“Never mind. Serve up for two.”
It was the Czar’s habit thus to make himself a guest in his friends’ houses, whether they were at home or not, and he is said once to have thus quartered himself upon somebody, with two hundred of his courtiers.
After a splendid dinner, the Czar went into an ante-room and laid down to sleep. The captain had already gone to sleep at the table. But the Czar laid a watch beside him; he could wake whenever he wished.
When he awoke, he went into the dining-room, and found Jaen Scheerborck sleeping at the table.
“Bring him out!” commanded the Czar.
“Is he not to accompany your Majesty any more?” the chamberlain, who was a favourite, ventured to ask.
“No! I have had enough of him; one should not meet people more than once in a lifetime. Carry him to the pump—that will sober him, and then take him to his ship”—and with a contemptuous glance he added, “You old beast!”
Then he felt whether his sabre was secure, and went out.
After his sleep, Peter was again the Emperor—lofty, upright, dignified. He went along the promenade, serious and sedate, as though to a battle. When he had found Number 14, he entered at once, sure of finding his fifty men there. On the right hand ground-floor towards the courtyard, all the windows stood open. There he saw the conspirators sitting at a long table and drinking wine. He stepped into the room, saw many of his friends there, and felt a stab at his heart.
“Good-day, comrades!” was his cheery greeting.