“’Twere well, Nadia, to give me a list of these forbidden vocables.” “I don’t know them all. However, you mustn’t use the word ‘revolution.’” Wilfrid began now to understand why the officials of Kowno had confiscated from his small travelling library a book bearing the title of “The Revolution of the Heavenly Bodies.” Evidently it was regarded as a dangerous political work! “Anything more?” “Well, ‘snub’ is forbidden.” “Heavens! what treason lurks in that simple word?” “It will be taken as a reflection on the Czar, whose nose has a skyward tendency.” “Anything more?” “Beware of the word ‘bald.’” “Ah!” “Because if the Czar were to swear by the hair of his head the oath would not be binding. Do you know he once had a soldier knouted to death for speaking of him as the ‘baldhead?’” To the truth of Nadia’s remarks history can bear witness. The last of them was not very encouraging to Wilfrid, for if the Czar could put a man to death far an offence so slight, he would surely do the like with one who had defeated his envoy at Berlin. And Wilfrid’s coming to St Petersburg would quickly become known to Baranoff’s underlings, since it was required of every stranger that he should report himself at the Police Bureau. Was it likely, then, that Count Baranoff would neglect the opportunity of exposing him to the vengeance of the Czar? But though Wilfrid began to realize more vividly than before the dangerous character of his enterprise, he was still resolute to go on with it, trusting that as he had emerged triumphantly from previous perils, so, too, he would from this. He sought to turn the conversation from politics by making inquiries as to the other guests in the house. The innkeeper, with a shake of his head, gave it as his opinion that there was something mysterious about them, since one and all had declined to disclose their names, a statement that did but serve to stimulate Wilfrid’s curiosity. “To-day about noon,” said Boris, proceeding to tell all he knew, “there drove up to the inn door a troika containing four persons, two equerries attired in blue and silver livery, and two women, who——” “Who,” interposed Nadia, “from their dress might have been taken for grand-duchesses, but who proved in the end to be only ladies’ maids.” “The four had been sent on to prepare for the coming of their mistress, a boyarine, so they said, of the highest rank. They wished to engage the whole inn for the night. They insisted that the time of their lady’s sleep must be free from the slightest noise, to ensure which they stipulated that I must exclude all other visitors, and to this I agreed, as they promised to pay well. They then went the round of the inn, selecting such rooms as they deemed suitable.” “And the airs and graces of the maids!” said Nadia. “They strutted about with their noses held high. Nothing was good enough for them.” “They selected the Tapestried Chamber as the bedroom of their lady,” continued Boris.