The rebellion of the Princess

NO sooner was Michaud’s information explained to the dwarf than the latter fell into a reverie, rubbing his chin with his forefinger and puckering up his forehead in that monkey-fashion which never failed him in time of thought, when it always seemed to me that his ears moved also. For my part, I was not inclined to reflections, but to action; if the Princess Daria was in the Kremlin, I would be there too. But there was a difficulty to be surmounted first; my Streltsi captors had relieved me of all the money I had upon my person, and I had only put three roubles and a few kopecks in my pocket when I visited our quarters; it would, therefore, be necessary for me to go there, not only for more money, but for a stock of ammunition, before I attempted to pass the gates of the Kremlin. Meanwhile Maluta had evidently reached a conclusion, and asked me the name of the soldier who knew Michaud, for the dwarf and the apprentice could only communicate by signs, neither understanding the other’s language. I repeated the question to our knave and he shrugged his shoulders sullenly.

“I know not, monsieur,” he replied; “’tis one of their villainous names that make a man sneeze and then forget them.”

This I did not translate, but told Maluta that he did not know the Streltsi’s name.

“Ask him if it is Grotsky?” said the dwarf shrewdly.

Michaud was not sure, but thought it might be. He described the man, however, as tall, black-haired, and with a cast in the left eye. Maluta nodded when this was translated to him; and held out his small, claw-like hand.

“Give me money, O excellency,” he said in his shrill voice, “for ’tis for money that men sell their souls—and for drink, their understanding.”

I put the rouble and the few kopecks that I had left in his hand, but he was by no means satisfied.

“Prebavit!” he cried shrilly, stamping his foot, “prebavit! Can thy servant buy a soul for a rouble or twenty kopecks?”

“Some souls would be dear at that, Maluta,” I said drily, “and you have drained my purse.”

But he stamped the more. “’Tis not enough, O my master,” he said, “prebavit, prebavit!”

“Maître le Bastien, for the nonce, I must even borrow of you,” I said.

Whereupon the goldsmith gave me ten roubles more, though he was open in his disapproval.

“All this will lead to nothing but misfortune,” he said, “and, after all, ’twould have been wiser to let you fall into the hand of his majesty’s provost-marshal.”

“Ah, monsieur,” I said, “you do not know the Princess Daria.”

Le Bastien shook his head despairingly. “No,” he replied, “and ’tis well I do not, since she can turn a sane man’s head so completely.”

While he was speaking I was giving the money to the dwarf, and trying to fathom his plans, but to no purpose, he would tell nothing—only looked at me, in an elfish fashion.

“Let be, O excellency,” he said; “I will go to the Kremlin and by nightfall I will return to you, then we will go together, and we will find the Princess Daria, if she is still in the fortress.”

My faith in his acuteness was growing to be almost a superstition, but it was too much to ask me to wait from noon until nightfall, and I told him so.

“You must wait,” he replied wisely. “You cannot go—as I can—in and out of the palaces and the cathedrals; you are big—a tall man,” he measured me with his eye, as though he thought me a giant. “Such a man cannot hide—any more than the Tower of Ivan Veliki can hide among the churches! I must find where the lady is, and then I must come for my master. Nay, fear not—she is safe to-day and to-morrow and the day after; not even Sophia Alexeievna rules to-day, but only the Streltsi. They have mobbed the Department of Justice and Serfage; they have thrown the papers in the street, they have threatened the Danish Resident, they would have killed the patriarch. Sophia will do nothing yet to the princess, for she has hidden her, and to-night we will find her.”

“Nay, now we will find her,” I said, determined to go with him.

But he fell on his knees. “Have I failed you at all, O excellency?” he cried.

I was forced to admit that he had, on the contrary, saved my life and hers.

“Then give me two hours—two hours and eleven roubles, O my master,” he said, “and surely I may buy a man’s soul and also his body—for there is vodka yet in the cellar—where, they know not—and red wine.”

“The little fellow talks sense, monsieur,” said the goldsmith; “I pray you be ruled; give him, at least, two hours. It is madness for you to attempt the Kremlin now. Until they find the poor Jew, Von Gaden, they will suspect every man in foreign clothes. Come, therefore, to our quarters; two hours of rest, and food, and more money will but prepare you for this desperate adventure.”

I knew there was truth in his argument, and my need of money was absolute if I was to take the princess out of Moscow. So, hard as it was to wait, I yielded, at last, to their entreaties, and went back to our quarters for two hours’ rest, of which I stood in great need, and for money and another pistol.

Prince Galitsyn had kept his promise and sent Maître le Bastien a guard of Streltsi; a score of villainous-looking knaves who were as ready to rob us as to watch us, and sat about the court-yard making frequent demands for brandy and meat, and their presence proving a cause for fresh alarms to the goldsmith, who kept the shutters up and the doors bolted and busied himself hiding his valuables in the earth of the cellar, assisted by Michaud. Meanwhile, stretched myself on my bed, in my clothes, resolved to rest but a few moments; however, we are only human, and my body was worn out with continued exertions and loss of sleep, and I had hardly touched the pillow before I dropped off into the heavy slumber of sheer exhaustion.

My room being in the second story, the shutter of the one window was open and the red glow of sunset shone full in my face when I awoke, and, for a moment, kept me from seeing Maluta, who was standing beside me, watching my slightest movement. With the return of consciousness came back the memory of my situation, and I started up, and began to snatch up my weapons. The sweet air of a May evening came softly in at the casement, and with it far-off sounds, harsh cries, and discordant music.

“Where is she?” I cried. “Why have I slept like a brute? Where is the Princess Daria?”

“She is safe,” replied the dwarf gravely, “and ’tis well that my master slept, for we must work to-night and travel to-night, if we would get her away, from the czarevna and from Kurakin.”

I had, by this time, arranged my disordered clothing and belted on my weapons, and now I hid a bag of gold upon my person.

“Was the money sufficient?” I asked eagerly.

He nodded gravely. “The souls were cheap this day,” he said solemnly. “I bought two for nine roubles and two kopecks, and the rest of the money I put into good liquor, and the drug that they keep in the Gostinnoi Dvor, in the street of sweet perfumes and spices and myrrh and aloes.”

By this he referred to the divisions of the Gostinnoi Dvor, or great bazaar, where every commodity had a separate street, and a man could find only silk merchants in one avenue, and dealers in jewels—opals and pearls and the great amethysts of Russia—in another.

“Come, then,” I said with impatience, “let us go!”

He nodded his assent, and without more delay we descended the stairs together, and I went to bid Maître le Bastien farewell. I found him burrowing, like a mole, in the cellar.

“The Prince Galitsyn means well to me,” the good man said earnestly, “but these Streltsi have already demanded a rouble apiece, a flagon of good brandy, and ten loaves of rice bread, besides the pickled mushrooms and the fine sterlet, that I would have kept for my dinner! Moreover, Michaud and I are spent with hard labour, but, praised be the saints! everything is buried now but the great vase, and that being for Sophia, I think they will leave it.”

“Unless they sell it to satisfy their stomachs,” I replied; “but adieu, Maître le Bastien, I go on a perilous enterprise, and may not soon see you again.”

The goldsmith wiped his eyes surreptitiously, and then shook my hand heartily.

“Farewell,” he said; “you go against my counsel and my will, but yet—I suppose, if I were young, I would do likewise! But, I pray you, be cautious, if you can, and if I can do aught——”

“But you cannot, monsieur,” I interrupted heartily, “nor do I wish you in this tangle,” and I bade him a hasty farewell and hurried away, lest he should delay me by more arguments.

It took us a few moments more to get past our own Streltsi, and then Maluta and I struck off into the lanes that led through some byways to the Kremlin, avoiding the short route which would have taken us into the crowded quarter.

The city still wore its desolate air and, by contrast with the sky, yet glowing with sunset, it seemed dark and haunted with the grimmest of shadows. Close-shuttered windows and barred doors surrounded us; not a woman looked out, not a child ran in the court-yards, and if we chanced on a peaceful citizen, he skurried away at the sight of an armed man. As we neared the Gate of Saint Nikolas, I saw that it was occupied by a guard of Streltsi, and the dwarf signed to me to advance slowly, while he began to whistle softly, holding his hands over his mouth. Then I saw one of the guards at the gate lounge toward us, and began to suspect Maluta’s designs. When the soldier had placed a few yards between himself and his comrades, he quickened his steps and the dwarf whispered to me to keep close to the wall of the house, in front of which we had halted, while he sidled forward, crab-fashion, to meet the Streltsi; and I saw that he must have saved some money, for it changed hands before my eyes. Then he called to me in a low voice:

“We will go forward now, excellency,” he said. “Way here, for the ambassador to their czarish majesties!” he added, in his shrillest tone, clapping his hands.

The soldier bowed low and saluted, and then walked before me, with Maluta, crying:

“Way for the ambassador to the czar and czarevitch!”

The Streltsi at the gate stared curiously; they had been well enough supplied with liquor to be happy, but they could not let me pass until one of their number, who knew Von Gaden, was called.

“Is this the Jew doctor?” they demanded, “for, by Saint Nikolas of Mojaïsk, he shall not escape us!”

But the fellow, happily, shook his head. “This is not the Jew!” he declared.

And my Streltsi, all the while, cried out:

“’Tis an ambassador from the French King to their czarish majesties; the okolnitchy bade me pass him. Way there, or your beards will be plucked out by the roots, and ye will have the pravezh!”

But I found a speedier remedy, and quietly drew some money from my wallet and cast a handful of it among them, and in the fierce scramble for it, I slipped through the gate and hurried away towards the Red Place, at the top of my speed, with Maluta at my heels. I who, but yesterday, had struggled so hard to get out of the Kremlin, had now paid high to be in again, and rejoiced at my good fortune. I clapped my hand on the dwarf’s shoulder.

“Maluta,” I cried, “you deserve to be a prime minister, I——”

But he put his finger on his lips, and catching hold of the skirt of my coat, hurried along under the shadow of the Cathedral of Saint Basil the Blessed. At last he stopped and pointed at a narrow door in the lower part of the Palace of Facets.

“Yonder,” he whispered, “beyond that door, is a room with no windows, and in it is the Princess Daria.”

I caught my breath sharply. “Let us go in,” I cried.

But he seized my sleeve. “Stay,” he whispered, and his thin, three-cornered face showed white in the dusk.

“In the entry there is a soldier, but he drinks good wine,” he said, “wine that thy servant bought, and also the stuff from the Gostinnoi Dvor, and at this hour he troubles us but little. But one false step—one outcry—one whisper—and——”

He put his hand to his throat with a significant gesture.

“It is death,” he said, “for you—and for her, the shaved head!”

And that was a living death for a Russian woman.