THE CZAR’S EQUERRY.
I WAS resting after my night of continued effort and anxiety when there
was another interruption. Pierrot came to me with a troubled face, and
announced the arrival of a messenger from the czar.
“He will take no gainsaying, monsieur,” he said; “I made a hundred
excuses, but he must see your Excellency at once.”
I rose from my couch with a sigh, and Pierrot helped me to dress.
“Imperial messengers are unfortunately always importunate,” I remarked
wearily; “and I have no doubt that this fellow has pressing business,”
I added with a smile.
Pierrot’s face changed a little, too, and I think he enjoyed the
situation.
“They had a fair start, monsieur,” he remarked quietly, “and M. de
Lambert knows how to carry matters through.”
I laughed. “In love affairs he is at least conspicuously successful,”
I said, “and he knows how to chastise a villain. How fared it with M.
Apraxin when you reached Mentchikof’s house?”
“He had recovered enough to curse us and groan, monsieur,” Pierrot
replied gravely; “he was badly bruised, I think, but he was also
furious.”
“Not more so than any man would have been in like case,” I said; “he
had been knocked about until there was but little breath left in him. A
miserable knave he is, too, and deserved it all. By the way, Pierrot,”
I added with a sudden resolution, “where is Prince Dolgoruky’s man
Tikhon? I had forgotten him.”
“I have him yet, monsieur,” Pierrot replied, with his usual
imperturbable calm; “he is below, in the ironed room, and I have seen
to his comfort.”
I laughed a little. “The rascal deserved punishment,” I said; “but
it seems to me that he has received a fair portion. You must let him
go, Pierrot; he can do no harm now, and a longer detention will only
increase the ill-will of the prince his master, and I have enough of
that already, without going on to accumulate it.”
“I will let him go immediately, M. le Vicomte,” Pierrot replied
quietly; “but I think he richly merited all he has received and more.
He is but a spy and a coward, in any case.”
“We must show mercy if we expect it, Pierrot,” I said gravely, “and
Tikhon will surely reap his own reward. A man who has no higher aim
than to be another’s spy and tale-bearer and hired assassin soon
finds his compensation. If he does not die by a pistol-shot or a
knife-thrust, he will presently get his head into a halter; therefore
let him go with a light heart.”
My toilet being now accomplished, I left my bedroom, and, walking
leisurely through the ante-rooms, entered the _salon_, where the
imperial messenger awaited me with great impatience. He was a young man
by the name of Shein, a relative of the Boyar Shein, whom I knew to be
close to the person of the czar; he was chafing under the delay which
on my part was intentional. He greeted me with the respect due to my
person, but came immediately to the substance of his errand.
“M. de Brousson,” he said, with an air of importance, “I am charged
with a message from his imperial Majesty the Czar, bidding M. de
Lambert, a gentleman of your suite, to be present at the palace this
morning by ten o’clock to receive certain instructions and commands
from his Majesty.”
I listened with a composure that ruffled the young fellow, who was
elated with the importance of his errand. Without immediately replying,
I seated myself in the great chair by the hearth, and, looking around
at him, allowed him to see that I was so little disturbed by the order
that I could take time to reflect upon my reply.
“Your master should have sent this message twelve hours ago,” I
remarked calmly. “His Majesty had impressed upon me his desire that
M. de Lambert should leave Moscow, and, acting solely from deference
to his wishes, I endeavored to fulfil his commands to the letter;
therefore this order is unhappily too tardy for me to respond to it
with the alacrity that I should desire to show to any command of the
czar.”
Shein looked at me anxiously. “Do you mean, M. le Vicomte, that the
bird has flown?” he asked eagerly.
“I should scarcely refer to M. de Lambert in that language,” I replied,
smiling; “but I do mean that he left Moscow in obedience to the czar’s
wishes.”
The young man looked thoroughly nonplussed and badly frightened. He saw
that they had been outwitted, and saw too, probably, the inevitable
consequences. Knowing so well Peter’s violent nature, I remarked
Shein’s open consternation with extreme amusement.
“He must come back immediately,” he exclaimed, assuming an air of
tremendous importance; “he can be overtaken. By which road did he
travel, monsieur? It behooves me to know, that I may obey the czar’s
orders, which are absolutely imperative and permit no evasion.”
I shrugged my shoulders, aware that my unshaken composure was
exasperating the boy beyond endurance.
“M. de Lambert is on the road to Versailles,” I replied, telling him
half the truth, and suppressing the other half with keen enjoyment of
the probable bewilderment of the pursuers. “You had best return to the
czar, M. Shein,” I added calmly, “for fuller instructions. Pursuit at
this late hour would be fruitless and foolish; I do not believe that
his Majesty would authorize it.”
The boy bit his lip, and frowned at me with a perplexed countenance.
He was not entirely convinced that I spoke the truth, and scarcely
knew what course to pursue. It was evident that he scarcely dared to
return to the czar with empty hands, and he fretted under my cool and
smiling glance. I was amused even while I felt it cruel to torment an
inexperienced youth; he stood in the middle of the room, fingering the
hilt of his sword and moving uneasily.
“Take my advice, M. Shein,” I said gravely: “return to his Majesty for
instructions. The loss of an hour can harm you but little, and many a
wiser man has met with disaster by running too wildly upon a thankless
errand. The royal mind is large, and grasps so many schemes that there
is constant shifting; the wind may set in another quarter by the time
that you return from a fruitless errand, and you will earn no thanks.
A wise man trims his sails to the breeze; take the advice of one who
has piloted through many a stormy sea at court: neither neglect your
instructions nor exceed them,--either course is dangerous. You are a
young man, M. Shein, be warned.”
He shot a glance at me of mingled anger and doubt, and it was manifest
that he began to waver in his original determination. There was no one
more uncertain in temper than Peter, and the young man saw evil results
on either hand. However, after a little hesitation he evidently decided
that nothing was gained by delay and turned to leave the room, but on
reaching the door, paused suddenly and addressed me.
“I was also instructed, M. l’Ambassadeur,” he said, “to inquire if
Najine Zotof was still under Madame de Brousson’s protection.”
I shook my head, smiling at the thought of my late interview with
Madame Zotof.
“Mademoiselle is no longer with us,” I replied with frankness; “she
left us at a late hour last night.”
“And is with her guardians?” he asked persistently.
“You must ask Madame Zotof,” I said calmly.
He flushed with anger at my indifference to his importance.
“I ask for his imperial Majesty,” he declared haughtily.
But I only continued to regard him with a smile. “I understand that,
M. Shein,” I replied composedly, “but I cannot perform miracles even
for the czar. I cannot produce mademoiselle when she is not with us;
neither can I tell you where she may be at this moment.”
He had his hand upon the door, but made me an obeisance.
“I have discharged my errand, your Excellency,” he said gravely, “and
shall return to the czar and report the result of my endeavors.”
“You will do well to do so before going on a thankless errand,
monsieur,” I replied cheerfully.
“I am not sure of the wisdom of that, M. l’Ambassadeur,” he retorted
tartly; “I only trust that it may not be my painful duty to return here
shortly with more stringent orders.”
There was a veiled threat in his words and look, and I rose from my
chair.
“You are young, M. Shein,” I said haughtily, “therefore I will treat
you with forbearance; but you forget that you address a marshal of
France.”
“And you forget also, M. l’Ambassadeur,” he replied, “that I am the
messenger of his Majesty the Czar of all the Russias.”
“On the contrary, I remember, young sir,” I said curtly, “else I should
scarcely have listened with such patience to your questions, which were
at once fruitless and impertinent.”
The young fellow flushed deeply, and I was half sorry that his
arrogance had merited such a rebuke, for I saw that he was burning for
that revenge which he could not obtain from my years and my rank.
“You have the advantage of me, M. le Vicomte,” he said gravely; “you
rejoice in personal impunity.”
“Pshaw!” I replied with more good-humor, “you should respect my years,
M. Shein. Go upon your errand, and remember that young men must endure
something before they learn the lessons of life.”
But my forbearance did not restore his good-humor, and he withdrew
with a flushed and angry face, which, however, only amused me, for he
was, after all, a harmless enough young man, and merely elated with
the importance of his errand and the imperial confidence; for those
close about the person of the czar felt for him an almost exaggerated
reverence and affection.
After Shein left me, I sat for some time reflecting on the
probabilities of M. de Lambert making good his escape; the chances were
all in his favor. It was true that he had only a few hours’ advantage,
for I knew that the Zotofs would lose no time, but I had taken pains
to mislead them, and they would probably start upon the road to
Versailles, while M. de Lambert and his bride were travelling rapidly
to Poland, and he had the additional advantage of having his passports
on his person. What had been intended as an insult would probably be
an assistance: such are the happy accidents of fate. I had arranged
that a message should be sent to me at the first stop for a change
of horses, and while I was thinking of the matter, Pierrot brought
me word that the men had arrived with a message from M. de Lambert.
They had reached the first post in safety and without pursuit; so far
all was well. The messenger had seen them start out with fresh horses
before leaving to bring the tidings; they had therefore the advantage
of several hours, and would probably outstrip all pursuit. These were
good tidings, and I felt that I had cause to rejoice, but knew that
I should presently have a second message from the czar which might
be of quite another character. In the mean time I received word from
Mentchikof that he desired to see me, and, knowing that this might mean
a fresh complication, I lost no time in obeying, rather glad of the
opportunity to be rid of his signet ring, which having served its turn
was becoming a burden to me. It was a bad day when I went out, and, the
wind striking my face, I lowered my head and hurried on unattended. The
streets were slippery, and more than once I nearly lost my footing,
but, at last reaching Mentchikof’s palace, I was glad to find the
warmth and glow of the fire in the great hall. Leaving my cloak below,
I went up the stairs and was at once admitted to the presence of the
favorite.