And she extended her hand with a smile that on a more beautiful face would have been captivating. I made my obeisance, and departed with as good a grace as I could assume, while my heart was like lead, for I had no relish for my errand and a deep-rooted distrust of the smiling czarevna, who I fancied would walk to power over her fallen friends with the same cheerful aspect. As I left the apartment, I stumbled on the recumbent form of one of the court dwarfs, who had been lying outside the door. I was not a little disconcerted to find that it was Homyak, for whom I had conceived a dislike as strong as that felt by Von Gaden. However, a glance at his face satisfied me that he had been napping, and was in a very ill humor at being disturbed. He snarled out something about walking over a man as if he were a toad, and curled himself down again, like a huge house dog, on the door-sill, while I hurried through the anterooms, only anxious to avoid notice, and with the czarevna’s packet concealed in my bosom. When I reached the Red Staircase, I loosened my sword in the scabbard, and hastened my step as I walked across the Red Place and towards the Gate of the Redeemer. CHAPTER X. THE PACKET. I WENT directly to my own quarters and ordered Pierrot to have my horse saddled, while I put on my riding boots and loaded my pistols. I had no taste for my errand, but was determined to execute it faithfully, and with all possible speed. To my astonishment, Pierrot reappeared booted and spurred for the ride. I eyed him with anger. “Who required your attendance?” I asked sharply. An obstinate expression came over the man’s honest face. “M. le Vicomte,” he said solemnly, “the city is in a turmoil, and you may need my sword, even if you do not care for my attendance.” “Pshaw, Pierrot!” I replied, more pleasantly, “they are too busy preparing to cut each other’s throats to care to cut mine.” “I know not how that may be, monsieur,” he rejoined stubbornly; “but I do know that the serfs are all ready to rise if the Streltsi mutiny, and there is no one here to care whether our throats are cut or not, so we must even look after them ourselves.” “Well, look after yours, my good man,” I said carelessly, “and trust me to take care of my own.” Pierrot stood hesitating for a moment; I saw that he was by no means silenced, but pretended not to observe him while I fastened my belt with the pistols in it and adjusted my cloak, receiving very little assistance from him. I had turned to leave the room when he touched my sleeve. I stopped impatiently, but something in his eyes checked my anger. “What is it now, you persistent knave?” I asked, conscious that my resolution was weakening before his obstinate devotion. “M. le Vicomte,” he said gravely, “I have served you faithfully for many years; my father served yours, before me. I pray you, let me share your peril, if I may not avert it.”