Prince Paul. Sire, you are anticipating history. This is Count Petouchof, your new ambassador to Berlin. He is come to kiss hands on his appointment.
Czar. To kiss my hand? There is some plot in it. He wants to poison me. There, kiss my son’s hand; it will do quite as well.
(Prince Paul signs to Count Petouchof to leave the room. Exit Petouchof and the guards. Czar sinks down into his chair. The courtiers remain silent.) Prince Paul (approaching). Sire! will your Majesty —
Czar. What do you startle me like that for? No, I won’t. (Watches the courtiers nervously.) Why are you clattering your sword, sir? (To Count Rouvaloff.) Take it off, I shall have no man wear a sword in my presence (looking at Czarevitch), least of all my son. (To Prince Paul.) You are not angry with me, Prince? You won’t desert me, will you? Say you won’t desert me. What do you want? You can have anything — anything.
Prince Paul (bowing very low). Sire, ‘tis enough for me to have your confidence. (Aside.) I was afraid he was going to revenge himself and give me another decoration.
Czar (returning to his chair). Well, gentlemen.
Marq. de Poiv. Sire, I have the honour to present to you a loyal address from your subjects in the Province of Archangel, expressing their horror at the last attempt on your Majesty’s life.
Prince Paul. The last attempt but two, you ought to have said, Marquis. Don’t you see it is dated three weeks back?
Czar. They are good people in the Province of Archangel — honest, loyal people. They love me very much — simple, loyal people; give them a new saint, it costs nothing. Well, Alexis (turning to the Czarevitch) — how many traitors were hung this morning?
Czare. There were three men strangled, Sire.
Czar. There should have been three thousand. I would to God that this people had but one neck that I might strangle them with one noose! Did they tell anything? whom did they implicate? what did they confess?
Czare. Nothing, Sire.
Czar. They should have been tortured then; why weren’t they tortured? Must I always be fighting in the dark? Am I never to know from what root these traitors spring?
Czare. What root should there be of discontent among the people but tyranny and injustice amongst their rulers?
Czar. What did you say, boy? tyranny! tyranny! Am I a tyrant? I’m not. I love the people. I’m their father. I’m called so in every official proclamation. Have a care, boy; have a care. You don’t seem to be cured yet of your foolish tongue. (Goes over to Prince Paul, and puts his hand on his shoulder.) Prince Paul, tell me were there many people there this morning to see the Nihilists hung?
Prince Paul. Hanging is of course a good deal less of a novelty in Russia now, Sire, than it was three or four years ago; and you know how easily the people get tired even of their best amusements. But the square and the tops of the houses were really quite crowded, were they not, Prince? (To the Czarevitch who takes no notice.)
Czar. That’s right; all loyal citizens should be there. It shows them what to look forward to. Did you arrest any one in the crowd?
Prince Paul. Yes, Sire, a woman for cursing your name. (The Czarevitch starts anxiously.) She was the mother of the two criminals.
Czar (looking at Czarevitch). She should have blessed me for having rid her of her children. Send her to prison.
Czare. The prisons of Russia are too full already, Sire. There is no room in them for any more victims.
She is sure to die on the way. (Czar. They don’t die fast enough, then. You should put more of them into one cell at once. You don’t keep them long enough in the mines. If you do they’re sure to die; but you’re all too merciful. I’m too merciful myself. Send her to Siberia.Enter an Aide-de-Camp.) Who’s that? Who’s that?
Aide-de-Camp. A letter for his Imperial Majesty.
Czar (to Prince Paul). I won’t open it. There may be something in it.
Prince Paul. It would be a very disappointing letter, Sire, if there wasn’t. (Takes letter himself, and reads it.)
Prince Petro. (to Count Rouvaloff). It must be some sad news. I know that smile too well.
Prince Paul. From the Chief of the Police at Archangel, Sire. “The Governor of the province was shot this morning by a woman as he was entering the courtyard of his own house. The assassin has been seized.”
Czar. I never trusted the people of Archangel. It’s a nest of Nihilists and conspirators. Take away their saints; they don’t deserve them.
Prince Paul. Your Highness would punish them more severely by giving them an extra one. Three governors shot in two months. (Smiles to himself.) Sire, permit me to recommend your loyal subject, the Marquis de Poivrard, as the new governor of your Province of Archangel.
Marq. de Poiv. (hurriedly). Sire, I am unfit for this post.
Prince Paul. Marquis, you are too modest. Believe me, there is no man in Russia I would sooner see Governor of Archangel than yourself. (Whispers to Czar.)
Czar. Quite right, Prince Paul; you are always right. See that the Marquis’s letters are made out at once.
Prince Paul. He can start tonight, Sire. I shall really miss you very much, Marquis. I always liked your taste in wines and wives extremely.
Marq. de Poiv. (to the Czar). Start tonight, Sire? (Prince Paul whispers to the Czar.)
Czar. Yes, Marquis, tonight; it is better to go at once.
Prince Paul. I shall see that Madame la Marquise is not too lonely while you are away; so you need not be alarmed for her.
Count R. (to Prince Petrovitch). I should be more alarmed for myself.
Czar. The Governor of Archangel shot in his own courtyard by a woman! I’m not safe here. I’m not safe anywhere, with that she devil of the revolution, Vera Sabouroff, here in Moscow. Prince Paul, is that woman still here?
Prince Paul. They tell me she was at the Grand Duke’s ball last night. I can hardly believe that; but she certainly had intended to leave for Novgorod to-day, Sire. The police were watching every train for her; but, for some reason or other, she did not go. Some traitor must have warned her. But I shall catch her yet. A chase after a beautiful woman is always exciting.
Czar. You must hunt her down with bloodhounds, and when she is taken I shall hew her limb from limb. I shall stretch her on the rack till her pale white body is twisted and curled like paper in the fire.
Prince Paul. Oh, we shall have another hunt immediately for her, Sire! Prince Alexis will assist us, I am sure.
Czare. You never require any assistance to ruin a woman, Prince Paul.
Czar. Vera, the Nihilist, in Moscow! O God, were it not better to die at once the dog’s death they plot for me than to live as I live now! Never to sleep, or, if I do, to dream such horrid dreams that Hell itself were peace when matched with them. To trust none but those I have bought, to buy none worth trusting! To see a traitor in every smile, poison in every dish, a dagger in every hand! To lie awake at night, listening from hour to hour for the stealthy creeping of the murderer, for the laying of the damned mine! You are all spies! you are all spies! You worst of all — you, my own son! Which of you is it who hides these bloody proclamations under my own pillow, or at the table where I sit? Which of ye all is the Judas who betrays me? O God! O God! methinks there was a time once, in