After an hour's walking the Czar and his attendant reached the classic ruins, now the monastery. He was wet through with perspiration from the exertion of the long climb on a hot autumn day; still overheated, he passed through the subterranean passages, visited the caves at one time appropriated to youths destined for sacrifice, and those secret hiding-places cut out of the rock whence Orestes had formerly stolen the golden statue of Artemis. After which he visited the chapel and remained some time in prayer. On leaving the monastery he sent to seek his guide, but he was nowhere to be found. No one had noticed when he left them. The monks themselves conducted the Czar through the woods on the way to "the ladder," where his horse and horsemen awaited him. Thus the Czar avoided passing the yew-tree where Jakuskin lay in wait for him. That same day the Czar was forced to confess to his physician that he was feeling a strange languor in all his limbs, accompanied by attacks of shivering. But he would not be persuaded to take any remedies, saying it would pass off of itself, and continued his journey. He visited the ancient Akhtia, which now bears the high-sounding name of Sebastopol, was present at the launch of a man-of-war, and inspected the Pontus fleet. Despite the recurrence of fever, he was untiringly occupied throughout the day; late in the evening he again went into the church to pray. When Jakuskin took the despatch from the dying messenger and placed it in his bosom the thought flashed through his mind that it might carry infection; but he dismissed it with: "Bah! How ridiculous to fear a scrap of folded paper!" And yet Jakuskin would have done himself and his friends better service had he taken to his bosom one of the horned serpents which lie in wait for the traveller by the side of ditches, or in coach-tracks, rather than that piece of paper. He thought to himself, "Let the despatch contain what it may, as long as I deliver it to the man for whom it is intended!" The story of the despatch was this: