We have mentioned that the Emperor Alexander liked walking alone about the streets of St. Petersburg; he also indulged in the same habit when he travelled about. He was once journeying through Little Russia, when he reached a large village, and whilst the grooms were changing horses he jumped out of his carriage and told the postillions that he meant to walk on on foot for a while, therefore they need not hurry after him. Then, alone, clad simply in a military cloak, and divested of all his insignia, he began his walk. When he got to the end of the village, he found there were two roads and did not know which he ought to take, so he went up to a man who was dressed in a military cloak very similar to his own. The man was sitting smoking a pipe at his front door.
"My friend," inquired the emperor, "which of those two roads ought I to take to get to——?"
At this question, the man with the pipe eyed the interrogator from head to foot and, astounded that such an ordinary looking traveller should dare to speak with that familiarity to a man of his importance (especially in Russia, where differences in rank place a great gulf between superiors and inferiors), he went on puffing at his pipe, and snapped out—
"The road to the right."
The emperor understood, and respected the reason for his haughty indignation.
"Forgive me, monsieur," he said, touching his cap, as he went up to the man with the pipe, "may I ask one more question ...?"
"What is it?"
"May I ask your rank in the army?"
"Guess it."
"Well ... perhaps Monsieur is a lieutenant?"