too, had been at Uglich, and had seen the dead boy, almost seen
him slain. Vengeance upon himself was their sole motive. But was
it possible that Sigismund of Poland was really deceived, as well
as the Palatine of Sandomir, whose daughter was betrothed to the
adventurer, Prince Adam Wisniowiecki, in whose house the false
Demetrius had first made his appearance, and all those Polish
nobles who flocked to his banner? Or were they, too, moved by
some ulterior motive which he could not fathom?

That was the riddle that plagued Boris Godunov what time--in the
winter of 1604--he sent his armies to meet the invader. He sent
them because, crippled now by gout, even the satisfaction of
leading them was denied him. He was forced to stay at home in the
gloomy apartments of the Kremlin, fretted by care, with the
ghosts of his evil past to keep him company, and assure him that
the hour of judgment was at hand.

With deepening rage he heard how town after town capitulated to
the adventurer, and mistrusting Basmanov, who was in command, he
sent Shuiski to replace him. In January of 1605 the armies met at
Dobrinichi, and Demetrius suffered a severe defeat, which
compelled him to fall back on Putioli. He lost all his infantry,
and every Russian taken in arms on the pretender's side was
remorselessly hanged as Boris had directed.

Hope began to revive in the heart of Boris; but as months passed
and no decision came, those hopes faded again, and the canker of
the past gnawed at his vitals and sapped his strength. And then
there was ever present to his mind the nightmare riddle of the
pretender's identity. At last, one evening in April, he sent for