THE TOWER OF IVAN VELIKI.
AFTER seeing mademoiselle safe in her carriage, I turned to look for
the tall stranger who had startled her, but he had vanished. I gazed
about me in some astonishment, for the square was open, and a moment
before he had been at our heels.
“_Morbleu!_” I exclaimed sharply, “where is the fellow?”
“He went back into the cathedral, your Excellency,” Pierrot replied
quietly; “he walks fast and takes but a moment to disappear.”
“You have noticed him before?” I asked, my mind full of conjectures.
“Three times, monsieur,” Pierrot said,--“once at the palace, once
behind M. de Lambert in the Zemlianui-gorod, and once at the house of
Prince Dolgoruky.”
I started, a solution of the mystery occurring to me.
“Is he an attendant of Prince Dolgoruky?” I asked.
“I believe he is the prince’s equerry, monsieur,” Pierrot replied,
looking at me with an expression of intelligence.
Here was an easy explanation. Dolgoruky was conspicuous among
Mentchikof’s opponents; he was one of the older noblemen, and was no
doubt jealous of the increasing influence of the favorite, probably
feeling that he had a better claim to the czar’s confidence and
affection. Moreover, there was another motive for the opposition;
there was much sympathy felt for the exiled czarina and her son,
the czarevitch, which would imbitter the faction against Catherine
Shavronsky. She was the candidate of Mentchikof, and he was secretly
accused of having intrigued to depose Eudoxia; the czarina herself had
openly reproached him with exercising a bad influence over the czar,
and it was thought that he was unfriendly to the Czarevitch Alexis.
There could be no doubt that a man like Alexander Mentchikof would
bitterly resent Eudoxia’s reproaches, and it was natural that he should
have no friendship for her son. The opposing faction, therefore, saw a
double danger in his intrigues; if he could establish Catherine upon
the throne, her children might succeed instead of Alexis; and all the
old party, hating Peter’s reforms, were rallying around the son of
Eudoxia, who was herself a type of the uneducated, bigoted women of
the old Moscovite Court. Better that the czar should wed one of their
own partisans than be swayed by a mistress of Mentchikof’s selection!
Zotof was one of themselves, and I had no doubt that the faction was
behind him in his desire to marry his niece to Peter, in which case
mademoiselle would be the object of constant intrigue. They probably
supposed that they could control the “Prince Pope” and insure the
succession of Alexis, in precedence of any children that might be born
of a union between the czar and Najine. And her selection would be less
of an insult to Eudoxia than the elevation of Mentchikof’s creature.
All these things increased the difficulties of the situation, and I
was convinced that Prince Dolgoruky, fearing the miscarriage of his
schemes, had set a watch upon mademoiselle and her French lover, and
the suspicion of the French that was prevalent at Moscow increased the
peril for M. de Lambert. A glance at Pierrot’s face satisfied me that
he, too, comprehended the situation; he was a shrewd fox, and grasped
it as quickly as I did.
“Warn Touchet,” I said to him significantly; “he does not understand
the language, but he has a quick eye and a good sword arm.”
“I understand, M. le Vicomte,” Pierrot replied stolidly, and we walked
on across the square.
I was not startled, indeed not even surprised, when a few moments later
I encountered Prince Dolgoruky himself. He came out of the refectory
of the Miracle Monastery, accompanied only by one of the court dwarfs,
and, seeing me, stopped to await my approach. Personally, I liked the
prince, although he was a somewhat pompous man, and probably opposed
to every scheme I had on foot. Greeting me pleasantly, he walked with
me towards the Gate of the Redeemer. Whatever his thoughts were, he
turned the conversation at once on politics. Not all the Russians felt
confidence in the Saxon alliance; they knew that the War of the Spanish
Succession would involve the interests of King Augustus, who was the
creature of Austria and they already saw Russia deserted by her allies,
and attacked by Sweden on the north and Turkey on the south. Denmark
had been disposed of, and the wiser statesmen never trusted Augustus
the Dissembler, and their doubts were amply justified by the trick he
played Russia at the Peace of Altranstädt. Dolgoruky in his talk with
me showed his contempt for the Polish-Saxon intrigue.
“What we want,” he said frankly, “is an advantageous peace with Sweden.
We must have the Neva and St. Petersburg, but for my own part I am
weary of his Majesty of Poland. In the end he will make a peace with
Charles XII. that will suit him and will not suit the czar. He would
rather lose two Polands than two feet of his native Saxony.”
The event proved the truth of the prince’s assertion, but I was not
prepared to commit myself on the subject.
“Poland seems to me the most unfortunate,” I said, smiling, “since
she must support the war and see her territory parcelled out by the
conquerors.”
“Poland should be ours,” Dolgoruky replied decisively; “it is too much
a part of Russia to be torn to pieces by Augustus and that madman of
Sweden.”
“Charles XII.,” I said quietly; “a brilliant young hero.”
“A lunatic!” exclaimed the Russian, contemptuously. “Do you remember
the ‘Gottorp Fury,’ when he and his cousin Frederick, the Duke of
Holstein-Gottorp, rode through Stockholm in their shirts, and spent a
day striking off the heads of sheep in the palace, until the floors and
staircases ran with blood, while they threw the bleeding heads out of
the windows? Such men are fools.”
“The Duke of Holstein-Gottorp is the _casus belli_ between Sweden and
Denmark,” I remarked dryly.
Dolgoruky shrugged his shoulders. “Compare these men with his imperial
Majesty,” he said, “and you will find them but indifferent pictures of
royalty. Charles is at best but a mad king and a mad soldier, while the
czar has all the attributes of greatness, and only the one weakness
of trusting too implicitly in the judgment of those who have won his
regard.”
I knew that he referred to Mentchikof, and was amused.
“A weakness that is not unusual,” I remarked; “a sovereign is often
betrayed through his confidence!”
“Too often,” Dolgoruky said with feeling, “and once a favorite is
established, he will stop at nothing to gain complete control of his
master’s affairs; when a woman is added to the complication, it passes
an honest man’s patience.”
“Monsieur,” I said, smiling, “the Court of France has been swayed by
many fair women since Gabrielle d’Estrées quarrelled with Sully, and
before her day too. A courtier must learn to win the good graces of the
queen of the hour; it is only a plain soldier, like myself, who can
afford to carve his fortune with his sword.”
“I would rather carve mine with my sword,” he exclaimed, “than sue for
favor from--” He checked himself in time, catching the amusement in my
eye.
We had left the Kremlin and were walking through the Kitai-gorod; a few
rods more would bring us to the spot where our paths would naturally
separate.
“Be warned, prince,” I said kindly. “I have seen many changes, many
shifts of fortune. Let the court intrigues have a smooth road; seek
only the service of the state.”
He looked at me keenly, and smiled.
“Is that advice entirely disinterested, monsieur?” he asked.
We had both stopped, for here our ways parted.
“You must take the advice for what it is worth,” I replied calmly.
As I spoke, I glanced back and discovered the tall man, who had
shadowed mademoiselle, coming along a little behind Pierrot. I glanced
at the prince, and saw that he had followed my eyes.
“Your equerry is over-zealous,” I said, a trifle sharply.
He started. “My equerry?” he repeated with affected surprise.
“Yes, monsieur,” I replied coldly, “your equerry. This is not the
first time that I have found him in my wake. I trust your Excellency
will advise him to give my attendants more elbow-room; they are both
Frenchmen, and they cannot become accustomed to Moscovite manners.”
Dolgoruky was annoyed. He was not skilful in the art of dissimulation,
and stood frowning, uncertain whether to resent my manner or not.
“It is Tikhon,” he said after a moment. “I will speak to him; he is a
stupid fellow, and has probably erred through ignorance.”
“His face belies him then,” I said dryly; “I never saw a face more
shrewd. I bid your Excellency adieu.”
With this we parted, and he summoned Tikhon, and I heard hot words as
I passed on. Dolgoruky was manifestly angered and surprised that I had
fathomed his scheme of espionage, and I was well satisfied that I had
been able to warn him that he had shown his hand.
Half an hour later, I went to my lodgings to find M. de Lambert but
just returned from a fruitless visit to Zotof’s house. He was sitting
moodily at the table writing a letter, and scarcely noticed me as I
removed my cloak and sword. I was amused at his indifference, knowing
that my tidings would speedily dispel his apathy.
“You should have visited the Kremlin to-day, M. Guillaume,” I said
quietly.
He looked up at me carelessly, and with some little surprise at my
apparently meaningless remark.
“It will be well for you to pass the Cathedral of the Assumption
to-morrow afternoon,” I added, smiling.
In a moment he had caught my meaning, and his face kindled.
“You have seen her?” he exclaimed, springing up with his usual
impetuosity.
“Seen her?” I repeated tormentingly; “that is certainly indefinite,
monsieur. How many women are there in Moscow?”
“_Ma foi!_” he exclaimed impatiently, “you try me, M. le Maréchal; you
understand me well enough, but you love your own amusement.”
“Come now, M. de Lambert,” I said lightly, “let me have my jest. Have I
not sat opposite a disconsolate lover long enough to dull my spirit?
But I will not try you longer; I did see Mademoiselle Zotof to-day and
spoke with her, so I am a fortunate man.”
His face flushed, and his honest brown eyes lighted up so pleasantly
that I forgave him many short-comings.
“Was madame with her?” he asked quickly.
“She was attended only by her woman,” I replied, “and had been to the
cathedral. I spoke to her, and I think that she was glad to see me. I
did not forget you, monsieur. I pleaded your cause--in short, she will
go to the cathedral to-morrow at the same hour.”
He caught my hand and shook it warmly. There was no need for words, for
I understood him, and knew too that I had gained a hold upon his heart.
After a little I told him of Prince Dolgoruky and of Tikhon.
“Be warned, M. de Lambert,” I said; “there is danger ahead. You are
unfortunate enough to be the object of one party’s hopes and the
other’s anxiety,--in either case a dangerous position; even more so
than mademoiselle’s, whose place in the czar’s favor intimidates while
it excites the schemers. You, on the other hand, have no shelter but
the majesty of the King of France, not so potent here in Moscow; your
own wit and your own sword must be your chief reliance.”
“The danger to myself concerns me not at all,” he replied, “but
for mademoiselle I am deeply disturbed. Mentchikof will leave no
stone unturned to advance this Livonian woman; and while his success
would insure my chances of happiness, his defeat would increase
mademoiselle’s peril. Prince Dolgoruky’s conduct shows how deep the
intrigue runs, and it seems to me only to add another complication.”
“The prince represents the other faction at court,” I assented, “and
I do not doubt their determination to defeat Mentchikof. But you may
take this comfort, monsieur: the favorite is a power with the czar, and
Mademoiselle Shavronsky has beauty, wit, and ambition; therefore there
is hope that the autocrat may prefer the coarser charms of Catherine to
mademoiselle’s delicate beauty.”
He listened to me courteously, but I saw that he had a lover’s
conviction that no woman could bear comparison with mademoiselle. He
was too elated by the prospect of seeing his divinity to bear serious
remonstrance, but I prevailed upon him not to go alone to meet her. I
had seen enough to fear foul play, and determined to constitute myself
his guardian. I felt responsible for the young hot-head, and then too
he had won my regard. He was so brave a soldier, so true a gentleman,
so good a lover that he rejoiced my heart. The foibles of the court had
failed to spoil him, and I could forgive the fastidious elegance of the
courtier when I saw it side by side with conspicuous courage.
The appointed hour on the following day found us in the Kremlin; M.
de Lambert was all impatience, and I confess that my own interest was
keen. Touchet attended us; for many reasons, I preferred a man who
understood but little Russ and would comprehend less of the situation
than did Pierrot. We took up our position near the Tower of Ivan
Veliki, and M. de Lambert had time to become thoroughly impatient
before mademoiselle arrived. Whether her heart failed her at the last
moment or madame detained her I know not, but we had waited a full
half-hour before M. de Lambert uttered an exclamation and hurried
forward to meet two closely veiled women who were coming towards us.
Mademoiselle saw me, so I advanced also to greet her. She lifted
her veil and showed a charming face, suffused with a rosy hue that
increased the luster of her eyes. She evidently felt that she had taken
a decided step, and was doubtful of the propriety of her course, M. de
Lambert’s ardent greeting increasing her natural confusion. A flushed
and handsome young pair they looked, as they stood there before me,
shamefaced but manifestly happy at meeting each other.
“Mademoiselle,” I said gently, “I thank you for remembering my
petition; the day is brighter for seeing you.”
She smiled as she replied softly to my greeting, and then I discreetly
withdrew to a little distance, that they might have an opportunity
to converse. Her woman was waiting with Touchet, but as she spoke no
French and he only a few words of Russ, they made an amusing by-play
by their gestures and grimaces, which indeed conveyed nothing of
their meaning to each other. I watched them with enjoyment, for it
was evident that Touchet found it an effort to entertain her, and she
regarded him with distrust as an alien. Meanwhile mademoiselle and
her lover walked to and fro in the shadow of the great Tower of Ivan
Veliki, conversing in low tones; now and then I caught the czar’s name
and madame’s, and could see that M. de Lambert grew more eloquent each
moment, while mademoiselle was apparently uncertain; yet her face was
brighter than on the previous day. They had been talking a quarter of
an hour, and seemed to forget me, although I could overhear a sentence
or two as they passed and repassed me in their promenade.
“He is the czar and I but a poor French gentleman,” he said; “he can
offer you a crown and I--nothing but my sword and my heart.”
I saw mademoiselle’s face, and she gave her lover a charming glance.
“Is your heart so poor a thing, monsieur?” she asked; “it seems to me
that a true heart weighed in the scale with a diadem would exceed the
jewelled bauble.”
“You will be true to me, Najine!” he cried passionately.
“M. de Lambert,” I heard her reply, as they turned back upon their
walk, “I come of a loyal race, and the empty honor of a crown could not
shake my faith. Is there a better gift than an honest heart? A throne
and a heart are offered me--Guillaume, I prefer the heart!”
I smiled; were there ever two more simple children? Yet I loved them
both for their simplicity. A few moments later, mademoiselle had bidden
him adieu and came towards me with her veil down, so that I could but
dimly see her blushing cheeks as she parted from me. She had forbidden
our attendance, and with her woman walked rapidly away; as they did
so, I saw Tikhon come out of the cathedral and follow in their wake,
and knew that we had been watched. M. de Lambert saw it as quickly as
I did, and, before I could stop him, dashed off in pursuit. Knowing
his hot blood, I followed at once with Touchet, anticipating mischief.
Mademoiselle and her companion, walking fast, gained upon their
follower, and, turning the corner of the cathedral, disappeared just as
M. de Lambert overtook the Russian, and I could see that they disputed
together. Before I reached them, Guillaume struck the spy a blow with
the flat of his sword that stretched him on the ground; I know not
what would have ensued if I had not come up in time to catch his arm.
“You madman!” I exclaimed, “that is Prince Dolgoruky’s equerry. What
folly is this?”
But M. de Lambert’s blood was up. “The villain!” he cried fiercely;
“has he no other employment than to follow mademoiselle about the city?
I will teach him better manners.”
But Tikhon had scrambled to his feet while I held his assailant;
and although the fellow’s face was white with fury, he had felt the
strength of the Frenchman’s arm, and had no taste for more. Perhaps,
too, he saw the malicious delight on Touchet’s countenance, for my man
stood regarding the performance with unmitigated approval.
“Be off!” I exclaimed harshly; “and let this be a lesson to you to quit
the office of a common spy upon French gentlemen.”
He lowered at us with open resentment, but nevertheless retreated
slowly, as if half ashamed to yield to my command. It was plain that
only the number of his enemies discomfited him. When he was out of
sight, I read my fiery lover a lesson, although I knew it was to little
purpose, for he was at the white heat of anger; nor did I greatly blame
him for his righteous indignation; nevertheless, it was my duty to warn
him.
“You forget mademoiselle,” I said significantly; “it does her no good
to have this knave’s ill-will. It is easy to see that she is watched
at every step--watched by a party at court. Prince Dolgoruky would not
stoop to set a spy upon her unless grave interests were involved.”
But I might as well have talked to the wind. He would brook no
interference in any matter touching mademoiselle, and I saw that
he took my cautions with a poor grace, almost resenting my timely
interference.