were many qualities that were kingly and commanded my regard. That he regretted his occasional paroxysms of fury, I did not doubt. It was not even difficult to understand his treatment of the Czarina Eudoxia. She belonged to the old régime; an ignorant woman, narrow, bigoted, and jealous, clashing with the temperament of her husband at every point, unable to comprehend his intellect, hating his reforms, without sympathy for his ambitions; tried, no doubt, beyond endurance by the czar’s intrigue with Anna Mons, but, in any case, totally unfit to hold his esteem. Unhappily, it was said that the Czarevitch Alexis, then a lad of thirteen, was like his mother in disposition and in tastes; already the wiseacres at court looked forward to the day when there would be a breach between father and son. It was this probability and the delicate constitution of Alexis which made Peter’s possible marriage an event of keen interest to the opposing parties and of vital importance to Mentchikof, who was determined to keep his place beside the czar. When I left the Kremlin and turned my steps toward my lodgings, my mind was still full of these matters. France and the Grand Alliance, Russia and Charles XII. filled my thoughts, and for the time I had forgotten M. de Lambert and his love affair. Although my path took me in the direction of the bridge, I walked toward it still too absorbed to remember the tryst. It was now quite dark, and a mist hung over the frozen river; the ground was white with snow and it was beginning to sleet. It seemed unusually still, so that I heard the scream of a raven disturbed in his rest. Suddenly there was a cry and a pistol-shot. Remembering M. de Lambert, I dashed down the slope to the bridge. As I did so, I ran against a man who was rushing up the bank, and, obeying an instinct, I caught him in my arms, pinioning his; but the ground was slippery and he threw himself on me, pushing me sideways on the slope until I lost my footing and went down on one knee. Having me at a disadvantage, he wrenched himself free, and, dealing a blow that stretched me on the ice, dashed off in the darkness just as another man came up from the bridge, and, seeing me upon my back, fell on me with a cry of fury. “You villain!” he exclaimed, “I have you now!” It was Pierrot. “Help me up, you knave!” I said, thrusting his hands from my throat; “you will choke me here in the snow.” He uttered an ejaculation and stood transfixed with amazement. “I beg your pardon a thousand times, M. le Maréchal,” he said, after a moment, recovering sufficiently to help me to my feet; “but where is the other?” “Gone while you were belaboring me,” I replied dryly. “What has happened?” “M. de Lambert is wounded,” he said, “I know not how badly. It was, as you supposed, a trap; mademoiselle was not here.” I did not wait to hear more, being anxious for my friend. “Where is he?” I exclaimed.