a could the shaft of a carriage
break.

The repair was difficult and crude, with bits of rope. And from then
on the journey was slow and cautious after the frenzied speed. In vain
Rouletabille reasoned with himself. "You will arrive anyway before
morning. You cannot wake the Emperor in the dead of night." His
impatience knew no reason. "What a country! What a country!"

After some other petty adventures (they ran into a ravine and
had tremendous difficulty rescuing the trunk) they arrived at
Tsarskoie-Coelo at a quarter of seven.

Even here the country was not pleasant. Rouletabille recalled the bright
awakening of French country. Here it seemed there was something more
dead than death: it was this little city with its streets where no one
passed, not a soul, not a phantom, with its houses so impenetrable,
the windows even of glazed glass and further blinded by the morning
hoar-frost shutting out light more thoroughly than closed eyelids.
Behind them he pictured to himself a world unknown, a world which
neither spoke nor wept, nor laughed, a world in which no living chord
resounded. "What a country! 'Where is the chateau? I do not know; I have
been here only once, in the marshal's carriage. I do not know the way.
Not the great palace! The idiot of a driver has brought me to this great
palace in order to see it, I haven't a doubt. Does Rouletabille look
like a tourist? Dourak! The home of the Tsar, I tell you. The Tsar's
residence. The place where the Little Father lives. Chez Batouchka!"

The driver lashed his ponies. He drove past all the streets. "Stoi!
(Stop!)" cried Rouletabille. A gate, a soldier, musket at shoulder,
bayonet in play; another gate, another soldier, another bayonet; a park
with walls around it, and around the walls more soldiers.

"No mistake; here is the place," thought Rouletabille. There was only
one prisoner for whom such pains would be taken. He advanced towards the
gate. Ah! They crossed bayonets under his nose. Halt! No fooling, Joseph
Rouletabille, of "L'Epoque." A subaltern came from a guard-house and
advanced toward him. Explanation evidently was going to be difficult.
The young man saw that if he demanded to see the Tsar, they would think
him crazed and that would further complicate matters. He asked for the
Grand-Marshal of the Court. They replied that he could get the Marshal's
address in Tsarskoie. But the subaltern turned his head. He saw someone
advancing. It was the Grand-Marsha