"Because you are a coward, and because you have never been a soldier. The idea of being frightened at the sound of cannon that are only inviting people to join the great Christmas procession! The Czar is now giving a gala banquet to the court and a display of fireworks to the people. Do you hear those reports? They are rockets. Now the great set piece is going off! And when six such volleys are fired, one after another, it means that the Czar is raising his glass for a toast. Oho! how often have I attended such festivities! Not one took place without me. Ah, I was beautiful as a young woman, and my voice was musical as silver. Czar Paul was constantly asking me to sing him his favorite song--_When by Evening's Latest Rays_. It is a pretty song still. But I have no one now to sing it to." At that very moment came some one who liked to listen to the "pretty" song. "Blessed be the Lord of all!" cried Anna Feodorovna, clapping her hands. "Has her nest-bird remembered his old grandmother? What? You have left the Czar's brilliant banquet in the lurch, to come and pay a visit to your poor old grandam on this second Christmas day? Now that is really very good of you, Ivan Maximovitch. But you must be going back. Don't on my account do anything to excite the Czar's displeasure. For the favor of the Czar is like a virgin's innocence; there must not be a breath upon it. If he has happened to notice that you have left before the time, seek an audience with him. Confess to him that you came away early in order to visit your old grandmother. He knows me, and used to be very fond of me as a little boy. Ah! I was quite a young woman then!" The old lady was talking of Czar Alexander, only twenty-seven years younger than herself. "How often have I hushed him on my lap when, to please his father, I sang the song he was so fond of--_When by Evening's Latest Rays_. Don't you know it? Come; I will sing it. Sit down on my footstool and rest your head on my hands." Ivan sat at his grandmother's feet. How restful it was to be a child once more! And the old lady began her song. True, her voice sounded like some old harpsichord hidden away and forgotten in some king's palace for five-and-twenty years, out of tune, and with some of the strings broken; but, all the same, she sang to her grandson: "'When by evening's latest rays Thou art resting 'neath the trees, And a silent peaceful form Wakes thee out of sweetest dreams, Thy true friend it is who nears-- Seek, oh, seek, not to avoid him; For he thinks of you and brings Joy, true joy, upon his wings.'" Ivan kissed his grandmother's hand for her sweet song. "But you are so sad to-day, Ivan! Tell me, what is troubling you? Are you going, perhaps, on some journey--a long, far journey?" "A very far journey." "Ah, I can guess whither!" she said, laughing. "You are going to see your father, my beloved Maxim." She had guessed truly!