It appeared that Vera was recognised, and that one of the Streltsi officers spoke of having seen her at the DiÉvitchy monastery, though he said nothing of me or of the fight on the stairs and his own discomfiture. The report quickly reached the ears of the Boyar Kurbatof, who came in person and was received haughtily by the Mother Superior.

‘I have come for my daughter, who is detained by you without permission,’ said the Boyar.

‘This house is a privileged sanctuary,’ replied the good mother. ‘No man, not even a father, may exercise authority over those maidens who have espoused the service of Christ, renouncing the world and its vanities.’

‘But Vera has not done so. I am told that her hair is not yet shorn; she has taken no vows; therefore I demand her instant release.’

‘And I refuse it,’ said the brave mother.

‘I will tell you, reverend mother, why I demand the wench,’ said the Boyar, changing his attitude. ‘You, in your seclusion here, know little of what passes without. The Tsar Ivan chooses a bride, according to the customs and privileges of the Russian Tsars. Now, my daughter is virtually already chosen Tsaritsa, if only she choose to accept the honour. Think how great a position is this offered to her. Think only what this means, to be Tsaritsa. What power, what wealth shall be hers; how magnificently will she be able to reward those who have benefited her; how—for instance—she may favour this establishment and its head, multiplying your privileges and loading you with riches and every kind of favour.’

‘We are content as we are, Boyar, and we do not desire such worldly advancement as you describe. Touching this matter of the bride-choosing, the maiden would sooner die than be married against her will to the afflicted and unfortunate creature who, though less than a man, is nevertheless called Tsar of Russia.’

‘It is well that foolish maidens do not have the making of their own destiny: such things are left to those who have wisdom and experience.’

‘In this case a good choice has been made and cannot be unmade by force or authority. Therefore return, Boyar, whence you came; for be sure you shall not find Vera.’

The Boyar, finding that he could make no impression upon the mother by entreaty and the promise of great rewards, next had recourse to violence, threatening the wrath of the Regent—to whom he would now, he said, carry this matter—and I know not what besides. But he gained no more by threats than he had profited by promises, and in the end the Boyar returned without his daughter.

But on the second day a worse thing happened than the visit of an angry Boyar.

For the Regent Sophia arrived in person, bringing with her a bishop of high degree and a guard of several soldiers.

Kurbatof had, it appeared, actually carried out his threat and had complained at Court that his daughter Vera, the destined bride of the Tsar, was a prisoner at the DiÉvitchy monastery. The Regent came in anger and indignation.

‘What is this?’ she cried, storming at the good mother. ‘What is this I hear of thee? To give sanctuary to one whom the Tsar would choose for his wife, and against the will of her father? Thou takest too much upon thee, woman. Art thou so great, being chief among many silly women, that thou knowest not there are some greater than thou?’

‘All this I know and recognise, Highness,’ said the old woman, humbly. ‘Outside these walls thy brother the Tsar, together with thyself, is as God; but within we render the first service to God and His Christ, even though His will should be in opposition to that of the Tsar.’

‘Vzdor, nonsense! What knowest thou of the mind of God? thou knowest it no more than I. A silly maiden is fearful of the splendid destiny offered her, and thou must needs set down her timidity to the will of God. Be sure it is better to obey the will of the Tsar, of which you may be certain, than invent for thyself the interventions of the Almighty, whose mind thou understandest no more than I. Come, where is this wench?’

‘She has claimed sanctuary, Highness. I will not produce her except I be compelled by force.’

‘So—then take her keys, men: you are a fool, woman, and should know when it is wiser to yield than to be firm!’

‘While I am head in this place the only wisdom is to act according to my conscience, since my simple desire is to serve God. You will not gain, Madam, by using me thus. I foresee the day when you yourself shall flee for refuge to this sanctuary.’

‘Indeed? Well, I will tell thee what I foresee, and the prophecy shall not be long in the fulfilling. Thy rule shall end this day—nay, it has ended now; have you the keys there? Open the great door, then; follow, you; we shall set in your place a wiser, if we can find one in this community of lack-wits!’

The procession then entered the monastery, where they found nuns and postulants at their dinner in the refectory, and among them Vera, who had expected no such visitors, or she would have hidden herself.

‘There she sits,’ said the Regent, kindly enough. ‘Come, little frightened dove, that flew from the nest for fear of fowlers. Look not so frightened, we are neither fowlers nor birds of prey; we wish thee no evil, but great good. Come, the Tsar awaits thee and will choose thee for Tsaritsa if thou put not on that scared look!’

Poor Vera glanced at the Superior, who followed behind her Highness, but the old woman shook her head; tears were in her eyes, and she sobbed as she said, ‘Nay, child, I can do no more for thee; they have broken into this House of Peace. I am no longer in authority here.’

‘Mind not what this hag says,’ said Sophia. ‘She has forgotten that she is no less a subject of the Tsar than any other in the land who would also serve the Almighty; she has given thee evil counsel, but she shall lead no others astray. Come—I weary of talking—get thee ready, for thou shalt go with us to the Tsar.’

‘Madam,’ said Vera faintly, ‘I desire to remain here. I have no wish to——’

‘Enough—take her up, men——’

And Vera was then and there seized and borne shrieking away to the terem, where many notable things happened, which shall presently be set down. But before she departed from the monastery the Regent chose a new Superior, recognising one among the nuns whom she had known well before-time. Her she placed in the old mother’s seat, compelling the latter to take up a position at the bottom of the table, whereat sat humbly the non-professed sisters and the postulants of the community, as though she had only that day entered upon the religious life—the latest of all those present, instead of the first and the most respected and beloved.

And I lay senseless as a log while all this passed, little knowing or guessing the perils which compassed me about. For what if the Regent had sought Vera, first, in the little locked ante-room wherein I lay, and had there found me—a hawk in this doves’ nest! But by the mercy of the Highest and the wit of that good woman, the mother, I was spared this misfortune. For I was afterwards told that when one of the Regent’s men inquired of the Superior what room was this, and whether the escaped maiden were here, the mother replied that this was the hospital room. ‘I swear she is not there,’ she said, ‘and it is useless to disturb those who are within the chamber; they are sick, and need repose.’

Be sure that when I returned to consciousness and learned all these things I could lie no longer in peace. Very quickly my wounds mended—for they were but flesh-cuts, and my banged head was the worst matter of all!—and within a week of the fight I insisted upon going forth once again, which I did in spite of the tears and entreaties of my good old friend, the late Superior, and of another who had nursed me.

‘Let me go,’ I said, ‘for I shall recover the sooner when my mind is at ease and I can see and hear for myself what is passing without.’

‘Promise thou wilt get into no more brawls until thou art well and wholly recovered?’ said the mother. And this I promised, leaving the good woman, however, in tears of distress. ‘For, said she, ‘thou art pale and worn and not fit for fighting and for scheming, and yet how else is Vera to be served?’

‘Dost think I shall attack the Tsar’s palace single-handed, good mother?’ I asked, laughing. But she shook her head and answered nothing, except to make over me the sign of the Cross and to mumble a prayer as I left the chamber.