as waiting to see the general."

"Our man-servant?" exclaimed several voices at once.

"Yes, the one who waits in the entrance hall, a greyish, red-faced
man--"

"The prince is clearly a democrat," remarked Aglaya.

"Well, if you could tell Aleksey about it, surely you can tell us too."

"I do so want to hear about it," repeated Adelaida.

"Just now, I confess," began the prince, with more animation, "when you
asked me for a subject for a picture, I confess I had serious thoughts
of giving you one. I thought of asking you to draw the face of a
criminal, one minute before the fall of the guillotine, while the
wretched man is still standing on the scaffold, preparatory to placing
his neck on the block."

"What, his face? only his face?" asked Adelaida. "That would be a
strange subject indeed. And what sort of a picture would that make?"

"Oh, why not?" the prince insisted, with some warmth. "When I was in
Basle I saw a picture very much in that style--I should like to tell you
about it; I will some time or other; it struck me very forcibly."

"Oh, you shall tell us about the Basle picture another time; now we must
have all about the execution," said Adelaida. "Tell us about that face
as; it appeared to your imagination-how should it be drawn?--just the
face alone, do you mean?"

"It was just a minute before the execution," began the prince, readily,
carried away by the recollection and evidently forgetting everything
else in a moment; "just at the instant when he stepped off the ladder on
to the scaffold. He happened to look in my direction: I saw his eyes and
understood all, at once--but how am I to describe it? I do so wish you
or somebody else could draw it, you, if possible. I thought at the time
what a picture it would make. You must imagine all that went before, of
course, all--all. He had lived in the prison for some time and had not
expected that the execution would take place for at least a week yet--he
had counted on all the formalities and so on taking time; but it so
happened that his papers had been got ready quickly. At five o'clock in
the morning he was asleep--it was October, and at five in the morning
it was cold and dark. The governor of the prison comes in on tip-toe and
touches the sleeping man's shoulder gently. He starts up. 'What is it?'
he says. 'The execution is fixed for ten o'clock.' He was only just
awake, and would not believe at first, but began to argue that his
papers would not b