ns of shame and repudiation had
grown into an excitement of righteous anger. All the blood in his body
seemed to have rushed to his brain and to have remained there,
throbbing. Before his mental eyes rose mental pictures of the events in
his father's life: deeds of dishonor unregretted, that ate poisonously
into Ivan's sensitive intelligence. The fearful significance of the
foundations of the enormous wealth that had come to him; its foul
sources, its beginnings laid in filth, in deeds of blackness known to
men and left unrebuked through fear, came upon him, as it were, for the
first time. In this mood he sprang to his feet, hands shaking, eyes
ablaze, in his soul such a rage as he had never been subject to. For
an instant he stood wavering, gone blind and sick with the fury of
his shame. Then, with a hoarse and guttural cry, he threw himself
at the wall, snatched the great map from its fastenings, and tore,
and tore, and trampled and tore again, till that long record of
Russia's corruption lay scattered at his feet, a pile of crushed
and crumpled bits of the vellum that had been chosen because of its
indestructibility!

When the mood passed, as suddenly as it had risen, Ivan sank weakly back
into a chair, trembling, and gazing blankly at his bruised and bleeding
hands. He was in this state still when, to his astonishment and
displeasure, there came a knock at the door.--Had the years of his
father's discipline been obliterated in a single night?--What could
Piotr be about, thus to disobey his first command?--What!--Was the knock
repeated?

It was a stern and angry master that shot back the bolts of the door and
opened it by half an inch. And it was a very humble voice that addressed
him from without:

"May the Prince pardon his servant!--What choice had I? His Imperial
Highness the Governor-General commands your Excellency's presence. He is
in the outer office."

Struck though he was by the condescension of such a visit, Ivan
hesitated. Then, with a gesture of impatience, he came out, ignored
Piotr's exclamation at sight of his bleeding hands, and locked the door
after him, following his father's example of putting the key in his
pocket. In one moment he was standing in the presence of the uncle of
the Czar.

The Grand-Duke's greeting was gracious in the extreme; and five minutes
of condolences and conventionalities passed between them before Ivan,
driven by the recollection of infinite work to be begun, precipi