“Massacre!” was his only word of command, and then the blood-bath began. He himself stood at the window, and when any one tried to jump out, the Czar struck off his head. “Alles tot!” he exclaimed in German, when it was all over. Then he went his way in the direction of the Peter-Paul Fortress. He was received by the Commandant, and had himself conducted to Prince Alexis, his only surviving and eldest son, on whom he had built his hope and Russia’s destiny. With the key in his hand, he remained standing before the cell, made the sign of the cross and prayed half-aloud:--“O Eternal God of armies, Lord of Hosts, who hath put the sword into the hands of rulers that they may guide and protect, reward and punish, enlighten thy poor servant’s understanding that he may deal righteously. Thou hast demanded from Abraham his son, and he obeyed. Thou hast crucified Thine own Son in order to redeem mankind. Take my sacrifice, O Terrible One, if Thou requirest it. Yet not my will be done, but Thine. May this cup pass if it be Thy will. Amen! in the name of Christ, Amen!” He entered the cell, and remained there an hour. When he came out again, he looked as though he had been weeping; but he said nothing, handed the key to the Commandant, and departed. There are many varying rumours regarding what passed that evening between father and son. But one thing is certain: Alexis was condemned to death by a hundred and twenty-seven judges, and the verdict was entered on the State records. But the Crown Prince died before the execution of the sentence. * * * * * The same evening, about eight o’clock, the Czar entered his country-house and sought Katherine. “The old has passed away,” he said. “Now we will begin the new--you and I and our children.” The Czarina asked no questions, for she understood. But the Czar was so tired and exhausted, that she feared lest he should have one of the attacks which she knew so well. And the only way of quieting him was the old customary one. She sat down in the corner of the sofa; he laid down resting his head on her capacious bosom; then she stroked his hair till he fell asleep. But she had to sit for three hours without moving. A giant child on a giant bosom, the great champion of the Lord lay there, his face looked small, his high brow was hidden by his long hair; his mouth was open, and he snored like a little child asleep. When at last he awoke, he looked up at first astonished, to find himself where he was. Then he smiled, but did not say Thank you, and did not fondle her. “Now we will have something to eat,” was the first thing he said. “Then something to drink, and then a great firework. I will light it myself down on the shore. But Jaen Scheerborck must be present.” “You have thrown him out.” “Have I? He was drunk, the fellow. Send for him at once.” “You are so strange, Peter! Never the same for two minutes together.”