“Brave hearts and willing hands may foil even Satan himself.”
“I had,” continued madame, “father, mother, sister, and two brothers,
all of whom were sacrificed to the Moloch of oppression: My father’s
estates were confiscated, and his castle was handed into the possession
of his betrayer, to whom was also given a title, and who was henceforth
known as Count Karenieff. I, a babe in arms, was surely spared in
fiendish irony of purpose, and was consigned to the care of a childless
couple in St. Petersburg, who had strict injunctions to bring me up as
their own offspring, and who, in consideration of the small income they
received with me, kept the secret of my birth until I was nineteen. Then
Paul Galtioff died, and his wife Marie, having confidence in my
discretion, and a premonition that her own end was not far off, showed
me my true vocation. She told me of all that my relatives had suffered,
and how my mother had been subjected to imprisonment, torture, the lash
and personal degradation because she would say nothing that would
incriminate my father. I have often since heard of the horrors of St.
Peter and Paul. In your country they speak with bated breath of
banishment to Siberia as the extreme compass of human suffering. _We_
know that it is the one ray of hope which gleams before the eyes of
those who are denounced. Complete freedom will never be theirs again,
but there are gradations in even the lowest ruts of misery, and I would
pray for the devil himself to be saved from the anguish endured by those
condemned to the fortress.
“What wonder that, thinking of all these things, I should pant for
vengeance, and that I should devote all my future energies to foiling
some of the plots against my compatriots! But Marie Galtioff infused in
me some of her own caution and cunning. Both she and her husband had
belonged to revolutionary societies for years without once exciting
suspicion of their loyalty. Henceforth I derived my chief satisfaction
in hoodwinking our oppressors. I habitually met kindred spirits, among
them being Feodor Kominski, who afterward became my husband. Perhaps it
was well for him that death claimed him soon after Feo was born. His
spirit was too ardent to have worked in the dark much longer.
“For some years after I became a widow I supported myself in various
ways. Then my opportunity came from a quarter least expected. A member
of our society, who possessed great influence at court, where he was
supposed to be one of the most loyal supporters of the throne, was asked
to recommend some lady who would make an efficient government spy. He
nominated me for the office. The pay was on a princely scale. The social
advantages attending the post were great. There was no circle deemed too
high for my entry into it on apparent terms of equality with the most
exclusive. My credentials were indisputable, and my own conversational
ability did the rest. I became a general favorite in society, and might
have been happy, could I but have faithfully performed the day’s duty
for which I was paid. My employers gave me every opportunity of spying
and denouncing suspected persons. I denounced a good many when I saw
that their discovery by others was inevitable. But I always contrived to
let them have sufficient warning to escape before the bolt fell. I was
doing good work for my people, under the mask of an alien to patriotism.
Above all, I was occupying a place which will soon, I fear, be occupied
by a substitute whose aims and aspirations will not be as mine have
been.
“When I was in St. Petersburg in the early spring, Count Karenieff, the
son of my father’s old enemy, was introduced to me, and I found it a
terribly difficult matter to be civil to him. It was, however, necessary
that I should curb the anger which his very name aroused in me. But when
the caitiff’s whelp actually dared to propose marriage to me, my scorn
and hatred over-stepped the bounds of prudence, and my rejection was so
fierce as to astonish him.
“‘I see, madame,’ he said, his face glittering with the evil with which
his heart is full to bursting. ‘I understand you better than you
understand yourself. You see in me a man of strong feeling, and you
think it necessary to use strong words with me, in order to drive me
from my purpose. But I tell you that your beauty has aroused my
passions, and I will gratify them even though you raised ten thousand
objections. You are so unnecessarily vehement that I conclude you have a
more favored lover. One, moreover, who resembles me not at all. And you
think to marry him? I swear you shall marry none but me! Nay, if you do
not beware, I will bring that about which shall make you turn to me for
help, which shall make you only too happy to throw yourself into my arms
and yield yourself to my embraces. As for your lover, I shall find him,
and I shall silence him, never fear. His golden hair shall turn gray
with horror, and his blue eyes shall become dim with anguish.’
“‘He has neither golden hair nor blue eyes,’ I cried, trembling with the
awe the man’s fierce words evoked.
“‘Thank you,’ was his reply. ‘I thought that, as you seemed so disgusted
with my proposal, your inamorato must be my antithesis. Now I am sure of
it. If it had not been so, you would have been glad to permit me to
retain an erroneous opinion. Good-day, madame. Perhaps, when next we
meet, you will have become wiser.’
“With this the viper left me, and I sat bereft of all my usual
fortitude. For I knew him to be capable of as much villainy as his
father before him, and I had practically betrayed Victor Karniak to him;
for his instinct had led him to form a correct idea of the appearance of
my intended husband. That he would hound him down, I had no doubt. But I
was not so paralyzed by Karenieff’s threats as to hesitate long about
what I must do.
“That night I attended a meeting which was held by Nihilists not far
from here. I had difficulty in reaching the place unobserved, and,
carefully disguised, I saw Karenieff and two of his myrmidons watching
my house. I explained the impossibility of my further attendance at the
meetings for some time, as my presence might lead to the discovery and
betrayal of my associates. There were those among them who swore that,
if there must be a victim, it should be Karenieff himself. I would have
rejoiced any time since then to have heard of the removal of the
pestiferous carrion; but he bears a charmed life, or, rather, he is too
well aware of his danger to go anywhere unguarded, for he has denounced
too many people not to fear vengeance from some quarter.
“Victor Karniak was persuaded to leave St. Petersburg for a time, and it
was considered wisest for us not to meet again until we could do so with
more safety.
“I was sent to England, on what was deemed important business, soon
after this, and hoped that Karenieff’s mischievous intentions were
rendered impossible of achievement. Meanwhile Victor, having been
imprudently active in Odessa, narrowly escaped capture by shipping as a
common seaman on board a steamer, in place of a drunken sailor who had
fallen overboard. In due time he reached London. We found means of
meeting, and have been married in an English registry office.
“But we dared not return together, and I dared not delay my own return,
as I had much information to give concerning many Russians who have
escaped to England, some of them with Victor’s help and mine. They are
safe where they are, and will assuredly never return to Russia, having
been warned of what they might expect; so I feel no twinges of
conscience because I have convinced the government beyond doubt that
they are out of Russian territory and beyond Russian jurisdiction.
“My husband, anxious to be near me sometimes, and having considerable
property which he wishes to realize, if possible, followed me here. He
was at the Princess Michaelow’s reception, and though we were studiedly
cool to each other, I once saw Karenieff looking at us with such an
appearance of malicious conviction on his face that I felt sure he
suspected our secret. Victor, who had been called by an alias in Odessa,
believed himself to be recognized, and would have tried to leave the
country again, but was taken ill and has been unable to quit his bed for
more than a week. I have been with him the greater part of the time, and
he is only since yesterday strong enough to rise and dress himself. This
morning I saw him, disguised as an old peddler, and armed with a license
and pass which a friend had procured for him, start on a journey, every
inch of which is fraught with danger of detection and death. God grant
that, shaken as he is with his recent illness, he may find himself once
more in your land of freedom ere long.
“But I fear, I fear! For my enemy has been active. He has been missing
from his usual haunts, and has been trying to discover my husband’s
whereabouts. This I have been told by the people who, on my behalf, have
been watching Karenieff. He did not come here to seek me, because he
knew I was not here. That he has not known exactly where I was, I can
but hope, for the sake of Victor and the friends who have helped us. But
that he has already denounced me as a traitor and Nihilist I was told
to-day on my way here. I would not have entered the house again, but
would have tried to escape, had I had means of travel with me. Besides,
I could not, in any case, have left Feo. Had I done so, my child would
surely have fallen under the vengeance of those who have gloatingly
crushed out the lives of other innocent children.
“I had hoped to get away under cover of night, but alas! what you have
told me since I came home has served to convince me that I am already
too closely watched to be permitted to escape. Dora, my friend, help me,
for the love of God! for I already feel, in anticipation, all the
horrors of the fortress, and I can no longer plan clearly.”
All this had been spoken in a voice too low to penetrate as far as the
door, but clear enough for me, whose head was bent close to madame’s, to
distinguish every word of it. For a few moments I could only continue to
gaze at my friend in blank dismay. Then, as certain possibilities
presented themselves before my mental vision, I clasped my hands
angrily, and exclaimed: “Great Heaven! why am I not tall and beautiful,
when so much size and beauty is wasted on people who do not know how to
use it?”
Recalling that time, I am not surprised at the change my apparently
irrelevant lament wrought in Madame Kominski’s demeanor. She sprang to
her feet, and fairly hissed at me in her wrath: “Fool! fool that I have
been, to imagine my troubles could really interest a comparative
stranger! I betray all my secrets to you, and implore your aid, and only
succeed in evoking from you a lamentation concerning your own lack of
beauty. God! what small minds there are in this world!”
“Madame,” I cried, springing to my feet in my turn, “you mistake me. I
am devoted to you, and will do anything to help you. I expressed myself
clumsily, but I meant to say that if I were more like you I would change
places with you. As it is, the plan is hopeless. But we will think of
something else. God is not always on the side of the mighty.”
As I spoke, I put my arms round madame and kissed her affectionately.
The revulsion of feeling produced in her mind by my words and actions
broke the intense strain under which she had labored, and she embraced
me convulsively, a perfect storm of sobs shaking her frame. I strove as
best I could with my own emotion and let madame cry on. I knew it would
do her good. Presently she grew calmer, and after a while her sobs
ceased altogether.
“I am better now,” she said. “I feel as if a great cloud were rolled
from my brain. I can think and plan once more. My mother, they say, had
the courage of a martyr. If I fall, my enemies shall not gloat over my
cowardice. Suppose we open the doors again. It is not wise to show a spy
that we fear him.”
I had just opened the door, and put the portière into its usual
position, when Trischl, the German nurse, came to see her mistress. She
walked into the room without invitation, but preserved nevertheless her
usual respectful demeanor. “I believe madame needs friends,” she said in
a low, cautious voice. “I have seen that which makes me think so. Madame
has been good to me. If she will not be angry at my presumption, I will
be her faithful helper.”
As Trischl ceased speaking, she looked at her mistress anxiously, as if
half afraid of reproof. But of that she met none, and the friendly clasp
of the hand with which madame tried to show her appreciation of the risk
the faithful creature was running in offering to help a suspect was to
her a seal of allegiance. For a little while we deliberated together,
forming and rejecting one plan after another. Presently an unusually
vigorous peal at the visitor’s bell made itself heard even here, where
the sonorous reverberations seldom penetrated. We all turned pale and
the same unspoken question was in all our eyes: “Is the enemy already
upon us? Is it too late to escape?” Even evils are welcomed at times,
when they come in the place of a still more dreaded one, and we were all
positively relieved when a footman presently came to ask madame if she
would see Count Karenieff in the salon.
“Tell him I will see him immediately,” said madame. Instinctively both
Trischl and I knew what should be done, and we hastened to bathe
madame’s face with eau-de-cologne, to brush her hair, to alter her
toilet a little, and to give to her face the appearance of quiet
composure by means of a little powder and rouge. The results were
arrived at quickly. The effect was good, and madame’s bearing and
appearance, as she went down to interview her mortal enemy, were the
reverse of those of a betrayed and despairing woman, who anticipated a
horrible fate in the near future.
“Temporize with him,” I had counseled while hurriedly assisting with her
toilet. “Feign ignorance of his cruel intentions. If he asks you again
to marry him, do not insult him, but seem as if you had altered your
opinion of him. Ask him to give you a day to deliberate. It would be so
much time gained for us.”
The nod of comprehension with which she left us showed that she
considered my advice to be good, and I felt more hopeful of the result
of the interview between the courageous woman and the dastardly man than
I could have believed possible half an hour before.
“And now,” said Trischl, “there is no time to be lost. There are spies
in the house. But we can be as clever as spies, if we like, and we must
prepare things for madame’s departure as soon as possible. All her
jewelry must be hidden somehow, so that she can easily carry it away.”
I felt that Trischl was right, and that a desperate emergency like this
was not the time to stand on ceremony. Fifteen minutes later a strange
face peeped in at the open door for a moment. We were both diligently
employed. To all appearances we were both innocently employed. Trischl
was quilting some silk, of which she purposed making a kind of cuff, to
be tied above the elbows. I was indulging in the prosaic occupation of
mending a pair of corsets. Could the fellow who had glanced at us have
seen that a pile of jewelry lay underneath the aprons Trischl and I had
donned, he would perhaps have been slightly surprised. Had he had a
suspicion that I had just stitched a parure of diamonds into the corset,
and that Trischl was quilting the silk over a beautiful pearl necklace,
he might perhaps have thought it advisable to report the occurrence to
his superiors. As it was, he passed on, in blissful ignorance of our
real occupation, and it was certainly not our business to enlighten him.
“Here is madame,” said Trischl presently; and I looked anxiously at
Madame Kominski, to see if I could tell the result of the interview from
her bearing. Trischl rose hastily to her feet, seemingly overwhelmed
with confusion at having been caught occupying her mistress’s seat. She
had forgotten that her quilting task was not finished, and some valuable
rings rolled across the floor, the incident evoking a little surprise in
the mind of their owner. But while Trischl hurriedly tried to recover
the runaways, I explained what we had been doing.
“What a clever idea!” said madame. “I should never have thought of such
capital hiding-places myself. If I manage to quit Russia, I shall
probably be in great need of money, and will be glad to realize the
value of the jewelry.”
“I hope things are not so desperate as we have feared,” I hazarded.
“You shall judge,” was the reply. “Karenieff was evidently prepared to
find me more antagonistic to him than I showed myself, and I think my
bearing convinced him that my suspicions concerning him were not
aroused.
“‘I am sorry to have kept you waiting,’ I said, ‘but the truth is, I was
busy with my toilet and could not come before.’
“He cast upon me a swift look of surprise, and then, apparently much
gratified by the civility of my reception of him, dosed me with a few
compliments, adding that he hoped I had forgotten the wild, foolish
words he had uttered to me months ago. I actually found it possible to
laugh, as I remarked in my turn: ‘Ah, yes! We all alter our opinions of
things as time goes on. I have learned to esteem where I once despised;
and you—you, no doubt, take things more coolly than you did.’
“‘My love for you has not grown cooler,’ he exclaimed. ‘Consent to marry
me, and I will secure you immunity from trouble in the future.’
“‘Marry you! Is it possible you still wish me to become your wife?’
“‘It is not merely my wish. It is the one passion of my life! Say you
will be mine, and remove my suspense.’
“‘I do not know,’ I said, pretending to hesitate. ‘You see, I hardly
thought you would favor me again with a proposal, after my former
rudeness to you.’
“‘The woman who hesitates is lost! Have I really supplanted my
fair-haired rival?’
“‘Bah! Fair men are so insipid.’
“So they are. But you will not find me insipid, my beauty. I hate, or I
love, to madness, and either passion finds in me an ardent votary. It is
well you have chosen me for your lover rather than for your enemy, since
I have more power than you dream of.’
“‘Indeed! I did not know that you had any special vocation. You said
just now that marriage with you would bring me immunity from trouble. I
do not see how that can be, since we all have our troubles; but I wish
it were true.’
“‘It shall be true. Listen. You are in the pay of the government. The
private fortune you are supposed to have is non-existent. I know exactly
what is paid you, since my position in the secret service is so high as
to be one upon which devolves the regulation of these little things.
With one stroke of my pen I can make or mar many a life that fancies
itself secure at this moment. Now, information has been brought to me
that you, so far from being a faithful servant of the Crown, are in
league with those vagabond Nihilists. As my wife, you shall be proved
innocent. As my enemy, you would be crushed. Which is it to be?’
“I believe I acted my part very well. I was overcome by sudden terror. I
clung to the man. I wept and implored him to save me. I promised to
marry him as soon as he liked. I suffered him to embrace me. His kisses,
hot, passionate and scathing, have been showered on my face and lips. I
have listened to burning words which have made me ashamed of my
womanhood. Had I alone been concerned, I would have died rather than
have undergone the humiliation of the last half hour. But there is Feo
and Victor. For their sakes I must escape from this accursed country.”
“And you shall escape,” said Trischl, with decision. “I think I know how
it can be managed.” In another moment she had left us, hurrying away as
if struck by a fresh idea, while madame and I eyed each other anxiously.
“Has he gone?” I asked.
“For a time. I believe he has gone to stop extreme proceedings against
me. But the relief will be only momentary. I should go mad if I had to
endure his caresses often, and he may at any moment discover that I am
already married. His vengeance would then be more terrible than ever.”
“It is not to be thought of. We must act at once.”
“Here is Ivan Dromireff, madame,” said Trischl’s voice. “I met him on
the staircase.”
Both madame and I looked at the new arrival with surprise. He turned out
to be none other than her coachman, and he stood bowing awkwardly, the
while holding out a note between fingers that were much less clumsy than
his vocation would have led one to imagine them to be.
“A letter from Prince Michaelow,” he said quietly.
“How is it that it has not been sent up in the usual way?” inquired
madame sharply, receiving for answer a word of which I could not catch
the meaning, but which wrought a great change in madame’s behavior.
“Sit down,” she said eagerly, “while I read the note. And you, Trischl,
secure the door against intruders, and wait here until we decide what is
best to be done.”
Trischl, having obeyed her mistress’s order, came and stood beside Ivan.
It struck me that the footing upon which they stood was a very familiar
one, for they smiled at each other in quite an affectionate manner.
Meanwhile, madame’s proceedings were somewhat curious. She opened the
note, upon which were merely written a few lines to the effect that Feo
was enjoying herself and would remain for the night where she was. Then
she took from her pocket a bunch of keys and unlocked a small medicine
chest. From this she took two phials, each containing a colorless fluid.
Her next proceeding was to fetch a small china tray from a side-table.
Into this she emptied the two phials. When the liquids were thoroughly
mixed, she immersed the note in them and let it remain a few seconds.
When she lifted it out of the tray again, it was seen to be closely
covered with writing, some kind of sympathetic ink having been used
which had required acids to develop it. This is what was written on the
note:
“MY FRIEND—Our cause is lost. We are betrayed. Nothing but prompt
flight can save us. Count Karenieff has much in his power. If you
can dupe him for a while it will be well. Victor will elude his
enemies, I think. I have long feared this day, and have been
prepared for it. Ivan will give you a pass that will be of good
service to you. But it must be used to-night. To-morrow every
departure from the city will be closely watched. By the time you get
this we shall be well on our way. Feo will go with us, and I trust
we shall all arrive in England safely. You know the rendezvous. It
will be better for you to be unencumbered by the child. I would
advise your companion to get away, too, if she has helped you in any
way. Ivan has already made his preparations.
M.”
After passing the note on to me to read it, madame asked Ivan if he were
aware of its contents.
“I know how we are all circumstanced,” he said promptly, “and what the
prince told me will be something similar to what he has written.”
In a low, rapid voice madame read the letter over for the benefit of
Trischl and Ivan, who were now too much implicated to be excluded from
confidence. Then she struck a match and burned the note and its envelope
until they were entirely consumed. Meanwhile, I returned the acids to
their receptacles, wiped the tray, and removed every trace of the
chemical operation, giving madame the key of the medicine chest when I
had done.
“And now,” said Ivan, “for action.” A minute later he had divested
himself of his overcoat, and had made himself much less stout by the
removal of some clothes which he had had packed round his body. Then he
coolly took off his big, bushy beard and mustache, and his tously black
wig. Such a transformation as all this wrought in him! He had seemed a
rough specimen of humanity, not far removed from serfdom. He stood
before us slim, erect, fair and smooth-faced, but bearing the witnesses
of an indomitable spirit in his determined mouth, no longer hidden by
the disfiguring hair, in his fearless glance, and in his square jaw.
“Now you know me; but no names, please,” he said warningly, as madame
seemed about to exclaim aloud at sight of him. “The prince, having
induced you to accept a certain position, has always been convinced of
its danger, and has always been prepared with plans to rescue you. For
this purpose, he recommended me to your notice as coachman, in order
that no symptoms of menace might escape your friends. I have seen that
you have no more time to lose. Here is our passport. It is made out for
August Krämer, a German mercantile agent; Anna Krämer, his wife; Wilhelm
Schwartz, commission agent, and Karl Schwartz, son of the latter.”
“But that will not do for us. We are three women, not three men,” said
madame.
“If circumstances do not fit us, we must fit ourselves to circumstances,
and I think we can manage it,” said Ivan. “Trischl is my foster-sister,
and will go with us, I know. She is big enough and strong enough to
personate Schwartz, senior. You, madame, will have to figure as Herr
August Krämer, while I will do my best to make you a suitable spouse.
The young English lady will make a very nice boy. Here are some of the
things you will require. Put on as many as will be hidden by outer
clothing. Take the rest with you. In fifteen minutes follow me. I will
have the carriage waiting at the door. It shall contain a few necessary
articles which will have to be put on in the carriage. You must give me
your order to drive to one of the theaters. But be very careful. Some
one is sure to be on the watch. We will drive away openly. As soon as we
have driven off, draw the curtains and complete your disguise the best
way you can. After a while I will stop the carriage. You must then get
out, leaving nothing in the vehicle, and keeping your mantles well
wrapped round you. Walk on a few yards until I join you. The horses will
stand for some time, and I have a man ready to take them to a place
agreed upon. It will not do for them to return home too soon, and it is
just possible that we may need them. Now I must be off.”
Another minute, and he had replaced his beard and top-coat. Still a
minute more, and we three women were trying to induct ourselves into
garments such as we had never been used to. In ten minutes we had
stuffed our pockets full of wigs, beards, jewelry, papers, money and
other etceteras. I had had time to run to my room and secure my own
money and jewelry, as well as a large cloak and a hat. Everything else I
must perforce leave behind. Trischl fetched her big cloak and bonnet,
and went down to the carriage a yard or two in front of us. Punctual to
time, we stepped inside. Madame told Ivan to drive to the Alexander
Theater. Ivan touched his hat obsequiously, mounted his box, cracked his
whip, and we were started on our perilous journey.
There was no loss of time among us, after we drove off, for we knew that
promptitude on our part was a matter of life and death. It was a
somewhat cramped place in which to transform our appearance, but we had
to make the best of the situation. With hurrying, trembling fingers we
wrought at our disguise. Madame donned a tow-colored curly wig, beard,
mustache and eyebrows, and exchanged her mantle and bonnet for a
top-coat and slouch hat. Trischl adorned herself with a black beard
something like Ivan wore, and likewise donned a rough overcoat, which
she surmounted by a felt hat. I was not proud of my hair, anyway, so,
seeing what trouble the others had in disposing of theirs under their
wigs, I ruthlessly cut mine off with a pair of scissors I had brought
with me for emergencies. It was surprising how small and slight a boy I
seemed. It would be easy to pass me off as a fifteen-year-older.
When we had done our best to transform ourselves into as presentable
representatives of Messrs Krämer and Schwartz as was possible with our
resources, we commenced strapping up the cloaks and hats, the latter
being mercilessly crushed during the operation. We had barely completed
our preparations when the carriage stopped and Ivan opened the door.
“Now is our time,” he said hurriedly. “We shall barely catch the
Cronstadt boat. Go toward the boat-landing. I will follow you in a
minute.”
Without another word we obeyed Ivan’s directions. We had almost reached
the landing, when a fair-faced, rather good-looking woman grasped madame
somewhat unceremoniously by the arm, and addressed her in the whining,
ill-used tone which is the special prerogative of certain carping,
dissatisfied wives.
“I’m sure, August,” she said. “It’s easy to be seen that we’ve been
married this six years and more. I have seen the time when you wouldn’t
stalk on half a mile in front, leaving me to follow as best I could. But
times are different now, and a man isn’t above making his wife carry his
top-coat in these days. But I won’t stand it any longer. You may carry
it yourself.”
So great was the transformation that for an instant we did not see that
it was Ivan who was personating the ill-used wife. As soon as she did
become fully alive to this fact, madame took the top-coat on her arm,
instinctively apologizing for her apparent rudeness.
“No, no, that will never do,” muttered Ivan. “You are far too polite.
Keep up your rôle of a careless husband and growl harder at me than I
growl at you—if you can. There must be no appearance of haste or anxiety
to escape notice. Boldness is our best weapon.—Herr Schwartz, that son
of yours looks too much like a girl—too quiet and shy.—Here, Karl, my
boy, have a cigarette, and walk with a little more swagger—as if the
place belonged to you. Take a peep at the pretty girls you pass, and be
politely courteous, if any old ladies seem to need your services.—Herr
Krämer, you are as fidgety about that hair of yours as if you were a
woman. It is dangerous to appear too solicitous about your personal
appearance. Now, all three, please. Follow whatever cue I may think it
desirable to give you.”
Thus grumbling, admonishing and advising, the pseudo Madame Krämer
talked until we were close to the ticket-office, near which a goodly
number of people were waiting to pay their fares, have their passports
viséd, and receive their tickets to go on board the river steamer which
lay waiting for its living cargo.
I am afraid that I must confess myself not nearly so brave as I had
imagined I was, for, now that the crucial moment had come, I trembled in
every limb; whereas the others, either more habituated to the exercise
of courage, or more alive to the irretrievably fatal consequences of a
false move on their part, walked up to the barrier as nonchalantly as if
traveling by this route were a matter of daily occurrence with them.
Fortunately for us, there was an unusually large number of passengers,
many of them being of the Jewish persuasion. Upon these the rancor of
the officials seemed to concentrate itself, and while apparently
well-to-do people were merely treated unceremoniously, the followers of
Israel were harassed and insulted beyond patient endurance. Many of them
had been prosperous, but had been hounded from their homes and driven to
beggary by a cruel and rapacious tyranny that found ready helpers in its
horde of greedy, money-grabbing, red-taped myrmidons.
My heart ached for the sorrows of one miserable couple, who were
accompanied by six children, and who seemed to be bewildered by the
insults which arrogance in office heaped upon them. But I also felt
especially grateful to them. For the officials had no time to spare to
examine our passports with anything like care when there were so many
downtrodden Jews upon whom to exercise their spleen. Thus it happened
that without much fuss or questioning we soon found ourselves seated in
the deck saloon, en route for Cronstadt, the second-class passengers
being huddled forward, where they were not likely to be spoiled by the
luxury of too much comfort or accommodation.
I saw madame scan the other occupants of the saloon very searchingly.
Perhaps she thought that her daughter was among them, and it was
difficult to augur well or ill from the fact that she was not there. I
wonder if ever any one watched the endless twistings and turnings of the
Neva with more impatience than we did, or if any one ever longed more
devotedly to get beyond the oft-recurring view of St. Isaac’s golden
dome. But even as times of joy have their ending, even so is the period
of suspense and danger never interminable, and we at last found
ourselves close to Cronstadt.
We had not considered it safe to talk about our position while sitting
in the saloon or pacing the deck, lest we should be overheard and
betrayed. But we all felt breathless anxiety as we filed off the boat on
to the landing-stage, holding our tickets in readiness for the
collector.
Suppose we had been missed at St. Petersburg! Suppose Karenieff, baffled
and enraged, were already on our track! Suppose a wire had been sent
here, conveying orders to detain and arrest us!
Anticipation presented numberless possibilities, all of which, as we
walked ashore without hindrance, seemed as if they were to be happily
negatived by the reality.
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