We were less pressed now, for the crowd was surging away towards the palace, shouting as it went. I examined my new acquaintance with curiosity. If his face had been less rugged and fierce it would have been handsome on the side that had escaped the disfiguring scar. It was a remarkable face: a keen eye, a large straight nose, a strong mouth, and an expression of relentless resolution,--a face that had had a past as dark, as cold, as grim as that close-shut mouth. My curiosity was excited. “A regent will have to be appointed,” I remarked, “during the minority of the czar.” He smiled grimly. “And who do you suppose it will be?” he asked, with a keen glance. “Custom points to the czarina,” I replied with a little hesitation. “And the Chancellor Matveief,” he added. I assumed surprise. “Matveief is an exile,” I exclaimed hastily. The Russian laughed. “The czarina is his dutiful and indebted ward,” he said. “He is no longer in Archangel but at Lukh, and a summons can reach him the easier. When a guardian has set you on a throne, you cannot be ungrateful. Why, man, where are your senses? What is all this shouting about? It is the Naryshkins. I forget, though, you are a foreigner.” “A poor gentleman,” I said at once; “a soldier of the king of France.” The Russian’s glance was following the crowd; whatever his thoughts, they were not pleasant, for his expression was gloomy and cynical. “You have witnessed a singular event in our history,” he said sternly; “you have seen the Moscovite rabble elect a czar. The younger son setting aside the first-born!” “The Czarevitch Ivan is said to be indifferent to the high office,” I replied, in a low tone; “he is blind.” “Ay, and deformed!” said the Russian, promptly. “Yet will the people of Russia demand the recognition of primogeniture. Court intrigues cannot prevail. What a flimsy pretext was this election! The States-General of Russia elected Michael Romanof; the Czar Shuisky fell because he was elected by Moscow alone; and this is not the Moscovite State, but the rabble of the city, and the retainers of the boyars![2] The Miloslavskys are down to-day, but who dares to predict for to-morrow?” [Footnote 2: An aristocratic order, next to the ruling princes. They held the highest military and civil offices. The title “boyar” was bestowed by the czar, and was not hereditary.] It was indeed a difficult problem, so bitter was the quarrel. The Miloslavskys were the relatives of the first wife of the Czar Alexis, the Naryshkins of his second; and, that day, the latter had succeeded in electing their candidate for the throne, Alexis’ youngest son Peter, setting aside Ivan, his half-brother, and the only surviving son of Alexis by his first wife, the Princess Marie Miloslavsky.