The Duke of Bora sat in the chamber, for though no longer of cabinet rank he was still a member of the Diet, and he gave clear indication of the way in which he intended to vote by vacating his usual seat and taking a place next Lipski himself. Lesko Lipski, deputy for Russograd, editor of the "Kolokol," an anti-dynastic newspaper, leader of the Opposition, and author of the Secular Appropriation Bill, was, as regards appearance, the very antithesis of the typical Russ. He was slim and beardless, and dressed in the latest Parisian fashion, though his costume at that moment, owing to the playfulness of the mob without, was not quite the same as when it had first left the tailor's hands. He had black beady eyes, and his habit of constantly questioning ministers upon every topic under the sun seemed to have permanently impressed his face with an eager, hungry look. There was in the air of the chamber that nervous feeling of expectancy which always arises when the issue of a contest is problematical. On the previous evening every member of the Diet, Pole and Muscovite alike, had departed with full conviction that the Appropriation Bill would pass. The attempted assassination of the princess had given a different turn to the matter by creating a feeling of sympathy for her, a feeling which was likewise extended to her political views. To secure the triumph of a measure known to be hateful to the young princess in the first hours of her joy at escaping the assassin's bullet seemed an unchivalrous proceeding; and those of the Poles who had hitherto regarded the bill with favor now began to reconsider their attitude. The attempt on the princess's life, deplorable from one standpoint, was from another decidedly advantageous, and the ministry were hopeful that they would capture from the Opposition the minimum six votes necessary to secure the rejection of Lipski's measure. Half-an-hour before midnight Zabern rose to wind up the debate for the ministerial side. His rising was the signal for a hostile ebullition from the Muscovite members who dreaded Zabern's oratory. Not that the marshal was particularly eloquent; far from it. He had all a soldier's contempt for speech-making and for the "men of words," as he was wont to term the Czernovese deputies; a military dictatorship was more to his liking than a democratic legislature. Hence his voice was rarely heard in the chamber, but when he did speak it was always to the point, and his plain, blunt way of putting matters had often decided wavering voters, and at that moment there were a good many wavering voters. At first Zabern was unable to obtain a hearing. Every time he attempted to speak, his words were drowned in a terrible din, occasioned by the clamor of voices, the stamping of feet, and the banging of desk-lids. Though the Duke of Bora did not join in yet, as he made no attempt to check the tumult, Zabern strongly suspected him of being its secret instigator.