The face of Nicholas clouded instantly; his expression was gloomy and severe.
"Take charge of this man yourself and without allowing him to communicate with any one, conduct him immediately to Siberia. Let him not be harshly treated, but let him never again appear in Europe."
The aide-de-camp, as well as the unhappy feld jaguer, were both to set out, without even changing their boots, for this journey of 2000 leagues. The aide-de-camp returned eight months afterward, and was recompensed by promotion from the emperor, but the poor courier was doubtless dying or dead in the neighborhood of Tobolsk, such faults as his having escaped an amnesty.
Such instances (I witnessed the one I am about to relate) were not rare in the life of Nicholas. One morning in the spring, when a freshet of the Neva had rendered its crossing extremely perilous, the emperor, on looking from the window of his Winter Palace, saw a large crowd watching, in evident stupefaction, a man directing himself, by leaps from one piece of ice to another, toward the opposite shore.
He called his attendant aide-de-camp.
"Look at that fool," said he. "What courage! Run and see what motive he has for so exposing his life."
The aide-de-camp learned the particulars and returned.
"Sire, he is a peasant who has bet he would cross the Neva for twenty-five roubles, and is trying to gain the reward."
"Give him twenty-fire lashes," replied Nicholas; "a man who risks his life in this miserable way would be capable of anything for money."