rmured the poor prince, who didn't
know where to look. "Your memoirs would be most interesting."

The general was, of course, repeating what he had told Lebedeff the
night before, and thus brought it out glibly enough, but here he looked
suspiciously at the prince out of the corners of his eyes.

"My memoirs!" he began, with redoubled pride and dignity. "Write my
memoirs? The idea has not tempted me. And yet, if you please, my memoirs
have long been written, but they shall not see the light until dust
returns to dust. Then, I doubt not, they will be translated into all
languages, not of course on account of their actual literary merit, but
because of the great events of which I was the actual witness, though
but a child at the time. As a child, I was able to penetrate into the
secrecy of the great man's private room. At nights I have heard the
groans and wailings of this 'giant in distress.' He could feel no shame
in weeping before such a mere child as I was, though I understood even
then that the reason for his suffering was the silence of the Emperor
Alexander."

"Yes, of course; he had written letters to the latter with proposals of
peace, had he not?" put in the prince.

"We did not know the details of his proposals, but he wrote letter after
letter, all day and every day. He was dreadfully agitated. Sometimes at
night I would throw myself upon his breast with tears (Oh, how I
loved that man!). 'Ask forgiveness, Oh, ask forgiveness of the Emperor
Alexander!' I would cry. I should have said, of course, 'Make peace
with Alexander,' but as a child I expressed my idea in the naive way
recorded. 'Oh, my child,' he would say (he loved to talk to me and
seemed to forget my tender years), 'Oh, my child, I am ready to kiss
Alexander's feet, but I hate and abominate the King of Prussia and the
Austrian Emperor, and--and--but you know nothing of politics, my child.'
He would pull up, remembering whom he was speaking to, but his eyes
would sparkle for a long while after this. Well now, if I were to
describe all this, and I have seen greater events than these, all these
critical gentlemen of the press and political parties--Oh, no thanks!
I'm their very humble servant, but no thanks!"

"Quite so--parties--you are very right," said the prince. "I was reading
a book about Napoleon and the Waterloo campaign only the other day, by
Charasse, in which the author does not attempt to conceal his joy at
Napoleon's discomfiture at ev