ess of the city within the space of fifteen minutes. There
had, indeed, been some who had arrived after his Excellency the Count.
These, perceiving the crowd out-streaming, divined calamity, and,
without so much as descending from their sleighs, turned about and
departed as they had come.

By half-past one o'clock three figures stood alone in the great hall;
while on the staircase, beside the motionless Diana, crouched a lonely,
frightened child, who still stared, as if with enchanted eyes, at his
mother's white, despairing face. Princess Sophia stood motionless, her
head bent, her hands clasped tightly before her, persistently avoiding
her husband's eyes. Caroline, with a half-protective air, was between
her sister and her brother-in-law. Michael, his face as colorless as
that of the statue, his eyes alight with the fire in his brain, stared
straight before him, into some bitter world of his own. About them was
the unbearable silence which Madame Dravikine, who alone was
unaccustomed to it, finally broke in desperation:

"Come, Sophie! Come to bed. You are too tired to stay down here. You'll
be ill."

But, at the moment, Sophia had, in her heart, the thought of another
than herself. At sight of some unwonted suggestion in his face of a pain
with which she had been long familiar, there had entered into her heart
a sudden pity for the man she so feared. Imbued with a momentary
courage, she advanced to her husband and took his hand. "Michael," she
murmured, "I--am sorry."

The man started in amazement, and then drew away from her, at the same
time turning upon her his burning eyes. "_Sorry!_ Good God! Then get to
your ikons and pray. For me--there's no sorrow for me. Nicholas has
played his game. Now mine begins. Sorrow for him, if you like. For, by
the help of Satan, he and Moscow shall know me yet!"

The low-spoken words ended with a snarl of inarticulate anger. And the
moment they were uttered, he turned brusquely, and, without another word
or look, disappeared in the direction of his offices, where, as his wife
knew, he would probably work till far into the next day.

The two women watched him go. Then, after a pause, they found themselves
clinging to each other, and in this fashion began the ascent of the
stairs. Both of them were weeping: not loudly; rather as the reaction
from the strain of the past hour. As they reached the landing, they were
joined by another. Ivan came openly from his hiding-place, and bar