time of her morning toilet, she gave orders that her hair should be combed out....  And what happened?  The waiting-woman passes the comb through it, and electric sparks fly from it in a perfect shower!—­Then she called to her the body physician, Rodgerson, who was present on duty, and says to him:  ’I know that people condemn me for certain actions; but dost thou see this electricity?  Consequently, with such a nature and constitution as mine, thou mayest thyself judge, for thou art a physician, that it is unjust to condemn me, but they should understand me!’”

The following incident was ineffaceably retained in the memory of Alexyei Sergyeitch.  He was standing one day on the inner watch in the palace, and he was only sixteen years of age.  And lo, the Empress passes him—­he presents arms....  “And she,” cried Alexyei Sergyeitch, again with rapture, “smiling at my youth and my zeal, deigned to give me her hand to kiss, and patted me on the cheek, and inquired who I was, and whence I came, and from what family?  And then ...” (here the old man’s voice generally broke) ... “then she bade me give my mother her compliments and thank her for rearing her children so well.  And whether I was in heaven or on earth, and how and whither she withdrew,—­whether she soared up on high, or passed into another room,—­I know not to this day!”

I often tried to question Alexyei Sergyeitch about those olden days, about the men who surrounded the Empress....  But he generally evaded the subject.  “What’s the use of talking about old times?”—­he said ... “one only tortures himself.  One says to himself,—­’Thou wert a young man then, but now thy last teeth have vanished from thy mouth.’  And there’s no denying it—­the old times were good ... well, and God be with them!  And as for those men—­I suppose, thou fidgety child, that thou art talking about the accidental men?  Thou hast seen a bubble spring forth on water?  So long as it is whole and lasts, what beautiful colours play upon it!  Red and yellow and blue; all one can say is, ’’Tis a rainbow or a diamond!’—­But it soon bursts, and no trace of it remains.  And that’s what those men were like.”

“Well, and how about Potyomkin?” I asked one day.

Alexyei Sergyeitch assumed a pompous mien.  “Potyomkin, Grigory Alexandritch, was a statesman, a theologian, a nursling of Katherine’s, her offspring, one must say....  But enough of that, my little sir!”

Alexyei Sergyeitch was a very devout man and went to church regularly, although it was beyond his strength.  There was no superstition perceptible in him; he ridiculed signs, the evil eye, and other “twaddle,” yet he did not like it when a hare ran across his path, and it was not quite agreeable for him to meet a priest.[34] He was very respectful to ecclesiastical persons, nevertheless, and asked their blessing, and even kissed their hand every time, but he talked with them reluctantly.—­“They emit a very strong odour,” he explained; “but