"Ilias, did you see the comet?"
"I saw it, your Majesty."
"Do you know that the comet is the forerunner of misfortune and mourning? Ah, well! The Lord's will be done!"
And he gave orders to drive to the noisy city.
People told each other that the Czar was about to take a long journey; whither was not known. He intended taking the Czarina away from the inclement climate of the capital to more genial skies; whither he had as yet told no one. He was himself going first, to secure quarters. Whenever he undertook a long journey it was his custom to hear the Veni Sancte in the Church of the Holy Virgin of Kasan. It was his own church; he had built it, and had had it consecrated, and from its threshold he would get into his travelling carriage. The entire body of the clergy would await him there betimes, wearing their richest vestments; his favorite choir, too, would be in attendance, to sing the collects. And the murmuring capital whispered to itself, when once priests, Czar, and Grand Dukes were collected together in the Church of the Holy Virgin of Kasan: suddenly, at the invocation, "Come, Holy Ghost!" a determined man would start up from the crypt below, and, presenting a loaded pistol, would say, "Come down, then, to him!" And straightway church, holy images, Czar, Grand Dukes, priests, and choristers would be blown into the sky. An awful thought!
Perhaps to be realized. Perhaps already for days past some bold spirit—one of the Irreconcilables—has been crouching below in the crypt, the coffins filled with gunpowder, waiting for the signal of the bell which calls the faithful together to carry out the awful deed which shall overturn a mighty empire. The fatality was prevented—forbidden by the ashes of the dead.
The next day, at early morning, the Czar was not driven to the Church of the Holy Virgin of Kasan, where the richly clad Metropolitan awaited him, but to the Chapel of Alexander Nevski, where an ascetic attired in black, the "Simnik," advanced to conduct him to the mass for the dead.
An official paper has categorically described this ceremony. How the Czar knelt before the Icons; how the protopope Seraphim placed the New Testament upon his head, lying prostrate in the dust; how the Ruler of All the Russias did penance in the poor Simnik's cell, and how the Simnik told him of the degeneracy of the people. The account being authentic, it, of course, does not contain a single word that is not true.
A very different reason was it that had brought the Czar within those walls. Here rested the ashes of his three dead daughters, side by side—for he had had Sophie's remains brought here secretly. And it was these three children, deep down in the earth as they were, who combined to save their father, calling him to their calm, secure resting-place.
What had the father to say to his dead? The walls alone can make reply. Official report is silent.