Peter the Great had escaped from
prison. Not only he, but all the others were at liberty once more,
including the Messiah who, after some attentions on the part of the
communal doctor, had been put to bed like a little child. The rest of
them filled her trim walks with their gleeful laughter and bright
raiment; they devoured abundant wines and food at those refreshment
tables which groaned under the weight of good things. One could trust
Madame Steynlin to attend to the commissariat department. She knew how
to gladden the human heart. That of Peter the Great was gladdened to
such an extent that he soon began to perform a Russian peasant dance, A
PAS SEUL, to the delight of the assembled guests. It was a cheery
interlude with a disastrous ending, for the rough terrace being
different from what he expected, he stumbled and fell full length upon
the ground. There he lay, laughing, like a young giant refreshed with
wine.
"I don't know how you have done it, Mr. Keith," she said, "and I am not
going to ask.
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