“The Tsarevitch has always ardently desired to rule,” she began, in a quick decisive tone as though repeating something which she had learnt by heart. “He ran away because your Majesty was supposed to be trying to kill him by some means or other. When he learnt that your youngest son, the Tsarevitch Peter Petrovitch, was ill, he said, to me: ‘You see my father takes his own course, while God wills another.’ He also counted upon the Senators: ‘I will turn out all the old ones and replace them by new ones, of my own choice! And whenever he heard tell of prophetic visions, or read in the journals that all was quiet in Petersburg, he used to say that these visions and this tranquillity were significant: ‘Either my father will die, or a rebellion will break out——’.” She continued to speak for some length of time; she repeated expressions of his which he no longer remembered to have used, and she laid bare his innermost thoughts, thoughts which he had not even dared to confess to himself. “When Tolstoi arrived in Naples, the Tsarevitch wished to give up the Emperor and place himself under the protection of the Pope. It was I who kept him back from doing so,” concluded Afrossinia.
“Is all this true?” Peter asked his son.
“It is,” answered the Tsarevitch.
“You may go now, Afrossinia. Thank you!”
The Tsar gave her his hand: she kissed it, and turned away to leave the room.
“Afrossinia! Afrossinia!” stammered the Tsarevitch, with a convulsive movement of his whole body towards her, and as if unconscious of what he was saying “Farewell, Afrossinia! Perhaps we shall never meet again. The Lord be with you!”
She neither answered nor gave him a look.
“Why do you treat me like this?” he added in a very low tone. There was no reproach in his voice, only infinite astonishment. He buried his face in his hands, and heard the door close behind her.
Peter made a pretence of reading some papers, but he glanced furtively from time to time at his son. He seemed slightly moved and expectant.
It was the calmest hour of the night, and the calm seemed all the more intense, for it was as light as day.