The poor child was already without provisions or fuel of any description, for everything in the inundated cellar and dining-room was spoiled by water. Wrapped in her furs, she sat at the window, breathing upon it to make a clear space, and gazing with dismay at the huge blocks of ice floating unimpeded over the wrecked fence. Some, with their sharp edges, cut through the great trees opposing them as with a saw; others were tossed lengthwise against their barks, those following hurled upon them, until suddenly a great silver birch would go down with a crash. Once the resistance formed by the trees swept down, the house must follow. A pencil and paper lay prepared upon her writing-table, a carrier-dove in its cage beside it. They had been brought her by the Czar, that she might let him know when danger was imminent. She was waiting to send off her message until the extreme moment, for she knew the grave difficulties which surrounded his coming to her rescue. Thus her joy may be imagined on seeing Bethsaba appear on the balcony. Seizing her pencil, Sophie wrote, with trembling fingers, "I am saved and in good hands; have no further anxiety for me!" Then tying her note on to the carrier-dove's wing, she set it loose. It flew up high in the air, then disappeared in the direction of the Winter Palace. She did not ask where they were taking her, but followed Bethsaba in good faith. CHAPTER XXV GOG AND MAGOG The Czar had not undressed at all that night; but, tired out, had thrown himself upon his couch, which had no covering but a bear-skin. Before sunrise he was up, and, without making a change of dress, went to the window. It was frosted over; he had to open it to see out. He quickly closed it again. The sight was terrible! In feverish excitement he threw on his cloak and hurried out. In the anteroom his physician, Sir James Wylie, was waiting, who at once accosted him with-- "Your Majesty may not go out to-day!" "I may not? Who commands me?" "I merely _prescribe_, sire--a right which physicians may exercise towards princes." "But there is nothing the matter with me." "But there may be. Your health is endangered." "That rests in the hands of God." And he passed on. In the audience-chamber he found Araktseieff. "Your Majesty _cannot_ go out to-day." "So you, too, order me, as well as the physician." "Your Majesty's life is in danger." "Not for the first time. He who protected me yesterday will not fail me to-day. Be a Christian, and do not treat me like a child who lets himself be frightened by old women's tales. Remain at your post; I go to mine." Araktseieff knew the Czar, and that opposition only made him more obstinate; so stood deferentially aside as the Czar strode past him.