"The Grand Duke will have twenty-two of 'em," says he.
"Well, then, I'm glad it's only the guns," says I, and a great big sigh of relief came up from my jealous bosom.
Then we all went on again, till I heard some one call out that we'd got to heave-to. This scared me dreadfully. I looked around. Which two of all these females did they mean to heave into the vasty deep? Not me for one. If Russia is barbarous enough to want that sort of cannibal hospitality, I'm counted out.
Shivering with fear, I drew back into the crowd, but watched things like a cat. Drifting through the fog, I saw a little vessel coming close to us, as if she had something to do with this heathen ceremony. The ladies in their waterproofs crowded to the side of the steamboat, as if they rather panted for the glory of being drowned then and there for the pleasure of the great Grand Duke.
I heard a splash, but could not see if any one had been flung over, and when I got up to look, there was a magnificent old fellow, with ribbons in his coat and brooches set thick with shining stones on his bosom, a-coming up the side of the boat. He looks so proud and puffy, that I should have took him for the great Grand Duke, only that he wasn't near young enough.
"Who is it?" says I to the old gentleman.
"Catacazy," says he.
"Cat—what?" says I, categorically.
"Catacazy, the Russian Minister," says he.
"Minister," says I; "do they mean to get up a prayer-meeting on board?"