CHAPTER I
TWO YEARS AFTERWARDS
"Here's to the Princess of Czernova!" cried Noel Trevisa,--adark-eyed, handsome young fellow,--raising his glass as he spoke."Have you seen her yet, Paul?"
Captain Cressingham, or to use the new name assumed by him on thedeath of a relative, Captain Woodville, smiled at the enthusiasm withwhich his friend proposed the toast.
"I entered Slavowitz only last evening," he replied, "and have alreadybeen asked that question six times. It seems to be the first one putto a visitor."
"And when you have seen her you will cease to wonder at the pride ofthe Czernovese in their princess. Natalie Lilieska is more thanbeautiful,--she is Beauty's self."
This interchange took place on an elevated balcony of the Hotel deVarsovie, the principal establishment of its kind in Slavowitz, thepicturesque capital of the old Polish principality of Czernova.
Between Paul and his companion stood a marble-topped table decoratedwith a bottle of Chartreuse and a box of cigars, and in the quietenjoyment of these luxuries the two Englishmen yielded themselves tolazy abandon in the soft sunshine of a spring morning, watching thegay current of Czernovese life as it flowed along the boulevardbeneath their feet.
Two years had elapsed since the night when Barbara had been carriedoff to perish, as Paul believed, in the engulfing of Castel Nuovo.
A fishing-barque passing by next morning had taken Paul from theisland; its arrival was timely, for the vessel had scarcely gonehalf-a-mile when the sea became violently agitated, and Isola Sacraitself disappeared beneath the waves. The frightened fishermen,perceiving that the force of the earthquake was not yet spent, refusedto put in on the Dalmatian coast, believing it to be safer on waterthan on land. For four-and-twenty hours they kept out on the deep,disembarking only when they deemed the peril past.
The moment Paul touched land he made his way to the vicinity of CastelNuovo, and found its site covered by the sea. Must he believe that thelast resting-place of Barbara was fathoms deep below these waves? Herowed to and fro over the spot, peering through the singularlytransparent water, and sometimes fancying that he could discern theghostly outline of towers and battlements.
Had Barbara really been lodged at Castel Nuovo during the night of theearthquake, or at some other place?
Inquiries carried on by him within a wide area around Castel Nuovoyielded no tidings as to the missing maiden. Barbara, Jacintha,Lambro, were like the shadows of a past dream.
Blank despair settled upon Paul. Life seemed scarcely worth living.
Then came news that the British troops stationed at Corfu had beenordered to India to suppress a rising among the hill-tribes of thefrontier.
Paul, whose first impulse had been to resign his commission, nowdecided to accompany his regiment lest his retirement on the eve ofwar should be attributed to a spirit of cowardice. The fierce thrillof fighting might help to drown the memory of Barbara--for a time.And since life without her was hard to bear, he cherished the hopethat an Afghan spear might give him the death he desired.
On his arrival at Corfu, Paul learned that, owing to the death of awealthy aunt, he was now master of considerable landed property inKent, subject to the condition that he should assume his relative'sname of Woodville. Paul mechanically acquiesced, and was henceforthgazetted as "Captain Woodville."
"Cressingham or Woodville, what matters?" he said. "Soon to be alittle dust, I hope."
This legal formality over, he hurried off to India.
In the campaign that followed he did not die; on the contrary, helived to gain a brilliant reputation,--a reputation destined, thoughhe foresaw it not, to stand him in good stead during a politicalcrisis of the future.
In a small border-fortress he found himself one of a garrison of fourhundred men besieged by an Afghan force twenty times its own number.
It was winter, and the mountain-passes were filled with snow.
Weeks must elapse ere relief could come. Scantily provided withartillery, their provisions running out, sleepless from incessantattacks, the heroic little band kept grimly to the work.
Early in the siege the major in command, with two or three officers,yielding to a spirit of fear strange in English soldiers, proposed incouncil an unconditional surrender.
"We were sent here," said Paul, darkly and haughtily, "to hold thefortress, not to cede it. If you do not know your duty, Major, thereare those who will teach it you. I will shoot the first man that talksagain of surrender, be he commandant or be he private."
And without delay Paul took strong measures. He put his own superior,together with the recreant officers, under arrest, and he himself tookthe command. Upon this there arose from the garrison, when informed ofwhat had taken place, a ringing British cheer that startled the enemyin their distant entrenchments.
Paul henceforth was the soul of the fight,--at the head of everysortie, charging the enemy regardless of their number. The garrisonattributed his conduct to sheer devilry; it was, in truth, thedespairing mood of a man bent on finding death.
Ever amid the clash of arms he seemed to see before him the beautifulface of her whom he had lost, and scarcely conscious of the fact, hewould cry "Barbara! Barbara!" to the bewilderment of his men. The wildAfghans shrank back in dismay whenever the "Feringhee devil" turnedhis dripping sabre in their direction, deeming the "bar-bar-a" utteredby him to be a magic spell capable of dealing death around.
When at last the long-desired relief came, and the story of the heroicdefence of Tajapore became known to the world, Paul found that he hadunintentionally become a famous person.
At the end of his second year in India Paul made a remarkablediscovery.
Up till that time he had entertained the belief that Cardinal Ravennahad perished in the Dalmatian earthquake, though strange as it mayappear, he had not thought of putting his opinion to the proof byascertaining whether the Sacred College had actually lost a member inthe year '45. However, being in the club-room at Poonah one day, hehappened to be glancing over a continental newspaper, when his eye wascaught by the following paragraph,--
"The Pope has been pleased to appoint Cardinal Ravenna to thearchiepiscopal see of Slavowitz."
Paul laid down the paper trembling with new hope. If the cardinal hadsurvived the earthquake, why should not Barbara likewise? Could it bethat she was really alive?
Till that moment Paul had been ignorant of the name of Slavowitz, buta reference to a dictionary of geography informed him that it was thecapital of Czernova, the latter being a small independent state on theborders of Austria and Russia.
He resolved to set off immediately for this principality, for thepurpose of interviewing the dark-dealing cardinal in whose breast wascontained the secret of Barbara's history.
Two years' assiduous attention to duty easily earned for Paul a longfurlough. He quitted India, arrived at Alexandria, and took ship forConstantinople; thence travelling post-haste day and night he threadedthe passes of the Balkans, crossed the Danube, traversed the forestsof the Carpathians, and finally arrived at Slavowitz late at night,where he was much disappointed to learn that the new archbishop wasabsent from his see, having gone on a journey to Rome, his return,however, being daily expected.
Paul determined to await his coming.
On this, his first morning at Slavowitz, while gazing from the balconyof his hotel, he caught sight of an old college chum in the person ofNoel Trevisa.
Paul immediately cried to him by name, and in a moment more the twofriends were sitting together renewing old memories; and great wereTrevisa's surprise and admiration on learning that the CaptainWoodville whose name had become familiar to all Europe, was the sameas his old friend, Paul Cressingham.
"And what has brought you to this city?" inquired Paul, when the otherhad drunk his toast to the fair ruler of Czernova.
"This city is my adopted home. Formerly professor of English at theuniversity of Slavowitz, I am now private secretary to the loveliestprincess in Europe, and occupy a sui
te of apartments in the palace."
"Accept my congratulations. How did you, a foreigner here, obtain thepost?"
"Thaddeus the Good--"
"Who is he?"
"Was, my dear fellow--'was' is the word, inasmuch as he is nomore--the late Prince of Czernova, her Highness's father. He died sixmonths ago."
"I understand. Proceed."
"Prince Thaddeus, about two years ago, offered me the post of tutor tohis daughter Natalie. I was to instruct her in English Literature andEnglish Constitutional History. Naturally I did not refuse so charminga student. When a few months later her secretary resigned throughill-health, the princess installed me in his place, where I am proudto be. I wish I could persuade you too, Paul, to take service underher Highness."
"What! Accept command in a toy army destined never to smell powder!All thanks to you, Noel, but I prefer to remain with the oldTwenty-fourth."
"That's a pity, for the princess is very desirous of officering herarmy with men experienced in warfare. And of all nationalities sheseems to prefer the English. On her return from Dalmatia--"
"From where?" interrupted Paul, sharply.
"From Dalmatia. Why shouldn't she go there?" retorted Trevisa,aggressively.
"Why not, indeed? And how long is it since she returned fromDalmatia?"
"About two years."
"Ha! proceed."
Paul's strange manner led Trevisa to wonder whether his head had notbecome affected by his two years' residence in the tropics.
"Well, as I was about to say, after her return from Dalmatia, one ofthe first acts of the princess was to appoint a new uniform for herbody-guard. Accordingly sketches of the various costumes worn in thedifferent European armies were laid before her. You, my dear Paul,ought to feel honored by her selection."
"Why so?"
"Because the uniform she chose is one so like your own that for mypart I fail to detect the difference. As you walk through the streetsof Slavowitz you will certainly be taken for one of her _corps dugarde_, known as the Blue Legion."
A strange suspicion entered Paul's mind.
"How old is the Princess Natalie?"
"She celebrated her nineteenth birthday last week."
"Barbara, if she were living, would be twenty-one by this time,"murmured Paul to himself; and then aloud he added: "And you say thatthe princess is very beautiful?"
"Be thyself the judge," smiled Trevisa. "Within a quarter of an hourfrom now she will pass along this boulevard on her way to the MazeppaGardens. From the balcony here you will have a good view of her."
"Haven't you her portrait upon you?"
"At present I have with me no other likeness than this."
And here Trevisa drew forth a gold-piece, bright as if fresh from themint.
"The new coinage, issued this week. Reverse--the double-headed eagle,the ancient arms of Poland. Obverse--the profile of the princess withthe legend '_Natalia, Princeps Czern. Amat. Patr._' 'Natalie, Princessof Czernova, Lover of her Country.' Did the goddess Athene carry amore dainty head than this?"
Paul took the coin, glanced at the obverse, and then sat in a statewavering between belief and unbelief.
Was this golden disc really stamped with the head of Barbara? So itseemed to Paul. At any rate, if her profile had been engraved on metalwith due regard to fidelity, it would have differed little or nothingfrom that on the coin.
Then a new idea seized him, and one more consonant with probability.Was this the profile of the maiden whose portrait he had seen in thecardinal's secret study at Castel Nuovo--the maiden with the laughingeyes, the sceptre and the diadem?
"A graceful head, a very graceful head," he remarked, returning thecoin. "I should like to hear more of the fair lady."
"As many questions as you please."
"First, where did the Princess Natalie pass her childhood and youth?"
"Here in the city of Slavowitz and its vicinity. Of course she has hadher travels like the rest of us, and has visited different Europeancountries, but, speaking generally, she was reared and educated in theVistula Palace, whose towers you can see rising behind yon cathedralspire."
Clearly not Barbara, for Barbara had spent her earlier years atWarsaw, her later in the Illyrian Convent of the Holy Sacrament.
"And what of her visit to Dalmatia?"
"That was undertaken two and a half years ago; at that time she was ina delicate state of health, and the physicians recommended a touraround the Adriatic. She travelled incognito with a slender suiteunder the care of Cardinal Ravenna."
"Who took her, among other places," thought Paul, "to Castel Nuovo, asis proved by the fragment of lace in the secret corridor."
"This tour was productive of singular results," continued Trevisa,musingly.
"In what way?"
"Well, it was to have lasted three months, but it was extended to six;and when the princess returned she was an altered being; I do not meanin appearance, I refer to her character."
Light began to dawn upon Paul. The Princess Natalie had not returnedto Czernova; instead there had come her living image--Barbara!
"What remarkable development had the princess's character undergone?"
"Beforetime she was a gay and vivacious maiden. She returned grave andsedate. This change was attributed to the earthquake."
"The earthquake?"
"Yes. Don't you remember the great upheaval on the Dalmatian littoraltwo years ago?"
"Ah! I remember something of the sort, now I come to think of it."
"Well, the terrible scenes witnessed by Princess Natalie, togetherwith her own nearness to death, seem to have sobered her from girlhoodinto womanhood. From that time she began to take a keen interest instate affairs, which she had previously regarded as boredom."
"Barbara was keenly interested in politics," thought Paul.
"Beforetime her predilections, if she had any, were in favor ofRussia. She returned divested of her Muscovite sympathies."
"Barbara was decidedly an anti-Muscovite," thought Paul.
"But the greatest change--"
"Yes, the greatest change--?" repeated Paul, observing that the otherhad stopped short in his utterance with the air of one about to bebetrayed into an imprudent statement.
As Trevisa did not reply, Paul drew a bow at a venture.
"The princess was reared in the Greek faith, I am given tounderstand? Humph! what was Prince Thaddeus thinking of when he placedhis daughter under the tutelage of Cardinal Ravenna? One can guess theresult. The princess went away a Greek, and came back a Catholic. Isit not so?"
"Hush!" muttered Trevisa, glancing around in some trepidation. "Yes,that is so. You have hit on a state secret, communicated only to hercabinet, and to me--her secretary. But, Paul, breathe not a word ofthis to any one, for the knowledge of it would shake her throne,and--"
He paused. There was a sudden commotion in the street below.Pedestrians had stopped in their walk, and were crowding to the edgeof the pavement with their faces all set in one direction, whence camethe distant sound of cheering and of clapping hands. The applauserolled in _crescendo_ along the boulevards, advancing nearer eachmoment to the two friends.
"Here comes the princess!" cried Trevisa, springing to his feet. Paulfelt his heart beating as it had never beat before when he turned hiseyes towards the approaching cavalcade.
First came a detachment of Polish uhlans, their burnished lancesglittering in the morning sunshine, and the points decorated withblack pennons that fluttered in the breeze.
The handsome regimentals of this _corps du garde_, the Blue Legion,promptly drew from Paul the remark,--
"Why, their uniform is the same as the Twenty-fourth Kentish!"
"A remark previously made by me," observed Trevisa, drily. "You aresingularly forgetful, Paul."
On came the lancers at a swinging trot, followed by an open landaucontaining the princess.
A moment more and this carriage was abreast of the hotel, and as iffortune were favoring Paul, the vehi
cle was brought to a suddenstand-still opposite the balcony on which he stood.
The equipage was a dainty one, lined with pale blue silk, the arms ofPoland gleaming in gold from the polished sable panel. The fine blackhorses, with coats like shining satin, were decked in silver harness.
But Paul saw nothing of this equipage; his eyes were set upon itsoccupant.
There, seated in graceful state, with silken sunshade poised above herhead, and responsive to the plaudits of the people by sweet smiles anda courteous bending of her head, was--the youthful and beautifulBarbara!
The supreme joy of realizing that she was actually living so affectedPaul that for a moment the whole street--Barbara, soldiers, people,buildings--became a confused swimming vision. A sound like the murmurof many waters filled his ears.
With difficulty he controlled his first impulse to descend the hotelsteps, crying "Barbara! Barbara!" It set his teeth on edge afterwardswhen he recalled how near he had come to making a fool of himself. No,his first interview with her must not take place in the open streetbefore a wondering, gaping throng.
Fearing lest she should glance upwards and recognize him, Paul drewaside behind a screen of aloes that decorated the balcony, andcontinued to watch.
Yes, it was truly Barbara. The convent-fugitive who had strolled withhim through the pine-woods of Dalmatia, the Polish maiden whom he hadheld in his arms had become a real princess with a court, ministers,and an army at her command. The wonderment of it all! And though shehad spent nearly a third of her life in a convent, yet there she satwith the air of one born in the purple. It was amazing, nay, charming,to mark the dignity and the ease with which she carried herself in hernew state.
The landau of the princess had been stopped before the Hotel deVarsovie in order to enable her to address two pedestrians, who,judging from the respect paid to them by the crowd, were persons ofdistinction in the little world of Czernova.
The first was an elderly, silver-haired man of fine presence, anddistinguished by a stately, old-fashioned courtesy.
"Count Radzivil," replied Trevisa, in answer to Paul's question. "Theprime minister of Czernova, brother of the celebrated Michael, whocommanded the Polish insurgents of '30."
As the premier was old enough to be Barbara's grandfather, Paul couldafford to view him with composure; but the case was very differentwith the other individual.
He was a man of lofty stature, and of broad, massive build, with adark, handsome face set off with black eyes and a black beard. Thesunbeams toyed with the silver eagle upon his helmet. His splendiduniform glittered with gold lace, stars, and orders. He carriedhimself erect, his left hand resting upon the hilt of his sabre; andit was clear that both in his own opinion, and also in the opinion ofthe crowd, he was a very grand personage indeed.
"Who's His Serene Tallness?"
"John the Strong, Duke of Bora, commander of the Czernovese army, amember of the cabinet, and the heir-apparent to the crown. He is firstcousin to the princess, and likewise a near kinsman of the Czar."
Envy and misgiving stole over Paul as he contrasted his own inferiorrank with that of the imperially-connected Bora. Barbara was bendingforward in her carriage, laughing pleasantly, and apparently holdingan animated conversation with the duke. One might almost have thoughtthat she was exerting all her arts to please him.
Paul surveyed him more attentively, and quickly gauged hischaracter,--an individual naturally sullen, of a somewhat slowintellect, yet not without ambition; a man upon whom the graces andrestraints of polite life lay but lightly; a little provocation, andthe savage would soon be in evidence. What could Barbara find in thisman to interest her?
"Bora seems on excellent terms with the princess," said Paul.
"Naturally, seeing that he is to marry her."
"What?"
Paul's intonation was so sharp that Trevisa turned to survey him.
"Why, Paul, how white you're grown!"
"Merely a pang from an old wound. But your princess; she can'tentertain any real love for _that_ fellow."
"Love was never fashionable at courts," smiled Trevisa. His wordsjarred upon Paul. If Barbara had become such that she could marrywithout any love on her side, then her nature must have sadly changedfrom what it was in the old sweet days at Castel Nuovo.
"It is a _mariage de convenance_," continued Trevisa, "tending tosecure her position on the throne, and--but see, she is about to setoff again."
The princess, having finished her conversation, drew off her rightglove and extended her fair jewelled hand to the duke with a smile andgraciousness of manner that roused all the jealousy in Paul's nature.
"She has forgotten me," he murmured bitterly. "Well, of course, shethinks me dead; but even if she knew otherwise, it is not likely thatshe will pay much regard to me now. And yet what were her words to meon the day that we were parted? 'If I were an empress, Paul, I wouldbe your wife.' Humph! we shall see."
Bora raised the delicate hand to his lips amid the applause of thecrowd, who seemed to regard the incident as a very pretty tableau.
Count Radzivil lifted his hat with courtly grace, and the next momentthe landau was gliding smoothly along the Boulevard de Cracovie,followed by a detachment of cavalry similar in equipments to thatwhich had preceded it.
Paul was left a victim to perplexing thoughts.
What had become of the real Princess Natalie, and why had Barbaraassumed the name, title, and sceptre of the daughter of Thaddeus,personating the character with such art and tact as apparently to defydetection, since Trevisa, though long resident in Czernova, had nosuspicion of the substitution that had taken place?
Had Barbara a just title to the throne? Recalling her air as she satin the landau, Paul felt that he could not associate the appropriationof another's heritage with that winsome and dignified presence. No,difficult though it was to explain her conduct, he would believeanything rather than that she was a conscious and willing usurper.
The Shadow of the Czar Page 6
