With Carlo’s death, Natalie had lost her last friend; with the stolen
money and diamonds, Marianne was robbed of her last pecuniary means. But
Natalie paid no attention to Marianne’s lamentations. What cared she for
poverty and destitution--what knew she of these outward treasures, of
this wealth consisting in gold and jewels? Natalie knew only that she
had been robbed of a noble, spiritual possession--that they had murdered
the friend who had consecrated himself to her with such true and devoted
love, and, weeping over his body, she dedicated to him the tribute of a
tear of the purest gratitude, of saddest lamentation.
But so imperfect is the world that it often leaves no time for
mourning--that in the midst of our sorrow it causes us to hear the
prosaic voices of reality and necessity, compelling us to dry our eyes
and turning our thoughts from painfully-sweet remembrances of a lost
happiness to the realities of practical life.
Natalie’s delicately-sensitive soul was to experience this rough contact
of reality, and, with an internal shudder, must she bend under the rough
hand of the present.
Pale, breathless, trembling, rushed Marianne into the room where
Natalie, in solitary mourning, was weeping for her lost friend.
“We are ruined, hopelessly ruined!” screamed Marianne. “They will drive
us from our last possession, they will turn us out of our house! All the
misfortunes of the whole world break over and crush us!”
The young maiden looked at her with a calm, clear glance.
“Then let them crush us,” she quietly said. “It is better to be crushed
at once than to be slowly and lingeringly wasted!”
“But you hear me not, princess,” shrieked Marianne, wringing her hands.
“They will drive us from here, I tell you; they will expel you from your
house!”
“And who will do that?” asked the young maiden, proudly rising with
flashing eyes. “Who dares threaten me in my own house?”
“Without are soldiers and bailiffs and the officers of the Russian
embassy. They have made a forcible entrance, and with force they will
expel you from the house. They are already sealing the doors and seizing
everything in the house.”
A dark purple glow for a moment overspread Natalie’s cheeks, and her
glance was flame. “I will see,” said she, “who has the robber-like
boldness to dispute my possession of my own property!”
With proud steps and elevated head she strode through the room to the
door opening upon the corridor.
The bailiffs and soldiers, who had been placed there, respectfully stood
aside. Natalie paid no attention to them, but immediately advanced to
the officer who, with a loud voice, was just then commanding them to
seal all the doors and see that nothing was taken from the rooms.
“I wish to know,” said Natalie, with her clear, silver-toned voice--“I
wish to know by what right people here force their way into my house,
and what excuse you have for this shameless conduct?”
The officer, who was no other than Stephano, bowed to her with a
slightly ironical smile.
“Justice needs no excuse,” said he. “On the part and by command of her
illustrious majesty, the great Empress Catharine, I lay an attachment
upon this house and all it contains. It is from this hour the sacred
possession of her Russian majesty.”
“It is the exclusive property of the Count Paulo!” proudly responded
Natalie.
“It was the property of Count Paul Rasczinsky,” said Stephano. “But
convicted traitors have no property. This criminal count has been
convicted of high-treason. The mercy of the empress has indeed changed
the sentence of death into one of eternal banishment to Siberia, but
she has been pleased to approve the confiscation of all he possessed. In
virtue of this approval, and by permission of the holy Roman government,
I attach this house and its contents!”
Natalie no longer heard him. Almost unconscious lay she in Marianne’s
arms. Paulo was lost, sentenced to death, imprisoned, and banished for
life--that was all she had heard and comprehended--this terrible news
had confused and benumbed her senses.
“Sir!” implored Marianne, pressing Natalie to her bosom, “you will at
least have some mercy upon this young maiden; you will not thrust us
out upon the streets; you will grant us a quiet residence in this house
until we can collect our effects and secure what is indisputably ours!”
“Every thing in this house is the indisputable property of the empress!”
roughly responded Stephano.
“But not ourselves, I hope!” excitedly exclaimed Marianne. “This
imperial power does not extend over our persons?”
Stephano roughly replied: “The door stands open, go! But go directly,
or I shall be compelled to arrest you for opposing the execution of the
laws, and stirring up sedition!”
“Yes, let us go,” cried Natalie, who had recovered her
consciousness--“let us go, Marianne. Let us not remain a moment longer
in a house belonging to that barbarous Russian empress who has condemned
the noble Count Paulo as a criminal, and, robber-like, taken forcible
possession of his property!”
And, following the first impulse of her noble pride, the young maiden
took Marianne by the hand and drew her away.
“They, at least, shall not forcibly eject us,” said she; “no, no, we
will go of our own free will, self-banished!”
“But where shall we go?” cried Marianne, wringing her hands.
“Where God wills!” solemnly responded the young maiden.
“And upon what shall we live?” wailed Marianne. “We are now totally
destitute and helpless. How shall we live?”
“We will work!” said Natalie, firmly. A peculiar calm had come over her.
Misfortune had awakened a new quality in her nature, sorrow had struck
a new string in her being; she was no longer the delicate, gentle,
suffering, unresisting child; she felt in herself a firm resolution, a
bold courage, an almost joyful daring, and an invincible calmness.
“Work! _You_ will work, princess?” whispered Marianne.
“I will learn it!” said she, and with a constantly quickened step they
approached the outlet of the garden.
The gate which led out into the street was wide open; soldiers in
Russian uniform had been stationed before it, keeping back with their
carbines the curious Romans who crowded around in great numbers, glad of
an opportunity to get a peep into the so-long-closed charmed garden.
“See, there she comes, the garden fairy!” cried they all, as Natalie
neared the gate.
“How beautiful she is, how beautiful!” they loudly exclaimed.
“That is a real fairy, a divinity!”
Natalie heard none of these expressions of admiration--she had but one
object, one thought. She wished to leave the garden; she wished to go
forth; she had no regrets, no complaints, for this lost paradise; she
only wished to get out of it, even if it was to go to her death.
But the soldiers stationed at the gate opposed her progress.
Natalie regarded them with terror and amazement.
“They cannot, at least, oppose my voluntary resignation of my property,”
said she. “Away with these muskets and sabres! I would pass out!”
And the young maiden boldly advanced a step. But those weapons stretched
before her like a wall, and Natalie was now overcome by anguish and
despair; the inconsolable feeling of her total abandonment, of her
miserable isolation. Tears burst from her eyes, her pride was broken,
she was again the trembling young girl, no longer the heroic woman; she
wept, and in tremulous tone, with folded hands, she implored of these
rough soldiers a little mercy, a little compassion.
They understood not her language, they had no sympathy; but the
crowd were touched by the tears of the beautiful girl and by the sad
lamentations of her companion. They screamed, they howled, they insulted
the soldiers, they swore to liberate the two women by force, if the
soldiers any longer refused them a passage. Dumb, unshaken, immovable,
like a wall stood the soldiers with their weapons stretched forth.
Through the hissing and tumult a loud and commanding voice was suddenly
heard to ask, “What is going on here? What means this disturbance?” An
officer made his way through the crowd, and approached the garden gate.
The soldiers respectfully gave way, and he stepped into the garden.
“Oh, sir,” said Natalie, turning to him her tearful face, “if you are an
honorable man, have compassion for an abandoned and unprotected maiden,
and command these soldiers, who seem to obey you, to let me and my
companion go forth unhindered.”
The Russian officer, Joseph Ribas, bowed low and respectfully to her.
“If it is the Princess Tartaroff whom I have the honor of addressing,”
said he, “I must in the name of my illustrious lord, beg your pardon for
what has improperly occurred here; at his command I come to set it all
right!”
Thus speaking, he returned to the soldiers, and in a low tone exchanged
some words with their leader. The latter bowed respectfully, and at his
signal the soldiers shut the gate and retired into the street.
“Am I to be detained here as a prisoner?” exclaimed Natalie. “Am I not
allowed to leave this garden?”
“Your grace, preliminarily, can still consider this garden as your own
property,” he respectfully responded. “I am commanded to watch that no
one dare to disturb you here, and for this purpose my lord respectfully
requests that you will have the goodness to permit me to remain in your
house as the guardian of your safety.”
“And who is this generous man?” asked Natalie.
“He is a man who has made a solemn vow to protect innocence everywhere,
when he finds it threatened!” solemnly responded Joseph Ribas. “He is
a man who is ready to shed his blood for the Princess Tartaroff, who
is surrounded by enemies and dangers; a man,” he continued, in a lower
tone, “who knows and loves your friend and guardian, Count Paulo, and
will soon bring you secret and sure news from him!”
“He knows Count Paulo!” joyfully exclaimed Natalie. “Oh, then all is
well. I may safely confide in whoever knows and loves Count Paulo, for
he must bear in his bosom a noble heart!”
And turning to Joseph Ribas with a charming smile, she said, “Sir, lead
me now where you will. We will both gladly follow you!”
“Let us, first of all, go into the villa, and send away those
troublesome people!” said the Russian officer, preceding the two women
to the house.
The bailiffs and soldiers were still there, occupied with sealing the
doors and closets. Joseph Ribas approached them with angry glances, and,
turning to Stephano, said, “Sir, I shall call you to account for this
over-hasty and illegal proceeding!”
“I am in my right!” morosely answered Stephano. “Here is the command to
attach this villa. It has fallen to the Russian crown as the property of
the traitor Rasczinsky.”
“There is only the one error to be corrected,” said Joseph Ribas, “that
this villa was not the property of Count Rasczinsky, as he some months
ago sold it to his friend, my master. And as, so far as I know, the
illustrious count, my master, never was a traitor, you will please to
respect his property!”
“You will have first to authenticate your assertions!” responded
Stephano, with a rude laugh.
“Here is the documental authentication!” said Joseph Ribas, handing a
paper to Stephano. The latter, after attentively reading the documents,
bowed reverentially, and said: “Sir, it appears that I was certainly
mistaken. This deed of gift is _en regle_, and is undersigned by his
grace the Russian ambassador. You will pardon me, as I only acted
according to my orders.”
Joseph Ribas answered Stephano’s reverential bow with a haughty nod.
“Go,” said he, “take off the seals in the quickest possible time, and
then away with you!”
But as Stephano was about retiring with his people, Joseph Ribas
beckoned him back again.
“You have, therefore, recognized this deed of gift?” asked he, and as
Stephano assented, he continued: “You therefore cannot deny that my
master is the undisputed possessor of this villa, and can do with it
according to his pleasure?”
“I do not deny it at all!” growled Stephano.
Joseph Ribas then drew forth another paper, which he also handed
Stephano. “You will also recognize this deed of gift to be regular and
legal! It is likewise undersigned and authenticated by our ambassador.”
Stephano, having attentively read it, almost indignantly said:
“It is all right. But the count is crazy, to give away so fine a
property!”
And still grumbling, he departed with his people.
Clinging to Marianne’s side, Natalie had observed the whole proceeding
with silent wonder; and, with the astonishment of innocence and
inexperience, she comprehended nothing of the whole scene, nor was a
suspicion awakened in her childishly pure soul.
“He is, then, really going?” she asked, as Stephano was slowly moving
off.
“Yes, he is going,” said Joseph Ribas, “and will never venture to
disturb you again. Henceforth you will be in undisputed possession of
your property. My lord has made this villa and garden forever yours by a
regular legal deed of gift.”
“And who is your lord?” asked Natalie. “Tell me his name--tell me where
I may find him, that I may return him my thanks?”
“Yes, conduct us to him,” said the weeping Marianne. “Let me clasp his
feet and implore his further protection for my poor helpless princess.”
“My lord desires no thanks,” proudly responded Ribas. “He does good for
his own sake, and protects innocence because that is the duty of every
knight and nobleman.”
“At least tell me his name, that I may pray for him,” sobbed Marianne.
“Yes, his name,” said Natalie, with a charming smile. “Ah, how I shall
love that name!”
“His name is his own secret,” said Ribas. “The world, indeed, knows and
blesses him, calling him the bravest of the brave. But it is his command
that you shall never be informed of it. He desires nothing, no thanks,
no acknowledgments--he wishes only to secure your peace and happiness,
and thus redeem the solemn vow he made to his friend, Count Paulo
Rasczinsky, to guard and preserve you as a father, and to watch over you
as your tutelar genius!”
“Thanks, thanks, my God!” cried Marianne, with her arms raised toward
heaven. “Thou sendest us help in our need, Thou hast mercy on suffering
innocence, and sendest her a saviour in her greatest distress!”
The young maiden said nothing. Her radiant glance was directed
heavenward, and, folding her hands over her bosom, with a happy,
grateful smile she murmured:
“I am therefore no longer alone, I have a friend who watches over and
protects me. Whoever he may be, he is sent by Count Paulo. Whatever may
be his name, I shall be forever grateful to him!”