“Consider, Sire!” returned Baranoff with an air of lofty disinterestedness. “Had I so acted, your life as well as the lives of the other signatories, would have been forfeited. I shrank from filling the city with the noblest blood of the State. And yet, to throw in my lot with your party would have been ingratitude to my Imperial master. Hence I took the only course consistent with honour. I remained neutral.” “Among the Athenians,” remarked Pahlen, “he who remained neutral received punishment.” “The usage of an ancient heathen city is no precedent for a modern Christian state,” was the reply, a reply that drew a secret curse from Pahlen, who saw that the Czar was being won over by Baranoff’s tongue. “Yes, Sire, the triumph of either side being distasteful to me, I held aloof from both. Happily, the course of nature has prevented you from lifting an unfilial hand against your sire. Who is so dull as not to see the hand of Providence in this sudden demise of his Majesty?” While speaking, Baranoff cast at the ministers a covert smile, that caused Pahlen to murmur in Benningsen’s ear:— “This fellow suspects.” “What matters, so long as the Czar condones.” Baranoff was an accomplished hypocrite. None who saw his bearing in the presence of Alexander would have suspected that only two hours before he had set off from the Citadel, intent on destroying the very Prince whose favour he was now so anxious to win. Entirely deceived by Baranoff’s air of sincerity, Alexander was more than half disposed to retain him among his ministers, though well aware how displeasing this would be to the rest. Baranoff, growing more elated as he beheld the disconcerted looks of the ministers, now ventured upon a very bold stroke indeed. “How faithfully I have watched over, not only Paul’s interests, but your own, I can clearly show, if your Majesty will permit me to speak with you only.” A murmur of protest arose from the Ministry. “Let what you have to say be said openly,” remarked Pahlen. “The matter is for the Czar’s ear only,” retorted Baranoff, with an air of dignity. “It is for his Majesty to disclose it afterwards if he pleases. I trust your Majesty will grant me this favour, the last perhaps that I may ask.” There was in Baranoff’s manner something that convinced the Czar that he _had_ an important matter to communicate, that were better heard secretly, too. “We will humour you,” said Alexander, who proceeded to make good his word by calling upon the rest of the Ministry to retire to the ante-chamber. “What tale hath that knave to tell?” muttered Pahlen. “His subtle tongue will be our undoing. He’ll keep his place, and we shall see a continuance of the war.” In which forecast the chancellor was destined to prove a true prophet. “Now, Count,” said Alexander, as soon as the door had closed, “we are alone. What is it you would say?” “The matter is one that concerns your honour, Sire. Hence my reason for this secrecy.” “Be brief.”