“As regards the war with England. What! you do not know? Ah! I am forgetting. The story is not in the newspapers, since our editors must publish only what is pleasing. Of course, living at an Embassy, I often learn matters unknown to the outside public. Well, here’s a secret for you. Our Russian admiral, knowing himself to be no match for the hero of the Nile, has declined an engagement, and is coming fast to Cronstadt. ’Tis the old story; leaky ships, cracked cannon, and an unpaid crew, sullen to the verge of mutiny. The result of this flight is to place all the towns on the Finland Gulf at the mercy of the English guns. Nay, the very gate of the city, Cronstadt itself, is liable to bombardment. Hence, let Baranoff protest as he may, the Czar is bent on making peace. So magnificently sure were your Government that victory would crown their arms, that along with their fleet they sent an envoy with plenipotentiary power to arrange the terms of a treaty. That envoy will arrive at St. Petersburg in the course of a few days. Should peace be established, and there is little doubt that it will be, the envoy remains here in the character of British Ambassador.” “Who is this envoy?” “Lord St. Helens. What! you know him?” asked Pauline, observing Wilfrid’s peculiar smile. “My uncle.” “Your uncle?” she repeated, incredulously. “My mother’s brother. Baroness, you are indeed the bearer of good news.” The uncle in question was one who held, among other views, that the only business worthy of an English peer is the study of diplomacy; and hence he had often growled at his nephew’s taste for painting and swordsmanship. It would be pleasant now to show the old gentleman that his nephew’s swordsmanship had defeated the policy of Baranoff at Berlin, while a painting had largely contributed to the downfall of a Russian Ministry. And both these events within the space of six months! Could the most accomplished diplomatist have done more in the time? “With the coming peace,” said Pauline, “the first half of my work is accomplished: Czar and Consul fight side by side no more. I call it my work, because it _is_ mine. If you have wrecked the Czar’s Ministry, I have had the chief hand in shaping his war-policy. How? Ah! that is my secret,” she continued, with a peculiar smile. “The second and more difficult part of my task now remains—namely, to set the Czar in arms against Napoleon.” Wilfrid longed to give her a severe lecture, but refrained, convinced of its uselessness. It was clear from her words that she was still pursuing her course of working in secret against her father’s policy, an undaughterly action on her part, and one with which Wilfrid could not sympathise. “But a truce to politics!” exclaimed Pauline. “Have you received your ticket yet from Prince Sumaroff?” “I have yet to learn who that grandee is.”