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The Emperor Alexander, while travelling in Western Russia, came one day to a small town of which he knew very little; so, when he found that he must change horses, he thought that he would look around and see what the town was like.

Alone, habited in a plain military coat, without any mark of his high rank, he wandered through the place until he came to the end of the road that he had been following. There he paused, not knowing which way to turn; for two paths were before him,—one to the right and one to the left.

Alexander saw a man standing at the door of a house; and, going up to him, the Emperor said, “My friend, can you tell me which of these two roads I must take to get to Kalouga?” The man, who was in full military dress, was smoking a pipe with an air of dignity almost ridiculous. Astonished that so plain-looking a traveller should dare to speak to him with familiarity, the smoker answered shortly, “To the right.”

“Pardon!” said the Emperor. “Another word, if you please.”—“What?” was the haughty reply.—“Permit me to ask you a question,” continued the Emperor. “What is your grade in the army?”—“Guess.” And the pipe blazed away furiously.—“Lieutenant?” said the amused Alexander.—“Up!” came proudly from the smoker’s lips.—“Captain?”—“Higher.”—“Major?”—“At last!” was the lofty response. The Emperor bowed low in the presence of such greatness.

“Now, in my turn,” said the major, with the grand air that he thought fit to assume in addressing a humble inferior, “what are you, if you please?”—“Guess,” answered Alexander.—“Lieutenant?”—“Up!”—“Captain?”—“Higher.”—“Major?”—“Go on.”—“Colonel?”—“Again.”

The smoker took his pipe from his mouth: “Your Excellency is, then, General?” The grand air was fast disappearing.—“You are coming near it.”—The major put his hand to his cap: “Then your Highness is Field-Marshal?”

By this time the grand air had taken flight, and the officer, so pompous a moment before, looked as if the steady gaze and the quiet voice of the traveller had reduced him to the last stage of fear.—“Once more, my good major,” said Alexander.—“His Imperial Majesty?” exclaimed the man, in surprise and terror, letting his pipe drop from his trembling fingers.—“His very self,” answered the Emperor; and he smiled at the wonderful change in the major’s face and manner.

“Ah, Sire, pardon me!” cried the officer, falling on his knees,—“pardon me!”—“And what is there to pardon?” said Alexander, with real, simple dignity. “My friend, you have done me no harm. I asked you which road I should take, and you told me. Thanks!”

But the major never forgot the lesson. If, in later years, he was tempted to be rude or haughty to his so-called inferiors, there rose at once in his mind a picture of a well-remembered scene, in which his pride of power had brought such shame upon him. Two soldiers in a quiet country-town made but an every-day picture, after all; but what a difference there had been between the pompous manner of the petty officer and the natural, courteous dignity of the Emperor of all the Russias!