The patriotic Zabern, whose days from boyhood had been spent in struggling for the freedom of his fatherland, was now fully convinced that success was at hand.
"Yes," he continued, his eye kindling with enthusiasm; "yes, in the hour of Russia's humiliation, when her treasury is exhausted and her armies demoralized by defeat, there will be an upheaval of Poland; no feeble flash-in-the-pan this time, but a grand national uprising, north, south, east, and west. Little Czernova will be to the fore with her army of twenty thousand under Zabern; the Magyars of Hungary will pour across the border with Kossuth at their head; there will be a combination such as will compel Russia to part with the kingdom she wickedly stole fifty years ago. When I was born Poland was free; I shall die seeing her free again. And the princess—"
"Yes, and the princess?" inquired Paul, as Zabern paused in his utterance.
"Will be a princess no longer. The patriots have agreed that Natalie Lilieska, as the sole surviving descendant of the ancient Jagellons, shall be the queen of resuscitated Poland. Queen? ay, and why not empress? Is she not worthy of an imperial crown?"
Paul's head fairly swam at these words. The sweet, fair, dark-haired maiden who loved him, and who clung to him with such touching fidelity, a future queen—empress! He knew that Barbara would never waver in her attachment to him; to what dazzling heights, then, was he destined to rise?
He glanced at the two gray moonlit figures in the distance—the monk and the nun—conspiring for the creation of a kingdom. How romantically impossible seemed this scheme looked at beforehand! and yet how many of the noblest events in history have been previously declared impossible by political prophets!
"As touching your secret treasure," remarked Paul, "is there not a bill before the Diet,—a bill to seize all monastic wealth and to convert it to state purposes?"
"At this very moment the Diet is putting its veto upon the measure. To-night was fixed for the second reading. Our Polish adherents are assembled in full force to reject it. After to-night we shall hear no more of Lipski's bill. It would be an ill day for us if it should pass. Ostensibly directed against Czernovese monasteries in general, it is really aimed at the Convent of the Transfiguration. The Czerno-Muscovites have a suspicion that the monks of that establishment do other things besides offering perpetual prayers for Poland, and the suspicion is well founded. If public commissioners enter that monastery they will discover not only our store of gold, but likewise the documents relating to our patriotic conspiracy; and more than these, plans and models of Russian fortresses, supplied by our adherents in the Czar's army, who are not a few. The convent contains arms for one hundred thousand men, gunpowder sufficient to blow up all Czernova, and in addition new military engines. Some of the inmates of that convent devote their time to chemistry and mechanics; and in the coming struggle betwixt Poland and Russia we shall have the first use of inventions destined to revolutionize the old-fashioned methods of warfare. In the light of these inventions the numbers of our enemy will count for little. Now you understand why the Convent of the Transfiguration must be kept from the eyes of prying intruders."
"I likewise grasp the meaning of that passage in Orloff's cipher despatch,—'The success of Lipski's bill is Russia's justification.'"
"I admit the truth of the statement. The secrets of that convent, if brought to the light of day, would prove that the resources of Czernova are being utilized for the emancipation of Poland. And have we not the right to attempt the recovery of the kingdom stolen from our forefathers? Nevertheless, in the opinion of European statesmen fettered by conventional precedents, our aim would amply justify the Czar in annexing the principality. Therefore Lipski's bill must not pass."
At this juncture Barbara, having finished her interview, returned to the side of Paul; Zabern, desirous of a word with the Hungarian envoy, went forward to intercept his departure.
"So Zabern has told you of our enterprise? What think you, Paul?"
"May the crown of Poland indeed be yours, Barbara. And yet—and yet—the higher you climb the greater the gulf between us."
"You shall rise with me, Paul," she said, placing her hand tenderly within his. "You, who gained fame in India, shall gain a greater fame in the coming war, and then there will be no obstacle to our union. 'Let the princess marry merit and not title,' men will say."
This gave a new aspect to their love-affair,—an aspect which appealed to Paul's dashing and adventurous spirit; like the knights of a bygone age he would fight both for the winning of fame and also for the hand of a lovely princess. If the patriotic conspiracy should end in failure, alas! for Barbara's hopes, but so much the better for his prospect of a final union with her. His good fortune, he trusted, would enable him to emerge safely from the political ruins of Czernova, and with Barbara he would retire to his ancestral hall in Kent, where they would spend the rest of their days in quiet happiness, and recall with melancholy pleasure the time when they had plotted and fought for the crown of Poland.
Zabern, having parted from the Hungarian messenger, sat down on the other side of the princess, and for a long time the trio talked of the conspiracy. Among other matters, Paul learned that Katina was cognizant of the conspiracy, and that all the cabinet likewise were participants, with the exception of the two permanent members—Cardinal Ravenna and Mosco the Greek Archpastor.
"I can understand your Highness's motive in keeping our enterprise concealed from a Muscovite prelate," remarked Zabern; "but with regard to Ravenna is not the case different? He would be extremely useful to us in drawing the Catholic clergy of Poland into the plot."
"Marshal," said Barbara firmly, "I know the cardinal, and I know that he is not to be trusted."
Their attention was diverted at this point by the approach of two masked figures, each habited, like Zabern, in a black domino.
"Radzivil and Dorislas returning from the Diet," observed the marshal. The premier and his colleague recognized the princess and Zabern by their costumes, but glanced inquiringly at Paul, uncertain as to his identity.
"Captain Woodville, my lords," replied Barbara, responsive to their thoughts.
Paul drew aside, permitting Radzivil to take a place beside Barbara, a courtesy which the premier gracefully acknowledged.
Dorislas with folded arms leaned in silence against the marble balustrade of the terrace. As far as can be judged of men who are masked and cloaked, both the premier and the finance minister were in a very gloomy mood. Paul intuitively felt that they were the bearers of bad tidings.
"Has your Highness signed the treaty with Kossuth?" began Radzivil.
"An hour ago. The Hungarian envoy has departed with it."
"I fear, princess, that the treaty will have to be rescinded. We are doomed to lose our treasure."
"Say not so, count. The Catholic Poles form the majority in the Diet; why should they desert both their princess and their religion?"
"This evening, as your Highness knows," explained the premier, "there took place the second reading of the Secular Appropriation Bill. During the course of the debate Lipski presented to the House certain statistics appraising the wealth contained in the various monasteries of Czernova. These statistics were, of course, purely imaginary—"
"For," intervened Dorislas, "if he knew the whole truth concerning the Convent of the Transfiguration he would have put the amount at four times his actual estimate."
"Just so," responded Radzivil, a melancholy smile appearing beneath his mask. "Well, he attempted to prove by means of these statistics that the monastic wealth would enable Czernova to be tax-free for the next three years. The House eagerly caught at the bait. All the Muscovite faction voted with Lipski as a matter of course; and many of our side, charmed with the idea of a three years' remission of taxation, likewise cast their suffrages in favor of the bill. The members of our party do not know the reason why the ministry are so anxious to throw the ægis of their protection over the convents, and, of course, we dare not take them into our confidence. The result is, and with extreme regret I announce it to your Highness, that the second reading of the Appropriation Bill has been carried by a majority of eleven."
"Ha!" muttered Zabern to himself. "Orloff's gold is doing its work."
"Was there a full house?" asked Barbara.
"Your Highness, every member of the Opposition was present; and on our side there were but three absentees,—the marshal, the cardinal, and the duke."
"The duke?" said Barbara. "I fear that his vote will be given against us now, which will raise the majority to twelve. The marshal's vote and the cardinal's would reduce it to ten. When does the third reading take place?"
"It has been fixed for this day week."
"Ten votes against us," murmured the princess. "The transference of six votes from the opposite side would place us in a majority of two. My lords, we must win over those six votes, if no more."
"I fail to see how it's to be done," commented Radzivil gloomily.
Silence fell upon the little group. Truly, with the Charter destroyed, and with Lipski's bill on the eve of triumphing, Barbara's throne was in desperate jeopardy.
"Cannot your Highness refuse to sign the bill?" asked Paul.
"By the terms of the Charter," replied Barbara, "the ruler of Czernova is compelled to sign every bill passed by the Diet. In the event of refusal the Diet has the right of calling upon Russia, Austria, and Prussia, to enforce the signature."
"And Lipski and his Muscovite crew would not be slow in appealing to them," remarked Dorislas. "And we know what the intervention of the three Powers would mean."
"If I should dissolve the Diet, and order a fresh election—?" began Barbara.
"We should have the same majority against us," replied Radzivil.
"Insert a clause in the bill," suggested Paul, "to the effect that the Convent of the Transfiguration shall be exempted from the operation of the bill."
"Useless," answered the premier, "since that convent is the one particularly aimed at."
"A clause giving her Highness sole power to appoint the Commissioners."
Dorislas grinned.
"I moved that amendment myself, but it was rejected."
"Play Cromwell's game: on the day of the voting station troopers at the doors of the Diet-house to exclude obnoxious members; or the night before carry some off and detain them till the voting is over."
"Unconstitutional," said Barbara. "To secure the rejection of the bill by such methods would be to court the intervention of the three Powers."
"Secretly withdraw the documents and the treasure from the convent."
"With soldiers patrolling the precincts?" said Dorislas. "Lipski, subtle knave that he is, has artfully turned our own bayonets against us. Every one passing out of the convent is carefully searched."
"Bribe the soldiers."
"Lipski is alive to that manœuvre. Day and night his creatures are watching that monastery."
"Let the monks, then, bury the arms and the treasure within their own walls."
"Lipski, who is certain to be appointed one of the Commissioners, will dig up every foot of ground and pull down every brick in his endeavors to discover something of disadvantage to the ministry," returned Dorislas.
Paul made no more suggestions; how, indeed, could he, when it passed the wit of the premier himself to devise a plan adequate for defeating the manœuvres of Lipski?
"If the bill should pass," continued Dorislas, "I see but one way out of our difficulty. The monks must contrive to steal out some dark night, leaving a slow match burning in the powder-magazine."
"And we must lose the fruit of years?" said the princess, mournfully.
"Why, your Highness, consider what would happen otherwise. Here, close to the Russian frontier, and commanding the highroad to Warsaw, is an edifice, presumably a monastery, but in reality a fortress and an arsenal. True, Abbot Faustus can destroy the treasonable documents; yet, nevertheless, here will be found, because impossible to be annihilated or concealed, a vast store of gold, rifles for one hundred thousand men, and other war matériel. Vain would it be for the Czernovese ministry to put an innocent interpretation upon their attempts to keep the interior workings of this convent from public view. The Czar would be wanting in common sense if he should not see in all this a menace to his own dominions. His ministers, in fact, already have their suspicions, and hence they are more eager than Lipski himself for the passing of the Appropriation Bill."
"I note that the marshal has not yet spoken," smiled Barbara; "sure proof that he is developing some plan. Now, Zabern, your enemies call you 'the Asp of Czernova'; you must maintain your character for serpentine wisdom by extricating us from our dilemma."
"Fear not, your Highness. Lipski shall not triumph. On the third reading I, without resorting to bribery, threats, or violence, will persuade the Diet to reject his bill."
"How?" asked Radzivil, who, desirous as he was of seeing the measure defeated, yet nevertheless felt aggrieved that Zabern should propose to do what he himself, the premier, despaired of doing; "how? what is your plan?"
"To reveal it beforehand would ensure its defeat. My plan is one which requires absolute concealment."
"Even from the princess?" said Barbara.
"From the princess most of all," replied Zabern with a peculiar smile.
This statement was naturally productive of great surprise on the part of Barbara.
"We will accept your saying, marshal, though a hard one, and put a check upon our curiosity. You have never yet failed to keep word with me—"
"And shall not fail now, your Highness."
"Then," said Barbara, rising, as there came floating on the air from the ball-room the slow, dreamy music of a Hungarian waltz, "then if Zabern be on the watch, the princess may dance. Captain Woodville, your arm. You were promised a dance. Let me redeem my word. But first, marshal, guard these papers for me. It would be dangerous to let them fall upon the ball-room floor."
And Barbara, having handed to Zabern the documents which she had received from the Polish envoy, moved off towards the ball-room leaning upon the arm of Paul.
This bestowal of favor upon her secretary caused Radzivil and Dorislas to stare suspiciously at each other; but ere they could interchange thought on the matter, their attention was diverted by the sound of many voices coming from the direction contrary to that taken by the princess.
Looking up, the three ministers beheld moving along the terrace towards them a company of masqueraders, ladies and gentlemen, fancifully costumed. All were laughing and talking gayly, being evidently in the best of spirits.
"Whom have we here?" muttered Radzivil, eying the throng.
"He who would supplant the princess in the sovereignty," replied Zabern, recognizing the central figure, who was garbed as Peter the Great. "A barbarian aping a barbarian."
"The Duke of Bora?"
"The same, surrounded by his favorites and satellites, all jubilant with the thought that Lipski's bill will triumph, and that the fall of the princess is at hand. Let them laugh. Their gayety will turn to mortification after next week's vote shall have been taken. Let us uncover and tempt the traitor to address us. I am curious to learn what he will say."
As the duke and his friends drew near the trio unmasked. Bora, catching sight of them, stopped in his walk, and then came slowly forward attended by his followers, all intent on enjoying the presumable mortification of the ministers.
"A sad blow this, dear marshal, to the feelings of the princess," began the duke blandly, and lighting a cigar as he spoke. "It's quite certain that the Appropriation Bill will pass."
"Pass? Oh! dear no. Nothing of the sort," replied Zabern in his most cheerful manner.
"We have just been informed that the second reading has been carried by a majority of 'eleven.'"
"The third reading has yet to come."
"Now, Saint Nicholas give you wisdom!" cried Bora, amid the scarcely repressed laughter of his creatures. "Are you clinging to the hope that the men who voted one thing to-night will vote the contrary seven days hence?"
"I know that they will," returned Zabern, coolly.
"There is certain to be a full House next week—one hundred and twenty members, should Ravenna have returned from Rome in time to take part in the division. Out of that number I venture to prophesy that seventy will be found to reject the bill."
"Giving the ministry a majority of twenty?"
"Giving the ministry a majority of twenty," repeated Zabern.
Bora could only attribute this utterance to mere bravado.
"Marshal, I should like to know with what amount you will back your opinion," he sneered.
"With whatever sum your grace is prepared to back yours."
"I will stake five thousand roubles—" began the duke.
"Oh! your grace, make it more than that," said Zabern affably.
"I will double the amount. I will wager ten thousand roubles that the votes given against the bill will fall short of seventy."
"Let me have that wager in your handwriting, dear duke," said Zabern blandly. "The like sum from me if ministers have not seventy votes on their side, or a clear majority of twenty."
When the written pledges had been interchanged Radzivil spoke, addressing the duke in somewhat indignant tones.
"And do you bet, then, on the success of a measure known to be hateful to the princess?"
Bora shrugged his shoulders.
"This is a bill on which the best of friends may differ, as is shown by the schism among your own Polish adherents. Remember," he added, "there must be no underhand work to secure the passing of this bill, or my wager becomes null and void. There must be no bribery on the part of the ministry."
"We leave bribery to Lipski and his principal, Orloff; or shall I put the word in the plural, your grace, and say principals," said Zabern with a meaning smile.
Bora gave a slight start, which did not escape the other's notice.
"You see, dear duke," drawled Zabern airily, "we know all that is going on behind the scenes. Governor Orloff in his palace at Warsaw pulls the strings, and the puppets dance in the Diet of Slavowitz. Next week I shall manipulate the strings, and you shall see the figures dancing to my tune."
The duke began to grow somewhat uneasy under the knowledge displayed by Zabern. In his previous contests with the wily Pole he had always come off second-best. Was Zabern again to triumph over him?
"You talk boldly, marshal," he said with a supercilious smile, "but I think I shall win my roubles."
So saying he passed on with his company.
"Humph!" muttered Radzivil, gloomily, "it's quite clear that, vexed with the princess for excluding him from the cabinet, he will now throw in his lot with the Opposition."
"Therein appearing in his true colors," replied Zabern. "There he walks, a would-be sovereign, attended by a would-be court. Carpe diem, Bora, carpe diem! Enjoy your brief span of existence! The 15th of September next will see your end."
"The 15th of September?" repeated Dorislas. "That is the day of the princess's coronation."
"True; and if I rightly forecast the future, Dorislas, the duke will not outlive that day."
By a singular turn of circumstances the day on which the fate of the Appropriation Bill was to be decided, and possibly with that bill the fate of Czernova itself, was likewise the day appointed for the annual review of the Czernovese army.
This marshalling of troops took place in a spacious plain a few miles to the north of Slavowitz, and was presided over by the princess herself.
The muster fell considerably short of that of the previous year, due to the fact that many of the troops were engaged in the duty of keeping guard over the numerous monasteries of Czernova.
Still, in spite of absentee regiments, the review was a fine sight, even in the eyes of Paul, accustomed as he was to much more striking displays. His frequent expressions of admiration gave pleasure to Barbara, who had been somewhat dreading his criticism, anticipating that he, as a tried soldier, might disparage the merits of an army, whose mettle had never yet been tested in actual battle.
A peculiar and significant feature of the scene was the proximity of the Convent of the Transfiguration, which overlooked the place of the review. Barbara's landau was drawn up almost within the shadow of its gray Gothic towers.
The weird chant of the monks, that dirge which had never ceased day or night for fifty years, was clearly audible, mingling with the more stirring and martial sounds without, and contributing to impress Paul with the curious character of Czernovese civilization.
The precincts of this convent were patrolled by sentinels whom the Diet had sent thither to prevent any removal of monastic treasures on the part of ecclesiastics who might feel tempted to evade the provisions of the pending bill.
With bayonets flashing in the sunshine, the sentries paced slowly to and fro, their presence grimly reminding the princess that there was a greater than herself in Czernova, to wit, the Diet. That legislature, regardless of her wish in the matter, might that very night pass a measure destined to disclose the secrets of a conspiracy of which she was the head.
Nothing had occurred during the course of the week to lead to the opinion that the Diet would change their views respecting the Appropriation Bill; on the contrary, judging from the tenor of the debates, it seemed probable that the majority in its favor would be increased on the third and final reading.
No wonder then, that, though she smiled pleasantly upon each regiment in the grand march past, winning all hearts by her gracious demeanor, Barbara nevertheless felt a terrible depression of spirit at the thought of the coming night,—a depression which all Zabern's assurances could not remove.
The review being over, the princess and her suite set off for Slavowitz. Paul and Radzivil sat side by side in the same landau with Barbara, while Zabern rode in the rear at the head of a troop of horse.
About a mile from the scene of the review the road for a considerable distance was bordered on each side by thick woods.
As the carriage rolled on, the postilions beheld in the distance two men by the wayside sitting upon the trunk of a fallen tree. They were fellows of rough appearance, seemingly woodmen or charcoal-burners; one, with a black beard, was holding a newspaper in his hand and apparently reading from it, while his companion, a red-bearded individual, seemed to be listening.
When the princess's landau was a few yards distant, these two men sprang to their feet with startling quickness, and then it was seen that the red-bearded fellow held a revolver in his hand. Raising the weapon he pointed it at the princess, and took aim so quickly that the postilions had not time to raise a warning cry.
Barbara, though her face was set in the direction of her would-be assassin, saw nothing of his action, being occupied at the time in an animated conversation with the premier.
One shot whizzed its flight clean through the brim of her hat; a second bullet sang past her temple so closely as to scorch her skin with its fiery glow.
Then as if overcome by sudden terror at the boldness of their deed, or possibly fearful lest the advancing cavalry should prevent their escape, the two men turned, without waiting to see whether the shots had taken effect, and plunged into the woodland bordering the roadside just as Zabern's voice was heard thundering the word, "Fire!"
A dozen carbines rang out simultaneously, but the discharge came a second too late.
Paul and Radzivil, sitting with back to the horses, knew nothing of what was passing, till informed by the report of the firearms, and by the sudden change that came over Barbara's face, for the sight of two men running away, one of whom carried a smoking pistol, apprised her of the peril she had escaped.
"Princess, you are not hurt?" cried the premier, looking far more terrified than Barbara herself.
"No," she answered in a faint voice, but with a smile, "they have missed me."
"Thank heaven!" said Paul. "Count, remain with the princess while I give chase to the villains."
The startled postilions had reined in their horses, bringing the landau to a standstill. Paul sprang from the vehicle just as Zabern with the guards came galloping up, witnesses of the deed which they had been unable to prevent.
Perceiving that the contiguity of the trees prevented the passage of their horses, the troopers flung themselves from the saddle, and dashed after Paul, who had now disappeared in the woodland. Foremost among them was Zabern with his orderly Nikita.
Plunging along a narrow path thick-set on each side with leafy boscage, Paul caught sight of the two retreating figures a few yards only in front of him. They were running in single file, their running being of a somewhat singular character, and very like the leaping of a kangaroo, the cause of which Paul soon divined.
He had drawn out his pistol, and while still forging ahead he took aim at the rearmost figure, but the shot flew aloft almost perpendicularly, for in the very act of firing he stumbled over some hidden obstacle.
Though dazed by concussion with the hard earth he was instantly on his feet again, observant of the fact that the two men had now disappeared round a bend in the path. He dashed swiftly onward, but had scarcely taken a dozen steps when he was once more brought to earth by the same sort of contrivance that had caused his previous fall.
The desperadoes had taken precautions to secure their retreat. Strong wires at irregular distances, placed at the necessary height, and concealed by the profusion of weeds and bracken, had been drawn transversely across the path from tree to tree. The contrivers of this device, aware of the exact position of the wires, had cleared them by a series of leaps, and hence their kangaroo-like motions.
Those following Paul were tripped up in similar manner by the wires which, spread over a distance of about a hundred yards, retarded the pursuit, and enabled the fugitives to obtain a good start.
At a point a little way beyond the last wire the path branched off in three directions through the wood, and a momentary halt took place on the part of the pursuers, doubtful as to which track they should take, since the fugitives themselves were lost to view.
The quick eye of Zabern detected a bright-colored object lying a few feet away down the left-hand path. It proved to be a red cap, decorated with a paltry leaden medal of the Czar, a cap declared by Nikita to have been worn by the black-bearded individual.
"Then, forward," cried Zabern, taking the lead. "They have fled this way."
The trio set off again, the extreme narrowness of the path compelling them to run in single file. The ground, hard at first, gradually assumed a moist and muddy character. Its appearance brought Zabern to a sudden stop.
"There are no foot-prints here. We are on the wrong track. Back again. The villains must have flung that cap into this path purposely to mislead us."
Chafing at their loss of time, they ran back to the place where the tracks diverged. Other troopers had come up by this time, and while Paul and Zabern and Nikita took the middle track others hastened along the right-hand path.
"They may not have followed the path at all," said Paul, as he hurried along in the rear of Zabern. "They may be lying hidden in the wood."
"True; but we'll post through first, and if we find no trace of them in the road beyond, I'll draw a cordon round the wood through which they shall not be able to break."
"Marshal, did you see the face of him who fired?" asked Nikita.
"Not clearly."
"Russakoff the spy, or may I turn Muscovite."
"The red-bearded fellow was not tall enough for Russakoff," answered Paul. "In fact both men struck me as being remarkably short of stature."
"My eyes have not erred."
"Have it so, then," replied Paul, as he stumbled onward. "Let us but lay hands upon the villains, and we shall soon ascertain whether you be right."
A run of a few minutes' duration brought them through the wood to the highway beyond. A quick glance to the right threw Zabern into a paroxysm of rage.
Far off on the white dusty road which stretched onward in a straight line, till it seemed to touch the horizon, three black objects were visible, each moment dwindling in size.
"The villains have escaped us," cried Zabern. "They had horses tethered here with a third man to watch them. See! here are their hoof-marks in the clay. They'll be over the frontier within ten minutes. I warrant they are well provided with Russian passports."
The trio hurried back for horses, but, by the time they had passed them through the wood, the pursuit had become a jest.
Night had fallen over Slavowitz.
Excitement was prevailing both within and without the Diet.
Beneath a glorious starlit sky in the great Zapolyska Square, which fronted the broad and stately flight of steps leading up to the entrance of the Sobieskium or Diet-house, now ablaze with light, was a vast concourse of people, awaiting the stroke of twelve; for at midnight the vote was to be taken on the Secular Appropriation Bill—a measure which had been fiercely debated night after night during the course of five weeks.
Poles, Muscovites, and Jews formed the bulk of this throng, but there was a considerable sprinkling of other elements. Tartars, Cossacks, Hungarians, Roumanians, Servians—representatives of all the motley nationalities of Eastern Europe, elbowed and jostled each other, talking, singing and cursing in a very Babel of tongues.
Diverse, however, as was the crowd, it fell politically into two sharp divisions, the one eager for the passing of the bill, the other eager for its defeat. There was no neutral party in that square.
So high did the spirit of faction run that Zabern's landau on its appearance was overturned by a body of malevolent Muscovites, and the marshal was compelled to lay about him with his sabre till the military came to his rescue.
The indignant Poles retaliated a few minutes later by making an onset upon Lipski, and that deputy escaped only after a severe mauling.
The game once begun was continued by both factions, so that it became almost impossible for the succeeding deputies to reach the Sobieskium, except under police or military escort, or unless attended by a strong circle of their own adherents.
Cheers were given by the hostile sections as their respective favorites were seen safely mounting the steps of the Diet-house beneath the brilliant light of the suspended lamps; the singing of the Polish and the Russian Anthems went on simultaneously all over the square; there were ugly rushes, displays of fisticuffs, scenes of wild disorder, that continued to deepen as the night advanced and the throng increased.
Dorislas, who commanded the mounted cuirassiers drawn up four deep all round the Sobieskium, was obliged to accord the crowd considerable license, lest a too frequent interference on the part of the military should lead to worse mischief.
The tumult and din that filled the Zapolyska Square penetrated the Sobieskium to the distant chamber where the Sejm or Diet sat, the Ministerialists or Poles to the right, the Opposition or Muscovites to the left of the dais, where was the chair, table, and bell of the President Brunowski, he who had been one of Paul's opponents in the salle d'armes.
The presidential bell was in constant requisition on this particular night, for the debate had taken an extremely acrimonious turn. The temper of many of the deputies had not been sweetened by the treatment they had received at the hands of the populace.
Lipski boldly accused the ministers of hiring ruffians whose orders were to stop certain members of the Opposition from reaching the Diet-house and thus to prevent them from recording their votes.
Zabern, pointing to his own frayed uniform and to the ugly scratches on his face, replied that though it would be easy to retort with a "Tu quoque" he would refrain; that the charge was absurd, for the mob had bestowed their favors impartially upon both sides of the House.
The Duke of Bora sat in the chamber, for though no longer of cabinet rank he was still a member of the Diet, and he gave clear indication of the way in which he intended to vote by vacating his usual seat and taking a place next Lipski himself.
Lesko Lipski, deputy for Russograd, editor of the "Kolokol," an anti-dynastic newspaper, leader of the Opposition, and author of the Secular Appropriation Bill, was, as regards appearance, the very antithesis of the typical Russ. He was slim and beardless, and dressed in the latest Parisian fashion, though his costume at that moment, owing to the playfulness of the mob without, was not quite the same as when it had first left the tailor's hands. He had black beady eyes, and his habit of constantly questioning ministers upon every topic under the sun seemed to have permanently impressed his face with an eager, hungry look.
There was in the air of the chamber that nervous feeling of expectancy which always arises when the issue of a contest is problematical. On the previous evening every member of the Diet, Pole and Muscovite alike, had departed with full conviction that the Appropriation Bill would pass.
The attempted assassination of the princess had given a different turn to the matter by creating a feeling of sympathy for her, a feeling which was likewise extended to her political views. To secure the triumph of a measure known to be hateful to the young princess in the first hours of her joy at escaping the assassin's bullet seemed an unchivalrous proceeding; and those of the Poles who had hitherto regarded the bill with favor now began to reconsider their attitude.
The attempt on the princess's life, deplorable from one standpoint, was from another decidedly advantageous, and the ministry were hopeful that they would capture from the Opposition the minimum six votes necessary to secure the rejection of Lipski's measure.
Half-an-hour before midnight Zabern rose to wind up the debate for the ministerial side.
His rising was the signal for a hostile ebullition from the Muscovite members who dreaded Zabern's oratory. Not that the marshal was particularly eloquent; far from it. He had all a soldier's contempt for speech-making and for the "men of words," as he was wont to term the Czernovese deputies; a military dictatorship was more to his liking than a democratic legislature. Hence his voice was rarely heard in the chamber, but when he did speak it was always to the point, and his plain, blunt way of putting matters had often decided wavering voters, and at that moment there were a good many wavering voters.
At first Zabern was unable to obtain a hearing. Every time he attempted to speak, his words were drowned in a terrible din, occasioned by the clamor of voices, the stamping of feet, and the banging of desk-lids. Though the Duke of Bora did not join in yet, as he made no attempt to check the tumult, Zabern strongly suspected him of being its secret instigator.
For fully two minutes President Brunowski continued to swing his bell, but without producing any effect upon the Opposition, whose intention was plainly to continue the uproar till midnight, in order to prevent Zabern from addressing the assembly.
Brunowski whispered a few words in the ear of an attendant, who left the chamber and returned almost immediately with a file of gendarmes. In the sudden stillness that followed upon their entrance, Brunowski sternly announced his intention of suspending both from the sitting and from the voting all future disturbers of order, a threat which effectually silenced the Muscovite clamorers, who felt that in the present conjuncture they could not afford to lose a single vote.
The marshal, being free to speak, began by affirming the obligation imposed upon him of making some comment upon the recent attempt to assassinate the princess.
At this statement Lipski rose.
"Mr. President, I must protest. The marshal is not in order. He is evading the subject of the debate, which is the Secular Appropriation Bill."
"The marshal will doubtless show the relevancy of his remarks to the matter under discussion," returned Brunowski. As President of the assembly he tried to be impartial, but he could not always forget that he was a Pole.
"The House will understand presently," continued Zabern, "why the honorable deputy wishes the name of the princess to be kept out of the question. Who is responsible for this day's outrage? Not the wretched dupe, who, happily for Czernova, missed his mark. No! as well blame the bullet, or punish the pistol. Sir," continued Zabern, addressing the President, "the real authors of the act are the persons who by their words and writings have labored to create in Czernova a spirit of hostility to its legitimate ruler. And of those persons," thundered the marshal, looking round upon the assembly, "the deputy for Russograd is the chief."
Lipski was on his feet again in an instant.
"Mr. President, must I sit and hear assassination imputed to me without raising my voice in protest?"
"Certainly not. The marshal must withdraw the charge, or prove it."
"The proof is forthcoming. The two miserable wretches who fired at the princess were seen before the deed seated at the wayside, and strengthening their wicked determination by reading from a certain newspaper. I already see the editor of that journal beginning to look uneasy, for the name of the journal is the 'Kolokol,' and its editor is one Lesko Lipski. The would-be assassins were diligent students of the 'Kolokol;' they evidently regarded its editor as a great political teacher."
"How do you know?" inquired the voice of the duke.
"Well, I judge from this circumstance," answered Zabern, producing a dirty copy of the 'Kolokol' and unfolding it. "Here is the identical paper dropped by the two men in their flight. It contains an article entitled, 'Harmodius the Patriot;' and on the margin of this article pencil-notes have been scrawled, such as 'Good!' 'True!' 'This seems reasonable,' and the like; nay, more, we have here in badly spelled Russian this sentiment: 'Death to the girl-tyrant!'"
At this point Zabern held up the journal for the inspection of the assembly.
"Now I need scarcely remind the House that Harmodius was a man of ancient days, who assassinated the ruler of Athens, and was in consequence honored as a splendid patriot by his fellow-citizens. Why does the editor of a journal, supposedly devoted to current politics and affairs of to-day, publish an article on an event that happened twenty-three centuries ago? Simply because he wishes to inculcate the doctrine, that, as it was a fine piece of patriotism to assassinate the ruler of ancient Athens, so would it be an equally fine piece of patriotism to assassinate the ruler of modern Czernova."
"I deny the inference that you draw from that article," cried Lipski.
"Two at least of your readers understand what you mean, and have acted upon your hints. Now, on seeing practical effect given to your teaching, you would cravenly shirk the responsibility for your part in this outrage. Be honest; do not run away from your own words. Perhaps the House will bear with me while I read a few sentences from this 'Killing No Murder' essay."
"You must read the whole of it, or none," said Brunowski, "inasmuch as one passage may be modified by another."
Zabern adopted the President's first alternative, and read the entire article, which, although written in guarded language, with a view of preserving its author from the possibilities of legal indictment, was obviously a plea for the assassination of rulers who have become obnoxious to their subjects.
At the conclusion of the marshal's reading, there was a storm of hisses from the Right. The Left sat in sullen silence.
"It is known to all that on coming to the throne the princess, with one stroke of her pen, abolished the censorship of the press. And this," continued Zabern, pointing to the criminatory article in the "Kolokol,"—"this is how the privilege has been requited! Such, gentlemen of the Diet, such are the sentiments—such is the character of the deputy for Russograd! And yet this teacher of assassination has the effrontery to come forward and solicit the votes of the Poles—the Poles, who, whatever may be their faults, are at least men of honor, and loyal to their princess. Vote for this bill? Not if it were the finest piece of legislation ever devised by the wit of statesmen. Those who can may separate the man from his bill; for my part, the two are identical. Every suffrage cast on the side of Lipski, every vote given in favor of this bill, is a vote in favor of assassination."
"No, no," cried the Left. "We are not assassins."
"That statement shall be proved by your votes. Let those who repudiate the work of the assassin, let those who rejoice at the escape of the princess from death, show their sympathy by rejecting a bill which is hurtful to the best feelings of the princess."
And now ensued a dramatic tableau pre-arranged by the wily Zabern. A small door opened upon the right of the presidential chair, and Barbara herself entered the hall of debate, to the utter confounding of the deputies, whose first thought was that she had come to dissolve the Diet.
Brunowski immediately vacated his chair in favor of the princess, who took her place on the dais, but remained standing. Her mien, graceful and bright, offered a pleasing contrast to that of the angry debaters. Even the Muscovites were forced to admit that if beauty of person should entitle one to a crown, their princess would have carried off all the diadems of Europe.
The silence that came over the chamber caused the din of voices in the square to be much more plainly heard. The tumultuous sounds without lent additional excitement to the scene within.
The princess glanced slowly around the assembly, and then, as if moved by a sudden idea, she removed her hat,—the same hat that she had worn on her return from the review. In the act of taking it off the light from behind gleamed through a hole in the brim, a mute appeal to the sympathy of the House, the more striking because unintentional.
"Your Highness, do not uncover," cried Brunowski.
"I crave your pardon, Mr. President," replied Barbara, and her utterance sounded like a clear silvery bell after Brunowski's magnificent bass voice, "but I understand that the usages of this House require that only one person shall remain covered."
This was said in reference to Lipski, who, while all the rest of the deputies were standing uncovered, sat with his hat on his head.
Zabern, with his sabre clinking against his spurs, strode across the floor of the House.
"Fellow!" he muttered, grinding his teeth, "if you do not remove your hat, my troopers shall nail it to your pate."
And Lipski, seeing Zabern's savage demeanor, prudently doffed his head-covering.
"Mr. President," said Radzivil, "I move that the deputy for Russograd be suspended from this sitting for treating the person of the princess with contempt."
"Oh, no, Count," observed Barbara. "Let it not be said that we sought to deprive a deputy of his vote."
When the ringing of the President's bell had repressed the cheers evoked by this remark, Barbara proceeded to explain the reason of her appearance.
"Mr. President, Ministers and Deputies," she began, speaking with self-possession and dignity, "it may be said that the princess ought not to intervene in the affairs of the Diet, but should remain quiescent, and simply register the decrees of the majority. But, sir," she added, with a graceful inclination of her head towards Brunowski, "your princess is not an automaton, but a human being with feelings that can be moved. I feel strongly on this bill, and I do not hesitate to say so."
She paused for a moment, and then resumed.
"I shall always act with regard to the Constitution. If this bill should pass I shall affix my signature."
Cheers arose from the Left.
"But I trust the House will not let it pass."
Counter-cheers arose from the Right.
"If my sentiments can in any way influence the decision of deputies, I would appeal to them, irrespective of party, to reject this measure."
With this she bowed to the Diet, and withdrew from the chamber, amid enthusiastic cries of "Long live the Princess of Czernova!"
The chivalry of the Poles, if not of the Muscovites, was evoked. The assassin's pistol-shot, the princess's personal appeal, had produced more effect than all the oratory of the five previous weeks.
As soon as Brunowski had resumed the presidential chair, Zabern again spoke.
"The princess has made it a personal question between herself and Lipski. Well, gentlemen, you have seen the princess, and—you see Lipski," he continued, pointing to that deputy, who looked far from amiable at that moment. "Can any man doubt," he added, with fine scorn, "can any man doubt for whom he shall vote? Let it not be said that—"
Zabern paused. A sound louder than any they had yet heard penetrated to the chamber. A mighty roar was rising from the Zapolyska Square. Twenty thousand voices blending into one proclaimed that the time had come for deciding the great controversy. The iron tongue of the cathedral-clock was booming forth the hour of midnight.
"The vote will now be taken," cried Brunowski, amid a scene of indescribable excitement.
"I move that it be taken by secret ballot," exclaimed Zabern.
"I oppose it," said the Duke of Bora.
The President put the question to the assembly, and the proposal for secret ballot was carried by acclamation.
Zabern smiled grimly as he observed the secret glances of rage interchanged between Bora and Lipski. By this manœuvre on his part they were prevented from learning whether those Poles who had secretly taken the gold of Orloff would vote according to promise.
In the Diet of Slavowitz, when voting by ballot, each deputy took from his desk one of a set of discs. These discs were of two colors, white for affirmation, black for negation.
Concealing the disc between the fingers and the palm—carrying it openly was forbidden on pain of forfeiture of the vote—each deputy walked past the presidential table, and placing his hand within the mouth of a large bronze urn, dropped the disc.
As a precaution against the artifice of giving more than one vote, the names of the deputies were marked on the roll as each person passed by, and the number of counters checked by this arrangement.
In prescribed order the deputies quitted their seats, and filed past the table, and for a few moments nothing was heard but the clink of the metallic discs as they fell within the urn. Brunowski took no part in the division, but had the right of a casting-vote.
"One hundred and nineteen members have voted," said the chief clerk, looking up from the register, after the last suffrage had been given.
This was a record division, being the largest that had ever occurred in the history of the Czernovese Diet. Every deputy, with the exception of Cardinal Ravenna, was present and had voted.
The great question was how had they voted?
Amid a hush like that in the chamber of the dying when the fatal moment has come, the chief clerk, at a sign from the President, slowly inverted the urn, and poured out the discs upon the red table-cloth.
In their excitement the deputies rose and stood upon seats and desks, craning their necks forward, eager to catch the first glimpse of the black and white counters, eager to learn which of the two was the prevailing color.
To the waiting populace in the Zapolyska Square the time taken in recording the votes and in counting the same seemed unnecessarily long.
A great sensation had been created when the officials of the House reported to those near the doors that the princess herself had appeared in the Diet with an appeal for the rejection of the bill. The story gathered in detail as it passed from mouth to mouth, and men on the outskirts of the crowd told how the princess with tears in her eyes had gone down on her knees before the assembly, and how Zabern, sabre in hand, had stalked up and down the chamber threatening to cut the throats of all who would not vote against the bill.
And when the hour of midnight began to toll, and Dorislas was seen to fling himself from his charger, and hurry up the steps of the Diet-house, for the purpose of recording his vote within the chamber, the interest grew to fever-heat.
Wild work had been going on in the square, but now the knowledge that the great division was taking place had a somewhat quieting effect upon the crowd. All eyes were turned towards the grand entrance, brilliant with light that streamed far out into the darkness, for from this entrance the result was to be proclaimed.
Ten minutes after midnight there was a movement at the head of the stairs; the gendarmes parted, and the white-haired clerk of the House was seen holding in his hand the paper inscribed with the momentous result. Dorislas appeared at the same instant and mounted his charger in readiness for the riot which he knew to be imminent.
Standing at the head of the steps the clerk raised his hand, and at that signal the crowd, which but a moment before had been surging this way and that, became instantly immobile. The square was a sea of upturned faces, each gleaming with painful curiosity. Even the cuirassiers extended along the front wall of the Diet-house forgot for a moment their discipline, and bent sideways in the saddle, eager to hear the result. The stillness of death prevailed. Not a movement. Not a word. Not a breath.
"People of Czernova," said the clerk, speaking in a voice that penetrated to every portion of the square, "in a House of one hundred and nineteen members, thirty-nine have voted for the Secular Appropriation Bill, and eighty against it. The measure therefore stands rejected by a majority of forty-one."
These figures seemed to show that the voting had been conducted strictly on party lines. The Muscovite members of the Diet numbered thirty-eight, or, with the addition of the Duke of Bora, thirty-nine. The tale of the Poles was eighty-one; the vote of the absent Ravenna being deducted, the majority of forty-one was thus accounted for.
The publication of the figures was followed by a moment of bewildering silence. The Poles could not believe in such a victory, nor the Muscovites in such a defeat. Some among the crowd, supposing that the clerk had made an error in his statement, called upon him to read it again.
But now at the side of the clerk appeared the tall figure of Zabern, waving his helmet and greeting his adherents with a triumphant smile.
All doubt vanished. Exultant cries of "Slava! slava!" burst from Polish throats. The Muscovites replied by yells of execration. The two factions were intermingled; the triumph of the one evoked the fury of the other, and in a moment more the Zapolyska Square was transformed to pandemonium.
"Forward!" cried Dorislas, waving his sabre. "Clear the square."
And loud above the trampling and the din arose a carillon of bells from the cathedral of St. Stanislas, pealing forth a jubilation over the victory gained by the Latin Church.
Inside the House the excitement was equally great. Pole shook hands with Pole, for it was felt to be a splendid party triumph. The Muscovite members stared sullenly at each other, Lipski himself looking the very incarnation of malignity. More than a score of Polish deputies, after accepting splendid bribes, had betrayed him by voting with Zabern, and he was precluded from making their duplicity known by the fact that the procuration of a deputy's vote by bribery was an offence punishable by perpetual exclusion from the Diet.
Both parties streamed out into the corridors to discuss the event, leaving Brunowski and a dozen members in the chamber to pass the resolution: "That the military be withdrawn from the monasteries."
In a small apartment, adjacent to the hall of debate, sat Barbara, surrounded by her radiant ministers. An ardent politician, she was in her element on such nights as these.
"A two-thirds majority of the House!" she murmured with a glow on her cheek. "Thirty-nine for the bill, and eighty against it. What a triumph!"
"Thank heaven, our secret is safe!" said Radzivil. "Kossuth can have his gold."
"Another defeat for Russia!" grinned Zabern. "How Orloff will regret the roubles he has wasted!"
In passing along one of the corridors Zabern encountered the Duke of Bora.
That ex-minister, long a traitor at heart, and a secret sympathizer with the aims of the Opposition, had at last cast off the mask, but on a very inopportune occasion as he now perceived. Hoping to profit by the anticipated defeat of the ministry, and the consequent confusion, if not fall, of the princess, he had crossed to the opposite side of the House, and he had seated himself cheek by jowl with Lipski and his colleagues, only to see them suffer a most crushing defeat. His mortification, already great, was enhanced by Zabern's caustic smile.
"Ah, dear duke, you don't seem quite so cheerful as you did last week on the Long Terrace. Payment within one hour after the division," he continued, exhibiting the duke's written pledge, "was not that our agreement? May I trouble your grace, then, for the sum of ten thousand roubles, since our majority has exceeded twenty? Ten thousand roubles is rather a large amount, but you will doubtless recoup yourself from Orloff's Bribery Fund."
If looks had power to kill, Zabern would certainly have fallen dead beneath Bora's savage glance. Unable, however, to evade the fulfilment of his word, the duke reluctantly wrote out a check for the required amount.
"An unforeseen circumstance has enabled you to win this wager," he said, curtly.
"Yes, it was a very fortunate—ah!—circumstance for us," drawled Zabern, as he walked away with the check in his pocket, "but as to its being unforeseen!—" He finished the sentence with a short laugh. "Duke of Bora, you must be the biggest fool in Czernova not to suspect the game I've played."
Averse to the noisy demonstrations, friendly or hostile, which her presence in the crowded streets was certain to evoke, Barbara lingered for some time in the Diet-house, conversing with the deputies of both parties, and charming even the rugged hearts of the Muscovites by her gracious and winsome manner.
When the streets were reported quiet she drove back to the Vistula Palace, accompanied by Zabern and Paul, the latter of whom from a side gallery had watched the course of the debate.
The trio retired to the White Saloon.
"That pistol-shot has wrought us so much good, marshal," observed Barbara, "that I feel quite capable of forgiving the assassin."
"Then your Highness shall have an opportunity of doing so," replied Zabern, "since he, or rather she, is in the next apartment."
He stamped heavily on the floor thrice. A door opened, and there entered Katina Ludovska with her sister Juliska, not now garbed in male attire, as when awaiting the princess's landau in the forest-road, but dressed each in her own pretty Polish costume.
They advanced with a somewhat timid air and knelt, till requested by the wondering princess to rise. They were not strangers to her, for she had often witnessed their fencing feats in the salle d'armes.
"This lady," said Zabern, indicating Katina, "craves pardon for shooting at the princess, without obtaining her Highness's permission, but at the same time she can plead that she was acting under the command of Marshal Zabern."
"Explain," said the princess, haughtily, and with a flash of her eyes that made even the bold Katina quail.
"It was well known to the Diet," began Zabern, cool and unabashed, "that your Highness was opposed to the Appropriation Bill. Six votes only were wanted to secure its rejection.
"Now, if at the present crisis some desperado would only oblige us by seeking to kill your Highness, the attempt would create such a feeling of sympathy among the secessionist members of our party that not only would the required six votes be captured, but many more in addition.
"I therefore resolved that such outrage should take place. But the deed must have every appearance of reality. Blank cartridges might suggest a mock attempt, but real bullets, missing your Highness's person by a hair's-breadth only, would disarm all suspicion.
"Accordingly, I made overtures to the finest pistol-shot in Czernova, Katina Ludovska, who consented to the plan.
"Do not accuse me of recklessly hazarding your Highness's life, since I was fully convinced that Katina's hand would not fail, for Juliska of her own accord gave me striking proof of her sister's unerring marksmanship. She bade Katina regard her as the princess, and while Katina stood revolver in hand upon the steps of the inn-door, Juliska rode fearlessly past on horseback six times in succession; and on each occasion Katina sent one shot through the brim of her sister's hat, while the second whizzed close to her temple.
"This experiment convinced me of Katina's ability to do the trick, and success has justified my opinion. A bold liberty on my part, your Highness, but pardonable, considering the object I had in view."
Barbara's first emotion of breathless amazement was followed by a sense of anger, as she recalled the dreadful sensation that came over her when the hot bullet whizzed past her face.
"Remember," pleaded Zabern, cognizant of Barbara's feelings, "remember that your Highness gave me carte blanche to do whatsoever I pleased, provided that I could but secure the rejection of the Appropriation Bill."
This was true, but who could have guessed that Zabern would have resorted to such a desperate remedy?
"And you could devise no other plan than this for defeating the bill?"
"None, though I racked my brain for a week."
Barbara's anger began to yield to a mournful feeling. It was her belief that no state can flourish long on duplicity. If her chief minister could maintain her in power only by resorting to trickery such as this, then, indeed, the day of her fall could not be far distant.
"It is past," she murmured. "I am scathless, and the bill is rejected; what more should I desire?" And then, addressing Katina and her sister, she said, "You played a very hazardous game as well with your own lives as with mine. Why, marshal, you ordered the guards to fire upon the fugitives!"
"Nikita was in the plot, your Highness, and had taken the precaution to serve out blank cartridges to your corps du garde; so the volley was a harmless one. But I confess my heart was in my mouth when I saw Captain Woodville taking aim with his pistol. Fortunately he tripped up in the very act of firing."
"I little thought that I was taking aim at Mistress Katina," smiled Paul, "and grateful am I that she did not return the shot. And so Nikita was in the plot? Why, the rogue vowed that one of the two was Russakoff!"
"He couldn't resist the temptation of poking a little fun at you," replied Zabern. "Had you looked round, you would have seen him choking with suppressed laughter."
"And I suppose, marshal, that you led the way down the path where the red cap lay—"
"Purposely to give Katina and Juliska more time to escape."
"And I presume, likewise, that it was your hand which annotated the copy of the 'Kolokol' newspaper?"
"Precisely. Those marginal remarks were my own invention."
Paul could not refrain from laughter as he recalled the fine air of indignation with which Zabern had pointed out to the Diet the annotations that his own pencil had made.
"Marshal, you lie with admirable grace."
"I have lived five years in Russia, you see."
"But, marshal," remonstrated Barbara, gravely, "you have placed me in a false position, by letting me pose before the Diet as the escaped victim of an assassination plot."
"A splendid way of catching votes," returned Zabern, coolly. "And votes were what we wanted."
"And you have endeavored to connect Lipski with the deed. Is that well devised, marshal?"
"Perfectly," replied the unscrupulous Zabern. "He has in his paper advocated the slaying of rulers; he is therefore a potential, if not an actual, assassin. I have but given the people of Czernova a practical illustration of his teaching. O your Highness, let me show that your consideration for Lipski is somewhat misplaced. You are doubtless aware that to his editorship of the 'Kolokol' he also adds the calling of gunsmith and armorer, and a very convenient calling it is for one who is ill-disposed to the state."
"Be plainer with me, marshal."
"I have long suspected Lipski of treasonable designs, and therefore, observing a few days ago that a private house contiguous to his establishment in the Boulevard de Cracovie was to be let, I instructed one of my spies to rent and occupy the said house, the cellar of which adjoins Lipski's. Last night my agent and I cautiously removed a few bricks from the upper part of the intervening wall, and turned the light of a lantern through the orifice thus made. Your Highness, that vault, which is a lofty and spacious one, contains more rifles than Lipski will ever be able to sell, even if he should live to be a centenarian. They lie stacked up from floor to ceiling. I probably do not overshoot the mark when I say that there cannot be less than ten thousand. The law does not permit any citizen, even a gunsmith, to possess one-twentieth of that number."
"This is a grave matter," said Barbara. "Those arms must be seized."
"Certainly, your Highness; for while it is right for us to store up arms against the Czar, it's a monstrous thing that the Czar's hirelings should be permitted to pile up arms against ourselves. Never let others do to you as you would do to them."
"You have a cynical way of putting things, marshal."
"These arms are designed for the denizens of Russograd. As they are much too poor to purchase their own rifles, there is to be a free distribution—probably on the night of the 14th of September."
"The eve of my coronation," said Barbara, startled by this announcement.
"The same. My spies report that there are whispers among the Muscovites of an armed rising to take place on the coronation day. In fact, they propose to hold a rival coronation in the Greek basilica. You can guess, princess, who is to play the central figure in this unauthorized ceremony."
"A ceremony that shall never take place," said Barbara, with a flash of her eyes.
"True. We'll foil them. With your sanction, princess, I'll make no movement at present in this matter. The longer we delay Lipski's arrest the more the plot will develop, the wider will be the sweep of our net when the cast is made, and the more fishes shall we enclose. Meantime, rest assured that my spy will keep a careful eye upon that secret store of arms."
"Be it so, marshal. We leave the matter to your wisdom."
"And your Highness pardons that little affair of the shooting?"
The princess with a smile extended her hand for Zabern to kiss.
"Without your constant vigilance, marshal, the princess were nothing."