"I don't understand it. Our Russians fired by mistake at friendly Dutch vessels, and you demand indemnity from the Swedes because the mischance occurred in Swedish waters."

"Yes, according to Roman law, the injury must be made good in the land where it happened...."

"Yes, but...."

"It is all the same anyhow: he who can pay, pays; I cannot, and the Dutch will not, therefore the Swedes must! Do you understand?"

"No."

"The Swedes have incited the Turks against me; they must pay for that."

"May be! But why do you write so harshly to the Dutch Government since you like the Dutch?"

"Why! Because since the Peace of Utrecht, Holland is on the decline. It is all over with Holland; on to the rubbish-heap with it! I hold on to England, since France is also declining."

"Should one abandon one's old friends?..."

"Certainly, when they are no more good. Moreover, there is no friendship in love and in politics. Do you think I like this wretched August of Poland? No! I am sure you don't. But I must go with him through thick and thin, for my country, for Russia. He who cannot sacrifice his little humours and pa.s.sions for his country is a Don Quixote, like Charles the Twelfth. This fool, with his mad hatred against August and myself, has worked for Sweden's overthrow and Russia's future. But that this Christian dog should incite the Turks against us was a crime against Europe, for Europe needs Russia as a bulwark against Asia. Did not the Mongol sit for two hundred years on our frontier and threaten us? And when our ancestors had at last driven him away, there comes a fellow like this and brings the heathen from Constantinople upon us. The Mongols were once in Silesia, and would have destroyed Western Europe if we Russians had not saved it. Charles XII is dead, but I curse his memory, and I curse everyone who seeks to hinder me in my laudable endeavour to raise Russia from a Western Asiatic power to an Eastern European one. I shall beat everyone down, whoever he may be, who interferes with my work, even though it were my own son."

There was silence for some moments. The last words referred to the Delicate topic of Alexis, Peter's son by his first marriage, who was now a prisoner awaiting his death-sentence in the Peter-Paul Fortress. He was accused of having endeavoured to hinder his father's work in the civilisation of Russia, and was suspected of having taken part in plots of rebellion. The Czar's first divorced wife Eudoxia was confined in the convent of Suzdal.

Katharina naturally did not love Alexis, since he stood in the way of her children, and she would have been glad of his death, but did not wish to incur the guilt of it. Since Peter also did not wish to take the responsibility for it, he had appointed a court of a hundred and twenty-seven persons to try his son.

The topic therefore was an unwelcome one, and, with his extraordinary facility for quick changes of thought and feeling, Peter broke the silence with the prosaic question, "Where is the brandy?"

"You will get no brandy so early, my boy."

"Kathrina!" said Peter in a peculiar tone, while his face began to twitch.

"Be quiet, Lion!" answered his wife, and stroked his black mane, which had begun to bristle. She took a bottle and a gla.s.s out of a basket.

The Lion cheered up, swallowed the strong drink, smiled, and stroked his spouse's expansive bust.

"Will you see the children?" asked Katherine, in order to bring him into a milder mood.

"No, not to-day! Yesterday I beat them, and they would think I was running after them. Keep them at a distance. Keep them under, or they will get the better of you!"

Katherine had taken the last letter, as though absent-mindedly, and began to read it. Then she coloured, and tore it in two. "You must not write to actresses. That is too great an honour for them, and can only disgrace us."

The Czar smiled, and was not angry. He had not intended to send the letter, but only scribbled it in order to excite his wife, perhaps also to show off.

There was a sound of approaching footsteps underneath.

"See! there is my friend, the scoundrel!"

"Hush!" said Katherine, "Menshikoff is your friend."

"A fine friend! Already once I have condemned him to death as a thief and deceiver; but he lives still, thanks to your friendship."

"Hush!"

Menshikoff (he was a great soldier, an able statesman, an indispensable favourite, enormously rich) came hurrying up the wooden stairs. It was in his house that the Czar had found his Katherine. He was handsome, looked like a Frenchman, dressed well, and had polished manners. He greeted the Czar ceremoniously, and kissed Katherine's hand.

"Now they are there again," he commenced.

"The Strelitzil? [Footnote: a Russian body-guard first established by Ivan the Terrible.] Have I not rooted them out?"

"They grow like the dragon's seed, and now they want to deliver Alexis."

"Have you any more exact information?"

"The conspirators meet this evening at five o'clock."

"Where?"

"Number fourteen the Strandlinje, at an apparently harmless meal."

"Strand--14," wrote the Czar on his tablets. "Any more?"

"To-night at two o'clock they fire the city."

"At two o'clock?" The Czar shook his head, and his face twitched.

"I build up, and they pull down. But now I will extirpate them root and branch. What do they say?"

"They look back to Holy Moscow, and regard the building of Petersburg as a piece of G.o.dlessness or malice. The workmen die, like flies, of marsh fever, and they regard your Majesty's building in the midst of a marsh as an act of bravado a la Louis Quatorze, who built Versailles on the site of a swamp."

"a.s.ses! My town is to command the mouth of the river, and to be the Key to the sea, therefore it must be there. The marsh shall be drained off into ca.n.a.ls, which will carry boats like those of Amsterdam. But so it is when monkeys judge!"

He rang; a servant appeared; "Put the horses to the cabriolet"; he called down, "and now, goodbye, Katherine; I shall not be home till to-morrow. It will be a hot day. But don't forget the letters. Alexander can help you."

"Will you not dress, little son?" answered Katherine.

"Dress? I have my sabre."

"Put at least your coat on."

The Czar put on his coat, drew the belt which held the sabre some holes tighter, and sprang at one bound from the platform.

"Now it will come off," whispered Menshikoff to Katherine.

"You have not been lying, Alexander?"

"A few lies adorn one's speech. The chief point is gained. To-morrow, Katherine, you can sleep quietly in the nursery with the heirs to the throne."

"Can any misfortune happen to him?"

"No! he never has misfortune."