beautiful daughters of the Swedish minister
would represent the Seasons; and so on,
interminably.

It struck me that Sophie's interest in this
ball was more than natural, but it never slackened
during the few intervening days, and her
spirits rose and fell in a capricious manner.
At one time she was as happy and light of heart
as a bird on a sunlit bough; at another there
would be tear-drops clinging to her dark eye-
lashes, and she had the drooping head and
dejected look of that same bird when prisoned in
a cage. Her old grand-parents did not wonder
at these abrupt transitions.

"Les jeunes filles, my dear Acton," said the
aged prince, lightly tapping his enamelled snuff-
box; "les jeunes filles—who can reason with
them? They have whims; that is all."

The great night came, and with it came
the south wind and a thaw. The soft snow
became of the consistency of treacle, and the
horses had to labour hard to drag the runners
of the carriages, which had so lately glided
easily along over a frozen surface, through the
tenacious drift. But it was done, somehow, and
the superb saloons of the Austrian minister began
to fill with guests, some in dominoes, and the
majority in fanciful attire of every period and
country. I shall not describe the fête. It was
splendid and tasteful in its way, and the crowd
thickened and thickened, and the music swelled
higher and higher, as half, or more than half, of
the "society" of St. Petersburg passed in. The
emperor and empress realised Sophie's anticipations,
for they paid the Prince and Princess of
Wittgenstein the compliment of their presence.
They walked, unmasked, through the rooms, the
glittering company parting into two lines to give
them free passage; both czar and czarina smiled
graciously, and addressed a civil word, here and
there, to some well-known personages. The band
played the Russian anthem, and every face was
uncovered, in deference to the august visitors, as
they moved slowly past.

But those who were best used to watch the
face of the strong-willed despot, whose personal
influence was mightier, at that time, than any
czar's since Peter the Great, felt ill at ease as
they watched his gigantic form pass through
the crowded saloons. There was an ominous
firmness about the imperial mouth, it was said,
and a dangerous sparkle in the imperial eye.
The emperor was known to have much self-
control, but there were signs of suppressed anger
under his placidity of aspect which courtiers
could read.

The emperor and empress did not stay long.
When they departed, the masks were replaced,
the music struck up with fresh spirit, and the
aristocracy of Russia forgot the darkling glance
of their master's eye. The dance went
pleasantly on.

"M. Charles, will you do me a favour?"

It was Sophie who spoke, and her voice
quivered in a manner inexplicable to me,
considering how ordinary were her words. She was
in the rich Circassian dress of blue and silver she
had chosen; but she would not have known me,
in an ordinary domino of crimson silk, but for my
face being exposed, through my not having
replaced my mask. She was clinging to the arm
of a boyish figure in Louis the Fourteenth attire:
her brother, as I guessed.

"M. Charles, will you do me a favour?"

It was not very difficult to grant. She merely
wanted me to affix to the breast of my domino,
a certain yellow rosette, a shoulder-knot of
yellow ribbon with two fluttering ends—that
was all. Hurriedly she thanked me for my
consent, and insisted on pinning the knot to my
domino with her own hands, though her slender
fingers shook so much that they could hardly
perform the task. It was a whim of hers, she
said, a trick to "mystify" some one, and O, it
was so kind of me to humour her, and would I
please to wear it till after supper-time, and
to be masked! Before I could ask her for a
dance she was gone, lost in the mazes of the
crowd.

"Hist! come nearer, the game's up!" said a
man's voice, thick and husky with emotion, at
my ear. I started. A tall man in a dark
domino was at my elbow.

"It's all over," said the stranger, in his
guttural French, spoken with a German accent;
"some one has betrayed us. The troops are
under arms, and the soldiers we counted on are
disarmed and confined to barracks. Rest assured
that the emperor knows all. Gliska——"

"Monsieur, you mistake," exclaimed I, and
the man shrank away. Scarcely had I time to
debate in my own mind the purport of what I
had heard, when two or three masked persons
came hastily forward, the foremost pointing me
out to the others.

"That is he. I know him by the ribbon."

There was a pause, and a shuffling and whispering.
I bethought me of the mystification Sophie
had spoken of. Were these the friends at whose
expense some harmless trick was to be played?
I had little time to think, for one of the
new comers passed his arm familiarly through
mine.

"Come quietly, monsieur, to avoid scandal."

By this time my other arm had been grasped
by another of the group. I made some jocular
observation, in French, on the peremptory
nature of the summons, fully persuaded that the
whole was a masquerade frolic. The intruder
spoke again, more sternly:

"You carry it off well, sir. But your
enterprises are unfortunate. You must come with
us, in the emperor's name, or I swear to shoot
you where you stand. Come on!"

I was pushed, or dragged, through a side-door,
down a passage, and into the hall of the
embassy. It was full of soldiery and gendarmes.
In a moment a cloak was thrown over my
head, my wrists were chained together, and
I was hustled out into the snow, and thrust
into a sledge. There was a shout, a trampling
and clashing, and I felt the jerk of the start.
The sledge was going off at a rapid pace, in
spite of the softness of the snow. Half