An imperial lover

I was resting after my night of continued effort and anxiety when there was another interruption. Pierrot came to me with a troubled face, and announced the arrival of a messenger from the czar.

“He will take no gainsaying, monsieur,” he said; “I made a hundred excuses, but he must see your Excellency at once.”

I rose from my couch with a sigh, and Pierrot helped me to dress.

“Imperial messengers are unfortunately always importunate,” I remarked wearily; “and I have no doubt that this fellow has pressing business,” I added with a smile.

Pierrot’s face changed a little, too, and I think he enjoyed the situation.

“They had a fair start, monsieur,” he remarked quietly, “and M. de Lambert knows how to carry matters through.”

I laughed. “In love affairs he is at least conspicuously successful,” I said, “and he knows how to chastise a villain. How fared it with M. Apraxin when you reached Mentchikof’s house?”

“He had recovered enough to curse us and groan, monsieur,” Pierrot replied gravely; “he was badly bruised, I think, but he was also furious.”

“Not more so than any man would have been in like case,” I said; “he had been knocked about until there was but little breath left in him. A miserable knave he is, too, and deserved it all. By the way, Pierrot,” I added with a sudden resolution, “where is Prince Dolgoruky’s man Tikhon? I had forgotten him.”

“I have him yet, monsieur,” Pierrot replied, with his usual imperturbable calm; “he is below, in the ironed room, and I have seen to his comfort.”

I laughed a little. “The rascal deserved punishment,” I said; “but it seems to me that he has received a fair portion. You must let him go, Pierrot; he can do no harm now, and a longer detention will only increase the ill-will of the prince his master, and I have enough of that already, without going on to accumulate it.”

“I will let him go immediately, M. le Vicomte,” Pierrot replied quietly; “but I think he richly merited all he has received and more. He is but a spy and a coward, in any case.”

“We must show mercy if we expect it, Pierrot,” I said gravely, “and Tikhon will surely reap his own reward. A man who has no higher aim than to be another’s spy and tale-bearer and hired assassin soon finds his compensation. If he does not die by a pistol-shot or a knife-thrust, he will presently get his head into a halter; therefore let him go with a light heart.”

My toilet being now accomplished, I left my bedroom, and, walking leisurely through the ante-rooms, entered the salon, where the imperial messenger awaited me with great impatience. He was a young man by the name of Shein, a relative of the Boyar Shein, whom I knew to be close to the person of the czar; he was chafing under the delay which on my part was intentional. He greeted me with the respect due to my person, but came immediately to the substance of his errand.

“M. de Brousson,” he said, with an air of importance, “I am charged with a message from his imperial Majesty the Czar, bidding M. de Lambert, a gentleman of your suite, to be present at the palace this morning by ten o’clock to receive certain instructions and commands from his Majesty.”

I listened with a composure that ruffled the young fellow, who was elated with the importance of his errand. Without immediately replying, I seated myself in the great chair by the hearth, and, looking around at him, allowed him to see that I was so little disturbed by the order that I could take time to reflect upon my reply.

“Your master should have sent this message twelve hours ago,” I remarked calmly. “His Majesty had impressed upon me his desire that M. de Lambert should leave Moscow, and, acting solely from deference to his wishes, I endeavored to fulfil his commands to the letter; therefore this order is unhappily too tardy for me to respond to it with the alacrity that I should desire to show to any command of the czar.”

Shein looked at me anxiously. “Do you mean, M. le Vicomte, that the bird has flown?” he asked eagerly.

“I should scarcely refer to M. de Lambert in that language,” I replied, smiling; “but I do mean that he left Moscow in obedience to the czar’s wishes.”

The young man looked thoroughly nonplussed and badly frightened. He saw that they had been outwitted, and saw too, probably, the inevitable consequences. Knowing so well Peter’s violent nature, I remarked Shein’s open consternation with extreme amusement.

“He must come back immediately,” he exclaimed, assuming an air of tremendous importance; “he can be overtaken. By which road did he travel, monsieur? It behooves me to know, that I may obey the czar’s orders, which are absolutely imperative and permit no evasion.”

I shrugged my shoulders, aware that my unshaken composure was exasperating the boy beyond endurance.

“M. de Lambert is on the road to Versailles,” I replied, telling him half the truth, and suppressing the other half with keen enjoyment of the probable bewilderment of the pursuers. “You had best return to the czar, M. Shein,” I added calmly, “for fuller instructions. Pursuit at this late hour would be fruitless and foolish; I do not believe that his Majesty would authorize it.”

The boy bit his lip, and frowned at me with a perplexed countenance. He was not entirely convinced that I spoke the truth, and scarcely knew what course to pursue. It was evident that he scarcely dared to return to the czar with empty hands, and he fretted under my cool and smiling glance. I was amused even while I felt it cruel to torment an inexperienced youth; he stood in the middle of the room, fingering the hilt of his sword and moving uneasily.

“Take my advice, M. Shein,” I said gravely: “return to his Majesty for instructions. The loss of an hour can harm you but little, and many a wiser man has met with disaster by running too wildly upon a thankless errand. The royal mind is large, and grasps so many schemes that there is constant shifting; the wind may set in another quarter by the time that you return from a fruitless errand, and you will earn no thanks. A wise man trims his sails to the breeze; take the advice of one who has piloted through many a stormy sea at court: neither neglect your instructions nor exceed them,—either course is dangerous. You are a young man, M. Shein, be warned.”

He shot a glance at me of mingled anger and doubt, and it was manifest that he began to waver in his original determination. There was no one more uncertain in temper than Peter, and the young man saw evil results on either hand. However, after a little hesitation he evidently decided that nothing was gained by delay and turned to leave the room, but on reaching the door, paused suddenly and addressed me.

“I was also instructed, M. l’Ambassadeur,” he said, “to inquire if Najine Zotof was still under Madame de Brousson’s protection.”

I shook my head, smiling at the thought of my late interview with Madame Zotof.

“Mademoiselle is no longer with us,” I replied with frankness; “she left us at a late hour last night.”

“And is with her guardians?” he asked persistently.

“You must ask Madame Zotof,” I said calmly.

He flushed with anger at my indifference to his importance.

“I ask for his imperial Majesty,” he declared haughtily.

But I only continued to regard him with a smile. “I understand that, M. Shein,” I replied composedly, “but I cannot perform miracles even for the czar. I cannot produce mademoiselle when she is not with us; neither can I tell you where she may be at this moment.”

He had his hand upon the door, but made me an obeisance.

“I have discharged my errand, your Excellency,” he said gravely, “and shall return to the czar and report the result of my endeavors.”

“You will do well to do so before going on a thankless errand, monsieur,” I replied cheerfully.

“I am not sure of the wisdom of that, M. l’Ambassadeur,” he retorted tartly; “I only trust that it may not be my painful duty to return here shortly with more stringent orders.”

There was a veiled threat in his words and look, and I rose from my chair.

“You are young, M. Shein,” I said haughtily, “therefore I will treat you with forbearance; but you forget that you address a marshal of France.”

“And you forget also, M. l’Ambassadeur,” he replied, “that I am the messenger of his Majesty the Czar of all the Russias.”

“On the contrary, I remember, young sir,” I said curtly, “else I should scarcely have listened with such patience to your questions, which were at once fruitless and impertinent.”

The young fellow flushed deeply, and I was half sorry that his arrogance had merited such a rebuke, for I saw that he was burning for that revenge which he could not obtain from my years and my rank.

“You have the advantage of me, M. le Vicomte,” he said gravely; “you rejoice in personal impunity.”

“Pshaw!” I replied with more good-humor, “you should respect my years, M. Shein. Go upon your errand, and remember that young men must endure something before they learn the lessons of life.”

But my forbearance did not restore his good-humor, and he withdrew with a flushed and angry face, which, however, only amused me, for he was, after all, a harmless enough young man, and merely elated with the importance of his errand and the imperial confidence; for those close about the person of the czar felt for him an almost exaggerated reverence and affection.

After Shein left me, I sat for some time reflecting on the probabilities of M. de Lambert making good his escape; the chances were all in his favor. It was true that he had only a few hours’ advantage, for I knew that the Zotofs would lose no time, but I had taken pains to mislead them, and they would probably start upon the road to Versailles, while M. de Lambert and his bride were travelling rapidly to Poland, and he had the additional advantage of having his passports on his person. What had been intended as an insult would probably be an assistance: such are the happy accidents of fate. I had arranged that a message should be sent to me at the first stop for a change of horses, and while I was thinking of the matter, Pierrot brought me word that the men had arrived with a message from M. de Lambert. They had reached the first post in safety and without pursuit; so far all was well. The messenger had seen them start out with fresh horses before leaving to bring the tidings; they had therefore the advantage of several hours, and would probably outstrip all pursuit. These were good tidings, and I felt that I had cause to rejoice, but knew that I should presently have a second message from the czar which might be of quite another character. In the mean time I received word from Mentchikof that he desired to see me, and, knowing that this might mean a fresh complication, I lost no time in obeying, rather glad of the opportunity to be rid of his signet ring, which having served its turn was becoming a burden to me. It was a bad day when I went out, and, the wind striking my face, I lowered my head and hurried on unattended. The streets were slippery, and more than once I nearly lost my footing, but, at last reaching Mentchikof’s palace, I was glad to find the warmth and glow of the fire in the great hall. Leaving my cloak below, I went up the stairs and was at once admitted to the presence of the favorite.