CHAPTER XVIII--PRINCE KALKOV’S WELCOME

My first inclination was to burst out laughing at the egregious

absurdity of the blunder, but I restrained myself. Had I had no one but

myself to think for, I would have had my laugh, if the next minute had

seen me in the deepest dungeon in Petersburg. But I was carrying too

many responsibilities.

There are certain classes of officials at whom it is extremely

dangerous to laugh. You meet them in all countries; but on the

continent of Europe, they are able to resent your merriment practically

by clapping you into gaol and perhaps keeping you there. It is safer

consequently to laugh at unofficial people.

There was one quick way for me out of the bother, to refer the thing to

Prince Kalkov--and although I was loth to take it, I saw immediately

that I must adopt that course or be marched off by the soldiers who

were only too ready to obey the command.

“You must not permit yourself to commit this mistake, monsieur,” I

said, quietly, “or you will incur the serious displeasure of Prince

Kalkov, as well as of His Majesty. I do not wish to bring trouble

upon so courteous an official, and consequently urge you in your own

interest to communicate with the Prince without delay.”

Nowhere in the world does a big name properly used carry more terror

than in Russia’s capital; and I put all the authority I could into my

tone and manner.

“What have you to do with His Highness?” asked the man, hesitating and

yet suspicious, and motioning to the soldiers to wait.

“It happens to be the case that I have told you the truth about myself

and you have disbelieved me. You have sent for these gentlemen and

ordered my arrest. I will overlook that insult if you send a letter

which I will write to the Prince. And if you will not, I warn you

in all seriousness that I can and will obtain from His Majesty your

dismissal and disgrace.”

“I have done no more than my duty,” he returned sullenly. He was

obviously unwilling to give way before his inferiors, and yet secretly

afraid to persist.

“On the contrary, monsieur, you are exceeding your powers now. I have

shown you how to obtain instant confirmation of what I have told you

from the highest authority, and in the simplest manner. Refuse, and

take the consequences. I am like yourself in one respect--my patience

has its limits.”

“You had this upon you,” he said in the same tone, as he fingered my

revolver. “And, as I said, it is loaded.”

I turned to the soldiers.

“Gentlemen, I am at your disposal. Take me to the guard-house and send

to me the officer of the watch;” and I moved toward the door.

The sergeant himself had no liking for the job now, however, and

hesitated; and the official in a surly tone gave in.

“You can write,” he said, and laid paper and pen on the desk.

“I will not write now,” I said curtly, for I began to see another

ending to the affair. “I gave you the opportunity and you declined it.

I will go to the guard-house. His Majesty and Prince Kalkov shall find

me there, and you can explain. Come, gentlemen, if you please; or shall

I go alone?”

That any one should exhibit a preference to be arrested was so novel an

experience for Russian officialism that they were all staggered. The

official took refuge in anger.

“Are you attempting a joke with me?” he cried.

“I do not joke with persons in your position,” I retorted sternly.

“I have my duty,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

“If you deem it your duty to degrade Prince Kalkov’s friend by

imprisoning him, do it, monsieur--if you dare.”

“It is an impossible position.”

“You have created it, and must find the way out. But every minute I am

detained here will count against you with the Emperor;” and I pulled

out my watch as if to mark them off. He was sorely perplexed.

“I will consider the matter. Withdraw your men, sergeant;” and they

filed out again, the sergeant manifestly relieved. “I will send to His

Highness.”

“You will do nothing of the sort, monsieur, now,” I said. I saw that he

was now practically convinced of my good faith, and I meant to gain my

end in my own way.

“You can enter the Palace, monsieur, but I must retain this,” and he

held up my revolver.

“We Americans do not consent to be robbed even in an Emperor’s Palace,”

I retorted, bent on winning with the honours of war.

“It will be returned to you, monsieur; but I cannot consent to allow

you to pass with a weapon in your possession. I dare not take the

responsibility.”

“There’s reason in that, perhaps,” I agreed after a pause. “You can

keep it until I come to reclaim it.”

He opened the door for me then, and murmured an apology.

“I am sorry for what has occurred, but you will understand the

difficulty in which I found myself.”

“If you do not mention it, monsieur, I shall not; but if you do I

shall make the worst of it. In your private ear I may tell you I have

been away on urgent business of the Prince’s, and he wishes neither my

departure nor my return to attract notice. I need say no more to so

zealous a servant of His Highness;” and I gave him a look which I hoped

would secure his silence.

I was passing out when a thought occurred to me.

“It will perhaps complete your satisfaction if you accompany me to my

suite of rooms.”

He was more than pleased; and so was I, for by this means I secured

myself from all further interruption at the hands of the numerous

members of the household whom we met on the way.

I had some difficulty in finding my rooms, but succeeded at length,

and taking my companion in with me, was soon able to convince him

thoroughly of his mistake. He overwhelmed me with profuse apologies,

returned my revolver, begged me to overlook his action, and what was

much more important, assured me I could depend upon his silence as to

my return.

It is always an intense satisfaction to turn a check into an advantage,

and I was disposed to plume myself upon my adroitness and to regard the

incident as of good omen for the start of things.

I dressed myself in my own clothes once more, and then had to consider

how best to reach the Emperor. I was, moreover, desperately hungry, and

how to get a breakfast puzzled me.

It is so often the little fiddling trivialities which cause so much

embarrassment. The servant who had waited upon me before had been

Kalkov’s confidential man, Pierre, and I was naturally unwilling that

he should know of my return, as he would instantly inform his master.

Some breakfast I must have, however, and to get it I must of course

ring the bell and take my chance. The luck was with me this time. The

man who came was a stranger.

“I will have my breakfast served in my room this morning,” I said in an

off-hand tone, as if I had lived in the Palace half my life. He was too

well trained to express any surprise even if he felt any; and in a few

minutes he returned with a breakfast and stayed to wait upon me.

I ate the meal in silence, and then lighting a cigar I said in a casual

way--

“You have not waited upon me before, I think. I don’t recall your face.”

“I have been absent from the Palace, monsieur.”

“Ah, that explains it.”

“I returned the day before yesterday, monsieur,” he said with a quick

glance and in a significant tone which showed his thoughts.

“I see, that was while I was away. Is His Majesty recovered from his

indisposition?”

“By the blessing of Providence, completely, monsieur,” he replied

earnestly. “But it was not serious, happily.”

“That is good news,” I said; but it struck me as singular that his

recovery should be complete before my return. It seemed to lend some

kind of confirmation to my former suspicion that Kalkov had played me

false in regard to the Emperor.

“By the way, you will be waiting upon me for the future, I suppose?” I

said after a pause.

“Yes, monsieur.”

“I am glad of that,” and I gave him a couple of gold pieces as a

material proof of my pleasure. “I wish to have an audience of His

Majesty this morning. Can you get my request to him? I will write it.

It is important.”

“There will be no difficulty, monsieur.”

I wrote a note urging His Majesty to grant me an immediate interview

and handed it to the man.

“You know who I am, of course,” I said, with a smile.

“His Highness Prince Kalkov’s man, Pierre, told me that the suite was

reserved for M. Denver, an American gentleman. But he described you

differently, monsieur.”

“Oh, you mean my beard. Yes, I had to shave it off. Well, get my letter

to His Majesty as soon as you can.”

All was going so easily that when he had taken away the letter I

indulged in a little pardonable jubilation, as I ran hastily over the

heads of what I had to say to the Emperor.

It had not been so difficult, after all, to break through the cordon

with which the Prince surrounded the Emperor; and my direct American

methods had done well.

If I could only succeed half as well with His Majesty, Helga and I--and

then my thoughts branched off to her, and all other considerations

slipped out of my mind.

She was worth winning indeed, let the fight be as stiff as it might.

Victory now meant a life full of radiant happiness with her--a

veritable queen among women. Let the price be what it might, it was

worth paying to see the light of loving gratitude which would spring

to her lovely face when I should claim her for my own and take her in

my arms and tell her that my ways had conquered when hers had failed,

and----

I had reached somewhere about that point when my rhapsodical reverie

was interrupted by a knock and the servant entered. I sprang to my feet

eagerly.

“His Highness Prince Kalkov to see you, monsieur,” he said, and in came

the Prince, hands extended and face beaming, as if in genuine hearty

welcome.

“My dear M. Denver, I cannot say how glad I am to see you back again,”

and he seized my hands and shook them warmly. “I have been really

anxious, painfully anxious, about you.”

For the life of me I could not for the moment shake myself free from

the chagrin and disappointment caused by his arrival and play up to the

part of appearing glad to see him.

“I am very glad to get back, Prince, I can assure you,” I said, with a

sort of tongue-tying hesitation, as his sharp eyes were playing about

my face like the blade of a skilful fencer round a novice.

“I thank my God you are alive and well, and have suffered no more hurt

than the loss of your beard. How it has changed you!” and as he looked

at me his grim wily old features relaxed into a smile.

“Yes, I had to shave,” I said.

“You are the Emperor no longer, monsieur. No one will make that mistake

again.”

“Thank God for that. I don’t care for the part at all.”

“That means you have had an exciting time,” he answered. “There are two

emotions which I make a rule to deny myself rigidly, monsieur, and you

have made me break the rule. They are enthusiasm and impatience. Now I

am enthusiastic when I think of your act; and impatient to hear your

account of it.”

But I was very far from impatient to give it him, and was indeed

cudgelling my wits how to colour it.

“In the first place I have a pretty heavy item against you, Prince,” I

said.

“For having let you embark in the thing, you mean. My dear M. Denver, I

give you my solemn assurance I had no idea there would be anything like

this result.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean the breach of the agreement between us that

Boreski’s carriage should not be followed.”

“Ah, that!” and he threw up his hands. “Yes, that was bad. It failed;

but those responsible for the failure have paid the penalty. They

should have known that Boreski might bring one of those cursed

motor-cars and thus be able to distance pursuit. I was served by

short-sighted fools--and fools of that kind I do not keep in my

employment. When I heard of it I was maddened.”

I let him run on in this way in the effort to draw me on to a side

issue, for my object now was to gain time in the hope that the summons

to the Emperor would come to interrupt the interview.

“I don’t refer to the failure, I mean the attempt. You promised that no

attempt should be made.”

“My dear M. Denver, I give you my word that the thing was necessary. I

should have done precisely the same had you been in truth the Emperor

himself. Of course, you know, monsieur, that there are times when the

commands even of kings have to be secretly disregarded.”

He gave the last sentence with a kind of semi-confidential air.

“I don’t know anything of the etiquette which surrounds kings, but I do

know, Prince, had I not trusted your word I should not have gone,” I

replied with the severe manner of a man with a genuine grievance.

“I am deeply sorry, monsieur, profoundly sorry; but, as I say, I only

treated you as I should my august master. And what effect, then, had

it? It must have been serious, of course. I can tell that by the stress

you lay upon it.”

“It was a breach of faith with Boreski.”

He waved his hand carelessly and smiled to show his indifference to

that.

“He was clever enough to elude the pursuit, and had evidently come

prepared for the trial of wits.”

“It made him suspicious, of course; and jaundiced his view of the

documents I had to lay before him.”

“I am afraid you have failed with him, then. You did not get the

papers?”

“No, I did not.” I spoke reluctantly, angry at the adroit manner in

which he had got at the pith of the thing so quickly.

“That is very disappointing,” he said. “Yes, very disappointing. But I

am sure it is no fault of yours.”

He appeared to be quite earnest in expressing his disappointment at the

failure; but his manner of referring to the papers was in such contrast

to his former reference to them that I could not fail to be struck

by it. I jumped to the conclusion consequently that he knew of the

interview between the Emperor and the Duchess Stephanie and thought

they were still to be recovered through her.

“No; it was no fault of mine,” I replied.

“I am under a deep obligation to you, M. Denver, for having made the

attempt--an obligation which will find expression in a way that I

think you will appreciate. I mean in regard to your projected journey.

Everything that the Government can do to help that shall be done. I

give you my word.”

“That is very good of you.”

He looked at me very shrewdly as I spoke.

“You have not abandoned the idea, have you? I know that many of your

countrymen act on impulse,” he said with a smile.

“Abandoned it? Oh no. Why should I?”

“Well, I did not know whether anything in your present experiences

might incline you to think our country not as--as safe for travellers

as some others.”

That there was something underneath his words and his calm smiling

suavity was as clear as an ant in amber.

“One has to take risks, of course,” I replied indifferently.

“What I mean is that if you would rather turn back, you would of course

have our protection to the frontier. If, for instance, you thought you

would rather approach our Asiatic dependencies from the other end?”

“I have seen nothing of the capital itself yet, Prince.”

“True, comparatively nothing; but this is a bad season of the year for

Petersburg.”

“You have some meaning behind that,” I said pointedly.

“How could I, M. Denver? You have told me nothing yet of your

experiences.”

He was blandness itself, with just the necessary shred of reproachful

reminder of my omission.

“I am waiting to see the Emperor. I have asked him for an audience this

morning; and as my story to you will take rather long in the telling,

it would be better to postpone it.”

“His Majesty will be charmed, I am sure. Did you hear of the _ruse de

guerre_ about his indisposition?” and he smiled again.

I was getting to be rather afraid of these smiles of his.

“Yes, a paper was shown me.”

“I hoped it would be. I hoped it would be. It was a rather ingenious

bit of colour. But His Majesty had to recover yesterday.”

“Before I returned,” I put in drily.

“He had to go to Moscow to meet the Crown Prince, you see.”

“Do you mean His Majesty is in Moscow?” I cried.

“Did you not know it? The servant should have told you this morning.

These men are really addlepated fools,” he cried with an excellent

indignation, as his sharp glittering eyes fixed on me. He was enjoying

my momentary confusion, I am sure.

“No, I did not know it,” I answered, with difficulty smothering an oath.

“He was overwhelmed with regret that you had not returned before he

went--the more so as he knew you would have left Petersburg before his

return.” He continued to enjoy my discomfiture, for a moment, and then

added lightly: “But at any rate there is one compensation for me. It

will give ample time for me to hear your story, for which, as I told

you, I am really impatient. Will you tell it here, or would you like to

come to my apartments?”

“It doesn’t matter, one place is as good as another,” I answered, in

any but an amiable tone.

I was no match for him at this game of fence. Already he had contrived

to fill me with a kind of fearsome speculation as to how much he

had managed to hear of my doings and concerning Helga. There was

suggestiveness in every word he uttered, and every look and gesture he

made.

“Why did the Emperor think I should not be in Petersburg on his

return?” I asked after a pause. “You are perplexing me, Prince.”

“I told him so, my dear M. Denver,” he replied, as if frankly.

“Why?”

He spread out his hands and smiled.

“May we not find a reason in your interesting narration? I have really

never known myself to feel so much impatience for anything of the kind

before. I entreat of you not to keep me in suspense.”

And he threw himself back in his chair and folded his hands in the

attitude of an interested listener and looked to me to begin.

When I Was Czar · 第 18 / 32 章