Day after day there come to them, in their hiding-place, rumors, now of the murder of the Czar, now of strife and difference among his subjects over who shall be successor, and, finally, of an invasion by the neighboring monarchs, who, seeing the people at war among themselves, would profit by this opportunity to gain possession of the Empire. “Now is your time!” says the personage in black to Rudolph, and he leads him into the midst of the battles, and teaches him so well the art of warfare, that from the ranks he soon rises to be Field-Marshal. Then, the personage in black always secretly counseling, Rudolph (always blindly obedient, he knows not why), following closely his instructions, defeats the invading armies in every battle, drives them out of the Empire, pursues them into their own provinces, and returns triumphant; and the people greet him with loud rejoicing, and lead him to the great throne-room, and robe him in the ermine-lined robe, and crown him with the jeweled crown, and shout till the echoes ring—“Hail, Rudolph, the Czar!” and, “Long live Rudolph, the Czar!” And again there are music and dancing; and it is Rudolph, now, who is seated in state above the glittering throng, and all who approach him bow low and address him reverently—excepting one—a tall, gaunt personage, with muffled face, and piercing eyes, and long, black mantle, who steals up behind him and whispers, “Does Rudolph enjoy being Czar?” And Rudolph, remembering all, neither clasps his hands nor smiles.