her heart warmed and thrilled again as it had in that
long-past, joyous winter of her presentation.

By half an hour past midnight the rooms were crowded and there had
settled over the company a hush: that peculiar stillness of expectancy
that is destruction to the nerves of a host. In this special pause,
however, lay something beyond the ordinary: a discomfort, a palpable
uneasiness, that sheathed a subtle threat. Sophia, with her woman's
instinct, was no quicker to perceive it than her husband. They, with
Countess Caroline and every other woman in the rooms, put the same
interpretation upon that significant lull. It spoke thus: "It is late,
and he whom we were commanded to meet is not here. His Imperial
Majesty's name forced us to this house. Now he has not come. Is the
thing a trick? Michael Petrovitch Gregoriev, have you been capable of
_this_? Dared you dream that such folly of deceit could really help
you?"

Such was the unmistakable sentiment in the air when, at a quarter before
one, the sisters met in a corner of the dining-room, and there passed
between them a white-faced look. Then Madame Dravikine whispered:

"Sophie, what does it mean? _Did_ Nicholas promise?"

The question was a mistake. Princess Gregoriev's lips went white, and
she seemed to speak with difficulty. "Caroline! Then _you_ were not
assured by him? You as well as Michael have deceived me?"

Madame Dravikine flushed scarlet. "I have never discussed your affairs
with his Majesty," she returned, haughtily.

Sophia made no reply. Her face, if possible, grew a little more livid,
her eyes a trifle more piteous.

Caroline, in spite of her resentment, was touched with pity and with
fear; so that, presently, she burst out, impulsively: "Then you are
_ruined_, Sophie! Absolutely ruined!"

Suddenly, Princess Sophia's lips curled into a bitter smile. "I have
been ruined, as you call it, for eighteen years. This--this fiasco
cannot make it any worse!" And, before that expressionless tone, Madame
Dravikine was still.

A moment or two after this encounter, however, there came a sudden stir.
Beyond the dining-room, in the central hall, was a visible flutter of
excitement, and whispers sped rapidly through the rooms.

"He has really come!"

"The Czar is here!"

"After all, his Majesty has arrived."

"Where is he, then?"

"In his dressing-room. The royal sleigh is at the gate."

"Ah! Then we must remain!"

During the first seconds of the ex