it entailed upon him. He left the presence of his aged friend with the heart, the purpose, the thoughts of a man. He felt the ennobling glow of patriotic fervour. His country was in jeopardy, and he was ready to give his life for it. He thought, as he turned his steps homewards,—
"This is enough to make my brave ancestor, the great Prince Pojarsky, arise from his grave to fight for holy Russia. From his grave? There are living graves, far off in drear Siberia: will the dead arise out of these, I wonder? Dear, unknown father—unknown, yet not forgotten—if still you see the sun and breathe the air of this world, how would you rejoice to come back and cover your stained name with glory! But I scarcely dare to hope your life has lingered on through all these weary years. If not, then mine are the only veins in which the blood of Pojarsky is flowing. Oh that I could win our ancient honour back again!"
