THE COMBAT IN THE SNOW
As I ran, I saw an officer in uniform leap from the interior of the
_droshka_, and draw his sword in preparation for my attack, while his
_yemschik_, whip in hand, scrambled from the snow, and assumed a
place beside him. They evidently supposed the attack to be of a very
different character than it really was. The wounded horse was
struggling and kicking, and I found time to think of the grave danger
that its hoofs might injure Zara, whom I judged to be unconscious from
fright, or because of the shock; and so, heedless of my own necessities
in undertaking an assault upon the two men who now faced me, I fired a
third bullet into the maddened animal. Then, as I sprang to the attack,
I saw and recognized the man who confronted me, and my heart bounded
with thanksgiving that I had taken that route to the palace. I
recognized Alexis Durnief.
The report of his arrest had been false, or he had managed in some way
to escape; and even then, in that instant of rushing onward upon the
two men, I could not help wondering by what means he had managed to
entice Zara from the house in which she had taken refuge. I had two
bullets remaining in my revolver; at least I thought so, and I raised
it, and pulled the trigger a fourth time, thus placing the _yemschik_
effectually out of that combat, and rendering it impossible for him
ever to engage in others; and then, when barely ten feet away from the
scoundrelly captain, I leveled the weapon at him and ordered him to
throw down his sword. He laughed derisively, for he was not a coward,
and he knew that death would be far preferable to the fate that would
be his, if he were captured alive.
"So! It is my friend Dubravnik, is it?" he said, insolently, but in a
tone as cool as though he were greeting me in a ballroom. "You have
killed my horses, and my _yemschik_; why not do the same for me?"
I hesitated.
To shoot a man like that, was against every impulse of my soul; and yet
he was armed with a weapon as deadly as mine, if once I should get
within reach of its point. I possessed none with which to meet him on
even ground. But, inside the _droshka_, was unquestionably the
unconscious form of the woman I loved. The occasion was a crisis. There
could be no temporizing. Zara must be rescued.
"Throw down your sword, or I will certainly kill you!" I commanded him,
again.
"Kill," he replied, laconically. There was no other way, and I pulled
the trigger.
There was no report. Durnief did not fall, as the horses, and his
_yemschik_ had done. He stood unharmed, for the cartridge was bad,
or the chamber of my revolver was unloaded. Instantly he understood
that he had me at his mercy, and with a deadly smile upon his face he
leaped forward to run me through.
As he sprang towards me, I hurled the pistol with all my strength
towards him. It struck him squarely in the breast, staggering him, and
forcing him off his guard. Then, before he could recover, I sprang past
the point of his weapon. I seized his sword arm, by the wrist, with my
left hand, and threw my other arm around his body. We were as evenly
matched as though we had trained at weights and measurements for the
combat, and for a moment we struggled madly together, while I exerted
all my strength to bend his wrist backward, so that he would be
compelled to drop his sword.
It seems strange that such a struggle, taking place in the streets of a
great city immediately following upon the four reports of my pistol,
had not attracted attention and drawn somebody to the scene, but the
passing night had been one of terror; policemen had been called away
from their posts, and at that hour, just after dawn, when everything
was quiet, nobody heard, or if they heard, feared to come. In using all
my effort to compel him to drop his weapon I neglected the other
necessary points of the struggle, and although I succeeded in my
design, he forced me backwards at the same instant so that I fell
beneath him, but I still had my right arm tightly clasped around him,
and I hugged him to me with all the strength that I could master. With
Durnief, it was a struggle for life, liberty, and everything that he
possessed, and he fought with all the desperation of a madman. With me,
it was life, and the woman I loved, and I fought coolly, knowing that
he could not get away from me, believing that I could tire him out, and
satisfied that I could prevent him from securing his sword again. He
managed to wrench his hand from my grasp, and he struck me a savage
blow on the head with his fist, but I threw the other arm around him
then, and hugged him all the tighter, so that he was unable to repeat
the blow.
It was a strange combat. A person ten feet away could not have heard
it, for there was no sound save our heavy breathing. The snow deadened
every noise that might have been made otherwise. The air was bitterly
cold.
Presently I became conscious of the fact that my opponent was striving
with all his might to force me in a certain direction, and I correctly
conjectured that he had been able to discover the location of the sword
and was making an attempt to reach it. So I bent my energies to
avoiding his effort. My life had been largely one of adventure, and I
had taken part in many combats, but never before in one like this where
it was simply a matter of endurance, where neither party to the fray
was suffering injury, and where the hope of success was so evenly
divided. Odd as it may seem, while pinioning him thus so that he could
not act on the offensive, I began to conjecture how long we might hold
out, and the probability of assistance arriving to end it; and it was
the uncertainty of the nature of that assistance that concerned me
most.
I have said that there were not half a dozen confessed nihilists
remaining at liberty in St. Petersburg, but there were hundreds, ay,
thousands of nihilistic sympathizers, and there were hundreds of others
who had become allied to the nihilists in some extrinsic way, who were
in sympathy with the order, even if only passively so. If one or more
of such were to happen along the assistance would surely be upon the
side of my enemy, and certain defeat and death would be my portion. If
a mere citizen were to interfere, the captain who still wore his
uniform, would secure the proffered aid, not I. He would be believed,
not I, and hence I understood that whatever advantage there might be in
the way of interference, was on his side. Appreciating these facts, I
exerted my strength to the utmost to turn the tide of battle in my
favor, but I could accomplish nothing. He was as strong as I, though
not more powerful, and so I relapsed again into the mere effort to hold
him helpless, and to take the chances of wearing him out before
assistance should come.
It seemed to me as though an hour passed thus; in reality, it may have
been only a few moments, for minutes are long under such circumstances;
and then there came an interruption--and a strange one.
"With whom are you struggling, Captain Durnief?" I heard a voice say.
"Zara!" I exclaimed, before Durnief could reply.
"With an assassin who has shot our horses, murdered the _yemschik_, and
who would assassinate you, princess," panted Durnief.
"Zara!" I called to her again. "It is I--Dubravnik."
I heard her gasp, and although I could not see her, I was conscious
that she deliberately walked around us, probably to obtain a better
view of me; and in that moment I think I doubted her; but I tightened
my grip around the man I held, and waited grimly for events to shape
themselves.
"Dubravnik?" she said, in a low tone, as if she were not convinced; but
I did not speak again; and the captain also remained silent. Minutes,
which seemed like hours, passed in another deathlike silence, broken
only by the panting of Durnief. I wondered if Zara had fainted, or had
gone for help, or what! There seemed to be no good reason for the
silence, and the waiting. Why did she not grasp the sword, and send its
point through one of us? It did not much matter to me, then, which one
she might choose for its sheath.
Soon, however, I heard a sound directly above me--a sound which a stick
might make in smiting the ground, and I felt that Durnief shuddered. In
another instant it came again, and his arms relaxed, but only to
tighten about me the more convulsively. Then a short pause, which was
followed by the thudding sound of a blow heavier than its predecessors,
and instantly following it, the tensioned muscles of Durnief relaxed.
His arms fell from their clasp around me. I pushed him aside as though
he were dead, and for a moment believed that he was; then springing
upright, to my feet, I was just in time to catch the tottering form of
my princess, who, though not unconscious, had spent her last remaining
strength in that third blow. Her left hand held Durnief's sword. In her
right was the _mujik's_ whip, and I saw that she had used the stock of
it to aid me.
"I stood for a long time, with the sword pressed against his back,
where it would have pierced his heart," she murmured in my ear, while
she clung to me. "I wanted to kill him, but I could not do it. Then I
found the _yemschik's_ whip, but I had not the strength to strike. Do
you wonder why I left the house? The _yemschik_ came to get me. He
brought a note, signed by you. It said that my brother had been
wounded, and was at my house; that it was safe for me to go there now.
I hastened. I ran to the _droshka_, and sprang inside before I knew
that it was occupied. Durnief was there. He seized me. Something was
wrapped around my head, and I lost consciousness, I think. Then I heard
sounds, as if men were fighting, and I crawled from the overturned
_droshka_, and saw you two struggling together, in the snow. I was
dazed, frightened, and very weak. I did not remember what had happened;
I did not recognize you. I thought, at first, that it was Durnief whom
I should assist, and I stood there, watching the struggle for a long
time, trying to remember. Then recollection came, for I heard your
voice. It recalled to me my senses. I remembered who Dubravnik was. Is
it not strange that I should have forgotten? Even for a moment, is it
not strange that I should have forgotten?"
"No, dear, no," I replied.
"Then I found the sword, in the snow. I remembered that I wanted to
kill Durnief, and I put the point against his back. But I could not
press upon it. I tried, but I could not do it. It was horrible,
Dubravnik, horrible. I tried a second time, and the point of the sword
was actually piercing his clothing, when my eyes fell upon the whip. I
secured it. There! See! He is reviving. Seize him, for he must not
escape."