“Now this is adroit,” laughed the Tsarevitch; he felt admiration for Theodosius, though he did not believe a single word he said. “You are sly, Father, sly as the devil himself.”
“Don’t disdain devils. Satan serves God’s purpose even against his will.”
“Does your holiness compare yourself to a devil?”
“I am a diplomatist,” modestly retorted the monk, “with wolves I howl like a wolf. Dissimulation is not only recommended by political teachers, but by God Himself; as a fisherman hides the hook with a worm, so did the Lord hide His Spirit in the flesh of His Son, and casting His line into the world’s pool, outdid and caught Satan the Fiend. Intrigue of divine wisdom! Heavenly diplomacy!”
“May I ask you, Holy Father, do you believe in God?” Again the Tsarevitch eyed him narrowly.
“How can a country be without a Church, and the Church without God?” And then with a strange simper, half timid, half insolent, he added: “But you, too, Alexis Petrovitch, are not a fool; you are more intelligent than your father, the Tsar; though he is clever, yet he does not know men; we often used to lead him by the nose. You will be a better judge of men.” And suddenly he stooped and kissed Alexis’ hand so quickly and adroitly that the latter had no time to pull it away; only a shudder passed through him.
Though he could not help feeling that the monk’s flattery was only honey on a knife, yet the honey was sweet.
He blushed, and in order to conceal his confusion, he continued with feigned curtness: “Be careful, father, and don’t over-reach yourself. The pitcher goes to the well till it breaks. As a cat tries to scratch a bear, so you dare my father; but suppose the bear objects, and, turning round, crushes you, where will you be then?”
The monk’s face fell, contracted, his eyes dilated, and looking round to ascertain that no one was standing behind him, he began to whisper in a hurried, disjointed, as it were feverish whisper:—
“Ah! your Highness, it is bad enough as it is, I always had a feeling that he will kill me! When yet I was but a child I was brought to Moscow, together with other nobles; we were led into a hall and allowed to kiss the sovereign’s hand. I first went up to your uncle, the Tsar Ivan Alexeyevitch; but when I came to kiss Tsar Peter’s hand, such fear possessed me that my knees shook; I could hardly keep upright; and ever since I have had the feeling that I shall die by that hand.”