made
known to himself, in detail.

"There now, that's what we may call SCENT!" said Lebedeff, rubbing his
hands and laughing silently. "I thought it must be so, you see. The
general interrupted his innocent slumbers, at six o'clock, in order
to go and wake his beloved son, and warn him of the dreadful danger of
companionship with Ferdishenko. Dear me! what a dreadfully dangerous man
Ferdishenko must be, and what touching paternal solicitude, on the part
of his excellency, ha! ha! ha!"

"Listen, Lebedeff," began the prince, quite overwhelmed; "DO act
quietly--don't make a scandal, Lebedeff, I ask you--I entreat you! No
one must know--NO ONE, mind! In that case only, I will help you."

"Be assured, most honourable, most worthy of princes--be assured that
the whole matter shall be buried within my heart!" cried Lebedeff, in a
paroxysm of exaltation. "I'd give every drop of my blood... Illustrious
prince, I am a poor wretch in soul and spirit, but ask the veriest
scoundrel whether he would prefer to deal with one like himself, or with
a noble-hearted man like you, and there is no doubt as to his choice!
He'll answer that he prefers the noble-hearted man--and there you
have the triumph of virtue! Au revoir, honoured prince! You and I
together--softly! softly!"

X.

THE prince understood at last why he shivered with dread every time
he thought of the three letters in his pocket, and why he had put off
reading them until the evening.

When he fell into a heavy sleep on the sofa on the verandah, without
having had the courage to open a single one of the three envelopes, he
again dreamed a painful dream, and once more that poor, "sinful" woman
appeared to him. Again she gazed at him with tears sparkling on her long
lashes, and beckoned him after her; and again he awoke, as before, with
the picture of her face haunting him.

He longed to get up and go to her at once--but he COULD NOT. At length,
almost in despair, he unfolded the letters, and began to read them.

These letters, too, were like a dream. We sometimes have strange,
impossible dreams, contrary to all the laws of nature. When we awake we
remember them and wonder at their strangeness. You remember, perhaps,
that you were in full possession of your reason during this succession
of fantastic images; even that you acted with extraordinary logic and
cunning while surrounded by murderers who hid their intentions and made
great demonstrations of friendship, while wa