AN IMPERIAL INQUISITOR.
WHEN I saw that my visitor was the czar, I suppressed my surprise, and
put the taper calmly upon the table, making my obeisance with all the
grace that I could command.
“Your Majesty honors me by this visit,” I said gravely, “but if I had
been advised of your coming I should have been better prepared.”
“Doubtless,” the czar replied dryly, “but it was for that reason that
I chose to come unannounced, M. le Maréchal. M. de Lambert, be kind
enough to remain where you are,” he added sharply.
M. de Lambert had made an effort to leave the room to warn Najine,
but at the czar’s words he paused, and stood haughtily with his back
against the door, and I saw the fire of determination in his brown eyes
as he looked back defiantly at the autocrat. I drew forward the best
chair in the room.
“Your Majesty will be seated,” I said courteously. “I am indeed
unprepared, but the best that the house affords is at the service of
the czar.”
“Pshaw, M. l’Ambassadeur!” Peter exclaimed with his usual frankness,
“you know that I do not come to pay you a formal visit at night and
almost unattended. The greatest courtesy that you can show me is to
reply to my questions without prevarication. You have one visitor here
already; who is she?”
His question was abrupt, but I had the advantage of being in a measure
prepared for it and remained undisturbed.
“I do not understand your Majesty,” I replied calmly; “I have no
visitors.”
The czar looked at me with passionate scorn, his great figure towering
in the dimly lighted room.
“Who was the woman who went out that door as I entered the other?” he
demanded sternly, pointing his finger at the door against which M. de
Lambert had set his back.
“Madame de Brousson,” I replied promptly, with some relief that I could
tell half the truth.
His lip curled scornfully. “Do you take me for a fool, M. le Maréchal?”
he exclaimed; “I presume that your wife did go out that door--and who
went with her?”
I was standing opposite to him, my hand resting on the back of the
chair that he had refused, and I looked him full in the face.
“Your Majesty is pleased to cross-question me closely about the affairs
of my own household,” I said haughtily.
“M. de Brousson,” he replied hotly, “Najine Zotof is in this house and
you know it.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “If your Majesty is convinced that the young
woman is here, why should I be questioned?” I said, conscious that the
blood burned on my cheeks, for his glance was exasperating.
“There is wisdom in that remark, sir,” he replied tartly. “It is indeed
unnecessary for you to reply, because I know she is here--here without
the consent or knowledge of her guardians,” he struck his hand on the
table sharply, “here on some foolish errand. Therefore, M. le Maréchal,
I demand that you bring her before me.”
I saw M. de Lambert’s face flush scarlet, and his hand seek the hilt of
his sword, and dreaded some act of folly. I was striving to plan some
escape and did not reply to the czar.
“Are you deaf, sir?” Peter exclaimed harshly. “Produce Najine Zotof.”
I did not move, but stood erect before him, my arms folded on my breast.
“Your Majesty,” I said slowly, “I owe you profound respect, the
reverence due to an anointed king, the courtesy due to the friend of
my master; but I am an officer of Louis, King of France, and my oath
binds me to his service alone. I cannot become an equerry to any other
sovereign, nor would I do police duty for his Majesty of France. Your
Majesty’s commands unhappily exceed the limit of my compliance.”
He stood gnawing his lip and regarding me with a brow as black as a
thunder-cloud.
“I thank you for the lesson, M. l’Ambassadeur,” he said bitterly;
“perhaps this gentleman here can be more obliging,” he added, turning
scornfully to M. de Lambert.
I made a sign to him to beware of his reply, but his eyes were fixed
haughtily on the czar’s face.
“Your Majesty forgets,” he replied proudly, “that I also am a subject
of the King of France.”
“By all the saints,” the czar exclaimed passionately, “I wish the
King of France had kept you there! Are you weak, that you lean so
persistently against that door?” he added with fine sarcasm.
“Your Majesty desired that I should remain where I am,” M. de Lambert
replied calmly, a little amusement showing in his eyes.
“I am gratified,” the czar said scornfully, “to find one Frenchman so
little obstinate that he can comply with my request. M. le Vicomte,” he
added sharply, turning to me, “if you will not produce Najine, I must
even go and seek her.”
I started. I was not prepared for so extreme a measure, and if he
searched the house, he would undoubtedly find her, unless Zénaïde had
smuggled her out, which was improbable. I glanced quickly at M. de
Lambert, and read consternation in his eyes. But there was no remedy
even in delay; still I made one last attempt to save the situation.
“It is an extreme measure, your Majesty,” I said with forced composure;
“you have called me an ambassador--it is unusual to search the house of
an ambassador.”
He uttered an exclamation of impatience. “Ambassador or not, I shall
do as I please,” he said haughtily. “I am weary of this banter of idle
words. You and your friend here will precede me, monsieur.”
I bowed gravely, and taking up a taper prepared to light him through
the corridor.
“Not so fast, M. l’Ambassadeur,” he said quietly; “the other door, if
you please, and M. de Lambert can walk in front.”
I bit my lip; my choler was rising fast, and it cost me an effort to
obey him with the courtesy which was his due, and I saw that M. de
Lambert was furious. However, we were compelled to open the door and
walk like two children before him through the adjoining rooms; to my
infinite relief, they were empty, and though he lifted the arras there
was no one concealed behind it, and his face darkened as he proceeded,
without any result for his pains. The apartment in which he had found
us adjoined two others, which in turn were separated by a narrow
passage and ante-room from my wife’s sleeping-room, and at her door
the procession halted. The czar motioned to me to proceed, but I stood
unmoved.
“This is Madame de Brousson’s apartment,” I said with dignity; “your
Majesty does not intend to intrude here.”
For the moment he was nonplussed. It would be indeed an extreme measure
to search my wife’s rooms, and yet he and I both knew that here was the
fair fugitive whom he sought. He stood irresolute, anger glowing in his
dark eyes, and his lips compressed; then looking up he caught the gleam
of triumph in M. de Lambert’s eye, and that decided him.
“Be kind enough to inform Madame de Brousson that the czar desires to
speak with her,” he said sternly.
With a heavy heart I tapped upon the door and delivered his message. To
my amazement, Zénaïde threw open the door, and came out to greet him
with a sweeping curtsy.
“I am at your Majesty’s service,” she said, with a woman’s graceful
tact, ignoring his angry aspect.
Peter looked beyond her into an apparently vacant room, and I saw
astonishment mingle with the displeasure on his countenance.
“Madame,” he said gravely, “you have Najine Zotof in your room; where
is she?”
“Your Majesty sees my apartment,” she replied with a graceful gesture;
“mademoiselle is not visible there, certainly.”
“These are words, madame,” he exclaimed impatiently; “Najine is
concealed there, and you know it.”
Zénaïde drew back haughtily. “The room is open for your Majesty’s
inspection,” she said quietly; “it is mine, but I will not attempt to
oppose the czar, since I am suspected of falsehood.”
Her manner had a strange effect upon him; he regarded her intently,
admiring, I think, her beauty and her dignity.
“Your husband has made many objections to my search of this house,” he
said slowly, “because he is an ambassador of France. I appeal to you,
madame, would not the king my brother do likewise in my case?”
She looked up quickly. “Your Majesty means to ask if the king my master
would search this room?” she asked in her sweet voice.
“I do, madame,” he replied gravely, watching her.
“His Majesty would not dream of it in the like case,” she replied at
once, and with decision.
The czar glanced at her with surprise. “And why not, madame?” he asked
quickly.
Zénaïde looked at him calmly, her blue eyes as innocent as they were
steadfast.
“Because, your Majesty,” she replied in a clear voice, “Louis de
Bourbon is the first gentleman in France.”
The czar started as if she had struck him in the face, and the blood
rushed to his temples. I caught my breath. What will not a woman dare?
Yet her manner was perfect, her composure unruffled. For a moment I
anticipated an explosion, and thought that Peter would resent her
reply as a deadly insult; but he commanded his passion and made her a
profound bow.
“Madame has read me a lesson,” he said bluntly, “that I would not
accept from less beauty and merit, but sometimes it is well for a czar
to be reminded that he is a man and not infallible. Madame, I will not
be excelled in courtesy by the King of France; close your door and keep
your counsel, but convey to your fair prisoner that she is a subject
of Russia and must obey her sovereign. Let her return quietly to the
house of her uncle, or else she will answer for her disobedience. Even
the King of France, I think, compels his fair subjects to respect his
authority.”
“Nay, your Majesty,” Zénaïde replied calmly, “the king my master reigns
not by fear. A Frenchwoman is never a slave.”
“I have often regretted, madame, that your marriage made you a French
subject,” Peter rejoined, “but I perceive now that I am fortunate,
since you would have taught my whole petticoated tribe the principles
of sedition.”
Zénaïde smiled. “Your Majesty would not desire a mean-spirited flock
of women,” she said quietly, “all modelled in the mould of blind
acquiescence to one will.”
“I have no such good hope as that,” replied the czar, dryly; “since
the days of Eve, madame, your sex has been a source of trouble. It was
the apple of obstinacy that your ancestress ate, as well as that of
knowledge. But I request you to convey my message to Najine Zotof.”
“It will be my first duty, your Majesty,” she replied, “when I see
mademoiselle.”
He made her a mocking bow. “When you see her, madame,” he replied with
a cynical smile, and then, turning on his heel, he walked away through
the rooms, followed by M. de Lambert and me, but ignoring us both until
he reached the head of the stairs. At the foot I saw Pierrot with the
czar’s equerry looking up at us, and understood why Peter had come up
unannounced. He turned upon us with a return of his haughty manner, his
dark eyes on M. de Lambert’s face.
“As for you, young sir,” he said coldly, “you are too clever in the
gallantry of courts. France is your proper sphere, and pray do not
allow us to detain you here. I will direct the authorities to furnish
you with your passport.”
The young man bowed haughtily, his face flushed with anger and his eyes
returning the czar’s glance with a defiance equal to his own.
“I am beholden to your Majesty,” he said in a low voice. “Since I have
been here, I have had occasion to feel the need of a safe-conduct.”
Peter gave him a searching glance.
“You are pleased to speak in riddles, M. de Lambert,” he said sharply,
“but it is well that something has warned you to be cautious. We
Russians know how to resent idle interference with our affairs.”
M. de Lambert bit his lip, his face paling a little. “Your Majesty has
the advantage,” he said, folding his arms on his breast, “since we
cannot meet on terms of equality.”
Peter laughed harshly. “You are a true knight-errant, monsieur,” he
said mockingly. “You forget, though, that the arm of Peter Romanoff is
not so feeble that he could not do battle, even if he did not wear a
crown. Do not be a fool, young man, and waste breath in idle boasts.”
Then turning to me, “As for you, M. l’Ambassadeur,” he added bluntly,
“I leave it to your conscience if it is consistent with your honor
and the honor of France to conceal and aid a little rebel against her
master.”
“Your Majesty makes serious charges,” I replied with composure, “but I
trust that my honor and that of my country will remain untarnished.”
The czar was already on the stairs, but at my words turned and looked
at me. I was lighting the way, holding the taper over my head, and I
saw the gleam of amusement in his eyes.
“You are an old fox, Brousson,” he said gravely, “but remember that the
fox is no match for the lion, and you are treading on dangerous ground.”
We were at the door, and I stood aside to permit him to pass out, still
holding the taper between us.
“The fox is no match for the lion, your Majesty,” I admitted calmly,
“but neither is the lion a match for the turtle-dove.”
He had gone out in the dark, but turned, and, coming close to me at the
door, spoke so low that none could hear.
“M. de Brousson,” he said sternly, “I have yielded to-night from
courtesy to madame, but if that young man yonder takes one step to make
Najine his wife without my sanction, it will cost him his head, were
there forty kings of France instead of one!”