kies, for
the Gregoriev palace.

Piotr, on receipt of his master's note, carried it at once to his wife,
who was one of the half-dozen serfs educated through the influence of
Princess Sophia. And upon her explanation of its contents he rushed off
to set the kitchens in a hum of preparation. It was no novelty, this
order: a dinner for eight to be served at an hour's notice in his
excellency's dining-room, that the Princess need not be "disturbed." The
chef--a Frenchman, not a serf, chattered with excitement and displeasure
while he composed his hurried menu. Piotr and Sosha, the major-domo, set
to work together in the round dining-room in the Prince's wing, both of
them thinking drearily of the task that must be theirs in that same room
on the following morning. And all through the servants' quarters might
be heard, from time to time, a certain blasphemous little prayer,
uttered in the expressionless tone that bespoke long familiarity: "God
be merciful to us!"--the sign of the cross made in the air--"and cause
the devil soon to take unto himself his own!"

But the lord of the underworld had evidently no present need of the soul
of the head of the Gregoriev house. It was a quarter before seven when
the Prince's special suite was invaded by the noisy party, already in
the first state of reckless exhilaration induced by an extravagant use
of golden fluid so dear to the Russian palate. Piotr, Sosha, and three
or four of the older serfs who were accustomed to these entertainments,
were in attendance, all of them drooping with the fatigue of the
previous day, but none of them pausing to marvel at the vitality of
their master. The table was satisfactorily decorated. The ladies were
pleased to praise their corsage bouquets of camellias so hurriedly
obtained; and all the party partook heartily of the _hors d'oeuvres_
and liqueurs served on a side-table, according to the old Muscovite
custom. Gregoriev was the only one of them all who appeared to be quite
unaffected by what he had drunk. But he was, nevertheless, the evil
genius of the company, flattering the women, taunting the men, to
continually increasing libations.

Meantime, on the second floor of the palace, not far away from that
dining-room beneath, a very different meal was in progress. Princess
Gregoriev, her sister, and Ivan, her boy, sat together at a small, round
table, waited on by women. Only one of the three made much pretence at
eating. Madame Gregoriev, red-e