At this question, the man with the pipe eyed the interrogator from head to foot and, astounded that such an ordinary looking traveller should dare to speak with that familiarity to a man of his importance (especially in Russia, where differences in rank place a great gulf between superiors and inferiors), he went on puffing at his pipe, and snapped out-- "The road to the right." The emperor understood, and respected the reason for his haughty indignation. "Forgive me, monsieur," he said, touching his cap, as he went up to the man with the pipe, "may I ask one more question ...?" "What is it?" "May I ask your rank in the army?" "Guess it." "Well ... perhaps Monsieur is a lieutenant?" "Higher." "A captain?" "Higher still." "Major?" "Go on." "Commandant of a battalion?" "Yes, and I didn't gain it save by hard work!..." The emperor bowed. "And now," said the man with the pipe, persuaded that he was talking to an inferior, "who are you, my good man?" "Guess," replied the emperor, in his turn. "Lieutenant?" "Higher." "Captain?" "Higher still." "Major?" "Go on." "Commandant of a battalion?" "Try again." The questioner drew his pipe out of his mouth. "Colonel?" "You haven't got it yet." The man stood up and assumed a more respectful attitude. "Your excellency is a lieutenant-general, perhaps?" "You are getting nearer." "Then your Highness must be a field-marshal?" "Have one more guess, Commandant." "His Imperial Majesty!" exclaimed the stupefied questioner, letting his pipe fall and breaking it in pieces. "Exactly so," Alexander replied, with a smile. "Ah! sire," cried the officer, clasping his hands together, "I entreat your forgiveness!" "Oh! what the deuce is there to forgive?" said Alexander. "I asked you to tell me the way and you told me. Thank you." And the emperor, waving his hand to the poor stupefied commandant, took the road on his right and was soon caught up by his carriage. On another occasion also, when he was travelling (for the life of Alexander the son of Paul was spent like that of Alexander the son of Philip, in perpetual journeyings), while crossing a lake in the department of Archangel, the emperor was overtaken by a violent gale. Alexander was of a melancholy temperament, and the melancholy grew upon him, so he would oftener than not travel quite alone. He was thus alone in a boat with only the boatman, and the waves of the lake, lashed by the tempest, rose high and threatened to swamp them.