but as one gold piece in a mint. He
had been left his father's sole heir; and a few hours more would see him
one of the wealthiest Princes in Europe. Strange, then, that, as he
reflected on these things, there was no joy in his heart, but, rather,
sensations of revolt and horror, flaming against a background of
dreariness unspeakable: the combination forming an emotion the memory of
which caused this day to stand out from its fellows draped in midnight
darkness.

It was afternoon before the young man reascended to the antechamber,
where Pavaniev greeted him with the report: "Great exhaustion, lapsing
from semi to total unconsciousness." Any attempt at rousing might
possibly prove fatal.--Was there any message?--No?--Then one could but
wait.--These things were, indeed, most trying. And so Ivan seated
himself on a bench against the wall in the dark little room, to wait.

There come to most lives certain periods of crisis, when the violence of
shock drives away every commonplace thought or remembrance; when the
mind seems a comparative blank, and time ceases to have any meaning. For
an instant, or an hour, a mortal gazes out upon the void of eternity. So
was it with Ivan, to-day. He sat for the most part huddled in a chair,
lost in depths of the past, the strangeness of the present, the blank of
the morrow. Memories of the last, agonizing, saintly hours of his
mother's life, mingled themselves with remorse for his present numb
indifference. A chaos of thoughts and dreams followed, bringing up
detached visions of the various periods of his life. In the midst of
them he was summoned to another meal; and he followed Piotr docilely to
the table, this time trying to force a little food between his lips.

It did not occur to him to re-enter the bedroom;--afterwards he wondered
why. Neither, however, did he think of going to bed. Numberless people
were calling at the palace for information:--among them the
Governor-General, who came in person. Ivan, however, saw no one; and by
ten o'clock the house was wrapped in a vast silence. Piotr came to tell
the heir that his old room was prepared; but Ivan still sat beside the
fire, smoking, lost in vague conjectures. It was as well that he had not
gone to bed. Precisely at midnight--the ghostly hour--the older doctor
came quietly in to him.

"Your Excellency, I regret to inform you that your father, Prince
Michael, passed from us five minutes ago."

* * * *