"Katinka, do you recognise my godson? I beg you to love and welcome him as before."
Catherine turned on him her black searching eyes, and graciously held out her hand. Two young beauties, tall and shapely, and fresh as roses, stood behind her and respectfully approached Peter.
"Lisa," he said to one, "do you remember the little negro who stole apples from me at Oranienburgh to give to you? Here he is, I introduce him to you."
The grand duchess laughed and blushed. They went into the dining-room. In expectation of the Tsar the table had been laid. Peter, having invited Ibrahim, sat down with all his family to dinner. During dinner the Tsar talked to him on different topics, inquiring about the Spanish war, the internal affairs of Prance and the Regent, whom he liked, though he found in his conduct much to blame. Ibrahim displayed an accurate and observant mind. Peter was much pleased with his answers; remembering some incidents of Ibrahim's childhood, he related them with such good-humoured merriment that no one could have suspected this kind and hospitable host to be the hero of Poltava, the mighty and terrible reformer of Russia.
After dinner the Tsar, according to the Russian custom, retired to rest. Ibrahim remained with the empress and the grand duchesses. He tried to satisfy their curiosity, described Parisian life, their fêtes and capricious fashions. In the mean-while, some of the emperor's suite assembled in the palace. Ibrahim recognised the magnificent Prince Menshikoff, who, seeing the negro conversing with Catherine, cast him a scornful glance; Prince Jacob Dolgoruki, Peter's stern counsellor; the learned Bruce, known among the people as the Russian Paustus; young Bagusinski, his former companion, and others who had come to the Tsar to bring reports and receive instructions. In a couple of hours the Tsar came out.
"Let us see," he said to Ibrahim, "if you remember your old duties. Get a slate and follow me." Peter locked himself in the carpenter's room and was engaged with state affairs. He worked alternately with Bruce, Prince Dolgoruki, General Police-master Devière, and dictated to Ibrahim several ukases and decisions. Ibrahim was struck by the rapidity and firmness of his decision, the strength and the pliability of his intellect, and the variety of his occupations. When his work was ended Peter took out a pocket book to compare the notes and see if he had got through all he had meant to do that day. Then quitting the carpenter's workroom he said to Ibrahim:
"It is late; I dare say you are tired, sleep the night here, as in the old time; to-morrow I will wake you."
Ibrahim, left alone, could hardly realise that he was again at St. Petersburg, in the presence of the great man; near whom, not yet aware of his great worth, he had spent his childhood. It was almost with regret that he confessed to himself that the Countess L. for the first time since they parted had not been his sole thought throughout the day. He saw that in the new mode of life awaiting him, work and continual activity might revive his soul, exhausted by passion, indolence, and secret sorrow. The idea of being the great man's assistant, and with him influencing the fate of a mighty people, awoke in him for the first time the noble feeling of ambition. In this humour he lay down upon the camp bed prepared for him,—and then the usual dreams carried him back to distant Paris, to the arms of his dear countess.