The same evening, about eight o’clock, the Czar entered his country-house and sought Katherine. “The old has passed away,” he said. “Now we will begin the new—you and I and our children.”
The Czarina asked no questions, for she understood. But the Czar was so tired and exhausted, that she feared lest he should have one of the attacks which she knew so well. And the only way of quieting him was the old customary one.
She sat down in the corner of the sofa; he laid down resting his head on her capacious bosom; then she stroked his hair till he fell asleep. But she had to sit for three hours without moving.
A giant child on a giant bosom, the great champion of the Lord lay there, his face looked small, his high brow was hidden by his long hair; his mouth was open, and he snored like a little child asleep. When at last he awoke, he looked up at first astonished, to find himself where he was. Then he smiled, but did not say Thank you, and did not fondle her.
“Now we will have something to eat,” was the first thing he said. “Then something to drink, and then a great firework. I will light it myself down on the shore. But Jaen Scheerborck must be present.”
“You have thrown him out.”
“Have I? He was drunk, the fellow. Send for him at once.”
“You are so strange, Peter! Never the same for two minutes together.”
“I will not be the same; it would be too monotonous. Always something new! And I am always new. What! I do not weary you with everlasting sameness.”