“Can beat every officer in his army, can he?” muttered Wilfrid. “Humph! I shall never be happy till I have crossed swords with his Czarship.” Alexander did not retire immediately upon his proclamation as Emperor, but remained upon the balcony for the space of two or three minutes, possibly with the object of giving the people time to take a good look at their new ruler. And then came a grim and significant incident, never forgotten by those who witnessed it. Just as the Archimandrite Plato was preparing to pronounce a benediction upon the people, and with this view had raised his hand, an action which produced a solemn hush over the vast assembly, there came a sound like the shivering of glass. The panes of a window in the lower part of the palace were falling outward by reason of blows dealt from within, and through the opening thus caused there leaped forth a wild figure. Alighting upon all fours in the rear of a squadron of horse, he sprang to his feet immediately, and though hands, and even sabres, were put forth to stay his progress, he contrived, by adroitly turning and twisting beneath the horses’ bellies, to elude capture and to gain the open space fronting the palace, thus becoming visible to the Czar and his staff upon the balcony. The incident was not lost upon Wilfrid, who turned his lorgnette upon this sudden apparition. Some twenty hours previously Wilfrid had seen the man’s face, but now, disfigured all over with medical plasters, it was barely recognisable. “My God! it’s Lieutenant Voronetz!” said a lady sitting next to Pauline. “And who’s Lieutenant Voronetz?” asked her companion. “The officer whose duty it is to guard Paul’s bedroom at night.” Lieutenant Voronetz it was, and a more ghastly figure was never seen. Moved by some overpowering impulse he had evidently escaped from the bed in which he had been put by the kindly, or perfunctory, care of the physician. He wore no clothing except swathings and bandages, which, criss-crossed all over trunk and limbs, suggested the idea that he had been hacked and slashed by sharp weapons from head to foot. The exertion of moving had caused his wounds to open afresh; his linen swathings had lost all their whiteness—from neck to ankle he was one red hue! There was death in his face, death within a very short time; why then, instead of remaining peacefully on his bed, had he chosen to come forth in this startling fashion? Voronetz, casting a wild glance around, had no sooner caught sight of the group upon the balcony than he raised his right arm and fiercely shook it at Alexander. With a thrill of horror Wilfrid perceived that the arm thus raised was without a hand—it had been severed at the wrist! Those who at that moment happened to be looking at the Czar whispered afterwards that he trembled and turned pale. The benediction that the Archimandrite was about to pronounce died upon his lips.