CHAPTER XXII.AN INTERVAL OF SUSPENSE.
Assoon as Apraxin was secured, I went to the palace of Mentchikof, knowing that I had no time to lose; my captive’s attendant would bear the tidings of his seizure to his uncle, and there would be some decisive action at once, on one side or the other. The czar’s feeling toward Apraxin might tie Zotof’s hands for the moment, but it was probable that the servant had recognized mademoiselle and would report her presence to her uncle. I reached Mentchikof’s house at an hour when he was not receiving visitors, but after a little parley with the porter, was admitted and only waited a few minutes in the ante-room before being summoned to the favorite’s presence. He had just risen, and he received me in his own apartment, which was as luxurious as the bed-chamber of an emperor. He had heard enough of my conversation with the czar on the previous evening to be aware of my troubles, and was therefore prepared to listen to my complaint. I told him briefly of the course of events and of the successful capture of Apraxin. I was tolerably frank with him,knowing that I needed both his good-will and his assistance, for he was the only one on whom I could rely for any material aid. I concealed only the presence of Najine, for I was anxious to leave her out of the affair and, if possible, to hide the fact that she was at my lodgings. Mentchikof listened to me with keen attention, and I saw, at once, that he was striving to see some way out of the labyrinth. Mademoiselle’s headstrong conduct and her open aversion to the czar’s suit were both points in our favor, for Peter was one to resent keenly the ridicule that they naturally threw upon his course.
“It is a delicate matter, M. le Maréchal,” Mentchikof remarked thoughtfully. “The czar has undoubtedly imprisoned M. de Lambert. He probably ordered his arrest in one of those moments of ungovernable passion when he takes little account of what he does, but, having taken this rash action, it is difficult for him to recede from it.”
“That is true, monsieur,” I replied gravely; “but such action involves an offence to France, and that is a point that his Majesty will do well to consider.”
Mentchikof, who was, before all else, a Russian, resented my tone at once.
“You know very well, M. de Brousson,” he said haughtily, “that the czar my master is too proud and passionate a man to count the costs, even if Russia had cause to fear.”
I did not desire to offend him, and let his reply pass unnoticed.
“His Majesty should however consider the injustice, M. Mentchikof,” I said courteously. “M. de Lambert is an innocent man, and as a foreigner has a claim upon your forbearance.”
“I recognize the justice of what you say, M. l’Ambassadeur,” he replied calmly; “but the czar is human, and M. de Lambert has offended him. Perhaps, you or I in like case would be even less merciful.”
I smiled. “That may be, monsieur,” I said, “but you or I would seek redress with our swords. Prison walls are safe, but it seems a poor revenge.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “A safe one, M. de Brousson,” he replied coolly; “a sword-thrust and six feet of earth are cold satisfaction for a man in love.”
“That is true,” I said, smiling; “but prison walls are equally hard for M. de Lambert, therefore I crave your assistance to liberate him. I had thought of taking Apraxin to the czar and demanding my friend’s release from the custody into which Apraxin has betrayed him.”
“Taking the ground that his Majesty is ignorant of the conduct of his guards?” Mentchikof asked. “I see, monsieur. That is the only possible way of touching the matter. I have no doubt that the czar is ignorant of Apraxin’s share in it, but we cannot tell what effect it would have upon him.The czar despises Apraxin, but he may, for the time, pass that over. On the other hand, the introduction of the fellow’s name may bring forth a burst of passion that might end in the reverse of your wishes. And again, Apraxin may eventually injure the cause of Zotof and of—his niece.”
“I have foreseen all that, monsieur,” I replied gravely, “yet it seems the only hope. It is more probable that the czar will be seized with disgust of the whole affair when he finds that Apraxin regards Najine as his betrothed, and betrayed M. de Lambert to get rid of a successful rival.”
Mentchikof rose, and walked up and down the room for a few moments, thinking deeply. The matter was close to his heart: it involved his own hold upon the affections of his master; it threatened the destruction of some of his dearest hopes and schemes. I watched him keenly, wondering a little what thoughts were in his mind,—if he was picturing his own success or his defeat; if he saw before him the triumph of his rivals, the obscurity of Catherine Shavronsky, and his own ruin, for the loss of favor would mean the total collapse of his fortunes. He was an extravagant man, and his debts were colossal, while his credit was tottering at the caprice of the czar’s favor. His hold upon Peter’s affections was strong, his influence had been almost unbounded; but the favorite of royalty keeps his place by but feeble tenure, and if the czar followed the impulse of his passion for mademoiselle,a new party would inevitably come into power, and Mentchikof’s arrogance would be remembered and revenged. I regarded him with interest. A man richly endowed in person and in mental qualities; handsome, brave, magnetic; possessed of a winning address and a pungent wit, and withal, a gallant soldier and a shrewd statesman,—he was a man to captivate and hold the fancy of almost any one who approached him, and I did not condemn Daria Arsenief for her infatuation; all the court knew that she was devoted to Alexander Mentchikof, and I had heard it said that Peter desired that he should marry her, while he was yet either unwilling or not ready to comply with his master’s wishes. He paced the room now for five minutes or more, and I did not interrupt his revery, willing to allow him full time to mature his own plans; but before he spoke again, a little page brought him a message from Mademoiselle Shavronsky, asking if she might join us, as she desired to see the Vicomte de Brousson. For an instant Mentchikof looked annoyed, and then, recovering himself, sent for her to appear. When the page reared with his message, he looked at me and smiled.
“Catherine must needs manage this herself,” he said dryly; “womanlike, she believes that she can always find the end of the tangled skein.”
“A woman’s wit is keen,” I replied, “and it may be that she will see a way that we cannot discover.”
“It may be,” he rejoined with a shrug; “but she has already done mischief enough to her own affairs, and yet she is a clever woman—a woman worthy to rule,” he added to himself.
As he spoke, the door opened and Catherine Shavronsky came in, attended only by a little Russian girl. Catherine’s face was pale, but more composed than when I had last seen her, and she responded to my greeting graciously. She was attired in some plain dark robe, and her figure looked less massive than usual, and there was something almost girlish in the simple earnestness of her manner.
“You have tidings, M. le Maréchal,” she said directly; “I trust that they are better than the last. Is M. de Lambert at liberty?”
I shook my head.
“What?” she exclaimed, “in prison still? Has no one appealed to the czar?”
Mentchikof cut short her inquiries by informing her briefly of my errand and my failures and successes. She listened with impatience, evidently regarding us both as laggards, and she was restless to achieve some better fortune. When he had finished speaking, she turned upon me suddenly with a searching look.
“Where is Najine Zotof?” she asked sharply.
For the moment I was taken by surprise and returned her look blankly. I had no desire to communicate to her mademoiselle’s hiding-place.She read me through and through with those keen dark eyes of hers, and her full lips curled with a contemptuous smile.
“Do not try to deceive me, M. l’Ambassadeur,” she said dryly; “the fine-spun excuses of the court will not pass with me. You know where mademoiselle is; why does she not come forward and plead for her lover herself? If I were M. de Lambert, I would not value such faint-hearted loyalty.”
“You take a strong view, mademoiselle,” I replied gravely; “it is a difficult point to decide whether or not Mademoiselle Zotof’s presence would injure her cause.”
“Try it,” she exclaimed warmly. “I know the czar. She can do more than fifty diplomats for her lover. I tell you frankly, M. le Vicomte, that if I were in mademoiselle’s place I would appeal to his Majesty at once. I would not lose a moment. I would trust to his generosity—his natural kindness. His Majesty is always approachable, and to no one does simple devotion appeal more strongly. He is the czar, but he is also human.”
Mentchikof had listened in silence, observing her animated features, impressed no doubt, as much as I was, by the impetuosity of her manner. When she ceased speaking, he turned to me gravely.
“Catherine is right,” he said; “the czar is more likely to show mercy to Mademoiselle Zotof thanto M. de Lambert—and you could not make such an appeal. Najine can do so, and it may help in a hundred ways;” and he looked at me with a meaning smile.
And I, remembering his threat of a few weeks ago, stood irresolute. Could I trust these two, or was it a scheme to injure mademoiselle? They certainly would not plan to place her in the czar’s way if they believed that it would encourage his passion for her; but what did they intend? I looked at the two faces, and for the time felt thoroughly at sea. Their motives were apparently innocent, but how far could I trust Mentchikof? How far Catherine? Ah, that was the question! Unable to decide at the moment, I temporized.
“And how could she make this appeal?” I inquired calmly, glancing from one to the other.
“She can go direct to the palace and make the petition when the czar gives audience to all complainants,” Mentchikof replied. “It would be ill-advised for her to make it in private; his Majesty might easily put such an appeal aside, but a public one would attract attention and—in a word, you understand, M. l’Ambassadeur, he has no real reason to keep a member of your suite in prison.”
“To be frank, M. Mentchikof,” I said, “your plan strikes me as feasible; but, after all, it is like playing at dice, and it is a throw in the dark.”
Catherine had been silent for a little time, but now interrupted us again.
“I have a scheme, Alexander,” she said with excitement; “let her come here to-night!”
“True!” he exclaimed, “that would be best. The czar comes here to-night,” he added to me, “for the first time for weeks. Let mademoiselle make her petition to him; she will have the better opportunity, for Zotof will not come.”
I saw the advantages of the opportunity, but I saw also some perils, and was not eager to acquiesce. Mentchikof read my hesitation and smiled.
“M. l’Ambassadeur,” he said graciously, “I pledge you my word, as a soldier and a gentleman, that Mademoiselle Zotof shall be safe in my house. Not even his Majesty shall violate my hospitality.”
I bowed gravely. “I thank you, monsieur,” I replied with dignity, “for the assurance. I will communicate with mademoiselle: I am, not unnaturally, reluctant to assume the responsibility. The young lady is the niece of Zotof, and I have no right to interfere with her actions; but my anxiety for M. de Lambert is so keen that I shall not lose the opportunity to appeal to her for assistance.”
“You will do well, M. l’Ambassadeur,” he replied, with a reflection of my dignified courtesy, “and I trust that she will find the czar’s humor propitious.”
“I trust so,” I replied quietly, “for I shouldregret extremely being forced to call upon my government to take cognizance of this matter,—an action which will be inevitable if I cannot obtain M. de Lambert’s release in a short time.”
Mentchikof’s cheek flushed; he resented instantly the covert thrust, but restrained his temper.
“We will hope for a happy issue, M. de Brousson,” he replied haughtily, “and I doubt not that we shall succeed, if Mademoiselle Zotof is sincere in her desire to release her lover.”
“Do not doubt her sincerity, monsieur,” I returned calmly, “and I will do my best to achieve a happy result, and will communicate with mademoiselle as soon as possible;” and with a few more formal words, I withdrew.
Leaving the apartment, I walked slowly down the longsalonbeyond, and had my hand on the door at the farther end, when I heard the rustle of a woman’s skirt behind me, and turned to find Catherine Shavronsky at my elbow. She had never looked more charming; her face, though pale, was animated, and a roguish smile curved her beautiful lips and kindled the fire in her large dark eyes. She stopped a little way from me, and held up her finger with a gesture of mock rebuke.
“Alas, M. l’Ambassadeur!” she said archly, “how will you be able to find mademoiselle? The czar cannot find her, Madame Zotof cannot find her, and you—you do not know where she is.How can your message reach her? Ah, M. le Vicomte—M. le Vicomte!”
She stood there laughing, and shaking her finger at me. I made her a profound bow.
“Mademoiselle,” I replied, smiling, “you forget for whom she will be summoned. Love will find out the way!”
And with that I went out at the door; but she came and stood upon the threshold, and called to me as I went down the corridor.
“That cannot be, M. l’Ambassadeur,” she cried, “for they say that love is blind!”