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THEY HAVE COLDS IN SLAVNA neither Stenovics nor Stafnitz seemed for the moment inclined to try conclusions, though each would have been very glad to see the other undertake the enterprise. In a military regard, moreover, they were right. The obvious thing, if Sophy still held out, was to wait for the big guns. When once these were in position, the old battlements of Volseni could stand scarcely longer than the walls of Jericho. And the guns were at the head of navigation on the Krath now, waiting for an escort to convoy them to Slavna. Max von Hollbrandt—too insignificant a person to feel called upon to have a cold—moved about Slavna, much amused with the situation, and highly gratified that the fruit which the coterie had plucked looked like turning bitter in their mouths.

Within the Palace on the river-bank young Alexis was strutting his brief hour, vastly pleased; but Countess Ellenburg was at her prayers again, praying rather indiscriminately against everybody who might be dangerous—against Sophy at Volseni; against the big neighbors, whose designs began to be whispered; against Stenovics, who was fighting so hard for himself that he gave little heed to her or to her dignity; against Stafnitz, who might leave her the dignity, such as it was, but certainly, if he established his own supremacy, would not leave her a shred of power. Perhaps there were spectres also against whose accusing shades she raised her petition—the man she had deluded, the man she had helped to kill; but that theme seems too dark for the comedy of Slavna in these days. The most practical step she took, so far as this world goes, was to send a very solid sum of money to a bank in Dresden: it was not the first remittance she had made from Slavna.

Matters stood thus—young Alexis having been on 283