A dialogue ensued, which I give on the authority of Michelsen, who may be safely trusted. “Pray,” said Nicholas, eyeing him with humorous curiosity, “in the name of all the saints, who are you, and where do you come from?”
“May it please your Majesty, I have the honour to be your Majesty’s faithful subject, Save Saveitch Yakovloff.”
“Indeed!” replied the Emperor, with much gravity, “we are enchanted to have the opportunity of making your acquaintance, Save Saveitch. Oblige us by just stepping up, and take a seat beside us.”
Yakovloff slyly dropped the cudgel, and, not without some misgiving, took his seat.
“But stop,” said the Emperor, when they had driven on a little way, “where is your stick, Save Saveitch?”
“Never mind the stick, your Majesty.”
“But I do mind it, Save Saveitch Yakovloff.” The carriage was turned back, the cudgel picked up, and orders were given to drive on straight to the Winter Palace. When there, the Emperor alighted and made a signal to his alarmed fellow-traveller to follow. “O Save Saveitch,” said he sarcastically, “pray do not take off your cloak! we must have you—hat, stick, cloak and all.” The Emperor led the way to the apartments of the Empress.
“Pray, my dear,” inquired he, “do you know this animal?”
“No,” replied the Empress, unable to repress a laugh at the strange figure before her.
“Then allow me to inform you this is our faithful subject Save Saveitch Yakovloff. What do you think of him?” said Nicholas, turning him round, “is not he a pretty fellow?”