There was less cheering now. Men began to stare suspiciously at one another. But what each thought he kept to himself, mindful of the Muscovite saying, “If three persons be seen conversing, one of them is a spy.” How many spies must there be, then, in a crowd so vast! In Russia the wise man is the silent man. Wilfrid’s remote situation had prevented him from hearing the announcement made by Count Pahlen, but he quickly became apprised of it by the thunderous shouts of “Hourra, Alexander! Hourra, the new Czar!” “Paul dead!” he exclaimed, turning to the Baroness. “So this is the secret you have been keeping from me? When did he die?” “Late last night, suddenly of apoplexy, so Benningsen says. We shall see a full account of it in to-day’s _Journal de Petersbourg_.” Wilfrid, aided by the lorgnette, took a long and critical survey of the new Emperor. He beheld a man as different in appearance from his father Paul as the day is from the night. Alexander exhibited in his person all the beauty of the Romanoff family. His figure, over six feet in height, was well proportioned and graceful in movement; his hair, light brown in colour, with a tendency to curl. His face was singularly handsome; he had eyes of a dark blue, a profile purely Grecian, and a complexion as clear and almost as colourless as marble. In short, it was no wonder that all the ladies in St. Petersburg were in love with him, for, externally, he was just the sort of man to captivate a woman’s imagination. To add to his attractiveness the graces of his mind were, according to Pauline, far superior to those of his person. His conversation was lively and charming. In scholarship he far surpassed his equals in age; indeed, his grandmother Catharine had kept him to his studies so closely as somewhat to impair his eyesight. Wilfrid listened with some indifference as Pauline ran over the list of the Czar’s accomplishments. Truth to tell, Wilfrid felt a latent spirit of antagonism to the new ruler, finding—somewhat absurdly it must be confessed—a ground of complaint in the very fact that he should owe his recovered freedom to the action of this Czar, for the power to set free implies likewise the power to imprison. That the liberty of an Englishman and a Courtenay should depend upon the irresponsible will of an autocrat of twenty-three was galling to his high spirit. That young man, without consulting either judge or jury, could banish Wilfrid from his dominions, and, if he chose, could order Pauline to receive the knout. There was nothing in Russia to stop him. The wealth, the liberty, the lives of sixty millions were at his absolute disposal. When Pauline went on to speak of Alexander’s swordsmanship, and of how, in that art, he excelled every officer in his army, Wilfrid became more than ever critical and depreciatory. Empire might belong to the Romanoffs, but when it came to a question of swordsmanship, let them not presume too much.