A few nights after the defeat of the Appropriation Bill, Paul Woodville at a late hour strolled forth into the gardens of the Vistula Palace, with no design of meeting Barbara, but drawn thither chiefly by the extreme beauty of the moonlight.
He sat down in solitude by the margin of a tree-girt lake, watching in an abstracted manner the silvery path of light on its surface, and musing over the strangely romantic turn his life had taken.
A sudden rustling among the foliage put an end to his reverie, and on turning he found Barbara by his side.
She was excited, if not angry. There was a defiant expression upon her face, and a lovely color burned on her cheek. She was habited as if for a journey, for her figure was concealed by a cloak with the hood drawn around her head. Her appearance reminded Paul of their first meeting in the Illyrian forest; and, as if responsive to his thoughts, Barbara's first words recalled that time.
"Paul, do you remember those happy days in Dalmatia? Come and let us renew them."
"I am not quite sure that I understand."
"Let us leave Czernova this night—this hour—now. Take me with you."
For a moment Paul doubted whether he could have heard aright. Then recovering from his surprise, he asked,—
"What has happened to make you take this wild resolution?"
"There is no other course left us if we are to be united. Listen!"
She proceeded to explain the cause of her agitation.
It appeared that at a cabinet council held earlier in the evening Barbara had announced what had for some time been suspected, namely, that the projected match between herself and the duke had been dissolved by mutual consent. Thereupon the Greek Archpastor, Mosco, whom Barbara suspected of acting as the mouthpiece of the duke, rose and boldly, yet respectfully, asked the princess to define her attitude towards her secretary, Captain Woodville; he invited her to contradict the growing rumors as to the relationship existing between herself and the Englishman.
Perceiving that other members of the cabinet were in sympathy with Mosco's questioning, Barbara put aside her first impulse, which was haughtily to ignore the subject, and gave answer that it was her firm resolve to make Captain Woodville the Prince-consort of Czernova.
The council were united in maintaining that this could not be.
"Zabern among the number?" asked Paul.
"Zabern spoke not a word—sure sign that he is on your side. He deems it prudent to sacrifice his private opinion to the will of the rest; otherwise Radzivil would call upon him to resign, and Zabern believes that he can do me more good in the cabinet than out of it. They have insisted upon your immediate withdrawal from Czernova. I pledged my word that you should depart this very night; but, Paul," she continued, with a laugh that had something of hysteria in it, "I did not tell them that it was my intention to accompany you. I will never give you up, Paul, never. You are dearer to me than crownor life. Come, we will go away together, and leave Czernova to its own devices."
Such was the invitation addressed to Paul by Barbara, whose arms were encircling his neck as with a garland; her lovely face was close to his; her dark eyes radiant with love were looking into his own. Now at last she seemed to belong to him.
Paul, as previously related, had by the death of a relative become the possessor of an ample fortune. How delightful, then, to while away the hours on the sunny shores of the Riviera with Barbara for his bride! What admiration her beauty would elicit from all who saw her! What a halo of romance would surround her personality! The princess who resigned a throne for love, who preferred an untitled Englishman to an imperially connected archduke! He would be the most envied man in Europe. It was a splendid temptation, but he rose superior to it.
"If you have pledged your word for my withdrawal, I must go—and alone," he added.
"You shall not go to please them," she cried passionately.
"Then I will go to please myself."
"Without me? Do you mean that—that we must part forever?"
The anguish of her voice went to Paul's heart. The stately princess that had confronted the Diet was gone, and in her place was a clinging, trembling maiden with eyes full of tears.
"Sweetest Barbara, doubt whatever else you will, but do not doubt my love. It behoves us to part at least for a time. I go, but you must remain. Remember, that, as a princess, you are not your own but your people's. If you desert Czernova you give to the duke the crown for which he is basely plotting. Do not let that traitor succeed. Do not hand over your loyal Poles to thetyranny of Bora. Abdication on your part will mean the final triumph of Russia."
"And that triumph is not far distant," replied Barbara bitterly. "We have received intelligence to-day from our ambassadors at Berlin and Vienna that Prussia and Austria have jointly agreed to withdraw from the responsibility of upholding the integrity of Czernova, leaving the onus of this political duty to Russia. We know what this means. In plain language Kaiser and King will permit the Czar to exercise a free hand in the principality. The long-threatened annexation is at hand."
"Then it is time for me to be going."
"In my hour of peril?"
"I go to save you from this peril, to deliver you from the ever-threatening shadow of the Czar. I have a scheme in mind,—a scheme so daring that it seems madness to attempt it; and yet better to dare and fail than not to dare at all. My plan, if it succeeds, will make Czernova so strong that it will no longer fear the arms of Russia. And then," added Paul hopefully, "and then it may be that in return for such service your ministry will regard me with more favorable eyes."
Love is proverbially blind, and therefore it will not seem matter for wonder that the princess in her passionate attachment to Paul should place more reliance upon his promise than upon the united wisdom of her cabinet. But what his plan was she could not learn; to all her questions he smiled pleasantly and mysteriously; the sooner he set off the sooner would come its realization.
But each time he turned to depart Barbara pleaded so sweetly for delay that he was forced to stay a few minutes longer; and they continued to sit in the moonlight, Paul radiant with the hope of coming success, Barbara puzzled, yet confident in his ability to fulfil his word. They were a long time in parting, and often after saying whatthey intended as their final farewell they turned again to repeat it.
Paul at length tore himself away, and had not proceeded very far when he was met by Marshal Zabern.
"You are leaving Czernova?"
"Since the cabinet decrees it."
"But you must return."
"When?"
"On the eve of the princess's coronation."
"Why on that day?"
Zabern bent his head and whispered. The communication was such as to cause Paul's eyes to sparkle and his hand to seek the hilt of his sabre.
"Is that the plan of the duke, then?"
"Such is my belief. And you alone, Captain Woodville, can defeat it. You will be there?"
"Can you doubt it? If I be living."
"Good! You will have the laugh of these fools," returned Zabern, referring to his colleagues in the ministry. "They will not deny you the hand of the princess then."
And Paul and Zabern parted on an understanding eminently satisfactory to both.
On the following day the ministry learned with relief that Captain Woodville had quitted Czernova, though none knew, not even Barbara, whither he had betaken himself.
The coronation ceremony was now but two months distant, and Zabern ventured to remind the princess that some of its most important details still awaited settlement.
"The great question is who shall have the high honor of crowning your Highness?"
"Abbot Faustus, for he is a good man," replied Barbara; and, noting Zabern's look of surprise, she added, "He, and none other. The cabinet have had their way in the matter of Captain Woodville; I will have my wayin this. Let the council meet again to-day. When this point comes to be discussed, do you, marshal, propose Abbot Faustus for the office, and I will assent."
Though wondering much at her choice, Zabern refrained from comment.
That same evening another cabinet council was held in the Vistula Palace, Barbara again presiding.
Among the members present was the Archbishop Mosco, or, as he was styled in Slavowitz, the Archpastor, who, as previously stated, had a seat in the cabinet, not by the appointment of the princess, but by virtue of his office as head of the Greek Church in Czernova.
The crowning of the sovereign had hitherto been one of the privileges attaching to his see. Barbara's Latin faith, however, had necessarily deprived him of his prerogative, which would thus seem to devolve by natural right upon the highest ecclesiastic in the Catholic Church of Czernova, or in other words, upon the Cardinal Archbishop Ravenna.
Therefore, when Zabern rose to propose that Abbot Faustus, of the Convent of the Transfiguration, should have the high honor of crowning the princess, there were murmurs of dissent from the council, the majority not deeming the abbot of sufficient dignity for the office.
"The cardinal would regard such appointment as an affront to himself," remarked Radzivil.
"And might seek, in his disappointment, to give us trouble," commented Dorislas. "Being the ecclesiastical superior of Faustus, he might appear in the cathedral and interdict the abbot from crowning the princess, which would be a pretty scandal."
"Ah, well," replied Zabern, carelessly, "we have prisons for disorderly prelates, as well as for law-breaking dukes."
"What says her Highness in this matter?" said Radzivil turning to the princess.
"The marshal's nomination meets with my approval," returned Barbara. "My lords, I will not now enter into my reasons. Let it suffice to say that Cardinal Ravenna has made it impossible for me to receive the crown from his hands. Sooner would I resign than do so."
Great wonderment appeared on the faces of the ministers, yet none ventured to ask in what way the cardinal had offended. Opposition to the abbot was immediately withdrawn, for the cabinet, gratified by Barbara's supposed dismissal of Paul, were in a complaisant mood, though they plainly saw trouble looming ahead in thus excluding Ravenna from participating in the coronation.
At this point of the debate Polonaski intervened with a suggestion. He was the Justiciary, and by virtue of his office the highest legal authority in Czernova.
"Since your Highness reigns over Greeks as well as Catholics, would it not be politic to conciliate the former by permitting a Greek prelate to have some share, however small, in your coronation?"
"That is good counsel," replied Barbara. "I trust, my lord," she added, addressing Mosco with a gracious smile, "that you have not viewed with bitterness this setting aside of the ancient privilege attaching to your see? But, indeed, you are welcome to take whatever part you please in my coronation, short of the administration of the Sacrament and of the imposition of the diadem."
Mosco, apparently gratified by this concession, spent a few moments in studying the coronation ritual, a copy of which had been supplied to each member of the cabinet.
"I ask for nothing more," he finally observed, "than for leave to read the Gospel at the beginning of the ceremony."
"It is granted," replied Barbara, wondering why thearchpastor should select this, a somewhat humble office, compared with others which were open to him.
Mosco's lips curved into a smile, which, though lasting but a moment, did not escape the quick eye of Zabern, who immediately became full of suspicion.
"As I live," he muttered to himself, "our archpastor is a traitor! Have I got rid of Bora only to find that he has left a successor in the cabinet? That smile means mischief. But what mischief can come from the reading of the Gospel?"
An enigma which was not solved till the actual day of the coronation, and those who witnessed the solution were not likely ever to forget it.
That picturesque personage, accustomed to figure at a coronation, namely, the champion, now became a subject of discussion, Mosco himself having introduced the question.
"It is the duty of such champion," he explained in answer to Barbara's interrogation, "to stand before the throne, and, casting down a glove, to defy to mortal combat any one who shall openly challenge the right of the sovereign to rule."
"But why," said the princess, with a pitying smile, "why should we retain a feudal usage out of place in this nineteenth century?"
"It has always formed a part of the coronation ceremonial," protested Mosco. "Your late father, Prince Thaddeus, would not have it omitted when he was crowned."
"And what would happen," asked Radzivil, "if some one malevolently disposed towards the princess should step forward and pick up the glove?"
"We had better consult the Justiciary," smiled Barbara. "He is our authority on all matters of law."
"Your Highness," returned Polonaski, "the ancient statute touching the championing of the sovereign'srights has never been repealed, and therefore still stands good in point of law. Should any one accept the champion's challenge by taking up the gage thrown down, the combat would have to take place."
"With what result?" queried Radzivil. "Will you say that if her champion should fall the princess must resign the throne?"
"According to the law of Czernova," replied the Justiciary.
Zabern leaned back in his seat and caustically whispered in the premier's ear,—
"Count, methinks you were a little premature last night in banishing an excellent swordsman from Czernova."
"I venture to differ from the Justiciary," remarked the princess. "An earlier law is always repealed by a later. Therefore the feudal statute which has been cited is abrogated by the recent Anti-duelling Act. We will therefore omit this pretended championing of our rights as an obsolete, barbarous, and unmeaning ceremony."
The Justiciary did not look as if convinced by Barbara's reasoning. He refrained from further comment, however, and the motion to omit the champion from the ceremonial was unanimously accepted.
Various other matters relative to the solemnity were settled, after which the council broke up, leaving Zabern still troubled by Mosco's smile. A permanent member of the cabinet, the Greek archpastor, equally with the Roman archbishop, could not be removed at will by the princess or the premier, unless guilty of treason, and of this Zabern as yet lacked proof.
"He is playing Bora's game," muttered the marshal. "He is a party to Lipski's plot. I warrant he knows all about the store of arms concealed in that traitor's cellar. Mosco, you shall sit no more as the betrayer of our meetings, for none shall be held. For some time tocome Czernova shall be governed by a council of three—the princess, Radzivil, and myself."
But the evil which the Greek archpastor might do was as nothing compared with what the Roman archbishop could effect, and in the course of a few days Barbara found herself facing a peril of which even her confidant Zabern little dreamed.
A week after Paul's departure Cardinal Ravenna returned to Slavowitz, coming from Rome in no good humor. The Sacred College, at the invitation of the Pope, had been spending many days in the discussion of some abstruse doctrine of theology, much to the irritation of Ravenna, whose self-interest required his presence in Czernova.
In the first hour of his return he was made aware that the cabinet, ignoring his superior claims, had deputed Abbot Faustus to crown the princess, and that all men were talking of the event; for inasmuch as it was the current belief that Ravenna was the very person who had converted the princess to the Catholic faith, the Czernovese were naturally not a little mystified by this exclusion of the archbishop from the coronation ceremony.
Ravenna knew full well that this appointment could not have been made without the sanction of Barbara herself, and accordingly on the following morning he repaired to the Vistula Palace, his mortification becoming still further enhanced by the mocking smile of his Greek rival, whom he chanced to pass on the way. Barbara received the cardinal with a chilling mien.
"Is it true, princess," he began with a grave air, "that in the matter of the coronation you have given to the Abbot Faustus, my inferior, the honor which belongs of right to the archbishop?"
"Quite true," responded Barbara, coldly.
"Do you intend, then, with set purpose, to put an affront upon me in the sight of all Czernova?"
"None but pure hands shall set the diadem upon my head. Shall I accept the Sacrament from one who has insulted me with words of unhallowed love, repeat prayers uttered by your lips? My lord cardinal," she added in scorn, "have you no conscience?"
Probably not. He was indifferent to the moral precepts of religion, if not at heart wholly atheistic, having adopted the ecclesiastic life merely as a stepping-stone to power.
"Is it likewise true that Zabern purposes at no distant date to introduce into the Diet a bill for the expulsion of Jesuits from Czernova?"
"Your eminence has been correctly informed. We cannot tolerate in the principality those whose aim it is to create animperium in imperio. Besides," added the princess, caustically, "a Jesuit Expulsion Bill will put my Muscovite subjects in a good humor, while not greatly offending the Catholics."
Though maintaining a calm exterior, the cardinal nevertheless listened with secret dismay, for her words were the very death-knell of his ambition. By using the princess as his instrument he had hoped to play therôleof a Richelieu in Czernova, and to be the supreme director of affairs, secular as well as ecclesiastical. By reason of his supposed conversion of a Greek princess he had obtained a high place in the Pope's favor. He had openly boasted at the Vatican that the Greek heresy would soon vanish from Czernova. But now? The attitude of Barbara and her cabinet showed that he had been building castles in the air.
Was this to be the end of his life's work? Must he write "failure" across the scheme that had occupied his mind for twenty years? It would seem so.
"Is it to be war between us? Good! Thus, then, do I take up the gage flung down by you. On your coronation day, in the sight of all assembled in the cathedral, I shall rise to affirm, ay, and to prove too, that you arenot Natalie Lilieska. I shall denounce you as an impostor, as a knowing usurper of the rights of Bora."
"And be arrested as an accomplice of the impostor; since, if I fall, you fall with me."
"Not so, princess; for I shall previously have made my terms with Bora. You may count, now, upon having the Pope as your enemy, since you are bent upon persecuting the Society of Jesus. By falsely claiming to be princess you have imposed upon the Holy Father. You admit a heretical prelate to participate in the ceremony of your coronation. You pretend to be a Catholic, yet your ministers have placarded Slavowitz to the effect that the princess will swear at the altar to preserve inviolate the ancient privileges as well of the Greek as of the Latin Church. Such Laodicean policy will not suit Pio Nono. A word in his ear from me will bring against you a bull of excommunication. And, remember, that the subjects of an excommunicated ruler are absolved from their allegiance."
Barbara laughed scornfully.
"We are not living in the time of the Crusades. Excommunication is an obsolete weapon."
"Not so obsolete as you deem, princess. The Poles are loyal, or shall we say superstitious, Catholics. Many of them will obey the Pope rather than yourself. There will be a cleavage in the ranks of your Polish adherents fatal to your interests. Barbara Lilieska, with the Pope and the Catholic clergy of Czernova alienated from you; with dissension among your own adherents; with the duke and his Muscovite faction opposed to you; with the jealous Czar, ready, nay, eager, to march his armies against the usurping princess who had so often thwarted his policy—it will pass the wit of Zabern himself to keep you upon the throne. Dream not of your coronation. You may ride in state to the cathedral, but only to witness the crowning of Bora. From that ceremony youwill return not to this Vistula Palace, but to that Citadel in which you once imprisoned the duke. He hates you bitterly since your rejection of him for Captain Woodville. Now he will be able to wreak his vengeance upon you. You will have to drink deep of the cup of humiliation. Are you prepared for this?"
Barbara sat, pondering over the difficulties of her position. Then amid her troubled thoughts came the memory of Paul and of his mysterious plan, and she took courage.
The cardinal stood silently drinking in the beauty of her face and figure, loving and hating her in the same moment, hoping against hope that she would change her attitude towards him.
So long did Barbara remain mute that the cardinal began to think that her opposition was weakening, and under this delusion he ventured to renew his proposals of love.
"No more such language, my lord," said the princess, her eyes flashing with indignation, "or I call the guard."
"And thereby precipitate your immediate ruin. The news of my imprisonment would cause my nephew Redwitz of Zamoska to put in evidence the three sealed letters. At present the secrets contained within them are unknown even to him; but in a day more all the world would be talking of the impostor-princess of Czernova. There are still seven weeks left to you; why abbreviate your reign?"
Ravenna had spoken without his accustomed caution in revealing the names Redwitz and Zamoska, which last was a small town in Russia, distant a few miles from the Czernovese border. Though trembling with anger at the cardinal's insolence, which a hard necessity compelled her to tolerate, Barbara did not let the phrase "Redwitz of Zamoska" escape her. The words seemed to afford a ray of hope. If these letters could be seized,and the cardinal arrested on one and the same day, why—then—then—
"Barbara Tressilian," said the cardinal quietly, "your aversion to illicit love would seem to combat the theory of heredity."
At this singular utterance the princess gave a palpable start.
"The daughter is more scrupulous than the mother."
These words and the cold sneer accompanying them occasioned in Barbara a fear far greater than that caused by the threat of deposition.
"What devil's lie are you inventing now?" she murmured.
"Your English mother, Hilda Tressilian, was content to be wooed and won without asking the church to consecrate her love."
If it be possible for the human heart to suspend its pulsation, then Barbara's heart did at that moment.
When at last she spoke it was in a voice breathless with indignation. "Can there be a more base deed than to slander a dead mother in the presence of her daughter?"
"No slander, but the solemn truth do I speak. Your father, Prince Thaddeus, withheld this knowledge from you, from a desire to spare your feelings. When after the Dalmatian earthquake of two years ago, you were wavering between the crown of a princess and the veil of a nun, the knowledge that you were of illegitimate birth might have deterred you from accepting the crown; therefore Prince Thaddeus kept that matter a secret. He invented the story that the church, the scene of his marriage, had been burnt, and the record of the union destroyed; and the more effectually to deceive you he made choice in his fiction of a certain church which had actually been consumed by fire. But the preservation of the edifice would have availed you nothing, for its marriage-bookcontained no such names as Thaddeus Lilieski and Hilda Tressilian."
"It is a question betwixt my father's word and yours. I prefer my father's."
"Naturally, inasmuch as it suits your interests. When on your crowning-day, and before a vast assembly, I rise to deny that you are Natalie Lilieski, will you dare affirm it, knowing, as you do, that you lack a certain birth-mark of that princess? If you aver that you are in reality Barbara Lilieska, the elder daughter of Thaddeus, what answer will you give to those who challenge you to produce the proofs of Thaddeus's early marriage? Barbara Tressilian, you are illegitimate, and as such debarred from reigning. Your beauty has made you many enemies among the proud and envious ladies of Czernova. Those over whom you have queened it will be able to point the finger of scorn at the discrowned princess, branded with the stain of illicit birth."
He marked with secret pleasure the shiver of wounded pride on the part of Barbara, and clenched his remarks with the question,—
"Knowing what I can effect, do you still maintain your defiance of me?"
"I do," responded Barbara, quietly. "Believing myself to be the lawful princess of Czernova, I shall hold to my throne. Girt around with earthly perils, I tranquillize my mind by looking above, confiding in the justice of heaven."
That any one should think of trusting to such a shadowy weapon as the justice of heaven drew a sneer from the atheistic cardinal.
"The history of Poland should have taught you that God is always on the side of the strong." And then, conscious of the futility of further argument, he made a mock bow, and with the words, "Farewell, Princess Lackland," he withdrew from the saloon.
Barbara retired to her own private apartments, and was seen no more that day, save by her personal attendants.
Her belief in her legitimacy had rested upon her father's word; but how if he had deceived her? The thought that she might be of illicit birth rankled in her mind, poisoning all her happiness. She clenched her hands in agony, and unable to sit still, paced restlessly to and fro.
The spirit of justice was deep-planted within Barbara's breast; a throne unlawfully held had no attractions for her; if she could be certain that the cardinal's statement were true, then, bitter though the duty might be, she must resign the crown of Czernova to her enemy Bora. But she was not certain, and therein lay the torture. She would have no peace of mind till the question should be settled, and unfortunately the circumstances of the case seemed to preclude the possibility of solving the doubt.
When Zabern next day sought the presence of the princess, he was struck by her pallid complexion and melancholy air.
"The cabinet," he muttered to himself, mistaking the cause of her sadness, "will have to recall Woodville, or our princess's health will give way. Your Highness," he said aloud, "Dorislas has just proposed a conundrum."
"To what effect?" asked Barbara with a smile.
"'Whether does Cardinal Ravenna live at Slavowitz or at Rome?' I confess I am unable to answer it. It is but forty-eight hours since the cardinal's return, and yet we now hear that he has set off again for Rome, and will not come back till your coronation eve."
"When he will bring with him," observed Barbara, quietly, "a papal bull excommunicating the Princess of Czernova."
"Ha! he'll be well advised not to read it," said Zabern, touching the hilt of his sabre significantly. "I plainly foresaw that our preference for Faustus would make anenemy of Ravenna. And so he hath gone to Rome to solicit a bull of excommunication? And he'll obtain it. Our intended attack on the Jesuits will not please Pio Nono; once their foe, he hath of late become their friend and patron. Excommunication! Thus does the Church reward us for preserving her property, since in fighting for our own Convent of the Transfiguration, we were fighting likewise for all the other monasteries of Czernova; for which service it now appears we are to receive papal curses. Humph! 'Catholicism without the Pope' will soon have to be our cry."
"Marshal," said Barbara, resolving to make Zabern a confidant of her secret history, "did you not present me with a handsome bow and quiver about six months ago?"
Zabern replied in the affirmative, wondering why the princess should have introduced a matter seemingly irrelevant.
"Have you not felt hurt that I have never once made use of your gifts?"
"The princess has been occupied with more important matters."
"Shall I give you my reason?"
"If your Highness wills."
"The reason is very simple. I have never handled bow and arrow, and it might create suspicion if I should now begin to learn."
"Now your Highness is jesting," said Zabern, puzzled to account for this humor on the part of the princess, because Barbara was not in the habit of jesting; and, moreover, if her remark were intended for a jest, it was somewhat difficult to see the point. "You shoot like Diana herself, or rather, I should say you did, for I must confess that since your Dalmatian tour you seem to have taken a dislike to archery."
"Marshal, I have never in my life taken aim at a target."
Zabern was completely dumfounded by the seriousness with which Barbara spoke. On recovering from his surprise, he said, smiling the while, for he did not believe in what he was saying,—
"Then if I am to accept your Highness's statement as true, it must follow as a logical conclusion that the young princess who handled the bow so admirably three years ago is not the same as she who now addresses me."
"Now you have hit upon my secret, marshal. I am not Natalie Lilieska."
"And I am not Ladislas Zabern," laughed the other. He could not tell why the princess spoke thus; he certainly could not believe her.
"Now, Zabern, be serious, for I am serious. Can you not recall when I first came here from Dalmatia, many supposed lapses of memory on my part? Was it not a common saying at that time, 'The princess has grown very forgetful?' Was I ever seen without either my father or Ravenna by my side? The truth is they were secretly instructing me as to the persons whom I met, giving me their names, history, and the like. And yet in spite of many blunders on my part, no one seemed to have any suspicion as to the truth, not even the Duke of Bora. Listen," continued Barbara to the utterly bewildered marshal, "listen while I give you a secret chapter of my biography."
Zabern gave due heed; and though the story was one of the most marvellous and most romantic that had ever come under his notice, either in history or fiction, he was compelled to believe in its truth, for what motive could the princess have in fabricating such story?
But when he was made aware of the sacrifice which the cardinal had demanded of Barbara as the price of his silence, Zabern became first cold with horror, then hot with rage. A saint as regarded his own dealings withwomen, he viewed with peculiar aversion a priest addicted to illicit amours.
"By heaven, your Highness, if I had but known this three hours earlier I would have cut the villain's throat."
"And thereby, in the cardinal's words, have precipitated my immediate ruin. We must act warily. Listen."
And here Barbara proceeded to enlighten the marshal as to Redwitz of Zamoska, the guardian of the three sealed letters; and how on receiving intelligence of his uncle's imprisonment or death, the nephew was to despatch these missives,—one to the Russian Foreign Minister, a second to the Duke of Bora, and a third to the office of the "Kolokol" newspaper.
"A subtle knave!" smiled Zabern.
Himself born with a genius for plotting, the marshal took a keen zest in outwitting the plans of others, and in his view the cardinal's contrivance for safeguarding himself presented some interesting features.
"I fail to see why your Highness should fear the cardinal. You are so like Princess Natalie in face and figure that you can laugh at his threat to expose you on the coronation day. We will ascribe his statement to the malice of a disappointed ecclesiastic."
"Not so," replied Barbara, with a shake of her graceful head. "My sister Natalie had a mole upon her right shoulder, as the physicians who attended her birth, and the nurses and ladies who waited upon her, can prove. I have no such mark. Now, Zabern, never lacking in subtle counsel, you see my peril. Aid me. You defeated Lipski; now defeat the cardinal for me."
"A very easy matter. Why did not your Highness confide in me before?"
"How—easy? In what way do you propose to act?"
"In the first place, are you certain that no one knows your secret besides ourselves, Ravenna, and Captain Woodville? This Redwitz, for example?"
"The cardinal asserted that his nephew was ignorant of the contents of the three packets."
"Good! For my own part I do not think it probable that the cardinal would share so valuable a secret with others; his own self-interest would forbid it. Well, now," mused Zabern, "if we lay violent hands upon Ravenna the nephew over the border will send off the letters."
"That has been my fear."
"On the other hand, if I despatch an agent to the house of Redwitz to obtain possession of the letters, and it would be very easy to effect this—"
"Then Redwitz, discovering his loss, would notify the fact to the cardinal, who would thus become apprised of our design."
"True, princess; therefore our plan is obvious. Either the seizure of the papers and the seizure of the cardinal must take place coincidently, or—But leave it to me, your Highness," added Zabern, breaking off somewhat abruptly. "Let the cardinal enjoy his brief span of life at Rome. As soon as he returns he shall be secretly seized in his own palace, instantly gagged to prevent him from revealing anything even to his captors, and conveyed in a covered carriage to the oubliettes of the Citadel. He shall never see daylight again."
Much as the cardinal might deserve such fate, Barbara nevertheless could not repress a shudder.
"Marshal," she said, with a grave look, "it is a dangerous thing to seize, imprison, and execute a cardinal, a prince of the Church, without any pretence at a trial. The Pope—all Europe—will have something to say on the matter."
"Trial? We dare not try him, for then would he make known to the judges and others the very matter we wish to keep secret. Ours is a dangerous game, true; but it would be far more dangerous to let the villain live. Still,there is no need for his arrest; there are other and safer ways. The cardinal may disappear mysteriously, and then Marshal Zabern, the Minister of Justice, will offer a large reward, ay, and will give it, too, to any one who can tell what has become of the missing archbishop. Or," added Zabern, grimly, "he may be found to have committed suicide in his own palace."
Zabern spoke without the least scruple. He was not naturally cruel nor treacherous, but he reflected that the crown of Czernova was at stake, and with it, so he believed, the future liberation of Poland; and where these weighty matters were concerned, the secret removal of a cardinal was but a light thing in his eyes.
But Barbara was distressed. Must she resort to crime, she who had declared to the cardinal that her reliance was upon heaven? For her conscience refused to palliate Zabern's intended deed; the slaying of Ravenna without trial would be murder, and murder wrought to secure a title the validity of which she herself was beginning to question.
Zabern noted her look of pain.
"Your Highness, bestow no pity upon the cardinal; he deserves death, if ever man deserved it. Consider the case of your sister Natalie. Do not believe that she committed suicide. A maiden of seventeen, to whom life was just unfolding fair and bright, heiress to a crown, and affianced to a man whom she loved—heaven forgive her for her choice!—she had every inducement to live. Doubt not that the cardinal had a hand in her death. Give me leave to employ the rack upon him, and I'll soon extract the truth."
"You have my authority for his arrest and conveyance to the oubliettes of the Citadel. Solitary confinement and a deaf jailer, if you will; but murder—no!Fiat voluntas mea."
With that the interview terminated, and Zabern departed to reduce to practice the plan he had formed.
Four weeks afterwards he presented to the princess three small packets, each fastened with violet-colored wax, stamped with the image of a paschal lamb, a seal that recalled vividly to her mind the mysterious incidents connected with the cardinal's study at Castel Nuovo.
"There are Ravenna's documentary safeguards," laughed Zabern. "One half of our task is accomplished."
"How have you managed it?" asked Barbara.
"Katina's sister Juliska has been my agent. Going to Zamoska she succeeded in making acquaintance with a maid-servant belonging to the household of this Redwitz, who, it appears, is a Catholic priest. By the offer of a large bribe Juliska persuaded this girl to ask her master's leave to visit a dying brother in a distant part of Russia, the said dying brother being, of course, a mythical personage; in the meantime, the maid averred, her duties could be performed by a friend of hers then resident in Zamoska. The unsuspecting Redwitz gave his consent, and the pretty Juliska took up her residence under the priest's roof in the character of temporary servant.
"Fortunately for our plan one of her duties was to attend to the study of this Redwitz, and, making careful search in his absence, she soon lighted upon these three packets in a secret drawer of an escritoire. Having been provided beforehand with the necessary materials, namely, violet wax and the cardinal's seal, Juliska quickly made up three blank packets outwardly similar in all respects to the originals; and the latter being abstracted from the escritoire were replaced by the fac-similes."
Barbara, breaking the seals, proceeded to read the contents of the three missives, which were all couched in much the same terms. Each began by affirming that the then regnant Princess of Czernova was not Natalie Lilieska, and various circumstances were adduced in proof of this statement. The document then went on to assert, and the assertion brought the color of shame to Barbara'scheek, that the self-styled Natalie was the illegitimate daughter of the late Prince Thaddeus, and therefore legally debarred from reigning.
"Mother of God! can this be true?" murmured Barbara, with anguish at her heart.
The cardinal did not deny his own share in the plot by which Barbara had been raised to the throne, but rather took credit to himself in a matter, which, as he fondly hoped, would tend to advance the interests of the Catholic Church in Czernova. He concluded by stating that he lived in some fear of the princess, who viewed him with dislike, as being the sole depositary of her secret; therefore if he should be arrested, or should be secretly slain, or should mysteriously disappear, men would know to whom the deed should be ascribed.
Barbara, having read the documents, threw them upon the fire, and watched till they were consumed.
"Nothing now remains," remarked Zabern, "but to arrest the cardinal in the first moment of his return."
"There is another who threatens my safety. When, marshal, do you intend to seize Lipski, and his store of arms?"
"Not till the day before the coronation, so please your Highness."
"Where is the advantage in this delay?"
"Why, thus. If we arrest Lipski now we give the enemy opportunities of forming new plans, and of collecting fresh supplies of weapons, whereas a raid on the very eve of the coronation will throw the plotters into a confusion, from which they will not have time to recover."
"But if the arms should be carried forth before the 14th of September?"
"My spies are on the watch; of course if that should occur, I shall have to antedate my raid. Has Radzivil informed your Highness that the Czar is sending his representative to attend your coronation?"
"The same ambassador as before, the insolent-tongued Orloff, he who so strangely presumed to doubt the existence of our Charter? Let the court marshal appoint him a seat near the high altar, whence he can view our document at his leisure, nay, handle it, if he will," she added.
"The Charter!" muttered Zabern, grimly, as he withdrew from the presence of Barbara. "The Charter, humph; I'll not add to your present anxieties, princess, by stating the truth. Will that devil of an Orloff suspect my manœuvre?"
As the day assigned for the coronation drew near, the ancient and stately capital of Czernova began to assume a gala aspect. Flags waved in every street. Bright drapery wrought with mottoes decked the walls. Venetian masts and triumphal arches arose. In a word, all things deemed essential to a great state-pageant were in due course of preparation.
For the maintenance of order troops were drafted daily into Slavowitz, until one half at least of the Czernovese army was quartered in various parts of the capital.
The Muscovite populace, disposed at first to be wrathful at the holding of the coronation in a Catholic edifice, moderated their ire somewhat on learning that their own Archpastor Mosco was to take part in the solemnity, while the great cardinal, the object of their hatred, was to be entirely excluded.
Placards containing the words of the amended coronation oath were posted up in public places, that all might see that the princess would pledge herself at the altar to respect the rights both of the Greek and of the Latin churches.
The disaffected, who were hoping for riots on the coronation day, seemed fated to meet with disappointment, owing to the judicious and pacificatory policy of the princess's ministry.
That ministry took courage, and anticipated, nay, wereconfident, that the great day would pass off without disturbance.
Then came a bolt from the blue!
Early on the morning of the day prior to the coronation, Radzivil and Zabern sought the presence of the princess.
"Your Highness," said the premier, "a Russian army of one hundred thousand men is assembling at Zamoska."
Zamoska, distant but six miles from the frontiers of Czernova!
"A Russian army at Zamoska?" repeated Barbara.
"And commanded by the Czar in person," added Radzivil.
"What is the Czar's object in mustering his troops so near our own borders?"
"When the news reached us late last night," said the premier, "your ladies reported that you were in so sweet a sleep that it would be wrong to disturb you. I therefore took upon myself to send an envoy in your name to the Czar to inquire the reason for this massing of troops so close to our frontiers."
"You did quite right, my lord. Has the messenger returned?"
"A few minutes ago. And the explanation given is that the Russian army is gathering at Zamoska for the autumn manœuvres."
"You do not believe this story?" said the princess, turning to Zabern.
"Princess, no. You must nerve yourself to bear the truth. In my opinion the Czar is assembling his forces for the purpose of preventing your Highness's coronation."
"By what right?" exclaimed Barbara, with flashing eyes, and Zabern was glad to see that she who had most reason for fear showed far more spirit than Radzivil; "by what right?"
"By that right ever recognized by the world—theright of the strong," returned Zabern. "By open diplomacy and by secret intrigue, Russia has failed to sap the independence of Czernova; therefore she now resorts to the sword."
"And the foe without will be aided by traitors within," murmured the princess.
"If," said Zabern, with a glance of inquiry at Barbara, "if the Russians should enter our territory—?"
"We shall not cry 'quarter.' We shall meet them in arms."
"But, your Highness," remonstrated Radzivil, in a tone of dismay, "what hope have we of defeating them?"
"Very little," replied Barbara, "but what then, Count? Would you have me be as a saint upon cathedral window with folded hands and downcast eyes? Meekly submit to see my realm filched from me? Never! So long as there shall remain to me a man and a musket, so long will I offer resistance."
"Will not your Highness assemble the cabinet and the Diet?" asked the premier.
"And listen to timid, divided, or traitorous counsels? No! Marshal, you are the head of the army; give immediate orders for our troops to proceed to the frontier. Take what steps you deem best for the defence of the principality."
"Shall your Highness delay your coronation?" inquired Radzivil.
"And show Russia that we fear her? No. Let not the ceremony be delayed by so little as one hour. And when the solemnity is over then will I proceed direct from the cathedral to the camp. To arms! To arms! This last fragment of Poland shall not fall without making a valiant stand."
"There spake the spirit of your ancestors, the Jagellons," said Zabern. "Princess, you should have been born a man."
The dusk of a lovely autumnal eve had fallen over Slavowitz. Lights were beginning to twinkle along the boulevards.
The preparations for the coronation were complete. The clinking of the carpenter's hammer had ceased; the last bench had been put up; the last flag hung out. The streets had become fairy arcades festooned with flowers and colored lamps.
Crowds of sight-seers were abroad viewing the city decorations.
A numerous throng, composed principally of peasants from the more remote parts of Czernova, and who had never before seen their princess, moved to and fro in front of the Vistula Palace, calling for a sight of their fair ruler; and Barbara, responsive to their desire, appeared at intervals on the balcony smiling her acknowledgments, and occasionally waving a scarf—an action which drew forth rounds of applause.
The gayly decorated capital, brilliant with light, resonant on all sides with song and music, alive with an ever-moving, laughing populace, formed a picture difficult to associate with coming disaster.
"So hath many a city looked on the eve of its fall," murmured Barbara, as she turned away from the window. "Oh, Paul, why are you not with me? If you have a plan for the salvation of Czernova, now is the time for putting it forth."
By means of swift couriers despatched at intervals of every hour the princess was kept informed of the movements that were taking place along the frontier.
Early in the day the Russian army—horse, foot, and artillery—with the Czar Nicholas at its head, had set forward from Zamoska, and was now encamping within a mile of the Czernovese border. East and west for many a furlong stretched the armed line of one hundred thousand men. The Paulovski and Semenovski Guards were there, the most splendid in the imperial service; as well as the Tartar Guards, the Finland Guards, and other regiments drawn from the motley nationalities that compose the vast empire of the Czar. Picturesque Circassians, clad in silver mail, and mounted upon fiery steeds, pranced proudly along to the camping-ground marked out for them, discharging their pistols at the sun in the exuberance of their glee at the prospect of fighting and pillage.
Wild-looking Cossacks riding shaggy ponies were continually galloping up to the frontier-line with defiant cries as if challenging the Czernovese sentinels to fire; after which, with a menacing flourish of their lances they would career back to their own camp.
Russian generals, stately and bearded, could be seen standing on various points of elevated ground, coolly reconnoitring through field-glasses, and studying the topography of Czernova, as if purposing to conduct a campaign in the principality.
Two envoys successively despatched by the princess to the Russian camp to inquire into the meaning of these sinister doings had failed to return. The obvious conclusion was that they had been forcibly detained.
Barbara had resolved at all hazards to defend her throne; and accordingly, while a body of ten thousand troops was retained at Slavowitz for the preservation of order during the coronation, a second division of tenthousand, with Dorislas in command, had made their way to the frontier. Under the personal supervision of Zabern, artillery had been planted upon all the strategic points that commanded the road to Slavowitz.
It was a critical time. The Czernovese army lay encamped within sight of a force whose numerical superiority was as ten to one. On each side of the frontier Polish and Russian sentinels paced not one hundred yards apart; a chance shot from either side might easily bring on hostilities.
The princess's ministry lived in hourly dread of invasion, and though striving to put a bold front upon the matter, were secretly convinced that the sands of Czernovese liberty were fast running out.
In the midst of a melancholy revery, Barbara learned that the Duke of Bora was in the palace, desirous of an interview with her. She was not unprepared for his coming, and stern was her face as she descended to the White Saloon where the duke was in waiting.
At the foot of the staircase she was met by the captain of the palace-guard, who requested the watchword for the night; and taking the proffered tablet, the princess returned it inscribed with the words, "Fatherland and Liberty."
Lifting her eyes she perceived Zabern by her side.
"The duke has come," she whispered.
"All is ready," replied the marshal.
As Barbara entered the White Saloon, the duke bowed with a scarcely disguised smile of triumph. The recent Russian movement, as the princess had secret reason to know, was directed in his interests; with pitying grace he came as a sort of conqueror to make his terms with her.
Great at swordsmanship, Bora was not very shrewd in other matters, and none but a fool would have ventured to play the game that he was playing.
"I have come, fair cousin," he began, undeterred by her cold manner, "to remind you of your promise so frequently made—your promise to marry me."
Barbara made no reply, but regarded him with a look of sovereign disdain on her beautiful face.
"It is true," continued Bora, airily, "that you gave what you were pleased to call your final decision some weeks ago; still, the logic of events often compels one to revoke a decision."
"And why do you deem the present a favorable time for renewing your suit? What is this logic of events?"
Bora smiled mysteriously.
"I will say no more than this," he remarked, "that you will certainly live to regret the rejection of my suit."
"You evade my question. Let me then express what is in your mind. My lord, by favor of the Czar, you expect to reign over Czernova; you seek to usurp my throne. But knowing that so long as I live, your throne would always be insecure, you would make me your wife, not from love, not from generosity or pity, but merely to give validity to your title. Have I not read your cowardly motive aright?"
She had—accurately.
Unaware how much the princess had learned of his secret dealings, the fatuous Bora had come in the full assurance that the approach of a Russian army and the consequent rumors of annexation would have disposed her to welcome his suit as a means of retaining her throne. He now perceived his error. The princess was not so timid a person as he had thought. Her stern manner somewhat alarmed him. He began to regret his imprudence in thus venturing into her presence.
"In short, your grace, marriage with you is the only thing that can save me from deposition. Is not that what you would say?"
"You reject my suit? Good! Then let this interview terminate," said Bora, rising as if to depart.
The princess restrained him by a haughty gesture.
"Keep your seat, or I shall call the guard."
The duke obeyed, trembling now for his own safety. Never had he seen the princess looking so angry.
"Why, during the past twelve months, have you insulted me with vows of love, with offers of marriage?"
"Insulted? Why that word?" said the duke, striving to conceal his alarm under an assumption of dignity.
"Because while simulating affection for me you were secretly intriguing with my enemies."
"You have been listening to the aspersions of Zabern."
"I have been listening to the words of Lipski. Ah! you start, my lord, and well you may. You are not yet aware—for the affair was carried out very quietly—that a raid was made this afternoon upon Lipski's premises. His cellars were found to contain a vast store of arms. In the house, too, was a number of Russian agents, among them the spy, Ivan Russakoff. Lipski has made full confession."
"Of what?" muttered the duke, looking thunderstruck at the princess's statement.
"Of many things. Here is one. About a twelve-month ago there was established a new journal entitled the 'Kolokol,' mainly devoted to the libelling of myself and to the stirring-up of civil strife. Before the founding of that newspaper the Muscovites of Russograd were as loyal and law-abiding as the Poles themselves; under the influence of the 'Kolokol,' however, they have become restless, disorderly, inclined to sedition. Was that well done, John Lilieski?"
"What has this to do with me?"
"Much, for though Lipski might be editor, yet he who actually owned the paper, financed it, and secretly controlled its policy was none other than the Duke of Bora."
"A fable of Lipski's, invented to please the princess's ministers."
"We will see whether you adhere to that statement in the presence of Lipski, for you shall have the opportunity of facing your accuser. He likewise avers that his measure, the Secular Appropriation Bill, was in reality your work; he simply acted as your mouthpiece in the Diet. The money with which he corrupted the deputies was supplied by you, and came from Orloff, the governor-general of Warsaw."
"A falsehood. I affirm the story to be a falsehood."
"You devised a plot for the destruction of the Czernovese Charter. You wrote to Orloff desiring him to obtain the Czar's sanction for this scheme—a scheme which was, however, happily frustrated," added Barbara, not knowing how widely she erred from the truth.
"Lipski has been terrorized into saying whatever Zabern wishes," muttered the duke, moistening his dry lips with his tongue.
He saw that his treason had become known and proved; and for such treason as his there could be but one punishment—death! He glanced around the apartment, wondering whether her guards were really within call. In his desperation he would not have hesitated at slaying her, if by that deed he could have effected his escape.
Barbara drew forth a handkerchief marked with a dreadful dark stain. Instead of regarding it with a shudder as might have been expected, she pressed it affectionately to her lips.
"The blood of Trevisa," she said solemnly, "of Trevisa, the most faithful and loyal of my servants—slain at your instigation. Russakoff was paid to do the deed by Lipski, but Lipski took his instructions from the Duke of Bora."
"It's a lie."
"Katina Ludovska, though at the time she did notclearly see Lipski's face, has to-day recognized him by his voice, as the man who at the inn—Sobieski's Rest—offered to Russakoff the bribe of four hundred roubles. I have had Lipski brought here purposely to meet you. He is in the palace at the present moment. Your grace, come with me," said the princess, rising and motioning Bora to follow her. "Let me see you meet him with a denial. None more glad than I if you will do this. Come. Dare you?"
It seemed not. He shrank back from accompanying the princess to the adjoining ante-room, where sat both his miserable accomplice Lipski and the equally miserable Russakoff, each under the guard of a quaternion of soldiers.
"You virtually admit your guilt in refusing to face your accuser. The muskets found on Lipski's premises have been surreptitiously forwarded by Orloff with your knowledge and approval. To-morrow before break of day those arms were to have been distributed to a Muscovite mob rendered valiant by copious supplies of vodka. At a certain point along the intended route of the coronation procession, barricades were to be thrown up, and when firing and rioting had begun, a message was to be despatched to the camp of the Czar, urging him to come and save the Muscovites from massacre at the hands of the Poles. And the Czar, responsive to the appeal, would come to establish in Czernova what he would call a stable government, its stability to consist in the acceptance of his own suzerainty and in the establishment of his kinsman Bora upon the throne. The deposed princess might marry Bora, if she chose; if not, there is in Ladoga's gray lake an island fortress named Schlusselburg; there let her pass the remainder of her days. Such is the programme you would fain carry out to-morrow. My lord of Bora, you have played a dark game; it is time you received your reward."
The princess clapped her hands quickly, and at the sound every door of the White Saloon opened and through each there came marching a file of soldiers, two abreast. With quick silent footfall they advanced over the velvet carpet, and with a thrill of awe the duke perceived that all were carrying their arms reversed as at a funeral.
Deploying in their advance the files so moved as to form a double ring around the princess and the duke, and there they stood, terrible in their rigidity and silence.
The circle gave way and Zabern appeared, a chilling glare in his eye. At a sign from him one soldier with a swift motion pulled the duke's hands behind him, and in a moment more had corded his wrists, while a second pinned upon his breast a piece of white satin in shape like a heart.
At sight of this dreadful fabric designed to direct the aim of a firing party, the duke's courage fled; his knees smote together; he grew white to the very lips.
Only ten miles distant were one hundred thousand men ready to assist him to a throne; for all the aid they could now give him they might as well have been situated in the planet Mars.
"The firing-party awaits you in the quadrangle," said Zabern, as the guards closed up around the duke. "Forward!"
"Have a care what you do, Cousin Natalie," said Bora, scarcely able to speak from fear. "You will have to answer to the Czar for this."
"You speak treason with your last breath," said Barbara. "Answer to the Czar for executing a traitor in my own principality! What jurisdiction hath the Czar in Czernova?"
"Traitor!" cried Zabern, fiercely. "I would stab you with my own hand, though the Czar himself were by. To the quadrangle—forward!"
The murmur of the restless populace without penetrated to the interior of the palace, and was heard by the wretched duke. Was he to die with the sound of the coronation-mirth ringing in his ears?
In the ante-chamber Zabern halted his troop and returned to the side of the princess.
"This instrument lacks your Highness's signature," he remarked, presenting her with the warrant for the duke's execution.
"On occasions such as this," murmured Barbara, taking the document, "one is tempted to say with Saint Vladimir, 'Who am I that I should shed blood?'"
"And yet Vladimir shed a good deal, if history speak truth," responded Zabern, "and therefore became he a saint after Russia's own heart. Your Highness, this is no time for pity. It is a question of your life or the duke."
The princess appended a name to the warrant.
"I fear," observed Zabern, with a grave smile, "that the captain of the firing-party will question the authority of that signature."
The princess looked, and to her surprise saw that she had subscribed herself not "Natalie Lilieski," but "Barbara Tressilian!" She had unwittingly written her mother's maiden name.
She did not erase the signature, but proceeded to indite a fresh warrant. She wrote very slowly, pondering as she wrote. What would the real Natalie have thought, said, or done, if she were living now and saw her elder sister signing the death-warrant of her lover?
With a sigh she handed the document to the marshal, who immediately returned it with a very strange look. And there, staring at her from the paper, were the self-same words as before—"Barbara Tressilian!"
The princess had her superstitious moments, and this was one of them. That she should unintentionally havewritten the same twice seemed a confirmation of the misgiving that had troubled her for several weeks.
"This is the hand of heaven," she murmured, in a tone of awe, and laying down the pen. "Are not the illegitimate always called after their mother? I have written my true name. Marshal," she added in a fearful whisper, "it is Bora who should be on the throne, and I should be the prisoner of the Citadel."
"Your Highness, do not talk thus."
But Barbara paid little heed.
"I am tempted to summon the Diet, even at this late hour, and to reveal to them my secret history, the whole miserable story of my birth."
"You will bring ruin on Czernova if you do. What guarantee have you that the cardinal's story is true?"
"This," replied Barbara, pointing to her signature on the death-warrant.
The marshal shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly.
"And therefore, because you suspect yourself to be of illicit birth, you would tender your diadem to an assassin and a traitor. Then let the Czar himself lay down his power; true, he is the son of the Emperor Paul, but was Paul really the child of Peter III.? Catherine and Soltikoff, the chamberlain, could best answer that question. Princess, you are over-scrupulous. Your title to the throne is founded on a better right than that of the accident of birth. The sovereign rules by the will of the people, and are not the majority on your side? If the princely office were made elective, is there any candidate who would have the least chance of success against yourself? And,vox populi, vox Dei. What other sanction do you require?"
"The sanction of my own conscience. And to-morrow—to-morrow," she murmured in a tone of distress, "after taking the Holy Sacrament I must lay my hand upon the Charter—"
"Upon a forged document, rather," muttered Zabern, grimly to himself.
"And declare that 'I, Natalie Lilieska, do solemnly vow' to maintain its provisions, knowing that I am not Natalie Lilieska. No, Zabern, I cannot—I will not utter this falsehood."
"Then let the Pope avow himself a liar when in solemn conclave he assumes the style of Pio Nono, and ignores his true name of Giovanni Mastai."
"All men know of the Pope's change of name; there is no attempt at deception; but I claim to be other than I am. If I were certain of illegitimacy I would resign my power this very night."
"I see quite plainly," said Zabern, speaking with more freedom than he had hitherto employed towards the princess, "that if Czernova were handed over to the Czar, and your faithful ministers sent to Siberia, you would be very well content."
As he spoke the marshal drew his sabre.
"Do you bid me break the sword that has been so long used in the Polish cause? Must I retire hence to aid the Hungarians, to obtain that freedom which you would deny to us in Czernova?"
"No, marshal, no; we must not part. I will stand by those who have stood by me. Clinging to the hope that there is no dishonor on my name, I will hold to my crown."
"A wise decision, princess," replied Zabern, considerably relieved by her words. "And now as to the duke's execution."
"What, marshal? Would you have me sign his death-warrant when I am doubtful of my right to rule?—and sign it, too, in the name of one, who, strange as it may seem to us, loved him? No, I cannot sign this document with the name of Natalie."
"But your Highness cannot sign it with any other."
"Then I will not sign it at all."
"I greatly fear that your Highness will live to regret this clemency."
"Be it so."
The first glow of Barbara's anger had passed, and she listened to the voice of prudence. Though the duke richly merited death, yet his execution without trial would give the Czar a very convenient pretext for intervening in the affairs of Czernova.