PRINCE BASIL GALITSYN.
ALTHOUGH the packet was again safe in my possession, I was in some
perplexity. The czarevna’s directions were emphatic. I was to have
delivered it into Prince Galitsyn’s hands on the previous evening,
and he was then temporarily at the house of the Boyar Urusof. Where
the prince was now, and what the czarevna’s present wishes in regard
to the ill-fated packet, I was at loss to conjecture. Yet it did not
occur to me to go back to the Kremlin, and restore her missive with
only the plain story of my defeat. While I was casting about in my
mind for a ready solution of my difficult problem, I heard the sound
of a horse’s hoofs, and a rider entered the farther end of the lane;
as he approached, I recognized Pierrot. He uttered an exclamation, and
slipping from the saddle, stood before me, as stoical as ever, save for
a gleam of relief in his eyes. I was more glad to see the knave than I
let him know.
“How came you to seek me here?” I exclaimed, feigning ignorance of his
search for me.
“I went back to the doctor’s,” he replied calmly, “and he told me that
you had gone in this direction. You had better take my horse, M. le
Vicomte,” he added, “and I will return on foot.”
“Have you heard anything at the Kremlin to-day?” I asked, after a
moment’s thought.
“Only of the excitement over the granting of the petitions of the
Streltsi,” he replied.
“Is Prince Basil Galitsyn there?” I asked, hoping he might have some
information.
“No, monsieur,” he said; “the prince has not gone to the Kremlin,
but has just arrived at his own palace, for I passed there but three
quarters of an hour since, and he had just come.”
My mind was made up at once.
“I will take your horse, Pierrot,” I said; “and you can return and
prepare my dinner, for I shall be hungry. Stay,” I added, as he turned
to go, “tell Dr. von Gaden that I go to Prince Basil Galitsyn’s house
and from there I shall return to my quarters.”
I took this precaution, remembering my experience with the czarevna’s
papers, and fearing that they might bring me ill luck again. Then I
turned my horse’s head in the direction of the prince’s palace, and
made what speed I could, traversing deserted streets again, for all
the city was feasting on the hideous spectacle in the quarters of the
Streltsi.
My acquaintance with Galitsyn was slight; but I had early recognized
his ability, and since Von Gaden’s eulogium, had taken a greater
interest in him. That his star would rise in case of Sophia’s success,
I did not doubt, and I felt some curiosity about the probable result of
such an event.
Galitsyn was at home, and I was granted immediate admittance.
The prince was rich, and his house was furnished with Oriental
magnificence; while I stood waiting in one of the anterooms, I had
leisure to examine my surroundings, and notice the splendid hangings
and luxurious furniture. I had always observed that he was more
European in his habits and manners than the rest of the nobles about
the court, and I saw here, in his house, the conjunction of Western
civilization and Eastern splendor. The doors were open, and where I
stood, I could look through a suite of apartments glittering with
silver and gold, hung with the richest silks, and ornamented with
marble statuary; it was a home worthy a _grand seigneur_. I suspected
that he was a man of unlimited ambition, and I could but admire the
shrewdness which had enabled him to gain an ascendency over the mind
of the most brilliant member of the imperial family, for I never for
a moment dreamed that Galitsyn reciprocated Sophia’s affection; but
for political reasons, he probably feigned a devotion which he did
not feel; such is the misfortune of princesses. Looking back now upon
that day, I see how little any of us reckoned on the future of the boy
czar,--Peter Alexeivitch, whose hold upon the scepter seemed so slight,
yet whose iron hand would one day mold and weld the disintegrated
empire into a great state, and sway the destiny of Russia. I scarcely
heeded then the shrewd Von Gaden’s estimate of the young Tartar; the
Jew was the only one who recognized the star that was rising out of
that sea of intrigue and misrule.
I waited, possibly, half an hour, before one of the prince’s gentlemen
came to conduct me into his presence, for Galitsyn hedged himself in
with no little ceremony. I followed the usher into a long and splendid
_salon_, hung with the richest tapestry; at the farther end was a
writing-table, at which sat Prince Galitsyn, conversing earnestly
with a man who wore the uniform of the Streltsi; as I approached I
recognized with astonishment my acquaintance, Peter Lykof. A pile
of papers lay on the table before Galitsyn, who was so intent upon
them that he did not notice the usher who preceded me to announce my
entrance. Lykof looking around greeted me with an easy assurance of
manner that I had always observed about him; and Galitsyn, looking up
at this moment, thrust his papers aside, and saluted me with courtesy.
The prince was an extremely handsome man, and had a grace of manner
which made him the most successful of the Russian diplomats, and
withal, he had the gallant and straightforward bearing of the soldier
that he really was. I signified at once that my business was for his
private ear, and Lykof, taking the hint, prepared to withdraw. To my
surprise, Galitsyn held out his hand to him warmly, as if bidding adieu
to an equal.
“I have to thank you, prince,” Lykof said easily, “for your patient
hearing of my complaint. I have waited long, but at last I may hope for
justice.”
“It cannot fail you in so righteous a cause,” replied the prince at
once; “the czarevna probably knows much of the case already, and you
may always look for justice at her hands.”
I made a mental note of this, and hoped that the czarevna’s forbearance
was equal to her justice; but something in her small eyes had warned
me that her ideas on this point might be a little crude and simple.
However, Lykof did not seem troubled with my apprehensions, probably
having an easier conscience, and he parted from Galitsyn with the
utmost cordiality, saluting me as he passed with a dignity worthy a
higher rank.
When I was alone with the prince, I immediately presented my packet,
briefly stating my unfortunate experience and the difficulty I had
encountered in fulfilling the czarevna’s mission. Galitsyn listened
attentively, meanwhile turning the packet over and over in his hands,
his keen glance shifting from it to my face and back again. When I had
concluded, he broke the seals, glanced hastily at the contents, and
then, laying it on the table before him, regarded me with an expression
which I could not fathom.
“M. le Vicomte,” he said slowly, “you have done well. Her Imperial
Highness will not forget so distinguished a service. If this packet
had reached the hands of an enemy,”--he paused as if to give weight
to his words,--“I cannot measure the results. It would be unworthy of
me to dissemble with you, M. de Brousson; it would have ruined the
Miloslavskys.”
I had divined the importance of my errand, and was amused at the
prince’s candor in comparison with Sophia’s caution. He made me repeat
to him again the history of my adventure. I had told him frankly
every particular, only omitting all mention of Zénaïde, and making
Mademoiselle Eudoxie my sole deliverer. He seemed especially angered
against Ramodanofsky, not having apparently suspected him of being so
deeply committed to the scheme to defeat Sophia’s intrigues.
“It is strange,” he said thoughtfully, “how one thing leads to another.
This boyar has an unsavory reputation, it appears.”
It flashed into my mind to tell him Von Gaden’s story; but remembering
that the latter’s interests were all with the Naryshkins, I forbore.
Instead of speaking of the Ramodanofskys, I expressed my satisfaction
at having been able to fulfill my mission at all, and my fears that it
was too late to be a successful execution of my trust. Galitsyn’s reply
reassured me on one point at least.
“In one respect it is too late,” he said, “in that, the Naryshkins
overreached themselves. If anything could have prevented this scourging
to-day--Ah, well, what odds! But it is just in time, since you saved it
from evil hands.”
I was not a little shocked at the thought of the horrid consequences
that were perhaps involved in the delay of that little packet;
Galitsyn, however, apparently dismissed it from his thoughts with
perfect ease.
“You have heard the news, M. le Vicomte?” he said lightly; “the
ex-Chancellor Matveief has returned.”
I was startled at his careless announcement of this arrival, as I knew
that the czarina’s former guardian was a power even with the Streltsi,
and fancied that Galitsyn must feel firm ground under his own feet, or
he would not have spoken of it so lightly.
“I knew that the ex-chancellor was at his country-place,” I said, as
easily as I could, for I had no desire to betray my surprise, “but I
had not heard of his arrival in this city.”
“Your head was probably tied up in one of Ramodanofsky’s rugs at the
time,” the prince replied with a smile; “but it is a fact that Matveief
is here, to assume, I suppose, the reins of government.”
I looked at him inquiringly, but could not read his inscrutable and
smiling face, therefore I fell back on a safe reply.
“All this is news to me, your excellency,” I said. “I was probably, as
you say, muffled in one of Ramodanofsky’s rugs.”
“Well, as long as you escape his steward as happily as our friend did,
all will be well,” Galitsyn replied serenely; and I saw at once that
Lykof had given him a full account of his treatment at the hands of
Polotsky.
“I am at a loss,” I remarked, “to understand the attack upon Peter
Lykof.”
The prince laughed. “There are many problems in this world, M. le
Vicomte,” he said; “but you will find Peter Lykof a very worthy man.”
I determined to throw out a hint that I suspected that Lykof was
concealing his true identity.
“The man interests me chiefly,” I said, “because he seems to be of more
importance than he claims.”
Galitsyn looked at me thoughtfully, as if making up his mind whether he
could fully trust me, and after a moment, determining upon reserve.
“You have approached the truth, M. de Brousson,” he said calmly; “but
it is not worth while to fathom it as yet. Lykof is a man who can keep
a secret so well that I marvel that you have formed so accurate a
conclusion.”
“Perhaps he has been more careless with me than usual,” I replied,
satisfied that there was a good deal behind Galitsyn’s reserve, and in
spite of myself feeling a keen interest.
“Like the Czarevna Sophia, he has probably recognized your honor, M. le
Vicomte,” replied the prince, graciously, fencing as easily as usual.
I had told him of Homyak’s villainy, and now, before taking my leave,
recalled it to his mind.
“The rogue deserves punishment richly,” I said angrily, recalling my
sensations of suffocation.
“Yes, such vermin are best exterminated,” Galitsyn replied; “but he
will serve a purpose yet, perhaps. It is always my policy to let such
knaves run, not only their own heads, but a few others into the noose
before strangling them.”