The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1922-05-05

will ring if I need you"
 You will not go to zukovo to- night?''
 "I don't know"
 And with another gesture he waved the servant away.
 When VasiH had gone, the Grand Duke sat, his legs across the chair by the window, his arms folded along it's
 back while his dark eyes peered out. beyond the hills and forests, beyond the reddened dome of the village church into the past where his mag nlf1cent father. Nicholas Petrovitch
 held feudal sway over all the land within his vision and his fathers fa- thers from the time of his owen great namesake held all Russia in the hol- low of their hands.
 The Grand Dukes eyes were hard and bright -tbove the slightly prom inent cheek bones, the vestiges of his
 Oriental origin, but there was some- thing of his English mother, too in the contours of his chin and lips which tempered the hardness of his expression.
 The lines at his brows were not the savage marks of anger, or the venge- fulness that had characterized the pit Hess blood which ran in his veins, but rather were they lines of disappoint- ment, of perplexity at the problem that confronted him, and pity for his people who did not know where to turn for guidance He still believed them to be his people, a heritage from his 1ordly parent. his children, who were responsible to him and to whom he was responsible It was a habit of thought, inalienabIe, the product of the ages. But it was the calm phil osophy of his English mother that had first given him his real sense of obligation to them, her teachings, even before the war began, that had shown him how terrible were the problems that confranted his future
 His service in the army had opened his eyes still wider. and when Russia had deserted her allies he had return ed to Zukova to begin the work of re- construction in the ways his awakened conscience had dictated. He had vis- ited their homes; offered them counsel given them such money as he could spare, and, had, the thought, become their friend as well as their hereditary guardian All had gone we'll at first They had listened to him, accepted his advice and his money and renewed their fealty under the new order of things Vowing that whatever happen ed elsewhere in Russia, blood and ag- ony and starvation should not visit Zukovo.
 But the news that Vasilf brought was disquieting. It meant that the | minds of his people were again dis 1 turbed. And the fact that Prince Gal | itzin had always been hated made the | problems the Grand Duke faced none l the less difficult. For his people had burned, pillaged and killed. They had | betrayed him. And he had learned | in the army what fire and the smell of | blood could do. |
 With a quick nod of resolution he | rose He would go to them. He | knew their leaders. They would listen 1 to him. They must listen.
 He closed the piano carefully put ting away the loose sheets of music picked up his cap and heavy riding | crop from the divan, on his way to the door. pausing, his hand on the bell rope as a thought brought a deeper frown to his brow. Why had | Conrad Grabar, his chief forester, said nothing today? He must have known for news such as this travels from leaf to leaf through the forest. Con- rad! And yet he would have sworn by the faithfulness of his old friend and hunting companion. Perhaps Con- rad had not known.
 The Grand Duke pulled the bell rope, then went to the window again and stood as though listening for the