I went back into my bedroom and dressed again, looking regretfully at my warm bed, in which only a few minutes earlier I had been pitying the victims of whom now I was to be one. When I got outside I was almost blinded by the snow, driven by a wind which it was hard to stand against. It seemed more than doubtful whether I should be able to reach the Embassy, which was about half a mile off. All at once, out of the unwholesome, yellow, almost lurid darkness my good angel sent a belated Isvoshtchik crawling along, visible only a few yards off. I hailed him, hardly hoping that he would come to my call; however, the promise of a good _pourboire_ tempted him, and we crept miserably through the storm to the Embassy. I never was out in so weird a night. As I left the little sleigh I shook off many pounds’ weight of snow from fur cap and coat. I found Lord Napier walking about his room in his dressing-gown, evidently rather uneasy; he seemed to have a sort of forewarning of something out of the common and disagreeable. A telegraphic despatch in cypher had come in, and he wished to have it deciphered immediately. It was truly a momentous document—nothing less than an instruction to call upon Prince Gortchakoff at once and to let him know that England would not interfere on behalf of Denmark. Lord Napier was eagerly watching over my shoulder as one by one the fateful words revealed themselves, and when the telegram was fully before us we looked at one another in dismay. “But,” said my chief, “only yesterday when I saw the Prince I told him that I believed that there was no change in the policy of Her Majesty’s Government, and now I have to give him this message. It is very embarrassing! Where is the Prince? Do you know?” “He is at Tsarskoe Selo,” I answered. “Well, I shall have to go out by the first train to-morrow morning.” It was a very awkward moment for Lord Napier and he felt the falseness of the position acutely, but he was so truly attached to Lord Russell personally that he never would say a word against him. The next day I was in the Chancery when Lord Napier came back from Tsarskoe Selo. He beckoned me into his private room. “Well,” I asked, “what did the Prince say?” “It was not a pleasant interview,” answered my chief. “When the Prince had read the telegram he folded it up and handed it back to me, saying, ‘Alors, milord, je mets de côté la supposition que l’Angleterre fasse jamais la guerre pour une question d’honneur.’ Pretty words for an English Ambassador to listen to!”