THE MARRIAGE OF THE DWARFS.
I RODE toward the Kremlin with a heavy heart; the perplexity and perils
of my position were increased a hundredfold. My distance from my own
government and my comparative isolation in Moscow made a demand for
justice not only difficult but practically futile. The czar had no
right to imprison arbitrarily one of my suite, but how absurd was it
to talk of privileges to the autocrat of all the Russias! It was well
enough to carry matters with a high hand and threaten the wrath of
the King of France while M. de Lambert was a free man, but the _coup
d’état_ was accomplished; he was actually in a Russian prison, and
might easily starve there before aid could come from Versailles. What
folly had led him into the trap? What madness on his part had prompted
this sudden seizure? Not only did I find these questions difficult
to answer, but I found it difficult, too, to hit upon a plan of
action. Never was man in more unfortunate position,--responsible for
a delicate mission to the king my master; responsible for a reckless
young soldier; responsible for the honor and dignity of my country,
and dealing with a man of violent passions, for the czar was a volcano
ready to breathe smoke and fire at a moment’s provocation. And how
could I approach him now? Should I assume ignorance, and appeal to him
to aid me in my search for M. de Lambert, or should I boldly proclaim
my knowledge of the imprisonment and demand justice in the name of
the King of France? I checked my horse and rode slowly to give myself
time for thought. On the whole, I reflected that feigned ignorance
would suit my purpose best, since defiance could scarcely help me and
might deeply incense the czar. There was one chance in a hundred for
the young man’s release, and that was a slender one. I fancied that
he would be offered an alternative; renunciation of mademoiselle or
imprisonment, perhaps worse, if Peter dared to offer a deeper injury
to a soldier of France. Knowing the czar as I did, I doubted his
hesitation at anything, especially where his personal feelings were
involved, and I no longer doubted his love for Najine. How tangled is
the skein of our existence! Here was a young girl, simple, beautiful,
innocent, holding in her hand the knot of an emperor’s destiny, and by
that accident of fate, involving so many other lives in the meshes.
Here were love and hate, malice and revenge, secret treason and
attempted assassination interwoven by the accident of one man’s fancy,
simply because that he was royal.
Slow as had been the latter part of my journey, it was accomplished
in spite of my reflections, and I found myself at the entrance of the
palace. My dress was somewhat disordered by hard riding, but I made no
attempt to adjust it, for it seemed to me that my appearance would be
one evidence of the urgency of my errand. Entering the ante-room, I
requested an audience of the czar. The chamberlain hesitated at first,
saying that his Majesty was present at a marriage and would scarcely
permit an interruption; but, hearing that my business was imperative,
he consented to be the bearer of my petition, and, departing on his
errand, left me for half an hour to my own reflections. I suspected
that Peter was not anxious to receive me, and speculated not a little
on the possibilities of the approaching interview, although all the
time full of anxiety for M. de Lambert, knowing something of the
treatment that he was likely to receive. After my patience was nearly
exhausted, the chamberlain returned and informed me that it was the
czar’s pleasure that I should be conducted to his presence. I followed
the Russian, expecting a private audience; but instead of turning
towards the czar’s own apartments, he led me through a low narrow
passage to one of the large halls. We entered by a small door at the
lower end, and I paused a moment on the threshold, regarding the scene
with considerable astonishment. It was a splendid _salon_, barbaric
in its gorgeous colors, which made a background for a fantastic
painted decoration of palm-leaves and flowers, and it was spanned by
glittering arches supporting the vaulted roof, and was lighted by a
thousand tapers. In seats and upon cushions, arranged close against
the four walls, reclined the gayest courtiers, the wild coterie that
constituted Peter’s intimate circle of revellers. The center of the
room was occupied by a crowd of dwarfs, of both sexes, some hideously
and grotesquely deformed. They were in charge of a dwarf marshal who
had eight assistants, all arrayed in gay uniform, bedizened with
tinsel, and they were executing one of their weird dances, while at the
upper end of the apartment, leaning back in his chair with a gloomy
face, was the czar. After a moment’s observation, I understood the
scene: there had been a marriage; two dwarfs had amused the audience
by the mockery of such a wedding. Those unhappy little creatures
were kept about the Russian court, its playthings and the objects of
many a grim jest; the spies and eavesdroppers of rival factions; the
tools and the dupes of the gay and the wicked; intimate with every
intrigue, masters of every secret, and often dangerous in their hatred,
as such misshapen creatures are likely to be; full of malice and all
unkindness, betraying and betrayed; the most pitiful and the most
miserable objects of that brilliant assemblage, and yet reckoned to be
one of its sources of amusement; ministering now to the gloomy temper
of a master whose evil spirit was upon him, for I saw, at a glance,
that Peter was suffering from one of those seasons of depression that
came over him like a cloud, and suggested an abnormal condition of mind
in a man usually so forceful and full of easy good-humor, with all his
violent passions. A great soul is isolated, and as the tempests sweep
around the mountain’s loftiest peak, so also must storm and terror
sweep sometimes over the spirit that has been set amid the rulers of
the earth. As the dark hour came upon Saul, so also did it come upon
the greatest Romanoff. He sat, shading his face with his hand, his
eyes fixed gloomily on the dwarfs; two of the little creatures, gifted
with singular beauty, were sitting at his feet, while the others had
begun a country-dance, called by the Germans _Grossvater_, which Peter
himself had learned when in his merry mood in the German quarter; but
to-night no music could charm him into the mazes of the dance, and the
revelry was subdued, for the courtier is quick to take his cue from
the imperial temper. In the circle immediately about the czar, I saw
Dolgoruky and Sheremetief, and, to my relief, at a little distance
was Mentchikof. I was standing with the full length of the _salon_
between myself and the imperial party, and was scarcely noticed by
the gay young nobles near me, except when one or two turned to stare
at my plain riding-suit and at the mud upon my boots. The chamberlain
who had brought me made his way slowly to the upper end of the
apartment, and announced my presence to his Majesty. I was watching
Peter narrowly, and saw him glance at the man with a frown, his face
almost instantly convulsed by that _tic_ which made his features, for
the moment, terrible. He spoke a few words to the chamberlain, who
withdrew a little way and waited while the czar turned his attention
again to the dancers and I stood unnoticed by the door. I began to
chafe under this treatment, for not only did it suggest delay, but it
might indicate a possible affront to me as an ambassador, for Peter
had openly called me an envoy of France, and, although I as openly
disclaimed it, the position was awkward. If I resented the neglect,
I would double and treble the difficulties of my situation and of
M. de Lambert’s. However, at the end of a quarter of an hour the
chamberlain returned to guide me through the throng to the czar. The
dancing had ceased, and the courtiers mingled with the dwarfs while the
wine flowed freely. It was difficult to walk through the crowded room
without being rudely jostled, and once I nearly stumbled over a dwarf
who was scrambling about on the floor after a jewel that had fallen
from some chain. Peter was talking earnestly to Sheremetief, but as I
approached, he dismissed those immediately about him, and received me
almost alone,--for the babel of tongues made it impossible to overhear
a conversation carried on in a low tone. The expression of the czar’s
face was still gloomy, and he greeted me with a certain hauteur that
suggested a remembrance of our last meeting and his defeat at the hands
of my wife. He measured me from head to foot, apparently noting every
detail of my disordered dress and the pistols at my belt.
“You are welcome, M. l’Ambassadeur,” he said deliberately, “although
you come booted and spurred and armed grimly for so festive an
occasion.”
“I crave your Majesty’s pardon,” I replied; “the urgency of my errand
must be my apology for this untimely and unseemly appearance.”
He looked at me with well-feigned surprise.
“Your errand is urgent, then, sir,” he remarked coolly; “in that case
this is scarcely the time or place for it. However, the sooner it is
heard, the sooner it is over.”
“Your Majesty’s permission is scarcely as gracious as I hoped to
receive,” I said coldly, “but I am compelled to trespass upon your
patience. One of my suite, M. de Lambert, has been missing since early
morning, and all my efforts to discover him have been unavailing. I
received his passports and intended to act upon them, in accordance
with your Majesty’s wishes; but he almost immediately disappeared, and
I fear that he has met with foul play.”
Peter listened to me with close attention, not by the movement
of a muscle betraying any feeling upon the subject, and his dark
eyes searching my face, which I strove to render as immovable and
inscrutable as his own.
“This young man, M. de Lambert,” he said slowly, “is, I hear, something
of a wild gallant; therefore, M. le Vicomte, it seems to my poor
judgment that you make too much of a trifle. He is, doubtless, absent
on some business of his own, and will shortly reappear. I see no reason
for your apprehension of foul play.”
“Unhappily, your Majesty,” I replied boldly, “there are but too good
grounds for such apprehensions. He has but lately recovered from a
wound dealt by the hand of an assassin.”
The czar started slightly; it was apparent that he was ignorant of this
occurrence.
“It seems strange, M. l’Ambassadeur,” he said, “that an assassin should
attack one of your suite and you make no complaint to the authorities
or to me.”
“M. de Lambert was not seriously injured, your Majesty,” I replied
quietly, “and I did not desire to accuse a member of a family near your
person.”
“Speak plainly, M. de Brousson,” Peter exclaimed; “who was the man?”
I knew that I was treading on delicate ground, but I delivered my blow
calmly. “It was Yury Apraxin, the protégé of M. Zotof,” I said with
deliberation.
The czar flushed a deep red, and for an instant his eyes shot fire. He
recalled the scene at Mentchikof’s house, and for a moment, I believe,
thought that I intended to insult him; then he controlled his passion
and leaned towards me, clenching the arms of his chair with a grip that
made the cords stand out upon his hands.
“What quarrel had he with M. de Lambert?” he asked in a low voice, but
with an emphasis that was ominous.
I had assumed an air of innocence and candor. I looked straight back
into his passionate eyes, which were like those of the untamed king of
beasts.
“M. de Lambert has deeply admired M. Zotof’s beautiful niece, doing
homage to her beauty and purity, as we all do, your Majesty,” I replied
easily; “and M. Apraxin, having been betrothed to mademoiselle,
resented M. de Lambert’s admiration for his _fiancée_.”
The czar’s brow grew like a thunder-cloud; he knew nothing of Apraxin’s
early betrothal, and I began to enjoy the situation keenly. He uttered
a fierce exclamation, and I saw his lips twitch.
“Najine Zotof betrothed!” he said under his breath, and then added:
“Upon my soul, M. l’Ambassadeur, I thank you for your tidings. It
seems that my own people do not often speak truth to me. Apraxin--the
marplot boy! Did your friend run him through for his pains?”
“No, your Majesty,” I replied quietly; “my man ran to M. de Lambert’s
aid, and Apraxin fled like a caitiff.”
“Two Frenchmen, and yet he was not killed!” the czar exclaimed
furiously; “where were their swords?”
“The night was dark, your Majesty, the ground slippery, and Frenchmen
are not used to fight foes who strike in the back,” I said coolly.
Peter bit his lip. “You may bless your fortune that you are a
foreigner, M. de Brousson,” he exclaimed with passion; “I have borne
much from you. If you had been my subject, I would have had your head
long since.”
“That belongs to the King of France,” I replied with composure, “and I
trust it to your Majesty’s generosity.”
“The king my brother has to thank my forbearance that you carry it back
to him,” he retorted tartly. “You are an old fox, M. l’Ambassadeur; but
you always carry matters with a high hand.”
“Your Majesty compliments my wit too much,” I replied courteously; “but
I crave now your permission to prosecute a thorough search for M. de
Lambert.”
The czar made a gesture of impatience. “I am tired of the name,” he
exclaimed; “prosecute your search by all means, and let me hear no more
of him. He has his passports, let him use them; Moscow is no place for
him.”
“Will your Majesty order one of your officers to furnish me with the
means to continue my search?” I asked, pressing my point.
The czar frowned, and I saw that he hesitated. No doubt, well aware
of M. de Lambert’s arrest, he found himself in an awkward situation.
However, he called an attendant, and, scribbling a few lines on a
paper, despatched him, and then turned to me. He had risen from his
chair and stood there, among the gay costumes of his court, a massive
figure in the uniform of a German ship-captain, without an ornament or
an order.
“You will find an officer with the proper credentials at your disposal
in the ante-room, M. l’Ambassadeur,” he said curtly; “use what speed
you may. Find this Frenchman and send him across the border, or it may
be necessary for me to hasten his departure;” and with these words he
turned his back upon me, and, walking through the throng of dwarfs, who
fell back at his approach until he had a wide path across the _salon_,
he passed out and closed the door. A chill fell upon the assemblage,
and men stared at me as if I were some ill-omened visitor. I found
myself the center of observation as I made my way to the entrance by
which I had come, and went out unaccosted by any one, which made me
suspect that the court knew something of the seizure of my friend,
and that there was peril. I was not reassured, and had accomplished
nothing. I hurried through the ante-rooms to the farther one, where I
found an officer of the Preobrazhensky regiment waiting for me, and,
for a moment, thought that foul play was intended; but he addressed me
with deference and showed his orders to obey my instructions. We went
out together, and began a tedious and of course fruitless search for
M. de Lambert. It was an easy matter for the imperial officer to take
me to every spot but the right one, and I felt that I would have given
much to read the lines that the czar had scribbled upon that slip of
paper. A weary search it was, from place to place; the Russian always
courteous, inscrutable, unruffled, and ignorant--as only a man can be
whose business it is to be sublimely stupid.