Corsini quitted the cabinet shortly after the departure of the
Emperor. Alexander, full of his great idea, and it was proved later on
that it was a very excellent and ingenious one, felt that he could
leave all further details to the astute Golitzine, Salmoros, and the
two Generals.
After the Czar had left, Golitzine had questioned the Italian
closely as to certain items of the information which he had gathered
at the villa the night before. Being satisfied as to these, he had
intimated, of course in the most polite and diplomatic manner, that
Corsini's presence was no longer required. He was now going into
certain practical matters with the two Generals, with regard to the
disposition of the soldiery and police, of a strictly technical nature
which would have no interest to a civilian.
Corsini took the hint at once. He had already learned that high
politics meant strict business. These two great men would put up with
your company, just so long as you were useful to them. As soon as you
had fulfilled your part, you were dismissed, in order that they might
turn to somebody else of equal importance.
But Golitzine, in spite of his lean and rather saturnine aspect, was a
kind-hearted old fellow. He shook the young man warmly by the hand and
whispered in his ear:
"Please do not accuse me of scant courtesy, if I seem to hurry you
away, but the time is all too short for what I have to plan and
arrange. Be assured that, so far as the Emperor is concerned, your
fortune is made. I cannot take upon myself to predict the precise
nature of your reward, but it will be a very substantial one. And of
course your friend Ivan and his associate will be remembered, too."
Corsini bowed gratefully. He already knew enough of Courts to assume
that Golitzine himself would determine the nature and extent of those
rewards. The Emperor would only speak with the voice of his Secretary,
although as a matter of etiquette, he must always be regarded as the
fountain of honour.
Golitzine went on in a still lower tone. "You have more time on your
hands than we hard-working servants of the State have. We shall not
meet again till to-night at the _bal-masque_. You might use a few of
your leisure moments in strolling round to my house and cheering up
the Princess Nada. I prepared my wife for a possible visit. I am
certain you will not be denied admittance."
Corsini was very young, too young to have got over the youthful habit
of blushing. A deep red settled on his countenance as he realised the
nature and intention of the kindly Count's suggestion.
Golitzine peered at him amiably through his spectacles. He liked that
ingenuous blush: it betokened sincerity. Here was no callous young
adventurer, simply a youth of integrity and good principles,
quick-witted enough to take advantage of his opportunities.
"You are a favourite of fortune, my dear fellow, but you have had the
good sense to see when she smiled on you. Strike while the iron is
hot. Every right-thinking young woman is grateful to her preserver,
especially when he is so good to look at as you are. You don't want me
to give you any further hint."
Corsini, more embarrassed than ever, murmured a reply that was almost
inarticulate, but one expressing gratitude for his Excellency's
suggestions. He made his _adieux_ hastily, anxious to be out of the
chamber where these experienced men seemed to read his very soul.
Salmoros detained him a second. "Not quite so quick, my young friend.
You will dine with me to-morrow night at my hotel; here is the
address." He added with a humorous smile, "That is to say, if this
devil of a Zouroff leaves any of us alive."
Corsini left the Winter Palace. He saw the figures of his faithful
bodyguard hovering in the distance, pledged to watch after his safety,
to protect him from the evil designs of his relentless enemy, that
traitor Prince whom he had outwitted.
He bent his steps in the direction of Golitzine's house. He was
anxious to see the Princess again, but perhaps, had he not been
spurred by the Count's hints, he might not have dared to intrude upon
her so soon.
The kiss of last night, when their lips had met for the first time!
She had kissed him warmly then, in the exaltation of grateful feelings
for her rescue from her ruffianly brother.
That was last night. Would the morning bring reflection, prudence?
Would she remember the difference between their stations--recollect
that she was a Princess of the highest lineage, he an artist, a
genius, but a man of no birth or connections?
As he walked slowly along, his thoughts travelled back to the time
when he had been in such despair that he had come one night to the
conclusion life was no longer worth living. He remembered he had put
that question to his devoted little sister, Anita, and she had
answered bravely that she would leave the decision to him.
And by one turn, as it seemed, of fortune's wheel, all this was
changed. He had in his pocket a letter received from Anita that
morning, written from the house of the kind ladies in whose charge the
Baron Salmoros had placed her when he despatched her brother on his
mission to Russia.
A young Englishman had fallen in love with Anita; she had fallen in
love with him. He had excellent prospects. One of the two benevolent
ladies had enclosed a brief note, speaking in the highest terms of the
young lover, who was also a protege of the benevolent Salmoros. Anita
had promised to become his wife, subject to her brother's consent.
How far away it all seemed, that snowy night in Dean Street, when he
had played in the gutter to earn a few coppers for food and lodging.
Dear old Papa Peron, with his big heart, the genial Degraux, the
powerful and astute Salmoros, who picked out intelligent instruments
for his deeply laid schemes! All these figures were present to him as
he strolled along.
So Anita was in love and would shortly be a happy wife. Well, if she
made half as good a wife as a sister, her husband would be a fortunate
man. He would ask a few details of Salmoros when he dined with him
to-morrow night about this young suitor, but he had no doubt he would
write Anita a warm letter of congratulation.
And for himself! Last night, the beautiful Nada, whom he had regarded
as a star set high up in the firmament above him, had returned his
kiss. Already he occupied an important post in the musical world. This
morning, Golitzine had hinted at substantial rewards for his secret
and important services. The Count had spoken of him as one of
fortune's favourites. The description did not seem to be misplaced.
His heart beat more confidently as he approached the Count's house.
After all, he was not so unworthy as he had once imagined himself to
be. Nada was one of a long line. He was going to be the first of
his--virile, ambitious, with the restless impulses of new blood. Was
the difference between them so great after all?
He met the Countess in the hall. Full of the prejudices of her caste,
she did not perhaps wholly approve of the visit; but she was a very
obedient wife, and Golitzine, as it has been explained, had given her
a hint that if Corsini called he was to be admitted at once to the
presence of the young Princess.
Nada was reclining in an easy-chair, looking a little wan. To her
enraptured lover, her slight pallor only added spirituality to her
beauty.
He felt he must proceed very cautiously. She might wish to ignore that
episode of the previous night, for which the strange circumstances
could furnish a reasonable excuse.
He bowed low over her hand and raised it respectfully to his lips. "I
am so pleased, Princess," he began in rather hesitating tones, "to see
that you are very little the worse for last night's adventure."
A faint colour suffused her cheeks; she withdrew her hand with a
little pettish gesture. It was evident that she did not wish to ignore
the incident of last night.
"Why are you so formal? I am not a Princess to you, but simply Nada,
an unhappy girl whom you rescued and brought here at night, and whom
you said you loved. Have you forgotten all this?"
"No, I have not forgotten," was the fervent answer, "but I was not
sure you might wish to remember. Last night, the circumstances were
very unusual. Feelings of gratitude might have led you farther--"
He paused, for the very good reason that Nada had placed her hand upon
his lips.
"Do you know, you are talking very foolishly, Nello. But no, it is not
altogether foolish. I can guess all that there is in your mind. You
are such a perfect gentleman, so chivalrous where a woman is
concerned. But you need doubt no longer. When I allowed you to kiss me
last night and kissed you back, I gave you my heart once and for all
time."
He bent over her and kissed this time, not her hand, but her lips.
"And you will marry me, you will be my wife?" he asked in a voice that
still expressed hesitation.
"Of course," answered the Princess, with a pretty assumption of
indignation. "Do you think I would suffer any man to kiss me unless I
were sure he were going to be my husband?"
As he walked back to his hotel Corsini felt as if he were treading on
air. How thankful he was to the kindly old Count for that hint, to
strike while the iron was hot. Left to himself, he might have lost her
for want of boldness. And now, Nada had promised to be his wife. Very
shortly he and his dear little sister would both be happily married.
* * * * *
Later in the day, when the Emperor's private cabinet had been cleared
of his official counsellors, Alexander held an important conversation
with a man as strong and stalwart as himself, closely resembling him
in height and build. This man was an illegitimate son of one of the
Romanoffs, and had ever devoted himself to his Majesty's person and
given a hundred proofs of his loyalty.
"Listen, my faithful Sergius," said the autocrat, as he motioned him
to a seat. "I have something to tell you that will startle you. You
know that to-night we hold a _bal-masque_ at the Winter Palace. You
will be there."
The man Sergius nodded. On these more or less ceremonious occasions he
was never far from his master's side. He had no subtlety of intellect,
he had little sense of diplomacy. It was impossible to advance him
very far, to make him into even the semblance of a statesman, but he
worshipped his Emperor and relative with a canine fidelity. He was a
magnificent watch-dog and would lay down his life for his master.
"There is a plot on foot, engineered by Prince Zouroff and others, to
assassinate me to-night in the ball-room of the Winter Palace."
Sergius recoiled in horror. "But where are your guards, your police?
What are Golitzine, Beilski, and Burovkin doing?" he cried in
amazement. He started from his chair, ever a man of action. "Let me go
round to the Zouroff Palace at once, get hold of this ruffian and
choke the life out of him. You can then punish me for a brief space
and then give me a free pardon--extenuating circumstances, or
something of that sort."
Alexander smiled kindly. Sergius, the man of proved loyalty, spoke, as
usual, from his full heart. But, as ever, he lacked discretion.
"A most excellent idea, my good old friend and cousin, but in this
century we cannot proceed on strictly mediaeval lines. Besides, we want
to take them, so to speak, red-handed. Golitzine is working admirably.
So are Burovkin and Beilski; they will see to the soldiers and the
police. They wanted to arrange my part in the affair--I know what they
would have proposed, that I should absent myself--I determined to take
the matter in hand personally. If I am not there, and they already
know how I purpose to be dressed, they will not carry out their
plot; they will postpone it, and we shall still be hanging on the
tenterhooks of suspense, wondering when the blow will fall. Let it
fall to-night, as they have planned, and let them be taken red-handed.
That is my policy."
Sergius stared at his master with a puzzled expression. His slow brain
could not follow the Emperor's explanation. Certainly, it would be
very easy for him to go round to the Zouroff Palace and strangle its
master; half a dozen others, if necessary. This was surely the most
certain way to his soldier-like and practical mind.
"Sergius, my good friend, this affair wants a little diplomacy, which
you and I will carry out between us. I shall acquaint Golitzine and
the others with it, say, an hour before the reception begins. They
think they have the monopoly of brains, that their Emperor must always
think the thoughts they put into his head, always speak the words they
prepare for him. Well, I am going to show them that sometimes I can
act upon my own initiative. I have prepared a little stratagem, in
which I invite your co-operation. I will explain it to you."
He unfolded his scheme to the puzzled and interested Sergius. The
blunt soldier rose up when the Emperor had finished, and smiled
delightedly.
"Excellent, most excellent, Sire. You can rely upon me; you may be
sure I shall not fail to play my part."
At midnight the vast saloons of the Winter Palace were thronged with a
happy, joyous crowd. Zouroff was there, in a disguise that he thought
nobody could penetrate. The other seven leaders were there also, safe
as they thought from recognition.
Corsini was there, having come on from the Opera. And the young
Princess had come also, with the Countess Golitzine. At first she had
protested. She wished to see the Emperor triumph, as she was assured
he would; but the Emperor's triumph would mean the ruin of her
brother. Basely as he had treated her, she was reluctant to assist at
the spectacle of his degradation.
But curiosity prevailed, the natural curiosity of being in at the
finish of things. And besides, the Countess had told her that she
would give to Corsini a description of her costume, and obtain from
him one of his, so that they could easily recognise each other. In the
end, she went.
The commanding figure of the Emperor, clothed in his mask and blue
domino, moved about amongst his guests. There was no mistaking that
Imperial presence. One man, in particular, was watching intently,
following every motion.
Corsini had at last found out his sweetheart. They were conversing
together in low whispers, when suddenly there rose from a hundred
throats the shout of--"Treason! Treason!"
They turned their startled gaze towards the end of the room, in time
to see the Emperor's huge form sink slowly to the floor. A small man
darted from his side, buried himself amid the crowd and made hastily
towards the nearest door, concealing in his garments the dagger with
which he had inflicted the blow.
He found the door guarded by three stalwart men, who seized him at
once and forbade egress. They were members of Beilski's police.
At the same instant the General himself tore off his mask, and cried
out in stentorian tones, "Unmask, everybody. The doors are guarded.
None can pass through till we are satisfied of their innocence. We
know the names of all the traitors. At yonder door my men have got the
assassin."
Slowly they all unmasked, Zouroff amongst the rest. He knew now that
he had been foiled by somebody, that his ambitions were quenched for
ever. Siberia and the mines for him, as the lightest penalty.
To do him justice, he took his fate stoically. He folded his arms
across his breast and cast a disdainful glance in the direction of the
panic-stricken crowd.
Beilski, who had been standing close to that tall, commanding figure,
went and touched him lightly on the shoulder.
"Get up, Sergius," he whispered. "The first act of the tragedy is
over."
The apparently inanimate man rose slowly to his feet, threw off his
mask and domino, disclosing a suit of chain mail beneath, which the
dagger of the assassin had been unable to penetrate.
And then a great shout of loyalty burst forth from the assembly, as
they recognised the situation. The Emperor had never been at the
reception at all. This faithful left-handed relative of his, who so
closely resembled his Imperial Master, had taken his place.
And then a side door opened and the Czar, in ordinary attire, came
through and made his way to the top of the room. He was escorted by a
strong bodyguard. It was just on the cards that one of these desperate
men might make a second attempt, out of pure revenge.
But there was no fear of this. Beilski's men had got all of the eight
leading conspirators and several accomplices safely in their clutches.
It must be said for the Emperor that, on occasions like these, he
could always assume the grand manner.
In a few well-chosen sentences he dismissed the assembly, with many
regrets that their pleasure had been so abruptly terminated. There
were matters of great import to be attended to, matters which would
not brook delay.
Nada broke away from the Countess and rushed over to her brother. In
spite of his cruel treatment of her, her heart at that moment bled for
him.
"Oh, Boris, I know it is good-bye for ever. Why did you not listen to
me when I pleaded with you to give up your dangerous schemes?"
But Zouroff hardly listened to her. He was thinking of that snowy,
never-ending road to Siberia, along which he would trudge in chains,
guarded by the merciless Cossacks.
"Don't worry me," he said in a dull voice. "All is finished. What is
the use of looking back?"
After the assembly had dispersed the Emperor retired to his private
cabinet. He intimated that, for the moment, he only wished to see
Golitzine and Corsini. The others he would interview later.
Immediately the door was closed he turned to the young Italian.
"Signor Corsini, I have said before in your presence that the house of
Romanoff is not ungrateful. I have great pleasure in bestowing upon
you the title of Count; there will also be paid to you a considerable
sum which you can invest at your discretion. The directorship of the
Imperial Opera, if you wish to retain it, can be yours for life. With
regard to your friend, Ivan, our promises have been already given.
Golitzine will see to this."
Corsini expressed his thanks in becoming language, and was about to
withdraw, when the Count detained him.
"One moment, Corsini; I shall take upon myself to disclose to
his Majesty a little idyll that has lately been going on in St.
Petersburg--one which the Countess has confided to me. The Princess
Nada has promised to be our young friend's wife."
The Emperor smiled graciously and extended his hand cordially.
"Congratulations, Signor. Nada will make a good and faithful wife. She
takes after her mother; the father and son were both ruffians."