Chapter I

"SIRE, a fresh dispatch."
"Whence?"
"From Tomsk?"
"Is the wire cut beyond that city?"
"Yes, sire, since yesterday."
"Telegraph hourly to Tomsk, General, and keep me informed
of all that occurs."
"Sire, it shall be done," answered General Kissoff.
These words were exchanged about two hours after midnight,
at the moment when the party given at the New Palace was at
the height of its splendor.
During the whole evening the bands of the Preobra-jensky and Paulowsky
regiments had played without cessation polkas, mazurkas, schottisches,
and waltzes from among the choicest of their repertoires.
Innumerable couples of dancers whirled through the magnificent saloons
of the palace, which stood at a few paces only from the "old house
of stones"--in former days the scene of so many terrible dramas,
the echoes of whose walls were this night awakened by the gay strains
of the musicians.
The grand-chamberlain of the court, was, besides, well seconded
in his arduous and delicate duties.  The grand-dukes and their
aides-de-camp, the chamberlains-in-waiting and other officers of
the palace, presided personally in the arrangement of the dances.
The grand duchesses, covered with diamonds, the ladies-in-waiting
in their most exquisite costumes, set the example to the wives
of the military and civil dignitaries of the ancient "city
of white stone."  When, therefore, the signal for the "polonaise"
resounded through the saloons, and the guests of all ranks took
part in that measured promenade, which on occasions of this kind
has all the importance of a national dance, the mingled costumes,
the sweeping robes adorned with lace, and uniforms covered with orders,
presented a scene of dazzling splendor, lighted by hundreds of lusters
multiplied tenfold by the numerous mirrors adorning the walls.
The grand saloon, the finest of all those contained in the New Palace,
formed to this procession of exalted personages and splendidly
dressed women a frame worthy of the magnificence they displayed.
The rich ceiling, with its gilding already softened by the touch
of time, appeared as if glittering with stars.  The embroidered
drapery of the curtains and doors, falling in gorgeous folds,
assumed rich and varied hues, broken by the shadows of the heavy
masses of damask.
Through the panes of the vast semicircular bay-windows
the light, with which the saloons were filled, shone forth
with the brilliancy of a conflagration, vividly illuminating
the gloom in which for some hours the palace had been shrouded.
The attention of those of the guests not taking
part in the dancing was attracted by the contrast.
Resting in the recesses of the windows, they could discern,
standing out dimly in the darkness, the vague outlines of the
countless towers, domes, and spires which adorn the ancient city.
Below the sculptured balconies were visible numerous sentries,
pacing silently up and down, their rifles carried horizontally
on the shoulder, and the spikes of their helmets glittering
like flames in the glare of light issuing from the palace.
The steps also of the patrols could be heard beating
time on the stones beneath with even more regularity
than the feet of the dancers on the floor of the saloon.
From time to time the watchword was repeated from post to post,
and occasionally the notes of a trumpet, mingling with
the strains of the orchestra, penetrated into their midst.
Still farther down, in front of the facade, dark masses
obscured the rays of light which proceeded from the windows
of the New Palace.  These were boats descending the course
of a river, whose waters, faintly illumined by a few lamps,
washed the lower portion of the terraces.
The principal personage who has been mentioned, the giver of the fete,
and to whom General Kissoff had been speaking in that tone
of respect with which sovereigns alone are usually addressed,
wore the simple uniform of an officer of chasseurs of the guard.
This was not affectation on his part, but the custom of a man
who cared little for dress, his contrasting strongly with the
gorgeous costumes amid which he moved, encircled by his escort
of Georgians, Cossacks, and Circassians--a brilliant band,
splendidly clad in the glittering uniforms of the Caucasus.
This personage, of lofty stature, affable demeanor,
and physiognomy calm, though bearing traces of anxiety,
moved from group to group, seldom speaking, and appearing to pay
but little attention either to the merriment of the younger guests
or the graver remarks of the exalted dignitaries or members
of the diplomatic corps who represented at the Russian court
the principal governments of Europe.  Two or three of these
astute politicians--physiognomists by virtue of their profession--
failed not to detect on the countenance of their host symptoms
of disquietude, the source of which eluded their penetration;
but none ventured to interrogate him on the subject.
It was evidently the intention of the officer of chasseurs that his
own anxieties should in no way cast a shade over the festivities;
and, as he was a personage whom almost the population of a world
in itself was wont to obey, the gayety of the ball was not for
a moment checked.
Nevertheless, General Kissoff waited until the officer to whom
he had just communicated the dispatch forwarded from Tomsk should give
him permission to withdraw; but the latter still remained silent.
He had taken the telegram, he had read it carefully,
and his visage became even more clouded than before.
Involuntarily he sought the hilt of his sword, and then
passed his hand for an instant before his eyes, as though,
dazzled by the brilliancy of the light, he wished to shade them,
the better to see into the recesses of his own mind.
"We are, then," he continued, after having drawn General Kissoff
aside towards a window, "since yesterday without intelligence
from the Grand Duke?"
"Without any, sire; and it is to be feared that in a short time
dispatches will no longer cross the Siberian frontier."
"But have not the troops of the provinces of Amoor and Irkutsk,
as those also of the Trans-Balkan territory, received orders
to march immediately upon Irkutsk?"
"The orders were transmitted by the last telegram we were able
to send beyond Lake Baikal."
"And the governments of Yeniseisk, Omsk, Semipolatinsk,
and Tobolsk--are we still in direct communication with them
as before the insurrection?"
"Yes, sire; our dispatches have reached them, and we are assured
at the present moment that the Tartars have not advanced beyond
the Irtish and the Obi."
"And the traitor Ivan Ogareff, are there no tidings of him?"
"None," replied General Kissoff.  "The head of the police cannot
state whether or not he has crossed the frontier."
"Let a description of him be immediately dispatched to
Nijni-Novgorod, Perm, Ekaterenburg, Kasirnov, Tioumen, Ishim, Omsk, Tomsk,
and to all the telegraphic stations with which communication
is yet open."
"Your majesty's orders shall be instantly carried out."
"You will observe the strictest silence as to this."
The General, having made a sign of respectful assent, bowing low,
mingled with the crowd, and finally left the apartments without
his departure being remarked.
The officer remained absorbed in thought for a few moments, when,
recovering himself, he went among the various groups in the saloon,
his countenance reassuming that calm aspect which had for an
instant been disturbed.
Nevertheless, the important occurrence which had occasioned
these rapidly exchanged words was not so unknown as the officer
of the chasseurs of the guard and General Kissoff had
possibly supposed.  It was not spoken of officially, it is true,
nor even officiously, since tongues were not free; but a few
exalted personages had been informed, more or less exactly,
of the events which had taken place beyond the frontier.
At any rate, that which was only slightly known, that which was not
matter of conversation even between members of the corps diplomatique,
two guests, distinguished by no uniform, no decoration,
at this reception in the New Palace, discussed in a low voice,
and with apparently very correct information.
By what means, by the exercise of what acuteness had these two ordinary
mortals ascertained that which so many persons of the highest rank
and importance scarcely even suspected?  It is impossible to say.
Had they the gifts of foreknowledge and foresight?  Did they
possess a supplementary sense, which enabled them to see beyond
that limited horizon which bounds all human gaze?  Had they obtained
a peculiar power of divining the most secret events?  Was it owing
to the habit, now become a second nature, of living on information,
that their mental constitution had thus become really transformed?
It was difficult to escape from this conclusion.
Of these two men, the one was English, the other French; both were tall
and thin, but the latter was sallow as are the southern Provencals,
while the former was ruddy like a Lancashire gentleman.
The Anglo-Norman, formal, cold, grave, parsimonious of gestures
and words, appeared only to speak or gesticulate under
the influence of a spring operating at regular intervals.
The Gaul, on the contrary, lively and petulant, expressed himself
with lips, eyes, hands, all at once, having twenty different
ways of explaining his thoughts, whereas his interlocutor seemed
to have only one, immutably stereotyped on his brain.
The strong contrast they presented would at once have struck the most
superficial observer; but a physiognomist, regarding them closely,
would have defined their particular characteristics by saying,
that if the Frenchman was "all eyes," the Englishman was "all ears."
In fact, the visual apparatus of the one had been singularly
perfected by practice.  The sensibility of its retina must
have been as instantaneous as that of those conjurors who
recognize a card merely by a rapid movement in cutting the pack
or by the arrangement only of marks invisible to others.
The Frenchman indeed possessed in the highest degree what may
be called "the memory of the eye."
The Englishman, on the contrary, appeared especially organized
to listen and to hear.  When his aural apparatus had been once
struck by the sound of a voice he could not forget it, and after ten
or even twenty years he would have recognized it among a thousand.
His ears, to be sure, had not the power of moving as freely
as those of animals who are provided with large auditory flaps;
but, since scientific men know that human ears possess, in fact,
a very limited power of movement, we should not be far wrong
in affirming that those of the said Englishman became erect,
and turned in all directions while endeavoring to gather
in the sounds, in a manner apparent only to the naturalist.
It must be observed that this perfection of sight and hearing
was of wonderful assistance to these two men in their vocation,
for the Englishman acted as correspondent of the Daily Telegraph,
and the Frenchman, as correspondent of what newspaper,
or of what newspapers, he did not say; and when asked,
he replied in a jocular manner that he corresponded with "his
cousin Madeleine."  This Frenchman, however, neath his
careless surface, was wonderfully shrewd and sagacious.
Even while speaking at random, perhaps the better to hide his desire
to learn, he never forgot himself.  His loquacity even helped him
to conceal his thoughts, and he was perhaps even more discreet
than his confrere of the Daily Telegraph.  Both were present
at this fete given at the New Palace on the night of the 15th
of July in their character of reporters.
It is needless to say that these two men were devoted to their mission
in the world--that they delighted to throw themselves in the track
of the most unexpected intelligence--that nothing terrified or
discouraged them from succeeding--that they possessed the imperturbable
sang froid and the genuine intrepidity of men of their calling.
Enthusiastic jockeys in this steeplechase, this hunt after information,
they leaped hedges, crossed rivers, sprang over fences, with the ardor
of pure-blooded racers, who will run "a good first" or die!
Their journals did not restrict them with regard to money--
the surest, the most rapid, the most perfect element of information
known to this day.  It must also be added, to their honor,
that neither the one nor the other ever looked over or listened
at the walls of private life, and that they only exercised
their vocation when political or social interests were at stake.
In a word, they made what has been for some years called "the
great political and military reports."
It will be seen, in following them, that they had generally an
independent mode of viewing events, and, above all, their consequences,
each having his own way of observing and appreciating.
The French correspondent was named Alcide Jolivet.  Harry Blount
was the name of the Englishman.  They had just met for the first time
at this fete in the New Palace, of which they had been ordered to give
an account in their papers.  The dissimilarity of their characters,
added to a certain amount of jealousy, which generally exists
between rivals in the same calling, might have rendered them
but little sympathetic.  However, they did not avoid each other,
but endeavored rather to exchange with each other the chat of the day.
They were sportsmen, after all, hunting on the same ground.
That which one missed might be advantageously secured by the other,
and it was to their interest to meet and converse.
This evening they were both on the look out; they felt, in fact,
that there was something in the air.
"Even should it be only a wildgoose chase," said Alcide Jolivet
to himself, "it may be worth powder and shot."
The two correspondents therefore began by cautiously sounding each other.
"Really, my dear sir, this little fete is charming!"
said Alcide Jolivet pleasantly, thinking himself obliged to begin
the conversation with this eminently French phrase.
"I have telegraphed already, 'splendid!'" replied Harry Blount calmly,
employing the word specially devoted to expressing admiration by all
subjects of the United Kingdom.
"Nevertheless," added Alcide Jolivet, "I felt compelled to remark
to my cousin--"
"Your cousin?" repeated Harry Blount in a tone of surprise,
interrupting his brother of the pen.
"Yes," returned Alcide Jolivet, "my cousin Madeleine.  It is with her
that I correspond, and she likes to be quickly and well informed,
does my cousin.  I therefore remarked to her that, during this fete,
a sort of cloud had appeared to overshadow the sovereign's brow."
"To me, it seemed radiant," replied Harry Blount, who perhaps,
wished to conceal his real opinion on this topic.
"And, naturally, you made it 'radiant,' in the columns of
the Daily Telegraph."
"Exactly."
"Do you remember, Mr. Blount, what occurred at Zakret in 1812?"
"I remember it as well as if I had been there, sir,"
replied the English correspondent.
"Then," continued Alcide Jolivet, "you know that, in the middle of a
fete given in his honor, it was announced to the Emperor Alexander
that Napoleon had just crossed the Niemen with the vanguard of
the French army.  Nevertheless the Emperor did not leave the fete,
and notwithstanding the extreme gravity of intelligence which might cost
him his empire, he did not allow himself to show more uneasiness."
"Than our host exhibited when General Kissoff informed him
that the telegraphic wires had just been cut between the frontier
and the government of Irkutsk."
"Ah! you are aware of that?"
"I am!"
"As regards myself, it would be difficult to avoid knowing it,
since my last telegram reached Udinsk," observed Alcide Jolivet,
with some satisfaction.
"And mine only as far as Krasnoiarsk," answered Harry Blount,
in a no less satisfied tone.
"Then you know also that orders have been sent to the
troops of Nikolaevsk?"
"I do, sir; and at the same time a telegram was sent to the Cossacks
of the government of Tobolsk to concentrate their forces."
"Nothing can be more true, Mr. Blount; I was equally well acquainted
with these measures, and you may be sure that my dear cousin shall
know of them to-morrow."
"Exactly as the readers of the Daily Telegraph shall know
it also, M. Jolivet."
"Well, when one sees all that is going on. . . ."
"And when one hears all that is said. . . ."
"An interesting campaign to follow, Mr. Blount."
"I shall follow it, M. Jolivet!"
"Then it is possible that we shall find ourselves on ground
less safe, perhaps, than the floor of this ball-room."
"Less safe, certainly, but--"
"But much less slippery," added Alcide Jolivet, holding up his companion,
just as the latter, drawing back, was about to lose his equilibrium.
Thereupon the two correspondents separated, pleased that the one
had not stolen a march on the other.
At that moment the doors of the rooms adjoining the great reception
saloon were thrown open, disclosing to view several immense tables
beautifully laid out, and groaning under a profusion of valuable
china and gold plate.  On the central table, reserved for
the princes, princesses, and members of the corps diplomatique,
glittered an epergne of inestimable price, brought from London,
and around this chef-d'oeuvre of chased gold reflected under
the light of the lusters a thousand pieces of most beautiful
service from the manufactories of Sevres.
The guests of the New Palace immediately began to stream
towards the supper-rooms.
At that moment.  General Kissoff, who had just re-entered, quickly
approached the officer of chasseurs.
"Well?" asked the latter abruptly, as he had done the former time.
"Telegrams pass Tomsk no longer, sire."
"A courier this moment!"
The officer left the hall and entered a large antechamber adjoining.
It was a cabinet with plain oak furniture, situated in an angle of
the New Palace.  Several pictures, amongst others some by Horace Vernet,
hung on the wall.
The officer hastily opened a window, as if he felt the want
of air, and stepped out on a balcony to breathe the pure
atmosphere of a lovely July night.  Beneath his eyes,
bathed in moonlight, lay a fortified inclosure, from which
rose two cathedrals, three palaces, and an arsenal.
Around this inclosure could be seen three distinct towns:
Kitai-Gorod, Beloi-Gorod, Zemlianai-Gorod--European, Tartar,
and Chinese quarters of great extent, commanded by towers,
belfries, minarets, and the cupolas of three hundred churches,
with green domes, surmounted by the silver cross.
A little winding river, here and there reflected the rays
of the moon.
This river was the Moskowa; the town Moscow; the fortified inclosure
the Kremlin; and the officer of chasseurs of the guard, who, with folded
arms and thoughtful brow, was listening dreamily to the sounds floating
from the New Palace over the old Muscovite city, was the Czar.