Give these men some bread and water.

Peter (to himself). I shan't make much out of that order.

Colonel. As for myself, what have you got fit to eat?

Peter. Some good dried venison, your Excellency—and some rye whisky.

Colonel. Nothing else?

Peter. Why, more whisky, your Excellency.

Colonel. What clods these peasants are! You have a better room than this?

Peter. Yes, sir.

Colonel. Bring me there. Sergeant, post your picket outside, and see that these scoundrels do not communicate with any one. No letter writing, you dogs, or you'll be flogged for it. Now for the venison. (To Peter bowing before him.) Get out of the way, you fool! Who is that girl? (sees Vera).

Peter. My daughter, your Highness.

Colonel. Can she read and write?

Peter. Ay, that she can, sir.

Colonel. Then she is a dangerous woman. No peasant should be allowed to do anything of the kind. Till your fields, store your harvests, pay your taxes, and obey your masters—that is your duty.

Vera. Who are our masters?

Colonel. Young woman, these men are going to the mines for life for asking the same foolish question.

Vera. Then they have been unjustly condemned.

Peter. Vera, keep your tongue quiet. She is a foolish girl, sir, who talks too much.

Colonel. Every woman does talk too much. Come, where is this venison? Count, I am waiting for you. How can you see anything in a girl with coarse hands? (He passes with Peter and his aide-de-camp into an inner room.)

Vera (to one of the Nihilists). Won't you sit down? you must be tired.

Sergeant. Come now, young woman, no talking to my prisoners.

Vera. I shall speak to them. How much do you want?

Sergeant. How much have you?

Vera. Will you let these men sit down if I give you this? (Takes off her peasant's necklace.) It is all I have; it was my mother's.

Sergeant. Well, it looks pretty enough, and is heavy too. What do you want with these men?

Vera. They are hungry and tired. Let me go to them?

One of the Soldiers. Let the wench be, if she pays us.

Sergeant. Well, have your way. If the Colonel sees you, you may have to come with us, my pretty one.

Vera (advances to the Nihilists). Sit down; you must be tired. (Serves them food.) What are you?

A Prisoner. Nihilists.

Vera. Who put you in chains?

Prisoner. Our Father the Czar.

Vera. Why?

Prisoner. For loving liberty too well.

Vera (to prisoner who hides his face). What did you want to do?

Dmitri. To give liberty to thirty millions of people enslaved to one man.

Vera (startled at the voice). What is your name?

Dmitri. I have no name.

Vera. Where are your friends?

Dmitri. I have no friends.

Vera. Let me see your face!

Dmitri. You will see nothing but suffering in it. They have tortured me.

Vera (tears the cloak from his face). Oh, God! Dmitri! my brother!

Dmitri. Hush! Vera; be calm. You must not let my father know; it would kill him. I thought I could free Russia. I heard men talk of Liberty one night in a café. I had never heard the word before. It seemed to be a new god they spoke of. I joined them. It was there all the money went. Five months ago they seized us.