Around Prince Galitzin, Alexander Tourgenieff, Princess Metchersky, and others of a similar character, there gathered a very different circle--earnest students of Scripture, simple evangelical Christians, with whom faith and love were the fulfilling of the law, and forms occupied a very subordinate place. These were in constant communication with the leaders of the evangelical movement in other countries, and especially with the agents of the Bible Society. They knew themselves the objects of suspicion and aversion, not only to the Romanizing party, but also to the zealous members of the Greek Church, the men of the old school, who were strongly attached to things as they were, and jealous of all reform. But they were strengthened by the knowledge that the heart of the Emperor was with them, though his sense of justice made him endeavour to hold the balance evenly between the contending parties, and his natural attachment to the Church of which he was the head deterred him from any course that he thought likely to endanger its stability or weaken its influence. Ivan from the first, and eventually Clémence also, gave a decided preference to the society of Galitzin and his friends; although they occasionally frequented the Sardinian Embassy, and Clémence found a warm personal friend in the Countess Tolstoi. The Christmas festivities drew on, and Clémence and Ivan were amongst the guests invited to the grand ball and supper given at the Winter Palace to celebrate the Emperor’s birthday. Ivan was extremely anxious that Clémence should be present at one of these magnificent entertainments, which had all the brilliancy imperial wealth and splendour could give, with the addition of what does not always accompany them--the charm of exquisite taste and “sovereign elegance.” He returned from the levee, where he had spent most of the day, in high spirits and full of pleasurable anticipation. But his surprise was great to find Clémence, still in her usual dress, bending with a troubled face over the cot in which their little Rosebud lay. “Surely there is nothing wrong with our darling?” he said, stooping tenderly over the sleeping babe. “It cannot be. She was so bright and full of life when I left you this morning.” “There is something wrong,” Clémence whispered, looking up, but scarcely stirring, for the little hand of the sleeping child had closed about her mother’s finger. “I cannot but be anxious, since that terrible attack of croup she had when the cold weather began. Listen!--her breathing is still quick, though quieter now than an hour ago. But I must be here to do what is wanted--and to do it at once. I _cannot_ go with you, Ivan,” she said pleadingly. Ivan was greatly disappointed, but he would not combat his wife’s resolve. After a pause, he said gently, “It shall be as you like, dearest. I see little Rosebud is stronger than the Czar.”