"Why not? She is a woman after my own heart."
"I am not sending you to her to be her servant, but to be her friend."
"Oh, we shall soon be very friendly!"
"She feels lonely; and you will know how to amuse her."
"I will divine her thoughts."
"If she takes a fancy to you, you will be happy with her. She will give you smart clothes, trinkets, and riding-horses."
"And a whip to scourge the slaves with."
"And if you get on well, and become a _young lady_, Daimona will find you a husband."
At these words the girl"s face darkened. Shaking her head energetically, till the dishevelled hair fell over it again, she struck her thigh vehemently as she exclaimed, with a stamp of her foot:
"Then I will not go!"
A malicious smile curled Araktseieff"s lips. Then he continued, in a paternal tone:
"I understand. You have a lover here among the gypsies."
"A "brother"!" exclaimed the girl.
"Oh, a "brother"! Gypsies are prudish; they only have "brothers." And suppose I were to send your brother, too, to Daimona"s castle? He might make a good overseer of slaves."
"Would that be possible?" cried Diabolka, joyously.
"It shall be done. I will send you together to Daimona, and you shall become her confidential people."
Diabolka fell at the feet of the dreaded President and kissed them, while Araktseieff, with Christian mildness, stroked the gypsy"s unkempt hair. And at the moment of this scene of foot-kissing and hair-stroking the hearts of both were filled with thoughts of direst vengeance. In the inexperienced girl"s soul a scheme of as wide-spreading a nature was developing against Araktseieff as he was evolving to the torture of the girl, while she was as deft at lying, dissembling, and hiding her feelings as was the statesman. It is the advantage alike of savages and diplomats.
Which would triumph?
Diabolka and her "brother" set off that very day for Araktseieff"s estates, where Daimona was already expecting them.
CHAPTER XVI
SOPHIE
Araktseieff"s chief care now was to divert the Czar from the influence of his, Araktseieff"s, enemies. And the best means to that end was a visit to the military colonies. This atrocious idea had originated in Araktseieff"s brain; he was the creator of the military colonies. Half a million soldiers, who had gone through every European war, were to be rewarded for their services by being planted as colonists, regiment by regiment, throughout the length and breadth of the empire. The peasants were to teach them to plough and sow seed, while they in turn were to instruct the peasants in drill and the use of firearms. A marvellous conception--on paper! Thus in time the state would acquire three millions of well-drilled soldiers at no cost. The scythe would pay the piper.
But one important factor in the project had been left out of his calculations by its author. The peasant did not take kindly to drill, nor did the soldier to the scythe.
The Czar took the military colony of Novgorod for his first inspection; Araktseieff was in his retinue. They returned unexpectedly; a fact mentioned in the newspapers, as showing with what marvellous rapidity the Czar travelled. He had actually accomplished the journey to the Ural Mountains in four weeks; it was a peculiarity of his to gallop night and day. Then they went on to describe the magnificent reception the imperial cortege had met with in every town of the colony, which had sprung up with magic quickness. They dilated on the triumphal arches, deputations, the gifts offered them by the people, by which they endeavored to express their unbounded loyalty to the Czar. The great military parades which had been held were also graphically described; and no one for a moment suspected but that all these things had duly taken place.
On his return from the inspection, Araktseieff went on an official mission to Warsaw. This, too, was duly announced by the newspapers, without comment of any kind or description.
With the month of June springtide returned to St. Petersburg. Sophie Narishkin"s room was a ma.s.s of lilies-of-the-valley, her favorite flower. Every vase, every available s.p.a.ce was filled with them. With the more favorable season her health seemed to be re-established. She could now walk across the room without support, and began to think more about food than medicines. She even began to speculate on being taken to court b.a.l.l.s in the winter. One of her aunts was to chaperon her in society; perhaps she might even be allowed to dance a minuet. She was constantly sending for Bethsaba to hear what a court ball was like. The king"s daughter had already attended one.
One day, after the Czar"s return from the inspection, Bethsaba came to see Sophie.
"Oh, your room is quite full of lilies-of-the-valley! Who sent them to you?"
"Who else than father?"
Sophie had no secrets from Bethsaba. She openly called the Czar "father"
to her.
"Has he been here?"
"Yes; all last evening. It was a very sad one. I begin to feel quite afraid of him."
"Did you do anything to vex him?"
"Oh no! It is his great love for me which makes me begin to feel frightened of him. When he stands so long, looking silently at me, my hands in his, I feel as if I cannot endure the silence; then I ask him, "What is it, father? What is grieving you?" And he answers, "My grief is that I have no one to whom I can tell my troubles." "Can so great a man as you have any trouble for which there is no help?" Then, pointing to his heart, he said, "Here is the trouble!" Upon which I coaxed him, and begged him to tell me all his trouble. Who could tell--perhaps even my childish simplicity might find a way to heal or lessen his sorrows? Then he drew me again to his heart, laid my head on his shoulder, and said, "I am ill, Sophie; and there is no physician in the wide world to whom I can tell my ailment. There is something weighing on my heart, and there is no confessor to whom I can confess it. By night my dreams make me tremble; by day, my thoughts. I dread solitude, and I dread mankind. I know that no one loves me; I know that I am condemned." "By whom?" "By G.o.d and man. Every one flatters me; only that which beats within me tells me the truth and accuses me." "And does not this, too, that beats within me tell the truth?" I cried; "and does it not live, love, and worship you? Let those two hearts of ours fight it out together!" Then he embraced me, and whispered, "Be it so. There is no one on whom I have wrought such ill as you. Why should I not confess to you? You are my martyr; if you can give me absolution, I am indeed absolved." And kneeling before me, he said, oh! such sorrowful words, "Look! I ascended the throne over my father"s body. _I accepted the crown at the hands of his murderers_, and placed it upon my head. I wept no tears when I heard of his death; I felt relieved. I had no longer to dread his wrath, for he had parted from me in anger. On how many a battle-field have I since sought expiation! It was not for me. It was written upon my brow that the bullets that whizzed about me should not strike me; it was spoken of me that my punishment should be as my sin. As a son, my heart was cold as stone to my father. How was I to suffer in my children? I have borne them all to the grave. You are my last and only one! I am ground down to the earth under the iron hand of Fate when I think of you, when I look into your dear face. Are you, too, to be condemned for my great sin?" I tried to console him. "I want for nothing, father dear," I said; "I am happy, quite happy, and mean to grow strong, and love you ever so long."
And we both burst into tears. "It is not for myself I tremble," he whispered. "I see the sword hanging over me. I hear, in the watches of the night, how the knife is being sharpened against the corner-stone of my palace. I am ready. _Through blood I ascended the throne; in blood I must descend it._ But it is for you that I tremble! G.o.d"s sentence upon me must not strike your head too!" Then I made him rise, and said such wise things to him that I quite astonished myself; I am usually such a silly child. I comforted him in a hundred ways, so that at last I won a smile to his lips, and he said, "Then give me absolution. Say, _Christe eleison_!" I was so brave that I even began to talk politics with him--actually got to matters of state! I said, "Why torment yourself with such fancies? Your people are not as bad as those of other countries. I know something of the world! I have seen Frenchmen, Italians, Germans. When they drink hard on holidays, they grow noisy and quarrelsome; but your subjects, when they drink at holiday-time, only stagger about, and laugh and embrace each other.""
"Did not that make him laugh?"
"He only kissed me, telling me I was a wiser stateswoman than either Talleyrand or Metternich; then grew grave again. "So it used to be in former times; and the distinction your wise little head draws did then exist. But nowadays there is something in the air which seems to infect the most peace-loving people; so that what you are sure of one day you cannot be the next. I will tell you what happened to me on my recent journey. It is not talked about, and newspapers and parliamentary reports will be dumb about it. It was growing dusk as I neared the military colony of Petrowsk; the setting sun was tinting bright crimson the fleecy clouds covering the sky. It looked like a ragged imperial mantle." Here I, scolding him, asked who had ever seen a ragged imperial mantle? And he, answering me, said, "Among others, Julius Caesar." "I remarked that it was a sky which presaged storm. "A mere fancy,"
returned Araktseieff.
""In the light of the crimson sky the triumphal arch erected in the street of Petrowsk looked like a bower of molten gold. The other triumphal arches under which we had pa.s.sed had been of fir, which, taking no reflection from the sun, looked gloomy, however brightly it might be shining. What was this made of that it shone so brightly? An immense throng surrounded it. As I drew nearer I discovered of what it was composed. Oh, I have pa.s.sed through many a triumphal arch erected in welcome of me. They have been made of velvets and satins in my honor; I have seen the two side pillars formed of cannon conquered from the enemy; the arch decorated with standards wrested from them; the crown in the centre formed of the orders of fallen heroes; the glittering aureole around of the swords of the generals who were our prisoners. But the triumphal arch of Petrowsk exceeded them all.
""That which from afar in the light of the setting sun shone golden were strips of ragged shirts and gowns; in place of flags were beggars"
sacks; the crown was composed of crutches stuck through an old bottomless cooking-pot. It was a triumphal arch built up of rags and beggars" sacks. While I stood transfixed at the hideous phantom, there stepped one from the midst of the crowd--a fine, tall old man with flowing beard, holding in his hand the customary wooden vessel, in which was a crust of bread--and said:
"""This is the bread which your soldiers have left us. Taste it! It is made from the bark of fir-trees. The usual salt we cannot offer you, for we have none but our salt tears. On this triumphal arch you will find many a token left us by your soldiers; the ragged clothing of our wives and daughters. They themselves are not here, because they could not appear naked before you. The twelve chaste virgins commanded by the Hetman we could not present to bid you welcome, because in all the neighborhood there does not exist a single chaste virgin since you have quartered your soldiers upon us."
""At these words Araktseieff gave the command to the companies of Guard Cossacks in our suite to disperse the rebellious crowd. But they were no rebels, but despairing men. As the trumpet sounded they threw themselves down by the wayside before our horses" feet, and, with hands and face uplifted to me, implored:
"""Deliver us from your soldiers. Take your armed men away from us. We are loyal peasants, and will work. You must ride over our bodies if you wish to go farther."
""It was impossible to make way along the ground so densely strewn with prostrate figures. Nor angry threats, nor gracious words availed.
Without intermission they cried, "Take your soldiers away from us!"
Seldom has a ruler been in such a dilemma. At length came help. From the military colony appeared rank upon rank of veterans, marching in close order, at their head a drum-major, as venerable and gray-bearded as was the peasants" spokesman. I recognized them as my grenadiers. They understood how to overcome the obstacles in their way. A blast of the trumpet, and the sappers advancing seized the peasants by their hands and feet, and, heaping one upon another, made summary way for the brigade to pa.s.s. The drum-major, planting his standard on the ground, said:
"""Sire, do not leave us in this cursed place. We served you faithfully in the battle-field for fifteen years; we fought for you against Frenchmen, Germans, and Italians; and are we now to wage war against field-mice, gra.s.shoppers, caterpillars, and, what is worse, peasants? In our youth we learned to fight like bears; we don"t want, in our old age, to learn to plough like oxen. We understand how to use our guns and sabres, but we are not handy with scythe and sickle, and must we be mocked at by peasants? Lead us into the enemy"s country, where behind every shrub lurks an ambush; but, for pity"s sake, sire, do not leave us here among your peasantry. Send us into the field against idolaters, but do not leave us here to be cursed when we ask anything; cursed when we strike them; cursed if we only look at them. Shut us up in a beleaguered fortress, where we have only the flesh of fallen horses to eat--must season it with powder instead of salt; and for drink have only the water that runs down the walls; but do not condemn us to this forsaken spot on earth, to labor for our bit of bread, envied by a set of thieving, treacherous peasants. Bury us under the corpses of our brothers on the field of battle, but do not bury us alive in the military colony. Curses on him who first thought of it!"
""Araktseieff here commanded the trumpeter to put an end to the man"s speech, but now peasants and soldiers began to make such an uproar that the trumpet notes were deadened. Tlia" (the Czar"s coachman), "without awaiting orders, turned the horses" heads, and we drove back the way by which we had come, but avoiding the hideous arch. Thus ended my triumphal progress. When I reached home I read in the papers the glowing accounts of the ovations I had received. The red sky had truly betokened storm." This is what my poor father told me."
"It is indeed sad for so mighty a Czar, when his people _will_ not be happy, whom he would fain make so. My father"s people were happier. Why does not your father go to them? They are his subjects."