“I read somewhere, I think," she said, "that there have been occasions when an emperor has legitimised a child born out of wedlock at the father's request. I'm not sure, though. Do you know if it's true?"
“Why, yes! I know of two or three cases, quite recently! You know one yourself, for that matter, for you sat opposite him at Count Tutaev's name-day dinner; Pyotr Kyrillovich Bezuhov.”
Tanya recalled the stout gentleman who had eaten his way stolidly through the meal without saying a word, and smiled.
Prince Nikolai was studying her face closely. "Are you suggesting that I ask the Emperor to
legitimise Ilya?" he asked.
Tanya returned his gaze steadily, alert for any clue to his feelings. "You would like to, wouldn't you?" She made it
a
statement rather than a question.
“Very much," he admitted, "but he would then become my eldest son, my heir, taking precedence over any children born to us."
“
Our
eldest son," she corrected gently.
“You would do that?" he whispered. "I hardly dared to hope you would even accept him as my – my bastard, but this . . . ! Are you sure?"
“Quite sure," Tanya replied decisively, and despite having no opportunity to think the matter through, she was convinced that it was the right decision. She was to stand by it to her dying day, and never had any cause to regret it.
Prince Nikolai half-turned his face away from her and said unsteadily, "You'll think me run mad – I've not wept since I was a child . . ." and he began to cry, his body shaking with awkward, racking sobs at first. Tanya drew his head close against her and he pressed his face against her breast as she held him, stroking his hair. Presently the tears began to flow more easily, washing away the bitterness and misery of years, until at last he was still and quiet. The Ice King had thawed, Tanya thought.
Eventually he raised his head and smiled a trifle wanly at her. She dried his eyes and cheeks tenderly with a corner of her silk shawl, and said, "Better now?"
“Everything's better!" he replied. "The whole world is full of flowers and rainbows, and the sky is raining butterflies and rose-petals!”
Tanya glanced at the window, where the dark night was still full of falling snowflakes, and laughed joyfully as she snuggled against him, and after a while they began to talk quietly and happily about the future, oblivious of passing time; and, as no one had the heart to disturb them, there they remained until long after everyone else in Petersburg had dined and gone about their pleasures at ball, theatre or soirée in the busy flurry of these last few days of the winter Season.