"Has your medical skill absolutely no panacea, no remedy to preserve a precious life to us--no remedy which day by day might arrest Death hovering on the threshold, and so prolong that dear life from spring to autumn?" "Yes, there is such a remedy, sire! But it does not grow among health-giving herbs of India. In illnesses such as these the spirits of the patient are the most important factor. Sorrow, grief, and care hasten the catastrophe, while cheerfulness, an equable temperament, joy, and hope delay it. The love of life renews life." "Humph! How am I to give her joy, hope, and love of life when I have not got them myself?" A day came which brought joy to the Czar. His Governor in the Urals announced to him the discovery of new deposits of gold and platinum, with promise of abundant mining. He sent a specimen of the platinum that had been found. A truly valuable discovery! At the same time arrived a report from the Governor of Jekaterinograd, notifying the discovery in the great desert of a species of beetle which fed on the exuberant knot-grass (_poligonum_) of those parts, a useless plant and one impossible to extirpate. The beetle in question, known in the learned tongue as _Coccus polonorum_, is identical with the cochineal, and affords the most beautiful purple and pink dye. He sent the Czar, as a sample, a piece of rose-colored silk dyed with the purple of the native beetle. This was a greater treasure even than gold and platinum; it grows like a weed, gives no trouble, and will support the inhabitants of those inhospitable steppes. But the third consignment was the most interesting. The Governor of the Amurs sent from Siberia a cask of wine grown in the Amur country. This is a still greater treasure than gold or bread, for it implies a triumph--a triumph in the face of the whole world, which proclaims Siberia to be a frozen hell! See! this wine contradicts it! It is more sparkling than champagne, sweeter than Tokay--at least, one must pretend that it is. Siberia can grow wine! Henceforth every Russian must drink it. Siberian wine must supplant foreign wines for the tables of the great; it must compete with Burgundy, the Rhine, and the Hegyalji. To be exiled to Siberia will no longer count as a punishment; those in search of fruitful soil will settle there of their own free-will. Siberia can grow wine! If any one doubts the future of that country, who would argue with him now? One gives him a glass and fills it. "Try this; this is Siberian wine!" The Czar was as happy as a child! He still had one joy left.