I promised Olga to consider this matter, and so prevailed upon her to
leave me. When she had gone I gave vent to the laughter which I had with
difficulty restrained.
Here was a fury indeed! First she would have her rival killed, then
tortured with jealousy, and the prize for either service, herself. Now
during the conversation with this woman I had discovered one thing for
certain, namely, that I cared not one jot for her fascinations; she no
longer had power to move me. The only feeling of which I was conscious
in speaking with her was a great desire to give her as sore a heart as
she had once given me, could I but devise a way to do so. It was for
this reason that I left the decision as it were in doubt, as though I
would consider the matter; whereas all I wished was for time to see
whether there was any way of turning this new attitude of hers to
advantage.
I was not many hours older that day when of a sudden Mazeppa came raging
to my lodging, full of a grievance against me.
‘Thou hast played a double game, Chelminsky,’ said he, looking very
evilly at me. ‘Explain; for I trusted thee and thou hast played me
false!’
‘Explain, rather, thou,’ I replied, laughing, ‘for I know not how I have
offended.’
‘It has come to my knowledge,’ said Mazeppa, ‘that Vera Kurbatof was in
sanctuary at the Diévitchy monastery; that she was placed there by none
other than thyself, and that even when I set thee to find her, trusting
thee, her hiding place was all the while known to thee, though thou
didst make a show of ignorance. See! Chelminsky, a true friend should
not act thus.’
‘Bah!--it is nothing, Mazeppa; you do me injustice. It is true that I
placed her in sanctuary--could I have done better on your behalf? As for
keeping silence, I was persuaded by Vera to tell no living soul of her
hiding place. I had been dogged by some spy, remember, and this--though
the rascal came off second best--so alarmed the girl that she bade me
behave most cautiously.’
‘But you visited her there, my friend, more than once, and even
fought--as I am informed--to protect her----’
‘Dear Heaven, would you not have done the same, man? They came to carry
her to the _terem_, which was exactly what must at all costs be avoided!
I thought to have praise and thanks from you when I should have told my
tale, instead of which I am abused as though I had committed a great
crime! Truly, Mazeppa, thou art an ungrateful friend, and I am sorry I
toiled and bled for thy sake!’
Mazeppa gazed long and fixedly in my face. I knew well what passed in
his mind. He was trying to decide whether I was fool or deceiver;
whether in reality I had played a double game with Vera, or a simple one
as I declared. It was difficult to preserve an even countenance. At
length I could bear it no longer, and burst into laughter.
‘What ails thee this day, Mazeppa? Why dost thou gaze at me in this
solemn fashion? let us have an understanding. What is in thy mind
concerning me?’
‘I will tell thee what I have thought,’ he said. ‘I have greatly feared
that throughout this matter thy care for Vera Kurbatof has been more for
thy own sake than for mine. If it be so, Chelminsky, and thou desirest
this wench for thyself, beware what thou dost, for by the saints I shall
win in the end.’
‘To what purpose is all this talking,’ said I, most innocently; ‘what
do I gain by befriending this wench; what is she to me? If I have done
my best to save her from the _terem_, this has been done at thy own
request.’
‘Well, I have long suspected thee. Any man might well desire so fair a
creature, and it has seemed to me that she is more to thee than thou
wouldst have me think. I am determined that none shall possess this
maiden but I. Be sure, my friend, that when Mazeppa is resolved upon any
matter, that matter is in the end accomplished.’
‘Dear heart!’ I exclaimed, laughing aloud, ‘have the girl for thy own if
thou canst--what is she to me? Only I have done with serving thee in
this matter. To be treated thus, and threatened, and what not, after I
have toiled and bled in thy cause! This is ingratitude, Mazeppa, and thy
thanklessness shall serve thee ill; for be sure thou shalt need a friend
to help thee before Vera is thine and safely in thy hands!’
‘Well, if I have truly wronged you, I ask pardon. I am in love with the
wench, and a man in love is not his own master; forgive me if I have
suspected you foolishly. Continue to be my friend in this, I pray you.
You have done excellently, so far; so well, indeed, that it is your very
zeal that has caused me to suspect you of working for yourself and not
for me. But stay, why shall I need a friend now that she is safely out
of the _terem_? Are there difficulties that I know not of?’
‘There is the old Boyar, her father. Failing her marriage with the Tsar
he has, I know, other intentions for her. There is a rich and powerful
Boyar, their neighbour in the country, for whom he intends her--an old
man.’
‘Good, an old man. Ha! then the wench herself will be on our side; we
will devise a plan, Chelminsky, and thou shalt help me to carry her
away. By the saints, it seems I have wronged thee most foully! The
beauty of the girl is my excuse, for truly I do not even now understand
how any man can know her and not love her. Lord! when I think of it, I
suspect thee still!’
‘That is for ever the way of a man when he is fully in love; he must
needs suspect that all other men are of the same way of thinking as
himself! It is a good thing that men differ in their opinion of a woman.
This Vera is certainly fair enough, but to my eyes there are others as
fair and fairer. I doubt not my old love will come back to me, now that
she has failed to outdo Praskovia Soltikof in the regard of the Tsar. I
would punish her for her conduct in throwing me over, but, by the
saints, one must forgive her something for her good looks: she is as
splendid as the day, and that is plain truth.’
‘Olga Panief you speak of? Yes, she is splendid, and I doubt not she
would return to thee; but--shall I deal friendly with thee, Chelminsky?’
‘If you will; have I not deserved it?’
‘I fear thy anger; well, I will brave it for thy sake. Be careful with
this wench Olga, my friend. Do not trust her too much. I have told thee
of her violence within the _terem_ when she found that the Tsar would
choose Praskovia before her. She is a fiend, no less. She is mad with
rage and the desire of vengeance. This very day she has avowed her love
for me, or rather she has offered me her love upon conditions----’
‘Avowed her love for you!’ I exclaimed, starting to my feet, as though
in fury, though in truth I felt more inclined to laugh than to rage;
‘and you dare to tell me this, Mazeppa?’
‘Stay, I speak as your friend. “Kill this Praskovia for me,” said Olga,
“and I am yours,” or words to that effect. I bade her depart from me and
not speak as a fool and a mad woman. I tell you this for your advantage,
that you should not trust her too much.’
‘Does she love you, think you, Mazeppa? Would she have come to you thus
but for the hope of persuading you to avenge her?’
Now, Mazeppa was one who forever believed that every woman must of
necessity fall in love with him if he but raised his finger to encourage
her, and it is certain that he was generally a successful lover. Even at
this moment, when he was very desirous of my friendship and assistance,
he could not resist the delight of hinting that he had made a conquest
of Olga.
‘If she loves me it matters little, for I vow that she shall have no
encouragement from me, my friend, now that I know you still desire her.
I doubt not that you will win her, but, as I say, trust her not too
much. Now, as to Vera Kurbatof, of whom you have lately seen more than
I, have you spoken to her of me; is she inclined, think you, to my
suit?’
‘I have scarcely spoken of you. She is aware that you would have
befriended her. You have told me the truth as to Olga; shall I be
equally frank as to Vera?’
Mazeppa looked astonished, then somewhat angry; but he bade me speak on.
‘I have been so good a friend to her and served her so well,’ said I,
‘that it would be wonderful if so gentle a maid were not grateful----’
‘Grateful, well,’ interrupted Mazeppa; ‘but dare not tell me there is
more than gratitude. By heaven, Chelminsky, if, after all, you have
fooled me and have sought to gain this maiden’s love----’
‘Oh, oh! I have sought nothing; if she is grateful and her gratitude has
inclined her to bestow upon me a certain sweet friendly kindness which
might, I admit, one day develop into a warmer regard, am I to blame? I
speak as a friend. I have not wooed her back; take her and win her,
Mazeppa, if thou wilt, and if she will also!’
‘A pretty confession to make indeed!’ cried Mazeppa, striding angrily
about the room, too furious to perceive that his own admission had been
the very same. ‘By the saints, I know not whether to trust thee or no! I
know not whether thou art most fool or knave!’
Truly love had made of Mazeppa himself for the time being more fool than
knave! Never was this old fox less of a fox than on this day! Well, he
had called me fool before the Tsar Peter, assuring his Highness that I
was too great a fool to make a Cossack Hetman. We should see who was the
greater fool to-day, he or I; for indeed I had a plan in my mind to make
so great a fool of him that he should remember for evermore how he had
miscalled me!