e brow of his wife,
and in a low tone called her by the tenderest names.

The child awoke and smilingly looked up from Anna's bosom to both of his
parents. Anna lifted up the little Ivan.

"Look there, my son," said she--"there you will no longer be an emperor,
but you will have the right to be a free and happy man. No crown awaits
you there, but freedom, worth more than all the crowns in the world."

Little Ivan exultingly stretched forth his tiny arms, as if he would
draw down to his childish heart this future and this freedom so highly
lauded by his mother.

And, like the child, the parents looked smilingly out upon the broad
expanse that stretched away before them.

Look only forward, constantly forward, where the skies are clear, and
dream of happiness! Look forward--no, turn not backward your glance, for
the horizon darkens in your rear; misfortune is closely following upon
your track! You see it not, you only look forward and still you smile.

It draws nearer and nearer, this black cloud of evil. It is the ravens,
the booty-scenting ravens who are following you!

Look forward, dream yourselves happy, and smile yet. What would it help
you to look back! You cannot escape the calamity.

Nearer and nearer, with a wild cry, rush these ravens of misfortune; the
air already bears detached sounds to Anna's ears.

She trembles. It is as if her boding soul scented the approaching evil.
Pressing her child closer to her bosom, she gives her husband her hand.

The horses are attached to the sledge, and the soldiers leave the
public house. All is ready for the train to go on over the boundary. The
postilions draw the rein! Now a wild cry of "Halt! halt!"

The soldiers bear up, the postilions halt!

"Forward! forward!" shrieks Prince Ulrich, in mortal anguish.

"Halt! in the name of the empress!" cried an officer who came rushing
past upon a foaming steed, and he handed to the commander of the escort
an open writing, furnished with the imperial seal.

The commander turned to the postilions.

"To the right about, toward Riga!" ordered he, and then, turning to the
trembling princely pair, he said: "In the name of the empress, you are
my prisoners! I am directed to conduct you to the citadel of Riga!"

With a loud groan, Anna sinks into the arms of her husband. He consoles
her with the most soothing and affectionate words; he has thought,
sorrow, only for her--he feels not for himself, but only for her.

For a m