ed as my hand, monsieur, was
dropped into the dining-hall and ran across it full-speed. It was a
wager, monsieur, a wager of the jolly grand duke's, and the demoiselle
won it. But what a scandal! Ah, don't speak of it; that would be very
bad form. But--sufficiently Asiatic, eh? Truly Asiatic. And--something
much more unfortunate--you see that table? It happened the Russian New
Year Eve, at supper. All the beauty, the whole capital, was here. Just
at midnight the orchestra struck up the Bodje tsara krani* to inaugurate
the joyful Russian New Year, and everybody stood up, according to
custom, and listened in silence, as loyal subjects should. Well, at
that table, accompanying his family, there was a young student, a fine
fellow, very correct, and in uniform. This unhappy young student, who
had risen like everybody else, to listen to the Bodje tsara krani,
inadvertently placed his knee on a chair. Truly that is not a correct
attitude, monsieur, but really it was no reason for killing him, was
it now? Certainly not. Well, a brute in uniform, an officer quite
immaculately gotten-up, drew a revolver from his pocket and discharged
it at the student point-blank. You can imagine the scandal, for the
student was dead! There were Paris journalists there, besides, who had
never been there before, you see! Monsieur Gaston Leroux was at that
very table. What a scandal! They had a regular battle. They broke
carafes over the head of the assassin--for he was neither more nor less
than an assassin, a drinker of blood--an Asiatic. They picked up the
assassin, who was bleeding all over, and carried him off to look after
him. As to the dead man, he lay stretched out there under a table-cloth,
waiting for the police--and those at the tables went on with their
drinking. Isn't that Asiatic enough for you? Here, a naked woman; there,
a corpse! And the jewels--and the champagne! What do you say to that?"

* The Russian national anthem.

"His Excellency the Grand Marshal of the Court is waiting for you,
Monsieur."

Rouletabille shook hands with Athanase Georgevitch, who returned to
his zakouskis, and followed the interpreter to the door of one of
the private rooms. The high dignitary was there. With a charm in his
politeness of which the high-born Russian possesses the secret
over almost everybody else in the world, the Marshal intimated to
Rouletabille that he had incurred imperial displeasure.

"You have been denounced by Koupriane, wh