This, it is true, is a prosaic ending; but we may not observe silence upon it, for it is true to history, and, moreover, no exceptional case. How many a descendant of princely families tans and works the skins of that ermine once worn by his ancestors! The eldest of the three brothers Turgenieff, Michael, who presided at that memorable "green-book" conference, was, although absent in a foreign country at the time of the insurrection, condemned to death, and his property confiscated. The news of this sentence broke the heart of his younger brother Sergius. His other brother, Alexander, followed the condemned man into exile and shared his own fortune with him. Such hearts as these, too, the fatherland of ice can bring forth! THE ROMANCE OF CONSTANTINE Krizsanowski was perfectly right when he maintained that the Poles had no reason to unite their fate with any schemes of Russian aspirants after freedom. The Polish people needed no explanation of the meaning of "Constitution." But this, too, is true--that to a Pole the wife of Constantine was wellnigh the equivalent. She was their Providence--turning evil into good, wrath into gentleness, remitting punishments--a Providence bringing blessings in its train. The famous _Nie pozwolim_! ("I will not have it!") had certainly never so often swayed the wills of the kings of Poland as had the gentle "I should so like it" the will of the Viceroy. And when time and opportunity were ripe, and the necessary strength had been attained, the whole nation rose in its might--five months after the flight of the French king, Charles X. One night the Polish youths broke open the gates of Belvedere and pressed, armed to a man, to the Grand Duke's bedchamber. But first they had to break into Johanna's room. She started from sleep as the dagger was already pointed at her heart. "Keep silence! Not a sound!" "What!" she cried, "a Pole turning assassin! Infamous!" And, springing from the other side of her bed, she rushed into her husband's room, not even feeling the dagger-thrust in her back. Hastily bolting the tapestried door through which she had passed, she flew to the heavily sleeping Viceroy. "Wake! we are surprised!" "What! Assassins?" exclaimed the Viceroy, seizing his weapons. "Not assassins," returned his wife, proudly concealing her indignation, "but heroes of liberty! The Polish people have risen against you. Fly!" "What! The Polish people risen? And you, a daughter of Poland, not siding with your own people? You protecting me? Is it a miracle?" "Husband, I love you! I will save you!" And with these words, pressing a spring in a corner of the room, she disclosed the secret passage by which the veteran Krizsanowski had come to her, and of which Constantine knew nothing. "We must be quick! These stairs lead down to the garden gate."