The Tsarevitch lay unconscious; his mind was wandering, he did not recognise anybody.
Suddenly he opened his eyes and stared at Father Matthew.
“Who are you?”
“The priest of the garrison, Father Matthew. I have been sent to receive your confession.”
“To receive my confession? Why do you bear a calf’s head on your shoulder?—— and shaggy hair upon that moon face of yours, and horns upon your forehead?”
Father Matthew remained silent, his eyes fixed on the ground.
“Do you desire to confess, my lord Tsarevitch,” he asked at last with a timid hope that the Tsarevitch would refuse.
“Are you acquainted, Father, with the Tsar’s ukase, by which all treason or seditious plot, of which confession has been made to a priest, has to be revealed to the secret chancery?”
“I know it, your Highness.”
“And should I reveal to you something of this kind in my confession would you betray me?”