all the ill-mannered Tchinn in Russia—had been
too much for the poor dear child. But it was not
on Sophie's account that her grand-parents were
so ill at ease. It was on Gliska's. Gliska had
not returned to his lodgings on the previous
night. His servant, alarmed at the non-arrival
of his master, had come early to the palace to
ask for news concerning him. One of the
Leczinzka chasseurs had seen the prisoners of
the night before led away to the Conciergerie,
and was sure, or nearly sure, that one of them
was the missing chevalier.

I heard this news with mixed feelings. An
Englishman's instinct always rises in arms
against an act of arbitrary oppression; and
the arrest of the night before had in it
something of cat-like and Oriental stealthiness that
was peculiarly odious. But I had an uneasy
distrust of the chevalier, a smouldering jealousy
which I tried to trample down, and I could not
help feeling a vague sense of relief.

However, while I was copying a précis in the
attaché's room at the embassy that afternoon,
old Mr. Campbell came in, chuckling and
rubbing his hands.

"Yon fine conspeeracy has just turned out a
mere flash in the pan—a mare's-nest of the
police," said he; "the chaps are set free, Gliska
and the rest of them. Their captivity was over
by lunch-time."

"Then there was no real plot, after all?"
I asked, looking up from my writing.

"I canna tell," said the cautious Scot,
shaking his head as he took a fresh pinch of
high-dried; "the thing broke down for want of
evidence—a verdict of not proven, as we say in
the north. They say the emperor had Gliska
taken into his own cabinet, and questioned him
there, but couldna cross-examine much out of
the close fellow. And the story goes that his
majesty said, in a loud voice, before the aide-
de-camp, 'You may go, chevalier, but be careful
how you give me the right to punish!'
Nicholas is ill to thwart. He likes contradiction
even less than conspeeracy, so I'd advise
M. Gliska to heed his steps in future."

Gliska had, in effect, been set at liberty, and
I met him that evening, calm and elegant as
ever, at the Leczinzka mansion. He said very
little about the exciting events of the night, or
the formidable interview of the morning, but
talked pleasantly on general topics. Sophie was
present, having fortunately recovered from her
headache, but she was silent and thoughtful,
and I fancied that I detected a glance of intelligence
once or twice between her cousin and
herself. But I soon felt convinced that I was
mistaken. Gliska paid no sort of attention to Sophie.
He addressed her rarely, and never with any
particular show of interest; indeed, he spoke
less to her than to her brother, a pale sleepy-
eyed stripling, whose Russian tutor was his
inseparable Mentor and companion.

The noise the arrest had made in St. Petersburg
society soon died away, and the usual
round of gaieties went on, as if Siberia and the
knout, plots and disaffection, had been myths.
My own prospects unexpectedly improved. The
relative to whose estate I was heir of entail, and
whom I had never seen, since he had lived in
morose seclusion, died, and I found myself rich
enough to lead an idle life. An idle life
was not my choice, however, and at about the
same time that I succeeded to this inheritance
I seemed likely to rise in my professional career.
Certain promotions and retirements had taken
place among the diplomatists, in consequence of
which I was promised the post of senior attaché
at one of the Southern courts, as soon as the
present occupant should vacate it: which would
probably be in early summer.

Fortified by this intelligence, I was
encouraged to renew, or rather to press, my suit
for Sophie's hand; the old prince standing
my friend in the affair, the princess's objections
to parting with her granddaughter were by
degrees overruled. As for Sophie's consent, that
was rather assumed than asked for. Her grandfather
blessed her, and stroked her raven hair as
caressingly as if she had been a child for whom
some holiday treat was in preparation; her
grandmother cried as she pressed her darling in
her arms, and dilated on the happiness of her
future life and the splendours of her prospective
trousseau. It was settled that Sophie and I
were to be married soon after Easter; that in the
mean time milliners, lawyers, and jewellers were
to be busy in providing laces, diamonds, and
deeds of settlement; and that all was to go
merry as a marriage bell.

In all this arrangement, the bride elect's part
seemed a curiously passive one. Sophie
Leczinzka neither ratified nor rejected the engagement
which her nearest relations had thought
fit to conclude on her account; she listened
submissively to all the prince and princess chose
to say on the subject, kissed their wrinkled
hands in the ancient Polish fashion in sign of
obedience, made me a formal curtsey, and left
the room with downcast eyes and something
like a smothered sob. After that, Sophie
always seemed to shrink from me; her spirits
grew variable, her cheek thinner, her manner
graver and more thoughtful. I ought to have
read the lesson thus mutely conveyed, but
I was wilfully blind to it, and lent too ready
an ear to the assurances of the old folks that
Sophie's manner was merely the result of
girlish timidity and a deep sense of duty. The
aged princess, in especial, was confident that
her grandchild esteemed me quite as highly as
could be expected from "a young person bien
élèvée."

I must not, the old lady said, judge of the
sentiments of a Polish girl as if she were a
"Meess Anglaise."

Gliska's conduct left no room for fault-finding.
He wished me joy, as the phrase goes,
politely, but with no affectation of heartiness.
Indeed, we had never been intimate, though I
had been at first disposed to like him well
enough; but there was something dark and
inscrutable in his bearing and disposition, very
unusual among his rash chivalrous countrymen.