of popular clamour, and to be driven by every ebullition of public feeling, to embark on a decisive course of action.  But he is far-seeing enough to discern at the right moment a real danger, and to meet it with the whole force of his personality.  I do not, therefore, look upon the hope of gaining him for an ally as a Utopian dream, and I trust that Russian diplomacy will join with ours in bringing this alliance about.  A war with England without Germany’s support would always be a hazardous enterprise.  Of course we are prepared to embark upon such a war, alike for our friendship with Russia and for the sake of our national honour, but we could only promise ourselves a successful issue if all the continental great Powers join hands in this momentous undertaking.”

Although the fact of an offensive and defensive alliance with France in view of a war with England could not have been unknown to the majority of the assembled company, yet the reading of this despatch, which was followed with breathless attention, evidently produced a deep impression.  Its publication left no room for doubt that this war had been resolved on in the highest quarters, and although no loud manifestation of applause followed its reading, the illustrious assemblage now breathed freely, and almost all faces wore an expression of joyous satisfaction.

Only one man, with knitted brows, regarded the scene with serious disapproval.  For decades past he had been regarded as the most influential man in Russia—­as a power, in fact, who had constantly thwarted the plans of the leading statesmen and had carried his opinions through with unswerving energy.

This solitary malcontent was Pobiedonostsev, the Chief Procurator of the Holy Synod, who, despite his grey hairs, was detested only less than he was feared.

His gloomy mien and his shake of the head had not escaped the presiding Grand Duke, and the latter evidently considered it to be his duty to give this man who had enjoyed the confidence of three successive Tsars an opportunity of recording his divergent opinion.

At his summons the Chief Procurator arose, and, amid complete silence, said—­

“It cannot be my duty to deliver an opinion as to the possibility or on the prospects of an alliance with Germany, for I am as little acquainted as any here present with the intentions and plans of the German Emperor.  William II. is the greatest sphinx of our age.  He talks much, and his speeches give the impression of complete sincerity; but who can guess what is really behind them?  That he has formulated a fixed programme as his life’s work, and that he is the man to carry it out, regardless whether public opinion is on his side or not, thus much appears to me to be certain.  If the subjection of England is a part of his programme, then the hopes of the French Minister would, in fact, be no Utopia, only supposing that the Emperor William considers the present the most suitable time for disclosing to the world