56

Dimitri could not sleep that night. He understood that now nothing could prevent him from sitting on the throne of Moscow. "I'm the tsar! It's impossible to believe! Dear God, I thank you for everything: for immortality, for the fact that of all the Russian people it was Dimitri who got in my way, and, of course, for the fact that I won this fight. Give me a sign, let me know who I am: it can't be that normal for an ordinary person to be so lucky. Are the thoughts that hovered in my head true? Am I really something more than just a person?"

Demetrius was bursting with pride. He did it, he did it! With a miserable army of four thousand spears, he was able to defeat the formidable Russian Tsar, who, if desired, could put up a hundred thousand soldiers. And now they are all in his, Demetrius, hands! He will dispose of them, he will overcome the Turks, make an alliance with the European sovereigns and become the strongest, the greatest among them!

The only thing that depressed him was the