"Sire, A Fresh Dispatch."
"Is The Wire Cut Beyond That City?"
"Yes, Sire, Since Yesterday."
"Telegraph Hourly To Tomsk, General, And Keep Me Informed of All That
"Sire, It Shall Be Done," Answered general Kissoff.
These Words Were Exchanged about Two Hours After Midnight, At The Moment
When The Fete Given At The New Palace Was At The Height Of Its Splendor.
During the Whole Evening the Bands Of The Preobra-Jensky And Paulowsky
Regiments Had Played without Cessation Polkas, Mazurkas, Schottisches,
And Waltzes From Among The Choicest Of Their Repertoires. Innumerable
Couples Of Dancers Whirled through The Magnificent Saloons Of The
Palace, Which Stood At A Few Paces Only From The "Old House Of
Stones"--In Former Days The Scene Of So Many Terrible Dramas, The
Echoes Of Whose Walls Were This Night Awakened by The Gay Strains Of The