citement, the Prince and Princess
Gregoriev came together near the door of the specially prepared
antechamber where his Majesty was to have his furs removed. Sophia's
cheeks were flushed, her eyes burning again; but the face of Michael
Petrovitch had become once more impenetrable. There were three minutes
of the strained attention. Then, from the door of the antechamber,
appeared a stately man, clad in a magnificent uniform, his breast
covered with medals and crosses. When they were still many feet apart, a
look passed between him and Prince Michael; and, in that look, a new,
undying enmity was born in Gregoriev's fierce soul. For the guest from
the Kremlin was _not_ the Czar, but the Czar's most detested envoy: the
notorious Count Alderberg, Minister of the Imperial Household. And his
words to the host and hostess began with the infuriating, formal: "I
regret--"

Even through that moment of greeting, Princess Sophia scarcely
understood the full significance of this presence. Surely, if the Czar
had sent a proxy, it meant, at least, recognition. But as the Count
carried his cynical smile and gorgeous personality away in the
direction of the dining-room, and the poor lady turned to her husband,
she was stricken dumb at sight of the blind fury in his face. It was a
look that she had known before--too well. Yet never, perhaps, had such a
concentrated mixture of defeat, rage, and rebellion glared from those
eyes or straightened that heavy mouth. Now, indeed, she knew that they
were undone.

"Alderberg! Alderberg! By God and the devil, had I dreamed--" The
low-muttered words trailed off and were bitten into silence, while, by a
fierce contortion of the muscles, Michael straightened his face into a
semblance of calm. But the hands hanging at his sides were clinched till
the nails pierced his palms, and the veins started out, knotted and
purple, from his flesh.

For some moments the Princess stood irresolute, terrified lest her
guests should witness some part of this outbreak. Madame Dravikine was
first to emerge from the throng; and she came towards them, dismay
written in her face. She sent one glance at Michael; and then, biting
her lip, took her sister's hand in a gentle clasp.

"Ah! You, too, Katrelka!" whispered Sophia. "You, too, think it so bad?"

Caroline shook her head sadly. "We are helpless, Sophie. A fit of
Nicholas' laziness has lost the world to you. Look!"

There was no time for response; for, at this mo