Alexander had several legitimate grievances against the French Dictator. In the matter of his sister, the Grand Duchess Anna Pavlovna, he considered that he had been slighted; for Napoleon had displayed too obvious a readiness to end the negotiations for his marriage with the Russian Princess, and this savoured of a lack of respect towards her Imperial brother's Throne and person. In the matter of Oldenburg, too, Napoleon had grievously offended. The Grand Duchy of Oldenburg, though not precisely a portion of the Russian Empire, dwelt under the protection of the Tsar; his own sister Catherine was married to the reigning Duke, yet France had lately annexed the little State, whose sovereign, with his Imperial wife, had been forced to take shelter in St. Petersburg. In addition to these semi-personal matters, there was an open sore in Poland; and again, the arbitrary demands of the Dictator that trade with England should be boycotted by the Continent generally, stuck obstinately in the gullet of the sturdy Russian Tsar, whose merchants knew where lay the best market for their hemp, their hides, their tallow and wheat. There was stir and excitement at the Embassies. Kurakin, the Ambassador in Paris, and Demidof, Vera's father, his principal secretary, were busy from morning to night, interviewing, explaining, bargaining, smoothing and glossing the sturdy obstinacy of their own sovereign, which, while they pretended professionally to deplore it, they secretly admired and applauded. Tchernishef, the Ambassador Extraordinary of the Tsar, arrived and was received in private audience by Napoleon. He brought with him the offer of certain concessions with regard to Oldenburg in exchange for counter-concessions in Poland. But the Dictator was obdurate; he would have surrender, not traffic. "Not a mill, not a village of Poland will I give your master," said he; "tell him so; it is my last word." It was Alexander's last word also, and seeing that his great opponent intended war, the Tsar began to make his preparations for defence. The ambassadors in Paris and their secretaries and attachés packed up their traps and held themselves ready for departure. To Vera the whole matter was a source of unmitigated grief. In common with every patriotic Russian of the day, her soul revolted against the wanton injustice of Napoleon, and swelled in a suddenly awakened passion of patriotic love and enthusiasm for her own country. Napoleon and his Grand Army were of course invincible; Russia must suffer defeat, ruin maybe; the lives of her sons must go out in rivers of innocent blood. "It is cruel and horrible," Vera cried, speaking of all this with her cousins the D'Estrevilles; "horrible because utterly useless and unjust. Does your Emperor think he will reach Moscow?"