One of the city gates lay in this direction: that which gave upon the
road leading to our own home, the Ukraine. I must at least make sure
that Mazeppa intended to take this road. That much ascertained I might
rest a little while, or even, perhaps, return for my horse.
Meanwhile the rumble of the wheels in front of me grew fainter with
distance; if it had not been night time, and this the only sound
audible, I should have lost it long since.
Suddenly I did lose it. Either they were already at the gate and had
stopped to be allowed to pass out by the sleepy custodian, or I had
fallen out of the range of earshot.
I made a last effort, using all my remaining strength to cover a few
hundred yards in case they should be delayed at the gate, and presently
I was rewarded by hearing the carriage wheels once more, this time much
nearer.
But I could run no further. I staggered forward at a walk and reached
the gate; the noise of the wheels had passed out of hearing.
A drowsy peasant in a cart drawn by a little horse which walked in its
sleep, according to the custom of these little Finnish or Russian
ponies, had just passed into the city. This man sulkily informed me that
some Barin had just passed out in his travelling carriage. To the
gatekeeper he had given his destination as Kief.
Then I stood and thought for a moment, and as the result of my
reflections I hastened homewards for my horse, old Boris, who would
carry me to the Ukraine at a gallop if I but shook the reins and laid
them upon his neck.
But my lodgings were a long way from this part of the city, and it was
nearly an hour before I was back again at the gate and after my quarry.
That would matter little if I could keep upon their track; but Mazeppa,
being a fox, would employ every device to set possible pursuers at their
wit’s end. Therefore I concluded that whichsoever of the many branching
roads he might have chosen for his flight it would not be the Kiefsky
road, since he had given that city as his destination.
Yet even in this Mazeppa showed wheels within wheels of subtlety, for it
proved in the end that he had actually done that which anyone knowing
him would suppose to be the most unlikely thing of all, having selected
the very road which he had named. And it must be confessed that he thus
completely outwitted me, for I spent all that first night in galloping
desperately down one road and then another, finding no trace of the
fugitives anywhere; and when, at morning, it was necessary to give Boris
a rest, I was no wiser as to their whereabouts than I had been when I
left the gates of Moscow last night.
But Boris and I were used to hard work together, and we rested but a few
hours before recommencing our search. Suffice to say that forty-eight
priceless hours had been wasted in fruitless ridings forward and
backward before I felt sure that we were at last upon the right track.
‘Now for a long and hard gallop, Boris, my friend,’ said I, patting his
neck, and away went the good horse upon a scent nearly two days old, and
lo! to my surprise and delight, on the third night I ran into the
quarry.
It was at midnight that we rode up to a post-house upon the Kiefsky
road. I did not expect more than news of the fugitives: they had passed,
I should be told, so many hours before; yet when the night groom came
forward to take my orders he began by telling me, if I desired the
_nochliog_, or night’s rest, I must sleep in the stable, for wonderful
things were happening here.
‘Never mind the wonderful things, fool; tell me quickly how long since
there passed a _dormése_ containing a man and a woman, besides the
driver?’
‘It has not passed at all,’ said the fellow, grinning and scratching his
head, ‘because it is still here!’
‘Come into the stable quickly!’ I said, fearful lest he should be heard,
supposing that this wondrous thing were really true. ‘Now,’ I continued,
when we had entered the horse-shed and closed the door, ‘tell me what
you were going to say at first.’
‘The man is sleeping in the travelling carriage because the woman has
barricaded herself in the post-room; this is the second night: the
postmaster argues and scolds all day, but it is useless. “If he tries to
come in here,” says the woman, “he shall be killed!” As for the man, he
laughs and says, “We shall see what will happen when her stomach craves
for food!” “God knows,” says the master, “how it will end!”’
‘That I will soon show you, my friend,’ said I, ‘for I have come to end
it!’
I hastened to the post-room. ‘If you don’t wish to be slit in two halves
or have your brains set flowing, go not near that mad thing,’ said the
groom. ‘Lord! you should hear her cry out at the other!’
Disregarding his warnings, to his great alarm I knocked at the door of
the post-room, saying it was I, Chelminsky, come to deliver her.
‘Ah,’ said Vera’s voice from within, ‘it is that devil, assuming
Chelminsky’s voice. I am not so easily deceived, Mazeppa!’
‘It is indeed I, Vera,’ said I joyously. ‘I have followed you with
difficulty, but I have found you at last.’
‘Oh!’ cried she from within, ‘it sounds like Chelminsky; but dare I open
and risk it? Remember, if it is you, Mazeppa, you devil, that if you
touch me you die--I swear it again and again.’
‘How shall I prove it to you that I am I?’ said I in despair. ‘I was
watching in Vaiseuk’s hut and saw you carried out by night. Is that
proof?’
Then Vera opened the door a little and peeped out, and with a cry of joy
she threw it open and fell upon me with tears and embraces, which latter
I returned with interest, being the first I had given or received from
this modest and splendid maiden.
‘Now, shut yourself up once again, for I shall first settle accounts
with Mazeppa,’ said I. ‘In case he should better me, you will be worse
off than before!’
‘No, I will see this account settled,’ she said; and when I bade her
take her sword or her pistol, or whatsoever it was she had had with her
in the room--that with which she threatened to take his life if he
should have attempted the door--she told me to my surprise that she had
nothing!
‘Threats are good weapons against some foes,’ she said, laughing!
Nevertheless I gave Vera my own dagger, for I liked not that she should
be unarmed, in case of accident, and bade her keep it in her bosom.
Then we went to find Mazeppa in his _dormése_, wherein he slept soundly.
‘Awake, Mazeppa,’ I cried, ‘for I am here!’
He opened his eyes and saw me, saw Vera also; yet he did not become
confused or show terror or surprise even in the moment of waking.
‘What, you, Chelminsky,’ he said, ‘and come so far after this baggage?
Well, take her, my friend, if you think her worth the having; as for me,
I have changed my opinion!’
‘I shall certainly take her,’ said I, ‘and that without your permission;
but first you shall fight me----’
‘What, for her sake? Dear man! believe me, she is not worth it: I have
spent three days in her company, and it is enough. If you are wise, let
the fat Russian Boyar have her. We were right to save her from the
puling little Tsar! They two would breed devils and idiots to rule
Russia withal!’
‘Fie, Mazeppa,’ said I, ‘a Cossack and a coward!’
‘Lord, man, you know better than that! I like you, Chelminsky; we are
old friends. I nearly got you knouted the other day, but I was angry; I
wanted the wench here, knowing no better. Now it is different. I will
not fight on her account--the she-devil! I have scratches upon me from
her nails, and kicks from her feet. Another day I will fight, if you
will, upon somewhat better pretext.’
‘Get out of the _dormése_, then,’ I said, ‘for I require it for this
lady.’
‘What!’ said he, climbing out nevertheless, ‘you will not be advised?
Let her go, man, and come back with me: I know her better than you. I
have had some experience with women.’
‘Mazeppa, the married man!’ Vera laughed suddenly.
‘True,’ said he, ‘there is that little affair, too, Chelminsky: some day
we may exchange a few passes, but not to-night. It is scarcely worth a
man’s while to be wakened--much less to be obliged to draw a sword--upon
so trifling a matter as the destination of a scolding woman. Take her,
man, or let her go to the devil: as for me, I shall sleep.’
With these words Mazeppa withdrew to the post-house, and we saw no more
of him. I ought, perhaps, to have chastised him or forced him to fight;
but his attitude surprised and silenced me, and I think I felt some
admiration for a man who could accept defeat so excellently.