CHAPTER XIX.THE MARRIAGE OF THE DWARFS.
I rodetoward the Kremlin with a heavy heart; the perplexity and perils of my position were increased a hundredfold. My distance from my own government and my comparative isolation in Moscow made a demand for justice not only difficult but practically futile. The czar had no right to imprison arbitrarily one of my suite, but how absurd was it to talk of privileges to the autocrat of all the Russias! It was well enough to carry matters with a high hand and threaten the wrath of the King of France while M. de Lambert was a free man, but thecoup d’étatwas accomplished; he was actually in a Russian prison, and might easily starve there before aid could come from Versailles. What folly had led him into the trap? What madness on his part had prompted this sudden seizure? Not only did I find these questions difficult to answer, but I found it difficult, too, to hit upon a plan of action. Never was man in more unfortunate position,—responsible for a delicate mission to the king my master; responsible for a reckless young soldier; responsible for the honor and dignity of my country, anddealing with a man of violent passions, for the czar was a volcano ready to breathe smoke and fire at a moment’s provocation. And how could I approach him now? Should I assume ignorance, and appeal to him to aid me in my search for M. de Lambert, or should I boldly proclaim my knowledge of the imprisonment and demand justice in the name of the King of France? I checked my horse and rode slowly to give myself time for thought. On the whole, I reflected that feigned ignorance would suit my purpose best, since defiance could scarcely help me and might deeply incense the czar. There was one chance in a hundred for the young man’s release, and that was a slender one. I fancied that he would be offered an alternative; renunciation of mademoiselle or imprisonment, perhaps worse, if Peter dared to offer a deeper injury to a soldier of France. Knowing the czar as I did, I doubted his hesitation at anything, especially where his personal feelings were involved, and I no longer doubted his love for Najine. How tangled is the skein of our existence! Here was a young girl, simple, beautiful, innocent, holding in her hand the knot of an emperor’s destiny, and by that accident of fate, involving so many other lives in the meshes. Here were love and hate, malice and revenge, secret treason and attempted assassination interwoven by the accident of one man’s fancy, simply because that he was royal.
Slow as had been the latter part of my journey, it was accomplished in spite of my reflections, and I found myself at the entrance of the palace. My dress was somewhat disordered by hard riding, but I made no attempt to adjust it, for it seemed to me that my appearance would be one evidence of the urgency of my errand. Entering the ante-room, I requested an audience of the czar. The chamberlain hesitated at first, saying that his Majesty was present at a marriage and would scarcely permit an interruption; but, hearing that my business was imperative, he consented to be the bearer of my petition, and, departing on his errand, left me for half an hour to my own reflections. I suspected that Peter was not anxious to receive me, and speculated not a little on the possibilities of the approaching interview, although all the time full of anxiety for M. de Lambert, knowing something of the treatment that he was likely to receive. After my patience was nearly exhausted, the chamberlain returned and informed me that it was the czar’s pleasure that I should be conducted to his presence. I followed the Russian, expecting a private audience; but instead of turning towards the czar’s own apartments, he led me through a low narrow passage to one of the large halls. We entered by a small door at the lower end, and I paused a moment on the threshold, regarding the scene with considerable astonishment. It was a splendidsalon, barbaric in its gorgeous colors, which made a background for a fantastic painted decoration of palm-leaves and flowers, and it was spanned by glittering arches supporting the vaulted roof, and was lighted by a thousand tapers. In seats and upon cushions, arranged close against the four walls, reclined the gayest courtiers, the wild coterie that constituted Peter’s intimate circle of revellers. The center of the room was occupied by a crowd of dwarfs, of both sexes, some hideously and grotesquely deformed. They were in charge of a dwarf marshal who had eight assistants, all arrayed in gay uniform, bedizened with tinsel, and they were executing one of their weird dances, while at the upper end of the apartment, leaning back in his chair with a gloomy face, was the czar. After a moment’s observation, I understood the scene: there had been a marriage; two dwarfs had amused the audience by the mockery of such a wedding. Those unhappy little creatures were kept about the Russian court, its playthings and the objects of many a grim jest; the spies and eavesdroppers of rival factions; the tools and the dupes of the gay and the wicked; intimate with every intrigue, masters of every secret, and often dangerous in their hatred, as such misshapen creatures are likely to be; full of malice and all unkindness, betraying and betrayed; the most pitiful and the most miserable objects of that brilliant assemblage, and yet reckonedto be one of its sources of amusement; ministering now to the gloomy temper of a master whose evil spirit was upon him, for I saw, at a glance, that Peter was suffering from one of those seasons of depression that came over him like a cloud, and suggested an abnormal condition of mind in a man usually so forceful and full of easy good-humor, with all his violent passions. A great soul is isolated, and as the tempests sweep around the mountain’s loftiest peak, so also must storm and terror sweep sometimes over the spirit that has been set amid the rulers of the earth. As the dark hour came upon Saul, so also did it come upon the greatest Romanoff. He sat, shading his face with his hand, his eyes fixed gloomily on the dwarfs; two of the little creatures, gifted with singular beauty, were sitting at his feet, while the others had begun a country-dance, called by the GermansGrossvater, which Peter himself had learned when in his merry mood in the German quarter; but to-night no music could charm him into the mazes of the dance, and the revelry was subdued, for the courtier is quick to take his cue from the imperial temper. In the circle immediately about the czar, I saw Dolgoruky and Sheremetief, and, to my relief, at a little distance was Mentchikof. I was standing with the full length of thesalonbetween myself and the imperial party, and was scarcely noticed by the gay young nobles near me, exceptwhen one or two turned to stare at my plain riding-suit and at the mud upon my boots. The chamberlain who had brought me made his way slowly to the upper end of the apartment, and announced my presence to his Majesty. I was watching Peter narrowly, and saw him glance at the man with a frown, his face almost instantly convulsed by thatticwhich made his features, for the moment, terrible. He spoke a few words to the chamberlain, who withdrew a little way and waited while the czar turned his attention again to the dancers and I stood unnoticed by the door. I began to chafe under this treatment, for not only did it suggest delay, but it might indicate a possible affront to me as an ambassador, for Peter had openly called me an envoy of France, and, although I as openly disclaimed it, the position was awkward. If I resented the neglect, I would double and treble the difficulties of my situation and of M. de Lambert’s. However, at the end of a quarter of an hour the chamberlain returned to guide me through the throng to the czar. The dancing had ceased, and the courtiers mingled with the dwarfs while the wine flowed freely. It was difficult to walk through the crowded room without being rudely jostled, and once I nearly stumbled over a dwarf who was scrambling about on the floor after a jewel that had fallen from some chain. Peter was talking earnestly to Sheremetief, but as I approached, he dismissedthose immediately about him, and received me almost alone,—for the babel of tongues made it impossible to overhear a conversation carried on in a low tone. The expression of the czar’s face was still gloomy, and he greeted me with a certain hauteur that suggested a remembrance of our last meeting and his defeat at the hands of my wife. He measured me from head to foot, apparently noting every detail of my disordered dress and the pistols at my belt.
“You are welcome, M. l’Ambassadeur,” he said deliberately, “although you come booted and spurred and armed grimly for so festive an occasion.”
“I crave your Majesty’s pardon,” I replied; “the urgency of my errand must be my apology for this untimely and unseemly appearance.”
He looked at me with well-feigned surprise.
“Your errand is urgent, then, sir,” he remarked coolly; “in that case this is scarcely the time or place for it. However, the sooner it is heard, the sooner it is over.”
“Your Majesty’s permission is scarcely as gracious as I hoped to receive,” I said coldly, “but I am compelled to trespass upon your patience. One of my suite, M. de Lambert, has been missing since early morning, and all my efforts to discover him have been unavailing. I received his passports and intended to act upon them, in accordance with your Majesty’s wishes; but healmost immediately disappeared, and I fear that he has met with foul play.”
Peter listened to me with close attention, not by the movement of a muscle betraying any feeling upon the subject, and his dark eyes searching my face, which I strove to render as immovable and inscrutable as his own.
“This young man, M. de Lambert,” he said slowly, “is, I hear, something of a wild gallant; therefore, M. le Vicomte, it seems to my poor judgment that you make too much of a trifle. He is, doubtless, absent on some business of his own, and will shortly reappear. I see no reason for your apprehension of foul play.”
“Unhappily, your Majesty,” I replied boldly, “there are but too good grounds for such apprehensions. He has but lately recovered from a wound dealt by the hand of an assassin.”
The czar started slightly; it was apparent that he was ignorant of this occurrence.
“It seems strange, M. l’Ambassadeur,” he said, “that an assassin should attack one of your suite and you make no complaint to the authorities or to me.”
“M. de Lambert was not seriously injured, your Majesty,” I replied quietly, “and I did not desire to accuse a member of a family near your person.”
“Speak plainly, M. de Brousson,” Peter exclaimed; “who was the man?”
I knew that I was treading on delicate ground, but I delivered my blow calmly. “It was Yury Apraxin, the protégé of M. Zotof,” I said with deliberation.
The czar flushed a deep red, and for an instant his eyes shot fire. He recalled the scene at Mentchikof’s house, and for a moment, I believe, thought that I intended to insult him; then he controlled his passion and leaned towards me, clenching the arms of his chair with a grip that made the cords stand out upon his hands.
“What quarrel had he with M. de Lambert?” he asked in a low voice, but with an emphasis that was ominous.
I had assumed an air of innocence and candor. I looked straight back into his passionate eyes, which were like those of the untamed king of beasts.
“M. de Lambert has deeply admired M. Zotof’s beautiful niece, doing homage to her beauty and purity, as we all do, your Majesty,” I replied easily; “and M. Apraxin, having been betrothed to mademoiselle, resented M. de Lambert’s admiration for hisfiancée.”
The czar’s brow grew like a thunder-cloud; he knew nothing of Apraxin’s early betrothal, and I began to enjoy the situation keenly. He uttered a fierce exclamation, and I saw his lips twitch.
“Najine Zotof betrothed!” he said under his breath, and then added: “Upon my soul, M. l’Ambassadeur,I thank you for your tidings. It seems that my own people do not often speak truth to me. Apraxin—the marplot boy! Did your friend run him through for his pains?”
“No, your Majesty,” I replied quietly; “my man ran to M. de Lambert’s aid, and Apraxin fled like a caitiff.”
“Two Frenchmen, and yet he was not killed!” the czar exclaimed furiously; “where were their swords?”
“The night was dark, your Majesty, the ground slippery, and Frenchmen are not used to fight foes who strike in the back,” I said coolly.
Peter bit his lip. “You may bless your fortune that you are a foreigner, M. de Brousson,” he exclaimed with passion; “I have borne much from you. If you had been my subject, I would have had your head long since.”
“That belongs to the King of France,” I replied with composure, “and I trust it to your Majesty’s generosity.”
“The king my brother has to thank my forbearance that you carry it back to him,” he retorted tartly. “You are an old fox, M. l’Ambassadeur; but you always carry matters with a high hand.”
“Your Majesty compliments my wit too much,” I replied courteously; “but I crave now your permission to prosecute a thorough search for M. de Lambert.”
The czar made a gesture of impatience. “I amtired of the name,” he exclaimed; “prosecute your search by all means, and let me hear no more of him. He has his passports, let him use them; Moscow is no place for him.”
“Will your Majesty order one of your officers to furnish me with the means to continue my search?” I asked, pressing my point.
The czar frowned, and I saw that he hesitated. No doubt, well aware of M. de Lambert’s arrest, he found himself in an awkward situation. However, he called an attendant, and, scribbling a few lines on a paper, despatched him, and then turned to me. He had risen from his chair and stood there, among the gay costumes of his court, a massive figure in the uniform of a German ship-captain, without an ornament or an order.
“You will find an officer with the proper credentials at your disposal in the ante-room, M. l’Ambassadeur,” he said curtly; “use what speed you may. Find this Frenchman and send him across the border, or it may be necessary for me to hasten his departure;” and with these words he turned his back upon me, and, walking through the throng of dwarfs, who fell back at his approach until he had a wide path across thesalon, he passed out and closed the door. A chill fell upon the assemblage, and men stared at me as if I were some ill-omened visitor. I found myself the center of observation as I made my way to the entrance by which I had come, and went out unaccosted byany one, which made me suspect that the court knew something of the seizure of my friend, and that there was peril. I was not reassured, and had accomplished nothing. I hurried through the ante-rooms to the farther one, where I found an officer of the Preobrazhensky regiment waiting for me, and, for a moment, thought that foul play was intended; but he addressed me with deference and showed his orders to obey my instructions. We went out together, and began a tedious and of course fruitless search for M. de Lambert. It was an easy matter for the imperial officer to take me to every spot but the right one, and I felt that I would have given much to read the lines that the czar had scribbled upon that slip of paper. A weary search it was, from place to place; the Russian always courteous, inscrutable, unruffled, and ignorant—as only a man can be whose business it is to be sublimely stupid.