I took Mazeppa’s message to Vera Kurbatof, but Vera was agitated and
disinclined to accept the suggestion of my friend.
‘It is foolish,’ she said, ‘and dangerous. What if the Tsar should see
me and say something, or even look something? all would then be lost.
Remember, I would die rather than be chosen by him. Moreover, does
Mazeppa think that the Grand Duchess forgets so easily? Tell him that I
was sent for to the palace and that the Tsar kissed my hand. That was my
death warrant unless I escape. I tell you, as I myself was told by her
Highness, that I am kept in reserve as a kind of trump card: these other
maidens are a mere concession to the Tsarish custom and to the feared
expostulations of the Boyars, who are accustomed to enjoy the chance of
providing each Tsar with a bride. The Tsar will not look seriously at
them. It is mere foolishness to bring me into the lion’s den. How shall
I come forth again, think you?’
‘Mazeppa, I suppose, has some scheme for your salvation. It is he that
suggests it: he would scarcely place you in the lion’s den--he of all
others--unless he knew of a way to get you out again, and once for all!’
‘Why he of all others?’ asked Vera.
‘You seem to have left your fate in his hands: he will help you to
escape, but be sure that he intends to profit by your devotion to him!’
‘My devotion to him? You use a foolish term, sir. There is no
speculation in Mazeppa’s generosity. He has offered to help me from
motives of pure sympathy. He would not see me made a living sacrifice.’
‘Why think you so well of Mazeppa?’ I asked.
‘He has understood my position and has offered to save me from that
which would be worse than death to me. There has been no talk of reward.
He wishes for none and asks none. As for devotion, that--as I say--was a
foolish expression. There is no such thing on either side.’
‘So be it,’ I said; ‘only be sure that Mazeppa is not one to labour for
nothing.’
Vera was silent for a little while. At last she spoke.
‘I see that you imply more than you say. Do you then know so much of
Mazeppa that you mistrust his motives in offering to assist me?’
‘I know that Mazeppa admires a good-looking woman,’ I laughed, ‘and that
you are one; also that he admires you even more than other fair women;
and lastly, that what Mazeppa admires he covets, and what he covets he
generally obtains, by fair means or foul.’
‘You should need to know a man well indeed before you would speak thus
of him,’ Vera murmured. ‘Why do you suggest this of Mazeppa?’
‘To say truth, because I do not wish you to put yourself in his hands.
He is dangerous.’
‘But if I do not so, what else am I to do? to whom shall I go for help?
You are kind and appear to take an interest in me, but have you any
alternative plan if I refuse this of Mazeppa?’
‘I should be cruel indeed if I disadvised one plan and had no
alternative to suggest,’ I said. ‘As for “interest in you,” perhaps I,
too, know a beautiful woman when I see her!’
‘And, like him again, are not one to labour without reward, you would
say? Go away then, sir; I have no rewards such as you suggest, either
for yourself or for Mazeppa. I will find some way out of this danger
without your help or his. Fie, sir! are you not ashamed to speak so?’
‘You go too fast!’ I said, laughing. ‘It was your own suggestion, not
mine, that I expect a reward for serving. I expect none. I only said
that I am interested in you because you are beautiful: is that so great
a sin?’
‘It is enough to indicate that having served me you will afterwards ask
a reward. All men are alike.’
‘Well, see now, Vera Stepanovna,’ I said, ‘you do me injustice, for I
had been married ere this, but that my bride was carried off for the
Tsar’s choosing. A man thus used may surely be credited with
disinterestedness in offering service to a woman!’
‘If that is so,’ she said, after a short silence, ‘I will listen to your
proposal. Forgive me if I did you an injustice,’ she added; ‘it may be
that in my present terror and agitation I have lost my manners.’
‘I forgive everything at such a time,’ I replied, ‘for I understand that
you speak and act as one who stands at the edge of an abyss. I see no
way of escape for you excepting by disappearance. That is my view of the
matter. It you stay here, that is at your father’s house, you remain in
constant danger, almost as much so as though you were actually within
the _terem_----’
‘That is true,’ she said, sighing; ‘but your scheme, if that is the
whole of it, is but a barren one; for how is a maiden to disappear in
this city, more especially one who is well known and easily found?’
‘There is more in my scheme. I suggest that you go for sanctuary, but
secretly of course, to the Diévitchy monastery.’
‘And take the veil? Oh, no, no! I love life and freedom, and God’s air.
I could not be a nun with shorn head and a heart as bare of hope and the
joy of life!’
‘You need not be a nun. You shall seek refuge for awhile only, until the
Tsar is well married and all this is forgotten. Your hair may remain a
crown of glory to you as now. God forbid that it should be taken from
you!’
‘You speak impossibilities. You do not know how strict is this
community. Once lie in their clutches, and forever the world is shut out
to you, and joy and the delight of living and of loving--oh! there could
be but one thing worse: to be married to this prince. Oh! why am I so
plagued for my sins that I must choose one of two such horrible things?
Search your imagination, good Chelminsky, I pray you; think of a better
way!’
‘This is a good way, be assured. It so happens that I have done these
nuns and their Superior a service for which they have promised me a
return. I shall demand that they give you sanctuary, and they will
concede it. When you wish you shall come out, and with you shall come
your golden head all unshorn, and your heart no more dead to the joy of
living and loving than to-day--in short, you shall come forth, when the
Tsar is safely married, just as you now go in!’
‘Oh, Chelminsky, do not jest with me!’ she cried, her hands clasped
together, her eyes full of tears. ‘How could you obtain so great a
favour? What is the claim you have upon these holy women? Remember,
there is the curse of God for liars; more especially for such as lie to
the ruin and despair of helpless women!’
I told Vera the story of my encounter with Rachmanof, and of his
sister’s attempted abduction from the convent, and how the Superior had
expressed gratitude for the service I rendered this lady in preventing
her brother in his designs.
‘Oh, Chelminsky!’ exclaimed Vera, flushing and seizing me by the arm,
‘beware, I beseech you, after this. I know him, this Rachmanof: he is a
man of evil temper; he will kill you at sight. His sister is beautiful.
I do not wonder that you should have risked so much for her sake!’
‘Oh, believe me,’ I laughed, ‘I scarcely looked at her face. What I did
I should have done for any woman so situated. Come, is my offer a good
one? What say you?’
‘It is so good that I scarcely dare believe in it. Can I trust you? The
Cossacks, it is said, are a wild race, caring little for the rights of
others, or for the honour of women, so only they have their way. You
have shown me that Mazeppa is not to be trusted; how can I tell that you
are any better, who are his friend?’
‘You cannot tell, of course. Cossacks are said to be untrustworthy, and
you cannot be blamed for your doubting. Mazeppa is a fox whom I have
only lately caught in my own fowl-run: do not take him into account or
measure me by his standard. Let him be. For the matter of that, let me
be also if you will not trust me. I desire to serve you, that is all I
can say--believe it or not.’
Vera gazed for a little while into my face. ‘I do not think you are
altogether trustworthy,’ she said, a faint smile playing for an instant
about her mouth, ‘judging, I mean, by your face. I fear that you do not
consider it wrong or dishonourable to deceive others to your own
advantage; yet I am inclined to trust you now----’
‘Because you must, and there is no other way,’ I cried, laughing aloud.
‘Come, speak the full truth and I will do the same. Yes, I think little
of deception when it is necessary to my well-being; but I am a poor
deceiver compared with Mazeppa. In this I am not so good a Cossack as
he; in other ways I think I am a better. At this moment I am altogether
honest; I do desire to serve you----’
‘But why? If only I could understand your motive in this I should be
easier in my mind.’
‘Lord knows,’ I laughed. ‘If you will have my opinion, however, I
believe it is that, since I have discovered that Mazeppa admires you, I
have begun to admire you also. I have lately determined to get the
better of Mazeppa, or try to do so, in every matter in which our
destinies meet, throughout life. I suppose, therefore, that I wish you
to think better of me than of him.’
Vera was silent for a moment. Then she burst into a delightful torrent
of laughter, so that for a while she could not speak.
‘Come,’ she said at last, clapping her hands and coughing, ‘that is
truth, real naked truth. Oh! what a motive! But it is truth, and I will
trust you. Come, when shall we go?’
‘This moment, if you please,’ said I, gazing at the girl in a kind of
rapture. I had never seen her look so beautiful as now, with the colour
in her cheeks and the tears of mirth in her eyes. She was charming
indeed!