It is no secret that the Emperor adhered to old-fashioned, perhaps even old models of the past. as did those around him. Alexander Khristoforovich Benckendorff, the head of the third of His Imperial Majesty's chancery, was one of them. The loud steps of his shoes echoed through the winter palace, quickly moving towards the office, where he was in a hurry. In his right hand, Alexander held a stack of papers and documents that needed the signature of His Imperial Majesty. A knock on the door. Benckendorff coughed.

• Please forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty, for interrupting you. The matter requires your permission.

The gendarme says, having waited for a nod from Nikolai Pavlovich and entered the Emperor's office, looking at him with a stoic face.

• Alexander Pushkin is stubborn, as you said. I'm afraid to imagine if you give him what he came to you for.