"Ha, ha, ha! That's a good one—the Czarevitch! No, my friend, he is much obliged; he would rather not sit on the throne! You don't catch me wearing Ivan's diamond crown!"
"Why not, your Highness?"
"Because I prefer to see your ribbon across your back than about my throat!"
Czar Paul had been strangled by his adjutant's ribbon.
"What are you thinking of, your Highness?"
"Of my father—and of my people. I should be a pretty fellow for the St. Petersburgers! Last year, when my illustrious brother the Czar, thinking himself in a bad way, was graciously pleased to command my presence, and I repaired to the capital, Hui! there was a panic! They began to take steps to appoint me his successor. As soon as I showed my face in the streets they were cleared in a trice. People took refuge in doorways rather than salute me. Ah! how they flocked into the churches! The sacristan had never had so many kopecs in his alms-bag as while I was in St. Petersburg. The priests almost dragged the angels by the feet out from heaven in their fervent supplications for the Czar's recovery. They sketched a caricature of my profile, with my huge nose, at every street corner, with all manner of slanders beneath it! And when it pleased Providence to restore my imperial brother so far that he could drive out again, there were rejoicings. The people thronged round his carriage, hardly allowing the horses room to plant their feet, and almost buried him under flowers. And all this to show their hatred to me. Not that they loved him, but because they dreaded me. You just now said that even he is surrounded on all sides by assassins; but the difference is that they would despatch him to heaven, me to hell. They believe they would find in me the son of my father—a man with iron hand for their iron necks, as was my sainted father."
"And that is what they need! The Russian's iron neck only bends to the hand of iron."
"Well, let them have it; but Heaven preserve me from them, and them from me!"
"But every true man sets his hopes upon your Highness!"
"Eh! Time enough for that. But why are we talking such folly? Why should I survive him? I am but eighteen months his junior. Fill your glass. Long life to my brother his Majesty, the Czar! And what else brings you hither? We will speak no more of that."