The same dazzling and brilliant sunshine, that for so many weeks had held sway in Petersburg, was still beautifying the Tsar's great capital, and gilding all things with an illusory sheen, which had all the appearance of true gold, but which fled away at the approach of darkness, leaving bare the cankerous fever spots, the dry bones and wasting disease of the most tyrannous, but most doomed phenomenon of autocratic power. During all the early hours of morning the sleeping city lay bathed in this wonderful alchemy; the Neva resting tranquil beneath the spell, even its cold grey waters catching reflections from the sun-god's rays. From above its low bank rose a long grey stone wall, broken he…
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