The Shadow of the Czar

by John R. Carling

  CHAPTER VI

  KATINA THE PATRIOT

  AS Paul and Trevisa emerged from the woodland and turned upon thehighroad, there drew near a cloaked figure with steel scabbardclinking against spurs.

  "Marshal Zabern!" exclaimed the ex-secretary. "How? Are you notescorting the princess to Slavowitz?"

  "I have a little matter to despatch at the hostelry called 'Sobieski'sRest.' Her Highness has therefore condescended to relieve me fromescort-duty."

  "Your way is our way, for at that inn we left our troika. MarshalZabern," continued Trevisa, presenting Paul, "my friend--need Imention his name?--Captain Paul Woodville."

  "No man whose friendship I desire more," said Zabern, raising hisplumed helmet.

  He had taken a liking for Paul,--the liking of a brave soldier for acompeer.

  "I have always esteemed Englishmen," continued Zabern, "since the dayI ran from them at Waterloo."

  "You have fought under the great Napoleon, then?" said Paul.

  "For a brief space. As a lad of eighteen I took part in the Moscowcampaign. When Napoleon sounded the tocsin of war against Russia, whojoined him with more enthusiasm than the Poles, eager to avenge theircountry's wrongs? Did not his emissary, the Abbe de Pradt, promise atWarsaw that his imperial master had determined to expel the Muscovitesfrom Europe, and to replace them with Poles? Trusting to these words,sixty thousand of us marched with the Grand Army upon Moscow. Heavens!shall I ever forget the fierce thrill of joy that pervaded our ranksas we drew rein and gazed upon the golden spires and domes of the cityof the Great Enemy, flashing on the far-off horizon. Yes," continuedZabern, his eye kindling at the recollection, "yes, we took their holycity, so-called, and planted the Polish eagles upon the ramparts ofthe Kremlin, as our fathers had done before us in the glorious days ofold."

  "And it has been the dream of the marshal's life," smiled Trevisa, "torenew that experience."

  "That experience, but not _this_!"

  And here the speaker pushed back the sleeve of his right arm, and Paulperceived what he had not noticed before, namely, that Zabern wasminus a hand.

  "You know the sequel," continued the marshal. "We were compelled toretire, defeated not by superiority in valor, but by famine and therigor of a Russian winter. And, my God! what a winter that was!"continued Zabern, shivering as if he still felt the effects of thecold. "The frost was so intense that it penetrated flesh, sinew, andbone, rendering the limbs as white and brittle as alabaster. Inrepelling an attack of Cossacks I aimed a sabre-stroke at a fellow'shead, feeling in the next moment a curious sensation at the wrist; andthere, lying before me upon the snow, and still grasping thesabre-hilt, was my own hand. It had dropped off at the joint, as yousee."

  "Good God!" cried Trevisa.

  "Eh? well, yes, it was rather awkward, for it was the right hand, yousee, and never having accustomed myself to employ the left I wasrendered completely useless for the rest of the campaign. However, Ihave repaired the deficiency, and here is a hand as good as the lostone," continued Zabern, holding up his left hand. "So ended my firstexperience with the Russians."

  "You fought them again?" inquired Paul.

  "At many times and in many places. I have aided Georgians in theCaucasus, and Turks on the Danube. And when secret tidings came to methat Poland was preparing to vindicate its freedom against the tyrannyof the viceroy Constantine, brother of the present Czar, I hastened totake part in the enterprise. Her Highness's father, Prince Thaddeus,would not permit Czernova to be drawn into the movement; selfishly, aswe then thought; wisely, as we now perceive.

  "The rising began at Warsaw in a conspiracy to seize the person of theGrand Duke Constantine. I was one of the eighteen appointed for thepurpose. At nightfall we set off for the palace, slew the guards, andpenetrated to the vice-regal bedchamber. But we were just a fewseconds too late. Roused from sleep by the clash of arms, and theshouting, Constantine had sprung from the bed, thrown a cloak overhimself, and fled by a secret staircase communicating with the palacegardens."

  "The insurrection failed?"

  "For a year we offered a gallant resistance to all the might ofRussia. But what can valor effect against numbers? We gainedvictories, and those great ones; but if we slew ten thousand of theenemy on one day, there was a second ten thousand to replace them onthe morrow. We had no such reserves to fall back upon. And then, too,the damned Russians brought the cholera with them, an ally that provedfar more fatal than their arms; though, the saints be praised! itcarried off the tyrant Constantine. On the taking of Warsaw I becameone of a band of prisoners condemned to march in chains four thousandmiles over the winter snow to Siberia."

  "And you escaped?"

  "After five years, and have found asylum in Czernova. And here I amto-day, fifty-three years of age, and good for a deal more mischiefyet," continued Zabern with a grim twinkle in his eye. "To see meholding the post of minister is gall and wormwood to the Russians;they have required my extradition, but the princess has resolutelyrefused to grant it."

  Such in brief was the history of Zabern, and though his attempts towin freedom for his country were deserving of sympathy, Paul could notavoid a feeling of regret that Barbara should have admitted to herministry such a firebrand as this patriot, whose undoubted aim was toutilize the resources of Czernova against Russia, should a favorableopportunity occur.

  "By the way, Trevisa," said the marshal, turning to the ex-secretary,"you must not let the princess's frown diminish your interest in thecipher letter found upon the spy Russakoff. Read me that riddle, and Iwill undertake to restore you to favor."

  "I fear my restoration will not come upon those terms," said Trevisa,lugubriously. "The cipher is a most baffling one. I should have a clueif you could name the writer."

  "How so?"

  "The first step in a problem of this sort is to know in what languagethe document is written; and of this I am ignorant. How, then, can Iproceed? The principles of decipherment which an expert applies to onelanguage fail when applied to another. But if I learn who the authoris, and I discover that he knows, say, Russian only, the inference isthat the document is written in that language; I apply certainprinciples deduced from a study of Russian, and the result isdecipherment. The knowledge that the writer is versed in severallanguages would, of course, enhance the difficulty; but still, withtime and patience success is certain. Have you no clue as to thewriter?"

  Zabern was silent. He glanced at Paul as if wishing him away.

  "I will step aside for a moment," said Paul.

  "Not so," replied Trevisa. "Marshal, you can trust my friend CaptainWoodville as surely as myself."

  "Then on my honor as a soldier I believe that the Duke of Bora waseither the author or the recipient of that letter."

  "The duke!" cried Trevisa in amazement. "You accuse the duke ofholding a treasonable correspondence with Russia? Impossible!"

  "Why impossible?"

  "Is it reasonable that he should seek to subvert the throne of aprincess to whom he is affianced?"

  Zabern smiled cynically.

  "The duke has come to count it no great prize to have but a moiety ofthe throne, and to be mated withal to a little lady who will take nobidding from him, and therein small blame to her. The princess hathever been cold to the match, and therefore the duke, doubtful of heraffection, has begun to play a double part, or in other words, tointrigue with Russia. 'Dispense with the princess, and reign aloneunder the suzerainty of the Czar'--that is his secret ambition. Whatother conclusion can I come to, when I see him tampering with theCzernovese army? On frivolous pretexts he has removed Polish officersfrom their command, replacing them by such Muscovites as have at heartthe interests of the Czar rather than those of the princess. Moreover,we have certain proof that our cabinet contains a member who revealsto Russia our secret counsels. You know the cabinet well, Trevisa;tell me whom to suspect. Radzivil?--absurd! Ravenna? What hath a Romancardinal to gain by inviting the head of the Greek Church to takepossession of Czernova? Dorislas? Then
let me fall on my sword'spoint, so certain am I of never again finding faith among men, if hebe traitor. Mosco, the Greek Arch-pastor? Hum! his zeal on behalf ofthe princess has perhaps diminished somewhat since her conversion toCatholicism, but he is more dullard than villain. Polonaski theJusticiary? I'll mention no more. When we would discover the author ofa crime, we naturally fix our suspicions upon the man who has most togain by the deed. Judged by this test the duke, and the duke alone, isthe traitor. _Delendus est Bora!_ Czernova will never be sound till hebe gone."

  There was no reply from Trevisa, who seemed to be lost in deepthought. Then suddenly his eyes lightened as with some new andsurprising idea.

  "Marshal," said he emphatically, "you shall have a translation of thatletter in the morning."

  It took a good deal to surprise the marshal; nevertheless on thepresent occasion he was quite confounded.

  "How? What?" he cried. "You claim to have discovered the key to thecipher, when but a minute ago you professed ignorance of the verylanguage in which the letter is written?"

  "The language is Greek," murmured Trevisa, almost breathless at hisdiscovery, and talking more to himself than to his companions. "Yes,yes; I comprehend it all now. The most ingenious cipher ever devised.Nothing but an accident could have revealed the key. You are quitecorrect, marshal, in your estimate of the duke's character. He is atraitor, and that letter will prove it. I will work at it to-night,and to-morrow morning you shall have the result."

  "Good!" replied Zabern, mystified, as was Paul likewise, by thesuddenness with which Trevisa had arrived at the solution of a problemthat during the past month had baffled his wit.

  The shades of twilight were falling as the trio drew near to"Sobieski's Rest," an inn so called because the greatest of thePolish kings had once passed a night there. It was a spacious andpicturesque hostelry, composed of a mixture of stone and timber, andshaded by overhanging birch-trees.

  Outside the building, and holding two horses by the bridle, stood thetrooper Nikita, Zabern's orderly, who had been sent on ahead to awaitthe arrival of the marshal.

  Bidding him remain at the entrance, Zabern passed within, and led thetwo Englishmen to a private apartment wainscotted with oak anddecorated with elk-antlers.

  "Poland has never been lacking in female beauty," remarked the marshalto Paul, "and I am about to present you to her fairest daughter afterthe princess. This inn is kept by a friend of mine,--an oldcompanion-in-arms,--Boris Ludovski by name, once a wealthy noble ofWarsaw. His zeal in the cause of Polish liberty has reduced him to theposition of inn-keeper. Freedom often treats her children hardly. Asthis is a frontier-inn, and on the main road to Warsaw, it oftenhappens that suspicious characters call here for a drink, and Boris'spretty daughter, Katina, being a maiden who keeps her eyes open, issometimes enabled to supply the police of Slavowitz with valuableinformation. Hence my reason for coming here at this present moment,for it is just possible that she can tell me something of the spyRussakoff who escaped from the Citadel to-day. Ah! here is Katinaherself."

  The person who had entered was a typical Polish belle with fine darkhair and flashing eyes. Trevisa whispered to Paul that she was adescendant of Mazeppa, the famous hetman of the Ukraine; and certainlythere was that in her elastic step, her fearless glance, her whole airthat marked Katina Ludovska as a true daughter of the steppes, wildand untamable.

  She was handsomely attired. Over a snow-white chemisette she wore aclose-fitting dark red jacket, laced in front from neckband to waist;a polished black leather belt gleaming with silver bosses; and a darkblue skirt, prettily braided with silver,--a skirt which, swelling outbelow the waist, imparted a charming outline to her figure. A pair ofred leather shoes completed her outward costume.

  The marshal saluted her in Polish fashion by kissing her hand, whileshe in turn pressed her lips to his forehead. She gave the likegreeting to Trevisa, who appeared to be well known to her, and thisdone she cast a glance of inquiry at the third comer.

  "Paul?" she said with a pretty pout, after the marshal had introducedhim, "why do you bear the same name as a Czar?"

  "There is little of the Czar in him, however," remarked Zabern. "Why,Katina, Captain Woodville has fought against Russians in Asia."

  "May he live to fight against them in Europe," said Katina; and Paulcould see that she was a maiden quivering with patriotism to herfinger-tips.

  "Amen to that!" replied Zabern; and in an exultant tone he continued,"but I have tidings for you, Katina, tidings. The princess and theduke are riven asunder. She has plucked him from the cabinet, from thecommand of the army, and better still from her heart. Never shall Boraput wedding-crown upon the brow of the princess. He is of less accountnow in her eyes than the driven leaf in the wind-swept wood."

  Katina expressed her delight by dancing the first steps of a gracefulmazurka.

  "Joy!" she cried. "I never liked that our fair princess should bide onbolster with a Russ, and a Russ who hath sworn at the drink to harnessthe Polish nobles to the yoke and with them plough his fields. And soJohn the Strong has fallen! How came it to pass?"

  The marshal explained; and when Katina learned that Paul had been thedirect cause of the duke's downfall she no longer withheld the kiss offriendship.

  "You have wrought a good deed for Czernova, and I love you for it,"she cried impulsively, pressing her lips to his forehead, not once,but twice. And though Katina was not the princess, Paul was fain toconfess that she made a charming substitute.

  "Shades of Kosciusko! what have we here?" cried Zabern, walkingtowards a smoke-begrimed oil-painting that hung upon one of the walls."Fie, Katina! you, a daughter of Poland, to keep a portrait of theCzar--that Czar too who crushed us at Warsaw sixteen years ago, thehaughty, frowning Nicholas!"

  "Ah! you Muscovite wolf!" cried Katina, shaking her fist at thepicture. "Lying Czar, that broke his coronation-oath to Poland. Whereis the constitution you promised us? Grandson of an empress who wasa--a--"

  Katina suppressed the word that rose to her lips, for it was not apretty epithet, though justly applicable to the moral character ofCatherine II.

  "Hold! let the grandmother be!" interposed Zabern. "Remember thatCatherine gave to Czernova its Charter of liberty."

  "I warrant the old beldam was drunk when she granted it."

  "No matter, drunk or sober, it _was_ granted. And to-day we have thatCharter, signed and sealed, locked in an iron chest, secured in astone chamber, and guarded by soldiers night and day."

  "And to think," said Katina, still on the subject of the portrait, andturning to the two Englishmen as she spoke, "to think that your sweet,youthful queen Victoria should allow herself to be embraced and kissedby this Muscovite bear when he parted from her at Windsor!"

  "It wouldn't do to attempt the same with our princess,--eh, Katina?"

  "No. Mild and gracious as she naturally is, I warrant she would flasha dagger before his eyes."

  "Since you hate the original so," asked Paul, "why display hisportrait?"

  "To draw Russian customers, who like to have the face of their littlefather looking down upon them at the drink. Why should I not levytribute from the enemy? Their kopeks all go to the good cause. Thelast visitors to this room were Muscovites; hence that side of thecanvas. When Polish patriots come I have a fairer face to show.Behold!"

  She turned the picture, and lo! on the back of the canvas was awell-executed portrait of the regnant Princess of Czernova.

  "My pretty Janus!" laughed Zabern. "You should have been born a man.What a statesman you would have made! Come, I know your love for theprincess. I'll reveal a truth that will make you love her still more.You have always believed her to be of the Greek Church; learn, now,that she is a Catholic."

  "Are you not betraying a state secret?" smiled Trevisa.

  "No; for the truth is known to all Czernova, or will be in a fewhours. That damnable Russophile journal, the 'Kolokol,' came out thisafternoon with a long article headed, 'Natalie the Apostate'--anarticle roundly accusing t
he princess of Catholicism. Of course thecharge is true, and we can't deny it."

  "Pity that the truth should first be proclaimed in the columns of aslanderous journal rather than by the princess's ministers from theirplaces in the Diet! How did editor Lipski discover the secret?" askedTrevisa.

  "How? Ask the duke," replied Zabern.

  "There will be deep murmurings to-night in the Muscovite faubourg."

  "Which can soon be quelled by a few rounds of grape-shot," commentedZabern, who, like the first Napoleon, was a great believer in thepacificatory virtues of artillery.

  "'The princess and Catholicism!'" cried Katina. "Let that be ourmotto. What matters the defection of the Muscovites, since the Poleswill now be doubly loyal."

  "Well said, Katina. Pass me the vodka. To the resurrection of Poland!"continued Zabern, raising his glass. "Ah! Katina, when your fatherBoris and myself first drew breath, we had a motherland. Stanislauswas reigning, and Poland was free. To-day what is she?"

  "A lioness in chains of whom the keeper is afraid. One day the lionesswill break from her chains, and then woe betide the keeper!"

  "You wonder, perhaps, at Katina's patriotism?" whispered Zabern toPaul. "You shall see that she hath good cause for it." And then aloudhe added: "What said Czar Nicholas after suppressing the rising of1830? 'Russia hath a mission to fulfil.' Katina, let the twoEnglishmen see how holy Russia fulfils her mission. Give them visibleproof. You know what I mean."

  Paul, entirely ignorant of Zabern's object, wondered why Katina shouldstart, and why she should cast a glance of anguish at the speaker.

  "Do you seek to humiliate me, marshal?"

  "No, I seek to gain another sword for Poland," said Zabern gravely,with a significant glance at Paul.

  The ordinary woman might very well have hesitated to comply with themarshal's request; but Katina was no ordinary woman. She walked a fewpaces off, placed the lamp upon the table in a suitable position, andthen turning her back upon her visitors she began to unlace herjacket, and to loosen and cast back the white linen beneath. Astartling act, truly, and yet performed with a modest air.

  Holding the last vesture in position by its neckband, she said in abitter tone: "The ignorant have sometimes complimented me upon mybeautiful figure. See with what justice!"

  The vesture dropped from her hand, and hung downward from her belt,leaving her form bared to the waist.

  The fall of that linen was a revelation!

  A sculptor would have been charmed with the fair rounded throat andwhite neck. But the torso below! It was no wonder that Katina madehaste to hide it from view again.

  "Her bosom is the same," whispered Zabern, "or rather it is destroyed.The long lash of the knout coils completely round its victim, youknow."

  "The knout!" cried Paul, thrilling with horror at the thought thatsuch a dreadful instrument should have been applied to the delicateskin of a youthful maiden.

  If it had been Zabern's object to win Paul over to the Polish cause hehad succeeded. The most eloquent oration against Russian despotismcould not have wrought such effect upon him as the bared back of thissilent maiden.

  "As there is a God in heaven, the nation that does such things mustperish. What had she done to be treated thus?"

  While Katina was silently replacing her garments the marshal proceededto whisper her story.

  "Katina's parents, who lived at Warsaw, gave shelter to a Polishpatriot, and for this offence the whole Ludovski family were banishedto the Uralian mines.

  "Here Katina's beauty attracted the desires of the governor, FeodorOrloff; and, sending for her he offered to restore her family toliberty, upon what conditions you can guess, when I tell you thatKatina's reply was a fierce blow from her open palm.

  "The morrow happened to be the emperor's birthday, and Orloff withfiendish malice aforethought had the Polish exiles paraded beforehim, told them that they would be free from work that day, and inreturn for this boon required that they should cry 'God save theCzar,' Some refused, and among them the spirited Katina. Here wasOrloff's opportunity. For disloyalty to the emperor, Katina wascondemned to receive fifteen strokes of the knout.

  "Have you ever seen a knouting? No? Well, I trust you never will, forit is not a pleasant sight, even though your nerves be of iron. I havebeen compelled to witness many such scourgings in Siberia, and I tellyou that though Dante in his 'Inferno' has imagined many and varioustortures for the damned, none of them are equal to the agony that anexpert executioner can elicit with a few strokes of the knout.

  "You must know that the victim, his wrist and ankles clasped by ironrings, is fixed to a sort of framework set erect in the ground--fixedin such a manner that he can make no movement, literally stretched asan eel's skin is stretched to dry.

  "About twenty paces off stands the executioner, with sleeves tuckedup, for nothing must embarrass the freedom of his movements. He holdsin both hands the instrument of punishment--the knout. This is a thongof thick leather, cut triangularly, an inch in breadth, from nine totwelve feet long, and tapering to a point; this tapering end is fixedto a little wooden shaft about two feet in length.

  "At the given signal the executioner advances, his body bent, anddragging the long lash between his legs. When he has arrived withinthree or four paces of his victim, he suddenly raises the knout abovehis head: the thong flies into the air, whistles, descends and claspsthe naked torso of the sufferer as with a circle of iron.Notwithstanding his state of tension the victim bounds as if under apowerful shock of galvanism, at the same time uttering a shriek that,once heard, can never be forgotten. My God! Even now I often startfrom sleep with such a cry ringing in my ears.

  "In drawing back the lash again the executioner has a way of pullingit along the edges of the opened flesh in such a manner as to widenand deepen the wound it has made.

  "He retraces his steps and begins again the same manoeuvre as manytimes as the victim is condemned to suffer blows. When the thongenvelops the body with its folds the flesh and the muscles areliterally cut into segments, as with a razor. The victim, crimson withblood, foams at the mouth and writhes in fearful agonies.

  "And so our pretty Katina, nude to the waist--but enough; you haveimagination, you can picture the scene."

  Katina herself with saddened air had now drawn near again, in her darkeyes a fire that spoke of a desire for vengeance.

  "Katina," said Paul, impulsively, "if this Feodor Orloff be stillliving tell me where he may be found; I will seek him out, challenge,and slay him."

  "No, brave Englishman, no. That vengeance belongs to me. No one mustrob me of my due. And," she added with clenched hand and stern look,"the day is coming. Fate is drawing Count Orloff near to Czernova."

  "True!" replied Zabern. "He has lately been appointed governor-generalof Warsaw, a province bordering on our own."

  "And his appointment bodes no good to Czernova," remarked Katina."Marshal, I have a strange tale for your ears,--a tale I have beenwaiting the opportunity to relate. What will you say when I tell youthat I have this very day seen the executioner who knouted me,--theminion of Orloff?"

  "You are dreaming, Katina."

  "No, marshal, no. It is difficult, I am aware, for the knouted personto see his executioner, but nevertheless I contrived to see the faceof mine, and what is more I have seen it again to-day--thisafternoon--in the room where we now are. I could not mistake thosefurtive reddish eyes, that horse-shoe mark on the cheek--"

  "Heavens! Katina, what are you saying?" interrupted Zabern, with moreexcitement than he usually displayed. "That a man with a horse-shoemark on his cheek has been here this afternoon? Had the fellow a bluecaftan, a red beard, a trick of gnawing his finger-nails--?"

  "You describe the very man, marshal."

  "Russakoff, as I live! Your old executioner and my spy one and thesame person! Can it be?--And he was here this afternoon? At what hourdid he call?"

  "About four o'clock."

  "That would be five hours ago," observed Zabern, referring to hiswatc
h. "He must have made his way here directly after escaping fromthe Citadel, bent on crossing the frontier, doubtless. Let me haveyour story, Katina. Would that you had told it me earlier!"

  "This afternoon," Katina began, "I was returning from a walk, and onentering the inn met my sister, Juliska, carrying a tray with twoglasses. 'Katina,' she said, 'we have two very suspicious-lookingvisitors. They have asked for a private apartment and some vodka.Carry this in, and tell me what you think of them.' I took the trayfrom her hand and walked into this room.

  "Two men were sitting here. One had his back to me; facing him was theother whom I recognized in a moment as the man who had knouted me atOrenburg. Why I did not drop the tray in surprise, how I contrived tocheck my cry, I do not know; I somehow succeeded in repressing myemotion."

  "Did not the villain himself recognize you?"

  "He did not look at me when I entered; his attention seemed whollyabsorbed by the words of his companion. While placing the vodka on thetable I kept my head averted from my old enemy, and took a glance atthe other man, but I failed to see his face clearly, for his hat waspulled low over his brows, and the collar of his cloak was drawn upalmost to his mouth. It was this peculiarity that had excitedJuliska's suspicions. The brief glance I had of him disposes me to thebelief that he was a man far higher in the social scale than theother."

  "'Happy shall he be that rewardeth thee as thou hast served us,'"murmured Zabern. "Why did you not call upon your father and brothersto seize the knouter, and give him a taste of what he had made yousuffer?"

  "That idea, marshal, was running through my head. After placing thevodka upon the table I withdrew silently and quickly; and while in theact of closing the door I caught a remark uttered by the man who hadknouted me."

  "Call him Russakoff; 't will be simpler," suggested Zabern.

  "Russakoff, then--to please you. 'You will not persuade me to returnto Slavowitz,' he was saying. 'I have no wish to fall into Zabern'shands again.' My excitement increased, marshal, at this mention ofyour name. I resolved to try to learn something of their businessbefore giving orders for their seizure; and, accordingly, since theywere seated by the open window, beneath which is an immense leafylaurel, I stole outside and put myself in concealment there in thehope of overhearing their words.

  "They conversed in low tones, but now and again, when their voiceswere raised in evident anger, I caught a few remarks.

  "'I wonder that Orloff should employ a fool like you,' saidRussakoff's companion; 'one unable to keep from the vodka, who takespart in a tavern brawl, and gets himself arrested while carrying animportant political document! If that letter should be deciphered bythe princess's secretary, it will lead to the frustration of a schemeby which the Czar hopes to gain possession of Czernova, legally andquietly, without the employment of military force.'"

  "What?" cried Zabern. "Let me hear that again, Katina."

  Katina repeated her words.

  "Russia to obtain Czernova legally, without employing force! In thedevil's name--how?"

  Beneath their overhanging brows Zabern's gray eyes gleamed likepolished cannon deep-set within embrasures.

  Paul was equally startled by Katina's words. Was it possible that theRussian bureaucrats had discovered that the regnant princess was notthe real Natalie Lilieska? If they could prove that she had no titleto rule, the throne would devolve upon the Duke of Bora, who might ofhis own free will resign his rights to the Czar Nicholas as the nextin succession.

  Was this what Russakoff's companion meant when he spoke of a quiet andlegal way of obtaining possession of Czernova?

  Fear seized Paul as he began to realize that the same result could beattained by assassination. Over the body of Barbara, slain by thedagger of some Muscovite fanatic, the Czar might step to the throne ofCzernova! Did the cipher-despatch relate to some such terrible plot?

  "Proceed, Katina. Heard you aught else?"

  "After some more whispering Russakoff raised his voice. 'No; it's arisky business. Besides, what are four hundred roubles?'--'We willdouble the sum if the work be done within twelve hours,' replied theother.

  "It was quite clear to me that some mischief was afoot, and, thoughdesirous of learning more, I feared that if I waited longer they mightrise and depart before I should be able to have them seized. I stoleoff, summoned my two brothers, but, on entering the room--"

  "Fire and brimstone! the birds had flown."

  "You are not more vexed than I was, marshal."

  "Were their glasses empty?"

  "No; full."

  "Ah! they had caught sight of you in hiding. A pity you delayed theseizure! You gave chase, I presume?"

  "Marshal, we--my father, brothers, Juliska, the servants, myself--ranhere and there; we looked in all directions, but failed to discover atrace of them. My father deeming the matter of great importance,immediately sent Juliska to Slavowitz to apprise you of it; butevidently you have not seen her."

  "I must have left Slavowitz before she arrived. Katina, you have oncemore proved yourself a valuable auxiliary to the princess'sgovernment. So this spy is employed by one Orloff; and since he wascertainly at one time in the service of Count Feodor Orloff, andinasmuch as he comes from Warsaw, and is evidently the agent of onehigh in authority there, we doubtless do the new governor-general nowrong in crediting him with a plot to overturn the independence ofCzernova. If so, there will be a double pleasure in defeating him--eh,Katina? It will please him to learn that it was Ludovski's daughterthat foiled his schemes, for I will take care that he shall learn it.My suspicions have become certainties. The duke and Orloff are leaguedtogether for the hurt of the princess, and Russakoff is theirintermediary. What is the 'risky business' that Russakoff deemsill-paid by a sum of four hundred roubles, sum to be doubled if thework be done within twelve hours? You are certain those were thewords, Katina?"

  "Quite certain, marshal."

  "And the other man--who is he, I wonder?--was trying to persuadeRussakoff to return to the city? Has he returned? If so, my spiesshall find him ere the night be past. Trevisa," he continued, turningto the ex-secretary, "you see now the importance of that secretdespatch, the necessity for its immediate decipherment. No more delaythen. To Slavowitz," cried Zabern, rising abruptly.

  Katina instantly flew off to summon the driver of the troika in whichPaul and Trevisa had made their journey from Slavowitz. The three menproceeded to the entrance of the inn where they found the trooperNikita, still holding the two horses, and seeming as if he had notmoved an inch from his previous position. Night had fallen, and thestars were twinkling in a dark sky. The bright light from the inn-doorstreamed pleasantly across the road to the trees on the opposite side.

  "Pardon my haste, gentlemen," observed Zabern, "but I should do wrongto tarry longer, when there may be rioting in the capital. Theprincess's conversion to Romanism and the arrest of the Duke of Boraare matters sufficient to set the Muscovite mind ablaze. I'll ride onahead; do you follow with all speed."

  Katina reappeared at this moment, and the marshal gallantly kissed herhand at parting. The glad light that came into her eyes told Paul asecret.

  "As I live," he murmured to himself, "our pretty Katina loves Zabern."

  The marshal swung himself into the saddle, and the next moment withhis steel scabbard swinging beneath his cloak, he was gallopingtowards Slavowitz, accompanied by his faithful orderly Nikita.

  A minute afterwards the three-horsed car appeared at the inn-door incharge of its istvostchik or driver.

  "The troika is ready, my little fathers," he cried.

  The two friends took their places in the vehicle, and scarcely hadthey done so, when there passed into the glow of light, and out againimmediately, a man whose tall cylindrical hat and black cassockproclaimed him to be a papa or priest of the Oriental Church.

  On perceiving this ecclesiastic the istvostchik made the sign of thecross in Greek fashion, at the same time quitting the troika andsaying as he did so: "Pardon me, little fathers, but I dare not driv
eyou to-night."

  "What does he mean?" Paul in wonderment asked of Katina.

  "The poor fellow is a Muscovite," she explained with a pitying smile,"and Muscovites deem it a bad omen to meet a priest of their own faithwhen setting out upon a journey."

  Katina had spoken truly. All the inducements and bribes on the part ofthe two friends failed to shake the resolution of the old istvostchik.

  "The Muscovites have a curious way of honoring their priesthood,"smiled Paul.

  "I have a troika," said Katina, "and since I have promised to fetch mysister Juliska home from Slavowitz to-night, why should you notaccompany me thither?"

  Paul and Trevisa saw no reason, whatever, why they should not acceptthe services of so fair a charioteer. Katina accordingly gave an orderto one of the inn-servants, and then disappeared within the hostelry.She returned almost immediately, looking charming in a handsome mantletrimmed with fur. At the same moment there was brought round from therear of the premises a second troika, which was certainly a much finervehicle than the first. It was lined with red leather, and drawn bythree spirited ponies.

  "Here are steeds worthy of Mazeppa himself," said Katina, offeringeach a sweetmeat. "The Ukraine hath not their like."

  She laid her cheek against the manes of all three in turn. The poniestossed their heads and pawed the ground, evidently as proud of theiryoung mistress as she was of them.

  "This is Natalie, and that Stephanie," she continued indicating thetwo harnessed within the duga or wooden arch. "They are named afterthe princess and her mother."

  "And the third?" inquired Paul.

  "Oh! she is for show, and not for use; she prances merely withoutdrawing, and so, being useless, my sister has, of course, called herKatina. Now if your excellencies are ready."

  Paul and Trevisa seated themselves in the vehicle and since eachdeclared that he must have Katina beside him, that maiden waslaughingly compelled to take her place between them.

  "Do not travel to-night, my little masters," said the istvostchik ashe watched these preparations. "Ill-fortune will attend you."

  Katina gave the reins a scornful shake.

  Trevisa laughed pleasantly.

  Paul looked grave; to his mind there was something strangelyimpressive in the quiet dignity of this old man as he stood on thesteps of the inn-door, his cap doffed and his eyes raised to thestar-lit sky.