at least we cannot accuse ourselves of the imprudent generosity we admired but could not prevent, though we have now become the victims of it." Doubtless Talleyrand only expressed the sentiments of all the Royalists of France; yet it was as well for him that he did not at that time fall in with the Emperor of Russia's Chevalier Guard. But infinitely worse to Alexander than all these reproaches was the imminent prospect of another great war, to water the soil of Europe with blood and tears, and renew the horrors it had been the dearest wish of his heart to terminate. Ivan was not surprised when a report reached him that the Czar was ill at Vienna. He knew—he was not likely ever to forget—that each remembrance of the useless slaughter at Austerlitz touched the chords of a lasting sorrow. He had heard of the terrible months of depression that followed the murder of the Emperor Paul, when the attendants of the new sovereign trembled for his reason or his life; nay, he himself had witnessed a partial recurrence of the same depression at the time of the death of Moreau. The sad face of his Czar, as he had seen it then, haunted him day and night, and from the very depths of his heart the cry went up to heaven, "O God, uphold and comfort thy servant, who putteth his trust in thee!"
At last the long-wished-for marching-orders came, and the early days of June saw the head-quarters of the Russian army established in Heidelberg, under the personal command of the Czar.
To the great joy of Ivan he looked well, and what surprised him still more, instead of the expected depression, there was such brightness in his countenance, such cheerfulness in his whole demeanour, that he thought some specially good tidings must have arrived. Meeting his friend Tolstoi, he asked him if such were the case. But Tolstoi reported, on the authority of his uncle the Grand Marshal, that there were no good tidings, but rather the reverse. Matters, he said, looked very
