The Czarina Natalia was seated on a throne-like chair at the end of the apartment, and the ex-Chancellor Matveief stood at her right hand. Her robe of silver brocade, covered with white lace and trimmed with sables, made her a splendid figure. She was still a young woman, and as I looked at her that morning, I was more than usually impressed with the contrast between the tall and graceful form of Alexis’ widow and her short and ill-proportioned step-daughter Sophia. Natalia was handsome; her fine features and black hair were striking, and her large dark eyes had a fire and beauty which suggested the attraction that had won the heart of Alexis the Most Debonair. Only a czar could afford to marry as he pleased; every other sovereign of Europe had his consort selected for reasons of state, but the Autocrat of Russia could wed his own subject and make her an empress. Matveief’s wife was a Scotchwoman, and had introduced the freedom of western manners into the household; and she and her husband’s ward, Natalia Naryshkin, served the _vodka_ and caviare when Alexis was visiting his chancellor, thus giving the czar an opportunity to observe the young girl. A short time after this interesting social occasion, the daughter of old Kirill Naryshkin became the Czarina and Grand Duchess Natalia Kirilovna of all Great and Little and White Russia. At the death of Alexis, Natalia as the dowager czarina was, by virtue of the old Russian law, the head of the imperial family. It was the first time that I had ever seen the czarina’s former guardian, the man whose influence and diplomacy had firmly established his ward as Alexis’ wife in the teeth of as bitter opposition as was ever met by a bride of Russia, and it was a peculiarly terrible ordeal to be selected as the imperial bride. The custom was time-honored and unique. When a czar desired a spouse, the maidens of Moscow and the provinces were assembled, summoned according to certain restrictions in regard to rank and beauty, and the autocrat made his choice. After the imperial decision, came the hour of tribulation; the fortunate (?) candidate was attacked by the malice and envy of every faction at court, and more than one imperial bride-elect was drugged into the semblance of illness, one having her hair twisted up so tightly by her affectionate ladies-in-waiting that she fainted. The immediate result of such accidents was the charge that the young woman was afflicted with an incurable disorder; and as it was regarded in the light of treason to present such a candidate, the unfortunate and her family were sent to Siberia, if she did not die suddenly, as did the Princess Marie Dolgoruky. So it may be seen that to be an aspirant for the imperial matrimonial diadem was to be also a candidate for exile, imprisonment, painful hair-dressing, and poison.