"When I first entered," observed Paul, "smoke hung about the place."
An enthusiastic orator in the Diet had once described Zabern as "the man who had never known fear." The statement, if true at the time of the utterance, was certainly not true now. Fear in all its power fell upon the heart of the marshal as his eye caught sight of a passage in the paper which he held: "Risk of discovery in transmitting document. Therefore burn as soon as seized."
"Hell shall seize you, fellow, if you have done so!" he cried. "Did you come provided with a key, then? Where is it?"
Still Michael made no reply. Zabern, following the direction of his eyes, perceived a key lying upon the floor. The marshal placed it within the lock of the chest, turned it, raised the lid, and saw that the coffer contained nothing but a heap of charred parchment. Zabern, his mouth drawn in an agony that showed all his white teeth, rose, and with a dreadful look in his eyes turned slowly round upon the guilty man.
A cry for mercy rang through the chamber as the marshal sprang forward with drawn sabre. His was not a 'prentice hand; he knew exactly where to find the fifth rib. A swift stab,—the fall of a body, and then all was silent, save for the mournful plash of the rain outside.
Paul was shocked by the ferocity of Zabern's action, which had been performed with a quickness that left no time for intervention.
"Without a court-martial!" he said, severely. "We act not so in England."
"I dare not let him live to see those fellows outside again, lest they should learn from him what he has done. Not a hint as to his deed must ever get abroad; for he who knows it holds the destiny of Czernova in the hollow of his hand. Not even to a secret tribunal must the truth be whispered. And, Captain Woodville," continued Zabern, raising his dripping sabre with so menacing an air that Paul immediately stepped backward, and set hand to his own sword-hilt, "if I thought that you could not hold your peace I would slay you, too."
"What has he done?" asked Paul, impressed by the marshal's strange manner.
"The blackest deed that could be done against the princess, and one that has destroyed the liberties of a whole people. Your decipherment of the secret despatch has come too late to do us good,—too late. Oh! the bitterness of it, by a few moments only."
"I am still in the dark, marshal."
"On what is the liberty of Czernova based? On the Charter granted to us by Catherine of Russia. And that Charter is now burnt paper. This is the first act in the drama. The next will be, as this despatch shows, the appearance of an envoy from the Czar to demand on what grounds Czernova, formerly a part of Russian Poland, claims to be independent. What answer can we give? What title can we show? Without our Charter we are completely at the mercy of the Czar. His ministers will loudly affirm that such Charter was never granted, that we have obtained autonomy by a lying statement, that all extant copies of the Charter are based upon a mythical document, that its mention in history is no proof of its past existence. 'Let us see the original,' will be their cry. 'Produce the autograph signature of the Empress Catherine.' Now do you understand the crime that this miscreant has wrought?"
The diabolical nature of the plot struck Paul with a feeling akin to horror. His thoughts immediately flew to Barbara, sleeping peacefully at that moment in her distant quarter of the palace, all unconscious of this new peril that threatened her throne. He felt little pity now for the slain wretch lying at his feet.
"Why did he not carry off the document to Russia?"
"The secret despatch assigns the reason. It was more expedient to destroy it as soon as it fell into his hands. The sequel proves the serpentine wisdom of Orloff. Had this fellow concealed the Charter upon his own person it would now be in our keeping again. Oh! I could tear out my eyes for having kept such sorry watch! 'Warden of the Charter' is one of my titles. A pretty warden, truly! Fortunately you and I alone know that Russia's plot has succeeded, for those sentries at the end of the corridor are ignorant of it; in fact they do not even know that the Charter was kept here, in this, the Eagle Tower."
"I fear, marshal, that there are others who know," said Paul, picking up a lantern with a blue glass slide. "This was flashed to and fro at the window,—what else but as a signal to some distant watcher that the Charter is no more?"
The marshal ground his teeth as he recognized the force of Paul's inference.
"Then we may expect the Czar's envoy at an early date," he replied. "This villain," he continued, examining the window, "gained ingress by removing the concrete in which the bars were embedded,—a task which must have occupied two or three nights. What were the patrol on the roof doing to allow of this?"
"He himself was one of the patrol," said Paul, quickly adding, "Ah! that reminds me. There is a second fellow on the battlements whom I knocked senseless with his own rifle."
"Another? By heaven, Captain Woodville, you have done wrong in forgetting him. If he should have escaped with the tidings of what has been done!"
Zabern darted from the chamber, and, rushing past the three sentinels standing at the end of the corridor, he ran up a winding staircase that led to the roof. He was closely followed by Paul. The traitor-sentry was still lying in the place where Paul had left him. Zabern's examination did not last a moment.
"He will never play the traitor again," remarked the marshal. "You have shattered his skull for him. And without a court-martial, too!" he added, dryly.
Having called up Gabor and his two companions, Zabern directed them to inter the two bodies, at the same time enjoining the trio to observe strict secrecy upon the events of that night; after which orders he proceeded to pace moodily to and fro upon the battlements in company with Paul, who, puzzled by one circumstance in the affair, sought enlightenment of the marshal.
"Since Orloff's letter authorizing the plot was not delivered to its intended recipient but fell into your hands, how comes it that the plot has nevertheless been carried out?"
"Two messengers may have been sent, each carrying a similar communication; or it may be that when Russakoff did not return within an assigned time, Orloff, growing alarmed, despatched a second letter, which, alas! has produced the desired result."
"Do you believe that the Czar is really accessory to this plot?"
"Accessory? Why not its author?" queried Zabern, ever ready to see in the Czar the incarnation of wickedness. "There is a Byzantine finesse about this plot which accords very well with the character of Nicholas, who has been styled a 'Greek of the Lower Empire.' But whether accessory or not, be sure that he will avail himself of the weapon with which the action of his subordinates has supplied him. You know who works the plot on this side of the Czernovese border."
"The Duke of Bora?"
"Who but he? And yet I still lack decisive proof of his treason. I fear I acted somewhat too hastily in slaying Michael the guardsman. I should have endeavored first to extract the names of his principals. I am without hold upon the duke."
Paul here ventured to remind the marshal of Bora's suspicious conduct in burning his copy of the poet Æschylus.
"True," replied Zabern, "that the cipher despatch depends for its solution upon 'The Eumenides,' and equally true that the duke burns a book containing this same play. But what of that? 'Mere coincidence,' his defenders would reply. Besides, I dare not bring the duke to trial, either secretly or openly, upon this charge."
"'I dare not' from the marshal!"
"Why, consider. I should have to proclaim to his judges the startling fact that Czernova is now without her Charter, a secret that must be kept concealed from all men; nay, even from the princess herself. Captain Woodville, let not her Highness know of this loss. She has political embarrassments enough already. Why should we spring a new trouble upon her?"
"Count me tongue-tied, marshal, where the princess's peace of mind is concerned."
Zabern continued to pace backwards and forwards, glancing from time to time at the translation of the cipher letter which he still held in his hand, and muttering language, the drift of which was not altogether clear to Paul.
"What is this? Lipski's measure approved because its success would justify Russia in annexing Czernova. Ha! so that's the motive that prompts Lipski's action. His bill is aimed not so much at the Catholic Church of Czernova as at the Convent of the Transfiguration. Some inkling of the interior workings of that monastery has reached him, and he would fain turn the light of publicity upon them. No wonder that Orloff desires this bill to pass, and that he is sending Lipski rouble-notes with which to corrupt the Polish members of the Diet. 'Money shall be forwarded by usual route.' Ha! I'll set a watch on Lipski, and on those who visit him. 'T were no great shame if some of those rouble-notes should find their way to our own Exchequer. Humph! Czernova at present is in a truly critical state. But, no matter," he added, with his face grimly set, "let perils come! They shall find me equal to them. What said Peter the Great: 'It takes three Jews to outwit a Russian'? It will take a good many Russians to outwit a Zabern."
Next morning Paul by command attended in the White Saloon, where, under the sweet tuition of the princess herself, he was initiated into the duties of his new office. Doubtless his affection for Barbara caused him to infuse into his work an earnestness and an energy which he might not otherwise have felt; however, be that as it may, when in the course of a few days Barbara avowed that he was an ideal secretary, she was uttering no empty compliment.
Those who had ascribed Paul's appointment to love on the part of the princess were somewhat perplexed on observing the demeanor of each towards the other, for, however tender and familiar their intercourse in private, they did not permit their affection to betray itself in public by look, word, or sign, Paul always evincing the modest deference of an inferior, while Barbara maintained towards her new secretary the authoritative dignity of a princess. The quick-witted Zabern was not to be deceived by this acting, but whatever he may have thought of the wisdom of the princess's choice, the prudent marshal kept his own counsel; for, strange as the statement might have sounded to the rest of the Czernovese ministry, Paul's sword, and his alone, would be absolutely indispensable to the security of the princess's crown in a certain contingency of the future, as the marshal, who was a far-seeing man, very well knew.
As regards Cardinal Ravenna that ecclesiastic had smiled sourly to himself on hearing of Paul's appointment to the secretaryship, but he did not deem the time yet ripe to electrify Czernovese with the announcement that their princess was not Natalie Lilieska. Indeed on the third day after the interrupted duel Ravenna had received a summons from Rome to attend an important conclave there. The cardinal much preferred Slavowitz to the Vatican. Barbara's attitude of defiance towards himself, together with the friendship that had so suddenly sprung up betwixt Zabern and Paul, gave him much uneasiness; but as it was not to his interest to disobey the command of Pio Nono the cardinal had departed for Rome, and for a time Barbara was relieved from his menacing presence. But for a time only. He would return, and his return would be the beginning of trouble.
So passed many days during which the Duke of Bora remained a prisoner in the Citadel, though Barbara's action in detaining him there without trial had been the subject of a very pertinent question in the Diet by Lipski, the Muscovite deputy for Russograd, a question to which Zabern had curtly answered that it was a matter which did not concern the honorable deputy; whereupon the said honorable deputy made reply (and it took him two hours to say it) that inasmuch as the duke was a member of the Diet, it did concern both himself and every other member; and that freedom had come to a pretty pass in Czernova when deputies who gave offence could be arrested by the arbitrary will of an irresponsible maiden, and could even find ministers to defend her action. When Lipski had sat down amid the cheers of his Muscovite supporters, Zabern deprived the tirade of most of its points by showing that the duke had made a voluntary surrender of himself with full knowledge that he would be detained during the princess's pleasure, and that if the duke on reflection had repented of the step he had taken, it was quite open to him to appeal to the law of Czernova, which was more powerful even than the will of the princess.
But Bora declined this course, knowing that if he should be tried in a legal way his sentence would be an imprisonment of six months; therefore, though chafing daily and secretly vowing vengeance upon Paul, he deemed it more politic to await the pleasure of the princess.
This debate in the Diet did not cause Barbara to release the duke one day earlier than the time previously fixed by her, for the fair ruler of Czernova could be extremely self-willed when she chose, as those who had opposed her had often found to their cost.
One morning as Paul entered the White Saloon to commence his usual duties, Barbara, with a glance at his face, said,—
"The mark has disappeared from your cheek, Paul, and therefore it is time for the release of Bora, according to my word; unless," she added, deferentially, "unless you are opposed to it."
Though lacking proof, Paul did not doubt that the duke was a traitor; and, moreover, he strongly suspected him of having instigated the assassination of Trevisa; otherwise it mattered little to Paul whether Bora was free man or prisoner.
He offered, however, no opposition to the duke's release, feeling not a little flattered that the princess should have submitted such a question to himself.
An order was accordingly despatched to the governor of the Citadel for the liberation of the duke; and now Barbara braced her mind to meet the fresh trouble that she felt to be in store for her. "For," she murmured to herself with a sigh, "when Bora shall hear from my own lips that he must abandon the idea of marrying me, he is certain to become my enemy." Here, however, Barbara erred in supposing that antagonism from the duke would be a new thing, inasmuch as Bora could hardly become a greater enemy in the future than he had been in the past. That same evening Paul in the quietude of his own compartment received a visit from Zabern, who looked somewhat more grave than usual.
"You were quite right in your opinion," he remarked, "that the blue light flashed at the window by Michael the guardsman was a signal to some distant watcher. The loss of our Charter has become known to others. The plot is developing. Whom, think you, we shall have in Slavowitz on the third day from this? Feodor Orloff!"
"Feodor Orloff!"
"None but he. He comes in the sacred character of envoy of the Czar, desiring an audience of the Princess of Czernova. You can guess the object of his coming?"
"To demand a view of the Czernovese Charter!"
"What but that?"
"Marshal, we do wrong in continuing to conceal the truth from the princess. She is of firm and courageous mind, and can bear to hear of the loss. If, after the envoy shall have formulated his demand, she should send for the Charter—what then?"
"But she will not send for it. I have counselled her to resist that, and every other demand made by the envoy. The princess will assume an attitude of graceful refusal. Trust me, she will know how to evade his demands. When it is a matter of diplomatic finesse and word-fencing, she can leave her ministers far behind."
Three days later at noon the Princess Natalie Lilieska—to employ her state-name—prepared to give audience to Count Feodor Orloff, the governor-general of Warsaw, and envoy extraordinary of his Imperial Majesty the Czar, Nicholas the First.
A few minutes previous to this interview a singular scene took place in a private apartment of the palace reserved for the use of Zabern. Just as the marshal was preparing to quit this sanctum to attend the reception of the envoy, the door opened, and Katina Ludovska appeared escorted by a file of troopers. The latter having saluted, withdrew, leaving Katina alone with the marshal.
"So my spies have found you at last," he said, with an air of grim satisfaction. "Where have you been hiding for the last two days?"
"It is true, then, that I have been arrested by your orders?" she cried with an angry flash of her eyes.
"Quite true. This apartment must be your abode for the next few days. See how pretty I have made it for you by introducing into it some of the princess's own furniture and hangings! True, the windows are barred, but you will not mind such trifles."
"Why am I here?"
"For the saving of your life. Do you know, Katina, that if you should shoot Orloff, I, as Minister of Justice, would have to see that you were hanged?"
"So you have divined my purpose?" she said, with a bitter smile.
"And must frustrate it. Come, Katina, be sensible. Would you violate the common law of nations? In assassinating the Czar's ambassador you would be playing the very devil with the public safety. Nicholas would have good pretext, then, for annexing Czernova."
"And you would rob me of my vengeance?" she said with a gesture of despair. "What other opportunity shall I ever have? Long ago would I have entered Russia to slay him, but that my face is known to all the police agents there. The moment I set foot over the frontier I should be seized and sent again to Orenburg."
"I sympathize with you, and probably if I were Katina I should be tempted to do even as she would. But I am Zabern, you see, and the princess's government is my first care. Were Orloff in neutral territory you might shoot him without hindrance from me—and glad would I be to hear of his death—but on Czernovese ground—no! We should have to respect the devil himself if he should come in the character of ambassador."
The distant fanfare of trumpets now rose and fell on the air, signal that the envoy had arrived at the entrance of the palace.
The sound seemed to madden Katina.
"Is he come here in pomp, to be graciously received by the princess, to be feasted by her ministers, while I, his victim, scarred with the knout for refusing to become his plaything, am to remain still and do nothing to avenge myself? Your state policy to the winds," she cried passionately. "Stand aside. You shall not stay my hand."
She made as if she would have escaped from the apartment, but Zabern, on the watch for this movement, intercepted her and placed his back against the door.
"Nay, Katina, here you must remain till Orloff shall have quitted Czernova."
She recognized the futility of resistance, and turning away with her face very white, and speaking very slowly, she said,—
"Then if you prevent me from killing Orloff I will kill myself." Her words startled Zabern from his cynical composure. For a moment he hesitated whether to leave her, for Katina looked as if she fully intended to carry out her threat.
"Be it so," he said, coldly. "The guilt will not be mine. Better that maid perish by her own hand than that the liberties of a whole people be destroyed."
With that saying the marshal withdrew and having locked the door upon Katina, he darkly wended his way to the audience chamber.
With a view of rendering due honor to the imperial envoy it had been decided by Barbara that the reception should be attended with considerable pomp.
The Throne Hall was accordingly chosen as the place of interview—a magnificent apartment, its vaulted roof fretted with gold. The frescoes and pictures were adapted to appeal to the patriotism of those present, portraying, as they did, some of the noblest events in Polish history; among them the envoy might have seen more than one Russian defeat by Polish arms.
Ranged round the saloon, with back to the wall, were the finest and loftiest of the princess's uhlans. Clad in gleaming breastplates, and with burnished lances erect, they seemed in their rigidity and silence more like statues than men.
Barbara occupied the throne, a slender gold diadem resting on her dark hair, a purple robe of state looped gracefully over her dainty white attire.
On each side of the throne were her ministers, and the chief of her nobility. Patriots to a man, animated by a spirit of defiance to Russia, ardent for the restoration of Poland, they formed a chivalric band ready to die in defence of their fair princess.
The scene was striking and poetical; and more than once Paul, who was present, received a secret glance from Barbara, as if she would fain invite him to contrast her present state with that of the forlorn maiden wandering in the Dalmatian forest; and truly, it was a marvellous and brilliant contrast.
The emissary of the Czar was a man of giant stature clad in a gorgeous uniform. His countenance gave indications of a harsh and arrogant nature, nor did his countenance belie him; as a matter of fact he had been purposely selected by the Russian ministry in order that his objectionable manners, combined with the catechetical character of his mission might provoke recriminatory language from the young and proud princess, language that might afford Russia pretext for a quarrel with Czernova. Therefore Barbara, warned of this beforehand by Zabern, had determined that the envoy's speech, however provocative, should not tempt her to play the enemy's game.
To Paul and Zabern he was an object of secret loathing, both as the knouter of Katina, and also as an accessory to, if not the actual author of, the plot which had resulted in the destruction of the Czernovese Charter. Hard necessity precluded them from denouncing the hypocrisy of the man who came to demand the production of what he had himself destroyed.
"His grandfather did a noble deed," remarked Zabern in a whisper to Paul.
"What did his grandfather do?"
"He strangled a Czar," replied Zabern, grimly. "What?" he continued, noting Paul's look of surprise, "did you not know that we have here the grandson of Gregory Orloff?"
Unjust as it may be to be influenced by the ill-deeds of a man's grandsire, Paul nevertheless found his aversion to Orloff increasing, that such a creature should be appointed ambassador to stand in the presence of the pure and sweet Barbara! Orloff had removed his leathern gauntlets, and Paul could not avoid glancing from time to time at his large and knotted hands as if they were the same mighty palms that had squeezed out the breath from the windpipe of the unhappy Peter the Third.
With an odd mixture of humility and pride, the envoy knelt before the throne, and having presented his credentials to the princess, he rose again to his full height, and began to speak in a loud voice, and with a sweeping glance that took in the whole assembly.
"Nicholas Paulovitch, Autocrat of all the Russias"—Here the envoy proceeded to enumerate a variety of titles, among which there figured "King of Poland,"—a title which made the more ardent patriots whisper, "For how long?"—"Nicholas Paulovitch, as Head of the Holy Greek Church throughout the world, is interested in learning whether the Princess of Czernova has seceded from that Church."
Among Barbara's audience there was only one person who knew that secession was not a term to apply to her conduct. It was hard to be accused of apostasy, but political necessity compelled her to submit to the imputation.
"Though denying the right of the Czar to catechize the ruler of Czernova on such a matter I will, nevertheless, give answer," responded Barbara quietly. "I am not a member of the Greek, but of the Catholic Church."
"His Imperial Majesty would direct your Highness's attention to the Czernovese coronation-oath, the formula prescribed by the Charter."
"How is that oath phrased?" asked Barbara.
"Its precise wording is: 'I swear to maintain the Greek Faith.'"
"And it is my intention to maintain it. The Greek Church shall meet with no interference or oppression from the Catholic princess. Its liberty and privileges shall remain inviolate."
Orloff seemed quite dumfounded at this way of explaining the oath. Recovering from his surprise, he said,—
"That is not the interpretation put upon those words by the Czar. In his view 'maintaining' is synonymous with 'believing.'"
"Not so, count," replied Barbara, firmly. "On this point we have consulted not the forensic authorities of Czernova, who might be suspected of favoring our interest, but the leading jurists and statesmen of Europe, and they are unanimous in the opinion that the coronation-oath does not bind the ruler of Czernova to a personal belief in the faith of the Greek Church, but merely imposes the obligation of maintaining it as an establishment in statu quo."
That the Czernovese ministry had been seeking the views of Europe in the matter of the coronation-oath came upon Orloff as a complete surprise. If the princess had spoken truly, the consensus of opinion would seem to show that the argument by which Russia had been hoping to exclude her from the throne was lacking in validity. An appeal by Czernova to the arbitrament of the Powers on this question would enable the principality to sail triumphantly in the teeth of Russian ambition.
"I will report your answer to the Czar," replied Orloff, and with mortification plainly visible on his face, he proceeded to his next point.
"The Czar regrets the necessity which compels him to prefer against the state of Czernova a charge of the violation of his own jurisdiction in the matter of his kinsman, the Duke of Bora, who while on Russian ground was summarily arrested by order of the princess."
"Have you proof of this alleged violation of territory?"
"How?" exclaimed Orloff in feigned amazement. "'Proof'? 'Alleged violation'? The sacred word of his Majesty doubted?"
"I can of my own knowledge testify that his grace was on Czernovese ground at the time of his arrest."
"We have our witnesses, Baron Ostrova, the duke's secretary, and a Cossack sentinel."
A murmur of indignation ran through the assembly at the envoy's insolent language.
"And you have the word of a princess," replied Barbara, with dignity, "word purer far than that of twenty Ostrovas or twenty Cossacks. But we have a witness whom even the envoy of the Czar must respect. My lord of Bora, stand forth."
And to the surprise of those, unaware till then of his presence, the Duke of Bora, who had been keeping in the background, came forward and stood before the throne.
However great his sympathy with the envoy's aims, however much embittered with the princess by reason of his imprisonment, he durst not in her presence, and in the presence of other witnesses of his arrest, state anything else but the truth.
With a forced smile he bowed to Orloff, his fellow-conspirator.
"As the princess avers," he said, "there has been some error on the part of his Majesty's informants. My arrest took place on the Czernovese side of the frontier."
The envoy grew more disconcerted at this, his second failure to entangle the princess in his political net.
"A twofold offence has been committed in his Majesty's dominions," he continued; "first, in the matter of the duel itself, duelling being contrary to the law of Russia; and, secondly, in the matter of corrupting by bribes a soldier of the Czar, a Cossack sentinel."
"That honest Cossack," said Barbara, sweetly, "whose testimony you would have used against me?"
A smile rippled round the assembly.
Orloff flushed angrily.
"And therefore," he continued, ignoring Barbara's pointed remark, "on the ground that they have broken the law of Russia the Czar requires the extradition of the two offenders, his grace the Duke of Bora, and the Englishman, Captain Paul Woodville."
"The latter at all costs, I presume," said Barbara, caustically.
A second smile went round the assembly; their eyes with one accord turned towards the soldier who had foiled the Russian arms at Tajapore.
"Captain Woodville," continued Barbara, and none but Paul knew what pleasure it gave her thus to act as his champion, "Captain Woodville, though resident in Czernova, has not yet resigned the rights of a British subject, and therefore it will be more prudent on our part to wait till the English ambassador at St. Petersburg shall have notified to us his will in this matter. Till such time the question of the duke's extradition must likewise remain in abeyance."
Barbara's finesse in throwing her difficulty upon the broad shoulders of the British representative drew a sour smile from Orloff, who knew full well that that potentate would never sanction the extradition of an English officer on the grounds alleged.
Orloff was not slow to perceive the triumph of the assembly. It was clear to him that so far in the course of his embassy matters between Russia and Czernova would have to remain in statu quo, inasmuch as the princess's policy afforded no ground for quarrel. But Orloff had other arrows in his quiver, and he prepared to discharge them.
"The Czar would fain learn the meaning of the device on the new Czernovese coinage."
"What signification does his Majesty himself attach to it?"
"In his view the assumption of the arms of Poland implies a claim to the throne of Poland,—a claim at variance with his own lawful sovereignty over that realm."
"Count, tell us whose arms are those?"
And Barbara here directed Orloff's attention to a part of the roof where hung a faded white banner, its centre embroidered with the figure of a double-headed eagle in black thread, a banner captured in old time from Russia, and therefore no agreeable sight to the eyes of a Muscovite general.
"They are the arms of Russia," replied Orloff sullenly, and wondering why he should be asked the question.
"Yet that double-headed black eagle was the arms of the Greek emperors of Constantinople," said Barbara. "If my armorial device implies an aspiration for the throne of Poland, then must the Czar be credited with an aspiration for the throne of the Sultan. Are the chancelleries of Europe to understand that such is his aim?"
Again the assembly smiled. Nicholas's intention of seizing upon "the sick man's inheritance" was strongly suspected at this time, but it would not have been politic on the part of Orloff to affirm it. A scowl stole over his face at this, his fourth defeat.
"As regards the arms of Poland," said Barbara, "I, as a descendant of Polish kings, have every right to use such arms upon my coinage."
"But has Czernova the right to issue a coinage of its own apart from the Russian currency? Is it permitted by the Charter of Catherine?"
"Marshal, cause a copy of the Charter to be brought."
"Oh! no, your Highness," said Orloff quickly, and interchanging a significant smile with the Duke of Bora, a smile noticed and understood by Zabern, "not a copy. We would see the original document itself."
Barbara stared hard at the speaker, having no suspicion of his sinister purpose in preferring this request.
"You would see the original document?" she repeated. "This is truly a singular demand. As the Charter was signed in duplicate, why not consult your own original, which, if history err not, was deposited in the archives of the Kremlin?"
"We would, if it were there; but seek as we may, we have never been able to find the alleged document!"
"Alleged document?" repeated Barbara, knitting her brows. "Did you say alleged?"
"Yes," retorted Orloff, with an insolent sneer that brought all the blood to Barbara's face, and caused the more fiery portion of the assembly to half-draw their blades. "Yes; for the truth is," he continued, glancing defiantly around, "Czernova never had any such Charter as is commonly alleged. How the first so-called Prince of Czernova contrived to impose upon Russia the fiction of a Charter granted by Catherine is indeed inexplicable; nevertheless the council of the empire has received ample proof that such document has never existed."
Barbara's lifted hand quelled the wrathful murmurs.
"And without such Charter," she said, "it necessarily follows that—will you finish the sentence for me, Count?"
"It follows that Czernova is as much a part of the Czar's dominions as the rest of Russian Poland."
"Proceed a step farther, Count. Say that in reigning over Czernova I have become liable to a charge of treason in having usurped the authority of the Czar."
"His Majesty will permit you to plead ignorance."
"We commend his sweet graciousness. But I can claim the word of the Czar himself that I am the lawful ruler of Czernova, inasmuch as you, his chosen representative, have greeted me with the title of 'Princess' and 'Highness.' If you now deny what you have previously affirmed; if you now declare it to be treason to acknowledge me as princess—then you have caused the Czar to be guilty of treason against the Czar! Truly, Sir Envoy, you conduct your embassy in strange and perplexing fashion, and we would pray you to be more clear of speech. For as touching your allegation that the Charter never had existence, by your own mouth are you contradicted, seeing that you yourself have cited from that Charter the words of the Czernovese coronation oath. Are we now to understand that in your desire to exclude me from the throne, you did not scruple to quote from a mythical document?"
Surely no ambassador can ever have blundered more than Orloff! He was evidently better qualified to bully a regiment or to preside at a knouting than to conduct diplomatic negotiations. Thick-skinned as he was, he felt the sting of Barbara's remarks, and his great face reddened. He had thought to gain an easy victory over a young girl, whereas it was now clear that in this contest of the tongue, the princess was decidedly his superior. Zabern smiled grimly, much regretting that Katina was not present to be a witness of her enemy's humiliation.
"In using the terms 'Princess' and 'Charter,'" said Orloff, "be it understood that my language was provisional."
"And so," said Barbara, with sovereign disdain curving her lips, "it would seem that for fifty years Czernova has been enjoying its freedom by virtue of false statements. Marvellous that during all this time Russia has never once raised her voice in protest! Truly it says but little for the wisdom of her statesmen in thus permitting themselves to be duped for a period of half a century! But we would draw the Czar's attention to a decree of the Congress of Vienna, and worded thus: 'The principality of Czernova shall be governed according to the Charter granted by Catherine the Second; and Russia, Austria, and Prussia are herewith empowered to uphold the provisions of the same.' That Congress must have had reason for believing in the existence of the Charter, else how could they have spoken thus? In the face of that decree is the Czar so ill-counselled as to deny the existence of the historic Czernovese Charter?"
"That is his attitude, and nothing but its production in my presence will set his doubts at rest."
"Marshal Zabern is the Warden of the Charter. He can quickly prove that there is such a document preserved in the Eagle Tower."
"Pardon me, your Highness, not in the Eagle Tower," observed Zabern. "When your Highness appointed me Warden of the Charter, I had the document removed to—to—well, for obvious reasons I prefer to keep its place of deposit a secret. The document you refer to in the iron coffer of the Eagle Tower is a copy merely."
The natural unaffected way in which Zabern spoke almost imposed upon Paul himself. It certainly imposed upon Orloff. Never did human countenance change so quickly as did that of the envoy at this moment,—the moment of his anticipated triumph.
The Charter in the Eagle Tower a transcript merely, and not the great original! Then his plot had resulted only in the destruction of a worthless document. Czernova stood as firm as ever!
Orloff's mortification found a reflection in the face of Bora. Paul marked them both, and never did falsehood give him such pleasure as the falsehood told by Zabern.
"After such testimony on the part of the marshal," observed Barbara, "you will no longer doubt."
"Then I am to understand," said Orloff, "that you refuse to permit the Czar's envoy to inspect the Charter?"
"The Czar exceeds his authority in making such demand," replied Barbara with dignity. "By the decree of the Congress of Vienna, Austria and Prussia are equally concerned in this matter of the Charter. They have not yet called its existence in question. To a joint embassy from the three Powers doubt not that we shall pay due regard."
Barbara's attitude in thus associating the courts of Vienna and Berlin with that of St. Petersburg upon the point at issue was diplomatically correct, as Orloff very well knew. Unless the two other states should act in concert with Russia, the latter had no power to compel Czernova to produce its Charter. And it was quite within the range of probability that Austria and Prussia, from motives of political jealousy, would decline to co-operate in an affair from which Russia alone was to gain.
Therefore, reflecting upon all this, Orloff began to perceive that his plot for the destruction of the Charter, even granting that it had been successfully carried out, was by no means so decisive a blow as he had at first been led to suppose. Czernova might be without its title to autonomy, but this difficulty remained—how were the Czar's ministry to establish the fact?
A gleam of cunning suddenly appeared on the face of the envoy. He had solved the problem.
"Is it not a part of the coronation-ritual," he asked, "that the original Charter of Catherine shall be placed upon the altar, and that the ruler of Czernova with hand laid upon it shall swear to maintain its provisions?"
"That is so," responded the princess; "and we especially invite you, Count, to a seat in the chancel in order that you may witness the ceremony, and set your doubts at rest."
"I shall certainly avail myself of the privilege offered me," said Orloff with a peculiar smile, incomprehensible to Barbara, but perfectly understood by at least two persons present.
Fear fell upon Paul, if not upon Zabern. Though it might be easy now to equivocate, and to devise plausible excuses for withholding the Charter from the envoy's view, yet on the great day of the coronation, the day that should be the brightest in Barbara's life, the fatal truth would have to be revealed. How was it possible to replace the vital document that had been destroyed by fire!
"I have discharged my embassy," said Orloff, bowing.
"Count Radzivil," observed Barbara, turning to the premier, "on you devolves the honor of entertaining our guest, Count Feodor Orloff, so long as he shall remain in Czernova."
But the envoy, his asperity not at all softened by the princess's courtesy, bluntly averred his intention of setting out for St. Petersburg within an hour from that time.
"Loyalty to the Czar forbids me to dally in his service."
"The Czar is honored in possessing an envoy so discreet. My lords, we will retire."
Zabern was the first to draw his sabre, and to hold it aloft over the head of Barbara; the rest of her adherents standing in a double line imitated his action, Paul among the number; and thus the fair sovereign, with a smile and a blush, and yet maintaining an air of dignity withal, passed out beneath an arcade of brilliant sword-blades, and amid a saluting cry from her soldiery of "Long live the Princess of Czernova!"
She had gained a diplomatic victory over Russia, but none knew better than Barbara herself that her triumph was merely temporary, and that Russia would return to the charge at the first opportunity.
The assembly broke up. Orloff went back to the Hôtel de Varsovie, and summoning those of his suite who had not attended him to the Vistula Palace, he set off immediately for Russia. The Duke of Bora, with bitterness rankling at his heart, followed the princess to her apartments, determined to hear from her own lips whether it was her intention to break off the marriage to which she had been so long pledged. The ministers sought the palace gardens, where they discussed the envoy's defeat.
"The Czar will not submit to such rebuff," said Radzivil, gloomily. "Yet how could the princess speak and act otherwise if she must maintain her dignity?"
"Aha!" grinned Zabern to Paul, as they remained behind in the Throne Hall. "Did you mark the two traitors—the fall in their faces? They are somewhat doubtful now as to the success of their plot. Orloff is returning to Russia more than half-convinced that the Charter is still intact."
"He has a lingering suspicion, however," remarked Paul. "You have staved off the difficulty—but only for a time. What will happen on the coronation-day when Orloff beholds a charterless altar?"
"Bah! I'll remedy that," replied Zabern, adding as he turned away, "shall I see you at the bal masque this evening?"
"Without doubt," answered Paul; for had not Barbara promised to dance with none but himself, a course she could take without exciting suspicion as to the relationship existing between herself and her secretary, inasmuch as her mask and fancy costume would disguise her identity. "Without doubt," he continued, "for I am young, which is to say, frivolous. But you, marshal, will you be there? I thought you had a soul above music and dancing?"
"And such have I. But the masquerade held this evening by command of the princess is something more than a mere fête; it is a cloak to cover a certain political enterprise—what, you shall learn when the time comes. Captain Woodville," added Zabern, mysteriously, "at the bal masque of to-night history will be made. Till then, farewell."
With this Zabern turned away, and ascended to the lofty chamber in which he had left Katina.
He opened the door, not without a certain fear that she might have fulfilled her threat of suicide, but to his relief he saw her sitting pensively beside the barred casement. There was a pistol by her side, a weapon which the marshal intuitively felt was a loaded one.
He had expected to be received with reproachful invective, instead of which she met him with a glad light in her eyes. She seemed totally transformed from the vengeful maiden whom he had left an hour previously. Zabern noted the change and wondered.
"Your imprisonment is over, Katina," he said, gently. "Orloff has departed."
"I know it," she replied, "for I have seen him."
"You have seen him," muttered the marshal, glancing suspiciously at the pistol, and doubtful now as to whether it was loaded.
"Yes. In departing Orloff and his suite took their way through the palace gardens and passed within view of this very window. I could have over-reached you, marshal," she continued with a smile, "for, as my pistol is with me," she added, tapping the weapon, "I could easily have brought him down."
"But the thought of Czernova stayed your hand?"
"No!" she answered, "no," murmuring the words faintly, as if speaking more to herself than to him, while at the same time the soft color mantled her cheek, "it was the thought rather of him whom I love that kept me from the deed."
"Him whom you love?" repeated Zabern, with a touch of surprise in his voice. "Love? Humph! I am glad to hear that word from you, Katina."
"Why so?" she asked, casting a glance at him, and averting her eyes again immediately, when she observed how steadfastly he was regarding her.
"It shows that you are human if you can be touched by that sentiment," laughed Zabern. "I have been accustomed to think that you were even as myself."
"In what way?"
"Insensible to love. You know that my father led me in childhood to the sacramental altar, and there made me swear to do my best to destroy a great empire. Complete devotion to that patriotic vow—"
"Has extinguished in you every other emotion," murmured Katina.
"True. Delenda est Muscovia is written on my heart in letters of fire. Patriotism is the only passion that has ever possessed me. But with youthful maiden it should be different. Because Poland is not free must you, too, steel your heart against natural affection? And so my pretty Katina has a sweetheart? And his name?"
Why Katina should look frightened, and why her face should turn so white, completely mystified Zabern. As she remained silent he repeated his last question.
"His name? No! I cannot tell it; at least—not—not to you; though others know it. Nay," she added, wildly, "even Russakoff, the spy, can taunt me with it in the public street."
"Others know it, even Russakoff?" repeated Zabern. "And yet you would keep the name from me? Well, be it so," he added reproachfully. "I should have thought, Katina, that you would have let your old friend, the marshal, be the first to congratulate you."
Strange that Zabern, so quick to divine the plans of his enemies, should be so dull at reading a woman's heart! Yet so it was. He really had not the least idea as to the cause of Katina's agitation. He thought it behoved him to find out. He had nursed her as a child on his knee, and now with the tender familiarity of an old friend he placed his hand beneath her chin, and though she attempted a faint resistance, he succeeded in raising her drooping face to his own. The strange wistful look in her dark eyes that met his for a moment only, and then fell again, was a complete revelation to the marshal. It told her secret as clearly as if she had spoken it.
"Katina!" he murmured, huskily, quitting his hold of her, and starting back.
Katina herself sank on a seat silently and with averted face, the very picture of confusion.
"What! am I the man?"
If silence gives assent, then Katina had assented.
There was a brief interval of silence. Then the affair seemed to present itself in a humorous light to the marshal, for he began to laugh.
"You love me! Me! the greatest knave in Czernova! a one-handed grim old fellow like myself, twice your age, with an ugly face, made—thanks to the Russians!—still more ugly by sabre-cuts. You have a strange taste, Katina, when there is many a young and handsome Pole willing to make you his bride."
"But none like Zabern," she murmured, yet hardly daring to say the words.
Though the marshal looked upon Katina as the fairest maiden in Czernova after the princess, yet the thought of wooing her had never entered his head; but now, while he contemplated her as she trembled like a leaf, looking the more charming in her confusion, the grim old warrior felt within himself a power unfelt till that moment.
"Katina," he said, and never before had she heard his voice sound so gentle,—"Katina, you may kiss me—if you like."
"It is your place to come and kiss me."
Zabern was making a forward movement, but ere he could take the second step Katina was within his arms, and clinging as if she intended never to release her hold. And it was evident that the marshal found his new experiences far more attractive than the business required of him as a minister; for when a minute afterwards a secretary tapped at the door with the announcement that he was bringing state despatches, Zabern, in a loud voice, bade him begone and carry the despatches to the—well, a certain dark gentleman popularly supposed by the Muscovites of Czernova to be a near relation of Zabern himself.
"And have you never before loved any woman?" asked Katina, as she sat on the marshal's knee, and seeming to be quite at home there, too!
"Never; but now I shall love all women for your sake."
"I had rather you did not," said Katina, opening wide her eyes; and then as she nestled closer within his embrace she murmured, "this is more pleasant than to hang for the slaying of Orloff."
"Much more," remarked Zabern. "To shoot him would have been a very inadequate retribution for what he made you suffer. One swift pang, and all would have been over. Now I will point out a better way of avenging yourself—a way that shall cause Orloff to eat out his heart in vexation of spirit."
"But, Ladislas," answered Katina, for she had begun to call the marshal by his Christian name: "Ladislas," she repeated, with a pressure of his arms, "love has extinguished the desire for vengeance."
"Humph! well, vengeance or no vengeance, there is a certain work to be done, and a work, too, that must be kept so secret that I dare not trust any one with the knowledge of it, save you, my second self."
"If it be a task that can be performed by a woman, let me be the one to do it."
"Good! Is not this little hand," said Zabern, raising it to his lips as he spoke, "that can use pistol so well equally skilled in handling the pen?"
"And how can my penmanship serve you?" asked Katina, with wonder in her eyes. "Oh, I see," she continued, with a mock pout, "you wish me to become your secretary, and when I bring despatches to the door, you will tell me to go to Satan, as you did to that poor fellow just now."
"This is how your pen can aid me," said Zabern. "Listen, while I reveal to you a state secret unknown even to the princess and her cabinet."
And here the marshal proceeded to whisper his communication, adding at its close, "Now you understand the work I require of you?"
"O Ladislas, Ladislas," she said, gravely shaking her head at him, "I believe you want to hang me, after all."
"I have hanged men for similar work—true. But this deed is a pardonable one, seeing that it is for the good of the state. 'The end justifies the means'—that's Cardinal Ravenna's maxim; and if a holy churchman adopts that policy, why should not the profane Zabern likewise? The plan I have suggested is the only way of defeating the knavery of Orloff, and of saving Czernova from the power of the Czar. Your hand is more expert and delicate than mine, else would I not set it to this task. I dare not entrust its execution to any other, for it would be hazardous to admit a fourth person to the secret. The knowledge of it must be confined to Katina, Captain Woodville, and Zabern. You will do this?"
"I will do anything you ask of me," replied Katina, simply.
On the evening of the day that had witnessed the envoy's defeat a masked ball was held, and the halls and gardens of the Vistula Palace were alive with gay revellers.
The centre of attraction was the spacious ball-room, where, beneath golden chandeliers that shed a radiance brighter than that of the sun, moved a crowd of Czernova's noblest and fairest.
The picturesque character of the dresses, the glow of color, the perfume of flowers, the gayety of the music, and the rippling laughter of fair masqueraders, formed a scene bewildering and intoxicating to the senses.
Amid this throng moved Paul Woodville in eager quest of the masked Barbara, who had refrained from telling him what costume she would assume. If he were a true lover he ought to be able to penetrate her disguise, she had playfully observed, and if he failed to discover her, why then the want of discernment on his part should bring its own punishment.
As he moved here and there witching glances were cast at him by masked ladies, for as regards figure and dress, few were more qualified than Paul to serve as a cavalier.
He had adopted the old Polish costume. With a four-cornered cap adorned by a waving heron plume, silken "contuschi" that fell in graceful folds around well-shaped limbs clad in tight silk hose, short boots decorated with gold lace, and a curved, diamond-hilted sabre swinging lightly by his side, Paul walked among the men present, the noblest figure of them all; and many whispering inquiries were interchanged as to his identity.
At length Paul caught sight of a graceful figure, robed in the silver-gray habit of a nun, standing solitary by the entrance of a corridor leading from the ball-room.
He watched and saw her with a pretty shake of her head repel in silence the addresses of three cavaliers in succession.
As Paul drew near, the lady suddenly turned her head and flashed a glance at him through the eyelet-holes of her black silk vizard. That glance was sufficient, and in another moment he was by her side.
"Fair lady," he whispered, "why this sad costume?"
"Is it not the garb of innocence?" returned the lady in a low and obviously disguised voice.
"True, but it is also the negation of love."
"And why should I not frown upon love?"
"Because you would be gainsaying the vows you made to me in the old Greek temple."
"Ah, Paul! you have discovered me," she whispered, her lips smiling beneath the lace of her mask. "Now I, in turn, will ask, 'Why this old Polish costume?'"
"I adopted what I thought would most please you."
"And it does please me," she replied with a tender light in her eyes. "And it is suitable to the character of the revelation you shall hear to-night. Come, we will not dance just yet. Take me to the gardens, to the Long Terrace."
Conscious of something odd in her manner, Paul, drawing her arm within his own, conducted Barbara from the brilliant ball-room to the quieter scene without, and on reaching a retired corner of the marble terrace, he seated her beside himself.
It was a lovely midsummer night. The air was pure and temperate, and alive with the plash and sparkle of numerous fountains. The silver orb of the moon, set in a dark-blue sky, and the colored lamps gleaming everywhere among the foliage combined to produce a poetical glamor that might have gladdened the eyes even of Titania herself, the Queen of Fairyland.
"Who could have thought," said Paul, after complimenting Barbara upon the admirable manner in which she had out-manœuvred the Russian envoy, "who could have thought when we first met in that Dalmatian forest that a great empire would one day demand my extradition, and that you would bravely refuse to grant it!"
"And I will not surrender you, Paul. No, not if it should cost me my throne."
How sweet it was to hear such words from this fair princess! She who was a match for the Czar's envoy to set such store by him! This maiden pressing tenderly to his side scarcely seemed to be the same person who that morning had filled a throne with such dignity. Nor was she. Love had entirely transfigured her.
"Paul," she said quietly, "I have told the duke that I cannot marry him."
"How did he take the tidings?"
"He said little, but his face expressed much—"
"Much—?"
"Hatred, then, if you will have the word. Excluded from the cabinet, and from the command of the army, he is not likely to sit down quietly under such dishonoring. And," she added with a sigh, "he is a political force to be reckoned with."
"Sweet princess, give me leave to resume the duel with him, and you shall soon be rid of one whom you seem to fear."
"No, Paul, no," she said, laying her hand affectionately upon his; "promise me that you will not fight with him again."
"Does the princess command?"
"No; your Barbara entreats," she said with a soft pressure of her arm. Who could resist such an appeal as this?
"I do not doubt your ability to overcome the duke, for Zabern has told me of your feat in the salle d'armes; but you forget that duelling is illegal in Czernova. Would you have me send you to the Citadel? Moreover, if you should slay the duke it would become the aim of every Muscovite fanatic to slay you. As it is, I fear you will carry your life in your hands, when men come to learn that you are the cause of the duke's rejection. Czernova is but semi-civilized, and assassination is the favorite political weapon here. I would, Paul, that you would do even as Zabern."
"And what is Zabern's habit?"
"He wears chain-mail beneath his clothing."
"An uncomfortable arrangement, I should say. For my own part I will rely on my right arm and on my good sword. Fear not for me. But, dearest Barbara, will you not unmask, and let me see your face, if only for a moment?"
She shook her head tantalizingly.
"I would if I dared, but who knows what eyes may be watching me at this moment? There are Russian spies at this masquerade, so Zabern assures me. I must not be recognized in this guise. Ah! who comes here?" Paul felt her arm trembling upon his, as there moved slowly along the moonlit terrace a tall and stately figure robed in a monastic habit. His cassock was identical in its shade of gray with the nun's gown worn by Barbara, and like hers, it was marked on each shoulder with a red cross.
Having reached the place where Barbara sat, the monk paused, surveyed her attentively for a moment, and then spoke,—
"May a brother claim a few words from a sister of the same order?"
"How know you that I am of the same order?"
"The 'Transfigured' cannot be hidden from each other."
"Paul," she whispered, "I must speak with this man alone for a short time. Remain here."
The princess arose, and in company with the newcomer paced slowly to and fro along the terrace, repeatedly passing Paul.
This proceeding on the part of Barbara was somewhat strange, but not altogether incomprehensible. Paul had learned that the word "Transfigured" was used by the patriots of Czernova in the sense of one who, from a state of despair as regards Poland, had passed to a state of hope. Its English equivalent was "conspirator." The term naturally associated itself with the Convent of the Transfiguration, and hence Paul concluded that this masked individual was a monk sent from that very mysterious monastery with some important message.
The conversation, of which he did not overhear one word, occupied about fifteen minutes, and ended by the monk passing some papers to the princess, who immediately concealed them upon her person, an action performed so quickly that Paul almost doubted whether it had really taken place.
This transference of documents accomplished, the monk glided quietly away, and the princess returned to the side of Paul.
Ere he had time to question Barbara on the nature of the interview, Paul saw with surprise a second masked friar making his way along the terrace. He was robed so precisely like the other that Paul at first thought it was the same individual; but a nearer view showed that he was of shorter and more massive build. There could be no doubt that he, too, was bent on having an interview with the princess.
Was this sort of thing to last all night?
Barbara guessed his thoughts, and her teeth gleamed in a pretty smile beneath the silken fringe of her vizard.
"Patience, Paul," she whispered. "This is the second and last. There in the distance comes Marshal Zabern, and as I must have no secrets from you he shall act as my interpreter."
On the approach of the monk the same interchange of words took place, evidently a pre-arranged signal, and, as before, Barbara arose and joined in conversation with the new-comer.
A moment afterwards another figure came upon the scene whom, in spite of the mask and black domino, Paul recognized as Zabern.
The marshal sat down by Paul's side and fixed his eyes upon the princess, who, a little distance away, was stooping over the balustrade of the terrace, apparently engaged in the act of writing.
"What think you that the princess is now doing?" asked Zabern.
"One might fancy her to be setting down the name of a cavalier upon her dance-programme, but I suppose such is not the case?"
"Captain Woodville," returned the marshal impressively, "you are witnessing an event destined to change the map of Europe in the near future. The princess is signing a secret treaty with Louis Kossuth, the uncrowned King of Hungary."
Paul's surprise and wonderment can be better imagined than described.
"The princess has signified to me her wish that you should be admitted to the circle of 'The Transfigured;' and convinced as I am of your loyalty to her, I offer no opposition, knowing that if you should not altogether approve of our policy, you will at least keep our secret. It is our custom to exact an oath from initiates—"
"I will vow upon the Four Evangelists—"
"Upon your sword if you must swear at all, as our Polish chevaliers of old when at church they recited the 'Credo.' Our initiatory oath can be dispensed with in your case. Your promise is sufficient. The word of a soldier should be sacred. You pledge yourself to secrecy?"
And when Paul had assented, the marshal continued,—
"Know, then, that Princess Natalie is at the head of a secret enterprise,—'conspiracy' would be the Czar's word,—an enterprise for the liberation of Poland from the Russian yoke. The two monks are agents in this affair. The first is a Pole bringing documents from the headquarters of the patriots at Warsaw. The second is a Hungarian from Buda charged with the secret treaty from Kossuth. The masquerade of to-night was held with a special view to their meeting the princess, no other way being so well suited to divert suspicion; for with spies all around us it behoves us to act with caution. The traitor Bora, at this moment in the ball-room, little knows what is happening only a stone's-throw off."
"But what interest hath Hungary in this affair?"
"Hungary is herself preparing to revolt from the despotic rule of the House of Hapsburg. Next spring she will rise under Louis Kossuth, whose triumph is certain. Hungary will again take her place among the free nations of Europe. We in Czernova sympathize with the Magyars, but as matters are at present we dare not openly aid them with our army. Austria would cry to the Czar, and the Czar, availing himself of the opportunity, would lose no time in annexing Czernova. We are thus necessitated to give our aid in secret. Money is the sinews of war; we therefore lend the Hungarians money on the understanding that they in turn shall aid us when the day of Poland comes."
"And how much are you advancing?"
"One hundred and eighty million roubles; not paper money, mark you, but sterling gold in coinage and plate."
The vastness of the sum—thirty millions in English money—filled Paul with amazement.
"How has Czernova contrived to raise such a large amount?"
"But small part of it comes from Czernova. It represents the free-will offerings of Polish patriots throughout the world for a long course of years. Noble ladies have given their jewellery, the peasant his kopek, ay, often his last kopek, to the good cause."
"And where is this treasure stored?"
"In the Convent of the Transfiguration. Yes," continued Zabern, "we aid Hungary, and Hungary will aid us when the great day of vengeance shall come."
"And when will that be?"
"'Russia's danger is Poland's opportunity,'—that is the Czernovese motto. We are waiting till Russia shall be engaged in war with England."
"Is such war likely to occur?"
"It is a certain event of the near future. In the School of Naval Engineers at Sebastopol," said Zabern, beginning a statement, whose relevancy Paul failed at first to perceive, "is a complete representation of all the forts that line the Bosphorus with their towers and bastions, together with the most minute details respecting the creeks and currents of that famous strait; so that the Russian War Minister sitting at Sebastopol with these models before him could direct the whole plan of an attack upon Constantinople."
"Well?"
"Imperative orders have just been issued from St. Petersburg commanding the naval captains to study these models; lectures upon them are given daily to the naval cadets. Bearing in mind Alexander's saying to Napoleon, 'Il faut avoir les clefs de notre maison dans la poche,' what inference do you draw?"
"That Russia is preparing to seize the Sultan's dominions?"
"Precisely. Will England permit this?"
"Not while 'Old Pam' is living."
"'Old Pam'?" said Zabern, puzzled till Paul explained. "Ah! your grand Lord Palmerston, the friend of oppressed nationalities! Well, then, we shall soon have an Anglo-Russian war. Your gallant armies and fleets will be seen ere long off the shores of the Baltic and Euxine. My faith in the bravery of your countrymen enables me to prophesy that they will be victorious. And then will come the day of our triumph!"