a bridge over a little stream, and stopped to watch the water tumbling
over the rocks at the bottom. Olga, leaning carelessly over the rail,
dropped sticks and pebbles into the water, and ended by dropping her
fan--a pretty thing of lace and ivory--after them. Of course we each
offered to save it, but, with a coquettish imperiousness, she ordered
General Klapka to the rescue. The General, highly gratified, tucked his
military chapeau under his arm, made his slippery way down the bank,
and, stepping cautiously upon the stones, reached out for the fan. In
vain; it was just a little beyond him.
"A little farther, General Klapka--only one step more," cried Olga
encouragingly.
"But mademoiselle, the rocks are wet, and--"
"Ah, Mademoiselle Olga, do not tempt General Klapka too far.--Beware of
another step, General Klapka!" cried Count Loris, maliciously.
Of course General Klapka took the other step, but it was of no use; a
mischievous eddy carried the fan still farther down.
"If you will accept of my services--" began Count Loris, turning to
Olga.
General Klapka raising himself to scowl at his impertinent rival,
just what all of us had foreseen happened; there was a plunge, a loud
splash, and he was floundering in the water. It was very shallow,
and he was on his feet in a moment, but Count Loris, with officious
politeness, rushed to his rescue, literally dragging him out,
completely drowning the general's angry assurances that he did not
need any assistance by protestations of regret and earnest inquiries
whether he had received any hurts. Meanwhile, Olga, standing on the
bank, anxiously fished for the general's hat, which she triumphantly
landed on the point of her pink parasol.
As soon as he was well out of the water, General Klapka sent one of his
young officers, who looked as crestfallen as himself, to order their
horses; but, in the little time that elapsed before his departure,
Mademoiselle Orviéff seemed determined, by her endless regrets and
apologies, not to let him forget his mishap, while, by a singular
process of feminine logic, she taxed Count Kourásoff with being the
sole cause of the accident. He, after all, had saved the fan, and bore
her reproaches with great coolness. When at last General Klapka, sulky
and discomfited, rode off Mademoiselle Olga and the count laughed at
him as if they would never tire, and seemed to think his misfortune a
source of boundless amusement; but I began to see that there were some
tragic elements in this comedy they were playing.
II.
About this time the Grand Duke Constantine was expected at Wilna, and
great preparations were made to receive him; but the revolutionary
placards which had appeared there, as in every other town in the
empire, became more numerous and audacious than ever. The police, as
the case has always been, showed their boasted efficiency by arresting
numbers of innocent persons, whom they were subsequently obliged to
release; but after every arrest the placards became more violent and
taunting. Several officers of the garrison, even, were arrested, but,
to my surprise, Vladimir Kourásoff was not among them. He had suddenly
grown prudent; but I can not say that this change in his conduct
inspired either his brother or myself with any great confidence. Of
one thing we were both assured, that Vladimir's rash and frivolous
character would prevent his being placed in any post of responsibility
by the revolutionary or any other party. Count Loris was deeply
attached to him, and Vladimir knew very well that his brother's means
and influence would be freely used to save him from the consequences of
his own wrong-doing.
On the morning of the Grand Duke's expected arrival the city was alive
with threatening cards posted on the walls of the university, the
arsenal, and other public buildings. Count Loris and myself paid a
visit that morning to Mademoiselle Orviéff, and then joined a throng
of eager and expectant spectators at the palace gates. Vladimir too,
was there, one of a brilliant group of officers who were to receive the
Grand Duke at the entrance to the palace. The crowd was excited, but
good-natured, and contained the usual mixture seen in Russia on such
occasions--priests, moujiks, ladies, beggars, and police--all loudly
talking about indifferent things, and below their breath discussing the
boldness of the placards.
"One was torn down in St. Stanislas Street at eight o'clock, and
before nine there were dozens like it posted all over the town--on the
Cathedral doors, over the Nikolas bridge, everywhere," said an officer
with whom I was conversing. As he spoke, I turned and saw Vladimir
Kourásoff listening to him with a conscious smile on his countenance.
At that moment a droschky appeared at the extremity of the long street
which the police kept clear for the imperial cortége. The horse dashed
furiously along, evidently running away, while the driver held on
desperately to the reins. On the narrow seat were two moujiks holding
on to each other, apparently drunk and unconscious of their danger.
They kissed each other and rubbed their beards together, as their
habit is in their convivial moods; but I suspected that they were
not drunk, and perhaps not even moujiks. One of them appeared to be
urging the already maddened horse still more. "Fly, my dushinka!"
("little darling") he cried, trying to clutch the reins from the
frightened driver. "Fly like wind and lightning to meet our good father
Constantine!"
His companion waved a box in his hand. "Fireworks! torpedoes!" he
bawled with a yell of drunken laughter, "for the good Duke Constantine!"
The horse, suddenly swerving from his straight course, dashed against
one of the iron pillars holding a cluster of lamps at the palace-gate.
There was a loud cry as the crash of the droschky and the explosion of
the box of fireworks occurred at the same moment, and, while every eye
except mine was apparently fixed on the spot, I saw Vladimir Kourásoff
lift up his hand and affix a placard to the wall and vanish in the
crowd. It was done in an instant of time.
As I saw it I walked off involuntarily in another direction, and when
I turned and looked back the throng that had lately been so noisy and
excited was staring in stupid amazement at the bit of paper securely
fastened to the wall.
My first impulse was to seek Count Loris: I felt that Vladimir's fate
was sealed--that in that vast multitude some one besides myself must
have seen him. I walked mechanically to the Nikolas bridge, and,
looking up, saw my friend approaching, and two men, not in uniform,
walking slowly and nonchalantly toward him, immediately in front of me.
We all four met in the middle of the bridge.
One of the strangers laid his hand lightly on the count's arm. "In the
name of the emperor," said he, "your sword."
Count Loris, with a cool smile, unbuckled his sword and handed it to
him. "I am now, and always, the faithful subject of the emperor's most
sacred Majesty," said he.
The man, who had hitherto remained silent, examining him carefully,
said: "He does not wear the uniform of Count Vladimir Kourásoff's
corps."
"That is easily accounted for," replied his companion: "he has a
brother who is in the Guards, and a change of uniform is a shallow
trick often resorted to."
"Come, my friends," said Count Loris, smiling pleasantly, "do not keep
a gentleman and a faithful officer standing here in this piercing wind."
"Come on, then," said one of his captors. "You have plenty of courage:
it is well, for you will need it all."
"Farewell, my friend!" said Count Loris, turning to me, and, still
smiling, walked off with the police officers.
III.
I went to Antokollo, to the house where we had spent so many happy
hours, feeling a kind of horror at being the bearer of such tidings.
The arrest of Count Kourásoff, in itself a dangerous thing, became
still more so when I reflected that he would be absolutely in the
power of General Klapka, who, as military governor, had charge of all
the state prisoners. As for Vladimir, I made no doubt that he would
improve this chance to save his precious self. It would be some hours,
and possibly some days, before it would be found out that they had not
captured the real culprit.
Mademoiselle Olga came in, looking gayer and more brilliant than usual.
When I told her of her lover's misfortune, this tender young creature
exhibited the utmost courage. But when I expressed my indignation at
Vladimir's conduct, she turned on me like a young lioness: he was
Count Kourásoff's brother, and how dare I so speak of him before
her? I hastily apologized and added one more to my list of the
incomprehensibilities in woman's nature. I offered, at any cost, to
carry the assurances of her faithfulness to Count Loris.
"He knows it better than you could tell him," she said, looking
scornfully at me. But with her woman's wit she devised a plan by which
I could communicate with my friend.
The next morning I presented myself at General Klapka's levée, and,
having obtained a few minutes alone with him, I gave him to understand
that I knew the state prisoner Kourásoff was Loris and not Vladimir,
and, explaining that I had an account which I wished to settle with the
former, I obtained permission to present it. General Klapka was ready
enough to believe me one of those summer friends who change as seasons
change, and the fact that a state prisoner could not alienate any of
his property did not make it the less annoying to have claims presented
to him.
General Klapka took me to a window, and, pointing significantly to the
fortress where the prisoners were confined, said: "I have a question to
ask of you. Now, if you attempt to deceive me, in less than twenty-four
hours you will have an apartment there."
I bowed silently.
"You are probably aware," he continued, "that I am deeply interested in
Mademoiselle Orviéff. Have you seen her since Kourásoff's arrest?"
"Yes," I replied; "I saw her immediately afterward."
"Did she express any fear for him or show any excitement?"
"Not in the least," said I.
"Did she endeavor to send any message to Kourásoff by you? Examine your
recollection carefully, or--"
"No," said I. "I told her I should try to see him: I candidly
acknowledge that I asked her if she had a message to send, and she
declined positively."
He stood gazing thoughtfully on the ground for a little while. "You may
go," he said at length. "Count Kourásoff has not at present any money
at his disposal"--he smiled as he spoke--"but you may get his promise
to pay your principal with interest--with good interest. And remember,
my friend, if you suspect that the prisoner is not Count Vladimir
Kourásoff, you will be careful not to speak of it: you will find it
best to observe my--requests."
The next day, and many days after, I presented myself at the outer
fort where Count Kourásoff was imprisoned, and, after having been duly
searched and found to carry nothing with me but a huge account-book
showing Count Kourásoff to be thousands of roubles in debt to me, I
was admitted to his narrow apartment, where we would sit at a little
table and figure and dispute by the hour. During these apparently
stormy interviews, when a great deal of information was conveyed to
him about Olga as well as public affairs, the sentry who walked up and
down before his open door cast many angry looks at me, and always
ushered me out with more haste than civility; for Count Loris had
managed to engage the affections of the soldiers who guarded him as
well as everybody else's. My parting assurance to him always was that
the mines of Siberia would claim him yet; to which he would respond by
saying that no misfortunes of his would benefit me or make him pay my
dishonest account.
He had another visitor besides myself. Day after day a priest, whom
I knew to be my friend at Ivánofka, but who was apparently fifty
years older than in the August before, appeared at General Klapka's
_levée_. He seemed so old as to be nearly imbecile; but with singular
persistence he came, always telling some endless tale of the wrongs
he had suffered at the hands of the Kourásoffs, and always demanding
to see the supposed Vladimir. At last, one day, in a mingled fit
of impatience and unusual good nature, General Klapka ordered him
to be admitted to Count Kourásoff, where he talked and mumbled so
incoherently that the count appeared unable to understand him and to be
quite worn out with him. However, he continued to come at intervals,
and his stupidity became a jest for the soldiers of the guard; but
Count Loris understood from his wandering talk the exact state of
affairs at Ivánofka during his absence.
Meanwhile the city was in a state of excitement difficult to describe.
The arrest of Count Vladimir Kourásoff, as was supposed, followed by
that of several other officers and members of families of distinction,
created a profound impression; but the Government seemed in no haste to
bring the prisoners to trial, and they were treated with extraordinary
leniency. There was great surprise manifested at the disappearance of
Count Loris Kourásoff; but General Klapka did not hesitate to say that
Count Loris knew enough of his brother's schemes to make his absence
convenient, if not necessary.
All this time General Klapka was more and more devoted to Mademoiselle
Orviéff. She treated him with an indifference that was not devoid of
coquetry, but he seemed under a spell. I once asked her if she felt
no stings of remorse when she remembered General Klapka's real and
disinterested affection, however ungenerous he might be. She gave me a
look that was meant to wither me. "If I would sacrifice myself and all
that I have or could hope for Loris Kourásoff, do you suppose I would
hesitate to sacrifice General Klapka too?" she said.
"I do not know," I answered dubiously. "Maria von Spreckeldsen
sacrificed me to Herr Sachs: I know _that_ much."
"Maria von Spreckeldsen!" she said contemptuously; and clasping her
hands behind her back, like a child saying a puzzling lesson, she
came and stood before me. "Do you mean to say--do you really mean to
say--that the sentiment between you and Maria von Spreckeldsen could be
called _love_?"
Now, I thought this was very unkind of Mademoiselle Olga, and showed
duplicity as well, for she had always professed the deepest sympathy
for me in regard to my Maria, and a profound belief in the depth of my
feelings.
"Come," said she, blushing, but straightening up her slim young figure,
"do you know that when one loves as--as--"
"As you love Count Kourásoff," I said.
She took his picture from about her neck and kissed it for answer.
"Very well, then; but men are so dense! You think that I love like
that tedious Maria; General Klapka thinks he can persuade me to love
him; while Count Loris thinks--I know not what. My heart is a mystery
to every one of you, and to myself as well. Look what General Klapka
brought me yesterday," she continued, producing from a cabinet a
picture of him, elaborately set in a small gold frame. She was clever
with her pencil and brush, and she had, with childish revenge, touched
it up so that the general, who was anything but handsome, looked even
uglier than Nature had made him.
I could not help laughing at the ludicrous effect, and, while she held
it off at arm's length, she made a contemptuous face at it, besides
several unflattering remarks; but she suddenly threw it down and burst
into sobs and tears; "I sometimes wonder that I can laugh, for my heart
always aches--always. I feel that Loris Kourásoff stands on the brink
of an awful fate. That wretch is capable of anything; he would have him
taken out and shot any morning that he discovered we still love each
other."
I tried to comfort her, but could not. I too felt a dreadful
uncertainty.
"You may tell Count Loris this for me," she said, drying her tears,
"that I long to see him, and if I can not see him by lawful means I
will see him by unlawful means. I will conspire."
I repeated this imprudent speech to my friend, who sent her in return a
stern command to put all thoughts of conspiring for her and for himself
out of her head. I found she had arranged in her mind a very plausible
plan, by which she was to penetrate to the interior of the fort, and,
taking his place, suffer him to escape; but this fine scheme was
brought to naught by the count's peremptory orders.
The weeks dragged slowly along. I had begun to feel even a sort of
security for my friend, when all at once a volcano burst beneath our
feet. One evening, on returning to the modest apartment in which I had
lived in Wilna since Count Kourásoff's imprisonment, I found awaiting
me a gentleman who politely informed me that my presence was required
at General Klapka's headquarters. I had little to fear for myself, but
I felt an alarm for those who were so dear to me; and I had lived long
enough in Russia to know that the military governor of a province can
ruin whom he will. I followed my companion with a composed countenance,
but a sinking heart. Upon reaching the barracks I was ushered into
a small room to await General Klapka's pleasure, my polite captor
remaining with me. To enliven my spirits, he dwelt upon the horrors of
exile.
"But, my friend," I replied, "exile does not now mean what it did in
the time of the Czar Peter. There are whole villages of prosperous
inhabitants in Siberia, priests, school-masters, clerks, Government
employés, all exiles, only the emperor prefers them to live in a
certain part of his dominions."
"Ah," said he, sighing and shaking his head, "they are those who
acknowledged their guilt and threw themselves on the mercy of the
emperor. For those who persisted in calling themselves innocent, the
mines--the railways--"
"But if I wished to call myself guilty, of what should I accuse myself?
Of trying to get a settlement of my affairs with Count Kourásoff?" This
view seemed to strike him so forcibly that he left me to my own sad
fancies.
The hours dragged on until nearly midnight, when I was awakened from a
heavy but troubled sleep before the stove by a messenger from General
Klapka commanding my presence. I followed my guide to a small anteroom,
where I saw the general at a table in an inner room, reading a
closely-written paper. He motioned me to enter, and, rising, carefully
closed the door after me. He was simply frightful in his anger. He
thrust the paper at me, and I began to read it; it was a minute account
of Vladimir Kourásoff's escape, of the true meaning of the visits
of the village priest and myself to Count Loris, of Olga Orviéff's
faithful devotion to him--even a copy of a few lines she had once
rashly conveyed to him.
While I was reading, he had taken his sword from the scabbard, and was
passing the naked blade through his fingers with a sort of murderous
delight. "I have you--the tool--and in a few minutes I shall have the
principal," was the only remark he made to me.
I seemed to have waited hours, when there was a sudden and peremptory
knock at the door. General Klapka rose and opened it immediately. Two
members of the police and a figure completely enveloped in a large
fur cloak stood outside. "Excellency, it was the prisoner who knocked
so loudly," began each of the police in a breath; but General Klapka,
motioning the prisoner to enter, abruptly closed the door.
The room was well lighted, and the person who entered, walking boldly
forward, dropped the cloak, and Olga Orviéff stood revealed. She
was in a brilliant ball-dress of pale and shining green, and pearls
gleamed softly on her milk-white neck and arms. She made a profound
and graceful courtesy to General Klapka, adroitly spreading out her
rich train as she did so. "I had not looked for the pleasure of seeing
General Klapka when only a few moments ago I was unexpectedly called
from the ball," she said with a certain grand air that she knew very
well how to assume; then, catching sight of me, she suddenly dropped
her stately manner. "You here, my friend?" she cried in a tone of
laughing familiarity. "Have you been conspiring too?"
"Mademoiselle Orviéff, allow _me_ to claim your attention first," said
General Klapka. I looked at her to see if his infuriated presence had
made any impression on her. If it had, it was only to arouse further
her fearless spirit. He was still nervously feeling the edge of his
sword. "You spoke just now of conspiring: conspiring may bring that
white neck of yours into jeopardy," said he, looking as if he would
like to try the blade on it.
She drew herself up and arched her proud neck. "Do _you_ threaten
_me_?" she said with cool scorn.
For answer he handed her with a low bow the paper I had read: "Read
that, and see if I need to threaten."
She raised it with an air at once careless and coquettish, and, after
reading a few lines, burst out laughing. "We are found out," she said,
turning to me, "and General Klapka is vexed, I see, because I sometimes
sent a tender message to my lover." When she said that, he made a
spring at her which caused me to jump from my chair; but, instead of
recoiling, she advanced two steps toward him, as he stood before her
panting and furious. "Yes," she said in a clear, high voice, "to Count
Loris Kourásoff."
"Mademoiselle, I implore you--" I began.
"What would you have me do?" she said, turning contemptuously to me.
"If I am in his power, will anything avail me now? and if I am not in
his power, let me say what I please."
"Yes, say what you please," said General Klapka in an intense voice:
"it will only bring his destruction a little nearer. If Count--if
that--"
"Do not dare to speak Count Kourásoff's name before me!" she cried.
If a man like General Klapka could be cowed by anything, he might
be said to have quailed under her voice and presence; she spoke
distinctly, and raised her little hand as she advanced nearer him. She
stopped abruptly and fanned herself. "Really," she said, "I am losing
my temper. You, General Klapka, appear to have lost yours before I
came."
"Do you know, Mademoiselle Orviéff, what it is to be secretly
communicating with a state prisoner?" said General Klapka, recovering
his coolness a little.
"And do you know what it is, General Klapka, to have the discipline of
the garrison so lax that a state prisoner can be communicated with,
even visited, by his friends and," laughing and nodding her head at me,
"his accomplices."
General Klapka could only grind his teeth and mutter, "Communicating
with a state prisoner."
"If I could have obtained Count Kourásoff's consent," she continued,
casting down her eyes modestly, "I could have entered the fortress, and
with the aid of my friend the village priest have actually married the
man I love. I wish I had!" she added, suddenly raising her eyes and
opening them wide and bright.
If her object was to exasperate him still further, she was succeeding
admirably, while he had not been able to intimidate her in the least
degree. "Count Loris Kourásoff's life may pay for that wish," he said.
"You forget," she replied: "Count Kourásoff is only under arrest until
his identity is established."
"Let him be brought to trial," said he, "and for a thousand rubles I
can prove him to be Vladimir Kourásoff. You know what the moujiks say:
'Money can buy vengeance.'"
She turned slightly pale, and he seemed to gloat over this her first
sign of discomfiture, when at that moment there was a loud commotion
in the outer apartment and a vehement knock at the door. "Open! open!"
cried a dozen eager voices.
When General Klapka opened the door, Vladimir Kourásoff walked in. He
was haggard and unshorn--a piteous contrast to the handsome and dashing
officer he had once been. "I surrender myself," said he to General
Klapka. "I am Count Vladimir Kourásoff. I was in Geneva, safe, when I
heard of my brother's arrest. I could not but come back." There was a
deep pause. Vladimir continued in a collected manner: "I expected to
find my brother exiled at the very least, but when I heard that he was
still imprisoned here I communicated with some of his friends in St.
Petersburg, who brought the matter before the emperor, and they have
his personal guaranty that if I surrender myself my brother shall be
immediately released."