"I thought that few of the nobles of this city possessed charity

sufficient to shelter a humble Gipsy boy; but I see that I am mistaken,

and may blessings rest on the head of the good and kind Prince," said

Azila.

"He is indeed, kind," said one of the boys, "for he has sent us

abundance of good things to eat, and his servants told us we should have

more, and that he would send us away with plenty of money in our

pockets."

"He will not go unrewarded. See, Conrin! I have bound up your

brother's arm, and he will now do well, and if the kind Prince will let

you remain, you must take charge of him, for I have matters of

importance to attend to, and must away!"

Hearing this, the Count moved from the door, and went in search of a

servant.

"Go quickly," said he, "to the chamber where the wounded boy and the

Gipsy girl are, and say that the Prince--mark you, the Prince, your

master, desires to see her, ere she departs, to inquire how her brother

fares; then conduct her to the state apartment. Guard her well, and see

that she escapes not, by any chance."

The Count repaired immediately to the magnificent room he had mentioned,

to await the coming of Azila. The floor was covered with rich Turkey

carpets; superb pictures, and mirrors, reaching from the ground to the

highly embossed ceiling, ornamented the walls, the latter reflecting the

luxurious and handsome furniture which filled the room, while from the

windows was seen an extensive view of the beautiful city of Moscow.

"Though other means have failed," he said, "I will try if she is not to

be tempted by this display of magnificence and luxury to become the

mistress here. Surely a girl, brought up beneath a skin-covered tent,

cannot resist such a temptation; and if so, my conquest is easy."

He stood partly concealed by the thick drapery of the curtains; a light

step approached; Azila entered the apartment, and the door was closed

behind her. She was dressed in the same graceful costume as when Ivan

and Thaddeus had first seen her, except that a cloak, worn over her

dress, almost concealed her form. She advanced to the centre of the

apartment, ere she had perceived the Count, when he turned towards her.

She started slightly as she saw him, but betrayed no other sign of

trepidation or fear.

"I must have been deceived," she said. "I came to thank the noble

Prince Raziminski for his kindness and charity to a wounded boy of my

tribe; but it seems that to you is due the credit of that charitable

deed. I will send some of our people to take away the child, and beg to

offer you our grateful thanks for your charity in taking care of him.

With your leave I will now depart."

She was turning to go, when the Count advanced somewhat nearer towards

her.

"Lovely girl," he said, with an impassioned air, "I took advantage of

the boy's accident, and used an excusable artifice to draw you here. I

sought but to see you, to convince you of the ardour--the truth of my

affection. Believe me, that I regret the violence I before used, which

your coldness--your cruelty compelled me to resort to. Let me hear my

pardon from those lips, beautiful maiden! 'tis all I ask for!"

"For the favour you have done to one of my tribe, I would endeavour to

forget any injury you would have caused me. Beyond this, I have nothing

to forgive: I bear you no malice, noble Lord! and all I now ask is leave

to depart," said Azila.

"Still haughty and cold! why this indifference? you know not the love--

the passion--with which your charms have inspired my bosom. Surely it

cannot be in your nature to be thus so cruel to me, who love you to

desperation, who would do ought to please you. Behold this spacious

palace! these magnificent chambers! Are they not superior to your

skin-covered tents? Remain, and you shall be mistress of all;

numberless servants will obey you; sumptuous fare shall be served to

you; boundless wealth shall be at your command. Every luxury and

indulgence which love can invent shall surround you, if you will but

consent to accept them at my hands. Whatever you may desire--any

thing--every thing shall be granted to you?"

"I make but one simple demand," answered the maiden. "It is to be

allowed to depart, free as I came;--more I cannot say."

"Have you no other answer to make than that, cruel, inexorable maiden?

Hear me!" exclaimed the Count, throwing himself at her feet, and seizing

her hand, which she vainly endeavoured to disengage. "Hear me! I love,

I adore you to desperation; your very coldness has inflamed my passion!

the bright glance of your eyes consumes me; the sweet tones of your

voice thrill through my frame, and drive me to madness at the thought of

losing you! I cannot exist without you. Hear me once again! I offer

you wealth, power, unbounded luxury! I offer you more--my name--my

rank--for well could you, as the Countess Erintoff, grace that station.

Speak, ere I die at your feet, for I rise not till you give me hopes of

life and happiness with you."

Azila for an instant seemed moved, and turned aside her head, to avoid

his fixed gaze; but there was no answering softness in the expression of

her full bright eye.

She spoke at length: "Rise, noble Lord! rise, you but demean yourself by

thus bending before one humble as myself! I am grateful for your

generous offers, but I cannot accept them. A captive can make no just

conditions with his jailor, and I still ask but one favour; to depart as

I came."

The Count started from the ground, astonishment and rising fury blending

in his look.

"Can that heart," he exclaimed, "be so frozen by the frosts of winter,

that it is callous to the voice of love? But no, it would be contrary

to the law of nature, it is impossible! Maiden, you love another! I

know it--answer me--is it not the truth? By heavens! I cannot brook a

rival in your love, and he shall deeply rue it!"

As the Count spoke, a blush did now for the first time rise on her

cheeks and brow, and as he went on threatening his vengeance, with

furious action against his rival, the colour again forsook her face, and

left her as she then stood in an unintentionally commanding attitude;

like some lovely statue of a goddess uttering her commands to mortals.

"If my love is given to another, why ask me for what I no longer

possess? but I say not, that it is so. Again I ask to depart; for in no

way, while an unwilling prisoner, could I make any engagements with my

captor."

The Count advanced furiously again to seize her hand, but she started

back a step from him.

"Girl," he cried, "think you I can tamely submit to be thus despised, to

have my love--my devotion trampled on. Again I ask you, consent to

return here--to become my Countess! to accept my love, and you are free

to depart; my carriage shall then convey you where you will."

"It cannot be," answered Azila, firmly, "I have but to repeat my former

words."

"Rash girl, your obduracy has driven me to madness, and the blame must

rest on your own head!" exclaimed the Count, again springing forward to

seize her; but she calmly retreated, placing her hand beneath her vest.

"Proud noble, forbear! I fear you not, for I venture not abroad without

the means of defending myself, since you first taught me the necessity

of so doing. Advance another step, and you either destroy me or

yourself." The Count seemed again about to spring forward, when she

drew a dagger from beneath her vest, and pointed it to her bosom.

"See," she said, "my weapon is of so fine a tempered steel, that even my

feeble arm will suffice to protect me."

The Count stood astounded; he seemed fearful of advancing, and unable to

speak, as she continued:

"Now let me depart, lead the way and I will follow you. See! I hold my

firmest protector to my bosom, so attempt not to stop me, or the first

hand that is laid on me will be the signal of my death. I fear not to

die, so think not to detain me; with full confidence I leave the boys of

my tribe under your care."

The Count exclaimed, "Inexplicable girl! you have conquered for a time;

I now obey you! but you have kindled an inextinguishable flame within my

bosom, which will consume us both. We must soon meet again. I will

lead the way as you desire."

Uttering these words, the Count led the way from the apartment towards

the hall of entrance, where the domestics stood with amazed looks, as

their haughty lord passed, followed by the humble Gipsy girl. The

portal stood open as Azila passed out, bowing coldly to the Count, when

he stepped aside to allow her to pass; she did not cast a glance at the

others who were present. She seemed more like some distinguished guest

respectfully attended to the entrance of the mansion by her host, than

one of a despised and lowly race, escaping from the toils of a proud and

libertine noble.

The Count retreated to the upper apartments of his sumptuous palace,

moody, and furious at his defeat. The ruffian Groff was then summoned

to attend him.

"Hear me, villain," he exclaimed, "the youth I spoke of must die! I

will have no doubt or hesitation on your part. The sum I promised you,

when I hear of his death, shall be doubled; although you have enough to

revenge for your own sake, without requiring any other stimulant. Mark

me! he has again crossed my path, so let there be no delay, for I cannot

longer endure the thought that he should triumph over me."

"Your orders are sufficiently clear," Sir, answered Groff, "and they

shall be obeyed without fear of the consequences. I am not a man to

hesitate in my duty to so generous a master; and perhaps you will

recollect that my first plan succeeded as far as it was in my power; the

ultimate failure will be no fault of mine."

"I understand you, knave, you would receive your wages as you proceed;

here, take this purse, it contains a trifle in comparison with the sum

you will be soon possessed of, if I do not mistake. Now begone! and let

me not see your face till you can bring me the news I wish to hear."

Groff departed, and the Count continued pacing the floor with feelings,

of which few would envy him the possession.

Volume 1, Chapter XI.

It was a dark and stormy night. The wind blew in violent and fitful

gusts through the ill-lighted and irregular streets, now and then

entirely extinguishing some of the few straggling lamps, while the

remainder gave but a feeble and uncertain light, as the rain rushed down

in torrents, making the road and pathway slippery with slime and mud.

The night had just closed in; yet, notwithstanding the inclemency and

boisterousness of the weather, and the difficulties of the road, persons

were still wandering abroad on various avocations, when a figure closely

muffled in a large cloak, (apparently to shield himself from the

tempest), issued from a side door of the palace of the Count Erintoff.

He walked hastily along, keeping on the darker sides of the streets, as

if to avoid recognition, and paused not till he reached the hotel where

Ivan had taken up his abode. He remained concealed beneath the shelter

of a porch, on the opposite side of the street, into which no gleam of

light penetrated; though a lamp, burning in the doorway of the hotel,

enabled him to command a distinct view of all who might enter, or

depart. Thrusting his hand in his bosom, he thus muttered to himself:

"Ah! most trusty weapon, thou art not likely to fail me, if my arm

proves true. Far better is the silent and sharp dagger to do such a

deed, than the noisy and treacherous pistol, which has often failed a

better man than myself, on a like occasion; yet, I did well to bring my

noisy friend, in case, by any chance, the first should fail to strike

home.--Ah! some one approaches."

Groff, for it was he, drew farther back into the shade, to prevent

himself from being seen by the stranger who was about to pass. At that

moment, a person with a light and active step, completely shielded from

the weather, walked quickly by, so that Groff could catch a glance of

his features. He had not long to remain after this on his watch, when a

figure appeared at the door of the hotel, whom he guessed must be his

intended victim; for having cast a look at the dark and clouded sky, the

person issued forth in the direction Groff expected him to take. The

ruffian accordingly emerged from his hiding-place, and stealthily

followed, at a short distance, the steps of his hoped for prey.

It was impossible to distinguish the figures of anybody, on such a

night, wrapped up as all were who ventured abroad; but Groff felt that

he could not be mistaken, both from seeing his intended victim issue

from the hotel in which Ivan resided, and from the direction he was

taking.

The person walked rapidly along, threading the intricate and obscure

streets, without hesitation; every now and then, however, drawing his

cloak closer around him, and casting a hurried look behind, as if to

observe if he was followed. On these occasions, Groff contrived to

shrink under the shade of some buttress, or projecting wall. Owing to

his being perfectly well acquainted with the streets, and knowing each

turning the person would probably take, he was enabled, successfully to

dodge his footsteps, till he had arrived in the neighbourhood of the

mansion previously described, in the garden of which the meetings of the

conspirators were held. The man there stopped, and looked cautiously

around, retracing his steps for a short distance, as if to assure

himself that he had not been followed; throwing a scrutinising glance,

as he lifted his hand to shade his eyes, down two or three narrow lanes,

which there turned off from that along which he had passed. He seemed,

however, satisfied, and was about to pass on.

"Now is my time," thought Groff, who had hidden beneath a dark arch way,

"I will now rush forward, and strike him, to make sure, and save myself

a long and disagreeable watch; but he looks as if prepared for danger,

and I may find a warmer reception than I wish, or he may cry out and

give the alarm, before I have time to escape."

While Groff was thus debating with himself, the person again walked on,

unconscious of the danger he had so narrowly just escaped; and the

assassin, fearful of being discovered after his evident wariness, if he

pursued him further, concealed himself carefully under an arch, let into

a wall, which had at one time served as an entrance to the garden behind

it; but, for some reason, the inner part was now blocked up with stones,

leaving, however, a recess sufficiently deep for a person to hide within

it.

"Here I will await his return," muttered Groff; "he has never yet failed

to pass this way, and I have well marked his figure, so that I should

know him if there was but a glimpse of light. I wish I had followed him

to find out where he goes to, for there may be some secret worth knowing

in that. It is an odd place for a person to come to so constantly, and

I should make a fine thing of it, if I discovered any hidden plot, which

the Count could reveal to the Emperor; it would bring him into high

favour, and I, his follower, would benefit by it. I might easily manage

to get rid of the youth in some other place, and if I slay him now, I

lose my opportunity. But no! one scheme is but a chance, while his

death will give me a certainty of reward."

Having thus made up his mind, Groff remained in concealment for two or

three hours, till he began almost to fear that his victim had escaped,

by passing some other way. He watched with breathless expectation--

anxiously looking forth from his place of shelter. The rain still fell

in torrents, and flashes of lightning now and then darted from the

heavens. One flash, brighter than the others, almost blinded him, as he

grasped his dagger firmly in his hand; but he was no coward, though but

a common ruffian, and he did not tremble. He again drew back, and

listened attentively. Footsteps approached, he could not be mistaken;

he heard the light and quick step advancing--nearer and nearer it came--

he feared to breathe lest the sound might reach his victim's ears--he

more firmly clutched his dagger. With one foot advanced--his arm raised

ready to strike, he stood pressing his body against the wall; he could

distinguish the very breathing of him who was approaching. The figure

filled the archway--the assassin sprang from his lair, his dagger's

point towards the breast of his victim. The lightning flashed brightly

in forked streaks from the sky and played round the blue steel, but it

failed to bring heaven's vengeance, as it glanced before the eyes of the

doomed one. He started back, but, alas, too late! the sharp point

pierced his bosom. Too firmly was the assassin's arm nerved; deep--

deep, he drove his murderous weapon home; his whole force was in the

thrust. Loud rolling peals of thunder reverberated through the heavens,

as the work of blood was doing, and drowned the dying groan of the

murdered man. Heavily he fell, struck down by the force of the blow.

No sigh escaped his breast; but the foul midnight murderer was not

content; drawing the reeking steel from the wound, his teeth grinding

with fury, his eyes starting from his head, he plunged it again, and

again, to the very hilt, into the bosom of the fallen man, the warm

blood spouting from each fresh wound, and dyeing his hands. He stooped

down, tearing aside the cloak and vest, seeking with eager haste, to

feel the bosom of him whom he had slain, to find if perchance it yet

palpitated with life; but well and truly had he done his work; a deep

deadly wound had pierced that heart, which, but a few moments before,

had beat with confidence--true patriotism--high hopes and aspirations;

inflicted by his foul hand.

For a moment, a gleam of satisfaction passed through the murderer's

bosom that his work was accomplished, and his reward gained; but an

instant afterwards, and oh! for ten thousand worlds would none have

exchanged the most wretched poverty for the feelings which possessed

him. It was his first cold, deliberate, mercenary shedding of blood; he

felt himself to be an accursed wretch on the earth.

He could not fly, a fascination chained him to the spot; his fingers

were clammy with blood, thick clotted to his dagger's handle. He sought

for a pool that he had stepped in near the spot; he tried to wash away

the damning stains, but he knew that to be impossible.

In the exciting moment of the murder, he had been thoughtless of the

blood which flowed over him, but he now observed that he was covered

with it. The rain again fell in torrents, he stood exposed to its fury,

to let it wash away the stain. It revived him; his thoughts again

returned to their accustomed channel. The recollection of the money,

for which he had done the deed, recurred to him; avarice seized his

heart, and he remembered that, perchance, the murdered man might have

gold about him.

He now neither trembled nor hesitated, as he felt about the body of his

victim. With joy he clutched a purse, by the size and weight of which

he knew it must contain gold; he felt in the breast, he drew from thence

a packet of letters; a thought struck him that they might be of use to

his master; he also possessed himself of watch and jewels. He was

satisfied: no regret, no compunction for the deed oppressed him. His

callous indifference had returned; an idea then occurred to him--

horrid--diabolical. He searched around, to find some large stones, and

with all his force he dashed one on the head of the murdered man; he

seized another, and another, and hurled them with fury on the head of

his victim, till he knew that every feature must be obliterated.

Again the lightning flashed brightly, and shewed him his work. He gazed

on the ghastly spectacle; the thunder rolled terrifically, and seemed

about to cast its bolts on his head. Even the assassin, callous and

hardy as he was, now trembled, he could stand no more, and fled hastily

from his cursed work. On--on--he went, nor dared to look behind him,

for he felt himself pursued by some phantom of tremendous, of horrid

aspect. There was a weight at his breast, his brain burned; he longed

to shriek, to give vent to his feelings; but his voice seemed choked, he

could utter no sound. He felt a longing desire to rush into fierce

strife, to find more and more to slay, more to destroy. He was like the

tiger who has once tasted of blood; nothing could slake his thirst;

blood--blood he longed for, and still he fled away from that he had

first spilled; but he thought he could blot out, with fresh blood, the

remembrance of that dreadful deed.

He was flying on, a sort of brute instinct guiding his way, when he was

called to his senses, by the loud challenge of a sentry from some

government building. In a moment, he was again himself, the bold,

careless ruffian; he answered calmly to the challenge, and was allowed

to proceed onward; he drew his cloak closely around him, and walked

towards the palace of his master, with a steady step; but it still

required some exertion over his nerves, to prevent himself from rushing

onward at his former pace.

At length he reached the palace, and knocked at a side door, where

Kruntz was in waiting for him. His fellow ruffian started, as holding

up a light, he caught sight of his pale, haggard cheek, his starting

eye, and the dark red stains with which, as his cloak fell off, his

dress was besmeared.

"What work hast thou been about now, Groff?" asked the man, "thou

look'st like some wandering ghost."

"A butcher's!" answered Groff, in a thick husky voice; "but ask me no

questions. Where is our lord? I must see him directly; I have matters

of importance to communicate."

"Would'st go to him in that pretty guise, friend?" said Kruntz; "truly

it would please him much to see thee thus. Look at thyself in a glass,

man, and thou would'st not much admire thine own countenance; if thou

didst look always thus, thou would'st have but poor chance with the fair

damsels thou seekest to captivate, and even men would be apt to shun thy

company. I, for one, should not much like to be as near thee always as

I now am. Get thee in, man, and change thy draggled garments."

"Aye, I forgot me," answered Groff. "Say not a word, Kruntz, nor rouse

the other knaves. I'll go change these wet garments, and then present

me to our Lord; here, give me thy lamp."

Thus saying, Groff seized the lamp from Kruntz's hand, and turned the

light away from himself. "Go, tell the Count, that I have returned and

will give my news, when I am fit to appear before him."

While Kruntz went to report the return of Groff, the assassin hastened

to throw off his blood-stained garments, which he carefully tied up in a

bundle, and hid them away together with his dagger; then having washed

all stains from his cheeks and hands, he presented himself before the

Count Erintoff.

He entered the room abruptly. "The deed is done which you required," he

said; "to-morrow morning the whole city will ring with it, and I may

then claim my reward. I made sure work, and the youth will never more

stand in your way."

"Good," answered the Count, "you shall have your reward. Come to-morrow

to claim it."

"It is well and hardly earned, let me say; and here is something that I

found in the breast of the youth; these papers may give you some

information," said Groff.

"Let me have them," said the Count. "Is this all you found upon him,

knave, eh?"

"Nothing farther; I stayed not to search him," answered the ruffian.

"Well, well, it matters not," said the Count; "leave me, I will examine

these papers."

The murderer gladly withdrew from the presence of his instigator to

crime, to join his companion, and to drown his conscience with wine;

first examining and then carefully hiding the spoils he had taken from

his victim.

The Count, when left alone, eagerly tore open the papers he had

received, though he shuddered as on the outer packet, he caught sight of

the stains of blood; the blood of the youth he had so heartlessly, so

revengefully consigned to an early death; but all thoughts of remorse

for the deed were forgotten, as he glanced his eye over the documents.

Some were in cypher, but others he perused with the deepest interest.

As he read, he exclaimed aloud: "Ah, this is a fortunate discovery! How

many do I now hold in my power! Ah, and you too! The man I hate! I

shall be amply revenged on him! My fortune is on the ascendant! By

Heavens! this information is worth a princedom to me! Ay, and I will

gain it too! I would have sacrificed a thousand lives to have gained

it! My revenge satisfied, now for love! Ah, beautiful but haughty

girl, your lover dead, you will now become mine; you will soon willingly

come to my arms. Fortunately, that villain cannot read, nor has he even

looked at these papers; I must not let him guess at their contents, or

he may make higher demands on me. I trust he has not kept back any

other papers; but no, he has given these as my share, and has kept the

youth's gold, if he had any, to himself:--he is welcome to it. But if I

give information of this affair, may I not be suspected of the murder?

However, that matters nothing; the government will be too well pleased

to gain the information, to inquire very minutely how I came by it, or,

if they should, I may easily invent a tale to account for it. I must

see to this."

Volume 1, Chapter XII.

We must now turn our view to a chamber in the chateau of the Baron

Galetzoff. It was furnished with heavy and old fashioned hangings which

gave it a solemn and sombre air, increased by the windows being closed

to exclude the glare of day; one stream of light alone entering through

the curtains, and throwing a still darker shade into the rest of the

room. Two female attendants stood by the side of a couch, on which

reclined, now wan and emaciated, that unhappy and mysterious lady, whom

Ivan had so short a time before left in health, and all the majesty of

beauty.

Her eye fixed and regardless of all around, her thoughts seemed to be

far away, wandering perchance amid the scenes of her youth, with the

loved beings of other days, whom she had long, long ago lost, but soon

hoped again to meet in other and happier realms. As she gazed, their

airy forms flitted before her eyes, and the well remembered lineaments

became clear, and distinct, beckoning her to follow. She moved not, she

spoke not, and as the attendants looked on her, they thought her spirit

had departed.

A slow and gentle step approached: it was that of a venerable

grey-headed man in the robes of a priest, whose clear, calm eye, and

placid countenance, betokened an amiable and tender heart. He seated

himself quietly by the side of the couch, but the movement roused the

lady from her seeming trance, and she turned her eyes towards him.

"Daughter," he said, "I could not rest away from your side, and as soon

as I had performed the duties which called me hence, I returned to

afford you all the consolation of which religion has so great a store."

"Father!" she answered in a low voice, "to your instructions do I owe

the great, the inestimable benefits which I may now partake of; else had

I remained like the beast that perishes, without that faith and hope

which now sustain me."

"Daughter! those are the sentiments which should possess the bosoms of

all who are about to leave this vale of tears," continued the holy man;

"clear your thoughts of all things appertaining to this world, and fix

them on the next."

"I would do so, Father, but I cannot!" answered the lady. "I must, ere

I die, see one, the dearest to me on earth; till then I cannot tear my

thoughts from him. Has he arrived? Oh! that I could see him, ere my

spirit wings its flight from hence. Oh! let there be no delay when he

comes, for each instant I feel the throbbing of my heart grow weaker."

"There shall be no delay, my daughter! a faithful messenger has been

sent to summon him; but, when I just now entered the house, he had not

arrived," said the priest. Scarcely had he uttered the words, when the

lady exclaimed, "Ah, I now hear his horse's steps approaching; oh!

haste, Father, and bid him come hither."

"You are mistaken, daughter, I heard no sound, and he could scarcely

arrive by this hour," answered the priest.

"Ah, no! Father, I mistake not, even now I hear his footstep in the

hall. He approaches. Oh, my heart! cease not to beat, till I have seen

him once again," she exclaimed, nor had her sense of hearing deceived

her; rendered still more acute, as her other faculties were fast

failing.

In a few moments, a gentle knock was heard, and the dwarf entered. "I

know that he is come," said the lady, "oh! let me see him without delay;

and holy Father, I would be alone with him." The priest rose to obey

her wishes, and withdrew with the attendants, as Ivan entered.

As she saw him, her faded eye brightened; and she stretched out her arms

to receive him, as throwing himself on his knees by the side of the

couch, he shaded his face with his hands, and a convulsive sob escaped

his bosom.

"Do I find you thus?" he exclaimed after a moment's pause, "my friend--

my kind protectress? why was I not before apprised of your illness? why

was I not here to solace and comfort you?"

"I knew not that death was making such rapid strides towards me,"

answered the lady; "but think not that I am unhappy. Now that I have

you with me, loved one! I am content to bear my lot; but I must not

waste these precious moments, for I have much to say and my time on

earth will quickly end. Listen to me," and she spoke in that language

which she had taught Ivan in his youth, and in which they loved to

commune together.

"Can you remember the early days of your youth, and those scenes of

which I once forbade you to speak?" she said.

"Yes--yes--vividly can I now recall several to my mind," answered Ivan.

"I remember a strange land, and scenes far different to this country;

and also your kindness, your love from my earliest days."

"Think you that the affection and fond solicitude with which I tended

your youth, could ever have been felt by any but a mother! None but a

mother could feel the undying love which I bear for you. My boy! my

child! come to my arms, and let me hold thee there, before I die. You

are--you are my son, and though in life, I dared not, for your sake,

acknowledge it, I rejoice to die, that now I may declare the truth

before all the world."

"My heart always told me so," exclaimed the young man, fondly embracing

her, as she held out her arms to receive him. "O my loved mother! would

that I might thus have called you before! but say who is my father? Is

it not the Baron?"

"Thank great Heaven! no, my loved son--no! Your father was noble,

generous, and brave; methinks, I now see his noble countenance reflected

in my boy; but my strength fails me, my voice grows weak. Listen, ere

it be too late, to my story.

"It was in our own loved and beautiful land, amid the magnificent

mountains, the green and fertile glens of Circassia, that your father

was distinguished as one of the noblest and bravest chieftains. Five

thousand daring horsemen assembled at his command, ready to follow

wherever he should lead. Many of the neighbouring chiefs were subject

to him; all honoured or feared him. He kept free from the feuds which

distracted and weakened the other tribes, and all sought to be in amity

with him. He had numerous flocks and herds, which fed on the richest

pastures; he had abundance of wealth; fleet and hardy steeds; rich

armour and apparel; faithful and devoted servants.

"I was the daughter of a neighbouring prince; your noble father sought

and won me in marriage. We had two children, you my loved son, and a

fair young daughter; how my heart has bled as I have thought of that

lovely cherub, whom I have been destined to see no more, and whose fate

I tremble to think of! But our happiness, which seemed as full as

mortals could enjoy, was destined to be fleeting and transitory; we were

awoke, suddenly and without preparation, from our short-lived dream of

bliss.

"Our territories, which extended over many of the rocky and precipitous

mountains bordering on the sea, had hitherto, on account of their lofty

situation, almost inaccessible to attack, escaped the devastating visits

of the invaders of our country. Our home was near, the coast, and your

father, confiding in the security of our situation, had gone with the

greater part of his followers to repel a distant inroad of the enemy,

leaving only a few to protect our herds, when a fleet of the lofty ships

of the Russians, made a sudden descent on our coast. Their troops

landed in numbers, and stormed the passes leading to our dwellings,

destroying the fields of corn on their road, and carrying off, or

killing all the cattle they could seize; the few of our men remaining in

the neighbourhood assembled in haste, and disputed each spot of ground

practicable of defence, with all the energy and bravery of despair; even

the women seized arms and joined the men, aiding them to their utmost;

some hurling down stones on the heads of the invaders, as they defiled

through each narrow gorge. But what could a handful of men do, taken

almost by surprise, against a host of well-equipped and ferocious

enemies? Frantic with our hopeless efforts, we fought till our men were

all slain, for none would yield, while they had strength to use their

weapons.

"My heart sickens even now at the wanton and cruel butcheries which the

ruthless barbarians committed. The children were torn from their

mothers' arms and slaughtered in their sight; some few of the women

however escaped with the infants under their charge, among whom was your

young sister, and gained the mountains, beyond the reach of their

pursuers.

"A ruffian was about to destroy you, my boy, when you were rescued from

his grasp by a more humane comrade, who, as I afterwards found, was a

servant belonging to the leader of the enemy's forces. From a height

overlooking the pass, I beheld you borne away in the arms of the

soldier, and I sought to throw myself down, to tear you from the

robber's grasp, or to share your captivity. I was, however, forcibly

prevented by my attendants, who deaf to my entreaties and disobedient to

my commands, when I ordered them to release me, compelled me to remain

concealed in a cavern from the sight of our enemies. The Russians had

retired from the defiles and passes in the mountains and encamped near

the seashore, under protection of the guns of then ships; we, the

wretched and melancholy few who remained, watched from the neighbouring

heights, there passing the live-long night, for we had no homes to

return to; our once smiling dwellings were burnt to the ground, our

streams choked with the dead, and tinged with their blood, our cattle

carried off, and desolation reigned around.

"We were aroused from our lamentations over the fallen brave, by the

arrival of a band of horsemen, who had been sent back by your father;

they proposed to delay making any attack on the foe till their numbers

could be increased from the neighbouring villages; but I thought of you,

my boy--you a prisoner in the hands of our enemies, and I dreaded lest

they should set sail, and bear you far away without a hope of recovering

you. With lamentations and entreaties, with tears and commands, I urged

on our men to the attack. I shewed them the ignominy, the disgrace,

which would cover them, should they allow an enemy, who had devastated

their lands, slain their kinsmen, and carried away captive their wives

and children, to escape, without attempting to revenge their loss. I

pointed out to them that the son of their beloved chieftain was in the

power of their enemies, and that should they discover the value of their

prize, they would endeavour to bring us to terms, disgraceful and

injurious to our country, for the sake of recovering him. I excited

their valour--I fired their souls with my eloquence, wrought to the

highest pitch by a mother's anxiety--I offered to lead them, putting

myself at their head, and swore never to return unsuccessful.

"We sent out messengers in all directions around, summoning all who

could be collected to join our forces. None hesitated to obey our

summons, for the same detestation of our invaders animated the breasts

of all. Before the morning broke, we had assembled from all quarters an

irregular, but heroic band, eager to be led against the common foe.

From the thick wooded heights, which overhung the coast, we rushed down

upon the unprepared camp, like some mountain torrent, suddenly swelled

by the thunder cloud, sweeping over the plain, bearing all before it. I

felt not like a weak, timid woman, but as the enraged lioness, whose

young has been torn from her by the hands of the huntsmen. I sprung to

rescue you; by word and action, I encouraged our men to the assault, and

heeded not the overwhelming numbers opposed to us.

"The Russians roused from their sleep, ere the out-posts could give the

alarm, rushed to their arms; many, owing to the confusion and darkness,

missed their weapons. In an instant we were upon them; and as corn

before the sickle we hewed them down, none crying for mercy; they knew

they deserved it not, we shewed none. But ere our work was done, the

morning broke, and exhibited our scanty force to the enemy, who rallied

at the sight, and retreated fighting in order. But I had not recovered

my child, and it was for that object alone that I fought. Suddenly, I

caught sight of you at a distance, with other prisoners amid the ranks

of the foe. I strained every nerve to reach you--I saw not the blows

aimed at me--I encouraged my followers, and on--on, we rushed, fearless

of the danger, and ignorant of the vast power of the mighty engines of

destruction which their huge ships bore. Fighting step by step, we

repelled the Russians, till they gained the very margin of the sea, and

then, just as we thought victory secure--their ships opened upon us

suddenly the hot shower of their artillery, which no valour could

withstand; my brave companions fell fast around me while fighting, and

still hotly pursuing the foe, till death arrested their course.

"Scarcely any remained by my side, when it seemed that a sickness came

over me, and I fell to the ground, and knew not what further happened.

"When I awoke to consciousness, I found myself on board of one of the

Russian ships, borne far from my native land. I endeavoured to recall

my scattered senses: a fever raged through my brain, as I was conducted

into the presence of the chief who had led the attack on our territory--

he was the Baron Galetzoff!"

Ivan's brow grew dark, and an exclamation of anger rose to his lips; but

he restrained his passion.

"He eyed me with a glance which pierced me through my soul, as I stood

with my head bowed before him, nor could words find utterance through my

parched lips. He spoke, but I was deaf to the sound. Strange people

were around me; an uncouth language was spoken, whose meaning I could

not understand: entreaty, resistance, complaint, were alike unavailing.

I had none to appeal to from whom I could hope for assistance. I knew

myself to be utterly helpless; none around me could understand my words.

I was led back, unresistingly, to my solitary cabin. I yielded to my

fate, for all thoughts of escape were hopeless. I thought of death as a

refuge for my wretchedness; but one idea, one hope still sustained me,

and bade me cling to life. I might, should you have escaped

destruction, still have a chance, though a remote one, of meeting with

you. The very thought restored me. I determined to live to devote my

energies to find you; for I knew not of the difficulties in my way. The

ship in which I was borne captive from Circassia, reached the shores of

Russia; and I was transported to this mansion in some strange

conveyance, which I had never before seen. I was here treated with

every care and attention, having female attendants to wait on me, and to

supply all my wants. From them I learned gradually the strange language

they spoke, being inspired with the hope that it might be of service to

me in my search after you; and sustained by this deep feeling, I became

partially reconciled to my fate. I had not seen or heard of my captor

since I left the ship, except that, as far as I could understand, he was

still absent from his domain.

"My sole delight and employment was in wandering through the woods,

while thinking of you, and in forming many different projects to

discover to what part of the country you had been conveyed. On one of

these excursions I had gone further than usual from home, and had for an

instant lost sight of my attendant, when a child's cry caught my ear. I

rushed forward eagerly at the sound, for the notes vibrated through my

heart like some beloved and well-known voice. I was not to be deceived.

Oh! joy of joys! blessing unspeakable! it was you, my own loved boy--

far off, I knew you. I sprang forward--I pressed you to my bosom--I

covered you with kisses--I placed you on the ground: again and again I

snatched you in my arms. I wept--I felt mad with joy; all my sorrows,

all my miseries were, for the moment, forgotten; all the happiness I had

lost, in an instant, appeared restored tenfold. I know not if you

recognised me; but I thought you did; for you returned my embrace,

looking up smilingly in my face.

"A rough, but honest-faced looking man, broke through the woods in

search of you, and looked surprised and alarmed on finding you in my

arms. He made signs that he must take you from me; and though I sought

to prevent it, you returned willingly to him. With my spirit broken, I

could not dare to oppose him; and I guessed, too, from his manners and

countenance, that he might prove a friend. This honest serf was the

father of Karl; and from him I learned that you had been carried off by

his brother, who had saved your life from the hands of some of his

comrades; that the Baron had seen you, and for some unknown reason, had

taken a fancy to you, and ordered you to be committed to his charge; and

also, that you had been conveyed to the estate at the very time that I

was, while I had been pining in despair for your loss. Every day I

frequented the same spot, which was near the serf's hut, in hopes of

seeing you and clasping you to my bosom; when the honest fellow at

length, taking compassion on me, used to bring you forth to meet me.

Oh! the happiness, the bliss of those moments, almost repaid me the

misery I had suffered. I was not acquainted with the Baron's

disposition; but an idea occurred to me, though I scarcely know how it

originated, that, should he discover you to be my son, he might, by

threatening to tear you from my sight, endeavour to gain more control

over me. Every time that this thought recurred to me, it gave fresh

strength to my opinion, and I resolved, at all hazard, to profess utter

carelessness on your account; and thankful I have ever since been, that

I adopted that course; for no sooner did the Baron arrive, than my

trials commenced. I, at first, with the most abject entreaties, prayed

to be restored to my own country, hoping to take you with me; but he

laughed at my petition; and when I pressed my demand, with some

haughtiness of manner, he sternly refused.

"All hopes of escape were as vain as the prayers addressed to my captor

had been unsuccessful, for I knew not even to what part of the country I

had been conveyed. I thought of the beloved husband to whom I was

lost--of my sweet daughter--of friends and home; and I felt that I could

not survive their loss: but your voice, though at a distance, struck on

my ear, and for your sake I resolved to live on.

"When you were brought to the chateau, your playful manners, and light

prattle, seemed to win on the affections of the Baron, as much as his

rough and savage nature would permit; but I kept to my prudent

resolution, and pretended not to recognise you. At first you would

oftentimes throw your arms round my neck, and call me by the endearing

name of mother, in your native tongue; but I taught you not to utter

that name, though it almost broke my heart to do so; and my artifice

succeeded; for you were constantly allowed to be with me, and the Baron

seemed to have no idea of our relationship.

"The Baron's conduct towards you was always inexplicable, for it

appeared entirely contrary to his fierce and cruel disposition, to treat

you as he has done. I have lately suspected that he has some secret

motive for thus acting, for to me he has always been harsh and

tyrannical.

"There was one person in the Baron's establishment who soon became

entirely devoted to me--it was the dwarf Ladislau. I pitied his

weakness and helplessness, treating him always with kindness, for which

he has shewn his gratitude by every means in his power. From him I

learned that the Baron had, some time before, married a lady of great

beauty, who, his servants and dependants fancied, was a native of some

foreign country, though they knew not from what part of the world she

came. Ladislau added that he himself perfectly knew, and that she was

of the Zingani race, and had been induced to marry the Baron, more for

his rank and wealth, than for any great love she bore him. This he soon

discovered, and in revenge treated her so barbarously, that she was

preparing to fly from his mansion, but was prevented. Soon after the

unfortunate lady died, after giving birth to a child; but, previously to

that event, she had called the dwarf to her, and given some injunctions,

which he had sworn most solemnly to fulfil, and even to keep secret

within his own bosom.

"The Baron at first seemed repentant of his jealousy and tyranny, and

grieved for his loss, seeking to make amends by his kindness to the

child, for his cruelty to the mother; but, during his absence from home

for a time, the child had mysteriously disappeared, and all his attempts

at discovering it, had proved fruitless. Methought the dwarf gave a

sinister look, as he told me the tale. He said that the Baron had raged

and stormed at the loss of his child, but had at length given up all

hopes of ever discovering the perpetrators of the deed; rather believing

that it had come to some violent end, and perhaps, when he first saw

you, the smiling cherub that you then were, he thought of supplying the

place of his own lost one.

"From the dwarf I learned, that the Baron bore a deadly hatred to my

country, for the reverses he had so constantly met with there; and he

had sworn utterly to subdue, and reduce its inhabitants to the most

abject slavery. He knew little of the noble spirit which animated their

bosoms, while indulging in hopes of success against them. Ladislau

added, when the Baron found that you, a Circassian child, had been saved

by one of his soldiers, he, with a refinement of cruelty, had determined

to bring you up, and teach you to feel the most deadly hatred against

your own countrymen, if by chance they were not subdued before that

time. I thanked heaven that I was at hand to counteract his evil

intentions, and the aim of my life has been, to inspire you with a love

of freedom, and a hatred of all tyranny and injustice. The Baron would

be less than human had he not one redeeming quality; having been a

father himself, he seemed, when you were a child, to have some sparks of

affection for you, beyond the object for which he has educated you. He

has even now adopted you, and would leave you all his wealth, would you

comply with his requests. But oh! my loved son, be not seduced by the

glittering baits he will offer--to turn traitor to your native land!

Else shall my life, and all my sufferings have been in vain. Oh no!

even I, to whom you are dearer than all else, counsel you to hazard

death or captivity, rather than shed the blood of your countrymen, by

the side of their foes. Let me beseech you to fulfil the lofty purpose

for which I consented to live in this hated place; and when I am no

more, as I soon shall be, then fly from hence, and endeavour to reach

your native land. That amulet, which you carry round your neck, has

always been worn by the eldest son of the chieftain of your tribe. No

sooner shall your father's followers see it, than they will acknowledge

you, if unhappily your noble father no longer lives. Seek the spot

which was once your home, then proclaim yourself, and relate my unhappy

story, when all with joy will own you; and should my loved husband still

exist, give him my parting sighs."

Her voice, during this recital, frequently faltered through weakness;

and as she fell back exhausted at its close, a thrill of horror shot

through her son's frame, as for an instant he thought that, in truth,

her spirit had fled to the realms of bliss; but to his great joy, she

again opened her eyes, to gaze on him she loved so deeply, as he held

her sinking form in his arms. He was overwhelmed with the interest of

the story he had heard; and though he had loved her before he knew she

was his mother, how deep and earnest was his gratitude now for her

devoted, her heroic affection for him?

"Mother!" he cried, "I swear to obey your commands. Already have I

engaged in the accomplishment of a great work, after the issue of which

I will haste to that land, which oft have I visited in my dreams."

"Enough, my son, sure I am that heaven will protect you on your way; but

I have yet more to add. When you reach your native land, oh! endeavour

to instil into your countrymen that mild and pure religion, which the

good priest, who educated you, first taught me to know. It was once the

religion of our forefathers, and the cross--the emblem of that faith--is

still to be seen in the land. Oh! reclaim them to the true and ancient

worship of their country. My loved son! let me gaze on thee once more,

ere my sight fail me. May heaven guard thy life, and make thee the

deliverer of thy country! Then shalt thou be known by thy true name,

and well wilt thou prove worthy of thy gallant father. I cannot longer

see thee, my son; but kiss me once more, and receive my last sigh:--when

thou bearest it to thy father, say that I loved him to the last."

She ceased to speak, Ivan felt her form recline more heavily in his

arms; no pulse answered to his touch. She looked lovely still, but her

eye had lost that mysterious expression of the mind, when the living

soul yet animates the frame. Her spirit had fled!

In that bleak land died the lovely exile, far distant from her own sunny

clime: but she was happy at the last, when folded in the arms of that

son for whose sake she had so nobly endured long and weary captivity.

The young man uttered no loud complaint; but laid her form calmly on the

couch, and with reverent awe closed her eyes; then gazing earnestly on

her features, he threw himself on his knees by her side. The attendants

entered, and found him in this posture when he was aroused by the

entreaties of his faithful friend Ladislau, who led him unresistingly to

his chamber; and the kind-hearted dwarf then lavished his attentions

upon the bereaved Ivan.

The stern Lord of the mansion had been for some days absent, unaware of

his captive's approaching liberation from her misery and thraldom; Ivan

was thereby enabled to indulge his grief without interruption.

Volume 1, Chapter XIII.

The female attendants and wives of the nearest serfs assembled to utter

their lamentations over the body of the deceased, which was laid out on

a couch, with the hands crossed on the breast, dressed in a crimson

robe, and a rich coif placed on the head. The venerable priest who had

attended her when living, came to sprinkle incense over her body; and

while thus engaged, he chaunted psalms in a low and solemn voice.

On the third day from her death, the remains of the lady were placed in

a coffin covered with crimson cloth, and surrounded with torches; from

thence it was conveyed to the neighbouring church. At a distance,

followed Ivan unknown and unnoticed, enveloped in his cloak; and as the

priest concluded the short funeral service, he drew near, and kneeling

by the coffin, kissed that cold and inanimate hand: on that spot he

again swore to fulfil her commands, and to devote himself to the cause

of his native country. With a tearless eye, but bursting heart; he saw

all that he loved committed to the earth, and lingered long near the

spot, until he was urged to depart by Ladislau.

The day after the sad ceremony had been performed, the Baron returned to

the chateau, but made no allusion to the melancholy event, nor did it

appear to affect him in any way. Summoning Ivan to his presence soon

after his arrival:

"My plans are arranged," said he; "our gracious Emperor has appointed me

to the command of a strong force, to quell the rebellious Circassians;

and, in a short time, I hope to bring them under lawful subjection.

This has ever been the height of my ambition. I own that the

difficulties are great; but if I fall, in you, Ivan, I hope to leave a

worthy successor. In this parchment, you are made heir to all my

possessions; and our noble Czar, in consideration of my services, and as

the only favour that I have asked, will permit you to assume the same

rank I bear."

Ivan, for a time, remained silent after this announcement. A momentous

period to him had arrived, and he almost dreaded the effects of what he

was resolved to say, in reply.

"What, young man!" exclaimed the Baron, impatiently, "are you not

overpowered with gratitude? What mean you by this silence--that fixed

gaze--those clenched hands? Do you hesitate to accept my offer? Speak,

boy! thwart not my will, or you will deeply repent your folly!"

While the fierce old Baron raved like a wounded lion, lashing himself

into fury, before him stood the young Circassian, calm, but determined,

like some courageous hunter, who has been unexpectedly allured into the

lair of the beast. After a still further protracted silence, he at

length addressed the Baron:

"I might once have accepted the noble offer you make me, Sir; but that

time is passed. I now know who I am: and rather would I toil as the

meanest serf on your domain, than bear arms against that country--my

own, my native land. Yes, Sir, I am a Circassian; and prouder am I to

belong to that heroic race, than to the highest rank the autocrat of all

the Russias can confer."

"What words are these I hear?" cried the Baron, furiously.

"Disobedience to my orders: rebellion against the Emperor! Is it for

this I have brought you up--have educated you; and would have made you

wealthy and noble? I have treated you as my own son, and never wished

you to know that I was not your father. Who has dared to fill your mind

with such dreams? They shall richly repent their interference and

folly."

"She, who has escaped from the reach of your power," answered Ivan:

"she, Sir, who devoted her life to me, who was my only friend--my

mother!"

"What! have I been deceived, then, by the wit of a frail woman; and have

I been nourishing a young viper, for years past, within my bosom, that

now rises to sting me. I recall the offer I made to you. Begone, leave

my presence! and henceforth, let me see your face no more. From this

moment I discard you--I throw you off for ever; and beware, lest you

suffer as a traitor and rebel to the Emperor. Even now you should be

seized: you have uttered treason and sedition, which merit full

punishment. Before long, Siberia shall be your destination, where you

may proclaim such fantastic nonsense without fear of injuring any. But

with such pestiferous notions you shall no longer abide under my roof.

Begone, quit my presence, or I will send my slaves to drive you hence.

Am I to be thus bearded by a boy?--my offers despised?--no gratitude

shown for my paternal care and liberality! Begone! Again I say, I will

hear no reply."

Overwhelmed by so many various and contending emotions, Ivan could with

difficulty collect his thoughts, sufficiently, to determine how to act.

He felt that the Baron had, indeed, afforded him many advantages, and

had but just now made him what, at all events, appeared to be a generous

offer; although he had, at the same time, treated his mother with

cruelty and injustice, which might counterbalance all kindness shewn to

himself. His better feelings, however, conquered; and as he slowly

quitted the apartment, he turned, and was about to express them, when he

encountered the fierce look of the Baron, and saw that further discourse

would but increase his anger.

When left alone, the Baron, with furious gestures, paced the apartment.

"I would yet tame," he muttered to himself, "that proud and haughty

spirit, which, otherwise directed, might have fully answered to my

wishes. No, no, I will let him range at large; his means will soon be

exhausted, and I shall then find him returning to crouch at my feet.

Ah! that will satisfy my vengeance; and I may then do with him as I

list. He shall no longer remain here, nor return, until he comes a

suppliant before me."

Summoning his attendants, he exclaimed, "Let a horse be given to the

rebellious youth who has just left me, and you, Karl! take whatever

belongs to him from hence, and bear it wherever he lists. Henceforth he

returns here no more. Do you hear me, slaves? Depart, and obey my

orders!"

The frightened servants hurried out to obey their fierce Lord's

commands, and the dwarf Ladislau, who had stolen in unperceived among

them, no sooner heard the order given, than he hastened to report it to

Ivan.

"My best--my only true friend!" said Ladislau, in tears, "alas! you are

banished for ever from hence, for I know that the Baron will not relent!

nor shall I be allowed to see you again. I know not what course you

mean to pursue; but this I know, my dear Ivan, that wherever you go, you

will require money. Now I have no need of any myself, and therefore, if

you have any regard for me, if you would not break my heart before its

time, accept this purse. You will find in it enough to supply your

wants for some time to come, and I shall never feel the loss of it."

Ivan was affected to tears by this mark of affection from his diminutive

friend, but at the same time he hesitated in depriving him of his means

of existence, should he, like himself, be turned out into the world; but

the excitable Ladislau broke out into a violent flood of tears, as he at

first refused the gift, and swore that he himself would never touch it,

if Ivan did not make use of it. So that at last, much against his

inclination, he was obliged to accept a small portion, sufficient he

trusted to carry him to the shores of Circassia.

After waiting some time, in the hope that the Baron's anger would cool,

he sent a message requesting permission to see him again before his

departure; but a stern refusal was the answer, and an order that he

should quit the house without further delay. His proud spirit thus

irritated, he no longer hesitated to obey the stern command, after

taking an affectionate leave of Ladislau, who refused to be comforted.

With heavy heart, and agitated feelings, he sallied forth for the last

time from the gates of the chateau, amid looks of sadness and regret

depicted on the faces of the servants, who dared in no other way to

express their sentiments; and as he passed through the domain, many an

affectionate regard was uttered by the serfs whom he met, grateful for

his many acts of kindness to them; he then pursued his journey towards

Moscow. On his arrival he repaired to the same hotel where he had

before resided; he now had to undergo the pain of parting from the

honest serf Karl, when he felt how few there were who cared for him; and

this man having been his particular attendant from his childhood, he

could not but feel grieved at the separation. The poor fellow, who

would willingly and gladly have followed his fortunes, shed many tears

as he embraced his master's knees; but it was useless for him to repine,

the stern law of the land forbade him. He was a slave chained to the

soil, and obliged to obey the owner whoever he might be; and the Baron

had ordered him to return to the chateau without delay.

It was long before he could tear himself away from the youth, whom he

had attended from his boyhood, and for whom he felt a faithful

attachment; but at length, bathed in tears, he rushed from him, mounted

his horse and returned to his place of bondage, mourning over his own

abject state, which should thus prevent him from following where his

inclinations led. He had never before thought or dreamed of quitting

the domain where he was born and bred; but now the wish to be free

seized him, to throw off the yoke which could thus enchain his

movements. He returned discontented and unhappy to his father's hut,

determining to seize the first opportunity to emancipate himself from

bondage.

Ivan immediately despatched a messenger to acquaint his friend Thaddeus

with the circumstances which had occurred; summoning him to his aid and

counsel. He had now entered a new era in his existence; henceforth he

felt that he must entirely depend on his own judgment and courage, to

conduct him through the difficult and perilous way of life he had

chosen, in preference to the one the Baron had offered.

His thoughts reverted to the days of his light-hearted boyhood, and he

felt himself to be a man, indeed, with all the cares and anxieties

almost inseparable from that stage of life; but he also felt that it was

not a time for needless meditation--action, decided and instant action,

was now become necessary.

He had devoted himself to assist in forwarding a great cause, the

freedom of Russia; but then again, he felt that his own country had a

prior claim to his services. He hesitated in deciding which plan it was

most incumbent on him to pursue. Whether, at once to carry his sword to

the aid of Circassia, or to fulfil the first engagements he had entered

into, when he thought himself a Russian, and to assist in the liberation

of Russia from despotism.

It occurred to him, at the same time, that by following the latter plan,

he might be more effectually aiding his own country, for should freedom

once be established among the Russians, he supposed it but natural that

that people would desist from their unjust endeavours to deprive

Circassia of her liberty.

Ivan determined, therefore, to wait a short time, at least, the course

of events before he set off on his expedition in search of all which

could now be dear to him. Country--home--father--and relations. He had

to begin a new life: to throw off many of his old habits; to make new

friends; and to consider those as enemies whom he had hitherto looked

upon as countrymen. While these ideas were rapidly passing through his

mind, he recollected that that evening had been fixed upon for a general

meeting of the conspirators; and as soon as night arrived, he sallied

forth amid the bustling crowds who hurried by, heedless of him and his

intentions.

But there was one who anxiously had been waiting to observe his

movements. As he left the house, that person, who was no other than his

intended murderer, Groff, followed his steps, cautiously threading his

way among the crowd, or retiring, when requisite, from observation to

recommence his trail.

As Ivan walked quickly onwards, it struck him that he was followed, as

he had been on a former occasion, and he prepared himself for any sudden

encounter. Without any impediment, however, he reached the place of

meeting, where he found the greater number of the chief conspirators

assembled, and several new recruits among them.

On his entrance, all turned their faces towards him, and started from

their seats.

"What! is it Ivan Galetzoff we see before us?" exclaimed one, advancing

towards him with surprise on his countenance. "Is it possible that you

stand before us alive and well?"

"Indeed," answered Ivan, "I know it to be perfectly possible, although I

do not understand the drift of your observations. Are you inclined to

be merry? Yet I should suppose our affairs were too important to

furnish matter for jesting!"

"Here's some extraordinary mistake," said the conspirator, "and glad are

we to find you alive, when we thought you had been foully murdered."

"Murdered!" exclaimed Ivan, "what gave rise to such an idea?"

"On the morning succeeding the last night you were here, a person was

found, not far from this spot, murdered, with several wounds in his

breast, and his features so disfigured that it was impossible to

recognise him; it was also said that there was nothing found about his

person, by which he could be known. Rumour proclaimed you to be the

unfortunate individual, and from your not again appearing among us, we

concluded that you had indeed been the victim."

"It is clear that we have been mistaken," said another conspirator,

adding as he turned to Ivan, "Know you not that you have broken through

the laws of our society, by absenting yourself without giving reason for

so doing; it is for the safety of all, that the movements of every

member of our association should be known to the committee of direction.

Remember, that the sword of vengeance hangs over the head of him who

shall turn traitor to our cause: secret, and sure will be the

punishment, from which the guilty cannot escape, sheltered even in the

palace of the autocrat."

"Gentlemen!" said Ivan, rising, "ready should I be to suffer a traitor's

death, were I so base as to betray the sacred--the noble cause in which

I am engaged. No time was allowed me to apprise you of my departure,

when I was called away to attend a parent's death-bed. If such be

considered a crime, I am ready to suffer; but rather let my actions

convince you how true and earnest I am in the cause of liberty. You see

one before you now, ruined to all worldly prospects, and eager to assist

in the work we have proposed. Let there be no further delay; we are

already strong in the numbers and resources of our friends. Let us at

once raise the standard of revolt against tyranny, and proclaim liberty

to Russia, for sure I am that at the signal of deliverance, thousands

will hasten joyfully to join our ranks, and that ere long the Russians,

having thrown off the yoke of slavery, may lift up their heads among the

free people of the earth." These sentiments were received with loud

acclamations by the majority of his hearers.

"The youth speaks well," said one of the conspirators, rising; a violent

and turbulent character, and a strong advocate for extreme measures;

"but before we take the field openly, one great object must be

accomplished, without which all our future efforts will be vain. Will

you, who have so bravely spoken, undertake to perform that great, that

sacred work? It is no slight deed--it is full of peril; but if success

attends your aim, it will cover your name for ever with a wreath of

glory. It is this: let me not hesitate to declare it; and let yours be

the high honour of ridding the country of its greatest oppressor; let

yours be the daring hand to stab the unsuspecting tyrant to the heart

while revelling in the fancied security of his power; for until that

first step be taken, naught else we can do will avail us!"

Ivan rose astounded, and indignant at the vile proposition; his feelings

were responded to by the greater number of the most influential

conspirators, at the same time that they were unwilling to damp the mad

enthusiasm of others, who hesitated not in proposing violent measures;

such men being but necessary tools to work out their own more moderate

views.

"I came here," he said, with deep emotion, "to offer my sword to the

sacred cause of liberty, and not to act the abhorred part of a midnight

assassin; and cursed will be the cause which requires such means to

ensure its success. If such be the only resources by which liberty can

be gained for Russia, I here demand back my pledge; my oath forbids me

to denounce any to the Emperor; but I will never associate with men, who

can even allow such a proposition to be made among them."

He spoke proudly and dauntlessly, and, having uttered these sentiments,

was about to quit the assembly, when several of the conspirators

gathered round him, endeavouring to calm his agitation and anger; while

others regarded him with stern and lowering glances, ready to sacrifice

him to their vengeance, should he shew the least sign of betraying them.

Though some manifested a slight opposition to his leaving the meeting,

he was nevertheless allowed to depart, by his more intimate acquaintance

undertaking to answer for his fidelity.

Hot and eager discussions then arose, and many loudly stigmatised the

vile proposition which had been made; though some still adhered to their

opinion, that they were justified in any deed that would forward the

great end. The debate had increased in warmth, until the conspirators

formed themselves into distinct parties, when a person rushed into the

assembly, consternation and dismay marked on his countenance.

"My friends," he cried, "I have just made a discovery which places us

all in imminent danger; for instead of Ivan Galetzoff, who was supposed

to have been murdered, I find that it was the young Count Flatoff, who

fell a victim to the dagger of an assassin, having in his possession the

important dispatches for St. Petersburg, which he had undertaken to

convey thither. Nothing was found about his person, when his corpse was

discovered, so that there is every probability that the murderer has

possessed himself of the documents. Some of the Count's friends here

have been making inquiries for him, on finding that he had not set off,

and it was thus I first suspected that he was the person found murdered.

We are, therefore, completely in the power of whoever possesses those

papers, for even the assassin himself would obtain pardon for the deed

from the government, in return for the valuable information he can

give."

This announcement caused deep alarm among the conspirators, who

immediately broke off their debate, to prepare for departure and

separation. But what was their dismay, when on emerging from the

garden, they found every avenue occupied by officers of police, and one

by one as the foremost appeared, were made prisoners. The rest, seeing

the fate of their friends, formed into a body, and made a desperate

effort to cut their way through the guards; some succeeding; but by far

the greater number fell into the hands of their enemies. Those who got

off fled in all directions, pursued by the police, but very few escaped.

Volume 1, Chapter XIV.

The young Pole, Thaddeus Stanisloff, had been appointed to a regiment,

destined to proceed with many others to join the army in the Caucasus,

now quartered in Moscow on its way to the south. On the same day, that

Ivan had been driven from the chateau of the Baron Galetzoff, he left

his home to join his regiment; taking a farewell, which he felt might

too probably be the last, of his broken-hearted father, now rapidly

drawing towards his end, worn out by grief and sickness. He received

also the warm and cordial adieus of his generous and high-minded host.

Thaddeus, naturally light-hearted and gay, by the time he reached

Moscow, had forgotten the sorrow of parting, and was looking forward to

the pleasure of again meeting his friend Ivan, as, soon after dusk, he

rode through the streets towards the hotel where he expected to find

him; but was disappointed on hearing that he had already gone out. He

immediately set forth on foot by himself, in hopes of finding him at

some of their usual places of resort, when, soon after leaving the

hotel, the light of a torch falling strongly on his features, a small

and feminine figure, who was about to pass on, stopped to look

attentively at his face, and then addressed him in a timid and agitated

manner. As she looked up to speak, the veil which had before concealed

her face dropt on one side, and discovered the features of the Gipsy

girl Azila.

"I meet you most fortunately," she said, "for you may be able to give

assistance, where it will be much required. Are you ready to meet a

great danger to assist a friend?"

"I should be unworthy to be called a friend, by any whom I should

hesitate to aid, whatever the risk to myself," answered Thaddeus. "But

of whom do you speak?"

"Of your friend, Ivan Galetzoff! I have this moment been to his hotel,

in the hope of warning him of an impending danger, with which I have but

just become acquainted. I could not trust any other with such a

communication to him; he has already gone out, and although I am too

late to prevent him from encountering danger, I may yet be able to

rescue him with your assistance."

"That, I will gladly give at every risk," answered Thaddeus. "But how

am I to find him? Where is he, that I may hasten to his aid?"

"That, I may not tell you," answered Azila; "but trust wholly in me, and

I will place you where you may be ready to lend your assistance, if

required."

"I will trust entirely to your guidance," said Thaddeus.

"I knew that you were too noble to hesitate," rejoined Azila, in a deep

tone of gratitude. "Let us then waste no more time here."

"Lead the way, fair lady, and I will follow," said Thaddeus.

"Have you your weapons?" she asked, "for they may be needed."

"Yes, I carry my sword under my cloak."

"That is well," said Azila; "and now, Sir, follow me closely, and

promptly, or we may be too late."

Azila, looking back for an instant, to see that Thaddeus followed, then

advanced at so rapid a pace, threading her way through the intricate

streets, that he could scarcely keep up without running. She crossed

the river by one of the bridges, and passed through several desolate

streets, where many of the houses had not yet been raised from their

ashes, hurrying on, till she arrived beneath the dark shadow of a broad

archway, and then paused.

Here she spoke to her companion, in a low earnest whisper: "I cannot

lead you further, but you must consent to remain here patiently, till

your assistance be called for, or until I return; as I now must hasten

to summon one of my tribe, who are in the neighbourhood, to aid in your

friend's escape. Wrap yourself closely in your cloak, and remain

concealed within this arch; keep your sword drawn for a sudden rescue,

for I have reason to suppose that your friend will be set upon by

assassins, as he passes near this spot. At all events, be cautious and

on the alert."

Gliding away noiselessly from the spot, she then left Thaddeus, who

forthwith retired into the darkest corner, effectually concealed from

any passer by, beneath the buttresses of the arch. He did not exactly

comprehend by what means his friend had exposed himself to the danger,

but it was sufficient for him to know that his aid was required, no

matter at what risk to himself; and he determined to abide the result,

whatever it might be.

He was doomed to keep a long watch; straining his eyes in endeavouring

to pierce through the gloom, and intently listening, to catch the sound

of any approaching footstep; when suddenly he heard the sound of voices

in muttered conference, apparently approaching the spot where he stood

concealed.

The arch, in which Azila had placed Thaddeus, was not the same in which

Groff had concealed himself, ere he perpetrated the murder of the young

Count Flatoff, but at a short distance from it. The former would not

have answered the assassin's purpose, being too far removed from the

lane Ivan usually passed by. This will account for Thaddeus now

remaining undisturbed in his concealment.

"Halt here, Kruntz," said one voice; "this is the spot, I know it well,

where I have seen this cursed youth pass so often, and I recommended our

noble master to wait here for him. Something has enraged the Count more

than ever against him, and he vows that he will not be content, until he

has passed his own sword through him. He'll make sure of him, I

warrant."

"More sure work than you did the other night, Groff," said Kruntz.

"What mean you?" replied Groff; "what work do you speak of?"

"What mean I! why the murder of Count Flatoff! Tush, tush! comrade,

think not to hide that from me, or fear that I would betray you. I

suspected that you had been about some dirty work, when you came in, and

I was not long in discovering the truth."

"If you know it, what's the use of speaking about it," hoarsely muttered

Groff. "I'll not make a mistake again, trust me. We will have our

revenge this time, and gain a reward. A pretty work the youth has given

us, what with watching and hunting him about so long."

"We ought to know each other by this time, Groff, and need keep no

little secrets of this sort from one another: so, no fear of my

betraying you. But say, how did you manage to find out that young

Galetzoff is likely to pass this way?"

"Why, the Count set me to watch all his haunts; and several times I

followed him in this direction, when I suddenly lost sight of him among

the garden walls; but after waiting here, I found that he again passed

by, and each night he has done the same. I felt certain that it was he,

when I made the mistake the other night; but I will not fail a second

time, trust me; and I know that he will come, for I am sure it was he,

we saw pass at dusk. Ah! what is that object on the ground, Kruntz?

see, it moves! It is too horrid to look at!" cried Groff, in a hollow,

husky voice. "I see its mangled features. Do you believe in ghosts,

Kruntz?"

"Ghosts--no!" answered Kruntz, jeeringly; "I never saw one yet. Why,

what's the matter, man? you are not wont to tremble. Rouse yourself,

Groff: be a man. Why, what is there to care for, if you did put a wrong

man out of the way; you are not the first who has done so."

"It is well for you to laugh, Kruntz, who have no feelings; but if you

had seen the horrible sight that appeared to me just now, you would have

trembled."

"Nonsense, man," said his companion, "it was all your fancy; and now get

rid of such ideas, for here comes some one. Be prepared!"

Thaddeus heard nearly every word of this conversation; and becoming much

alarmed for the safety of his friend, stood ready to rush out to his

assistance, for he fancied that through the gloom he saw him

approaching.

As the footsteps drew near, the voice of the Count Erintoff was heard:

"Hist, hist! what, knaves, are you there? Kruntz, Groff, answer!"

The men who had been concealed by the arch, stepped forward as they

heard their master's voice.

"Has the person I told you to watch for appeared, or have you again let

him escape you, villains?"

"No, Count," answered Kruntz: "no fear of that. I owe him a broken

head, and I don't forget my debts. I should like to catch his friend,

the other young fellow; I would pay him off all old scores."

"Hush, knaves!" said the Count. "Listen, some one approaches: be

prepared to rush out. It is he!"

A footstep was heard. Thaddeus grasped his sword more firmly--his heart

beat high, as he stood ready to spring from his hiding-place. The

person had reached the spot. It was Ivan; for the Count and his

servants sprung out upon him, and attacked him furiously.

"Yield; you are my prisoner!" exclaimed the Count, making a pass with

his sword at Ivan's breast, though, fortunately, not so rapidly but that

he had time to spring aside, and draw his own weapon, with which he had

provided himself since Azila's warning; this enabled him to parry a

second thrust made at him.

"Rescue! Ivan! here's rescue, my friend!" cried Thaddeus, darting

forward, most unexpectedly, and beating down the swords of the two

servants, who attempted to oppose him. "What means this assassin-like

attack?"

He was met by Groff and Kruntz, who had recovered from their surprise in

a moment, and now turned upon him with their whole united strength,

while their master pressed Ivan hard.

"Yield!" again exclaimed the Count, "you are a traitor to Russia, and

have joined in a dark conspiracy against her laws."

These words urged Ivan to defend himself with greater determination; and

returning the Count's attack with the utmost vigour, the latter would

have fallen a victim to his own nefarious plot, had he not called Kruntz

to his aid.

Left to engage Thaddeus single-handed, Groff now attacked him with such

blind fury, that he left his own person exposed; while his opponent,

anxious to lend his aid to Ivan, who was now so unequally beset, did his

utmost to disarm him. Failing in this attempt, he made a lunge to

terminate the contest, and his sword passed through the body of his

adversary, who fell, with scarcely a groan, to the earth. In the

meantime, Ivan had defended himself successfully from his determined

assailants; but just as his friend turned to his aid, his foot slipped,

and the Count observing the movement, passed his sword through his side.

Thaddeus soon succeeded in disarming Kruntz, whirling his sword, by

superior fence, out of his hand, and over the adjoining wall, when the

ruffian, instead of assisting his master, turned and fled. Before the

latter had time to follow up his advantage, by a second and more

effectual wound on Ivan, he was vigorously assailed by Thaddeus, who,

pressing him back to relieve his friend, disarmed him likewise; but,

retreating behind a projecting buttress, the Count baffled his pursuing

adversary, and being well acquainted with the different intricate

windings, he succeeded in effecting his escape.

Retracing his steps, Thaddeus rejoined his friend, at the moment when

the latter, returning to consciousness from the effects of his hurt,

attempted to raise himself from the earth. Bending down by his side, he

proceeded to bind up his wound, and as Ivan recognised him, he

exclaimed:

"Fly, Thaddeus, fly! for treachery and danger surround us: there is not

a moment for explanations; but I beseech you to fly instantly, or you

will be involved in my ruin."

"Never could I leave you thus," replied Thaddeus. "Lean on me for

support, and perhaps we may yet have time to escape."

"Thanks for your generous aid," said Ivan; "but I fear escape is

impossible; I feel too much hurt to walk, and you would inevitably be

overtaken: for be assured, that the Count has but retreated to call the

police, without whose aid he first trusted to satiate his revenge. I

know too well, by the words he uttered, that I am completely in his

power, through secret information he has gained."

At that moment, a light footstep was heard approaching, and a female

form appeared, whom Thaddeus recognised as Azila.

A cry escaped her as she beheld Ivan hurt and on the ground; when,

throwing herself beside him, she assisted Thaddeus in supporting his

wounded friend.

"Alas!" she cried, "unhappy I am that I should have arrived too late to

prevent this calamity; but I have friends on their way who may still be

of service."

"Thanks, fair girl," said Ivan, raising himself with their assistance,

"I will exert myself; but first, persuade my friend to save himself by

flight, for his stay here can but subject him to great peril, without

affording me further aid."

"He speaks but too truly," said Azila, turning to Thaddeus. "It were,

indeed, madness to remain, and so offer another sacrifice to the Count's

revenge; for believe me, your friend has been betrayed by that dastard,

Count Erintoff, and has incurred the rigour of the most tyrannical laws.

Fly, therefore, while you have time, before the police are upon us,

when your uniform alone would betray you; fear not for your friend, his

safety will be cared for."

Thaddeus still refused to desert his friend, in spite of the latter's

persuasions; when, as she spoke, lights were seen to glimmer in the

distance.

"Fly, fly, Thaddeus! my dear friend!" cried Ivan: "see, the police are

approaching, and you will but involve yourself in my misfortunes. And

you, lady, leave me to my fate; your safety is also perilled if you are

discovered."

"I will not quit you, Sir; I have nothing to fear," answered Azila.

"Ah!" she exclaimed, "the Great Spirit is merciful!" as, at that moment,

two dark forms emerged from the opposite direction to that in which the

lights had appeared, and towards which she had constantly been directing

an inquiring glance. "These are my friends, and may yet be in time to

save you."

Two men then approached, to whom she spoke in her own language, and

instantly they raised Ivan gently from the ground, and bore him rapidly

in the direction whence they had come.

Azila led the way in silence. Thaddeus followed, and he was happy to

find that their distance, from the lights carried by the police,

evidently increased.

The fugitives continued their way for some time, along the dark and

narrow lanes, amid the ruined buildings we have already described, and

with which Azila seemed perfectly acquainted; never for a moment

hesitating which path to take, among the numerous turnings. They at

length paused in front of a huge pile of buildings equally dilapidated,

looming still larger and darker in the gloom through which they were

seen. Their guide passing beneath a low covered way, followed by the

rest of the party, struck a sharp blow on a small door, scarcely

distinguishable from the masonry which surrounded it. It was opened

without a moment's delay; the party entered, and after descending a few

steps, Thaddeus found himself in a small vaulted chamber.

The door was carefully closed behind them, and a decrepit old man made

his appearance, bearing a lamp in his hand, with which he scrutinised

each individual on entering. The two athletic gipsies now placed their

wounded burthen on a low pallet which stood at one end of the vault,

when Azila thus addressed the old man:

"Father! I am come to entreat your succour for one in distress, who has

escaped from the police now in full search of him. While here, he

would, you know, be in safety."

"Daughter," answered the old man, "I would refuse you nothing. I will

do my utmost for the youth's safety; but who is this other? An officer

too! what does he here?"

"He is a friend of the Wounded man, and would not quit him, though at

great danger to himself," answered Azila. "Ere the morn dawns, he must

be from hence. But now that you have granted us your hospitality,

father, we must attend to your wounded guest."

It was indeed time, as from the exertion Ivan had undergone, his wound

bled afresh; the old man, however, produced salves and linen to apply to

it; but his hands trembled with the feebleness of age as he performed

the operation, assisted by Thaddeus.

"Ay, ay, I have bound up many wounds in my day, and thought to have long

ago departed for that place where there will be none to cure. God's

will be done!"