"Lieutenant Petrovitch, your Majesty, of the Moscow Infantry Regiment," answered the old soldier.
"Your Majesty, I implore you, take care. You are in an ambush of Nihilist villains," cried some one stepping forward hastily. "I know that man"—pointing to me—"he is the most dare-devil rebel of them all, and has planned this business for your assassination. For God's sake have a care. This is the most devilish snare that was ever vainly laid."
The Emperor moved away from me quickly and looked in the deepest perplexity from one to another of the group who had now crowded into the carriage.
"That is a strange thing to hear," said His Majesty. "The man has just saved my life at the infinite hazard of his own. You see him. But for him and for this good fellow"—waving a hand toward old Grostef—"the thrust you see there would have been in my heart."
"Yet I pledge myself to prove what I say. You know I do not speak at random. They are probably together in this."
Old Grostef growled out a stiff oath that was lost in his beard and then without releasing my head which was supported on his knee, he brought his hand to the salute and said gruffly:——
"Nihilist or no Nihilist, your Majesty, the lieutenant will soon be a dead man, choked by his own blood if his wounds are not dressed."
"There will be one traitor the less, then," said the man who had accused me, accompanying the words with a brutal sneer.
"Oh the contrary, Grand Duke," said the Emperor angrily, "his life is my special care. If he be a traitor it seems to me I should pray to God to grant me thousands of such traitors in my army."
"God save your Majesty, and Amen to that," cried old Grostef, unable to keep his tongue between his teeth at that, and positively trembling in his excitement.