He did not move. Now that doubt and suspense were over, it was the turn of wrath. His cheeks slowly crimsoned, the thick gray brows drew together, and from beneath them flashed an awful fire. “So!” he burst out; “these two political criminals are my own children!” They did not speak. His figure seemed to swell with wrathful majesty. “My own children!” he ejaculated. “The Czar had faith in me. He made me military governor of St. Petersburg because he thought that I, above all others, was the one to subdue the revolt in this the heart of Russia. And now, at the head of that revolt I find my own son, my own daughter! My own children the arch-traitors!” “Not traitors, father,” said Sonya, “but patriots of a truer sort!” “Traitors, I say! As for Vladimir there, I may not be surprised. But you, Sonya, you whom I loved and cherished and trusted, of whom I was so proud--to think that you could secretly join these vile enemies of our country!” “Our country’s enemies!” Borodin repeated quietly, but with a quick flashing of his eyes. “Who are they? Those who are crushing it into darkness, or those who are striving to lift it into liberty and light?” “Silence! Nothing from you!” cried the general. “It is you that led Sonya into this. You are the sole cause of our disgrace and shame!” “Perhaps another generation will not call it shame.” The quiet answer only roused the proud old autocrat the more. “But, father,” put in Sonya quickly, “at such a time as this cannot we forget these differences----” “Forget! How forget, when to-morrow all St. Petersburg, all Russia, will know that the children of General Valenko are traitors? Can I forget this disgrace upon the name that for a thousand years has been one of Russia’s proudest?” “That disgrace,” returned Borodin steadily, “may later prove the Valenkos’ greatest honour.” His father did not heed him. “To-morrow our name will be in the mire,” he went on with mounting wrath. “To-morrow I shall be sneered at all over the land. The revolution-queller, who found the revolution sprang from his own family! How Russia will laugh!” His voice grew even more wroth, and his face darkened with accusation. “You have turned against your father--you have turned against your class--you have turned against your Czar! But one disgrace I shall not suffer. They shall never say of me that I shrank from duty because the criminals were my own children. You are guilty! You must suffer the penalty of your guilt!” He stood before them the very figure on an heroic scale of a wrathful, implacable, almighty judge. There was a moment of deep silence. Through the heavy masonry came the tones of the Cathedral clock, tolling the hour of six. “We knew the risk, and we accepted it,” said Borodin. “So we do not complain at your decision.”