"Boris lifted his kicking legs and slid them over the bulwark."Page210.
"Boris lifted his kicking legs and slid them over the bulwark."Page210.
For a moment Peter and the crowd of spectators thought that it was all up with the chances of poor Boris, and looked over the side to see him go splashing into the water beneath.
But Boris was far from being beaten yet. He laid hold of a rope which formed part of the rigging of the ship, and to this he clung so tightly that all the efforts of the mighty Dutchman could not compel him to relax his hold. Suddenly, however, he did relax his hold, and this just as Koog gave so violent a pull that when the resistance unexpectedly failed, he staggered backwards. At the same moment, Boris twisted in his arms, and feeling the ground once more with his feet, pushed so vigorously at his antagonist that Otto fell violently backwards with Boris on the top of him. They both rolled about for many minutes, first one being uppermost and then the other, until by mutual consent they both rose to their feet in order to start fair once more; and thus ended the first round.
Then began the final stage of the contest. Three times Boris forced Koog to the bulwark, but couldget him no further; and twice the bear-hunter was himself well-nigh hoisted over the side. Then, at his fourth attempt, Boris drove Koog backwards till his back touched the bulwark; there, closing with him, with a desperate effort he lifted the ponderous Dutchman till Koog sat upon the rail. Then Otto, in desperation, hitched one foot around an iron stay which stood up against the bulwark, and pressed forward with all his weight and strength upon the champion of Russia, who, in his turn, did all that lay in his power to force the Dutchman backwards; and so the pair remained for upwards of a minute, straining, and hissing, and panting, and sweating, while the fate of Koog hung in the balance.
Then suddenly Boris relaxed, for an instant, his pressure upon Otto's shoulders, though without losing his grip. The strain removed, Koog's body fell forwards, while his leg flew up, having released itself from the stay. Instantly Boris stooped, and with one hand laid hold of the Dutchman's baggy trouser leg, while with the other he continued his pressure upon the shoulder. Backwards went the Netherlander, slowly but surely; his balance was lost, and so, for him, was the fight. Deftly Boris lifted his kicking legs and slid them over the bulwark, bending them back overthe body, which was now in full retreat towards the water, and in an instant the big man splashed into the waves and the muddy Thames closed over his head. So fatigued was the Dutchman with his exertions that he could barely keep afloat, and was quite unable to swim a stroke; he floated away gasping and sputtering, and the crew of a neighbouring vessel fished him out with a boat-hook and ropes.
Great was the joy of the Tsar over this victory of his champion. Peter hoisted Boris upon his own shoulders, and carried him round and round the ship, amid the cheers and laughter of many spectators, not only on board theZuyder Zee, but also upon many other vessels anchored near her.
After this triumph, the Tsar was still more anxious to pit his Russian champion against those of other nationalities, and involved poor Boris in many defeats by reason of this passion. As an instance, a coal miner from Cumberland, and a champion wrestler of that county, was hunted up by the Tsar and pitted against Boris for a match. In the skilled hands of this man, poor, untutored Boris was as a child in arms. The Cumbrian threw him again and again, adopting at each attempt a new device of the many known to him, and every one of them sufficient totopple over the Russian like a nine-pin. Boris, and Peter also, were to learn that mere strength and activity were insufficient to cope with equal, or even inferior strength, scientifically exercised. But in spite of this, Boris, after having fallen heavily six times, ended the fight in a manner unexpected by his adversary, and little to his taste. The match took place on the deck of a collier, and at the seventh round Boris, suddenly bending before his antagonist could lay hold of him, caught the Cumbrian champion by the knees, and lifting him by a tremendous effort, sent him flying over his shoulder, and over the side of the ship also, into mid-river, where the poor man would have been drowned had not Boris himself gone to his assistance.
Peter gave the Cumbrian champion a present in money, and offered him handsome wages to come over to his country and teach the Russians to wrestle. But the man of Cumberland looked knowingly at the Tsar, and refused the offer; he would rather stay, he said, in a country "where men did not eat their own kind," even though at a lower rate of wages. In vain the Tsar assured him that in Russia men are not cannibals; the sturdy north countryman only looked the more knowing, and the negotiations ended where they began.
Then, again, Boris was required to run races with sundry champions, who easily defeated him, as was natural; though he held his own in jumping. At swimming, however, even the best of his English competitors were obliged to take a second place, for Boris excelled any who were pitted against him, especially in the longer races.
In the noble science of self-defence Boris, though untutored, surprised every one by his aptitude. It was not that he was skilled either in defence or in attack; but his eye was good and his natural guard excellent, while his enemies, or rather antagonists, declared that it was one of the most disagreeable things in the world to receive a blow straight from the Russian's shoulder.
Thus, though often worsted in the competitions wherein, by the desire of the Tsar, he tried his strength and agility against the best foreign exponents, Boris on the whole held his own against all comers, and the Tsar declared himself well satisfied with his faithful bear-hunter, who had upheld, to the best of his ability, the claim of far-away Muscovy to compete with the rest of the world in trials of strength and pluck and endurance. It was, indeed, a matter of no little pleasure and encouragement toPeter to find that he was able to produce a picked man who had proved himself as good as, and sometimes better than, the picked men of other nationalities. The circumstance led him to hope that his Russians, when instructed by qualified tutors, would show themselves worthy to take their proper place in Europe, and to hold their own whether on the battle-field or on board ship, as he would assuredly call upon them to do ere many years were past.
Besides all this, Peter saw and did much, during his stay in London, with which our bear-hunter was not so immediately connected; but for a short account of his doings and seeings among our forefathers in this merry land of England, I must refer my readers to the following chapter.
To Admiral Carmarthen, of the British Navy, Peter of Russia was indebted for one of the supremest pleasures of his life. This was a review, or naval sham-fight, which the admiral organized for the Tsar's benefit at Spithead. We can imagine how Peter, whose heart was so set at this time upon ships and all matters connected with the sea and maritime affairs, must have gazed in rapture and delight at the beautiful battle-ships that manœuvred before his eyes; how he must have knit his strong face, and bent his eagle glance which nothing ever escaped, upon each turn and evolution of the vessels, and watched each manœuvre, drinking in for his future guidance the reason for every movement made and the probable result, had this been actual warfare, of every gun fired. There is no doubt that the youngautocrat learned much from this memorable scene, and laid to heart many hints to be utilized afterwards when he himself, in command of a Russian fleet, engaged and overcame a stronger fleet of the King of Sweden.
Peter's delight with the day's entertainment may be gauged by his conversation, when it was ended, with Admiral Carmarthen. "Admiral," he said, "you are a lucky man! I would rather be the admiral of a British fleet such as this than the Tsar of all the Russias!"
Probably Peter's excited state of mind was responsible for this somewhat exaggerated manner of expressing his satisfaction; but there is no doubt that his enthusiasm and delight were perfectly sincere at the time. Boris was present also, and his delight was no less than that of his master. He, too, felt that it must indeed be a delightful position to be in command of so magnificent a sea-army as this.
"Boris, Boris!" said Peter, as the two tall men stood side by side watching the beautiful spectacle, "shall I ever own a fleet like this, and a good seaport to keep it in?"
"That depends upon your Majesty," said Boris. "Every one knows that Peter Alexeyevitch will performanything to which he puts his hand and sets his heart!"
"Ah, Boris," said the Tsar, "I thought so too before we left Russia; but I am humbler now! Oh, for the sea, my Bear-eater—the sea! that is what we must fight for and live for. Our poor Russia is cramped and stifled for want of windows; we must break through her walls, Boris, and that as quickly as possible. I can build a fleet, there is no fear of that. If we had but a hundredth part of the seaboard that these happy Britons possess, I should be blessed indeed!"
"Never fear, your Majesty; we shall have seaports yet!" said Boris, to whom the matter presented no difficulty whatever, for did not Peter desire it?
As the Tsar and his henchman walked through the streets of London, they attracted considerable attention by reason both of their size and of the conduct of Peter, whose actions were at times very eccentric. He would stop people in the street, in order to ask questions as to the make of their clothes and hats and watch-chains. Once he seized the wig of a passing pedestrian, to that individual's surprise and alarm, who thought he had to deal with agigantic lunatic. Peter carefully examined the wig, which was of a new-fashioned shape and did not please him, gave a short laugh and a grunt of disgust, and clapped it back upon the man's head so violently that the unfortunate fellow nearly fell forward upon his nose. He would enter jewellers' and other shops, and question the artificers very minutely as to their trade and craft, frequently ending the conversation by inviting the shopman to remove his business to Moscow, where he should be assured of a fine trade among Peter's subjects. Sometimes these offers were accepted, and numbers of goldsmiths, blacksmiths, gunsmiths, joiners, and other skilled workmen were prevailed upon to travel to the far north, where they were subsequently well treated and made fortunes for themselves, while they were useful in teaching their crafts to the Russian people.
Couriers frequently passed between London and Moscow, and through their good offices Boris was able to keep up a constant communication with his friend Nancy. The hunter was no great hand at letter writing, though he had long since learned the arts of reading and writing, of which of course he had been ignorant while still the bear-hunter of Dubinka. In one of his epistles Boris wrote tothis effect, the letter being partly in English and partly in Russian:—
"His Majesty is exceedingly pleased with this city [London], wherein are more people than would fill a score of Moscows. The people are kind and hospitable, but somewhat boastful, and think but little of the Russians. His Majesty deigns to take his pleasure in causing me to wrestle and otherwise contend with great wrestlers and swimmers and fighters of the English. In these matters there are some experter than I, excepting in swimming. I have seen your friends and delivered your letters and packages, wherewith all were greatly pleased. Your friends made much of me, far more than I deserve. For their kindness I am indebted to you, and also for many good words spoken of me in your letters, portions of which they read to me.
"The Tsar and I had an adventure last night which might have ended in bloodshed, but ended actually only in laughter; for we were fallen upon by robbers, of whom there were five, in an outlying, lonely part named Hampstead. The robbers surprised us in the midst of this place, and would, no doubt, have cut our throats, but that his Majesty and I, being armed with thick oaken sticks, kept them at bay, and inprocess of time banged two of them on the head. The rest his Majesty, with some assistance from me, pitched into a small pond covered with green ooze, whence they issued half-drowned, and ran to their homes."
Nancy, on her part, told all the Moscow news and the progress of the ship-building throughout the country, of which she heard much talk, for every one spoke of it. Nancy also mentioned that many reports were being disseminated in Moscow by the priest party to the effect that the Tsar had been drowned on his way to England. Others said that he had been captured by the Queen of Sweden, placed in a barrel, and rolled into the sea. The motive of these reports was obvious. If Peter were dead, his widow, or his brother, or his son would be proclaimed head of the realm, and in any case his policy would be reversed; foreigners would be sent out of the country, and Russia given back to the Russians. It may be mentioned in this connection that so deeply was the belief in Peter's death at this time rooted in the minds of hundreds among the lower classes, both in Moscow and throughout the country, that to their dying day many of these believed that the man who returned eventually from abroad, and assumed the government of the realm,though he certainly resembled Peter, was an impostor and a pretender, and that the real Tsar lay drowned at the bottom of the North Sea.
During his stay in London, Peter had many opportunities of conversation with all classes of the subjects of William III. He visited country houses, where he startled the sober rural folks by the eccentricity of his manners—loving to amuse himself in rough and barbarous ways, such as causing Boris to wheel him, afterwards himself wheeling Boris, in a barrow through a massive holly hedge at Saye's Court. The Tsar could not endure the ways of refinement and luxury, and preferred to sleep on the floor rather than in a grand bed, and loved to drink quantities of English beer, which he condescended to admire.
Boris thought little of England from the point of view of the hunter. There were no woods, he said, fit to hide a bear or a wolf; as for hunting the fox, it was poor sport. The country was well enough, but not in his line; he preferred the broad forests of his native land, and the excitement and danger of hunting big game. In a word, Boris was well tired of England when, at the end of a few months, Peter declared that he had seen enough, and would nowdepart homewards, taking Vienna on the way, and travelling slowly in order to see as much as possible of every country visited.
The English king made Peter the most acceptable of presents at parting, in the shape of a small frigate of twenty-four guns. The delight of the Tsar in his new possession was immense, and his return voyage to Holland was made aboard of this vessel. But Peter, too, desired to offer a memento of his visit to the hospitable British sovereign, and did so in a characteristic manner; for, while bidding William farewell, he pressed into his hand a small object wrapped in a piece of dirty brown paper, which he took out of his waistcoat pocket. This proved to be a magnificent ruby, and was valued afterwards at ten thousand pounds.
So the Tsar and Boris and the rest took ship and set sail for Holland in the frigate which the English king had presented to his Russian brother. And that voyage came well-nigh to being the last that any of the party were to undertake; for a terrific storm arose in the North Sea, and for a day or two they were uncertain whether they should live or die. The Tsar's suite were greatly concerned at their master's danger, knowing well that the destiny ofRussia was kept by this man in the hollow of his hand. But Peter himself professed to have perfect confidence in the happy outcome of the voyage; he inquired of his long-visaged companions whether they had ever heard of a Tsar of Russia being drowned in the North Sea? All admitted that they certainly never had read of such a disaster! "Very well then," said Peter; "I don't intend to be the first to set the example!" Whereupon the suite took heart of grace, and trusted to the good luck of the Tsar to pull them through, which it did; for the good ship sailed safely into port, and was then sent round to Archangel, while the Tsar and his embassy continued their journey by land, and in due course arrived at Vienna.
Here Peter had intended to stay some little while, in order to learn whatever the Austrians might have to teach him; but disquieting news came from Moscow, which compelled him to give up the contemplated visit, and to make all the haste he could towards his own capital. So bad was the news, indeed, that the Tsar was at his blackest and most savage during the whole of the hurried journey home, and those pleased him best who talked least, and left him most alone to his gloomy thoughts.Like a storm-cloud that rushes over the face of the sky, the angry Tsar flew over the hundreds of miles that lay between him and the objects of his wrath; and like the piled-up masses of black vapour that burst and vomit forth water and lightning, so burst the anger of Peter upon those who had vexed him, when, a very few days after receiving the news, he dashed into Moscow with a few attendants only, the rest following as quickly as they could.
The purport of the letter received by Peter in Vienna was certainly disquieting enough, for the epistle contained an account of a military revolt, and of a march upon the capital by the Streltsi. It appeared that these regiments, ever on the watch for opportunities of interfering in existing affairs, had sent a deputation to Moscow to inquire into the truth of the rumours as to the absence or death of the Tsar, and to demand of the authorities orders for the immediate return of all the Streltsi regiments to Moscow. Their wives and families were still in the capital, and they had been absent long enough at Azof and elsewhere. Besides, political affairs demanded their presence in the capital.
The deputation were unable to obtain the ear of the authorities, and were dismissed with scant ceremonyfrom Moscow—very loath to leave the city, and extremely angry with those who would not listen to their grievances.
Meanwhile the main body of the Streltsi had become impatient, and sent word that, if not summoned to Moscow in compliance with their request, they intended to come without waiting for an invitation.
It was at this stage of affairs that letters were despatched to the Tsar at Vienna, summoning him to his capital, which was menaced by a descent upon it by the dissatisfied Streltsi regiments.
Meanwhile, however, the two generals, Schéin and Gordon, whom Peter had left at the head of military affairs in his absence, proceeded wisely to take the bull by the horns. They prepared a moderate force, selected from the new regiments, and marched towards the seat of disturbance.
Before they had gone very far they met emissaries from the Streltsi, who informed them that the massed regiments of that body were in full march upon Moscow, with intent to chase the foreigner from the soil of holy Russia; to place the Grand-Duchess Sophia, late regent, upon the throne in lieu of the Tsar Peter, who, they had heard, was dead; and torestore the oldrégimeand the good old days of a Streltsi-dominated Moscow, without a foreigner in the place to set everything upside down and worry the souls of the priests.
Gordon sent these men back with a message to their comrades to get home as quickly as might be to their quarters, and there to pray Heaven to so rule the heart of the Tsar Peter (who was quite alive enough to cut the throat of every Streletz in Russia), that he might be led to look with indulgence upon their foolish imaginings, and forgive them in consideration of their instant and complete submission, tendered from their barracks.
But the Streltsi would not believe the words of Gordon, and declared that they must and would come to Moscow in order to see with their own eyes that all was well with the Tsar and the country.
Thereupon Gordon and Schéin met these misguided men half way as they marched upon Moscow. The Streltsi would not surrender at demand, and therefore a volley was fired over their heads. This set the brave fellows running, which proved that their courage was scarcely equal to the noise they made in the world. Three thousand of them were taken prisoners and brought to Moscow; the rest werepermitted to escape and return to their own quarters.
Such was the state of affairs when the enraged young Tsar dashed into Moscow in his angriest and blackest mood, and with his mind set upon making a terrible example of this body of men, who had been a thorn in the flesh to him since his first experience of their eccentricities, at the age of ten.
How he carried out his intentions, and the bearing which this affair had upon the career of our bear-hunter, shall be treated of in the following chapter.
The page of the history of Peter of Russia which I must now briefly refer to is stained and blurred with the records of ferocity and brutality, and I am sure my readers will thank me if I give as cursory an account of the Tsar's terrible mood of cruelty as is barely necessary for the thread of my own tale. This is the blackest period of Peter's life, if we except perhaps his persecution in later years of the unfortunate Grand-Duke Alexis, his utterly unworthy son; and for those who are sincere admirers of the genius and self-denial of the great Tsar, and of his many remarkable and wonderful gifts and graces of mind and disposition, the record of his treatment of the Streltsi at this time affords extremely unpleasant reading.
Peter's first step was to form a court of inquiry, orinquisition, on a gigantic scale. For many weeks this court continued its labours of investigation, examining the captured soldiers and officers at great length and with extreme persistency, in the hope of extracting from them minute details of the conspiracy which had culminated in the revolt and march upon Moscow. The object of the Tsar was to obtain the names of all those connected with the plot who were outside the ranks of the Streltsi, and more especially to discover proof of the participation of his sister Sophia, the late regent, in the affair.
To this end horrible tortures by scourge and fire were daily inflicted upon the unfortunate Streltsi, who very soon confessed all they knew, which was the very simple fact that the priests had persuaded them that Peter was dead, and that they had therefore determined to come to Moscow in order to request Sophia, the Grand-Duchess, to take in hand measures for the legal succession to the throne. Also, they were anxious to see their wives and families, from whom they had been, as they imagined, unfairly separated. Not a man among them, either by torture or of free will, could be made to say that the Grand-Duchess had stirred up or in any way encouraged the rising. They had, indeed, brought a letter for Sophia,begging her to act as regent and to reinstate themselves in Moscow, dismissing the foreigners and disbanding the new regiments; but Sophia herself had known nothing of the letter or of their intentions.
The Grand-Duchess and those around her were exhaustively examined, though not by torture, as to the truth of these statements; and the investigators could find no reason to believe that it was otherwise than as declared by the Streltsi.
Foiled in his attempt to dig down to the roots of this matter, but unconvinced that his sister and others were innocent, Peter then proceeded to wreak his vengeance upon the Streltsi themselves. The Tsar was determined that this festering sore in the side of Russia should be healed once for all. The Streltsi, if allowed to remain in their old strength and numbers, and with their traditions of privilege and license of interference undisturbed, must for ever be a fruitful source of disturbance, and an element of danger to the state. They must be exterminated, root and branch, as an institution. But first these ringleaders must be dealt with; and here Peter determined to make a terrible example. Nearly two thousand of the unfortunate prisoners, together with a number of priests who were proved to have been implicated inthe rising, were put to death in the streets of the city. One man was left hanging close to the window of the Grand-Duchess Sophia, holding in his dead hand the letter which the Streltsi had intended to present to her, in order to show Peter's half-sister how little he believed in her protestations of innocence.
It is not my intention to enter into any details of the horrors of this time, but one circumstance must be mentioned in connection with all this brutality and bloodshed, because it bears upon the career of our friend Boris, who was at this time forced into taking a step which was pregnant with changes in his life and prospects.
The Tsar, lost in these dark days of vengeance and brutality to all sense of propriety and moderation, decreed that his nobles and favourites should all take a hand in the barbarities being enacted—should, in a word, assist in the death of the mutineers. Some of Peter's intimates, either brutal enough to enjoy the work or else anxious to please the Tsar, cheerfully consented to do as he had requested them. Others protested, and with tears besought his Majesty to exempt them from so unworthy a duty. But the maddened young autocrat was firm, and insisted upon the carrying out of his commands.
What misguided motive Peter can have had for this outrageous piece of brutality it is impossible to determine; but since he never acted without motive of some kind, it is charitable to suppose that he believed he fulfilled some subtle purpose in commanding these men to do his savage will. Perhaps he desired to impress upon his favourites the awful consequences of treason to his person, by means of an object lesson which would linger in their minds as long as they lived, and thus effectually deter them from ever entertaining the idea of disobedience. It was a terrible lesson, whether required or not, and we may safely suppose that no man who was concerned in those scenes of violence and cruelty ever forgot the experience. The Streltsi behaved with exemplary bravery, and laughed, and sang soldier-songs, and prayed aloud upon the scaffold, until death stilled their tongues.
But there was one man who neither at the request nor at the command of the Tsar would take a hand in the horrors of the day, and that man was Boris. Among the captured and condemned Streltsi were several members of the hunter's old regiment (which had revolted with the rest), one or two of whom had in former days crossed swords with Boris on a memorableoccasion; indeed, two of them were of the party who had lurked in the dusk of the Moscow street-corner in order to assassinate him.
One morning, when Boris paid his usual visit to the cabinet of the Tsar to hear his Majesty's commands for the day, he found the latter pacing rapidly up and down the apartment, black and gloomy, as he ever was at this time. None had ever known the Tsar's savage mood to last for so long as it had continued on this occasion. Since the day when, in Vienna, the letter of Gordon had been brought to him, the "black dog" had sat upon his Majesty's shoulder, and there had been no gleam of even transient sunshine to dispel the clouds that overcast his soul. Peter was not himself. He had been worked up by his passion into a condition of mind in which his own intimate friends failed to recognize their rough but ever kind and indulgent master.
At this present moment Boris could plainly see that rage had full possession of his Majesty's spirit. He took no notice of him beyond glaring fiercely at him as he entered, and said no word of greeting. Boris had been bitterly affected lately, not because of Peter's neglect of himself—for that, he knew, would mend with brighter days—but because the dreadfulsavagery which the Tsar had shown at this time revealed his beloved master in a character which the hunter had not seen before; a revelation which filled him with a shocked sense of pain and disappointment very hard to bear.
Peter continued to stride up and down the room, muttering to himself, and spoiling the rugged beauty of his features by twisting them into contortions and grimaces as the passion worked within his soul. At last he stopped. Then he raised his eyes and saw the hunter, who lingered near the door.
"Ah! it's you, is it?" he said. "It is as well you have come, for I have special work for you to-day. There are some old friends of yours, I find, among these accursed ones, the Streltsi prisoners."
The heart of Boris sank, for he guessed what was coming; many of the Tsar's intimates having already been told off to do his savage will, and he knew that his turn was come.
"I have reflected that it would be only fair," continued the Tsar, "to allow you the privilege of paying off old scores. Since these men are sentenced to death, there is none who could so fitly carry out the sentence as yourself."
"Your Majesty must excuse me," said Boris, whowas more of the athlete and soldier than the orator; "I am an officer, not an executioner."
The Tsar's face worked. He glared savagely at Boris for the space of half a minute; then he laughed, but not in his old hearty way.
"You are a bold man, whatever else you may be," he said. "Now listen. It is my desire that you take this axe"—here his Majesty produced a workman's hatchet from a grim pile beside his table—"and with it proceed to that corner of the Uspensky where these men or others of the same regiment once attempted your life. There you will find a block already erected, and upon that block you shall execute these three men—Michael Orlof, Vladimir Donskoi, Feodor Latinski." The Tsar read these names from a slip of paper which he took from his table.
But Boris still preserved a bold front. He raised himself to his full height, looking very proud and very handsome, and almost as big as the Tsar himself, who appeared somewhat bent and borne down by the evil days and more evil passions which had fallen upon him.
"I have told your Majesty I am no executioner," repeated the hunter, regardless of the passion of the Tsar. "Command me to fight these men, all three atonce if you will, with the sword, and I will obey your bidding this very hour, and your Majesty knows enough of me to accept my promise that not one of them shall remain alive; but as for beheading them in cold blood with yonder axe, I cannot and I will not do the deed."
Boris felt that in taking this bold course he was probably, in the Tsar's present humour, signing his own death-warrant; yet he knew also that he would sooner die than do this detestable thing that Peter would have of him.
The Tsar bit his lip till the blood showed red on the white. "Boris Ivanitch, I entreat you," he muttered, "do not anger me more. By the mercy of Heaven, I know not myself at this time. I repeat to you that I am to be obeyed. Take this axe and do my bidding—go!"
But Boris stood straight and firm, and looked the Tsar boldly in the eyes. His blood was up and his stubborn spirit was in arms. He seized the axe which Peter held out to him and flung it crashing to the farthest end of the room.
"No," he said, quietly but with firm lips and erect form, "I am not a slave. I love your Majesty, but your way this day is not God's way. Not even theTsar shall force me into doing this ungodly and detestable deed!"
The Tsar recoiled, his face livid and bloodless, and his features convulsed with the passion that beset him—drawing his sword as he stepped backwards.
Boris thought that his end was come; yet even at this supreme moment he felt as cool as though he were going to step out of the chamber next moment and go about his usual business.
For a full minute the Tsar and Boris faced each other without a spoken word from either—Peter, with drawn sword half raised to strike, his breast heaving, his breath drawn in with hissings, his face working with evil passion, his eyes ablaze, and the infinite generosity and manhood of his nature struggling beneath the passion that had so long suffocated and cramped it; Boris, calm and cool, thinking, like a good Russian, of his soul, but thinking also of Nancy, who was so soon to be deprived of a friend as tender and true as the best.
At length the Tsar's arm fell to his side and he tossed his sword upon the table.
"Be it so," he said; and then, "There is not another in all Russia for whose sake that sword should have been held back. Boris Ivanitch, I remind myself ofyour good service—we have been friends and brothers—you have even saved my life at the risk of your own. For these reasons I forbear to strike, as you deserve. But you have disobeyed me—" here the Tsar's face worked once more, and he was silent for a moment. Then he continued, "You have disobeyed me; you can serve me no longer, you are no servant of mine from this hour. Thus I tear you from my heart for ever. Give me your sword." Peter tore the epaulets from his shoulders, and took Boris's sword, laying it beside his own upon the table. "Now go from my sight; I will never see you more. I can never forget your disobedience; it is for me the unpardonable thing. Away—out of my sight!"
Boris had been prepared for death, but he had not expected this—disgrace and banishment from the face of his beloved master; for at the Tsar's words Boris had felt all his old love come swelling into his heart.
The poor hunter burst into tears and seized the Tsar's hand to kiss it ere he left his presence for ever.
But the Tsar repelled him. "Go," he said sternly—"out of my sight; you sicken me with your woman's ways; I am not to be softened by hand-kissing and crying—go!"
Thus befell the first and only quarrel between the bear-hunter and his much-loved master, and the pair were destined, in consequence of it, to be parted for many a long year.
Boris realized at once that he must leave Moscow. There was little object and much danger in remaining in the capital. Once in disgrace with the Tsar, there was no certainty but that the madness of Peter might cause him to treat Boris with scant ceremony should he meet the hunter in the streets or elsewhere. Whither, then, should he go?
Boris went to his apartment, and, with aching head and dazed intelligence, sat down to think out the problem. Why not return to Dubinka? That was his first idea; but he put it from him at once. Dubinka was too far away from Moscow; for Boris could not allow himself to banish entirely the hope that the Tsar might yet forgive him when these evil days had passed and all was forgotten. Besides, there was Nancy. He could never bear to live so far away from her home; how should he ever do without her love, now that he had come to realize that it was, if not all in all to him, at least a large proportion of his all?
Boris ended his cogitations, which resulted innothing, by setting out to walk to the Drurys' house, to inform them of the melancholy turn which his affairs had taken, and to ask their advice. No one was at home excepting Nancy, and to her Boris then and there confided his tale.
Nancy's face flushed as her friend told of how he had refused to obey the Tsar's bidding, of his disgrace, and of the loss of military rank and the Tsar's service. To the surprise of Boris the girl burst into tears and kissed the torn places upon his tunic where the Tsar had violently removed the epaulets. "I thank God you did what you did," she cried, "for, O Boris! I could never have loved you quite so well again if you had executed those poor men!"
Then Boris felt a great flood of comfort and encouragement come welling into his heart, and he went on to tell Nancy, with recovered spirits, of his determination to leave Moscow, and his reasons for taking the step.
Nancy grew very pale as he spoke of this, and when he was silent she, too, said no word for some little space. Then she placed her little hand in his big one and said,—
"If you leave Moscow, I shall go with you."
"Where to, Nancy? I am not going for one day,"said obtuse Boris, playing with the little hand in his, and speaking sadly enough.
"Anywhere—I care not whither; but wherever you go, my Boris, I shall go too." Nancy smiled through her tears. "Won't you take me—won't you have me, Boris?" she said.
Then the hunter understood what the child wished to convey to his dense mind, and all his soul came rushing to his lips as he gathered her to his breast and said a thousand incoherent and tender and ridiculous things. For it had not dawned upon Boris that she was no longer a child, but a very beautiful and tender maiden of seventeen; and that it was now possible, if nothing untoward prevented it, to carry her away with him, even as she had, in her innocent candour, suggested, to be his lifelong companion and helpmate.
So Boris and Nancy passed a happy hour together, and all things miserable and unfortunate were forgotten in the new light which was thus shed upon the prospect. How different now seemed the idea of leaving Moscow! How could Boris have been so blind? Fate could not have been kinder. The Tsar would have forgiven him long before he should grow tired of indolent married life and wish to return to service and the imperial favour.
When Colonel and Mrs. Drury returned home and heard the story of Boris, and Nancy's declaration that she would not suffer him to go alone into exile (which in no wise surprised them), they had a new plan to propose. They possessed a country house, set in its own corner of the forest, some twenty miles from Moscow. Why should not the whole party retire to Karapselka for a while? The priest of the village could perform the marriage ceremony as well as the high ecclesiastics of Moscow; and probably Boris would prefer to have a quiet wedding, in order to escape observation. After the ceremony Nancy and her husband could take up their abode permanently at Karapselka, and there await the dawn of happier days, while the old people returned to Moscow, where they would at all times be within easy reach of their daughter. Boris would find plenty of congenial occupation among the bears and wolves in the forest.
This plan was hailed with joy by all concerned; and it need only be added that Nancy and Boris were duly married, and took up their abode at Karapselka, as the parents of the bride had suggested and as destiny decreed.
There was, as Colonel Drury had promised, plenty for Boris to do at Karapselka; so much so, indeed, that the hunter scarcely was aware of the flight of time, so happily did the days and the weeks and the months come and go. Nancy was the sweetest of young wives, and in her company Boris soon forgot his disgrace, and the sorrow and regret which the quarrel with the Tsar still caused him whenever he recalled it. Away from drills and service and the countless engagements and amusements of city life, the bear-hunter soon recovered all his old passion for the life of the forest. From morn till night he was afoot, tracking, hunting upon his trusty snow-shoes, stalking capercailzie or blackcock among the rime-embroidered pine trees, and revelling in the free and wholesome air of his oldest friend, the forest.Nancy often accompanied him on his excursions, when the distance was not too great; and the evenings passed as happily as mutually agreeable society could make them.
During these months and even years of peaceful life at Karapselka, Boris had many adventures with those animals which had furnished him his original title, as well as with wolves. In these adventures he found that his old skill in the chase was in no wise diminished, nor his nerve shaken, nor his strength and activity abated; he was still the bear-hunter all over. Sometimes it appeared to him that all his military career and his many adventures by land and sea were nothing more than a dream, and that he was back in Dubinka chasing the wild animals as a paid employé of his liege lord, the owner of the land and village in which he lived. But a word from Nancy, or a look into her sweet face, soon put matters into shape, and he knew himself for what he was—a once-favoured servant and soldier of the Tsar, now living under a cloud; a state of affairs which should have made him very miserable, whereas there was no denying the fact that he was nothing of the sort, but, on the contrary, exceedingly well content with his present lot.
One day, when they had been married for the better part of a year, Boris and Nancy met with an adventure which might have had fatal consequences for both of them.
Boris had allowed his wife to accompany him, as he often did, into the woods, driving in their comfortable kibitka, or covered sledge, to a point at a distance of a few miles from the house, and thence proceeding on snow-shoes for a mile or two further in pursuit of hares or foxes, or perhaps with an eye to a partridge or two to replenish the larder.
The day was magnificent—one of those glorious February days when the sun is bright but not warm, and the air rare and invigorating; when every pine is a marvel of subtile filigree-work in silver rime, and the snow beneath one's feet is dazzling with innumerable ice-gems, and has so hard a crust upon it that it will bear the weight of a man.
Nancy and her husband had enjoyed their drive, and were now drinking in the intoxicating fresh forest air as they slid easily along upon their snow-shoes, Nancy having by this time become quite an expert in this graceful fashion of getting over the ground.
The larder at Karapselka happened to be empty atthis time, for there was no system of obliging bakers and butchers to call for orders in that out-of-the-way spot, nor indeed in Moscow either in those days; and Boris was intent upon whistling up tree-partridges, to provide food for the establishment at home. Three of these beautiful birds had come swooping up in response to his call, but had swerved and settled a hundred paces to the left. Boris immediately and cautiously followed them, in hope of getting a shot at the birds before they should take fright. On crept Boris, Nancy cautiously following him at a distance.
Suddenly, to the surprise and alarm of Nancy, and certainly no less of himself, Boris disappeared in a cloud of snow—disappeared as completely as though the earth had opened and swallowed him whole.
For a moment Nancy stopped short in consternation and uncertainty, so sudden had been the disappearance of her lord, when, to her still greater amazement and horror, there came from the spot where her husband had disappeared first terrific roars and growlings, together with much upheaving of snow and pine boughs, and next the ponderous figure of a large bear. Boris had fallen into aberloga, which is Russian for the den which a bear makes for himself during his hibernating period, and in which he remains more or lessfast asleep from November until the thawing of the snow in March or April.
This was the first occasion upon which Nancy had seen a live bear at close quarters; and though she was as courageous a little person as you will meet in a day's march, yet the unexpected sight filled her with terror, which was largely increased when the great brute caught sight of her, and with renewed roarings made straight for the very spot where she stood helpless and motionless.
What had happened is easily explained and in a few words. Boris had stepped upon the top of a berloga, the roof of which immediately gave way beneath his weight, precipitating him upon the top of the sleeping tenant. The bear was not so far gone in somnolence but that the sudden descent upon his person of so heavy an individual as Boris not only awoke but irritated him exceedingly. Boris, finding himself upon the bear's back at the bottom of Bruin's own premises, felt quite at home; indeed, he was never more so than when in the company of a bear. He felt about for his knife, but found to his annoyance that he had left it at home. His axe was at his side, but there was no room to use it except by getting off the brute's back and allowing it to scrambleout of the den, when he might get a stroke at it as it went, wounding it sufficiently to prevent its escape, and finishing the business as soon as he could climb out also.
Meanwhile, the bear was doing its utmost to rid itself of the incubus on its back. It heaved itself up and wriggled, and at last tried to bolt through the aperture which the new arrival had made in the roof of the den. By this move it rid itself of Boris, who slid off backwards, but could not recover himself in time to aim the blow at Bruin's hind-quarter which he had intended to deal it.
By the time Boris was upon his feet the bear had disappeared, and it only then struck Boris that Nancy was outside, and might be in danger of receiving injury from the frightened and angry creature. Full of this fear Boris darted upwards in order to follow the bear and see to Nancy's safety. But the roof gave way as he attempted to climb out, and he fell backwards a second time to the bottom of the berloga. At the second attempt Boris was more successful, and reached the surface in safety.
But when he did so he saw a sight which filled him with fear and horror, for the huge brute was in full pursuit of his young wife, who fled before itupon her snow-shoes, uttering cries of alarm and calling on Boris to help her.
"Bear round this way to me—to me, Nancy!" shouted the poor hunter in agony, starting to run after the pair in desperate dread.
His snow-shoes had been broken in his tumble into the bear's den, so that he was now on foot and trusting to the hard crust of the snow to support him. The animal turned at the sound of his voice, and for a moment seemed to pause, as though doubtful upon which of the two enemies to wreak its passion; then it turned again and resumed its pursuit of poor Nancy. Boris saw with anguish that whenever Nancy endeavoured to edge round in order to come towards him, her pursuer seemed to comprehend her design, and prevented it by cutting the corner to meet her.
Then Boris thought in his agony of mind of another plan. Nancy was gliding beautifully on her light shoes, and could easily keep her lead of the bear so long as her breath held out; while he, run as fast as he might, could scarcely keep up with the chase, without shoes to help him along. It was plain that at this rate he would never overtake bear or wife, and could thus do nothing to assist poor Nancy.
"Make for the sledge, Nancy," he shouted; "go straight along our old tracks—'tis but a short half-mile away!"
Nancy heard and understood, and went straight on, looking neither to the right hand nor to the left, but only straining every nerve to gain upon the brute behind her, so as to reach the sledge sufficiently well ahead of him to allow time to unfasten the horse, which was tied to a tree.
On rushed Nancy, and on came the bear behind her, she gaining slowly but steadily; and after them came panting Boris, with difficulty holding his own, for all that he was a good runner and in fair condition, for at every third or fourth step the treacherous snow surface gave way and plunged his foot and leg deep in the powdery ice-covered stuff.
And now the sledge came into view, and a glad sight it was for more than one of the party. Nancy took heart at seeing it, and made a renewed effort to gain a yard or two, reaching the horse's head—the horse struggling and tugging for terror of the bear the while—with a lead of thirty good yards. Deftly she untied the noose and freed the snorting, terrified animal, and as deftly she threw her body across the side of the sledge, and the horse, feeling himself free,dashed with it homewards. Then she slipped into the seat, just at the very moment that Bruin arrived upon the spot to find his bird flown.
"Bravo, bravo, my Nancy!" shouted Boris, as he watched with unspeakable relief and joy how the swift little sledge bore her instantly out of danger.—"Now, Mishka," he added, "come back and settle accounts with me; you won't catch that bird, she's flown."
The bear, who was still standing and watching the sledge as it glided away from him, seemed to hear and comprehend the invitation of Boris. It turned sharp round upon hearing his voice, and with a loud roar accepted the challenge thrown out to it. It looked very large, and certainly a terrific object, as it bore down upon Boris, half mad with fury that Nancy should have escaped its wrath, and roaring aloud as it came.
But the hunter cared nothing for its roarings, nor yet for the ferocity of its appearance, though such fury as it had shown was somewhat rare in a bear which is suddenly awaked from its winter sleep. He stood very calmly, axe in hand, and awaited the onslaught.
When the bear came close up it raised itself uponits hind-legs, whereupon Boris aimed a terrific blow with his axe at the head of the brute. The axe was sharp and the aim was true, and the iron crashed through Bruin's head with so mighty a shock that in an instant this monster, who had been so terrible but a moment since, was more harmless than the smallest creature that flies and stings.
Then Boris looked, and perceived that his wife had returned from the sledge and was at his elbow with the gun, which she had found and brought in case he should require help in his dealings with the bear. She was pale with her fright and panting with her run, and Boris took her very tenderly in his arms and bore her back to the sledge, praising and encouraging her. And it so fell out that on this very night was born their little daughter Katie, of whom I shall have something presently to tell.
Happy as she had been before, Nancy was now in the seventh heaven of content. There was no more dulness and waiting for her now, when Boris had set forth for a full day's hunting in the forest and left her to look after household matters at home. That little baby was companion and occupation and amusement to her, all in one tiny person, and the days passed right joyously at Karapselka.
When spring came, and the frost and snow had disappeared from the woods, Nancy loved to take her little companion in the tiny hand-cart and pass a pleasant hour or two wandering beneath the waving pine trees, enjoying the fine air, and listening to the thousand and one sounds of awakening forest life. The little birds populating the tree-tops were noisyat this time of year, and there were the crooning of the amorous blackcock to listen for, and the tok-tok of the gluhar, or capercailzie, while in the distance might always be heard the screaming of cranes in some damp corner of the woods, as they kept up their constant sentry-cry. There was plenty both to see and hear in these glorious woods—there always is for those who have eyes and ears, and know how to employ them to advantage—and Nancy was never weary of strolling with her baby asleep in her cart into the delightful glades which lay within easy reach of her home.
Since her adventure with the bear, Boris had insisted that she should go armed, and had presented her with a neat hunting-knife, without which she was never, he said, to stir from home, were it but for a hundred paces into the forest and back again. So Nancy went armed, though she declared she would be far too frightened to use her dagger if she were to encounter a second bear anything like the first. But Boris explained carefully how the knife should be used in emergency, and how not to use it, of which there appeared to be a great many ways.
One day, while out strolling as usual in the forest, Nancy suddenly caught sight of two small animalswhose aspect was quite unfamiliar to her, which was odd, for she was as well acquainted with the life of the forest by this time as any Russian peasant-woman who had lived in it from childhood. The little creatures were somewhat like puppies, with a suggestion of fox, and when Nancy ran after them they scuttled away with comical little barks.
Nancy mentioned this matter to Boris on his return from hunting.
"What colour were they?" Boris asked.
Nancy said they were of a yellowish gray.
"They were young wolves, then," said Boris; "and if you see them again, catch one for me if you can—I long to possess a tame wolf-cub; but have your knife handy in case of the mother interfering."
It so fell out that a few days after this conversation Nancy did see these same little creatures again, four of them together; whereupon, mindful of her husband's great wish to possess one, she left the baby asleep in its hand-cart and gave chase. The wolflings scampered bravely, and led her up and down and about in every direction, until Nancy bethought herself that she was getting winded, and besides that she might easily get confused, if she went further, as to the position in which she had left her precious littleKatie. So she gave up the hunt, and returned towards the place whence she started.
Then she realized how just had been her fears, for it was with difficulty that she succeeded at last in retracing her steps to the place where the hand-cart had been left. To her surprise and alarm she saw that the cart lay over upon its side; and hastening towards it she perceived, to her unspeakable consternation and horror, that it was empty.
Poor Nancy was not the person to sit down and do nothing in an emergency; but the horror of the discovery she had just made bereft her for some few moments of the power of action as well as of thought. Her mind instantly flew back to the words of Boris telling her to beware of the mother-wolf, and for several minutes these words danced in her brain. The mother-wolf, it was the mother-wolf! it had taken her darling child in order to feed those detestable little gray scuttling things which she had chased through the trees! While she had been senselessly hunting the cubs, the mother-wolf—some lean-looking, gray, skulking brute—had crept secretly up and carried away her Katie, her darling baby.
In another moment Nancy had drawn her sharp little dagger, and with shriek upon shriek had rushedwildly into the forest and disappeared among the pines, whither she knew not, but full of a wild determination to find that gray thief and force her to deliver up to her the priceless thing she had stolen.
When Boris returned home late in the afternoon he was somewhat surprised to find that Nancy was not at home. She and the baby had gone for a stroll in the woods, the old servant explained, and had not been home to dinner.
"God grant thelieshui[wood-spirits] have not got hold of them, or done them some injury!" the old fellow concluded, sighing deeply. "The forest is a terrible place, and for my part I have always warned the barina."
Boris did not stay to exchange words with his faithful old serf, but taking a horse from the stable galloped off as fast as he could into the forest, shouting Nancy's name in every direction. Up and down, and through and through every glade and pathway, wherever there was room for the horse to pass, Boris rode; and ever as he rode he shouted Nancy's name, until his voice grew hoarse, and the cob waxed weary, and the light began to wane, and still he neither found trace nor heard sound of his lost wife and child.
Still he rode on and on, and would have ridden all night rather than return home to misery and uncertainty; but when he was upwards of twelve miles from the house, and his heart was despairing and his spirit mad within him, he heard at length a faint reply to his calling. Lashing up his tired horse he dashed on, and presently, to his infinite joy and relief, he came upon Nancy sitting worn and utterly fagged out beneath a tree, crying bitterly, and nursing in her arms a portion of her baby's frock which she had picked up in the forest.
For many minutes poor Nancy could do no more than cling to her husband's broad breast, and sob and weep as though her very heart were melted within her for sorrow. At last she held up the tiny torn dress, and murmured, "The mother-wolf," and then betook herself once more to her bitter crying.
Boris realized at once what had happened—realized also that he had arrived far too late to do any good; for the wolf, even if it had not at once eaten the poor baby but carried it away to feast upon at leisure, must now be far away beyond the reach of pursuit. In his great joy and thankfulness to have found Nancy safe, Boris did not feel in all its poignancy, in these first moments, that grief for the child which hewas destined to suffer acutely afterwards. His chief thought was for Nancy; she must be got home and at once, that was the most important duty of the moment. As for the baby, it was gone beyond recall, and would assuredly never be seen again by mortal eye.
"Come, Nancy," he said, when he had comforted and petted his poor stricken wife, "let me get you home, and then I will scour the forest on a fresh horse. You need food and rest. If our Katie is alive, I shall not cease searching till she is found; if not, I shall not rest until I have killed every wolf within fifty miles of the house!"
But Nancy would not hear of it. "Oh no, no," she cried, "I shall never go home till we have found our darling. She is alive, I am sure of it. See, there is no blood on the frock; the wolf has not hurt her. It stole her away because I was wicked to chase her little ones. It is wrong to catch the wild animals of God's forest and enslave them. We ought to have known it, Boris."
The frock had no stain of blood, that was true enough; and the circumstance gave Boris some slight hope that it might be as the stricken mother had suggested, though the chances were much against it.Boris had heard often enough stories of how wolves had taken and befriended babies, allowing them to grow up with the cubs. His own experience of the ferocity and greed of these animals, however, had always led him to laugh at such tales as old women's yarns, unworthy of a moment's serious consideration. Nancy had heard of them too, that was evident, and was now leaning upon the hope that in poor little Katie's disappearance was living evidence of their truth.
No persuasions would induce the sorrowing mother, therefore, to give up the search. All night long Boris walked beside the horse, supporting his weary little wife, who could scarcely sit in the saddle for weakness and fatigue; and not until the horse was unable to go further would she consent to pause in the work of quartering the ground in every direction, and riding through every clump of cover, in case the beloved object of her search should have been concealed in it.
When morning came, and the sun rose warm and bright over the aspen bushes, Boris found a place where the horse could obtain a meal of coarse grass, and where Nancy, upon a soft couch of heather, could lie down and take the rest she so greatly required.He was lucky enough to find and kill a hare, and with the help of a fire of sticks, which no man in Russia was better able to kindle than he, an excellent improvised breakfast was soon prepared. Afterwards, Nancy slept for several hours while Boris watched, listening intently the while in the hope of hearing the sound of a wolf-howl, which might possibly indicate the whereabouts of the thief. But the hours passed, and there was nothing to guide him to take one direction more than another, and poor Boris knew well enough that he had set himself a hopeless task; nevertheless, for Nancy's sake, he agreed to continue the search for the rest of that day, and the forest was hunted as it had never been hunted before, until his feet ached with walking, and Nancy was but half-conscious for sheer weariness. Then Boris took the law into his own hands and directed the horse for home, and the weary trio reached Karapselka as the shadows of night fell upon the forest behind them.
The next morning a peasant came early and inquired for the barin. Boris, who was about to set out once more upon his hopeless search, received the man unwillingly, as one who is in a hurry and cannot stop to discuss trifles.
"Well?" he said; "quick, what is it?"
The man scratched his head for inspiration, then he cleared his throat and began the business upon which he had come. He had been in the forest yesterday, he said, collecting firewood. The winters were cold, he proceeded, and the poor peasants must spend a good deal of their time during summer in laying up a store of fuel for the winter. But it was God's will that the peasants should be always poor.
"Get to the point," said Boris impatiently, "or I must go without hearing it."
That would be a pity, the man continued, for he believed that when the barin heard what he had to tell, the barin would give him anachaiok(tea-money) for the news. He had been in the forest collecting wood, he repeated, when suddenly he saw a sight which filled him with fear—nothing less than a great she-wolf with a whole litter of young ones following at her heels. The man had at once thought to himself, "Here now is a chance of a nachaiok from Boris Ivanitch, who is a great hunter, and will love to hear of a family of wolves close at hand." But the moment after, said the peasant, he saw something which quite altered the aspect of the affair. When the wolf saw him, she had stopped and picked upfrom the ground where it lay close to her a small creature something like a human child, and which cried like one, but which was of course one of the lieshui, or wood-spirits, which often enough take the form of babe or old man. The she-wolf took up the creature in its mouth and trotted away with it into the forest. "Oho," the man had thought, "still more shall I earn a nachaiok from Boris Ivanitch; for now I must warn him that if he meets with this particular she-wolf and her brats he must give them a wide berth and be sure not to shoot or injure them, for this wolf is the handmaid of the lieshui, and woe to him who interferes with the favoured creatures of those touchy and tricksy spirits, for they would assuredly lure him to his destruction when next he ventured deep into the heart of the forest."
Boris hastily bade the man follow him and point out the exact spot where he had seen this wonderful sight. The peasant showed a place within a short distance of the house, and added that the wolf family had passed at sunset on the previous evening.
Here then was joyous news for Nancy; her babe had been alive and well some thirty-six hours after its disappearance, and had actually been seen within call of its own home, while its distracted parentshad scoured the woods for a score of miles in every direction, little dreaming that the child was left far behind.
Nancy received the news calmly, but with the intensest joy and gratitude. "I was sure our darling was alive," she said; "but oh, Boris, if only it were winter and we could track the thief down! What are we to do, and how are we to find the child before the she-wolf carries her far away, or changes her mind and devours her?" And Nancy wailed aloud in her helplessness and misery.
There was nothing to be done but to search the forest daily, taking care to do nothing and permit nothing to be done in the village to frighten the wolves, and scare them away far into the depths of the forest, where there would be no hope of ever finding them again. Accordingly no day went by but was spent by Boris and his ever-hopeful but distracted wife in quartering the woods far and near, the pair going softly and speaking seldom, and that in whispers, for fear of scaring the wolves away.
But the days passed, and the weeks also, and a month came, and slowly there crept over their souls the certainty that their labour would be in vain, and that they had seen the last of their beloved child. Still,they would never entirely lose hope, and day by day they continued their wearisome tramping, sometimes going afoot, sometimes riding when their feet grew sore with the constant walking. Another fortnight went by, and it was now high summer, and still they were childless.