I see a huge building with a narrow door in its front wall; the door is open, and a dismal darkness stretches beyond. Before the high threshold stands a girl—a Russian girl. Frost breathes out of the impenetrable darkness, and with the icy draught from the depths of the building there comes forth a slow and hollow voice: “Oh, thou who art wanting to cross this threshold, dost thou know what awaits thee?” “I know it,” answers the girl. “Cold, hunger, hatred, derision, contempt, insults, a fearful death even.” “I know it.” “Complete isolation and separation from all?” “I know it. I am ready. I will bear all sorrows and miseries.” “Not only if inflicted by enemies, but when done by kindred and friends?” “Yes, even when done by them.” “Well, are you ready for self-sacrifice?” “Yes!” “For anonymous self-sacrifice? You shall die, and nobody shall know even whose memory is to be honored?” “I want neither gratitude nor pity. I want no name.” “Are you ready for a crime?” The girl bent her head. “I am ready—even for a crime.” The voice paused awhile before renewing its interrogatories. Then again: “Dost thou know,” it said at last, “that thou mayest lose thy faith in what thou now believest; that thou mayest feel that thou hast been mistaken and hast lost thy young life in vain?” “I know that also, and nevertheless I will enter!” “Enter, then!” The girl crossed the threshold, and a heavy curtain fell behind her. “A fool!” gnashed some one outside. “A saint!” answered a voice from somewhere. With such material it was not difficult to build up the tragedy of 1881. Before the day of the Czar’s death came, there had been desperate attempts upon his life. Prince Krapotkin, a relative of the Nihilist of the same name, was murdered in February, 1879, and following this deed the terrorists applied themselves resolutely to the removal of the Emperor. [Illustration: EXCAVATED DYNAMITE MINE IN MOSCOW.] For instance, in November, 1879, was the mine laid at Moscow. It was intended to blow up the railway train upon which the Czar was to enter the city, and for this purpose Solovieff and his comrades laid three dynamite mines under the tracks. Hartmann, who subsequently figured in the assassination, was one of the leaders, and here, too, was Sophie Peroosky, another of the regicides. They hired a house near the railway tracks and tunneled under the road amidst incredible difficulties and always in the most imminent danger. One hundred and twenty pounds of dynamite was in position, but the Czar passed by in a common train before the imperial one on which he was expected, and his life was saved. On February 5, 1880, the mine under the Winter Palace was exploded; eleven persons were killed, but again the Czar escaped.