them the stable-men and keepers, a little army, in red cloth tunics,
with wide trousers tucked into high boots, all holding their fur caps in
their hands, standing stiffly at attention, clean, honest, and not too
intelligent.

The castle of Osterno is built on the lines of many Russian country
seats, and not a few palaces in Moscow. The Royal Palace in the Kremlin
is an example. A broad entrance-hall, at the back of which a staircase
as broad stretches up to a gallery, around which the dwelling-rooms are
situated. At the head of the staircase, directly facing the
entrance-hall, high folding doors disclose the drawing-room, which is
almost a throne room. All gorgeous, lofty, spacious, as only Russian
houses are. Truly this northern empire, this great white land, is a
country in which it is good to be an emperor, a prince, a noble, but not
a poor man.

Paul passed through the ranks of his retainers, himself a head taller
than the tallest footman, a few inches broader than the sturdiest
keeper. He acknowledged the low bows by a quick nod, and passed up the
staircase. Steinmetz--in evening dress, wearing the insignia of one or
two orders which he had won in the more active days of his earlier
diplomatic life--was waiting for him at the head of the stairs.

The two men bowed gravely to each other. Steinmetz threw open the door
of the great room and stood aside. The prince passed on, and the German
followed him, each playing his part gravely, as men in high places are
called to do. When the door was closed behind them and they were alone,
there was no relaxation, no smile of covert derision. These men knew the
Russian character thoroughly. There is, be it known, no more
impressionable man on the face of God's earth. Paul and Steinmetz had