"Well, what is it, Vasili?" he repeated. "You have the air of one with much on your conscience. Out with it. Has Sacha been fighting with you again?"
"No, Master, not Sacha," said the old man clearing his throat nervously, "it is something worse—much worse than Sacha."
"Impossible!" said the other with a laugh as he took up a cigarette from the table. "Nothing could be worse than a Russian cook when she gets into a rage——"
"But it is, Master—something worse—much worse——"
"Really! You alarm me." The Grand Duke threw himself into an armchair and inhaled luxuriously of his cigarette. And then with a shrug, "Well?"
The old man came a pace or two nearer muttering hoarsely, "They've broken out in the village again," he gasped.
The Grand Duke's brow contracted suddenly.
"H-m. When did this happen?"
"Last night. And this morning they burned the stables of Prince Galitzin and looted the castle."
The young man sprang to his feet.