“Is that the possible climax of the drama?” I asked quickly, thinking with a sensation of despair of the lost packet. “Possible,” he answered slowly, “although difficult. I am glad that the ex-Chancellor Matveief is coming at last. But hasten, M. le Vicomte,” he added, rousing himself suddenly, “your errand is best served by speed, and I have delayed you with my own reveries.” Once in the street, I proceeded rapidly towards the quarters of the Streltsi, accompanied thither by the stragglers of the crowd that had preceded me. There was every evidence of intense excitement, and as I came nearer, I was involved in a mass of people struggling and shouting in the effort to approach the scene. It took all my strength to wedge myself into the throng, and then it was still more impossible to guide myself, and I was at the mercy of the mob, and began to regret the foolhardiness that had induced me to seek the dwarf at such a time; but it was equally impossible to retrace my steps. There could be no stronger evidence of the state of feeling among the masses than was exhibited by this crowd, ripe for any mischief and ferocious at the thought of wreaking vengeance on their superiors. It cost an effort to escape being trampled under foot, and more than one of the weaker ones went down and they passed over them, no one pausing to consider the fate of the unfortunates, for fear of sharing it. So, pushed and tossed about by these wild beasts, I found myself at last, without any wish of my own, among the spectators of the justice administered by the Streltsi. The soldiers were formed in an immense circle in an open place. In the center of this cruel ring were the executioners with the knout and rods, and one of the officers was stripped to the waist and bound, while the lashes fell with merciless force on his already bleeding back. It was a sickening sight, and the more revolting because of the evident enjoyment of the onlookers. I searched the dark faces near me for a glimmer of mercy, but found none. Only a kind of horrid pleasure gleamed in their eyes. How deep must have been the sting of their wrongs to have excited such hatred! The officer, who was Colonel Gryboyedof, stood the torture with heroic fortitude, and although the blood was running down his back, uttered no sound. The mob was intensely silent too, as if eager to catch the first moan of pain uttered by the unfortunate man. Even the executioner’s arm faltered a little, as if his task was sickening, but a shout of “harder” from the crowd, nerved it to an increased effort. I tried to release myself from the press at the front, and when Gryboyedof fell fainting, my opportunity came, there was a rush forward which somewhat relieved the pressure about me, and I began to extricate myself, and even as I did so, discovered the object of my search. Homyak had evidently seen me in the crowd, and was endeavoring to slip away unobserved. Making a strong effort, I shook myself free