“M. de Brousson,” he said in a low voice, pointing his long finger at the Kremlin, “it will avail nothing to advance that ambitious woman. It will avail nothing to set aside the czarina dowager, to crush the Naryshkins, to excite the Streltsi, and appeal to every passion of the rabble. The future ruler of the empire is yonder: a boy now, little considered and set aside, but the ruler born, and every inch a czar. I know the lad, I can read destiny in his eye; unless the hand of an assassin strike down that young life, this distracted country will see in him the dawn of a new power. You have the grand monarch; but not even your great Louis will be greater than Peter Alexeivitch.” Looking back now, after forty years, upon that scene, I see again the Jew’s face as he uttered his prophecy, received by me then as the vagary of an excitable and dreamy man, but remembered in later years as the first proclamation of Peter the Great. His outburst over, Von Gaden walked beside me dreamily. “The city is more quiet,” I remarked, “since the _pravezh_; the Streltsi seem to be satisfied.” He shook his head with an air of gloom which reminded me of Pierrot. “It is the calm before the storm,” he replied. “Every one is calling on Matveief and bringing him presents; but his son has said that it is ‘sweet money on a sharp knife,’ and that is the truth, although it is unwise for him to say it, but young blood is hot.” We were now approaching the Ramodanofsky house, and I looked at the gloomy exterior with a new sensation; how soon would it receive its true master? Von Gaden’s thoughts were now more practical. “You must be cautious, M. le Vicomte,” he said; “although I feel assured that Vladimir will not offer open violence on account of your station, and the estimation in which you are held in high places. Secret attacks are in his line, and Feodor tells me he has already warned you. Vladimir will be aware that your coming is known, and will scarcely take violent measures; but beware of him, he is a desperate and a relentless man; more smooth and courtly than his brother, but the deeper traitor.” I touched my sword. “I have a friend with me,” I said quietly; “but I anticipate no trouble, beyond the difficulty of obtaining any satisfaction.” “We cannot tell,” Von Gaden replied; “but for Zénaïde’s sake be cautious. I do not myself believe that he will attempt to do anything until he finds out what his brother intends to do, and I fear no injury to the young girl; it would profit him nothing, and would bring down the wrath of the czarina upon him. He is far too adroit and diplomatic to ruin his own game. But be cautious, M. le Vicomte, be cautious!” And with this warning in my ears, I left him, and passing on, entered the courtyard gates and stood before the boyar’s door. CHAPTER XX. A FRIENDLY CUP.