Princess Zara
CHAPTER X
SENTENCED TO DEATH
To what lengths our conversation on that subject might have gone I willnever know, for at that instant we were interrupted by Prince Michael,who was seeking my companion. I had only time to utter one admonition:
"Extremities should never be resorted to until the necessity arises,nor is it wise for one to burn a bridge until it has been crossed;besides, you have an engagement at noon to-morrow which should bekept."
"Which will be kept," she murmured, in reply. Then Prince Michael cameupon us.
The prince reported that many of the guests were calling for theirhostess and so I utilized the opportunity to take my leave, which Idid notwithstanding the protests of my friend. He told me to make useof his _sanka_, which would return and wait for him after it haddeposited me at my door; but when I left the house the storm had lulledalmost to stopping and as the distance was not great I decided to walk.That decision very nearly cost me my life, and very materially alteredmy views regarding the princess as well as my intentions concerningher. As I passed through the house on my way to the street I metCaptain Durnief, who stopped me for a moment.
"I feel like a boy who is dressed in his first trousers," he said to mewith a laugh. "You cannot comprehend the delight of returning to thisplace after the experiences I have undergone in Siberia, for even thelife of an officer there is little better than that of a convict. Ishall have the pleasure of meeting you often, Dubravnik, for Iunderstand that you are frequently at the palace."
"Shall you be there?" I asked.
"Yes; I am detailed to the palace guard. Have you enjoyed the eveninghere?"
"Hugely."
"Of course you have met the princess frequently."
Durnief had a way of half closing his eyes when he talked. He evidentlyintended it to give him the appearance of indifference, but it had adirectly opposite effect upon me, for it was palpably a mask to concealthe intensity of his gaze--to hide the interest he felt in whatever heuttered at the time.
"No," I said, "this is my first acquaintance with her."
"Then you should consider yourself greatly honored."
"I do." Possibly my monosyllabic reply was even shorter than it neededto have been for he gestured an almost imperceptible shrug, andhesitated while he again bestowed upon me that half quizzical glancewhich seemed to conceal a sneer, or which might have been intended tosuggest that I should have understood some obscure meaning behind hiswords; but I chose not to see it. Then, as we shook hands at parting hehonored me by a pressure or his thumb which Moret had taught me tounderstand as the very faintest kind of an interrogation. I havealready mentioned it as often given by a nihilist to one whom hebelieves may be one with him. It was so faint and so uncertain that itmight easily have been mistaken for an accident, and like the glance Ipermitted it to pass unnoticed.
It was about half past two in the morning when I emerged from thehouse. The air was exhilaratingly cold, and the storm was nearly past.The clouds which had hovered over the city all the preceding day andnight were still in evidence, however, so that the streets between thewidely separated lamps were dark and lonely. The distance I had to gowas something more than a mile, and I had traversed more than half ofit and was in the act of turning a corner when directly beside me, andquite near, I saw a flash, was conscious of a loud report, and feltthat I had received a sharp and telling blow on my head.
When I was again conscious of my surroundings I was in my own rooms,while beside the couch upon which I had been placed were my valet, aphysician, and my faithful coadjutor, Tom Coyle.
"Hello, Tom; what's up?" I asked, feebly.
"Faith, you'd have been up higher than you care to go just yet, Dannie,if I hadn't been drivin' wan av me own cabs this night, owin' to thesudden death av wan av me min," he replied. "The doctor says the bulletdidn't hurt ye much, but ye'd have been froze stiff if I hadn't foundye whin I did."
"Tell me about it," I commanded.
"Divil a bit there is to tell, more than I've already said. I was goin'to the princess' afther me fare, whin I heard a shot. I wint where Iheard the sound and found you. That's all I know."
"Where did the bullet strike me?"
"Foreninst yer head, Dannie. Ye'll have a bald spot there, I'mthinkin'. But it only broke the skin an' hit ye a welt that made ye seestars this cloudy night. Now I'm goin'. Maybe I'll have a report foryou whin I come back. There's snow enough. The blackguard ought to haveleft some tracks."
There is a spot on the back of the head where a very light blow willbring about insensibility, and it was exactly on that spot that thebullet had struck me, taking off a little hair and skin, but otherwisedoing no damage; but I could not help connecting the attempt on my lifewith the experiences of the night; in other words, with the woman whoseguest I had been and whose secrets I had overheard. I had cherished afeeling of the utmost charity for her until that moment, but the"accident" changed all that, for I had not a doubt in my mind that itwas by her order that somebody had made the attempt to assassinate me.
After a few hours' sleep I felt as well as ever, and before the time tomake my call upon the princess I paid a visit to Jean Moret. I hadneglected to say that the only letter he had sent away since hisimprisonment was one to his mother, from whom he had received a replyaddressed through one of my agents, and in explanation of hisreluctance to send more, he had said: "It is better that the worldshould think me dead." Concerning the woman for whose sake he became anihilist, he never spoke. But the experiences I had passed through atthe home of the princess, the preceding night, made me wise concerningthe identity of the woman who had influenced him. Indeed I had had itfrom her own lips that she had played with this man, even as she hadhoodwinked the prince. What the relations between her and Moret mighthave been, in what manner they had been brought together in the past,and by what transformation of individuality he had dared to raise hiseyes to a princess, I could not even conjecture. There was no doubt,however, that she had used him for one of the marionettes in her puppetshow; and now he, poor devil, because of it, was safer in a prisoncell, and no doubt happier, too, than he would have been at liberty.
I wanted the man to talk and to talk about her, and I must confess whatI did not at the moment realize that my desire found its source more inpersonal resentment against any confidential passages that may havetaken place between those two, than in my plain duty to the cause I wasserving.
There are many kinds of jealousy, and each kind will find itsexpression through innumerable channels. If I had been charged withjealousy at that moment, I would have repudiated the suggestion withscorn and contempt; and yet I was jealous.
I had thought rather deeply upon this approaching conversation withMoret, while on my way to interview him, but I was no nearer to adetermination regarding what I should say to him, when I entered theroom he occupied in the prison, than I had been when the idea firstoccurred to me. Now when I entered the room where he was imprisoned, Isaid:
"Why is it, Moret, that you have never taken any further advantage ofmy promise that you could write and send letters?"
"There is no one with whom I care to communicate," he replied.
"Not even with the princess?" I asked the question idly, watching himfrom between half closed lids.
"With what princess?" he asked calmly, and without a trace of surpriseor resentment in his perfectly trained countenance.
"Zara de Echeveria," I said, coldly.
"I do not know her."
"No! She knows you."
"Indeed? It is an honor to be known by a princess."
"I have it from her own lips that she is responsible for your presencein the palace."
"Then surely there is no need to interview me on the subject." He wasthoroughly my equal in this play-of-words.
"She was told in my presence that you were dead. Would you not like tohear what she said in reply?" I asked him.
"If you care to tell me."
"She said that it was better so; t
hat if you lived you would havebetrayed all your friends--including her; that in fact you were morefool than knave."
"She is not complimentary; but as I do not know her, it makes nodifference." Nothing could have been more composed than Moret's mannerwas.
"You will not discuss her?"
"I would if I could, but I do not know her, monsieur."
"Well, Moret, I like your loyalty, even to one who has used you as amere tool, and who is now rejoiced to learn that you are dead, and outof her way, with the dangerous secrets you possess. I am going to heras soon as I leave you; perhaps she will talk about you again."
Moret stared at me unwinkingly, but with a countenance that was likemarble in its intensity. I knew that he was suffering, and that mywords were the cause of his agony. I knew that I was prodding himdeeply and severely, thrusting the iron into his soul with as littlecompunction as a Mexican _charo_ exerts when he "cinches" a heavilyburdened _burro_. But I was doing it with malice prepense, and I wasdoing it for a purpose.
I wished, somehow, to compel this man to talk freely with me about theprincess and yet all the time I was reluctant in my own soul to havehim do it. During that interval Moret was greater than I; morechivalrous than I; for he remained loyal to his duty towards her, as hesaw it, in spite of the terrible accusation I had made against herwomanliness, and notwithstanding all the insinuations I had putforward, respecting her utter disregard and contempt for him.
"Perhaps she will do so," he said; "that is, if she knows aught to sayof me."
He was silent for a moment after that, and I waited, knowing that I hadtried this man to the utmost point of his mental endurance.
Presently he raised his eyes again to mine, and said:
"Mr. Dubravnik, at the very beginning of our acquaintance, when youmade a prisoner of me in one of the rooms of the suite you were tooccupy in the palace, I told you that I had gone into this business forthe love of a woman, and it was tacitly, if not literally agreedbetween us at that time, that the woman's personality and name shouldform no part of our future discussions. You have chosen, at this time,to mention a princess, to whom you give the name of Zara de Echeveria,and I have told you that I know no such person; that the name meansnothing to me. What you may surmise, Mr. Dubravnik, can have no effectupon me, or upon your relations with me, or mine with you. So now Itell you once again, that while I am perfectly willing to believemyself to be morally free to discuss with you all phases of nihilism,I will not discuss this woman you have named, _or any other woman_."
He bowed his head and I could see beads of sweat upon his foreheadwhich betrayed the mental anguish he was undergoing. I knew that it wasfar worse than physical torture, and as there was nothing to gain byprolonging it, and nothing more to be said, I withdrew.
At the end of another half hour I was announced to the princess.
She received me in a diminutive bower of Oriental luxury. Herdecorative tastes were decidedly Eastern and lavishly extravagant. Sheknew how to arrange a room with the object of stealing away a man'sreserve. There is something about the atmosphere of well chosensurroundings which intoxicates judgment and murders discretion--whichbars reason at the threshold and generates madness of thought and deedbeyond it. A Solon in the princess' drawing room might become a puppetin her boudoir; in that fascinating atmosphere a Jove would havedegenerated to a Hermes, or Mars have cast away his sword and shieldfor the wings of Apollo. To enter it, was like awaking from a vividdream of battle to find the soft arms of love around you, and to feelthe lethargy of infinite content. Add to this the personality of thePrincess Zara, her half hesitating smile of welcome in which pleasureand dread were equally mingled; suffuse her face with a quick blush,and instantly replace it with a touch of pallor; render her manner witha suggestion of hauteur, softened by a gesture of timidity and doubt;listen to her voice, low-toned and infinitely calm yet vibrating in aminor chord of uncertainty and dread; feel the clasp of her hand, coldwhen it touches yours, yet instantly thrilling you with a glow inducedby the contact, and--remain thoroughly master of yourself if you can.Retain, if you have the strength to do so, the opinions you had formed,the judgments you have passed. If you succeed, you are a giant; if youfail, you are just what I was--a man, and human.
"You are punctual, and I am grateful," she murmured. "If you had beenlate----"
All the hardness I had felt before returned to me then.
"If I had been late you would have known the reason, princess," I said.
"No; but I should have feared it."
"I would have been dead."
"Dead!"
"Yes; but, unfortunately, the attempt upon my life did not succeed,thanks to Fate and poor marksmanship."
"The attempt on your life! I do not understand."
I turned my head so that she could see where the plaster hid the woundmade by the bullet of the would-be assassin.
"A better marksman would have compelled me to break my engagement,princess," I said.
She extended one hand and rested a finger lightly upon the wound, asthough she intended the mere touch to heal it. With the other hand shegently turned my face towards hers; yet she did it in a way that wasdevoid of intimacy. Somehow she changed what might have been suggestiveof familiarity, into a gesture of womanly tenderness; and there wasundoubtedly horror in her eyes, and a flash of angry resentment, too.
"You think that I am responsible for this?" she asked, releasing me andstepping backward.
I bowed, but made no reply.
Impulsively, she crossed the room, and from the floor, where she haddoubtless thrown it after reading, secured a crumpled wad of paper, andafter straightening and smoothing it, gave it into my hand.
"Read," she said.
"'Our interview in the garden was overheard by two persons besideourselves,'" I read, aloud. "'One of them, fortunately, was a friend;the other may not keep the engagement made with you.'"
"It is from Ivan," she said. "It is because I received that note that Iwould have been anxious if you had been detained. It did not occur tome to doubt that you would be prompt until I read that. I did not doubtyou, Mr. Dubravnik. I might have killed myself, but I would nothave--ah! To think that you could deem me capable of such an act asthat!"
"I did not princess, until--well, there was no other theory. At allevents, I have changed my mind. Who is Ivan?"
"My brother."
"I did not know you had a brother."
"Naturally, since his existence is forgotten. He was sentenced toSiberia when he was sixteen. Now he is thought to be dead, but heescaped, and is here. He must have brought some one with him lastnight--somebody who listened to everything. Do you know what that notemeans, my friend? It means that you have been sentenced to death. Itmeans that the nihilists will surely take your life; and oh, my God,there is no escape!"