s would punish them more severely by giving
them an extra one. Three governors shot in two months. (_Smiles to
himself._) Sire, permit me to recommend your loyal subject, the Marquis
de Poivrard, as the new governor of your Province of Archangel.

MARQ. DE POIV. (_hurriedly_). Sire, I am unfit for this post.

PRINCE PAUL. Marquis, you are too modest. Believe me, there is no man
in Russia I would sooner see Governor of Archangel than yourself.
(_Whispers to CZAR._)

CZAR. Quite right, Prince Paul; you are always right. See that the
Marquis's letters are made out at once.

PRINCE PAUL. He can start to-night, Sire. I shall really miss you very
much, Marquis. I always liked your taste in wines and wives extremely.

MARQ. DE POIV. (_to the CZAR_). Start to-night, Sire? (_PRINCE PAUL
whispers to the CZAR._)

CZAR. Yes, Marquis, to-night; it is better to go at once.

PRINCE PAUL. I shall see that Madame la Marquise is not too lonely while
you are away; so you need not be alarmed for her.

COUNT R. (_to PRINCE PETROVITCH_). I should be more alarmed for myself.

CZAR. The Governor of Archangel shot in his own courtyard by a woman!
I'm not safe here. I'm not safe anywhere, with that she devil of the
revolution, Vera Sabouroff, here in Moscow. Prince Paul, is that woman
still here?

PRINCE PAUL. They tell me she was at the Grand Duke's ball last night. I
can hardly believe that; but she certainly had intended to leave for
Novgorod to-day, Sire. The police were watching every train for her;
but, for some reason or other, she did not go. Some traitor must have
warned her. But I shall catch her yet. A chase after a beautiful woman
is always exciting.

CZAR. You must hunt her down with bloodhounds, and when she is taken I
shall hew her limb from limb. I shall stretch her on the rack till her
pale white body is twisted and curled like paper in the fire.

PRINCE PAUL. Oh, we shall have another hunt immediately for her, Sire!
Prince Alexis will assist us, I am sure.

CZARE. You never require any assistance to ruin a woman, Prince Paul.

CZAR. Vera, the Nihilist, in Moscow! O God,[13] were it not better to
die at once the dog's death they plot for me than to live as I live now!
Never to sleep, or, if I do, to dream such horrid dreams that Hell
itself were peace when matched with them. To trust none but those I have
bought, to buy none worth trusting! To see a traitor in every smile,
poison in every dish, a dagger in every