The feeling of humanity is stronger than the thirst for freedom. It protects the serf when the Czar persecutes him, and protects the Czar when persecuted by the serf. "Fear not. We will protect you!" cried Zeneida's countrymen. "_Then to you I intrust my child; take care of him. If I fall, he is your future Czar._" And he threw his pale little successor, Alexander II., into the arms of the most heavily oppressed of all his subjects. He knew the hearts of men. By this action he had turned their weapons from his own bosom upon his assailants. That one Finnish battalion defended the Winter Palace from the morning to the evening against the whole revolutionary force. Nicholas, however, springing on his horse, dashed through the gates, followed by his generals. In front of the palace surged a dense mass of the lowest of the low, roaring out _The Song of the Knife_--its harvest-time had come. Riding into their very midst, Nicholas said: "What are you doing here, dear children? This is no place for you." The people looked at one another. "Eh! He is a kind man! He calls us his dear children, and tells us so kindly to go away from here. Let's go home!" And they dispersed. Outside the Admiralty he was received by some well-affected battalions. At their head he marched to the vast Czar Peter's Platz, where was the insurgents' camp. One-half of the square was occupied by them; the other half by the troops loyal to him. Betwixt the opposing armies was the colossal statue on its granite pedestal, with hands outstretched, no one knows whether to command or bless. One party of insurgents stormed the castle on the other side of the frozen Neva; the other pressed on towards the gates of the Winter Palace, Nicholas wandering, meanwhile, undecidedly up and down the great square, weighing on which cast of the die hung the fate of his imperial house and empire. He had first endeavored by every means in his power to avoid the conflict--had sent the most popular leader of the army, General Miloradovics, to parley with the insurgents and move them to submission. A ball had struck him from his horse before he could speak; it was Kakhowsky who had shot him. The heroic general died in the Czar's arms. Then he had sent the highest Church dignitary of the country, the metropolitan Seraphim, in full canonicals, to parley with his enemies. What cared they now for priests? Seizing the venerable man by his snow-white beard, they had roared in his ears: "If you are a priest, read your breviary, and don't meddle to your hurt in military matters!" The insurgents received unexpected support. The marines and half the grenadier regiments joined them. Their numbers grew and grew; the square echoed with the cry, "Long live the Constitution!" Then the Czar himself rode up to them. The rebels saw him coming. It was a temptation to them to see him ride up unattended. A cavalry officer galloped up to him, a loaded pistol in his hand.