On the following day the Emperor and Platoff went to the museum. The Emperor took none of the other Russians with him, because he had been provided only with a two-seated carriage.[6]

They drive up to a smallish building—the entrance indescribable, corridors stretching out interminably, and a row of chambers one after another, and, at last, in the chief hall of all, divers huge busts, and in the centre, under a canopy, stands the Abolo Polveder.[7]

The Emperor casts a glance at Platoff, to see whether he is much amazed, and what he is gazing at, but Platoff is walking along with downcast eyes as though he beholds nothing, and is merely twisting his mustaches into rings.

The Englishmen immediately begin to exhibit divers marvels and explain to what ends they are adapted in military matters—sea buremeters, mamel's hair mantals of the infantry regiments,[8] and for the cavalry tarred waterproofs. All this delights the Emperor greatly—everything seems to him very good, but Platoff preserves his apathy, and nothing has any significance in his opinion.

The Emperor says: "How is this possible—why is there such unfeelingness in thee? Is there really nothing here that astonishes thee?"

And Platoff replies: "One thing only here astonishes me, that my dashing lads of the Don made war without all this and conquered a dozen nations."

The Emperor says: "This is folly."

Platoff replies: "I know not to what to attribute it, but I dare not to dispute and must needs hold my tongue."

But the Englishmen, beholding such a discussion between him and the Emperor, immediately led them to the Abolo Polveder himself, and took from one of his hands a Mortimer gun, and from the other a pistol.[9]

"Here," said they, "this is the sort of manufactures we have," and they gave him the gun.

The Emperor gazed calmly on the Mortimer gun, because he has such in Tzarskoe Selo,[10] and then they gave him the pistol, and said: "This pistol is of unknown, inimitable workmanship—our Admiral plucked it from the belt of a bandit chief in Candelabria."

The Emperor looked at the pistol, and could not tear his eyes from it. He gave vent to terrible "ahs!"

"Ah, ah, ah!" says he, "what a weapon is this!... how is it possible to work so delicately?" And he turns to Platoff and says in Russian: "There now, if I had but one such artisan in Russia, I should be extremely happy and proud, and I would instantly make that man a noble."

But the very minute Platoff hears these words, he thrusts his hands into his voluminous trousers and draws thence a gunsmith's screw-driver.

"This does not unscrew," say the Englishmen. But he, paying no heed, picks away at the lock. He gives it one turn, he gives it another,—and takes out the lock. Platoff shows the catch to the Emperor, and there, on the curve, stands a Russian inscription: "Ivan Moskvin in the town of Tula."

The Englishmen marvelled, and nudged one another: "Oh, alas! we have blundered!"

But the Emperor says sadly to Platoff: "Why hast thou covered them with such confusion? Now I am very sorry for them. Let us go."

They took their places again in the same two-seated carriage, and drove away; and that day the Emperor went to a ball, but Platoff gulped down a still mightier bumper of kizil vodka, and slept a mighty Cossack sleep.

He rejoiced that he had put the Englishmen to confusion, and had placed the Tula artisan in the proper light, but he was also vexed. Why had the Emperor felt pity for the Englishmen on such an occasion?

"For what reason did the Emperor grieve?" thought Platoff. "I don't understand it at all;" and, engaged in this meditation, he twice arose, crossed himself, and drank vodka until, by sheer force, he brought upon himself a profound sleep.

But the Englishmen were not asleep at that time, either, because their heads were whirling round with dizziness. While the Emperor was enjoying himself at the ball, they prepared for him such a fresh marvel that they deprived Platoff of all his fantasy.