heard it, and had himself interposed
to produce quiet, if not peace. He resolved, therefore, to tell every
particular, from the moment of his arrival with Alexander at the Vinegar
Sellers' Landing to the time of his leaving Pera, that morning, on his
way back to Buyukdere.

There was some relief in having thus decided upon the course he should
follow; but the momentary satisfaction did not in the least lighten the
burden that weighed upon his heart. His anxiety was intense, and he
could not escape it, nor find any argument whereby to alleviate it. He
did not love his brother, or at least had never loved him before; but we
often find in life that a sudden fear for the safety of an individual,
for whom we believe we care nothing, brings out a latent affection which
we had not expected to feel. The bond of blood is a very strong one, and
asserts itself in extreme moments with an unsuspected tenacity which
works wonders, and which astonishes ourselves. The silken cord is
slender, but the hands must be strong that can break it. In spite of all
the misery his brother had caused him in boyhood, in spite of the
coolness which had existed between them in later years, in spite of the
humiliation he had so often suffered in seeing Alexander preferred
before him, yet at this moment, when, for a time, the only man who bore
his name had suddenly disappeared from the scene of life, Paul
discovered deep down in his heart a strange sympathy for the lost man.
He blamed himself bitterly for his carelessness, and, going back in his
memory, he recalled with sorrow the hard words which had passed between
them. He would have given much to be able to revoke the past and to
weave more affection into his remembrance of his brother; and at the
idea that he might perhaps never see him again, he turned pale, and
twisted his fingers uneasily in his agitation.

Meanwhile, the launch steamed bravely against the current, deftly
avoiding the swift eddies under the skillful hand of the pilot,
slackening her pace to let a big ferry-boat cross before her from Europe
to Asia, facing the fierce stream at Bala Hissar,--the devil's stream,
as the Turks call it,--and finally ploughing through the rushing waters
of Yeni Koej round the point where the Therapia pier juts out into the
placid bay of Buyukdere. Paul could see far down the pier the white
gates of the Russian embassy, and when, some ten minutes later, the
launch ran alongside the landing, he gathered