — " of the opinion His Majesty holds.  It is better for me to tell you at once, so that you may not regret intervening in an affair where there are — where there are — risks — terrible risks to run.  No, this is not a family drama.  The family is small, very small:  the general, his daughter Natacha (by his former marriage), and myself.  There could not be a family drama among us three.  It is simply about my husband, monsieur, who did his duty as a soldier in defending the throne of his sovereign, my husband whom they mean to assassinate!  There is nothing else, no other situation, my dear little guest.”

To hide her distress she started to carve a slice of jellied veal and carrot.

“You have not eaten, you are hungry.  It is dreadful, my dear young man.  See, you must dine with us, and then — you will say adieu.  Yes, you will leave me all alone.  I will undertake to save him all alone.  Certainly, I will undertake it.”

A tear fell on the slice she was cutting.  Rouletabille, who felt the brave woman’s emotion affecting him also, braced himself to keep from showing it.

“I am able to help you a little all the same,” he said.  “Monsieur Koupriane has told me that there is a deep mystery.  It is my vocation to get to the bottom of mysteries.”

“I know what Koupriane thinks,” she said, shaking her head.  “But if I could bring myself to think that for a single day I would rather be dead.”

The good Matrena Petrovna lifted her beautiful eyes to Rouletabille, brimming with the tears she held back.

She added quickly: 

“But eat now, my dear guest; eat.  My dear child, you must forget what Koupriane has said to you, when you are back in France.”

“I promise you that, madame.”

“It is the Emperor who has caused you this long journey.  For me, I did not wish it.  Has he, indeed, so much confidence in you?” she asked naively, gazing at him fixedly through her tears.

“Madame, I was just about to tell you.  I have been active in some important matters that have been reported to him, and then sometimes your Emperor is allowed to see the papers.  He has heard talk, too (for everybody talked of them, madame), about the Mystery of the Yellow Room and the Perfume of the Lady in Black.”

Here Rouletabille watched Madame Trebassof and was much mortified at the undoubted ignorance that showed in her frank face of either the yellow room or the black perfume.