The boyar welcomed Naryshkin with effusion, but I saw that his fair companion seemed to shrink yet farther into the background, and I rejoiced at the maiden’s discernment. It is said that every woman is endowed with an instinct that warns her against such men, and in this case it seemed true. Naryshkin, however, was nothing dashed by her manner, probably attributing it to maiden coyness, and forced himself upon her notice in a way which made me grind my teeth; but I was compelled to swallow my displeasure and play the _rôle_ of a bystander at the little drama. It did not take me long to draw some natural conclusions, especially as I saw that the boyar evidently favored the would-be suitor, and was as eager to welcome his advances as the young girl was to repulse them. I was more than ever determined to learn something about the identity of the two, and the probable fate in store for the possessor of that beautiful face. When they moved away through the crowd I followed, as I had followed before, and saw them assisted into their carriage by Naryshkin. As she stepped into it she turned and looked back, and it seemed to me that, even through her veil, I saw her eyes; something fell from her hand and fluttered to the ground, unnoticed by her ill-favored suitor. As the carriage drove slowly off, I pressed forward and found a glove. Her glove! A man was standing near me and I questioned him. Yes, he knew whose carriage it was. That old gentleman was the Boyar Vladimir Ramodanofsky, and I gathered from the fellow’s manner that the name was not popular with the masses. I had gained something; knowing his name, I could soon learn more of him; already I knew a little, by reputation, of the stern old nobleman who had once commanded the insubordinate Streltsi. Meanwhile, her glove lay in the palm of my hand. Such a little glove; of the kind worn by the ladies in Paris, and it seemed to retain yet the round shape of her small hand, to be a part of her personality. Had she dropped it purposely? I dared not think so; but I thrust it into my bosom and walked on swiftly in the track of the carriage. I was resolved this time to know more about her. The crowd was thinning out, and I made my way easily to the Gate of the Redeemer, keeping the carriage in view, for it was moving slowly. I was congratulating myself on having escaped my strange acquaintance and being at liberty to pursue my own inclination, but I was destined to meet with another obstacle to the accomplishment of my errand. Just as I was about to leave the Kremlin, I encountered Dr. Daniel von Gaden, the Jewish physician of the late Czar Feodor. He stopped me to ask some particulars of the occurrences in the Grand Square. He was a learned man, and had, too, a thorough knowledge of the intrigues at court. His face to-day was pale and grave.