The idea of creating a Slavic union embracing Russia, Belarus, and Yugoslavia is nothing new. In the past, sensible politicians perceived it as matter of fancy. So too today.

The matter lies not so much in the international situation as in political tensions inside Russia. Impeachment hearings in the Duma are scheduled for April 15. Although the chances of the president's removal from office are insignificant, Yeltsin understands that if his opponents succeed in collecting the required 300 votes for at least one accusation to go to the next stage in the proceedings, it might become his Waterloo.

Seleznev tried to persuade his colleagues to postpone impeachment, saying that Russia needs to demonstrate unity and consent. But his move only aggravated his Communist Party comrades who are hungry for the president's blood.

Now a new pretext appears to have been found to derail impeachment: the idea of a Slavic union. Last week, Seleznev visited Yugoslavia, met with Yugoslav President Slobodan Milosevic, obtained a verbal consent from him, and, on Friday, having just returned to Moscow, rushed to brief the president on the results.

Everything was arranged spectacularly. Right after Seleznev spoke to the president, the Duma convened a meeting to discuss how the impeachment vote should be arranged. The Communists insisted on an open vote, so that deputies would fear to step out of party lines. By the time the Duma adopted its agenda, Seleznev stepped in. He reproached reporters on his way in for ignoring his press conference the day before and entered the meeting hall swiftly. It was there that Seleznev announced the "Slavic re-union" concept.

He spoke of it as a closed matter: "The president has supported this proposal," he said."The president called Belarus President Aleksandr Lukashenko in my presence...

"State institutions have been ordered to prepare all necessary documents," he added.

Seeking to eliminate any doubt, Seleznev also said the Kremlin would release a videotape of his meeting with the president, proving the historical decision had been taken in earnest.

He then delivered the president's moving request to Russia's deputies asking for the impeachment vote to be postponed. "This isn't the right time," he said.

But the responses to Seleznev's motion were disturbed by a lone query: Does a union mean that if NATO proceeds with its military action against Yugoslavia, Russia will find itself in a state of war?

Seleznev's reaction was odd. "This is not a press conference," he retorted.

Then Seleznev was let down. Though the Communists were unequivocally supportive of the proposed union, they believed it would be even better without Yeltsin. Even worse for Seleznev was that the promised video of the "historical" meeting in the Kremlin turned out to show nothing sensational. The president did not promise anything specific.

Yeltsin even went on the offensive, prompting his press secretary, Dmitri Yakushkin, to declare: "The postponed impeachment is a constantly smoldering threat to the country's political stability."

As details emerged, the case became clearer. The Kremlin used Seleznev, someone the Communist Party would trust, to introduce the idea of a Slavic union. And the president finally got what he wanted: the Duma decided to take a secret rather than an open vote on the impeachment issue.

The Kremlin now has an opportunity to "steal" votes from the Communists. The president may be interested to organize a vote as soon as possible. If all five items of the accusation fail to receive the required 300 votes, Yeltsin will be relieved of the headache of impeachment proceedings forever.

As far as Seleznev is concerned, it is probably his journalist's past that played a trick on him. After all, how can a former newspaperman resist the temptation of breaking a sensational story?