“And the wind?”
“West south-west.”
“Nonsense, I myself have just registered it, South-west south.”
“It has changed,” replied Devière apologetically, as if he were responsible for the direction of the wind.
“Never mind,” said Peter decidedly, “the water will soon fall. The barometer points to fair; it won’t deceive, never fear.”
He believed in the infallibility of the barometer as he did in that of mechanics in general.
“Your Majesty, is there no order?” Devière asked plaintively. “Otherwise I really don’t know what to do. People are getting exceedingly frightened. Intelligent experts say——”
The Tsar closely eyed him.
“One of these intelligent experts I have had flogged near Trinity Church; and you too won’t escape, unless you give up talking nonsense. Go, fool!”
Devière, shrinking yet more, like the affectionate dog, Lizette, at the sight of a stick, instantly disappeared.