"I am so glad I have found you, Prince Ivan," said the boy breathlessly. "My grandfather thought you would like to see the benediction of the Czar with the holy picture. His friend, Pope Yefim, is to take part in the ceremony, and he says he can secure you a good place."
Ivan gladly accepted the offer; and in the short conversation that followed, the merchant's son was able to contribute materially to the information of his social superiors.
"Pope Yefim has seen a copy of the letter which the Patriarch wrote to the Czar," he said. "He was not able to come himself—for you know, gentlemen, he is nearly a hundred years old, much older than my grandfather—but he writes that it grieves him to the heart he cannot see the face of his sovereign—that face which is to him 'as the face of Christ.'"
Neither speaker nor hearers were startled by the expression which to us seems to border on the profane. But the profanity was unintentional, and the passionate loyalty utterly sincere.
Feodor went on—"He has sent him the sacred picture of St. Sergius, from the Troitza monastery. You know, gentlemen, that is the picture which the Czar Alexis and the great Czar Peter carried into battle, and it always gave them the victory. Though, my grandfather says, it is not the holy picture that gives the victory, or even the holy saint, but God himself."
"Thy grandfather seems to be a wise man," said Yakovlef. "But I wonder what the Czar himself thinks of the matter. People used to call him very enlightened, quite a philosopher, a disciple at heart of Voltaire and Diderot. I warrant me they are right, and he believes little enough."
The last remark was intended for the nobles, but it reached the ear of Feodor, who, to every one's surprise, both understood and answered it.
"The Czar," he said reverently, "must believe very much in
