“They are angry,” Pierrot replied, lowering his voice as if he fancied that one of them was under the table; “they do not love the Czarina Natalia’s relations and--” Pierrot glanced cautiously over his shoulder; “the Czarevna Sophia has been trying to influence them for the Czarevitch Ivan. There are twenty-two regiments, and only one of them is favorable to the young czar.” “All that seems to be apparent enough, Pierrot,” I remarked quietly. “That is not all, M. le Vicomte,” he said eagerly; “they are plotting against the Department of the Streltsi; they hate both the Princes Dolgoruky and their own officers. It is rumored to-day that there will be a riot if something is not done, and if there is!” Pierrot lifted his eyes and hands, a picture of horror. “What will be the consequence?” I asked, though I knew well enough, and it took the relish away from my supper. “If the officers are not sacrificed,” Pierrot said in a dreadful undertone, “they will have blood, and it will be the boyars, perhaps the Czarevitch Peter.” “The czar, you mean,” I corrected testily, for I knew that he was touching the truth very nearly. “They will not dare to harm him.” Pierrot shook his head gloomily. “You have not heard them, M. le Vicomte,” he said in a tone of melancholy pity for my credulity; “they are after blood, like wolves; and if it comes to that, there will not be a house safe for a boyar to hide in Moscow!” I pushed back my chair and rose from the table with an angry gesture. “You forget, Pierrot,” I said tartly, “that these men were born to obey; they cannot resist the imperial authority.” I said it more for my own comfort than for his conviction, for I was sick at heart, and could think of nothing but the young girl in the house of a boyar who was both feared and despised. Meanwhile, Pierrot had the air of not desiring to contradict his superior, even in his folly,--an air peculiar to Pierrot, and especially irritating. “The Russians are very bloodthirsty, M. le Vicomte,” he said, by way of a mild remonstrance, “and there is no one now at the head of the government but a boy and a woman.” “There is a great deal of awe felt of a czar, my good Pierrot,” I replied lightly, “and presently they will have the chancellor back again; and you know the Streltsi once took stones from the graves of their fathers to build him a house.” But Pierrot still continued to shake his head with aggravating solemnity. CHAPTER VII. A CZAR’S FUNERAL.