“Our brother, the Czar Feodor, has departed from this life,” she said. “His enemies have poisoned him. Be merciful unto us orphans, for we are desolate. Our brother Ivan has not been elected czar, and we have no one to protect us. We are innocent; but if you and the boyars wish to be rid of us, let us go to other lands, where we can have the protection of Christian kings.” CHAPTER VIII. THE ASSASSIN. WHEN it was too late to prevent the consequences, the Naryshkins realized the effect of the Czarevna Sophia’s presence at the funeral of Feodor. Her passionate appeal to the people was in the nature of a _coup d’état_, and who could measure the results? For days, rumors had been afloat that the late czar had been poisoned, and the ignorant populace, always only too ready to credit such accusations, accepted Sophia’s bold declaration as a confirmation of every story, and the ugly skeleton of murder stalked out of the imperial closet. The crowd had surged about the czarevna in a violent manifestation of loyalty and the unfortunate exit of the Czarina Natalia served to increase the victory. Peter was then only ten years old, and the czarina was probably justified in taking the child away from that long and weary service; but no excuse would be accepted for her in the heat of the popular displeasure. When I left the Kremlin that evening, I encountered Dr. von Gaden, and he walked with me a little way towards my quarters. The doctor was anxious and disturbed, and we discussed the conduct of the czarevna. “The Miloslavskys are desperate,” Von Gaden remarked, “and Sophia is able enough and clever enough to wring success out of their defeat; they are playing on the disloyalty of the Streltsi.” “A dangerous move,” I replied. “I heard to-day that the Streltsi had presented a formal petition for redress and the punishment of their own officers.” “Yes,” Von Gaden said, shaking his head thoughtfully, “only one regiment remains faithful to the young czar.” “You mean the Sukharef, and I suppose they will tamper even with that.” “Ay, no doubt,” the physician said; “and yet, when this trouble is let loose, who can stem the current? It may be more mighty than they suppose. He who sows the wind must reap the whirlwind!” “It is a desperate game, and both parties are playing desperately. I hear that the Chancellor Matveief is coming home.” “That we have all expected,” replied Von Gaden. “Your friend Ivan Michaelovitch Miloslavsky is reported ill to-night.” “Strange,” I remarked; “he seemed in good health to-day.” “It is but acting,” said the physician, bitterly; “they are all acting now. Miloslavsky has some end in view which can be best served by isolation, therefore he is ill.” “A few days ago the cause of the Czarevitch Ivan was desperate,” I remarked musingly, “but now the Czar Peter’s hold on the imperial sceptre seems precarious. There has been shrewd work done in the interval.”