THE FLIGHT.
WHILE the women were creeping down ahead of me, I reflected upon the
risks of our situation, and speculated a little upon the chances of
Ramodanofsky’s having neglected to set a watch upon his niece. All
these thoughts crowded into my mind, as thoughts always do, in such
a crisis. We had the long court to cross before we could be out of
range of a dozen windows. Mademoiselle Eudoxie seemed nerved by the
excitement of the moment, and preceded us with a firm step, Zénaïde’s
slender cloaked figure following her, and I so close behind that her
garments brushed against me as we went. We got down the stairs safe,
and across the anterooms, and mademoiselle had unfastened the postern,
before a noise to the left startled us and hastened her movements. She
and Zénaïde were passing out when a door opposite was thrown open and a
man stood on the threshold, holding a light in his hand. In the first
moment, the sudden illumination in the dark hall dazzling our eyes, I
do not think that he saw me any more distinctly than I saw him. I was
carrying my sheathed sword in my hand, and the inspiration coming to
me with the peril, I struck the light from his hand, and it sputtered
and went out on the floor; but in the instant before extinction it
flared up, and I recognized the steward Polotsky, and feared that he
recognized me. The next moment I was outside, and had closed the door
behind me. Mademoiselle Eudoxie, with a quickness of thought that I had
not given her credit for, had removed the key from the inside out, and
turned it now before joining our hurried flight across the court. I was
regretting all the while that I had not struck Polotsky down, but my
hand had been stayed by fear of an outcry, which would have roused the
house.
Half way across the court, Mademoiselle Eudoxie halted with a little
suppressed cry, pointing to a man in front of us. It was too late
to retreat now, and Zénaïde evidently understood this as well as I
did, for she advanced calmly towards him, taking the lead, as became
her position in the house. He stood aside for her, and to my relief,
I recognized Pierrot. Seeing me, he fell into line, and followed
us, greatly to mademoiselle’s discomfiture; but there was no time
for explanation, and we passed out of the courtyard without further
incident. Pierrot, running ahead, summoned the carriage with two low
whistles, and we helped mademoiselle and Zénaïde to get in, I following
them, while Pierrot rode with the coachman. Once fairly off, I drew a
sigh of relief. There were, at least, no signs of pursuit or indeed of
any disturbance, the house maintaining a quiet that made me marvel at
Polotsky’s failure to give the alarm, and I began to wonder a little
if he was not the best person to have discovered us; but mademoiselle
quickly dispelled this illusion when I told her who had opened the door
upon us.
“The saints defend us!” she exclaimed. “No one could be worse except
the boyar himself. Polotsky is a devil!”
I was heartily of her opinion, but had the encouragement of feeling
that we had so far evaded pursuit.
Zénaïde said nothing; I could discern the outline of her figure
opposite me, and she seemed to have sunk back into her corner with an
entire surrender of purpose, letting events shape themselves. We were
driving fast, and the distance was not great.
“I wish you had killed him!” mademoiselle remarked, becoming suddenly
bloodthirsty, which was amusing; for immediately a vision of her mild,
frightened face arose.
“I would have killed him cheerfully,” I replied, “if I had not feared
that he would raise an outcry, and so make your escape impossible.”
“He would have done so; he is a great coward,” said Zénaïde, quietly.
“Besides,” she added to mademoiselle, “you would not have M. le
Vicomte’s sword stained with the blood of such a toad.”
“Dead men tell no tales,” mademoiselle muttered to herself, “and I have
always dreaded that man; he has an eye like a cat’s.”
“He is undoubtedly an accomplished villain, for my uncle reposes great
confidence in him,” remarked Zénaïde, with a bitter little laugh.
“It is not worth while considering it now,” I said, to reassure them;
“we undoubtedly evaded his vigilance by locking the door upon him. I do
not believe that he reached the other part of the house before we were
safely out of the court, and he is not likely to fathom our designs.”
“One cannot tell,” murmured mademoiselle. “I sometimes think that he
and Ramodanofsky--I beg your pardon, Zénaïde--are allied with Satan,
it seems so difficult to defeat them.”
A hundred yards from Von Gaden’s house the carriage stopped, and
Pierrot came to the door.
“What is the matter?” I asked sharply.
“A carriage is easily tracked, M. le Vicomte,” he said hesitatingly,
“and I thought perhaps, as a precaution, you had better go the rest of
the way on foot.”
He spoke in French, evidently supposing that both women were Russians
and would not understand him, for I saw his start of surprise when
Mademoiselle Eudoxie exclaimed, in her native tongue,--
“He is right, Monsieur Philippe; we had better get out here, for if
Polotsky try to track us, he will follow the carriage.”
I saw the wisdom of the suggestion, and getting out, helped them to
alight. Pierrot directed the coachman to return by a circuitous route
to my quarters, while we four proceeded on foot to Von Gaden’s house.
I was half inclined to doubt the necessity for the precaution when
I looked back and saw only deserted streets. I walked in front with
Zénaïde, and Pierrot escorted mademoiselle, who, recognizing him as a
fellow-countryman, chatted to him as they went; anything French was
welcome to her. For a little way Zénaïde and I were silent, but as the
doctor’s house was near at hand, she spoke.
“M. de Brousson,” she said in a low voice, in which there was a slight
tremor, “I have no words in which to thank you. My gratitude is equal
to the horror from which I am fleeing. Alone, mademoiselle and I could
have accomplished nothing; we did not even know what to do. To you,
then, monsieur, I owe a liberty which is more precious than my life.”
I was deeply moved, and words rushed to my lips which I dared not utter
at that time, and in her hour of peril.
“Mademoiselle,” I said, as quietly as I could, “it is my happiness to
have served you, and my hope to serve you yet more faithfully. I will
spare nothing to deliver you from your uncle, and to obtain your entire
freedom from restraint.”
“It is a terrible thing, M. de Brousson,” Zénaïde said thoughtfully,
“to be persecuted by one of your own family; but my uncle has never had
any sympathy for me. I am merely a card in his hands, to be played when
the stakes are certain; he has never considered me as a human being.
He is cruel, and I dread the consequences to you of these kind offices.”
“Fear nothing, mademoiselle,” I responded cheerfully. “I know also
something of your uncle, and fear him not at all.”
“You are brave, monsieur,” she replied with a soft little laugh. “As a
rule my uncle is a terror to friends and foes. Alas! I believe no one
is his friend except through fear or favor; that is the common fate of
such men as he!”
“That is true, mademoiselle,” I replied thoughtfully; “but it is also
true that to a man of such inflexible will, the support of friendly
sympathy is superfluous. I can fancy him treating it with scorn. He
would rejoice in ruling by the force of his own determination, and
crushing out all resistance.”
“Yes,” she said quietly; “he would crush out life itself if the
opposition to his will were obstinate. I believe that he has learned to
hate me since he has found that I will not yield to his authority the
unquestioning obedience of a child, and yet he has never tried to win
me to submission by any kindness or persuasion. He is a man of iron.”
I thought of her persecuted mother and her murdered father, and had no
words with which to answer her. How little she measured the villainy
of this stern man! she was like a child trying to read the soul of a
rogue.
We had reached Von Gaden’s house, and the doctor himself opened the
door in response to my summons. He looked not a little surprised at the
sight of the two women with me, but admitted us with his usual gentle
courtesy. We entered, leaving Pierrot on the doorstep to watch for and
warn us of possible pursuit. Mademoiselle and he remembered each other,
for he had been at the château while she was there, and it was amusing
to see the mutual joy at the discovery of some one who belonged to that
quiet and trustworthy past, for they both had the same horror of their
present environment; and she seemed to feel reassured because this old
retainer watched at the door. The doctor ushered her and Zénaïde into
a private room, and then I asked to speak to him alone, feeling that
I could explain matters more clearly out of the hearing of the two
most concerned. I was for going straight into the doctor’s study, but
to my surprise, found that already occupied. A man was sitting by the
table and rose at the sight of me; it was Peter Lykof, but the doctor
drew me into another room, and closing the door with his back, stood
regarding me with an expression of inquiry in his eyes. Now that I had
brought Zénaïde to his house, I realized that I was demanding a good
deal of his kindness, and exposing him to no contemptible danger. I was
therefore not a little disturbed at the unusual _brusquerie_ of his
demeanor. He saw my momentary embarrassment, and his manner relaxed.
“Well, M. le Vicomte,” he said quietly, “I see that your errand is
unusual, but we gain nothing by delay. To what am I indebted for the
honor of this visit from the unknown ladies yonder?”
I looked up in surprise; it had not occurred to me that he had failed
to recognize them under their mufflings.
“It is Mademoiselle Ramodanofsky and her _demoiselle de compagnie_,”
I said at once, “come to you in an hour of great distress, and at my
recommendation.”
Von Gaden started at the mention of her name, and was looking at me
curiously.
“This is strange,” he remarked thoughtfully; “the coincidences of this
life are marvelous!”
“I ventured to appeal to you to help her,” I went on, “because you,
before any one, knew of the villainy of her uncle. He is now determined
to force this young girl to marry that rogue, Viatscheslav Naryshkin,
to-morrow morning, and she has declared that she will sooner die. In
this extremity, I could think of but two avenues of escape for her:
one was a direct appeal to the Czarevna Sophia; the other, temporary
concealment in your house, until influence can be brought to bear upon
Ramodanofsky, to compel him to surrender his purpose. I have reason to
believe that the czarevna will aid her cheerfully.”
Von Gaden took a short turn across the room, evidently much excited.
“May I ask you a question that must seem impertinent, M. de Brousson?”
he said at last. “How did you penetrate the fortress of a Russian house
and learn these secrets, when Ramodanofsky is, I know, no friend of
yours?”
My color rose, but I understood the Jew’s amazement.
“I owe my success to my own temerity,” I replied; “the confidence is
from my sister’s old governess, Mademoiselle Eudoxie. But if they
cannot safely stay here under your wife’s protection, you must tell me
at once, so that we can go straight to the Kremlin.”
“Are you mad, Brousson?” exclaimed Von Gaden, hastily. “Go to the
Kremlin in the midst of such excitement! Sophia is not strong enough
to-day to protect the palace from the violence of the mob that she has
tried to excite to mutiny ever since the Czar Feodor’s funeral. Zénaïde
Feodorovna is welcome to the shelter of my roof as long as I have one.
It would be madness to go out again to-night. Vladimir Ramodanofsky
will search well for his victim, and he will not let her escape so
easily again. These are uncertain times, M. le Vicomte. To-day it looks
as if the scale were turning in the favor of the Naryshkins. Matveief
is holding a reception at his house, and all the courtiers are carrying
presents to him; who can tell whether or not that astute old chancellor
may not stem the tide of popular displeasure and establish his former
ward’s son firmly upon the throne? In which case,” added Von Gaden,
snapping his fingers, “I would not give that for Sophia’s influence at
court.”
I would not be discouraged. “I differ with you,” I said at once; “I do
not believe that forty Matveiefs could turn the tide at this late hour.
The thunder of sedition is already rumbling over yonder in the quarters
of the Streltsi, and I have seen Basil Galitsyn’s confidence; he is too
shrewd a man to plant his feet on sand.”
Von Gaden shook his head. However, his interests were with the
Naryshkins, and it was natural for him to overestimate their strength.
At least I was assured of Zénaïde’s immediate safety; and after a
little consultation, Von Gaden went to his wife, and she received
mademoiselle and Zénaïde, carrying them away to her portion of the
house. It was then that Dr. von Gaden puzzled me by advising me to take
no action in the matter for the present.
“Let affairs drift with the tide for a day or so,” he said. “There is
scarcely a chance of their presence here being discovered; meanwhile,
the crisis is approaching, and we shall know which side will hold
the balance of power. The old boyar has chosen his time cleverly, to
force Zénaïde’s marriage just when interference from the Kremlin was
unlikely; but he counted without his host,” he added with a peculiar
smile, “and she has shown her father’s spirit in her resistance. I
always felt that there was good mettle in her, and that she would fight
when the hour came.”
I rose to go. “I will leave Pierrot here,” I said, “as an additional
safeguard in case of need.”
“It is unnecessary,” the doctor replied; “I have a sufficient number
of servants to watch over the household, and the presence of your
man will only attract notice, and mayhap arouse suspicion. Leave
Mademoiselle Zénaïde to me, and only hold yourself in readiness for any
call.”
I was reluctant enough to do this, and yet recognized the wisdom of his
advice, and could not ask permission to stay on guard myself, although
I longed to do so, and fancied that Von Gaden had already divined my
secret. Whether that was the case or not, he was evidently anxious to
get me out of the house, and I was compelled to submit to fate, and
withdraw with what grace I could command.
As I went out, I saw Lykof still sitting in the doctor’s study, and
wondered a little at his errand. On the doorstep I found Pierrot,
faithful to his duty. He reported that all was quiet, and he had seen
nothing to arouse any suspicion that we had been traced to Von Gaden’s
house; so I went to my quarters with a comparatively quiet mind.