Who was that healing ministrant, that John, the Son of Thunder, that little white-haired old man, of a countenance so full of peace?
He will appear again in this book, He will appear to another sufferer, who amongst the poor folk of this great Russian people, was seeking in lowly life, what Alexis the Tsarevitch was seeking near the throne.
CHAPTER VII
Blumentrost was amazed when he examined the patient in the morning; the fever had gone down, and the wounds were healing up. The change for the better was so sudden that it almost seemed miraculous.
“Thank the Lord, thank the Lord!” rejoiced the German, “there is hope for a recovery now!”
All through the day the Tsarevitch felt well; an expression of serene joy did not leave his face.
At noon his death sentence was read to him.
He remained calm during the reading, blessed himself with the sign of the cross, and asked when it would be put into execution. He was told that the day had not yet been fixed. His dinner was brought in. He ate with a good appetite; then asked for the window to be opened.