“There have been three attempts; the first two in Moscow.  The first happened very simply.  The general knew he had been condemned to death.  They had delivered to him at the palace in the afternoon the revoluntionary poster which proclaimed his intended fate to the whole city and country.  So Feodor, who was just about to ride into the city, dismissed his escort.  He ordered horses put to a sleigh.  I trembled and asked what he was going to do.  He said he was going to drive quietly through all parts of the city, in order to show the Muscovites that a governor appointed according to law by the Little Father and who had in his conscience only the sense that he had done his full duty was not to be intimidated.  It was nearly four o’clock, toward the end of a winter day that had been clear and bright, but very cold.  I wrapped myself in my furs and took my seat beside him, and he said, ’This is fine, Matrena; this will have a great effect on these imbeciles.’  So we started.  At first we drove along the Naberjnaia.  The sleigh glided like the wind.  The general hit the driver a heavy blow in the back, crying, ‘Slower, fool; they will think we are afraid,’ and so the horses were almost walking when, passing behind the Church of Protection and intercession, we reached the Place Rouge.  Until then the few passers-by had looked at us, and as they recognized him, hurried along to keep him in view.  At the Place Rouge there was only a little knot of women kneeling before the Virgin.  As soon as these women saw us and recognized the equipage of the Governor, they dispersed like a flock of crows, with frightened cries.  Feodor laughed so hard that as we passed under the vault of the Virgin his laugh seemed to shake the stones.  I felt reassured, monsieur.  Our promenade continued without any remarkable incident.  The city was almost deserted.  Everything lay prostrated under the awful blow of that battle in the street.  Feodor said, ’Ah, they give me a wide berth; they do not know how much I love them,” and all through that promenade he said many more charming and delicate things to me.

“As we were talking pleasantly under our furs we came to la Place Koudrinsky, la rue Koudrinsky, to be exact.  It was just four o’clock, and a light mist had commenced to mix with the sifting snow, and the houses to right and left were visible only as masses of shadow.  We glided over the snow like a boat along the river in foggy calm.  Then, suddenly, we heard piercing cries and saw shadows of soldiers rushing around, with movements that looked larger than human through the mist; their short whips looked enormous as they knocked some other shadows that we saw down like logs.  The general stopped the sleigh and got out to see what was going on.  I got out with him.  They were soldiers of the famous Semenowsky regiment, who had two prisoners, a young man and a child.  The child was being beaten on the nape of the neck.  It writhed on