Meanwhile a significant thing happened with regard to her who was generally believed to be as good as chosen beforehand to be Tsaritsa.

A sight to make angels weep and devils smile was it, men said, when Vera Kurbatof—before the great choosing, and I think before the assemblage even of the maidens—was summoned to the palace in order that the bridegroom Tsar (forsooth!) might first see her at his leisure and without the excitement of a throng around him.

There were two or three other maidens besides Vera who were thus, like her, subjected to a preliminary and private inspection by Ivan. These were the daughters of Boyars whose position at Court brought them constantly into the presence of the Tsar, and whom he therefore knew well and could meet and speak to without overmuch timidity and shyness. These Boyars, by Sophia’s decree, should have the first chance for their daughters; for it was hoped that Ivan might more readily take a fancy to the child of one whom he already knew than to some stranger.

‘He will never take a fancy,’ some said, laughing, ‘for there is nothing of a man in him.’

But others declared that he had gazed twice at this maiden or that, and some knew—among whom was I—that his eyes had rested in a peculiar manner upon the face of Vera on a certain occasion—in a manner, indeed, which would seem to indicate more of the man in Ivan that some believed to exist.

The question was, did he remember his old-time fancy for her face, or was it so passing and passionless a sentiment that he had forgotten it during the score of months that had gone by since that day on which I had observed it?

I have heard from those who were present that his most gracious and most unmanlike Highness took no notice whatever of the daughters of those faithful Boyars who lived about the Court, excepting to curse this one and strike and spit at that one, and to burst into tears and upbraid his sister when brought in to see and consider a third.

But the interview with Vera was a different matter and a thing to be spoken of by itself. Here is a description of her visit, as told to me by one who saw it with his own eyes!—a scene, as I have said, to make angels weep!

Vera was sent for without notice and without information as to the object of her visit.

‘I have sent for you, child,’ said the Regent very kindly, ‘because I am favourably impressed by your appearance: you are certainly as fair as any of the maidens yet arrived, and it is possible that a great, a supreme honour may be in store for you.’

Vera hung her head, abashed: she would have renounced all claim to the honour implied, but she durst not.

‘I see you are overcome by the thought of this greatness,’ continued Sophia, taking the girl’s hand and patting it within her own. ‘Take heart, child, for indeed you would make as fair a Tsaritsa as we could wish to see.’

‘Oh, I dare not, I cannot, Highness,’ murmured poor Vera. ‘I am not the stuff of which Tsaritsas should be made: I have no ambition.’

‘Then begin now to take a larger view of life. Listen, it has been whispered me that his Highness my brother looks kindlier upon you than upon any other maiden that he has yet seen: there, sweet one, does not that awaken thy slumbering fancy? He is a great king—remember this—though, to say truth, but an afflicted youth. Do not lose sight of the greater issue by foolishly magnifying the lesser. The Tsar is the Tsar, whether he be lusty or afflicted; a handsome youth or, by the will of God, a pale invalid. Tell me, are you great enough to love the Tsar for his greatness, which you would share as Tsaritsa?’

Vera hung her head and remained silent.

‘Speak, girl!’ said Sophia, a little less kindly than before.

‘Madam, having seen so little of the Tsar and—and oh, Madam, how should I love him? I revere him, as Tsar and head of the Boyars, but to love is different.’

‘Well, well, fool; in order to marry wisely it is not always necessary to love. Love yourself, that is the first thing; if you truly love yourself you should seek your own good: is not that fair logic? What better thing can a maiden have than to be chosen Tsaritsa? I say there is no better destiny for a maiden under Heaven!’

‘To love and to be loved is the best, Madam, for some,’ said Vera, hesitating.

‘Tut, fool!—love does not wear for long. A high position and power—these are the lasting blessings, and they carry love with them—yes, and every other good thing besides. Moreover, if to love and to be loved is for you the be-all and end-all, let him love you, for his part, say I; and as for you—if you cannot love him, love whom you will!’

‘Madam!’ exclaimed Vera, and was about to say I know not what indiscreet thing, when the laughter of the two or three who were present, in which Sophia herself joined, interrupted her. Vera flushed deeply, but remained silent.

‘Well, child, speak,’ said the Regent; ‘why are you dumb?’

‘I have nothing to say, Highness. I have been used to see things otherwise than as your Highness would now teach me!’

‘The way of wisdom, little fool, is to accept thankfully the gifts which the gods provide,’ said Sophia, ‘whether it be a lover or position or anything else that is good. Here you have greatness offered you: that is, it might be offered you if you should play your cards wisely; also love, of a kind!’ she ended with a quick glance at Galitsin and the others.

Galitsin laughed aloud, but turned aside to hide it.

‘I wish for neither, Madam,’ said Vera boldly.

‘Well, Lord bless us, little fool!’ exclaimed Sophia, waxing impatient. ‘We are all subjects, both you and I and all of us, and as such bound to obey the Tsar whether we will or not: you admit that much, I doubt not. What if the Tsar desires thee—is he not to be obeyed because thou art a fool? Dear Saints! beware what you do, girl! To stand against the Tsar himself and to resist his will is the worst of all foolishness!’

‘Madam, have pity!’ said Vera, falling on her knees.

The Regent bustled her quickly to her feet. ‘I,’ she exclaimed, ‘what have I to do with the matter? It is not I that choose a bride, but the Tsar. If he choose thee, it is thou that art greatly honoured, not I! Stand upon thy feet, and shame not thyself before these men. Send for the Tsar, Galitsin, and let us have this comedy played and done with.’ Poor Vera fell a second time to her knees.

‘Madam, he will not make his choice here and now? You would not permit it—he must see all—there are many fairer than I and more fitted to be Tsaritsa—— Oh, do not let him come near me now!’

‘Peace, raver, and let me speak!’ replied Sophia grimly. ‘His Highness will not make his final choice here and now; but he shall see thee because it is said that he has shown a preference for thee. It is necessary that he take a wife, understand it or understand it not; it is necessary for the dynasty. Very well, if he will choose for himself, so much the better for all parties; if he will not, so much the worse; but in any case he will marry, and, if necessary, the choosing shall be done for him.’

Then in came Galitsin, and with him—angry to be disturbed, and asking querulously the reason—Ivan the Tsar. The Prince was in full speech when he entered the room, but when his eye fell upon Vera he became suddenly silent. He gazed at her fixedly for a moment, opening his mouth and shutting it again. Then be turned to his sister.

‘Why have you sent for me? it is not a reception,’ he said. ‘I will not see strangers without Peter; Peter is not here.’ Then his eyes sought Vera’s face once more and remained fixed there.

‘There are no strangers, Ivashka,’ said Sophia; ‘and there is no reception; only this beautiful maiden is come to show thee how fair she is—look well at her.’

‘She is fair enough,’ said Ivan; ‘but I care for no woman. I will not marry, Sophia; do not worry me.’

‘Ah, but how different is this one from the rest, only see, Ivashka—what eyes, what hair! had ever maiden such a form?—mark it well! She should sit at thy side when foreigners come, and should speak to them instead of thee! A fair thing to have for ever about one! Happy the man who may, if he will, possess her to gaze upon and to fondle for his own. Come, take her hand, Ivashka, and kiss it. She shall be thine own if thou wilt have her.’

The Tsar’s face had flushed during this speech. At the end of it he actually took the girl’s hand in his own, smiling in her face, or leering, as perhaps it might more accurately be called. He even began to raise her fingers as though to bring them to his lips, but at his touch Vera paled, staggered, and would have fallen fainting to the ground or into the Tsar’s arms, but that Galitsin caught her and laid her senseless form upon a divan.

‘See!’ said Sophia triumphantly: ‘she is overcome, brother, by the honour and the happiness thou hast done her in thus noticing her beauty above the others. Thou hast chosen well, my soul——’

‘I have not chosen her—I have not, I say,’ cried Ivan, stamping his foot and turning upon the Regent. ‘Why do you speak foolishness? I want no woman. She is afraid of me; do you think I do not see it? She might have suited, if I must marry, but she is afraid of me and hates me.’

‘Not so, not so, brother: only think, for a maiden to be chosen Tsaritsa is no small thing; no wonder that she has fainted in the sudden joy—— ’

‘Sister, you are sometimes a fool, though generally very wise,’ said Ivan. ‘Be silent, I say, and speak no more foolishness!’ With which words he turned and left the room, glancing back for a moment at Vera lying unconscious upon her divan.

Thereupon Sophia stamped and swore first, and then laughed, while Galitsin only laughed, and the two other witnesses—being courtiers—knew not whether to laugh or to look grave, and so the comedy ended.

A sight indeed to make angels weep!