THE PRISONER OF ZOSTROV
The castle stood within a great quadrangle, which we entered through a
massive stone gateway guarded by two sentries. Two more were stationed
at the top of a steep and wide marble stairway that led up to the
entrance hall, and the whole place seemed swarming with soldiers, and
servants in handsome liveries. A couple of grooms came to hold our
horses, and a third took possession of my valise, containing chiefly a
dress suit and some shirts. My other belongings were coming on in the
wagon.
Mishka's manner underwent a decided change from the moment we entered
the castle precincts. The bluff and often grumpy air of familiarity was
gone, and in its place was the surly deference with which he had treated
me at first. As we neared the end of our journey, he had once more
warned me to be on my guard, and remember that I must appear as an utter
stranger to the Duke and all about him, except Mishka himself.
"You have never been in Russia before," he repeated. "And you speak only
a few words of Russian, which I have taught you on our way. That will
matter little, since most here speak French and German."
He parted from me with a deferential salute, after handing me over to
the care of a gorgeously attired functionary, whom I found to be a kind
of majordomo or house steward. This imposing person welcomed me very
courteously; and I gathered that I was supposed to be a new addition to
the Grand Duke's suite. I had rather wondered on what footing I should
be received here, especially since Mishka's remark, a while back, about
the "prisoner." But some one--Loris himself or Mishka, or both of
them--had planned things perfectly, and I am sure that no one beyond
ourselves and the elder Pavloff, who was also in the secret, had the
slightest suspicion that I was other than I appeared to be.
My new acquaintance himself conducted me to the rooms prepared for
me,--a spacious bedroom and sitting-room, with plain, massive furniture,
including a big bookcase that occupied the whole of an alcove between
the great Russian stove and the outer wall. Facing this was a door
leading to a smaller dressing and bath room, where the lackey who had
carried up my valise was in waiting.
"This Nicolai will be in attendance on you; he speaks German," my
courteous guide informed me in French. "He will bring you all you need;
you have only to give him orders. You will dine at the officers' mess,
and after dinner his Highness will give you audience."
"Does Monsieur Pavloff--the land steward--live in the castle?" I asked,
thinking it wise to emphasize my assumed role. "I understand that I'll
have to work with him."
"No; his house is some two versts distant. But he is often in attendance
here, naturally. Perhaps you will see him to-night; if not, without
doubt, you will meet him to-morrow. Nicolai awaits your orders, and your
keys."
He bowed ceremoniously, and took himself off.
That Nicolai was a smart fellow. He already had the bath prepared,--I
must have looked as if I wanted one,--and when I gave him the key of my
bag, he laid out my clothes with the quick deftness of a well-trained
valet.
I told him I shouldn't want him any more at present, but when I had
bathed and changed, I found him still hovering around in the next room.
He had set a tea-table, on which the silver samovar was hissing
invitingly. He wanted to stay and wait on me, but I wouldn't have that.
Smart and attentive as he was, he got on my nerves, and I felt I'd
rather be alone. So I dismissed him, and, in obedience to some instinct
I didn't try to analyze, crossed the room softly, and locked the door
through which he had passed.
I had scarcely seated myself, and poured out a glass of delicious
Russian tea,--which is as wine to water compared with the crude
beverage, diluted with cream, which Americans and western Europeans call
tea,--when I heard a queer little sound behind me. I glanced back, and
saw that one section of the big bookcase had moved forward slightly.
With my right hand gripping the revolver that I had transferred from my
travelling suit to the hip pocket of my evening clothes, I crossed
swiftly to the alcove, just as some three feet of the shelves swung
bodily inwards, revealing a doorway behind, in which stood none other
than Mishka.
"The fool has gone; but is the outer door locked?" he asked in a
cautious undertone.
"Yes," I answered, noticing as I spoke that he stood at the top of a
narrow spiral staircase.
"That is well. Approach, Highness; all is safe," he whispered down the
darkness behind him, and flattened himself against the narrow wall
space, as a second figure came into sight,--the Grand Duke Loris
himself, who greeted me with outstretched hand.
"I do not care for this sort of thing,--this elaborate secrecy, Mr.
Wynn," he said softly in English. "But unfortunately it is necessary.
Let us go through to your dressing-room. There it is less likely that we
can be overheard."
I followed him in silence. He sat himself down on the wide marble edge
of the bath, and looked at me, as I stood before him, as though his
brilliant blue eyes would read my very soul.
"So you have come; as I thought you would. And you are very welcome. But
why have you come?"
"Because I hope to serve your Highness, and--she whom we both love," I
answered promptly.
"Yes, I was sure of that, although we have met only twice or thrice. I
am seldom mistaken in a man whom I have once looked in the eyes; and I
know I can trust you, as I dare trust few others,--none within these
walls save the good Mishka. He has told you that I am virtually a
prisoner here?"
I bowed assent.
"I am closely guarded, my every word, my every gesture noted; though
when the time is ripe, or when she sends word that she needs me, I shall
slip away! There is a great game, a stern one, preparing; and there will
be a part for us both to play. I will give you the outline to-night,
when I shall come to you again. That staircase yonder leads down to my
apartments. I had it made years ago by foreign workmen, and none save
myself and the Pavloffs--and you now--know of its existence, so far.
In public we must be strangers; after the formal audience I give you
to-night I shall probably ignore you altogether. But as Gould, the
American farming expert, you will be able to come and go, riding the
estates with Pavloff--or without him--and yet rouse no suspicion.
To-night I shall return as I said; and now _au revoir_."
He left just in time, for a minute or two after I had unlocked the
door, Nicolai reappeared, and conducted me to an ante-room where I found
quite a throng of officers, one of whom introduced himself as Colonel
Grodwitz, and presented me to several of the others. They all treated
me with the easy courtesy which well-bred Russians assume--and
discard--with such facility; but then, and later, I had to be constantly
on guard against innumerable questions, which, though asked in what
appeared to be a perfectly frank and spontaneous manner, were, I was
convinced, sprung on me for the purpose of ascertaining how much I knew
of Russia and its complicated affairs.
But I was quite ready for them, and if they had any suspicions I hope
they abandoned them for the present.
After dinner a resplendent footman brought a message to Grodwitz, who
thereupon told me that he was to conduct me to his Highness, who would
receive me now.
"Say, what shall I have to do?" I asked confidentially as we passed
along a magnificent corridor. "I've been to a levee held by the King of
England, but I don't know anything of Russian Court etiquette."
He laughed and shrugged his shoulders.
"There is no need for you to observe etiquette, _mon ami_. Are you not
an American and a Republican? Therefore none will blame you if you are
unceremonious,--least of all our puissant Grand Duke! Have you not heard
that he himself is a kind of '_Jacques bonhomme_'?"
"That means just a peasant, doesn't it?" I asked obtusely. "No, I hadn't
heard that."
He laughed again.
"Did the good Mishka tell you nothing?"
"Why, no; he's the surliest and most silent fellow I've ever travelled
with."
"He is discreet, that Mishka," said Grodwitz, and drew himself up
stiffly as the footman, who had preceded us, threw open a door, and
ushered us into the Duke's presence.
He was standing before a great open fireplace in which a log fire
crackled cheerily, and beside him was the little fat officer I had
seen him with before; while there were several others present, all
ceremoniously standing, and looking more or less bored.
Our interview was brief and formal; but I noted that the fat officer
and Grodwitz were keenly observant of all that passed.
"Well, that's all right," I said with a sigh of relief, when Grodwitz
and I were back in the corridor again. "But there doesn't seem to be
much of the peasant about him!"
"I was but jesting, _mon ami_," Grodwitz assured me. "But now your
ordeal is over. You will take a hand at bridge, _hein_?"