"At about eight o'clock in the morning the Prince grew more restless. He constantly asked to be moved from one side to the other, now putting his arms under his head, now embracing me feverishly and stifling a cry or a groan. "A telegram arrived, saying that the young hero's parents were on the way to him and would be with him at five o'clock. At midday the doctors examined the patient again and found the pulse good, and the poisoning not advancing. There was still hope. At about four o'clock, however, a change for the worse suddenly set in. The breathing became more frequent and the pulse weaker. There were signs of sepsis and delirium. The train by which the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess were arriving was two hours late. In the meanwhile the patient's strength was failing minute by minute and it became necessary to recur to the aid of injections to stimulate the heart's action. His lips were constantly moistened with champagne, and in order to hide from the Prince the hopelessness of his condition, we filled our glasses and told him that we were all drinking with him to his speedy recovery. It was horrible beyond words, and never in my life shall I forget those few sips of champagne in the presence of the dying Prince! "Clear consciousness alternated with delirium. {263} At seven o'clock he suddenly threw his poor little thin arms round my neck and whispered, 'Like this.... Like this ... together ... to meet them.' I thought at first that he was wandering, but no! He was alluding to the arrival of his parents. At last they came. For one moment he recognised them. The Grand Duke had brought his dying son the Cross of St. George from his Imperial uncle. "'The little white cross! ... The little white cross! ...' whispered Prince Oleg, and he bent forward slightly and kissed the shining enamel. We pinned the Cross to his shirt. Presently the patient began to gasp for air, and it was clear that the end was near. Those awful moments of silent waiting, those last short breaths ... how terrible is the mystery of death. At 8.20 the young life closed...." A deep and real love breathed in all his life, doubly touching through the purity and transparency of the innocent heart in which it throbbed. Perhaps his soul, looking down from Paradise, can see the tear-dimmed eyes of many Russians gazing sadly up to Heaven's gates through which the beloved young hero has passed. Russia is loyal to her sons. She will never forget them. {264} CHAPTER XVIII BULGARIA'S DEFECTION AND PRISONERS OF WAR Russia Blamed for the Balkans Muddle--Bulgaria's Treachery--Gen. Grant on the Russians and Constantinople--Bulgaria's Dissatisfaction--The Reign of the Fox--The Treatment of Prisoners of War--The German Method--The Allies' Failure--Lack of Organisation--Insidious German Propagandism--Britain and Her Prisoners in Germany