sk continued to grow
upon him. How would it all end, he asked impulsively. And what if they
were too late after all and his friend and patron were to be the victim
of old Boriskoff's vengeance? That would be terrible indeed--it would
drive him from Lois' friendship forever.

All this was in his mind as the dinner drew toward a conclusion and the
solemn waiters served them cigars and coffee. There had been some
cessation of the uproar in the streets during the latter moments; but a
new outcry arising presently, the Count suggested that they should
return to the balcony and see what was happening.

"I would have taken you to the theatre," he said laughingly, "but we
shall see something prettier here. They are firing their rifles, it
appears. Do not let us miss the play when we can have good seats for
nothing. And mind you bring that kummel, for it is the best in Europe."

They were just lighting the great arc lamps upon the avenue as the two
emerged from the dining-room and took up their stations by the railing
of the balcony. In the roadway below the spectacle had become superb in
its weird drama and excited ferocity. Great crowds passed incessantly
upon the broad pavements and were as frequently dispersed by the fiery
Cossacks who rode headlong as though mad with the lust of slaughter.
Holding all who were abroad to be their enemies, these fellows slashed
with their brutal whips at every upturned face and had no pity even for
the children. Alban saw little lads of ten and twelve years of age
carried bleeding from the streets--he beheld gentle women cut and lashed
until they fell dying upon the pavement--he heard the death-cry from
many a human throat. Just as the exiles had related it, so the drama
went, with a white-faced, terror-stricken mob for the people of its
scene and these devils upon their little horses for the chief actors.
When the troopers fell (and from time to time a bullet would find its
billet and leave a corpse rolling in a saddle) this was but the signal
for a new outburst, surpassing the old in its diabolical ferocity. A
very orgy of blood and slaughter; a Carnival of whips cutting deep into
soft white flesh and drawing from their victims cries so awful that
they might have risen up from hell itself.

And in this crowd, among this people perhaps, little Lois Boriskoff must
be looked for. Her friends would be the people's friends. Wayward as she
was, a true child of the streets, Alban did not believ