“These are troublous times,” he said thoughtfully, “and an honest man scarcely knows to which strong arm to look for shelter. It is an evil hour to place a child on the throne. The czarina’s party is not strong enough without the adherence of the Streltsi, and that is a difficult matter. Besides, there is no leader there but Matveief, and he--they accuse him of witchcraft!” Von Gaden laughed. “It is not well to study algebra in Russia.” “No,” I said, “learning is at a discount. I marvel, monsieur, that they do not accuse you of the black arts.” “They do worse in their hearts, M. le Vicomte,” he answered gravely; “they accuse me of poisoning the late czar.” I started. The announcement, made with such composure, astonished me. For the moment I forgot the carriage and my interrupted adventure. He saw my amazement, and smiled sadly. “Not openly,” he said; “the accusations are whispered where an honest man may not refute them; but you know such whispering sent the chancellor to a remote corner of Archangel, and what may be the fate of an obscure Jewish doctor?” He looked at me with an expression of gloomy interrogation. I have often thought since that his awful fate was already casting its black shadow over his soul; that he was gifted with prescience. “Natalia is your friend, is she not?” I ventured mildly, feeling that any remark was worse than useless. “Ay,” he said at once; “the gracious czarina is my friend, but what power has she here?” His eye swept over the Kremlin, and I knew that his mind was conjuring up a thousand pictures of the dark deeds that made up its secret annals. Before he spoke again, I looked at the gate and saw a hideous little figure rushing towards us, whirling its arms above its large head, and uttering a shrill sound between a squeal and a whistle. Von Gaden, awaking from his revery, eyed the new-comer with little favor. “It is Homyak, one of the court dwarfs,” he remarked calmly, “and he is evidently badly frightened.” The little creature threw himself upon the doctor, grasping his mantle in his talon-like fingers and raising a white drawn face. “I have seen the dead!” he moaned, cowering down until he was the picture of abject terror. “I have seen the dead!” Von Gaden shook his mantle free with an impatient gesture. “You are evidently troubled with a bad conscience, Homyak,” he said cynically, “therefore your graveyard visitants are frequent!” The dwarf covered his wizened face with his hands, and rocked to and fro in an ecstasy of fear. I could not help a feeling of pity as well as disgust as I beheld him. “What was your vision this time?” the Jew asked, with relentless contempt. The dwarf stopped his exhibition of terror, and going close to the physician, tried to raise his hideous face to his interrogator’s. “It was he!” he whispered in a tone just audible to me. “He, whom you tried to save on the Red Staircase, and who lay dying that night on the stone pavement of his own courtyard!”