“Help!” the Czar uttered in a faint voice.
Somebody handed him a handkerchief, which he put to his face, muttering “Cold, cold.” Several of the marines who had saluted him a few minutes ago and two guardsmen placed him on Colonel Dvorzhitzky’s sleigh.
When Grand Duke Michaïl appeared on the scene he found his brother rapidly sinking.
“Sasha,[C] do you hear me?” he asked him, with tears in his eyes.
The bystanders, who had never before heard their Czar addressed in the form of affectionate familiarity, were thrilled with a feeling of heart-tearing pity and of the most fervent devotion. Most of them had sobs in their throats.
“Yes,” the Czar answered faintly.
“How do you feel, Sasha?”
“To the Palace—quick,” the Czar whispered. And upon hearing somebody’s suggestion that he be taken to the nearest house for immediate relief, he uttered:
“Bear me to the palace—there—die——.”