“Not for nothing do they call him butcher,” contemptuously murmured Ekaterina. “Oh! he’ll just say that, out of devotion, he ‘oversalted it.’ … Well! he’ll soon be here. He must be made to mend that affair. That fallen one, without family, nameless, tribeless; a toy in the hands of the wicked, in his arms she’ll be powerless.… And she, after selling beer at Prague, well! how dares she disdain Russian dignitary or count? Where’s--the _mésalliance_?” The calm village scenes of Tzaritzin and Kolomenski, began to weary Ekaterina. The forests, the lakelets, the birds and the butterflies no longer brought her peaceful dreams. The empress suddenly started for Moscow alone. There, in the Chinese city, or Kitaï-Gorod, she visited the archives of the Minister of the Interior, where several important papers had been sent for revision. The director of the archives was the celebrated author of the “History of Russia” and of “The Description of the Empire of Siberia;” late editor of the academical journal, “Monthly Compositions;” traveller and Russian historiographer;--the academician Miller. He was then already seventy. The empress herself was very fond of history, and knew him very well, having often had very long conversations with him about his works, and in general about history. She found him in his room, near the archives, busily turning over a heap of old Muscovite manuscripts. Miller was very fond of flowers and birds. The rooms of his governmental department, not very lofty, were hung all around with cages of blackbirds, bullfinches, and others of the feathered tribe, which quite deafened Ekaterina with their loud whistling and twittering. A glass door opened from the study of the master of the house into another room, ornamented with large plants set in green tubs. The windows were open, but a net which covered them prevented the birds, which were flying about, from taking their departure. The neat and pretty, although simple, room was filled with the perfume of roses and heliotropes. The greatest cleanliness reigned everywhere. The floors were as polished as a mirror. Miller was writing at his table near the glass door leading to his aviary. The empress, passing by, motioned the officious servant away, and came up to him unnoticed. “I have come to you, Gerard Feodorovitch, with a request,” said Ekaterina, on entering the room. Miller jumped up, apologising for his morning costume. “Command me, your Majesty,” said he, hastily arranging his dress, and searching with his eyes for his spectacles, which he missed. The empress took a seat, invited him to do the same, and the conversation began.