“Is it true,” she began, after having made several gracious inquiries after his health, and that of his large family, “is it true?--it is said that you have collected evidence, that you are convinced that it was not a usurper, a pretender who ascended the throne of Moscow; that Grishka Otropieff was the real Tzarevitch Dimitri? You said something about it--to the English traveller, Cox.” The good-natured, absent-minded Miller, always lost in his researches, was very much puzzled at this question of the empress. “Where on earth could she have heard that?” thought he. “Could Cox have blundered it out?” “Let us be candid; I’ll help you,” continued Ekaterina. “You possess a wonderful memory, and withal you are so very perspicacious in deciphering and comparing manuscripts. Give me openly and boldly your opinion. We are alone; no one can hear us. Is it true that the evidence for the condemnation of the Pretender was weak, almost nothing?” Miller became thoughtful. His grey hair was ruffled, and his good-natured, intelligent mouth, which just before the entrance of the empress had held a half-finished cigar in an amber mouth-piece, was now unconsciously nervously twitching. “Yes, it is true,” he answered, hesitating; “but, excuse me, that is quite my own personal opinion, nothing more.” “But if so, then why do you not publish such a very important judgment?” “But, your Majesty,” stammered Miller, looking about him with a bewildered gaze, pulling at his waistcoat, “I read the account of the researches made by Vassili Shouiski at Ouglitch. He made those researches by order of Godounoff. It was to his interest to please Boris, and he did this by bringing to him the evidence only of those who affirmed that the Tzarevitch had really been killed. Of course, any one can see that all other evidence which might have been disagreeable to Godounoff he would suppress.” “Which other?” asked Ekaterina. “That another one was killed, and that the former was hidden; but of course, you know yourself, that this very same Shouiski publicly acknowledged the resuscitated Dimitri.” “A very witty proof,” said Ekaterina. “Not for nothing does General Potemkin, great amateur historian, advise me to have all that published, if you are really convinced of its truth?” “Excuse me, your Majesty,” stammered Miller; “the will of the empress--is an important guide; but there’s another, a power still higher--Russia. I am a Lutheran; the body of the recognised Dimitri lies in the cathedral of the Kremlin. What would become of all my researches, what would become of my own person, amidst your own nation, if I dared to assert that not Grishka Otropieff had ascended the Muscovite throne, but the real Tzarevitch Dimitri?” CHAPTER XX. _MILLER’S REPLY._ The words of Miller disturbed Ekaterina very much. “Well, candid at any rate,” thought she; “just like a philosopher.”