“Another deception, Herr Schulze,” replied Beck. “The apostate Emperor Julian, fifteen hundred years ago, adopted this very plan of exterminating Catholics. He established infidel instead of Christian schools; but the Emperor Julian perished, together with his empire, while the Catholic Church still exists, and is the terror of her enemies.” “We have heard enough!” exclaimed the governor. “We will not deny the assertion of our learned friend. The Catholics in the new German Empire can suffer and pray, and look for assistance from above, until they say their dying prayer, as they do in Poland.” From the eyes of the professor there shone a brilliant ray of light. “You are mistaken, Governor Rasumowski,” said he; “not Catholic Poland, but the Russian Empire, is saying its dying prayer.” If lightning had come down from heaven, it would not have made a greater impression upon the Russian when he heard Beck’s remark. “You seem astonished, governor,” said the professor. “Are you really ignorant of what a volcano the Russian Empire is standing upon? I have made diligent inquiries upon the subject, and know something of the interior dissensions that prevail in Russia. The present emperor is also aware of it; for his father, when dying, admonished him, saying: ‘Soucha (that is, Alexander), take care, lest thou become the Louis XVI. of Russia!’ Excuse my candor, and permit me to wish you good-morning, as I intend to accompany my friend to the city.” The two young men walked through the garden, followed by the angry looks of the Prussian and the Russian. Severe weather prevailed for some days. Excursions into the country were out of the question. Schulze visited the public institutions of the city, which were managed according to the Russian system. One day, Von Sempach found the professor busily writing in his room. “Are you taking notes, Edward?” “I am collecting important Russian items to send to Bolanden, that he may use them for the good of the German people, and for the benefit of other nations, who do not desire to be governed according to the Russian mode.” “I protest against it,” replied Von Sempach. “I have no desire to figure in a novel.” “Do not excite yourself, my dear Adolph! Bolanden will change our names, and perhaps call the gentleman from Berlin _Schulze_. How is Alexandra?” The young man sighed heavily, and seemed greatly distressed. “I wish that I had never known her!” said he; “for I can tell you, in confidence, that a deformed soul dwells in her beautiful body. Her pride is insufferable, her want of feeling repulsive; in fact, she is utterly devoid of those amiable qualities of heart and mind which a woman must possess in order to make a happy home.”