had first given him his real sense of obligation to them, her teachings,
even before the war began, that had shown him how terrible were the
problems that confronted his future._

_His service in the Army had opened his eyes still wider and when Russia
had deserted her allies he had returned to Zukovo to begin the work of
reconstruction in the ways his awakened conscience had dictated. He had
visited their homes, offered them counsel, given them such money as he
could spare, and had, he thought, become their friend as well as their
hereditary guardian. All had gone well at first. They had listened to
him, accepted his advice and his money and renewed their fealty under
the new order of things, vowing that whatever happened elsewhere in
Russia, blood and agony and starvation should not visit Zukovo._

_But the news that Vasili brought was disquieting. It meant that the
minds of his people were again disturbed. And the fact that Prince
Galitzin had always been hated made the problems the Grand Duke faced
none the less difficult. For his people had burned, pillaged and killed.
They had betrayed him. And he had learned in the Army what fire and the
smell of blood could do...._

_With a quick nod of resolution he rose. He would go to them. He knew
their leaders. They would listen to him. They_ must _listen...._

_He closed the piano carefully, putting away the loose sheets of music,
picked up his cap and heavy riding crop from the divan, on his way to
the door, pausing, his hand on the bell-rope as a thought brought a
deeper frown to his brow.... Why had Conrad Grabar, his chief forester,
said nothing to-day? He must have known--for news such as this travels
from leaf to leaf through the forest. Conrad! And yet he would have
sworn by the faithfulness of his old friend and hunting companion.
Perhaps Conrad had not known...._

_The Grand Duke pulled the bell-rope, then went to the window again and
stood as though listening for the voices of the woods. Silence. The sun
had sunk, a dull red ball, and the dusk was falling swiftly. The aspens
below his window quivered slightly, throwing their white leaves upwards
as though in pain. The stately pines that he loved, mute, solemn,
changeless, filled the air with balsam, but they gave no answer to his
problem. It was difficult to believe that, there, in the restless souls
of men war could rage. And yet...._

_He peered out more intently. Beyond the pine forest, a murky cloud was