"An everlasting weariness. Farewell."

After this long and fanciful digression the reader will no doubt be
obliged by my returning to this world.

Count Panin told me that in a few days the empress would leave for her
country house, and I determined to have an interview with her, foreseeing
that it would be for the last time.

I had been in the garden for a few minutes when heavy rain began to fall,
and I was going to leave, when the empress summoned me into an apartment
on the ground floor of the palace, where she was walking up and down with
Gregorovitch and a maid of honour.

"I had forgotten to ask you," she said, graciously, "if you believe the
new calculation of the calendar to be exempt from error?"

"No, your majesty; but the error is so minute that it will not produce
any sensible effect for the space of nine or ten thousand years."

"I thought so; and in my opinion Pope Gregory should not have
acknowledged any mistake at all. The Pope, however, had much less
difficulty in carrying out his reform than I should have with my
subjects, who are too fond of their ancient usages and customs."
"Nevertheless, I am sure your majesty would meet with obedience." "No
doubt, but imagine the grief of my clergy in not being able to celebrate
the numerous saints' days, which would fall on the eleven days to be
suppressed. You have only one saint for each day, but we have a dozen at
least. I may remark also that all ancient states and kingdoms are
attached to their ancient laws. I have heard that your Republic of Venice