THE BLIND HEN'S GENUINE PEARL
What had Chevalier Galban found so admirable on the terrace of Belvedere
Castle, and what did he find so impregnable there?
In truth, a lovely view! In the foreground the massed trees of Lazienka
forest, clad in the tender hues of spring's young green, their colors
ranging from the golden green of the maple to the reddish purple of the
sumach, delighted the eye. From amidst the thick foliage arose the zinc
roofs of John Sobieski's ancestral home, Lazienka Castle. Red and green
roofs of luxurious villas peeped out here and there from among the
trees; rows of silvery poplars overtowering the rest marked out
cross-roads. In the distance the ancient capital of Poland, living heart
of a dead body; the terraces of the once royal castle showing where its
gardens had been; on the Gothic towers of St. John's Church the golden
crosses glistening. Below the city, the winding Vistula, its islands
ablaze with spring-tide glory. To the right the great Belian forest,
with its ancient Camaldulen Monastery, its walls glowing in the light of
the evening sun; and then, dumb witness to so many an historic event,
the great Wolja plain, where formerly kings were elected. On the
horizon, fast disappearing in the golden haze of evening, the outline of
a castle--Mariemont, whilom residence of Marie Sobieski.
"A lovely view, is it not?" said Johanna to Chevalier Galban, as, having
reached the highest terrace of Belvedere, they let their eyes wander
round.
"A magnificent prison," returned the Chevalier.
Johanna looked in astonishment at him with her large brown eyes, which,
neither dazzling nor enticing, were full of soul.
"A prison--for whom?" she asked, surprised.
"For a saint and martyr, who is ready to sacrifice herself for her
nation."
"And who may this be, and wherein her sacrifice? I do not understand
you."
"Truly, it is not martyrdom to be tortured with red-hot iron if that
torture be borne in patience; but it is martyrdom to give one's heart to
be tortured in a manner more cruel than human imagination has yet
conceived. And to be torn in pieces by a wild beast is not so ghastly a
death as to kiss and embrace such a monster. Such a sacrifice could only
be conceived by a Polish woman and for the Polish nation!"
"Either I fail to understand you, or you are laboring under some
mistake," returned Johanna, handing the Chevalier a cup of fragrant
mocha as they seated themselves.
Chevalier Galban was a practised strategist at such storming operations.
He knew at once where the fortress was weakest.
"Duchess! wherever the name of the Polish Viceroy is heard, that of
Johanna Grudzinska is named with it; with adoration and affection people
utter it, for she is the guardian angel of all who are oppressed and
afflicted."
"I know nothing of all this. Here only criminals are punished; and
_such_ punishment I can do nothing to hinder."
"Perhaps not in words; perhaps only unconsciously. Yet the whole world
knows that Poland's terror has changed under the magic of your
influence. He has sane periods in which he treats his people with
clemency. And for these Poland has to thank you!"
"Herr Galban! Do you not see that any praise must be repugnant to me
which reflects upon my husband?"
"Far be it from me in any way to reflect upon the Czarevitch, my master.
He is as nature and circumstances have made him. The ruling of a nation
is no poetry, nor is it a matter of Scriptural teaching; it has its
established laws. Diplomacy is heartless, and a thorough-going statesman
must be heartless likewise. Every one knows that the Czarevitch is a
tyrant to his subjects."
"But to me he is my husband, to whom I am bound by every law of love and
duty."
"It is just that which makes my blood boil. I can talk openly to you. I
must confess, when I undertook the mission intrusted me by Araktseieff,
I had conceived a very different idea of you from what I do, now that I
am face to face with you. In the different courts I have visited I have
come across many ladies who have deluded themselves with the belief that
the love of crowned heads is quite another thing from the love of
ordinary mortals. Once their mistake found out, they have been able to
console themselves; and when higher state interests have demanded the
sacrifice of their affections, they have accepted the title of countess
or princess, with its accompanying estate as compensation, and have
survived it."
"But what analogy is there between their and my position? I was solemnly
married to my husband. At the altar I first placed my hand in his. I
bear his name, and I know he loves me truly."
"Ah, Princess, you have no conception at present of the heartless nature
of diplomacy! What you say is perfectly true; but you certainly did not
notice that in the marriage ceremony the priest placed the Grand Duke's
left--not his right--hand in yours. This was no treachery, no deception;
it is customary with princes of the blood, and their wives and children
can hold up their heads without shame. But--and here comes in the
infamy--Araktseieff is set upon proclaiming the Grand Duke as the Czar's
successor to the throne, because he is his ideal. But to this end it is
imperative that the Grand Duke should take back his first wife, who is
still living, _and who is a member of a reigning dynasty_; for the
fundamental laws of the empire allow no other woman to ascend the
throne. Do you now see the fate awaiting you?"
"However hard it be, I will endure it silently."
"You will be deprived of your husband's name; and as Count Grudzinski
cannot give you back his, you will be made Princess of Lovicz. Can you
not now picture to yourself what your future lot will be?"
"Patience and resignation!"
"Did you not notice the cruel smile on Araktseieff's face as, when
kissing your hand, he said, 'The sight of this happiness reminds me _of
mine_'? By that he intended to put you on a par with the woman called
Daimona, who is only his paramour and was a _vivandière_."
"I do not feel the intended insult."
"No, no; it is impossible! When I heard the scheme, I too thought,
'After all, what will it matter? She, like other women, will receive
compensation, and, like them, will--survive it.' But since I have been
brought face to face with those clear, pure eyes, which so faithfully
mirror the noble heart within, I ceased to consult my reasoning powers,
for they counselled me to take myself a hundred miles away and to make
myself believe that I had been dreaming. Since that moment I have been
pondering how--at the risk of my own life--I could save you. It must not
be that such an angel should fall a victim to such devilish intrigues!
It must not be that a Polish woman be forced to see her father's name
and coat of arms tarnished without any one to protect her--without means
of revenge!"
"What do you mean?"
"What do I mean? To tell you how you can revenge yourself! You must
anticipate those intriguers, and, in answer to their dishonoring
proposal, say, 'Keep your princedom of Lovicz for high-born courtesans.
I, a Polish noblewoman, will find a husband ready to give me the
protection of his honorable name and whole heart--a true man, who loves
and respects me!'"
Face, eyes, the Chevalier's dramatic action, all tended to illustrate
his words. It was not difficult for Johanna to divine whom he meant as
the "true man." Not the shadow of a blush tinted her cheek as, with
great composure, she replied:
"Chevalier Galban, do you see those walls surrounding Belvedere and
Lazienka? Within those walls you are my guest, and you have the right to
do exactly as you please, even to the length of insulting me; but only
within these walls, as my guest. As soon, however, as you are without
them, your immunity ceases. I will confide to no one what you have just
said to me. A Polish woman betrays no one, not even to her husband; she
revenges herself! So, once you have passed without these walls, for this
unpardonable insult I will order my people to give you a sound
thrashing! May I offer you a little more sugar in your coffee?"
Chevalier Galban burst into a peal of laughter.
"_Ma foi!_ the fate of war. Out of three assaults, one may come off
conqueror twice and yet be beaten the third time. Thank you, I will take
another piece of sugar."
Then he strolled out with Johanna into the park, admired her tulip-bed,
and, deferentially taking leave of her, went back to his chief, as
already related.
"Where did you leave my wife?" the Grand Duke asked, as he rose from
table.
"I accompanied her into the park. We parted at the Hermitage."
"Come, Araktseieff, let us go and find her! You take one way; I will
take the other. Whoever first finds her brings her back to Belvedere."
The Grand Duke was lucky. He was first to find Johanna. She was kneeling
on the grass feeding his pet rabbits; he let himself down clumsily
beside her.
"Take care!" he said; "the grass is wet with dew; you will take a
chill."
"It will not hurt me--I am strong."
"That's a story," he growled, "you are very delicate. I do not know how
to wait the season to send you to Ems, that you may take the baths for
which you are longing."
"I do not want to go there now."
"Why not?"
"I have been thinking it over. You would be unable to leave your post to
go with me; and to be weeks, months, away from you, not ever to see you,
is more than I could bear. I would so much rather stay here. Indeed, I
am quite well."
"What!" cried the Grand Duke, with a wild outburst of joy. "You love me
so much that you cannot live without me? that you would care for
nothing if you were away from me? Oh, my own true pearl of women!" And
taking up his wife in his strong arms he laughed, caressed, and covered
her with a shower of fiery kisses. "And they would separate me from my
wife! A fine idea, eh? Shall I throw you into this pond?" And he swung
her in his arms like a little child. "Are you afraid that I shall throw
you in? Ha, ha, ha! and do you think I would let them make you Princess
of Lovicz and be parted from you? That I would repay you for your love
and faithfulness with a title, and take another to wife? Are you afraid
of it? Shall I toss you into the pond? Hush!"
Johanna twined her arms round her husband's neck, kissed him, and
murmured, softly:
"Were you to dishonor me and chase me from you, I would come back to you
again. Were you to humiliate me from your wife into your mistress or
maid-servant, I would still serve and love you. I cannot do otherwise."
"Ha, ha, ha! And from such a woman they would have torn me. Hallo!
Araktseieff! This way, man. I've found her."
When Araktseieff, turning into the winding path, caught sight of the
Grand Duke with Johanna in his arms, he knew what had happened.
"Tell them," shouted the Czarevitch when he was still at some distance,
and in a voice hoarse with emotion--"tell them that _I do not give up a
wife who loves me for a whole empire that hates me_! When are you and
your Chevalier Galban going back?"
"With your Imperial Highness's permission, I will stay the night. But
Chevalier Galban has left the castle already, I see from a note he left
for me. He says he was compelled to hasten his departure; the ground
was burning under his feet, for Duchess Johanna had threatened him with
a horsewhipping for a speech which had displeased her."
"A horsewhipping!" cried the Grand Duke. "What! my Johanna order any one
to be horsewhipped? _Come on my right hand, wife!_" And releasing
Johanna from the embrace in which he still held her, he offered her his
right arm, with face beaming with joy.
"Go back to those who sent you, my good friend, and tell them that I am
about to wed Princess Lovicz in right-handed marriage. And as she may
not accompany me to St. Petersburg, I will go with her to Ems, with the
Czar's permission. And now get ready your trumpery papers that I have to
sign."
With these words he turned away, and what he had further to say to
Johanna was inaudible from kisses and laughter.
That which Krizsanowski had promised in the sitting of the Szojusz
Blagadenztoiga had come about--the incredible fact that a man could
voluntarily resign his succession to the throne of the mightiest empire
in the world, and in such a manner that, did he ever repent, he might
never undo his act. That incredible fact had become not a possibility,
but a thing accomplished. The solution to the riddle was, as Zeneida had
divined at the time, Johanna. For the present, however, none knew of it
save the participators and the trees of the ancient forest about them.
Ah! what a terrific, world-wide catastrophe was this idyl to bring
about!