one when I heard my name pronounced, and saw the welcome countenance of
my friend Guiscard by my side. He had arrived but on that day, on a
mission from his court; had, with his usual eagerness of friendship,
gone to enquire for me at the hotel of the embassy; and thus followed
me to the fete at the critical time. As he supported me to my equipage,
I communicated the circumstances of the rencontre to his clear head and
generous heart; and he fully agreed with me on the duty of instantly
apprising the Czar of his probable danger. As I was unable to move
through pain and feebleness, he offered to take the roll with him, and
demand an interview with the sovereign himself, if possible; or, if not,
with the governor of the palace. The paper contained not only names of
individuals, all, long before, objects of public suspicion, but a sketch
of the imperial apartments, and, at the bottom, the words--"three hours
after midnight." I looked at my watch, it was already half-past two.
This might, or might not be, the appointed night for this dreadful
business; but, if it were, there was but one half hour between the
throne and the grave. Guiscard hurried off, leaving me in the deepest
anxiety, but promising to return as speedily as in his power. But he
came not. My anxiety grew intolerable; hour after hour passed away,
while I reckoned minute after minute, as if they were so much drained
from my own existence. Even, if I had been able to move, it was
impossible to know where to follow him. His steps might have been
watched. Doubtless the conspirators were on the alert to prevent any
approach to the palace. He might have fallen by the pistol of some of
those men, who had not scrupled to conspire against their monarch. The
most miserable of nights at length wore away; but it was only to be
succeeded by the most fearful of mornings. The career of Paul was
closed! On the entrance of the chamberlains into his sleeping apartment,
the unhappy Czar was found dead. There could be no doubt that he had
perished by treason. He was strangled. The intelligence no sooner spread
through the capital, than it produced a burst of national sorrow. All
his errors were forgotten. All his good qualities were remembered.

But where was my gallant and excellent friend--Guiscard?--Of him I heard
nothing.

Another week of suspense, and he appeared. His history was of the most
singular kind. On the night when I had last seen him, he had made his
way through