I hadbegun, as I say, to understand and to know Mazeppa, and the first fruit of my better knowledge was the determination to be very cautious in my dealings with him, for in spite of his seeming goodwill towards me I began almost unconsciously to distrust him. It was not long before I became persuaded of this, in Mazeppa, that he did nothing and said nothing without careful intent. Which being so, thought I, his friendship towards me cannot be disinterested, and its reason must be discovered.
Thus, after much consideration, I came at length to the conclusion that Mazeppa intended to use me. I was a pawn in his political schemes, to be employed in the accomplishment of his ends. But I must have position and power to be of use to him, and at present I had none. Then I thought of his words: ‘We will rise in the world side by side,’ and the idea came to me that Mazeppa fixed certain hopes upon my career as a soldier. He intended that I should haveinfluence among the soldier population, and that that influence should be employed by me, when the time came, for his advantage.
‘Well,’ thought I, ‘I am willing to rise; but whether my influence, if I have it, shall be used to your advantage or my own, friend Mazeppa, shall depend!’
And indeed both Mazeppa and I—perhaps specially recommended to Samoilovitch by the Tsar himself, as to which I knew nothing—prospered amazingly at the Court of the Hetman. Mazeppa, as secretary to Samoilovitch, soon gained his confidence and became very quickly a power—a force more felt than seen and realised, but none the less a force. As for myself, I too was in much favour with the Hetman, and rose rapidly as a soldier of his army.
The Tsar Alexis died, and in a very short while his son Feodor died also, and now Mazeppa was sent to Moscow, at his own suggestion, in order to see how the land lay in the matter of the Romanof succession. I accompanied him by order of the Hetman, who bade me keep an eye upon Mazeppa and report all that he said and did.
I received this order with surprise. Did the Hetman, then, distrust hispeesar?
We found Moscow in a turmoil, arriving—as it chanced—on the very day when the Streltsithose hereditary regiments of turbulent busybodies which Ivan the Terrible had raised and armed, marched in revolt upon the palace within the Kremlin, in order to right certain imaginary wrongs.
It had been whispered among these men that the Tsar Feodor had been done to death by the family of Naryshkin, in order that their own relative—young Peter—might succeed. The Tsar Alexis had married a second wife, choosing a daughter of the Naryshkin family, and her brothers—it was said—would be deterred by no crime from placing their nominee, Peter, upon the throne. Some even said that they would go further than this and murder Peter himself in order that one of themselves, as brothers of the Tsaritsa, might usurp the throne. Now between Peter and the succession there stood Ivan, his imbecile half-brother, and it was averred by the Streltsi that the Naryshkins had not only murdered Feodor, but also this Ivan, and it was in the midst of the fury and the madness of their awakening that we reached Moscow. We found the streets full of an excited mob, all surging in the direction of the palace, following and accompanying the Streltsi, who rushed through the midst of the crowd shouting and gesticulating, and turning up the sleeves of their red shirts as they ran with naked swords to the slaughter.
Some cried as they ran that Feodor had been assassinated; others that Ivan, the helpless, harmless child of fourteen, had been murdered also; but all shrieked curses upon the Naryshkins and howled for their blood.
Now whether Feodor had been poisoned, as was said, or whether he died a natural death, I know not; but it is certain that neither Ivan nor Peter had been harmed, for the Tsaritsa, in response to the shouts of the Streltsi mob beneath the palace windows, brought out both children upon a balcony and allowed the deputation of the soldiers to climb up and identify them.
But this was not enough for the Streltsi, who had come for blood and must have it. They still shouted for Naryshkins to be thrown out to them, and two of their own generals who strove to appease them were quickly cut in pieces.
Then a search was made for the brothers of the Tsaritsa, the Naryshkins, a number of the Streltsi forcing their way into the palace and searching it throughout. They found and slew two who had taken refuge in the chapel, and—having vented their fury upon them—were satisfied.
But the mob without howled for victims, and by an unfortunate chance both Mazeppa and I, who followed with the mob into the palace square,came near to supplying food for their insensate rage. For as we stood, or were hustled hither and thither, Mazeppa, nudging my arm, bade me see who stood near us, separated from us, however, by a score, or maybe a hundred, of the crowd. I looked and immediately recognised an old acquaintance, Falbofsky. This was he whom Mazeppa had left for dead some years before at our home in Volhynia—the rogue who had sent him to ride naked through the Ukraine, shaming us both into exile.
‘It is Falbofsky,’ I said laughing—‘an old friend indeed!’ I felt no animosity against the man; time had smoothed out the rancour I had felt in the old days. But Mazeppa was, it seemed, of a different temper.
‘I hoped I had wiped out our score that night,’ he said, looking darkly at the man, ‘but the fellow takes two killings to end him. We will see that he does not escape: he is easily followed and marked down!’
Presently Falbofsky turned and observed us, and I could see at once that if Mazeppa had not forgiven his offence, neither had he forgiven Mazeppa’s; for he stared and glared furiously at us for a moment. Then, like a fool, he began to shout aloud maledictions and threats, calling us by our names, and continuing, yet more foolishly,to tell those about him of the escapade of many years ago and of Mazeppa’s shameful treatment.
Mazeppa’s face grew milk-white with rage. A few Streltsi standing near began to be attracted by the loud voice of Falbofsky.
‘What is the matter—have you found a Naryshkin?’ they cried, pushing through the crowd towards Falbofsky, who took no notice but talked on, glaring at Mazeppa.
Then I observed Mazeppa behave in a surprising way. He pointed at Falbofsky: ‘A Naryshkin!’ he shouted. ‘If you seek for Naryshkins, there is one, the vilest fox of the litter!’
‘Which, which?’ cried the Streltsi, struggling up with bloodshot eyes and hands that clutched their naked weapons, ready to strike.
‘The old one!’ cried Mazeppa, pointing. ‘He was on his way to the palace, but got jammed in the crowd.’
In a moment the men fell upon Falbofsky and cut him to pieces. They killed two others standing beside him, lest they should have made a mistake and slain the wrong one. They stuck the three heads upon spear-points and pushed through the mob, screaming that they had sent one or more of the Naryshkin litter to hell.
‘Come,’ said Mazeppa, ‘we will not stay!’and, sick at heart and shocked, I struggled my way out of the square.
‘You devil, Mazeppa!’ I said, when I had recovered my breath. ‘No murderer is more guilty than you after such a deed!’
‘You fool—it was his death or ours!’ he replied. ‘Could you not discern so much? Let a man but point at another, this day, and speak loudly, and lo! there is found a Naryshkin for the Streltsi to fall upon. In another moment we should have been the victims instead of he.’
‘Thank God,’ said I, ‘that my heart is not for ever full of black vengeance. I had forgotten his offence, and wished him no ill.’
‘As to that,’ said Mazeppa grimly, ‘it is not my way to forget, nor yet to forgive. Moreover, it was I that was put to shame, and not you.’
Thus again did Mazeppa reveal himself. A terrible hater, indeed! Nevertheless, as I have since thought, his quick wit saved us that day from the fate of Falbofsky and of many others mistaken by the Streltsi for Naryshkins.
Wise folks declare that the real secret of the rising of the Streltsi was the rivalry between the two factions represented by the families of the two wives of the Tsar Alexis—the Miloslavskys and the Naryshkins. It is natural that the Miloslavskys, relations of Ivan, the incompetent prince,and of Sophia, the princess upon whom Mazeppa had set ambitious eyes, should have desired that their own nominee should sit in the highest place, rather than a younger prince of the Naryshkin faction, and it is said that the Miloslavskys it was who aroused the Streltsi, by foolish reports, to wage war upon their rivals and to murder all upon whom they could lay hands that were of Naryshkin blood.
The upshot of the Streltsi rising was, shortly, this: that Ivan and Peter became joint Tsars, in name, under the Regency of Sophia, in whom was vested the real power, the elder Tsar being both sickly and incompetent, and the younger—though a child of spirit and showing promise of character even at this early time—a mere fledgling of ten years.
This was a victory for the Miloslavskys, of course, for Sophia was the daughter of the Tsar Alexis by his first wife, the Miloslavsky princess, and the incompetent Ivan was her full brother.
I saw the princess now for the first time, and was not greatly charmed by her appearance. She was stunted and squat in form, sickly in complexion, and far from attractive in feature and expression. She smiled very kindly upon Mazeppa, who assumed his most winning air. But whatever Mazeppa may have thought orhoped, it appeared to me that his ambitions in this direction must be doomed to disappointment; for the lady—it seemed to me—was already provided with a lover, one Galitsin, who never left her side and who frowned at Mazeppa’s advances as though he would have no poacher upon his domain. Moreover, Mazeppa was as yet as far as ever from the Hetmanship, and what possible chance should he have of securing a Tsar’s daughter for bride unless he were already the elected chief of the Cossack tribes? Add to this, that the lady was now Regent, and it will be seen that Mazeppa’s chances were slight indeed. I said as much to Mazeppa, who laughed and replied that Galitsin was welcome to the princess.
‘I am Galitsin’s lover no less than hers!’ he said. ‘Politically I am deeply in love with both, and there my love ends.’
I hadseveral opportunities of seeing the two young Tsars, as well as the Regent, at this time. The contrast between the elder and younger sovereign was almost incredible—Ivan, the elder, a puny, unwholesome, puffy, sickly-looking lad of some fifteen years, timid and inclined to weep when spoken to, glad to retire from the public eye; Peter, the younger, upright, and very tall for his age—he was scarcely more than ten, indeed, but he was already taller than his brother—fearless, dominant, gazing round with the proud and defiant air of the lion, answering boldly and with dignity both to the questions which were addressed to himself and also those to which Ivan should have replied. For when Ivan was addressed he would flush and hesitate and look as though he must presently burst into tears. Then he would glance at his brother, and the child Peter would speak for him, unless indeed the Regent were present, in which case she would reply for both.
The two princes occupied a double throne, which consisted of two chairs separated by a space of a foot or two, which space was covered or veiled by a silken screen, behind which sat and listened, and sometimes prompted, the Regent Sophia.
I soon conversed with the little Tsar Peter, whose frank manner captivated me. Seeing that I was a Cossack officer, he questioned me closely as to the feats of horsemanship for which our tribes are famous, bidding me describe some of these, which, to the best of my power, I did.
‘When I am older you shall come up to Moscow and teach me,’ he said: ‘I shall learn all these tricks of riding. What are the qualities necessary for one who will excel?’
‘First, patience in practice, Highness,’ said I; ‘then suppleness of body, and, chief of all, courage or nerve, and the determination to laugh when you tumble and not to be deterred by a little pain or even a broken bone.’
‘Well, you shall show me one day,’ said the Prince, ‘and afterwards I will decide whether it is worth while to learn.’
Mazeppa was very friendly with both Sophia and her favourite friend and counsellor, Galitsin, one of the ablest men that Russia has yet produced, though a poor general, as we shall soonlearn. Between these three there were held many secret councils, and I have little doubt that Mazeppa at this time arranged many things both to his own satisfaction and to theirs with regard to the future politics of our tribes. He learned his lesson well, indeed, for I know that he was never afterwards in doubt when any point arose for discussion as to the wishes of our suzerain power—Russia.
Mazeppa had resigned his ambitious matrimonial project without, as it seemed, a pang of regret. But, as though to console himself for the sacrifice, he bestowed much time to the society of one who could scarcely have been more different in every respect from the Regent Sophia, a little maiden—daughter of a well-to-do Boyar, one Kurbatof, by a French wife—Vera Kurbatof, who by virtue of her semi-foreign birth was not condemned to the seclusion of theterem, or ‘woman’s department,’ in which most maidens of her day were obliged to pass their existence.
Vera was very young and very beautiful, and there is no doubt that Mazeppa soon lost his heart to her, delighting in her society and spending all the time that he could spare in the endeavour to make himself agreeable to her. Vera, it seemed to me, was less fascinated by Mazeppa than he by her, a circumstance which Iwas glad to perceive, for throughout our long friendship it has been my habit to pity any lady upon whom Mazeppa is disposed to bestow the illusory boon of his affections. Mazeppa’s heart was ever soft and susceptible, and ever inconstant. Woe to every maiden who should listen to the voice of this most fickle of wooers, for his love was a hostage for many tears.
It were wasted time indeed to dwell upon the tale of this as of any other of Mazeppa’s excursions in love, but that in this particular matter there is much to be told that concerns others besides himself, for this Vera is to occupy a large space in these records.
And the first intimation I had that there might be more in this than in others of the countless love affairs in which I have seen my friend involved was that one day—shortly before we left Moscow to return to the Ukraine—the Princess Sophia bade me, with a laugh, ‘look whereto converge the eyes of thy friend and of another.’
I followed the gaze of the Princess: she was looking at Vera Kurbatof and glanced at Mazeppa. ‘That is one pair,’ she said; ‘now seek for thyself the other.’
I looked round at the roomful of courtiers and others, for there were many present—takingthe oath of allegiance some, and others spectators and officials—but I could see none who seemed to stare, like Mazeppa, at this fair young girl.
‘Look higher!’ the Princess said, smiling.
Then it occurred to me to glance at the two Tsars, seated upon their twin throne, and to my wonder I perceived that the eyes of Ivan were riveted upon Vera. His pale, puffed face was somewhat flushed and animated—more so than I had yet seen it—and he seemed for once interested and absorbed, instead of listless and weary and worried.
‘It will be desirable and most necessary that my brother should one day choose for himself a wife,’ said Sophia, ‘and in a year, or at most two years, his marriage may be arranged. It would be a matter for which to praise God if he should show any desire to enter the wedded state, and a mercy for which we have scarcely dared to hope.’
Being somewhat slow of wit, especially when in conversation with great people, for at such moments a certain shyness often assails me, I did not at once comprehend why her Highness favoured me with this communication.
‘Your friend Mazeppa should be warned,’ she continued, ‘that he treads on dangerous ground.’
Then I understood, and laughed together with her Highness.
‘My friend does not take seriously the affairs of the heart,’ I said. ‘In two days he will leave Moscow, and in three he will forget that he has seen this lady.’
‘And she? That is also important. My poor brother should have, if possible, a heart that is untainted. Mazeppa is a handsome man.’
‘As to that, Highness,’ I said, ‘I cannot judge, for I have neither spoken to Mazeppa of the matter nor yet watched it for myself. But at any rate I will warn my friend.’
‘Do so,’ said her Highness, ‘but not as from me.’
I did warn Mazeppa, telling him that I had observed the Tsar Ivan look in such a manner at the girl that one might suppose he was attracted by her. Mazeppa laughed much when I told him.
‘The youth is one of God’s afflicted,’ he said. ‘There is not life enough in his veins to warm him into admiration for the charms of a maiden. What, would the Regent have Vera marry that dolt? As soon let a maiden mate with a figure of clay.’
‘See for yourself how he gazes at her and flushes, even now!’ I said.
Mazeppa looked and laughed scornfully.
‘Bah!’ he said. ‘He is gazing at the jewel that hangs at her neck; it moves with her breathing, and he stares at it as a cat would. You are a fool, Chelminsky, to speak of that imbecile and of love in the same breath.’
This was certainly possible, though it appeared to me that the fact was otherwise, and that this unfortunate prince had actually found a face which it pleased him to gaze upon.
‘Nevertheless,’ I said, ‘without doubt they will one day cause this youth to marry someone, for the succession’s sake!’
‘Then Heaven have pity upon the lady,’ he laughed, ‘for imagine what it would be for a woman to be mated with a thing no more beautiful and man-like than this, even though they should call him Tsar of Russia! Moreover, my friend, look on this prince and on that—which is the likelier to dominate when both are grown out of leading-strings? Peter is ten times the better man already, ay, and better now than the other will ever be!’
‘She is a beautiful girl, however,’ I said, ‘and it is no wonder that even a half-man, like Ivan, should gaze upon her face with admiration!’
‘Oh, I grant that,’ said Mazeppa, flushing; ‘the best and highest of men might so gaze uponher and thank his God for the eyes that were given him to see so fair a sight withal!’
‘Ha!’ I said. ‘Mazeppa, that is more than thy usual praise for a woman: is it possible that thou hast it in thy mind to run a race with the Tsar for a pretty wench? That would endanger thy favour with her Highness!’
‘Bah!’ said Mazeppa. ‘I tell you that he gazes at the jewel at her throat because it flashes in the sun: set a light dancing upon the wall, and he will stare at that. As for the girl, it is not my habit to do things in a hurry, and least of all will I marry in haste; but she is certainly one of the fairest of women that I have yet seen! Think you such as she would mate with an Ivan, even though he be half a Tsar? I think she would die first!’
As to that I knew nothing, for I did not pretend to understand the heart of woman. But I knew this, that Russian Tsars marry whom they will, be they devils like Ivan the Terrible, or unsightly, unwholesome things like this other Ivan; for either the maidens must, though they would not, or else they consider that the man matters little so long as there is a crown to be worn, and one may call herself Tsaritsa!
I became somewhat friendly with Vera Kurbatof, and before I left Moscow I took occasion to ask her how she liked my friend Mazeppa.
‘He is handsome,’ she said, ‘and has a good manner, and he is cleverer than all these together except Galitsin; but he is cunning, and I am afraid of him; also he looks as though he might be treacherous. On the whole, I do not like him! Yet, if I should ever need such help as the wit or cunning of a man might furnish me withal, I should trust his wit sooner than another’s, so long as I knew that he lost nothing by helping me.’
I laughed much at the time over Vera’s saying. But afterwards, that is when next Vera’s destiny crossed my own, I remembered it, for I had then reason to believe that Mazeppa had somehow compacted with the girl to stand her friend in certain contingencies. And that Mazeppa was one who would never work without pay I knew well!
Aboutone year from the time of our return to the Hetman’s Court after this visit to Moscow, as I reckon it, there began to subsist a state of constant warfare between Mazeppa and myself; not a warfare of thrust and blow, of swords or of pistols, indeed, for we never came to violence, but a warfare of wit, in which the desire to obtain the better of one another was the principal end and motive.
We had been, on the whole, good friends up to this time. I had, indeed, begun very gradually to understand Mazeppa and to regard him, in consequence, with more suspicion and less respect than formerly; but I now soon realised that I must treat him differently, that I must in fact dissemble with him, since I found that he dissembled constantly in dealing with myself, if I desired to live upon equal terms with my friend and not to lag for ever behind in the race of life.
That which first angered and set me to use my wits against him was this:
I was sent in command of my thousand of Cossacks upon an expedition, half scouting and half punitive, in connection with the Tartars of Azof, an expedition which, though its results were meagre, occupied half a year. Now, though I have said little about such matters in connection with myself, preferring to regard Mazeppa as the hero of my history and to dwell upon that which concerns him rather than my own affairs, I will now state that there was a maiden at the Court of the Hetman towards whose charms I was not indifferent. I had had many affairs of the heart: we Cossacks never lack for friends of the fair sex, and I may say without boasting that my success in such matters had for ever been satisfactory, and quite on a par with that of Mazeppa himself, who prided himself upon being irresistible.
Now this lady, Olga Panief, was young and proud, and pre-eminent among Cossack maidens for comeliness. There was scarcely one of us who lived within the shadow of the Hetmanate who had not, at one time or another, laid siege to her heart, which, however, had never until quite recently capitulated.
Even when, as all supposed, I had at length caused the beleaguered one to lower her flag and permit the entrance of Love the Conqueror, I was not atall so sure of my conquest as others supposed, and when I went with my Cossacks among the Tartars I rode with an unquiet heart, for I knew for certain two things—the first, that Mazeppa would profit by my absence in order to re-invest the citadel which should be mine by right of conquest; and the second, that my hold upon the fair Olga was not so secure but that she might even now lend a willing ear to so artful a singer as Mazeppa.
For what actually happened I was by no means prepared.
My first visit on my return was to the house of Panief, the father of fair Olga, and one of the seniors among the Cossack colonels.
But, to my astonishment, the Panief mansion was closed, and the family, evidently, were out of town.
Then I went to Mazeppa, for my thoughts and suspicions turned as naturally to him as a man would look up at the clouds when rain fell.
On the way to Mazeppa’s house I met Sotsky, of whom I inquired what had become of the Paniefs.
‘Oh, that is a little bit of our friend Mazeppa’s handiwork,’ he laughed. ‘Mazeppa took advantage of the absence of someone to lay violent siege in a certain quarter. He had no success, and this is the result.’
‘What do you mean?’ I said. ‘Where are the Paniefs? What can Mazeppa have to do with their disappearance?’
‘Oh, ask Mazeppa himself; it is not my business!’ Sotsky laughed, and he went upon his way without further explanation.
Sotsky’s words and manner entirely puzzled me, and I scarcely knew how to approach Mazeppa, whether with sword in hand and accusations in mouth or as one who knows nothing.
Of what, indeed, could I accuse him?
Mazeppa betrayed no agitation. ‘He will play the fox,’ thought I, and I determined that I too would act both cautiously and with cunning equal to his own. But Mazeppa was frank, and disarmed me at once.
‘Your first question will be “Where is Olga?”’he said, laughing. ‘And my answer is prepared, “She is in Moscow!”’
‘In Moscow!’ I replied, astonished. ‘What does she there?’
‘I do not wonder that you are surprised. If you had visited a dozen other houses in which dwell maidens of rank and good appearance, you would have found them also deserted, like the Paniefs’. During your absence there came a messenger from the Grand Duchess, the Regent.Do you remember when we were last in Moscow that you played the prophet and declared how one day they would cause the Tsar Ivan to take a wife? You were right, and I—who laughed the idea to scorn—was wrong. The word has gone out for the maidens to assemble in Moscow for the Tsar’s inspection.’
‘And to whom,’ I asked angrily, ‘was the selection entrusted in this district? To you, Mazeppa, I’ll be bound!’
‘You may see the letter of her Highness,’ said Mazeppa, producing the document and handing it to me. ‘If you are angry that Olga Panief was sent, you are wrong; for go she would, whether you or I willed it or willed it not!’
‘I think that is a lie, Mazeppa,’ I said fiercely. ‘I will tell you what has happened. In my absence you have sought to reap in my field, but Olga would have none of you, and in return you have included her name with those from among whom the Tsar is to make his choice.’
‘Not so,’ said Mazeppa; ‘you are angry and make unjust accusations. Olga, as I have said, was determined to go; she would take her chance like the rest, she declared, and when I said, “What of Chelminsky, Olga?” she repliedthat both Chelminsky and I and any other Cossack lover might go hang if the Tsar would have her, even a Tsar that spluttered when he spoke and played with a child’s toys. I swear that what I say is true. Go to Moscow and see for yourself, if you will.’
Knowing Olga as I did, I was aware that it might well be as Mazeppa said.
‘It would serve the minx right,’ I replied angrily, ‘if the Tsar should choose her; but of that there is little chance, for I think his choice is already made, and this assembling of the maidens is a formality, a concession to ancient customs, and no more.’
Mazeppa winced at this, by which I knew that he had not yet forgotten his infatuation for Vera Kurbatof.
‘I know not to what choice of the Tsar’s you refer,’ he said. ‘They would scarcely assemble the maidens if it were as you say.’
‘If, as you admit, I was a good prophet on one occasion, why should I not prove all a prophet, and not only half?’ I laughed. ‘You remember well enough that I bade you see how the Tsar watched the face of Vera Kurbatof; be sure that his choice began and will end with her, even though a Mazeppa should woo in rivalry.’
‘I think not,’ said Mazeppa. ‘She would never——;’ he paused, and paced the floor awhile in thought.
I read the Regent’s letter: it was short, and merely made known that it had been decreed that the elder Tsar should take a wife. Maidens of the desired age—about seventeen—would assemble at the Kremlin Palace by the day fixed for their arrival, and those agents appointed in the various districts would be answerable for the despatch of all such maidens, of suitable rank and age, as were to be found in their locality. Mazeppa, being known to her Highness, was by her appointed agent for the Ukraine towns and district.
‘You have acted unfriendly, Mazeppa,’ I said. ‘You should have reflected that being, in a measure, affianced to myself, Olga might be exempted from this formality. The power is in your hands to send or to exempt a maiden.’
‘I tell you, my friend, that the girl would take no denial: she would go. She spoke of you and of me in a breath, declaring that neither for your sake nor for mine would she surrender so great a chance of advancement. “I am no more Chelminsky’s than yours”—those were her words—“and I hope to heaven that I shall be neither his nor yours, but the Tsar’s!”’
‘I know not whether to believe you or not,’ Isaid, and Mazeppa replied with a laugh that in that case I had better go to Moscow and ask the lady for myself. ‘She is a saucy minx,’ he said, ‘and will not withhold the truth to save your feelings. As the agent of her Highness in this matter I am bound to be in Moscow on the day appointed, in order to see that the maidens from my district are duly assembled. The day appointed is but a week hence: travel with me if you will. I shall be glad of your company, and perhaps also of your assistance in——”
Mazeppa did not finish his speech, but relapsed into thoughtful silence. I did not think twice upon his broken sentence, imagining that he meant he would need help in collecting and marshalling the army of Cossack maidens, which would be his duty.
As for me, I felt aggrieved and angry that Olga Panief should have spoken and acted thus. I suppose my love for the girl could have been no more strong or real than hers for myself, however, for certainly I was more offended than heartbroken; and if any one feeling predominated in my mind over the rest it was an ardent hope that she might be disappointed of her ambition, and that the Tsar would not so much as glance at her.
Nevertheless, I determined to travel to Moscow with Mazeppa. The ceremony ofchoosing a bride for the Tsar—and especially such a Tsar as this one—must be of overwhelming interest. Moreover, I felt certain that the Tsar would choose Vera Kurbatof, and I was curious to see what would then happen; what Vera would do or say, and what Mazeppa would do. I even found out now, for the first time, that I myself began to feel a strange interest in this girl, and in the crisis which might now be before her.
Meanwhilea significant thing happened with regard to her who was generally believed to be as good as chosen beforehand to be Tsaritsa.
A sight to make angels weep and devils smile was it, men said, when Vera Kurbatof—before the great choosing, and I think before the assemblage even of the maidens—was summoned to the palace in order that the bridegroom Tsar (forsooth!) might first see her at his leisure and without the excitement of a throng around him.
There were two or three other maidens besides Vera who were thus, like her, subjected to a preliminary and private inspection by Ivan. These were the daughters of Boyars whose position at Court brought them constantly into the presence of the Tsar, and whom he therefore knew well and could meet and speak to without overmuch timidity and shyness. These Boyars, by Sophia’s decree, should have the first chance for their daughters; for it was hoped that Ivanmight more readily take a fancy to the child of one whom he already knew than to some stranger.
‘He will never take a fancy,’ some said, laughing, ‘for there is nothing of a man in him.’
But others declared that he had gazed twice at this maiden or that, and some knew—among whom was I—that his eyes had rested in a peculiar manner upon the face of Vera on a certain occasion—in a manner, indeed, which would seem to indicate more of the man in Ivan that some believed to exist.
The question was, did he remember his old-time fancy for her face, or was it so passing and passionless a sentiment that he had forgotten it during the score of months that had gone by since that day on which I had observed it?
I have heard from those who were present that his most gracious and most unmanlike Highness took no notice whatever of the daughters of those faithful Boyars who lived about the Court, excepting to curse this one and strike and spit at that one, and to burst into tears and upbraid his sister when brought in to see and consider a third.
But the interview with Vera was a different matter and a thing to be spoken of by itself. Here is a description of her visit, as told to meby one who saw it with his own eyes!—a scene, as I have said, to make angels weep!
Vera was sent for without notice and without information as to the object of her visit.
‘I have sent for you, child,’ said the Regent very kindly, ‘because I am favourably impressed by your appearance: you are certainly as fair as any of the maidens yet arrived, and it is possible that a great, a supreme honour may be in store for you.’
Vera hung her head, abashed: she would have renounced all claim to the honour implied, but she durst not.
‘I see you are overcome by the thought of this greatness,’ continued Sophia, taking the girl’s hand and patting it within her own. ‘Take heart, child, for indeed you would make as fair a Tsaritsa as we could wish to see.’
‘Oh, I dare not, I cannot, Highness,’ murmured poor Vera. ‘I am not the stuff of which Tsaritsas should be made: I have no ambition.’
‘Then begin now to take a larger view of life. Listen, it has been whispered me that his Highness my brother looks kindlier upon you than upon any other maiden that he has yet seen: there, sweet one, does not that awaken thy slumbering fancy? He is a great king—remember this—though, to say truth, but an afflicted youth.Do not lose sight of the greater issue by foolishly magnifying the lesser. The Tsar is the Tsar, whether he be lusty or afflicted; a handsome youth or, by the will of God, a pale invalid. Tell me, are you great enough to love the Tsar for his greatness, which you would share as Tsaritsa?’
Vera hung her head and remained silent.
‘Speak, girl!’ said Sophia, a little less kindly than before.
‘Madam, having seen so little of the Tsar and—and oh, Madam, how should I love him? I revere him, as Tsar and head of the Boyars, but to love is different.’
‘Well, well, fool; in order to marry wisely it is not always necessary to love. Love yourself, that is the first thing; if you truly love yourself you should seek your own good: is not that fair logic? What better thing can a maiden have than to be chosen Tsaritsa? I say there is no better destiny for a maiden under Heaven!’
‘To love and to be loved is the best, Madam, for some,’ said Vera, hesitating.
‘Tut, fool!—love does not wear for long. A high position and power—these are the lasting blessings, and they carry love with them—yes, and every other good thing besides. Moreover, if to love and to be loved is for you the be-alland end-all, let him love you, for his part, say I; and as for you—if you cannot love him, love whom you will!’
‘Madam!’ exclaimed Vera, and was about to say I know not what indiscreet thing, when the laughter of the two or three who were present, in which Sophia herself joined, interrupted her. Vera flushed deeply, but remained silent.
‘Well, child, speak,’ said the Regent; ‘why are you dumb?’
‘I have nothing to say, Highness. I have been used to see things otherwise than as your Highness would now teach me!’
‘The way of wisdom, little fool, is to accept thankfully the gifts which the gods provide,’ said Sophia, ‘whether it be a lover or position or anything else that is good. Here you have greatness offered you: that is, it might be offered you if you should play your cards wisely; also love, of a kind!’ she ended with a quick glance at Galitsin and the others.
Galitsin laughed aloud, but turned aside to hide it.
‘I wish for neither, Madam,’ said Vera boldly.
‘Well, Lord bless us, little fool!’ exclaimed Sophia, waxing impatient. ‘We are all subjects, both you and I and all of us, and as such boundto obey the Tsar whether we will or not: you admit that much, I doubt not. What if the Tsar desires thee—is he not to be obeyed because thou art a fool? Dear Saints! beware what you do, girl! To stand against the Tsar himself and to resist his will is the worst of all foolishness!’
‘Madam, have pity!’ said Vera, falling on her knees.
The Regent bustled her quickly to her feet. ‘I,’ she exclaimed, ‘what have I to do with the matter? It is not I that choose a bride, but the Tsar. If he choose thee, it is thou that art greatly honoured, not I! Stand upon thy feet, and shame not thyself before these men. Send for the Tsar, Galitsin, and let us have this comedy played and done with.’ Poor Vera fell a second time to her knees.
‘Madam, he will not make his choice here and now? You would not permit it—he must see all—there are many fairer than I and more fitted to be Tsaritsa—— Oh, do not let him come near me now!’
‘Peace, raver, and let me speak!’ replied Sophia grimly. ‘His Highness will not make his final choice here and now; but he shall see thee because it is said that he has shown a preference for thee. It is necessary that he take a wife, understand it or understand it not; it is necessaryfor the dynasty. Very well, if he will choose for himself, so much the better for all parties; if he will not, so much the worse; but in any case he will marry, and, if necessary, the choosing shall be done for him.’
Then in came Galitsin, and with him—angry to be disturbed, and asking querulously the reason—Ivan the Tsar. The Prince was in full speech when he entered the room, but when his eye fell upon Vera he became suddenly silent. He gazed at her fixedly for a moment, opening his mouth and shutting it again. Then be turned to his sister.
‘Why have you sent for me? it is not a reception,’ he said. ‘I will not see strangers without Peter; Peter is not here.’ Then his eyes sought Vera’s face once more and remained fixed there.
‘There are no strangers, Ivashka,’ said Sophia; ‘and there is no reception; only this beautiful maiden is come to show thee how fair she is—look well at her.’
‘She is fair enough,’ said Ivan; ‘but I care for no woman. I will not marry, Sophia; do not worry me.’
‘Ah, but how different is this one from the rest, only see, Ivashka—what eyes, what hair! had ever maiden such a form?—mark it well! She should sit at thy side when foreigners come,and should speak to them instead of thee! A fair thing to have for ever about one! Happy the man who may, if he will, possess her to gaze upon and to fondle for his own. Come, take her hand, Ivashka, and kiss it. She shall be thine own if thou wilt have her.’
The Tsar’s face had flushed during this speech. At the end of it he actually took the girl’s hand in his own, smiling in her face, or leering, as perhaps it might more accurately be called. He even began to raise her fingers as though to bring them to his lips, but at his touch Vera paled, staggered, and would have fallen fainting to the ground or into the Tsar’s arms, but that Galitsin caught her and laid her senseless form upon a divan.
‘See!’ said Sophia triumphantly: ‘she is overcome, brother, by the honour and the happiness thou hast done her in thus noticing her beauty above the others. Thou hast chosen well, my soul——’
‘I have not chosen her—I have not, I say,’ cried Ivan, stamping his foot and turning upon the Regent. ‘Why do you speak foolishness? I want no woman. She is afraid of me; do you think I do not see it? She might have suited, if I must marry, but she is afraid of me and hates me.’
‘Not so, not so, brother: only think, for a maiden to be chosen Tsaritsa is no small thing; no wonder that she has fainted in the sudden joy—— ’
‘Sister, you are sometimes a fool, though generally very wise,’ said Ivan. ‘Be silent, I say, and speak no more foolishness!’ With which words he turned and left the room, glancing back for a moment at Vera lying unconscious upon her divan.
Thereupon Sophia stamped and swore first, and then laughed, while Galitsin only laughed, and the two other witnesses—being courtiers—knew not whether to laugh or to look grave, and so the comedy ended.
A sight indeed to make angels weep!
Onewould suppose that with so comprehensive an order published throughout Russia, namely, that the fairest maidens from every part should be despatched to the city for the convenience of the Tsar in his choice of a bride, the whole of Moscow would be full of young women. And so, doubtless, would it have been but that a wise discretion had been left in the hands of those agents in each district to whom had been entrusted the duty of selecting and despatching the maidens. Not all who would fain have come were permitted to make the journey. Many were first weeded out as unfit before the final few, the very cream and perfection of Russian maidenhood, were despatched to the capital.
Indeed, there were no more than two hundred, in all, that now awaited in theteremof the palace in the Kremlin the verdict of the Tsar or of those who would choose for him.
I spoke with many of those who, like Mazeppa, had been entrusted with the duty ofselection. Of these some made very merry over their commission.
‘One would suppose that every maiden in my district,’ said one, ‘was of the age of seventeen, and beautiful, and virtuous, and healthy. I had crowds to deal with and none would take “no” for an answer. Believe me if you will, of the thousand or more that offered themselves from Novgorod, I am here at last with five maidens. I know not how I shall dare return to my home, for I have now nearly one thousand inveterate enemies, ready, I doubt not, to tear me to pieces!’
‘How is a man to say this one is beautiful or that one?’ said another. ‘As for me, I brought all who offered themselves, which was luckily only eight girls, my district being a narrow one. How should I say whom the Grand Duchess might think handsome, and whom plain? It is her affair, not mine; her eyes are the judges.’
‘What! is the Tsar to have no word in the choice?’ I asked, laughing.
‘Lord—as if he could say yea or nay for himself! He would weep and ask to be taken back to his play-room. “I desire none of them,” he would say. “Why should I marry any of these strangers?”’
All present laughed at this, but one said:
‘It is of the maidens I think. Were I one of them I should pray to God from this moment until the last hour of the choice that the Tsar might choose any one of the maidens rather than myself. Imagine, my brothers, the being mated with such a thing! A Tsar that dribbles at the mouth and chatters to himself, but will speak to no other if he can avoid it. A Tsar that falls in a fit if startled or loudly spoken to; a creature that—if he were not a Tsar—must be laughed at, or wept over; a thing to be hidden from the eyes of his fellows! Yet here is this frolic of nature paraded as though he were a man like another, in order that he may condemn one of God’s fairest creatures to the unspeakable horror of marrying him!’
‘That is foolish talk, Katkof,’ said another. ‘These young women come to marry the crown, or the throne, or the sceptre—what you will. What matter who it is that sits arrayed as king? Moreover, what signifies a marriage with such as Ivan? It is to be another nurse, another attendant, and there is the end; only that she will be called Tsaritsa, and will sit higher than every other woman in the land!’
I suppose that both opinions were right and both wrong. Some maidens there be, the majority I doubt not, who would accept allthings if only they might have the title and position of Tsaritsa. A few would pray to God with tears night and day that the Tsar, in making choice, would pass them over. They would grimace, or develop a weary look by keeping awake at nights, or they would cry their noses red and their eyes swollen! Anything to escape so hateful a destiny as to be chosen Tsaritsa to such a Tsar!
Vera Kurbatof was not among those who were obliged to live during the days of selection within theteremof the palace. This did not mean that she was exempt from competition: on the contrary, it was told me that she stood at the present moment first in order of probability. That is, the Tsar was supposed to regard her already with favour; and this final assemblage of maidens had been brought about merely in deference to old customs, and in order that it might be seen, before a final decision were made, whether this Vera were really supreme among her peers, or whether there might not possibly come one whose superiority was so marked that even Ivan must observe it.
For the Tsar must have the very best; that was the central idea.
By a lucky chance I happened to meet Vera Kurbatof on the very day after our arrival inMoscow. She was walking with the old nurse who was ever her companion out of doors, and she was strictly veiled, in the fashion of the time; for until the Tsar Peter afterwards changed this and many other things after his own drastic, autocratic fashion, women in Russia were, like their sisters in Eastern countries, discouraged from showing their faces in public.
I recognised her by her voice, which was a peculiarly sweet one, and as we met I spoke to her, making my profoundest reverence in order to atone for the boldness of addressing her without permission.
‘I think you are theBarishnyaVera Kurbatof,’ I said. ‘If I am right, let your voice bear the blame of betraying your incognito.’
She started. ‘Yes, I am she!’ she said, ‘and you—yes—I remember, you are the friend of the Cossack Mazeppa.’
‘May I not stand on my own feet as the Cossack Chelminsky?’ I said, making a show of laughing, though I felt somewhat aggrieved that she, of all others, should have remembered me not for myself, but in virtue of my connection with Mazeppa.
‘Forgive me, sir,’ she said, ‘I do, indeed, remember both you and your name, but it happened that I was thinking of Mazeppa. Ihave thought more than once lately of your friend, for—for a reason.’
‘Worse and worse!’ I said. ‘Now I am jealous, indeed! May I know why Mazeppa is so fortunate as to have been the subject of your thoughts?’
‘Forgive me, I am distracted at present; I scarcely know what I am saying. I desire very much to see your friend. I have longed day and night to see him, because—I cannot tell you why, excepting that I am in great trouble and danger and I need his assistance, which he once placed at my disposal.’
‘May I not be upon an equality with him by doing the same? All my wit and all my power are at your service. I am sure that I am as ready to serve you as he.’
‘I do not doubt it, and—and if it were ordinary service I should accept your offer most gladly, but that which Mazeppa suggested was a particular service and must not be spoken of, excepting to himself.’
‘What then would you wish me to do?’ I asked, feeling much mortified.
‘I would have you tell him that the time has nearly come when he must redeem his promise, if it is ever to be redeemed,’ she said. ‘Soon it will be too late; the danger I feared, or ratherthe danger which I refused to recognise, has proved a real one. It was he that pointed it out, half in jest and half in earnest, but it has come true.’
‘I will tell you that the secret is no secret for me!’ I laughed. ‘The danger you are in is this, that the Tsar Ivan desires to make a Tsaritsa of you and you desire it not. Am I right?’
‘Did Mazeppa tell you this?’ she asked. ‘Oh! did he send any message—that he would come to help me—to do that which he promised in case of imminent danger?’
‘Mazeppa gave me no message. As for the Tsar, it was I that showed Mazeppa which way the wind blew, not Mazeppa me. I saw how Ivan gazed at you, and bade Mazeppa look also. He feigned to think nothing of the matter; but I perceive that he thought badly enough of it to warn you and to promise assistance.’
‘Alas! what am I to do? Supposing that among these maidens there is none that happens to please his fancy—then I am lost!’
‘Think whether I cannot help you as well as Mazeppa, whom, as you told me, you fear or dislike.’
‘Hush! do not say that! It was thoughtful and kind of him to foresee danger and to suggest a remedy. I should be ungracious if I acceptedyour offer while his own still holds. Is he in Moscow?’
‘He is in Moscow,’ I said grimly. ‘I will tell him that you expect certain services from him which he promised in case of danger.’
‘Yes, tell him that. Do not think me ungrateful, my friend. I am under promise to apply for help to Mazeppa in case of need; I am none the less grateful to you for your offer.’
‘Will not your father take your side in this matter?’
‘Alas! he regards it from a different standpoint. For him, the crown is the crown, the man nothing. He thinks of the glory that would be mine and his if I were to become Tsaritsa. He glories in the prospect already, for, indeed, many say that the Tsar’s mind is made up, and that he will marry me or none. Now you understand how imminent is my need of escape. I would die a hundred times rather than mate with that loathsome thing.’
‘Well, I will tell Mazeppa,’ I said, feeling strangely mortified and somewhat heavy at heart besides. Vera Kurbatof had drawn me within the hall of her father’s house, and we sat before the stove and conversed. The old nurse sat with us, muttering occasionally, and crossing herself.
The old woman followed me as I rose to depart.
‘Do nothing she asks you!’ she whispered, taking me aside. ‘To be Tsaritsa elect, and to desire to escape! Who ever heard such things! Say nothing to Mazeppa of this. Do you know what he has promised her? I will tell you. He will carry her off to the Ukraine and hide her there so that none shall find her again. He is a devil, this Mazeppa; I can see it in his eyes. He would bring her to no good. He is not to be trusted.’
‘Maybe you are right, Matushka,’ I said. ‘I will keep your warning in mind.’
I told Mazeppa, nevertheless, as in duty bound, what Vera had said.
‘Aha!’ cried Mazeppa, visibly delighted. ‘So she remembers, and would have my assistance! Well, she shall have it, tell her. Let her be patient for a few days while we watch how matters go. She shall not be deserted, but I will not go near her at present, lest I should be suspected afterwards!’
Itwas at this time I first became intimate with a certain young lion cub destined before many years were passed—though few guessed it as yet—to become a very great and uncouth beast, and to startle the world with very loud roarings. Let me draw a picture of the said beast, whose name was Peter Alexeyevitch, the younger son of the Tsar Alexis.
‘You shall come and show my fellows how to ride,’ he had said to me, and to Preobrajensky I went, little dreaming how curious and suggestive a state of affairs I should find there. At Preobrajensky, but a few miles from Moscow, the younger Tsar lived with his mother, the Tsaritsa Nathalia, whose authority, since the Streltsi insurrection, had declined to zero, having given place to that of the Regent Sophia and her lover, Vassili Galitsin.
In this retreat mother and son lived almost undisturbed by the duties of young Peter’s high position, for it was the policy of Sophia to keepthe Tsar in the background, causing him to visit Moscow only on those rare occasions of ceremony when the presence of the nominal heads of the realm was absolutely necessary. Peter was allowed to live as he would—his vices to have free run, his follies to remain unchecked, in the hope that his subjects might thus behold him develop into an unworthy prince, on whose behalf it would be foolish to overturn a better if less legitimate order of things.
And, indeed, there were few at this time who watched the growth of this prince with any particular interest, as of one destined to great things. Whether he himself guessed his own greatness or no I cannot tell, though it is certain that it was possible to gather from an occasional remark from his lips that he was at least awake, and that the present position of politics and its possible development in his favour had not altogether escaped him.
I found him among grooms and cook boys, a motley company of his chosen companions, the base lump being leavened by the presence of a few sons of well-known Boyars. These were one and all members of the ‘Pleasure Regiment’ which it was Peter’s delight at this time to keep and to train: an odd assortment indeed of young moujiks, servants upon the estate, young Boyarsanddvoryanins, and every lad with a taste for soldiering or for wild living who had happened to hear of and be attracted by the half-serious, all-boyish activity of the young Tsar at Preobrajensky.
I found him drinking beer among the stable lads and moujiks who formed his chosen circle of friends and officers, and though assuredly Peter Alexeyevitch gave at that time scarcely a hint of the greatness that was in him, being as yet but in his sixteenth or seventeenth year, and with apparently little seriousness of thought about him, yet I felt marvellously attracted by the youth, believing that I saw in him more than I had been taught at Moscow to credit him withal, where it was the fashion to cry him down as a prince of little promise, given to excess of every kind, but possessing no solidity of character, no ambition, no sense of the responsibility of his position and of its duties. ‘He is a fool!’ Galitsin had said in my hearing, ‘a fool with many vices; one who, without the wisdom of the Regent to restrain him, might be a danger to the State.’
As to his personal appearance, this was most striking. Tall beyond belief, lanky, somewhat round in the shoulder, long-armed, dark-haired, large-eyed, round-faced, pleasant in expressionuntil the moment when some word or action of his companion’s or even some thought of his own aroused a feeling of anger, when at once his eyes became harsh and cruel like a savage beast’s, and his brow would knit and his mouth scowl. At such a moment too, his head would turn with a spasmodic jerk over his shoulder as though he would look at his heel, and sometimes he would grasp the nearest object with his hands—whether a man or a piece of furniture—as if to steady himself.
During these paroxysms Peter Alexeyevitch was a dangerous neighbour, having little control over himself. I have heard it said at the Russian Court that he is not to be blamed for such attacks, which were the simple result of those scenes of horror and carnage to which he was condemned at the age of ten by the excesses of the Streltsi, when his young feet were dragged by them through the blood of his uncles, his mother’s brothers, the Naryshkins, and when he was a personal witness of the murders of Dolgorouki, Matveyeff, and other victims.
For myself I have rarely seen him in a fit of passion, for it happened that he was pleased to take a fancy for me from our first acquaintance, and was ever kind and gracious towards me.
‘Sit, Chelminsky, and drink with us,’ henow cried, as I entered the large and dirty barrack room in which the company were assembled. ‘You are welcome; brothers, this is the prince of Cossacks, Chelminsky, who shall teach us all to ride presently. Meanwhile, give him the biggest tankard, and stand, all, while he drinks. There is beer and mead, Chelminsky; choose your stuff and drink till you’re drunk—it is our rule.’
‘Then I must ride before I drink,’ I laughed, ‘or I shall only teach your fellows how to fall off.’
I was allowed to postpone my drinking upon this plea, for which I must thank the youth of the Tsar, for assuredly but a year or two later, and ever afterwards, he would have listened to no excuse from any whom it pleased him to bid drink with him. To drink with the Tsar meant certain intoxication—for the guest, at least, if not for the Tsar also; but, being liberally gifted by nature in this as in most other respects, Peter was sometimes able to withstand when all around had succumbed. Yet, so robust was he that, however late he may have lingered over his wine cups by night, he was invariably able and ready to begin a long day’s work so soon as morning arrived, and to go through with it as no other man in the realm could have done.
I rode for an hour before this motley crew, showing them many Cossack tricks, to the great delight of the Tsar himself and of his companions—such as picking up a sword from the ground while passing at full gallop; vaulting into the saddle as the horse flew round in a circle; standing, kneeling, lying when in full career, and so forth.
Both the Tsar himself and many of his half-drunken companions must needs emulate my performances, one of the fellows breaking an arm and another his head, and the Tsar himself twisting his ankle in a fashion that caused him to walk lamely for several days afterwards. Meanwhile Peter expressed to me his satisfaction after his own manner. He smote me violently upon the shoulder:
‘By the saints, Chelminsky, a troop of horsemen like yourself should make themselves felt in a battle; one day, maybe, we shall fight together. Why should I not add fifty Cossacks to this regiment of mine? I will speak with you again of the matter, when I am sober.’
But since the Tsar was far from sober at this time, and for the rest of the day, I had no opportunity to discuss the matter.
But I met young Boutourlin in Moscow a day or two later, and spoke with him. The young Tsar was delighted with me, he said:‘And that may prove a wonderful thing for you, Chelminsky; for, believe me, this lion cub that yawns to-day and plays with bones shall hunt for himself to-morrow; and those who are his playmates now will presently become his princes and ministers.’
‘What! these grooms and moujiks?’ I laughed.
But Boutourlin wagged his head solemnly. ‘Both they and we,’ he said. ‘As, for instance, why should you not become Hetman of the Cossacks?’
‘Peter has first to become somebody before I can become anybody,’ I said; ‘the Regent and Galitsin have taken a good grip, and are not likely to let go.’
‘The deadliest grip can be loosened if you press tightly enough upon the gripper’s throat,’ said Boutourlin, laughing. ‘Our man is scarcely yet sixteen. Let him grow and think quietly, and big things may yet come of his thinking and growing. You, too, go home and think, but do not talk. Remember that we shall want the Cossacks, and when the Government changes in Moscow a new Hetman will have to be found at Batourin. Remember also that we others are wide awake, even though the lion cub should yawn. All this drilling is not for nothing.’
These words caused me to reflect, as they were meant to do, and I decided that, since Mazeppa was already the Regent’s man, I would be Peter’s; for I could lose nothing and might gain much by entering into an understanding with the young Tsar. If he should come to the front I should certainly profit; in any case, I should be no worse off.
I therefore rode daily to Preobrajensky, and became each day more familiar with the young lion who, as Boutourlin expressed it, lay and yawned there, waiting upon time and opportunity.
Certainly the Tsar could not be said to hold himself timidly towards the Regent, his sister, as some declare that he was too much wont to do; for during the short while that I was in Moscow at this time I saw him twice defy her authority, taking the law into his own hands after a fashion that a timid youth could not have imitated.
The first time that this happened was in consequence of a freak which originated upon the parade ground when I was myself present.
The ‘Pleasure Regiment’ marched past in silence, and someone remarked that there should be a band of drums and whistles (or fifes) to play the men into good step. This would make the parade more lively.
‘The Poutyátine regiment of Streltsi has them,’ laughed one of those who stood by.
‘Oh, oh!’ cried Peter, ‘we will raid them. Come, volunteers! who will help carry off these fifes and drums?’
There were many offers of assistance, and that evening the entire set of drums and fifes used by the Poutyátine regiment of Streltsi found their way in some mysterious fashion to the barracks of the ‘Pleasure Regiment’ at Preobrajensky.