SOPHIA ALEXEIEVNA.
While we were still conversing, there was a noise in the hall, and I
heard a familiar voice. In a moment, the doctor’s man told me that
my attendant wished to speak with me. I found Pierrot by the outer
door, looking much disturbed and not a little important,--his way when
employed on confidential business. I was annoyed at him for following
me to Von Gaden’s house.
“What brings you here?” I asked, a trifle sharply.
“A message from the Kremlin, M. le Vicomte,” he said at once, in a low
tone. “The messenger is waiting at your apartments now.”
Going through my private papers, I thought immediately, knowing Russian
methods.
“Why did you not wait for me to return, you knave?” I said, half
angrily; “you know better than to leave a stranger at large in my
rooms.”
Pierrot held up some keys. “He is locked in the hall, M. le Vicomte,”
he said calmly. “I took that precaution.”
“Locked out the imperial messenger!” I exclaimed, aghast. “What trouble
will you make next, you blockhead?”
But I could not forbear laughing. The thought of the messenger locked
in the narrow hall, while Pierrot gravely departed with the keys, was
exquisitely ridiculous.
I made a hasty apology to Von Gaden, and hurried away with my
attendant. My curiosity was roused, for I could not imagine what had
prompted a summons to the Kremlin at that hour, and from one of the
imperial family. A hundred possibilities flashed through my head;
but the only one that seemed likely was that some news had arrived
from my government which required my immediate attention; and yet
the diplomatic relations were not so intimate as to make even that
probable. The distance from my house to Von Gaden’s was not great, and
I hastened my steps the more because of Pierrot’s peculiar reception
of the envoy. I found him sitting stiffly in the hall, evidently angry
at the treatment he had received, but willing to accept my apology on
the ground of my man’s stupidity. It was one of the Czarevna Sophia’s
gentlemen-in-waiting, and he was the bearer of a verbal message from
the princess, requesting my immediate attendance at the palace. I was
much surprised, but prepared at once to accompany him; my dress had
been a little disordered by the skirmish with the assassin, and I
had to make some slight changes before I could present myself at the
Kremlin. However, in a quarter of an hour we were on the way, having
left Pierrot with an expression of gloomy apprehension on his face;
for he had no confidence in the good faith of the Russians, and seemed
to live in anticipation of a dreadful fate. The czarevna’s messenger
treated me with a deference that argued that he, at least, fancied my
errand to be one of importance; but he seemed especially anxious to
avoid conversation, and I could not blame him, for I knew that the
state of affairs was such as to make any wise man hold his tongue, for
it was dangerous to declare adherence to either the Miloslavskys or the
Naryshkins at that time. As we approached the Gate of Saint Nicholas
of Mojaïsk, my companion left me for a few moments to speak to three
men who were leaving it; they conversed in low tones, and with great
earnestness. A little observation convinced me that they were Streltsi,
and here was another straw to show which way the wind was blowing. In
a few moments my guide rejoined me, and there were traces of agitation
in his manner. The anterooms of the palace were almost deserted when we
entered, and he hurried me towards the apartments of the czarevnas. I
was ushered into a vacant guardroom of the _Terem_, and left to await
the pleasure of the princess. In the quarter of an hour that ensued,
my meditations were peculiar; I had given up trying to conjecture the
cause of the summons, and waited with what patience I could command.
I examined the apartment with some curiosity, for it was unusual for
a stranger to gain admittance within these precincts, and impossible
before the time of the Czarina Natalia; Alexis’ affection for his young
bride, who had been brought up by Matveief’s Scotch wife, had allowed
her a freedom before unknown in the imperial household, where it had
been a criminal offence to meet the czarina unveiled. Two windows
of the room looked down upon the Red Place, so that the inmates had
ample opportunity to observe the occurrences without; the interior was
furnished in the rich Oriental fashion, and was evidently no longer
occupied by the guards, but had probably been added to Sophia’s suite
of apartments. I had always felt a good deal of curiosity about this
princess, who had so overshadowed her sisters and her blind brother,
Ivan. She had shared her brother Feodor’s education, and had taken
advantage of all the liberty so lately given to the women of the czar’s
family, during Feodor’s illness taking a prominent part in affairs of
State, putting aside the last formalities which hedged in the imperial
household; therefore, I was not surprised when the door opened at last
to see her enter alone.
Sophia Alexeievna at that time was still a young woman, but exceedingly
stout, her short figure being crowned by an enormous head, out of all
proportion even to the bulky body, and the Russian dress of the day
increased her appearance of flesh, falling, as it did, a long full
robe from the throat to the feet; that night, it was black, edged with
sable, and embroidered with silver. She was an extremely plain woman,
but there was an imperial dignity in her bearing which counterbalanced
the effect of her proportions, and her small eyes were keen and
penetrating, with a glance at once haughty and unflinching. Yet there
was a charm about the czarevna’s manner when she wished to please, and
her voice could be exceedingly pleasant and winning.
She came forward now to a table in the center of the room, and signed
to me to approach, which I did with a profound obeisance. My curiosity
was thoroughly roused, and, moreover, I felt a strong desire to secure
the friendship of this remarkable woman. She had learned enough French
to address me by name without hesitation, but beyond that she spoke in
Russian, which was fortunately as familiar to me as my mother tongue.
“M. le Vicomte,” she said pleasantly, “you are doubtless surprised
at this arbitrary summons; but we have learned to look upon you as
a friend of our late brother, the martyred czar, and we felt that
we could rely upon your kindness and your discretion to execute
a--” Sophia hesitated, and I fancied she was deciding what shade of
importance to give to her request, “a delicate mission for us at this
time, when we cannot easily spare one of our own trusted relatives.”
It was my turn to hesitate a little, for I was not willing to commit
myself blindly to the performance of some secret mission.
“Your highness can rely on my friendship and discretion,” I murmured,
“and it would give me pleasure to do any reasonable service for any of
the imperial family.”
The czarevna cast a keen glance at me as if she thought my reply a
little ambiguous, but was far too astute to show any doubt of my
fidelity.
“The service I ask is trifling,” she said calmly, lying as coolly as
I ever heard any woman lie in my life, for I knew that no man was
summoned at that hour to the Kremlin for a trifle; but I forgave her
the lie, for the sake of the grace with which she told it.
“If your highness will instruct me as to the nature of the errand,” I
began, stammering a little, for I was in a dilemma, not desiring to
offend either faction, and knowing that I was treading on a mine which
was liable to explode under the pressure of my heel. I thought that she
was rather enjoying my discomfiture, for I saw a gleam of amusement in
her alert eyes, and she had the most painfully alert glance that it has
ever been my destiny to endeavor to evade.
“M. le Vicomte,” she said with a smile, and an air of bland candor, “I
know well that I am calling upon a stranger for a personal service, and
that you do not owe me the allegiance of a subject; but,” she added
with perfect grace of manner, “you are a French gentleman, and I know
your reputation for gallantry; therefore consider me, monsieur, as only
a woman asking a friendly service at your hands, and forget that I am a
czarevna of Russia, and a sister of the unhappy czarevitch.”
She could hardly have placed me in a more awkward predicament; I saw
at once that a refusal would be a deadly offense, and I had heard that
Sophia’s memory was long. There was no alternative but to meet the
exigency with what grace I could summon to my aid.
“It is too much honor,” I said, bowing low, and feeling that it was
indeed a greater honor than I desired, “and I am sure that there can be
no doubt of my readiness to serve your highness at all times.”
“Alas, M. le Vicomte,” Sophia replied with a heavy sigh, “we scarcely
know where to look for true friends now. The election of the younger
czarevitch dashed our hopes to the ground, and we can but look with
despair upon our elder brother, set aside in favor of a child of ten!
In the hour of prosperity, friends are plentiful indeed; but when an
ill wind blows, the ship is soon deserted. We poor orphans are indeed
desolate. Therefore,” she added, with a sudden change from melancholy
to graciousness, “we value more a token of your disinterested
kindness. I will ask but a small service, monsieur; there is a little
packet here that I would have delivered to-night, and I am at loss to
find a trusty messenger. One of our own people might be apprehended,
but you, M. de Brousson, could deliver it without hurt and without
suspicion.”
I was not afraid of any risk except that which seemed imminent of
being involved in some of the Miloslavskys’ schemes. If I had been at
that time acting as an envoy of the French king, I could have evaded
the czarevna’s importunity; but my diplomatic mission was long ago
concluded, and I was in Russia on my own responsibility, and was aware
that she knew it; nevertheless, I was in a fever of embarrassment. I
stammered something about being too blunt a man to execute political
errands; but the princess swept aside my objection with an ease that
I could not but admire, while I chafed under it. She had me in her
toils, and I saw that escape was impossible. She had already lifted the
packet, which was a small one, from the table, and was examining the
seals before handing it to me.
“You will do me a personal service, M. le Vicomte,” she said sweetly,
“and one that Sophia will never forget. You need only to conceal this
about your person and deliver it, with what speed you can, to Prince
Basil Galitsyn, who is outside the city now, at the house of the Boyar
Urusof. It is important that he receive these papers to-night.”
I started when I heard the mention of Galitsyn’s name, for it was
rumored that the great czarevna loved this handsome prince. Galitsyn
was a descendant of the Lithuanian monarchs, and belonged to one
of the most illustrious families in Russia, besides being a man of
attainments and of a dignified presence. I knew at once that my errand
was of importance, and suspected that the messenger would be watched,
and therefore the shrewd czarevna had selected a foreigner who was
certain to escape suspicion. I received the packet from her hands with
a reluctance that it was difficult to conceal. However, there are
none so blind as those who do not desire to see, and Sophia feigned
ignorance of my embarrassment. She took the pains to give me minute
directions about the route to Urusof’s villa, and offered to supply
me with a horse. But I declined the offer, for two obvious reasons:
first, I preferred my own animal on a journey on a bad road at night;
second, I knew that to have a horse brought from the imperial stables
at that hour for me would attract attention, even if it did not arouse
suspicion.
“You will find Prince Galitsyn,” Sophia said in conclusion, when she
was dismissing me, “and deliver this packet into his own hands, and so
earn my grateful thanks.”
And she extended her hand with a smile that on a more beautiful face
would have been captivating. I made my obeisance, and departed with as
good a grace as I could assume, while my heart was like lead, for I
had no relish for my errand and a deep-rooted distrust of the smiling
czarevna, who I fancied would walk to power over her fallen friends
with the same cheerful aspect. As I left the apartment, I stumbled
on the recumbent form of one of the court dwarfs, who had been lying
outside the door. I was not a little disconcerted to find that it was
Homyak, for whom I had conceived a dislike as strong as that felt by
Von Gaden. However, a glance at his face satisfied me that he had been
napping, and was in a very ill humor at being disturbed. He snarled out
something about walking over a man as if he were a toad, and curled
himself down again, like a huge house dog, on the door-sill, while I
hurried through the anterooms, only anxious to avoid notice, and with
the czarevna’s packet concealed in my bosom. When I reached the Red
Staircase, I loosened my sword in the scabbard, and hastened my step as
I walked across the Red Place and towards the Gate of the Redeemer.