A DUEL WITH SWORDS.
MENTCHIKOF lost no time in executing the czar’s order, and signaled to
me to follow him as he left the _salon_. I made my way out as rapidly
and quietly as I could, and reached the ante-room in time to find him
transmitting the order to one of the guard.
“M. de Brousson will accompany you,” he said to the officer as I
entered; and then, calling me aside, he added: “Make what haste you
can, the czar’s mood may change. He yielded because of the peculiarity
of his position, and Najine Zotof’s appeal before so many touched his
pride, but he may repent his order at any moment. Get the young man out
of the country, and also the young woman.”
“I see the wisdom of your advice, monsieur,” I replied; “but the last
is not so easy.”
“I know it, M. de Brousson,” he said in a low voice; “but I tell you
that the imperial mood is tempestuous, and--in a word--he loves Najine.”
“I see that,” I admitted gravely, “but the matter is difficult;
nevertheless, with your aid, I will do what I can.”
He walked with me to the stairs, and then, pausing, laid his hand upon
my arm and looked into my face with those keen eyes full of quiet
meaning.
“Marriage, M. l’Ambassadeur,” he said in a low tone, “speedy and secret
marriage, is possible, and it alone will cut the knot.”
We were practically alone; a few attendants were below, at the foot of
the stairs, and three or four guards lingered in the corridor observing
us with curious eyes, but no one could overhear our conversation. I
looked at the favorite searchingly.
“And the risk to mademoiselle?” I said slowly.
He snapped his fingers. “It would not amount to that!” he replied.
“His Majesty will forgive her--after a while; but for the present,” he
laughed, “a pair of fleet horses, monsieur; I will look well to the
pursuers and the pursuit.”
He took a signet ring from his finger, and placed it in my hand.
“I trust it to your honor, M. le Maréchal,” he said significantly; “use
it, whenever the name of Alexander Mentchikof may speed your errand,
and remember that the imperial mood will change.”
And with this caution he parted from me, and I went out into the night
attended by Pierrot and the captain of the guard. We turned our steps
immediately toward the Kremlin, walking rapidly and in silence. I did
not need Mentchikof’s assurance to convince me that there was no time
to lose. I had read the czar’s mood almost as easily as the favorite,
and knew that he was unwilling to betray to the whole court that he,
the czar, was jealous of a young French soldier with no fortune but his
sword and the favor of the King of France. That Peter was intensely
angry at Najine’s open avowal of her loyalty to her lover was manifest
enough, and I did not doubt his speedy repentance of his consent to
release his prisoner. Meanwhile I had the order which would give M. de
Lambert freedom, and a few hours in which to get him out of the city;
but how to accomplish this was not so clear unless I found him in a
more yielding mood than usual, or I could prevail upon mademoiselle to
facilitate matters. I trusted to Madame de Brousson’s wit and courage
to bring Najine safely away from Mentchikof’s house, but how long she
could evade Madame Zotof was another question. I hoped much from the
fact that Najine would find her position so difficult that it would be
more simple to follow Mentchikof’s suggestion than to face her uncle’s
displeasure. The favorite’s signet was on my finger, and I reflected
that he had shown more confidence in me than I felt in him, for I was
doubtful of following his advice.
When we reached the Kremlin, the imperial officer took the lead and
conducted us to the Miracle Monastery; here we were admitted to the
refectory, and Pierrot and I were left while the soldier had a long
private conference with a gentleman of the imperial household, and
finally departed with him, requesting us to remain there half an hour.
Impatient as I was, I had no choice but to await his return, and
occupied the time with some reflections upon the folly of taking a
young gallant on a diplomatic errand, and resolving that I would never
again find myself in so unhappy a position,--for I resented the covert
affront to France without seeing any way to avenge it. M. de Lambert
had been guilty of rash indifference to the imperial amour, and I could
scarcely expect the czar to respect his person as a member of a French
embassy. My meditations were interrupted by Pierrot, who had been
trying all the doors to reassure himself as to their intentions towards
us.
“Do you think they will return, monsieur?” he asked significantly.
“I think so, Pierrot,” I replied dryly; “one can never be sure, but I
do not think there were any instructions except those that were given
in my presence.”
He shook his head gravely. “They have been gone some time,” he
remarked, and looked at me with manifest doubt of the wisdom of a
longer wait upon their pleasure.
But at this moment we heard steps without, and the officer throwing
open the door entered, followed by Guillaume de Lambert, whose face
looked pale and haggard with anxiety, but lighted up at the sight
of us, and he met me with an exclamation of joy. I was too anxious,
however, to get him out to waste time on words, and, thanking the
officer for his services, I hurried M. de Lambert off, and it was not
until we were in the street that I permitted him to speak.
“This has been an outrage,” he exclaimed fiercely; “I have been mewed
up and half starved in a regular dungeon, and I believe that they had
designs on my life.”
“So we have been told,” I replied dryly; “but it seems to me, M. de
Lambert, that you have been to blame. You walked into the snare all too
easily, and mademoiselle has won your freedom at the cost of a personal
appeal to the czar.”
He stopped short. “Mademoiselle?” he said in a tone of wonder; “she is
at Troïtsa.”
“Pardon me, monsieur,” I returned quietly, “she is in Moscow. Tidings
travel rapidly, and she was informed of your misfortune, and came--on
the wings of love, and her personal appeal to Peter obtained the order
for your release.”
“Alas!” he exclaimed, “I am unfortunate, since it is I, after all, who
brought her back to the czar. I would rather be deprived of my liberty
than purchase it at such a price.”
“You are a thankless man,” I said; “few could have had so lovely a
woman to plead for them. Now that you have your liberty, you must make
good use of it;” and I told him briefly of the perils of the situation
and the possibilities of evading the czar.
Mentchikof’s proposal of a speedy marriage met with instant approval,
as I had anticipated, and he was all impatience to urge it upon
Najine. In a few words he told me of his capture, which fitted in with
Apraxin’s story of it, and he gave a clear view of the discomforts of
a Russian prison; yet he had been treated with tolerable moderation
although in solitary confinement. His worst fear had been of an attempt
to poison him, since he had not anticipated any actual violence on
account of his nationality. On the whole, the rumors which had reached
Madame de Brousson and Najine had evidently been exaggerated; but he
had had but little food, and had been kept in rigid imprisonment, which
would have speedily accomplished the work without the aid of more open
measures.
As we approached my lodgings, we both scanned them eagerly for
indications of Madame de Brousson’s return; but when we reached the
door, found that she was still absent, and there was nothing to do but
wait. We entered one of the lower rooms, and Pierrot went at once for
food and wine for our returned prisoner, while I laid aside my cloak
and sword and sat down by the fire. M. de Lambert was still standing by
the table, when the outer door was suddenly opened, without a summons,
and we heard a quick step in the hall, and in a moment Apraxin rushed
into the room and confronted M. de Lambert. I looked at the intruder in
amazement; he was without hat or cloak, and his disordered dress told
of a recent struggle, and he carried a naked sword in his hand. How had
he escaped the guards? He looked at M. Guillaume with furious eyes.
“So!” he exclaimed, “I find you at last! You have evaded me and baffled
me at every turn, but you shall fight me now.”
M. de Lambert gave him a cold glance, measuring him with a contemptuous
face.
“I do not fight with assassins and traitors,” he replied with cutting
scorn.
Apraxin took a step forward, and struck at his face with his open hand.
“You are a coward!” he exclaimed.
M. de Lambert caught him by the throat and flung him back against the
wall with a force that made his sword fly from his hand; then Guillaume
folded his arms upon his breast and looked at him with a smile.
“If you need further chastisement,” he said coldly, “you can have it.”
Apraxin had recovered himself, and, picking up his sword, made a
desperate lunge at his antagonist, and I sprang to my feet.
“We have had enough of this,” I exclaimed; but M. de Lambert had taken
my sword from the table.
“Nay, M. le Maréchal,” he said, “permit me to settle with this fool;”
and he parried another blow that Apraxin aimed at him.
I stood and looked on. M. de Lambert was an expert swordsman, and
I saw that Apraxin was no contemptible adversary; but he was wild
with jealousy and passion, and attacked his antagonist with blind
fury, while M. Guillaume was cool, and, although he had felt his
imprisonment, his nerve was steady. Apraxin made fierce thrusts and
quick blows, while M. de Lambert was graceful, dexterous, wary. They
were nearly matched in height. The Frenchman had the greater breadth of
shoulder and depth of chest; the Russian was more lithe and cat-like
in his motions. Guillaume was fair, with light brown locks, wildly
dishevelled, for his powdered peruke had fallen off; Apraxin’s face was
white, and his hair blue black, and there was eager hatred in the tense
expression of his features. He began the fight with furious eagerness;
then, finding his antagonist composed and fearfully skilful at fencing,
he began to husband his strength and watch for an opportunity to strike
under M. de Lambert’s guard. He was a good swordsman and used the point
to advantage, but he was unsteady with passion, and I saw the wrist
falter more than once when he tried to drive a blow home; and while
Guillaume was still collected, the beads of perspiration gathered thick
on his assailant’s brow, and I saw his eyes dilate and his nostrils
stretch and quiver as he labored for breath. M. de Lambert was on the
defensive, parrying the other’s eager blows and watching him with an
unfaltering eye until the Russian began to waver and struck wildly.
So hot grew the fight that their swords flashed in a circle of light
and I could scarcely follow their play. Suddenly Apraxin made a mad
lunge at his antagonist’s heart, and M. de Lambert, parrying it with a
quick movement, gave him a blow that stretched him on the floor. But
he sprang up like a tiger, and flew at his adversary’s throat; for a
moment they grappled and wrestled, then M. de Lambert, lifting him from
his feet, threw him the third time and knelt upon his breast.
“The fellow is mad,” Guillaume said, his own breath coming short, for
the struggle though brief had been fierce.
The last fall was severe, and Apraxin had lost consciousness, and after
a glance at him M. de Lambert rose and threw water on his face.
“I hope I have not killed the fool,” he said gravely; “he fought like a
demon.”
I joined him, and together we made some efforts to revive him, but with
poor success; he had struck the back of his head and lay quite still.
“This is unfortunate,” I remarked thoughtfully; “we do not want him
here. He must have escaped from Mentchikof, and to Mentchikof he must
be returned.”
I stood reflecting upon a proper course of action, and was relieved
to see signs of returning animation in the fellow. At this instant
Pierrot announced that the carriage had come with Madame de Brousson
and mademoiselle, and a plan flashed upon me.
“Go out to meet them, M. de Lambert,” I said at once, “and say nothing
of this. I will send Apraxin back to Mentchikof in the carriage with
Pierrot and Touchet; there is no other way of evading unpleasant
consequences. Happily, your chastisement was so thorough that he is not
likely to want another.”
There was no need for more words, for M. de Lambert went out to meet
Najine, and Pierrot helped me to raise Apraxin. As soon as we heard
madame and mademoiselle pass on up the stairs, we called Touchet, and
we three managed to place the half-conscious youth in the carriage,
and I despatched them to Mentchikof with strict injunctions to convey
the prisoner into the house in a secret manner and explain the matter
to Mentchikof alone and so relieve me of the embarrassment of this
troublesome boy. I could trust their devotion, and watched the carriage
roll away in the darkness with a sigh of relief.
I was out of one difficulty, but there was another in the upper
room, and a far more delicate one, since there was a woman in it, and
that woman young, beautiful, spirited, and ill to guide; was ever
man in more perplexing situation? I looked up at the skies, which
were clouded, and I sighed; truly, the annoyances of life are many. I
entered the house and, barring the door, walked slowly and thoughtfully
up the stairs. It rested with me to get M. de Lambert away; to rescue
mademoiselle’s happiness; to outwit Zotof; and, last not least, to
defeat, disappoint, and baffle the czar! What were my weapons? Najine’s
love for Guillaume de Lambert, his devoted courage, my own wit, and
Mentchikof’s signet ring.