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diff --git a/1686-h/1686-h.htm b/1686-h/1686-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..277915b --- /dev/null +++ b/1686-h/1686-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,14033 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Secret of the Night, by Gaston Leroux + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Secret of the Night, by Gaston Leroux + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Secret of the Night + +Author: Gaston Leroux + +Release Date: November 20, 2008 [EBook #1686] +[Last updated: September 12, 2017] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SECRET OF THE NIGHT *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE SECRET OF THE NIGHT + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Gaston Leroux + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <big><b>THE SECRET OF THE NIGHT</b></big> + </a><br /> <br /> <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> I. </a> GAYETY + AND DYNAMITE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> II. </a> NATACHA + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> III. </a> THE WATCH + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> IV. </a> "THE YOUTH OF + MOSCOW IS DEAD” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> V. </a> BY + ROULETABILLE’S ORDER THE GENERAL PROMENADES <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0008"> VI. </a> THE MYSTERIOUS HAND <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VII. </a> ARSENATE OF SODA <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> VIII. </a> THE LITTLE CHAPEL OF THE + GUARDS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> IX. </a> ANNOUCHKA + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> X. </a> A DRAMA IN THE + NIGHT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XI. </a> THE + POISON CONTINUES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XII. </a> PERE + ALEXIS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XIII. </a> THE + LIVING BOMBS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XIV. </a> THE + MARSHES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XV. </a> "I HAVE + BEEN WAITING FOR YOU” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVI. </a> BEFORE + THE REVOLUTIONARY TRIBUNAL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XVII. + </a> THE LAST CRAVAT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> + XVIII. </a> A SINGULAR EXPERIENCE <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XIX. </a> THE TSAR <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + THE SECRET OF THE NIGHT + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. GAYETY AND DYNAMITE + </h2> + <p> + “BARINIA, the young stranger has arrived.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he is waiting at the lodge.” + </p> + <p> + “I told you to show him to Natacha’s sitting-room. Didn’t you understand + me, Ermolai?” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon, Barinia, but the young stranger, when I asked to search him, as + you directed, flatly refused to let me.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you explain to him that everybody is searched before being allowed to + enter, that it is the order, and that even my mother herself has submitted + to it?” + </p> + <p> + “I told him all that, Barinia; and I told him about madame your mother.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he say to that?” + </p> + <p> + “That he was not madame your mother. He acted angry.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, let him come in without being searched.” + </p> + <p> + “The Chief of Police won’t like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do as I say.” + </p> + <p> + Ermolai bowed and returned to the garden. The “barinia” left the veranda, + where she had come for this conversation with the old servant of General + Trebassof, her husband, and returned to the dining-room in the datcha des + Iles, where the gay Councilor Ivan Petrovitch was regaling his amused + associates with his latest exploit at Cubat’s resort. They were a noisy + company, and certainly the quietest among them was not the general, who + nursed on a sofa the leg which still held him captive after the recent + attack, that to his old coachman and his two piebald horses had proved + fatal. The story of the always-amiable Ivan Petrovitch (a lively, little, + elderly man with his head bald as an egg) was about the evening before. + After having, as he said, “recure la bouche” for these gentlemen spoke + French like their own language and used it among themselves to keep their + servants from understanding—after having wet his whistle with a + large glass of sparkling rosy French wine, he cried: + </p> + <p> + “You would have laughed, Feodor Feodorovitch. We had sung songs on the + Barque* and then the Bohemians left with their music and we went out onto + the river-bank to stretch our legs and cool our faces in the freshness of + the dawn, when a company of Cossacks of the Guard came along. I knew the + officer in command and invited him to come along with us and drink the + Emperor’s health at Cubat’s place. That officer, Feodor Feodorovitch, is a + man who knows vintages and boasts that he has never swallowed a glass of + anything so common as Crimean wine. When I named champagne he cried, ‘Vive + l’Empereur!’ A true patriot. So we started, merry as school-children. The + entire company followed, then all the diners playing little whistles, and + all the servants besides, single file. At Cubat’s I hated to leave the + companion-officers of my friend at the door, so I invited them in, too. + They accepted, naturally. But the subalterns were thirsty as well. I + understand discipline. You know, Feodor Feodorovitch, that I am a stickler + for discipline. Just because one is gay of a spring morning, discipline + should not be forgotten. I invited the officers to drink in a private + room, and sent the subalterns into the main hall of the restaurant. Then + the soldiers were thirsty, too, and I had drinks served to them out in the + courtyard. Then, my word, there was a perplexing business, for now the + horses whinnied. The brave horses, Feodor Feodorovitch, who also wished to + drink the health of the Emperor. I was bothered about the discipline. + Hall, court, all were full. And I could not put the horses in private + rooms. Well, I made them carry out champagne in pails and then came the + perplexing business I had tried so hard to avoid, a grand mixture of boots + and horse-shoes that was certainly the liveliest thing I have ever seen in + my life. But the horses were the most joyous, and danced as if a torch was + held under their nostrils, and all of them, my word! were ready to throw + their riders because the men were not of the same mind with them as to the + route to follow! From our window we laughed fit to kill at such a mixture + of sprawling boots and dancing hoofs. But the troopers finally got all + their horses to barracks, with patience, for the Emperor’s cavalry are the + best riders in the world, Feodor Feodorovitch. And we certainly had a + great laugh!—Your health, Matrena Petrovna.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [* The “Barque” is a restaurant on a boat, among the isles, + near the Gulf of Finland, on a bank of the Neva.] +</pre> + <p> + These last graceful words were addressed to Madame Trebassof, who shrugged + her shoulders at the undesired gallantry of the gay Councilor. She did not + join in the conversation, excepting to calm the general, who wished to + send the whole regiment to the guard-house, men and horses. And while the + roisterers laughed over the adventure she said to her husband in the + advisory voice of the helpful wife: + </p> + <p> + “Feodor, you must not attach importance to what that old fool Ivan tells + you. He is the most imaginative man in the capital when he has had + champagne.” + </p> + <p> + “Ivan, you certainly have not had horses served with champagne in pails,” + the old boaster, Athanase Georgevitch, protested jealously. He was an + advocate, well-known for his table-feats, who claimed the hardest drinking + reputation of any man in the capital, and he regretted not to have + invented that tale. + </p> + <p> + “On my word! And the best brands! I had won four thousand roubles. I left + the little fete with fifteen kopecks.” + </p> + <p> + Matrena Petrovna was listening to Ermolai, the faithful country servant + who wore always, even here in the city, his habit of fresh nankeen, his + black leather belt, his large blue pantaloons and his boots glistening + like ice, his country costume in his master’s city home. Madame Matrena + rose, after lightly stroking the hair of her step-daughter Natacha, whose + eyes followed her to the door, indifferent apparently to the tender + manifestations of her father’s orderly, the soldier-poet, Boris Mourazoff, + who had written beautiful verses on the death of the Moscow students, + after having shot them, in the way of duty, on their barricades. + </p> + <p> + Ermolai conducted his mistress to the drawing-room and pointed across to a + door that he had left open, which led to the sitting-room before Natacha’s + chamber. + </p> + <p> + “He is there,” said Ermolai in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + Ermolai need have said nothing, for that matter, since Madame Matrena was + aware of a stranger’s presence in the sitting-room by the extraordinary + attitude of an individual in a maroon frock-coat bordered with false + astrakhan, such as is on the coats of all the Russian police agents and + makes the secret agents recognizable at first glance. This policeman was + on his knees in the drawing-room watching what passed in the next room + through the narrow space of light in the hinge-way of the door. In this + manner, or some other, all persons who wished to approach General + Trebassof were kept under observation without their knowing it, after + having been first searched at the lodge, a measure adopted since the + latest attack. + </p> + <p> + Madame Matrena touched the policeman’s shoulder with that heroic hand + which had saved her husband’s life and which still bore traces of the + terrible explosion in the last attack, when she had seized the infernal + machine intended for the general with her bare hand. The policeman rose + and silently left the room, reached the veranda and lounged there on a + sofa, pretending to be asleep, but in reality watching the garden paths. + </p> + <p> + Matrena Petrovna took his place at the hinge-vent. This was her rule; she + always took the final glance at everything and everybody. She roved at all + hours of the day and night round about the general, like a watch-dog, + ready to bite, to throw itself before the danger, to receive the blows, to + perish for its master. This had commenced at Moscow after the terrible + repression, the massacre of revolutionaries under the walls of Presnia, + when the surviving Nihilists left behind them a placard condemning the + victorious General Trebassof to death. Matrena Petrovna lived only for the + general. She had vowed that she would not survive him. So she had double + reason to guard him. + </p> + <p> + But she had lost all confidence even within the walls of her own home. + </p> + <p> + Things had happened even there that defied her caution, her instinct, her + love. She had not spoken of these things save to the Chief of Police, + Koupriane, who had reported them to the Emperor. And here now was the man + whom the Emperor had sent, as the supreme resource, this young stranger—Joseph + Rouletabille, reporter. + </p> + <p> + “But he is a mere boy!” she exclaimed, without at all understanding the + matter, this youthful figure, with soft, rounded cheeks, eyes clear and, + at first view, extraordinarily naive, the eyes of an infant. True, at the + moment Rouletabille’s expression hardly suggested any superhuman + profundity of thought, for, left in view of a table, spread with + hors-d’oeuvres, the young man appeared solely occupied in digging out with + a spoon all the caviare that remained in the jars. Matrena noted the rosy + freshness of his cheeks, the absence of down on his lip and not a hint of + beard, the thick hair, with the curl over the forehead. Ah, that forehead—the + forehead was curious, with great over-hanging cranial lumps which moved + above the deep arcade of the eye-sockets while the mouth was busy—well, + one would have said that Rouletabille had not eaten for a week. He was + demolishing a great slice of Volgan sturgeon, contemplating at the same + time with immense interest a salad of creamed cucumbers, when Matrena + Petrovna appeared. + </p> + <p> + He wished to excuse himself at once and spoke with his mouth full. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, madame, but the Czar forgot to invite me to + breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Matrena smiled and gave him a hearty handshake as she urged him to + be seated. + </p> + <p> + “You have seen His Majesty?” + </p> + <p> + “I come from him, madame. It is to Madame Trebassof that I have the honor + of speaking?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And you are Monsieur—?” + </p> + <p> + “Joseph Rouletabille, madame. I do not add, ‘At your service—because + I do not know about that yet. That is what I said just now to His + Majesty.” + </p> + <p> + “Then?” asked Madame Matrena, rather amused by the tone the conversation + had taken and the slightly flurried air of Rouletabille. + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, I am a reporter, you see. That is what I said at once to my + editor in Paris, ‘I am not going to take part in revolutionary affairs + that do not concern my country,’ to which my editor replied, ‘You do not + have to take part. You must go to Russia to make an inquiry into the + present status of the different parties. You will commence by interviewing + the Emperor.’ I said, ‘Well, then, here goes,’ and took the train.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have interviewed the Emperor?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, that has not been difficult. I expected to arrive direct at St. + Petersburg, but at Krasnoie-Coelo the train stopped and the grand-marshal + of the court came to me and asked me to follow him. It was very + flattering. Twenty minutes later I was before His Majesty. He awaited me! + I understood at once that this was obviously for something out of the + ordinary.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did he say to you?” + </p> + <p> + “He is a man of genuine majesty. He reassured me at once when I explained + my scruples to him. He said there was no occasion for me to take part in + the politics of the matter, but to save his most faithful servant, who was + on the point of becoming the victim of the strangest family drama ever + conceived.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Matrena, white as a sheet, rose to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” she said simply. + </p> + <p> + But Rouletabille, whom nothing escaped, saw her hand tremble on the back + of the chair. + </p> + <p> + He went on, not appearing to have noticed her emotion: + </p> + <p> + “His Majesty added these exact words: ‘It is I who ask it of you; I and + Madame Trebassof. Go, monsieur, she awaits you.’” + </p> + <p> + He ceased and waited for Madame Trebassof to speak. + </p> + <p> + She made up her mind after brief reflection. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen Koupriane?” + </p> + <p> + “The Chief of Police? Yes. The grand-marshal accompanied me back to the + station at Krasnoie-Coelo, and the Chief of Police accompanied me to St. + Petersburg station. One could not have been better received.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Rouletabille,” said Matrena, who visibly strove to regain her + self-control, “I am not of Koupriane’s opinion and I am not”—here + she lowered her trembling voice—“of the opinion His Majesty holds. + It is better for me to tell you at once, so that you may not regret + intervening in an affair where there are—where there are—risks—terrible + risks to run. No, this is not a family drama. The family is small, very + small: the general, his daughter Natacha (by his former marriage), and + myself. There could not be a family drama among us three. It is simply + about my husband, monsieur, who did his duty as a soldier in defending the + throne of his sovereign, my husband whom they mean to assassinate! There + is nothing else, no other situation, my dear little guest.” + </p> + <p> + To hide her distress she started to carve a slice of jellied veal and + carrot. + </p> + <p> + “You have not eaten, you are hungry. It is dreadful, my dear young man. + See, you must dine with us, and then—you will say adieu. Yes, you + will leave me all alone. I will undertake to save him all alone. + Certainly, I will undertake it.” + </p> + <p> + A tear fell on the slice she was cutting. Rouletabille, who felt the brave + woman’s emotion affecting him also, braced himself to keep from showing + it. + </p> + <p> + “I am able to help you a little all the same,” he said. “Monsieur + Koupriane has told me that there is a deep mystery. It is my vocation to + get to the bottom of mysteries.” + </p> + <p> + “I know what Koupriane thinks,” she said, shaking her head. “But if I + could bring myself to think that for a single day I would rather be dead.” + </p> + <p> + The good Matrena Petrovna lifted her beautiful eyes to Rouletabille, + brimming with the tears she held back. + </p> + <p> + She added quickly: + </p> + <p> + “But eat now, my dear guest; eat. My dear child, you must forget what + Koupriane has said to you, when you are back in France.” + </p> + <p> + “I promise you that, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the Emperor who has caused you this long journey. For me, I did not + wish it. Has he, indeed, so much confidence in you?” she asked naively, + gazing at him fixedly through her tears. + </p> + <p> + “Madame, I was just about to tell you. I have been active in some + important matters that have been reported to him, and then sometimes your + Emperor is allowed to see the papers. He has heard talk, too (for + everybody talked of them, madame), about the Mystery of the Yellow Room + and the Perfume of the Lady in Black.” + </p> + <p> + Here Rouletabille watched Madame Trebassof and was much mortified at the + undoubted ignorance that showed in her frank face of either the yellow + room or the black perfume. + </p> + <p> + “My young friend,” said she, in a voice more and more hesitant, “you must + excuse me, but it is a long time since I have had good eyes for reading.” + </p> + <p> + Tears, at last, ran down her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille could not restrain himself any further. He saw in one flash + all this heroic woman had suffered in her combat day by day with the death + which hovered. He took her little fat hands, whose fingers were overloaded + with rings, tremulously into his own: + </p> + <p> + “Madame, do not weep. They wish to kill your husband. Well then, we will + be two at least to defend him, I swear to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Even against the Nihilists!” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, madame, against all the world. I have eaten all your caviare. I am + your guest. I am your friend.” + </p> + <p> + As he said this he was so excited, so sincere and so droll that Madame + Trebassof could not help smiling through her tears. She made him sit down + beside her. + </p> + <p> + “The Chief of Police has talked of you a great deal. He came here abruptly + after the last attack and a mysterious happening that I will tell you + about. He cried, ‘Ah, we need Rouletabille to unravel this!’ The next day + he came here again. He had gone to the Court. There, everybody, it + appears, was talking of you. The Emperor wished to know you. That is why + steps were taken through the ambassador at Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. And naturally all the world has learned of it. That makes it so + lively. The Nihilists warned me immediately that I would not reach Russia + alive. That, finally, was what decided me on coming. I am naturally very + contrary.” + </p> + <p> + “And how did you get through the journey?” + </p> + <p> + “Not badly. I discovered at once in the train a young Slav assigned to + kill me, and I reached an understanding with him. He was a charming youth, + so it was easily arranged.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille was eating away now at strange viands that it would have been + difficult for him to name. Matrena Petrovna laid her fat little hand on + his arm: + </p> + <p> + “You speak seriously?” + </p> + <p> + “Very seriously.” + </p> + <p> + “A small glass of vodka?” + </p> + <p> + “No alcohol.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Matrena emptied her little glass at a draught. + </p> + <p> + “And how did you discover him? How did you know him?” + </p> + <p> + “First, he wore glasses. All Nihilists wear glasses when traveling. And + then I had a good clew. A minute before the departure from Paris I had a + friend go into the corridor of the sleeping-car, a reporter who would do + anything I said without even wanting to know why. I said, ‘You call out + suddenly and very loud, “Hello, here is Rouletabille.”’ So he called, + ‘Hello, here is Rouletabille,’ and all those who were in the corridor + turned and all those who were already in the compartments came out, + excepting the man with the glasses. Then I was sure about him.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Trebassof looked at Rouletabille, who turned as red as the comb of a + rooster and was rather embarrassed at his fatuity. + </p> + <p> + “That deserves a rebuff, I know, madame, but from the moment the Emperor + of all the Russias had desired to see me I could not admit that any mere + man with glasses had not the curiosity to see what I looked like. It was + not natural. As soon as the train was off I sat down by this man and told + him who I thought he was. I was right. He removed his glasses and, looking + me straight in the eyes, said he was glad to have a little talk with me + before anything unfortunate happened. A half-hour later the + entente-cordiale was signed. I gave him to understand that I was coming + here simply on business as a reporter and that there was always time to + check me if I should be indiscreet. At the German frontier he left me to + go on, and returned tranquilly to his nitro-glycerine.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a marked man also, my poor boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they have not got us yet.” + </p> + <p> + Matrena Petrovna coughed. That <i>us</i> overwhelmed her. With what + calmness this boy that she had not known an hour proposed to share the + dangers of a situation that excited general pity but from which the + bravest kept aloof either from prudence or dismay. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my friend, a little of this fine smoked Hamburg beef?” + </p> + <p> + But the young man was already pouring out fresh yellow beer. + </p> + <p> + “There,” said he. “Now, madame, I am listening. Tell me first about the + earliest attack.” + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Matrena, “we must go to dinner.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille looked at her wide-eyed. + </p> + <p> + “But, madame, what have I just been doing?” + </p> + <p> + Madame Matrena smiled. All these strangers were alike. Because they had + eaten some hors-d’oeuvres, some zakouskis, they imagined their host would + be satisfied. They did not know how to eat. + </p> + <p> + “We will go to the dining-room. The general is expecting you. They are at + table.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand I am supposed to know him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you have met in Paris. It is entirely natural that in passing + through St. Petersburg you should make him a visit. You know him very well + indeed, so well that he opens his home to you. Ah, yes, my step-daughter + also”—she flushed a little—“Natacha believes that her father + knows you.” + </p> + <p> + She opened the door of the drawing-room, which they had to cross in order + to reach the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + From his present position Rouletabille could see all the corners of the + drawing-room, the veranda, the garden and the entrance lodge at the gate. + In the veranda the man in the maroon frock-coat trimmed with false + astrakhan seemed still to be asleep on the sofa; in one of the corners of + the drawing-room another individual, silent and motionless as a statue, + dressed exactly the same, in a maroon frock-coat with false astrakhan, + stood with his hands behind his back seemingly struck with general + paralysis at the sight of a flaring sunset which illumined as with a torch + the golden spires of Saints Peter and Paul. And in the garden and before + the lodge three others dressed in maroon roved like souls in pain over the + lawn or back and forth at the entrance. Rouletabille motioned to Madame + Matrena, stepped back into the sitting-room and closed the door. + </p> + <p> + “Police?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Matrena Petrovna nodded her head and put her finger to her mouth in a + naive way, as one would caution a child to silence. Rouletabille smiled. + </p> + <p> + “How many are there?” + </p> + <p> + “Ten, relieved every six hours.” + </p> + <p> + “That makes forty unknown men around your house each day.” + </p> + <p> + “Not unknown,” she replied. “Police.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet, in spite of them, you have had the affair of the bouquet in the + general’s chamber.” + </p> + <p> + “No, there were only three then. It is since the affair of the bouquet + that there have been ten.” + </p> + <p> + “It hardly matters. It is since these ten that you have had...” + </p> + <p> + “What?” she demanded anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “You know well—the flooring.” + </p> + <p> + “Sh-h-h.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced at the door, watching the policeman statuesque before the + setting sun. + </p> + <p> + “No one knows that—not even my husband.” + </p> + <p> + “So M. Koupriane told me. Then it is you who have arranged for these ten + police-agents?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we will commence now by sending all these police away.” + </p> + <p> + Matrena Petrovna grasped his hand, astounded. + </p> + <p> + “Surely you don’t think of doing such a thing as that!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. We must know where the blow is coming from. You have four different + groups of people around here—the police, the domestics, your + friends, your family. Get rid of the police first. They must not be + permitted to cross your threshold. They have not been able to protect you. + You have nothing to regret. And if, after they are gone, something new + turns up, we can leave M. Koupriane to conduct the inquiries without his + being preoccupied here at the house.” + </p> + <p> + “But you do not know the admirable police of Koupriane. These brave men + have given proof of their devotion.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, if I were face to face with a Nihilist the first thing I would + ask myself about him would be, ‘Is he one of the police?’ The first thing + I ask in the presence of an agent of your police is, ‘Is he not a + Nihilist?’” + </p> + <p> + “But they will not wish to go.” + </p> + <p> + “Do any of them speak French?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, their sergeant, who is out there in the salon.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray call him.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Trebassof walked into the salon and signaled. The man appeared. + Rouletabille handed him a paper, which the other read. + </p> + <p> + “You will gather your men together and quit the villa,” ordered + Rouletabille. “You will return to the police Headguarters. Say to M. + Koupriane that I have commanded this and that I require all police service + around the villa to be suspended until further orders.” + </p> + <p> + The man bowed, appeared not to understand, looked at Madame Trebassof and + said to the young man: + </p> + <p> + “At your service.” + </p> + <p> + He went out. + </p> + <p> + “Wait here a moment,” urged Madame Trebassof, who did not know how to take + this abrupt action and whose anxiety was really painful to see. + </p> + <p> + She disappeared after the man of the false astrakhan. A few moments + afterwards she returned. She appeared even more agitated. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” she murmured, “but I cannot let them go like this. + They are much chagrined. They have insisted on knowing where they have + failed in their service. I have appeased them with money.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and tell me the whole truth, madame. You have directed them not to + go far away, but to remain near the villa so as to watch it as closely as + possible.” + </p> + <p> + She reddened. + </p> + <p> + “It is true. But they have gone, nevertheless. They had to obey you. What + can that paper be you have shown them?” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille drew out again the billet covered with seals and signs and + cabalistics that he did not understand. Madame Trebassof translated it + aloud: “Order to all officials in surveillance of the Villa Trebassof to + obey the bearer absolutely. Signed: Koupriane.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible!” murmured Matrena Petrovna. “But Koupriane would never + have given you this paper if he had imagined that you would use it to + dismiss his agents.” + </p> + <p> + “Evidently. I have not asked him his advice, madame, you may be sure. But + I will see him to-morrow and he will understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Meanwhile, who is going to watch over him?” cried she. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille took her hands again. He saw her suffering, a prey to anguish + almost prostrating. He pitied her. He wished to give her immediate + confidence. + </p> + <p> + “We will,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She saw his young, clear eyes, so deep, so intelligent, the well-formed + young head, the willing face, all his young ardency for her, and it + reassured her. Rouletabille waited for what she might say. She said + nothing. She took him in her arms and embraced him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. NATACHA + </h2> + <p> + In the dining-room it was Thaddeus Tchnichnikoff’s turn to tell hunting + stories. He was the greatest timber-merchant in Lithuania. He owned + immense forests and he loved Feodor Feodorovitch* as a brother, for they + had played together all through their childhood, and once he had saved him + from a bear that was just about to crush his skull as one might knock off + a hat. General Trebassof’s father was governor of Courlande at that time, + by the grace of God and the Little Father. Thaddeus, who was just thirteen + years old, killed the bear with a single stroke of his boar-spear, and + just in time. Close ties were knit between the two families by this + occurrence, and though Thaddeus was neither noble-born nor a soldier, + Feodor considered him his brother and felt toward him as such. Now + Thaddeus had become the greatest timber-merchant of the western provinces, + with his own forests and also with his massive body, his fat, oily face, + his bull-neck and his ample paunch. He quitted everything at once—all + his affairs, his family—as soon as he learned of the first attack, + to come and remain by the side of his dear comrade Feodor. He had done + this after each attack, without forgetting one. He was a faithful friend. + But he fretted because they might not go bear-hunting as in their youth. + ‘Where, he would ask, are there any bears remaining in Courlande, or trees + for that matter, what you could call trees, growing since the days of the + grand-dukes of Lithuania, giant trees that threw their shade right up to + the very edge of the towns? Where were such things nowadays? Thaddeus was + very amusing, for it was he, certainly, who had cut them away tranquilly + enough and watched them vanish in locomotive smoke. It was what was called + Progress. Ah, hunting lost its national character assuredly with tiny + new-growth trees which had not had time to grow. And, besides, one + nowadays had not time for hunting. All the big game was so far away. Lucky + enough if one seized the time to bring down a brace of woodcock early in + the morning. At this point in Thaddeus’s conversation there was a babble + of talk among the convivial gentlemen, for they had all the time in the + world at their disposal and could not see why he should be so concerned + about snatching a little while at morning or evening, or at midday for + that matter. Champagne was flowing like a river when Rouletabille was + brought in by Matrena Petrovna. The general, whose eyes had been on the + door for some time, cried at once, as though responding to a cue: + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear Rouletabille! I have been looking for you. Our friends wrote + me you were coming to St. Petersburg.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * In this story according to Russian habit General Trebassof + is called alternately by that name or the family name Feodor + Feodorovitch, and Madame Trebassof by that name or her + family name, Matrena Petrovna.—Translator’s Note. +</pre> + <p> + Rouletabille hurried over to him and they shook hands like friends who + meet after a long separation. The reporter was presented to the company as + a close young friend from Paris whom they had enjoyed so much during their + latest visit to the City of Light. Everybody inquired for the latest word + of Paris as of a dear acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + “How is everybody at Maxim’s?” urged the excellent Athanase Georgevitch. + </p> + <p> + Thaddeus, too, had been once in Paris and he returned with an enthusiastic + liking for the French demoiselles. + </p> + <p> + “Vos gogottes, monsieur,” he said, appearing very amiable and leaning on + each word, with a guttural emphasis such as is common in the western + provinces, “ah, vos gogottes!” + </p> + <p> + Matrena Perovna tried to silence him, but Thaddeus insisted on his right + to appreciate the fair sex away from home. He had a turgid, sentimental + wife, always weeping and cramming her religious notions down his throat. + </p> + <p> + Of course someone asked Rouletabille what he thought of Russia, but he had + no more than opened his mouth to reply than Athanase Georgevitch closed it + by interrupting: + </p> + <p> + “Permettez! Permettez! You others, of the young generation, what do you + know of it? You need to have lived a long time and in all its districts to + appreciate Russia at its true value. Russia, my young sir, is as yet a + closed book to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” Rouletabille answered, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, here’s your health! What I would point out to you first of + all is that it is a good buyer of champagne, eh?”—and he gave a huge + grin. “But the hardest drinker I ever knew was born on the banks of the + Seine. Did you know him, Feodor Feodorovitch? Poor Charles Dufour, who + died two years ago at fete of the officers of the Guard. He wagered at the + end of the banquet that he could drink a glassful of champagne to the + health of each man there. There were sixty when you came to count them. He + commenced the round of the table and the affair went splendidly up to the + fifty-eighth man. But at the fifty-ninth—think of the misfortune!—the + champagne ran out! That poor, that charming, that excellent Charles took + up a glass of vin dore which was in the glass of this fifty-ninth, wished + him long life, drained the glass at one draught, had just time to murmur, + ‘Tokay, 1807,’ and fell back dead! Ah, he knew the brands, my word! and he + proved it to his last breath! Peace to his ashes! They asked what he died + of. I knew he died because of the inappropriate blend of flavors. There + should be discipline in all things and not promiscuous mixing. One more + glass of champagne and he would have been drinking with us this evening. + Your health, Matrena Petrovna. Champagne, Feodor Feodorovitch! Vive la + France, monsieur! Natacha, my child, you must sing something. Boris will + accompany you on the guzla. Your father will enjoy it.” + </p> + <p> + All eyes turned toward Natacha as she rose. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille was struck by her serene beauty. That was the first + enthralling impression, an impression so strong it astonished him, the + perfect serenity, the supreme calm, the tranquil harmony of her noble + features. Natacha was twenty. Heavy brown hair circled about er forehead + and was looped about her ears, which were half-concealed. Her profile was + clear-cut; her mouth was strong and revealed between red, firm lips the + even pearliness of her teeth. She was of medium height. In walking she had + the free, light step of the highborn maidens who, in primal times, pressed + the flowers as they passed without crushing them. But all her true grace + seemed to be concentrated in her eyes, which were deep and of a dark blue. + The impression she made upon a beholder was very complex. And it would + have been difficult to say whether the calm which pervaded every + manifestation of her beauty was the result of conscious control or the + most perfect ease. + </p> + <p> + She took down the guzla and handed it to Boris, who struck some plaintive + preliminary chords. + </p> + <p> + “What shall I sing?” she inquired, raising her father’s hand from the back + of the sofa where he rested and kissing it with filial tenderness. + </p> + <p> + “Improvise,” said the general. “Improvise in French, for the sake of our + guest.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” cried Boris; “improvise as you did the other evening.” + </p> + <p> + He immediately struck a minor chord. + </p> + <p> + Natacha looked fondly at her father as she sang: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “When the moment comes that parts us at the close of day, + when the Angel of Sleep covers you with azure wings; + “Oh, may your eyes rest from so many tears, and your oppressed + heart have calm; + “In each moment that we have together, Father dear, let our + souls feel harmony sweet and mystical; + “And when your thoughts may have flown to other worlds, oh, may + my image, at least, nestle within your sleeping eyes.” + </pre> + <p> + Natacha’s voice was sweet, and the charm of it subtly pervasive. The words + as she uttered them seemed to have all the quality of a prayer and there + were tears in all eyes, excepting those of Michael Korsakoff, the second + orderly, whom Rouletabille appraised as a man with a rough heart not much + open to sentiment. + </p> + <p> + “Feodor Feodorovitch,” said this officer, when the young girl’s voice had + faded away into the blending with the last note of the guzla, “Feodor + Feodorovitch is a man and a glorious soldier who is able to sleep in + peace, because he has labored for his country and for his Czar.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. Labored well! A glorious soldier!” repeated Athanase + Georgevitch and Ivan Petrovitch. “Well may he sleep peacefully.” + </p> + <p> + “Natacha sang like an angel,” said Boris, the first orderly, in a + tremulous voice. + </p> + <p> + “Like an angel, Boris Nikolaievitch. But why did she speak of his heart + oppressed? I don’t see that General Trebassof has a heart oppressed, for + my part.” Michael Korsakoff spoke roughly as he drained his glass. + </p> + <p> + “No, that’s so, isn’t it?” agreed the others. + </p> + <p> + “A young girl may wish her father a pleasant sleep, surely!” said Matrena + Petrovna, with a certain good sense. “Natacha has affected us all, has she + not, Feodor?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she made me weep,” declared the general. “But let us have champagne + to cheer us up. Our young friend here will think we are chicken-hearted.” + </p> + <p> + “Never think that,” said Rouletabille. “Mademoiselle has touched me deeply + as well. She is an artist, really a great artist. And a poet.” + </p> + <p> + “He is from Paris; he knows,” said the others. + </p> + <p> + And all drank. + </p> + <p> + Then they talked about music, with great display of knowledge concerning + things operatic. First one, then another went to the piano and ran through + some motif that the rest hummed a little first, then shouted in a rousing + chorus. Then they drank more, amid a perfect fracas of talk and laughter. + Ivan Petrovitch and Athanase Georgevitch walked across and kissed the + general. Rouletabille saw all around him great children who amused + themselves with unbelievable naivete and who drank in a fashion more + unbelievable still. Matrena Petrovna smoked cigarettes of yellow tobacco + incessantly, rising almost continually to make a hurried round of the + rooms, and after having prompted the servants to greater watchfulness, sat + and looked long at Rouletabille, who did not stir, but caught every word, + every gesture of each one there. Finally, sighing, she sat down by Feodor + and asked how his leg felt. Michael and Natacha, in a corner, were deep in + conversation, and Boris watched them with obvious impatience, still + strumming the guzla. But the thing that struck Rouletabille’s youthful + imagination beyond all else was the mild face of the general. He had not + imagined the terrible Trebassof with so paternal and sympathetic an + expression. The Paris papers had printed redoubtable pictures of him, more + or less authentic, but the arts of photography and engraving had cut + vigorous, rough features of an official—who knew no pity. Such + pictures were in perfect accord with the idea one naturally had of the + dominating figure of the government at Moscow, the man who, during eight + days—the Red Week—had made so many corpses of students and + workmen that the halls of the University and the factories had opened + their doors since in vain. The dead would have had to arise for those + places to be peopled! Days of terrible battle where in one quarter or + another of the city there was naught but massacre or burnings, until + Matrena Petrovna and her step-daughter, Natacha (all the papers told of + it), had fallen on their knees before the general and begged terms for the + last of the revolutionaries, at bay in the Presnia quarter, and had been + refused by him. “War is war,” had been his answer, with irrefutable logic. + “How can you ask mercy for these men who never give it?” Be it said for + the young men of the barricades that they never surrendered, and equally + be it said for Trebassof that he necessarily shot them. “If I had only + myself to consider,” the general had said to a Paris journalist, “I could + have been gentle as a lamb with these unfortunates, and so I should not + now myself be condemned to death. After all, I fail to see what they + reproach me with. I have served my master as a brave and loyal subject, no + more, and, after the fighting, I have let others ferret out the children + that had hidden under their mothers’ skirts. Everybody talks of the + repression of Moscow, but let us speak, my friend, of the Commune. There + was a piece of work I would not have done, to massacre within a court an + unresisting crowd of men, women and children. I am a rough and faithful + soldier of His Majesty, but I am not a monster, and I have the feelings of + a husband and father, my dear monsieur. Tell your readers that, if you + care to, and do not surmise further about whether I appear to regret being + condemned to death.” + </p> + <p> + Certainly what stupefied Rouletabille now was this staunch figure of the + condemned man who appeared so tranquilly to enjoy his life. When the + general was not furthering the gayety of his friends he was talking with + his wife and daughter, who adored him and continually fondled him, and he + seemed perfectly happy. With his enormous grizzly mustache, his ruddy + color, his keen, piercing eyes, he looked the typical spoiled father. + </p> + <p> + The reporter studied all these widely-different types and made his + observations while pretending to a ravenous appetite, which served, + moreover, to fix him in the good graces of his hosts of the datcha des + Iles. But, in reality, he passed the food to an enormous bull-dog under + the table, in whose good graces he was also thus firmly planting himself. + As Trebassof had prayed his companions to let his young friend satisfy his + ravening hunger in peace, they did not concern themselves to entertain + him. Then, too, the music served to distract attention from him, and at a + moment somewhat later, when Matrena Petrovna turned to speak to the young + man, she was frightened at not seeing him. Where had he gone? She went out + into the veranda and looked. She did not dare to call. She walked into the + grand-salon and saw the reporter just as he came out of the sitting-room. + </p> + <p> + “Where were you?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + “The sitting-room is certainly charming, and decorated exquisitely,” + complimented Rouletabille. “It seems almost a boudoir.” + </p> + <p> + “It does serve as a boudoir for my step-daughter, whose bedroom opens + directly from it; you see the door there. It is simply for the present + that the luncheon table is set there, because for some time the police + have pre-empted the veranda.” + </p> + <p> + “Is your dog a watch-dog, madame?” asked Rouletabille, caressing the + beast, which had followed him. + </p> + <p> + “Khor is faithful and had guarded us well hitherto.” + </p> + <p> + “He sleeps now, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Koupriane has him shut in the lodge to keep him from barking nights. + Koupriane fears that if he is out he will devour one of the police who + watch in the garden at night. I wanted him to sleep in the house, or by + his master’s door, or even at the foot of the bed, but Koupriane said, + ‘No, no; no dog. Don’t rely on the dog. Nothing is more dangerous than to + rely on the dog. ‘Since then he has kept Khor locked up at night. But I do + not understand Koupriane’s idea.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Koupriane is right,” said the reporter. “Dogs are useful only + against strangers.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” gasped the poor woman, dropping her eyes. “Koupriane certainly knows + his business; he thinks of everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Come,” she added rapidly, as though to hide her disquiet, “do not go out + like that without letting me know. They want you in the dining-room.” + </p> + <p> + “I must have you tell me right now about this attempt.” + </p> + <p> + “In the dining-room, in the dining-room. In spite of myself,” she said in + a low voice, “it is stronger than I am. I am not able to leave the general + by himself while he is on the ground-floor.” + </p> + <p> + She drew Rouletabille into the dining-room, where the gentlemen were now + telling odd stories of street robberies amid loud laughter. Natacha was + still talking with Michael Korsakoff; Boris, whose eyes never quitted + them, was as pale as the wax on his guzla, which he rattled violently from + time to time. Matrena made Rouletabille sit in a corner of the sofa, near + her, and, counting on her fingers like a careful housewife who does not + wish to overlook anything in her domestic calculations, she said: + </p> + <p> + “There have been three attempts; the first two in Moscow. The first + happened very simply. The general knew he had been condemned to death. + They had delivered to him at the palace in the afternoon the + revoluntionary poster which proclaimed his intended fate to the whole city + and country. So Feodor, who was just about to ride into the city, + dismissed his escort. He ordered horses put to a sleigh. I trembled and + asked what he was going to do. He said he was going to drive quietly + through all parts of the city, in order to show the Muscovites that a + governor appointed according to law by the Little Father and who had in + his conscience only the sense that he had done his full duty was not to be + intimidated. It was nearly four o’clock, toward the end of a winter day + that had been clear and bright, but very cold. I wrapped myself in my furs + and took my seat beside him, and he said, ‘This is fine, Matrena; this + will have a great effect on these imbeciles.’ So we started. At first we + drove along the Naberjnaia. The sleigh glided like the wind. The general + hit the driver a heavy blow in the back, crying, ‘Slower, fool; they will + think we are afraid,’ and so the horses were almost walking when, passing + behind the Church of Protection and intercession, we reached the Place + Rouge. Until then the few passers-by had looked at us, and as they + recognized him, hurried along to keep him in view. At the Place Rouge + there was only a little knot of women kneeling before the Virgin. As soon + as these women saw us and recognized the equipage of the Governor, they + dispersed like a flock of crows, with frightened cries. Feodor laughed so + hard that as we passed under the vault of the Virgin his laugh seemed to + shake the stones. I felt reassured, monsieur. Our promenade continued + without any remarkable incident. The city was almost deserted. Everything + lay prostrated under the awful blow of that battle in the street. Feodor + said, ‘Ah, they give me a wide berth; they do not know how much I love + them,” and all through that promenade he said many more charming and + delicate things to me. + </p> + <p> + “As we were talking pleasantly under our furs we came to la Place + Koudrinsky, la rue Koudrinsky, to be exact. It was just four o’clock, and + a light mist had commenced to mix with the sifting snow, and the houses to + right and left were visible only as masses of shadow. We glided over the + snow like a boat along the river in foggy calm. Then, suddenly, we heard + piercing cries and saw shadows of soldiers rushing around, with movements + that looked larger than human through the mist; their short whips looked + enormous as they knocked some other shadows that we saw down like logs. + The general stopped the sleigh and got out to see what was going on. I got + out with him. They were soldiers of the famous Semenowsky regiment, who + had two prisoners, a young man and a child. The child was being beaten on + the nape of the neck. It writhed on the ground and cried in torment. It + couldn’t have been more than nine years old. The other, the young man, + held himself up and marched along without a single cry as the thongs fell + brutally upon him. I was appalled. I did not give my husband time to open + his mouth before I called to the subaltern who commanded the detachment, + ‘You should be ashamed to strike a child and a Christian like that, which + cannot defend itself.’ The general told him the same thing. Then the + subaltern told us that the little child had just killed a lieutenant in + the street by firing a revolver, which he showed us, and it was the + biggest one I ever have seen, and must have been as heavy for that infant + to lift as a small cannon. It was unbelievable. + </p> + <p> + “‘And the other,’ demanded the general; ‘what has he done?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘He is a dangerous student,’ replied the subaltern, ‘who has delivered + himself up as a prisoner because he promised the landlord of the house + where he lives that he would do it to keep the house from being battered + down with cannon.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘But that is right of him. Why do you beat him?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Because he has told us he is a dangerous student.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘That is no reason,’ Feodor told him. ‘He will be shot if he deserves it, + and the child also, but I forbid you to beat him. You have not been + furnished with these whips in order to beat isolated prisoners, but to + charge the crowd when it does not obey the governor’s orders. In such a + case you are ordered “Charge,” and you know what to do. You understand?’ + Feodor said roughly. ‘I am General Trebassof, your governor.’ + </p> + <p> + “Feodor was thoroughly human in saying this. Ah, well, he was badly + compensed for it, very badly, I tell you. The student was truly dangerous, + because he had no sooner heard my husband say, ‘I am General Trebassof, + your governor,’ than he cried, ‘Ah, is it you, Trebassoff’ and drew a + revolver from no one knows where and fired straight at the general, almost + against his breast. But the general was not hit, happily, nor I either, + who was by him and had thrown myself onto the student to disarm him and + then was tossed about at the feet of the soldiers in the battle they waged + around the student while the revolver was going off. Three soldiers were + killed. You can understand that the others were furious. They raised me + with many excuses and, all together, set to kicking the student in the + loins and striking at him as he lay on the ground. The subaltern struck + his face a blow that might have blinded him. Feodor hit the officer in the + head with his fist and called, ‘Didn’t you hear what I said?’ The officer + fell under the blow and Feodor himself carried him to the sleigh and laid + him with the dead men. Then he took charge of the soldiers and led them to + the barracks. I followed, as a sort of after-guard. We returned to the + palace an hour later. It was quite dark by then, and almost at the + entrance to the palace we were shot at by a group of revolutionaries who + passed swiftly in two sleighs and disappeared in the darkness so fast that + they could not be overtaken. I had a ball in my toque. The general had not + been touched this time either, but our furs were ruined by the blood of + the dead soldiers which they had forgotten to clean out of the sleigh. + That was the first attempt, which meant little enough, after all, because + it was fighting in the open. It was some days later that they commenced to + try assassination.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Ermolai brought in four bottles of champagne and Thaddeus + struck lightly on the piano. + </p> + <p> + “Quickly, madame, the second attempt,” said Rouletabille, who was aking + hasty notes on his cuff, never ceasing, meanwhile, to watch the convivial + group and listening with both ears wide open to Matrena. + </p> + <p> + “The second happened still in Moscow. We had had a jolly dinner because we + thought that at last the good old days were back and good citizens could + live in peace; and Boris had tried out the guzla singing songs of the Orel + country to please me; he is so fine and sympathetic. Natacha had gone + somewhere or other. The sleigh was waiting at the door and we went out and + got in. Almost instantly there was a fearful noise, and we were thrown out + into the snow, both the general and me. There remained no trace of sleigh + or coachman; the two horses were disemboweled, two magnificent piebald + horses, my dear young monsieur, that the general was so attached to. As to + Feodor, he had that serious wound in his right leg; the calf was + shattered. I simply had my shoulder a little wrenched, practically + nothing. The bomb had been placed under the seat of the unhappy coachman, + whose hat alone we found, in a pool of blood. From that attack the general + lay two months in bed. In the second month they arrested two servants who + were caught one night on the landing leading to the upper floor, where + they had no business, and after that I sent at once for our old domestics + in Orel to come and serve us. It was discovered that these detected + servants were in touch with the revolutionaries, so they were hanged. The + Emperor appointed a provisional governor, and now that the general was + better we decided on a convalescence for him in the midi of France. We + took train for St. Petersburg, but the journey started high fever in my + husband and reopened the wound in his calf. The doctors ordered absolute + rest and so we settled here in the datcha des Iles. Since then, not a day + has passed without the general receiving an anonymous letter telling him + that nothing can save him from the revenge of the revolutionaries. He is + brave and only smiles over them, but for me, I know well that so long as + we are in Russia we have not a moment’s security. So I watch him every + minute and let no one approach him except his intimate friends and us of + the family. I have brought an old gniagnia who watched me grow up, + Ermolai, and the Orel servants. In the meantime, two months later, the + third attempt suddenly occurred. It is certainly of them all the most + frightening, because it is so mysterious, a mystery that has not yet, + alas, been solved.” + </p> + <p> + But Athanase Georgevitch had told a “good story” which raised so much + hubbub that nothing else could be heard. Feodor Feodorovitch was so amused + that he had tears in his eyes. Rouletabille said to himself as Matrena + talked, “I never have seen men so gay, and yet they know perfectly they + are apt to be blown up all together any moment.” + </p> + <p> + General Trebassof, who had steadily watched Rouletabille, who, for that + matter, had been kept in eye by everyone there, said: + </p> + <p> + “Eh, eh, monsieur le journaliste, you find us very gay?” + </p> + <p> + “I find you very brave,” said Rouletabille quietly. + </p> + <p> + “How is that?” said Feodor Feodorovitch, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “You must pardon me for thinking of the things that you seem to have + forgotten entirely.” + </p> + <p> + He indicated the general’s wounded leg. + </p> + <p> + “The chances of war! the chances of war!” said the general. “A leg here, + an arm there. But, as you see, I am still here. They will end by growing + tired and leaving me in peace. Your health, my friend!” + </p> + <p> + “Your health, general!” + </p> + <p> + “You understand,” continued Feodor Feodorovitch, “there is no occasion to + excite ourselves. It is our business to defend the empire at the peril of + our lives. We find that quite natural, and there is no occasion to think + of it. I have had terrors enough in other directions, not to speak of the + terrors of love, that are more ferocious than you can yet imagine. Look at + what they did to my poor friend the Chief of the Surete, Boichlikoff. He + was commendable certainly. There was a brave man. Of an evening, when his + work was over, he always left the bureau of the prefecture and went to + join his wife and children in their apartment in the ruelle des Loups. Not + a soldier! No guard! The others had every chance. One evening a score of + revolutionaries, after having driven away the terrorized servants, mounted + to his apartments. He was dining with his family. They knocked and he + opened the door. He saw who they were, and tried to speak. They gave him + no time. Before his wife and children, mad with terror and on their knees + before the revolutionaries, they read him his death-sentence. A fine end + that to a dinner!” + </p> + <p> + As he listened Rouletabille paled and he kept his eyes on the door as if + he expected to see it open of itself, giving access to ferocious Nihilists + of whom one, with a paper in his hand, would read the sentence of death to + Feodor Feodorovitch. Rouletabille’s stomach was not yet seasoned to such + stories. He almost regretted, momentarily, having taken the terrible + responsibility of dismissing the police. After what Koupriane had confided + to him of things that had happened in this house, he had not hesitated to + risk everything on that audacious decision, but all the same, all the same—these + stories of Nihilists who appear at the end of a meal, death-sentence in + hand, they haunted him, they upset him. Certainly it had been a piece of + foolhardiness to dismiss the police! + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he asked, conquering his misgivings and resuming, as always, his + confidence in himself, “then, what did they do then, after reading the + sentence?” + </p> + <p> + “The Chief of the Surete knew he had no time to spare. He did not ask for + it. The revolutionaries ordered him to bid his family farewell. He raised + his wife, his children, clasped them, bade them be of good courage, then + said he was ready. They took him into the street. They stood him against a + wall. His wife and children watched from a window. A volley sounded. They + descended to secure the body, pierced with twenty-five bullets.” + </p> + <p> + “That was exactly the number of wounds that were made on the body of + little Jacques Zloriksky,” came in the even tones of Natacha. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you, you always find an excuse,” grumbled the general. “Poor + Boichlikoff did his duty, as I did mine. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, papa, you acted like a soldier. That is what the revolutionaries + ought not to forget. But have no fears for us, papa; because if they kill + you we will all die with you.” + </p> + <p> + “And gayly too,” declared Athanase Georgevitch. + </p> + <p> + “They should come this evening. We are in form!” + </p> + <p> + Upon which Athanase filled the glasses again. + </p> + <p> + “None the less, permit me to say,” ventured the timber-merchant, Thaddeus + Tchnitchnikof, timidly, “permit me to say that this Boichlikoff was very + imprudent.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed, very gravely imprudent,” agreed Rouletabille. “When a man + has had twenty-five good bullets shot into the body of a child, he ought + certainly to keep his home well guarded if he wishes to dine in peace.” + </p> + <p> + He stammered a little toward the end of this, because it occurred to him + that it was a little inconsistent to express such opinions, seeing what he + had done with the guard over the general. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” cried Athanase Georgevitch, in a stage-struck voice, “Ah, it was not + imprudence! It was contempt of death! Yes, it was contempt of death that + killed him! Even as the contempt of death keeps us, at this moment, in + perfect health. To you, ladies and gentlemen! Do you know anything + lovelier, grander, in the world than contempt of death? Gaze on Feodor + Feodorovitch and answer me. Superb! My word, superb! To you all! The + revolutionaries who are not of the police are of the same mind regarding + our heroes. They may curse the tchinownicks who execute the terrible + orders given them by those higher up, but those who are not of the police + (there are some, I believe)—these surely recognize that men like the + Chief of the Surete our dead friend, are brave.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” endorsed the general. “Counting all things, they need more + heroism for a promenade in a salon than a soldier on a battle-field.” + </p> + <p> + “I have met some of these men,” continued Athanase in exalted vein. “I + have found in all their homes the same—imprudence, as our young + French friend calls it. A few days after the assassination of the Chief of + Police in Moscow I was received by his successor in the same place where + the assassination had occurred. He did not take the slightest precaution + with me, whom he did not know at all, nor with men of the middle class who + came to present their petitions, in spite of the fact that it was under + precisely identical conditions that his predecessor had been slain. Before + I left I looked over to where on the floor there had so recently occurred + such agony. They had placed a rug there and on the rug a table, and on + that table there was a book. Guess what book. ‘Women’s Stockings,’ by + Willy! And—and then—Your health, Matrena Petrovna. What’s the + odds!” + </p> + <p> + “You yourselves, my friends,” declared the general, “prove your great + courage by coming to share the hours that remain of my life with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, not at all! It is war.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is war.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there’s no occasion to pat us on the shoulder, Athanase,” insisted + Thaddeus modestly. “What risk do we run? We are well guarded.” + </p> + <p> + “We are protected by the finger of God,” declared Athanase, “because the + police—well, I haven’t any confidence in the police.” + </p> + <p> + Michael Korsakoff, who had been for a turn in the garden, entered during + the remark. + </p> + <p> + “Be happy, then, Athanase Georgevitch,” said he, “for there are now no + police around the villa.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are they?” inquired the timber-merchant uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “An order came from Koupriane to remove them,” explained Matrena Petrovna, + who exerted herself to appear calm. + </p> + <p> + “And are they not replaced?” asked Michael. + </p> + <p> + “No. It is incomprehensible. There must have been some confusion in the + orders given.” And Matrena reddened, for she loathed a lie and it was in + tribulation of spirit that she used this fable under Rouletabille’s + directions. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, all the better,” said the general. “It will give me pleasure to + see my home ridded for a while of such people.” + </p> + <p> + Athanase was naturally of the same mind as the general, and when Thaddeus + and Ivan Petrovitch and the orderlies offered to pass the night at the + villa and take the place of the absent police, Feodor Feodorovitch caught + a gesture from Rouletabille which disapproved the idea of this new guard. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” cried the general emphatically. “You leave at the usual time. I + want now to get back into the ordinary run of things, my word! To live as + everyone else does. We shall be all right. Koupriane and I have arranged + the matter. Koupriane is less sure of his men, after all, than I am of my + servants. You understand me. I do not need to explain further. You will go + home to bed—and we will all sleep. Those are the orders. Besides, + you must remember that the guard-post is only a step from here, at the + corner of the road, and we have only to give a signal to bring them all + here. But—more secret agents or special police—no, no! + Good-night. All of us to bed now!” + </p> + <p> + They did not insist further. When Feodor had said, “Those are the orders,” + there was room for nothing more, not even in the way of polite insistence. + </p> + <p> + But before going to their beds all went into the veranda, where liqueurs + were served by the brave Ermolai, as always. Matrena pushed the + wheel-chair of the general there, and he kept repeating, “No, no. No more + such people. No more police. They only bring trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Feodor! Feodor!” sighed Matrena, whose anxiety deepened in spite of all + she could do, “they watched over your dear life.” + </p> + <p> + “Life is dear to me only because of you, Matrena Petrovna.” + </p> + <p> + “And not at all because of me, papa?” said Natacha. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Natacha!” + </p> + <p> + He took both her hands in his. It was an affecting glimpse of family + intimacy. + </p> + <p> + From time to time, while Ermolai poured the liqueurs, Feodor struck his + band on the coverings over his leg. + </p> + <p> + “It gets better,” said he. “It gets better.” + </p> + <p> + Then melancholy showed in his rugged face, and he watched night deepen + over the isles, the golden night of St. Petersburg. It was not quite yet + the time of year for what they call the golden nights there, the “white + nights,” nights which never deepen to darkness, but they were already + beautiful in their soft clarity, caressed, here by the Gulf of Finland, + almost at the same time by the last and the first rays of the sun, by + twilight and dawn. + </p> + <p> + From the height of the veranda one of the most beautiful bits of the isles + lay in view, and the hour was so lovely that its charm thrilled these + people, of whom several, as Thaddeus, were still close to nature. It was + he, first, who called to Natacha: + </p> + <p> + “Natacha! Natacha! Sing us your ‘Soir des Iles.’” + </p> + <p> + Natacha’s voice floated out upon the peace of the islands under the dim + arched sky, light and clear as a night rose, and the guzla of Boris + accompanied it. Natacha sang: + </p> + <p> + “This is the night of the Isles—at the north of the world. The sky + presses in its stainless arms the bosom of earth, Night kisses the rose + that dawn gave to the twilight. And the night air is sweet and fresh from + across the shivering gulf, Like the breath of young girls from the world + still farther north. Beneath the two lighted horizons, sinking and rising + at once, The sun rolls rebounding from the gods at the north of the world. + In this moment, beloved, when in the clear shadows of this rose-stained + evening I am here alone with you, Respond, respond with a heart less timid + to the holy, accustomed cry of ‘Good-evening.’” + </p> + <p> + Ah, how Boris Nikolaievitch and Michael Korsakoff watched her as she sang! + Truly, no one ever can guess the anger or the love that broods in a Slavic + heart under a soldier’s tunic, whether the soldier wisely plays at the + guzla, as the correct Boris, or merely lounges, twirling his mustache with + his manicured and perfumed fingers, like Michael, the indifferent. + </p> + <p> + Natacha ceased singing, but all seemed to be listening to her still—the + convivial group on the terrace appeared to be held in charmed attention, + and the porcelain statuettes of men on the lawn, according to the mode of + the Iles, seemed to lift on their short legs the better to hear pass the + sighing harmony of Natacha in the rose nights at the north of the world. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Matrena wandered through the house from cellar to attic, + watching over her husband like a dog on guard, ready to bite, to throw + itself in the way of danger, to receive the blows, to die for its master—and + hunting for Rouletabille, who had disappeared again. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. THE WATCH + </h2> + <p> + She went out to caution the servants to a strict watch, armed to the + teeth, before the gate all night long, and she crossed the deserted + garden. Under the veranda the schwitzar was spreading a mattress for + Ermolai. She asked him if he had seen the young Frenchman anywhere, and + after the answer, could only say to herself, “Where is he, then?” Where + had Rouletabille gone? The general, whom she had carried up to his room on + her back, without any help, and had helped into bed without assistance, + was disturbed by this singular disappearance. Had someone already carried + off “their” Rouletabille? Their friends were gone and the orderlies had + taken leave without being able to say where this boy of a journalist had + gone. But it would be foolish to worry about the disappearance of a + Journalist, they had said. That kind of man—these journalists—came, + went, arrived when one least expected them, and quitted their company—even + the highest society—without formality. It was what they called in + France “leaving English fashion.” However, it appeared it was not meant to + be impolite. Perhaps he had gone to telegraph. A journalist had to keep in + touch with the telegraph at all hours. Poor Matrena Petrovna roamed the + solitary garden in tumult of heart. There was the light in the general’s + window on the first floor. There were lights in the basement from the + kitchens. There was a light on the ground-floor near the sitting-room, + from Natacha’s chamber window. Ah, the night was hard to bear. And this + night the shadows weighed heavier than ever on the valiant breast of + Matrena. As she breathed she felt as though she lifted all the weight of + the threatening night. She examined everything—everything. All was + shut tight, was perfectly secure, and there was no one within excepting + people she was absolutely sure of—but whom, all the same, she did + not allow to go anywhere in the house excepting where their work called + them. Each in his place. That made things surer. She wished each one could + remain fixed like the porcelain statues of men out on the lawn. Even as + she thought it, here at her feet, right at her very feet, a shadow of one + of the porcelain men moved, stretched itself out, rose to its knees, + grasped her skirt and spoke in the voice of Rouletabille. Ah, good! it was + Rouletabille. “Himself, dear madame; himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is Ermolai in the veranda? Send him back to the kitchens and tell the + schwitzar to go to bed. The servants are enough for an ordinary guard + outside. Then you go in at once, shut the door, and don’t concern yourself + about me, dear madame. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille had resumed, in the shadows, among the other porcelain + figures, his pose of a porcelain man. + </p> + <p> + Matrena Petrovna did as she was told, returned to the house, spoke to the + schwitzar, who removed to the lodge with Ermolai, and their mistress + closed the outside door. She had closed long before the door of the + kitchen stair which allowed the domestics to enter the villa from below. + Down there each night the devoted gniagnia and the faithful Ermolai + watched in turn. + </p> + <p> + Within the villa, now closed, there were on the ground-floor only Matrena + herself and her step-daughter Natacha, who slept in the chamber off the + sitting-room, and, above on the first floor, the general asleep, or who + ought to be asleep if he had taken his potion. Matrena remained in the + darkness of the drawing-room, her dark-lantern in her hand. All her nights + passed thus, gliding from door to door, from chamber to chamber, watching + over the watch of the police, not daring to stop her stealthy promenade + even to throw herself on the mattress that she had placed across the + doorway of her husband’s chamber. Did she ever sleep? She herself could + hardly say. Who else could, then? A tag of sleep here and there, over the + arm of a chair, or leaning against the wall, waked always by some noise + that she heard or dreamed, some warning, perhaps, that she alone had + heard. And to-night, to-night there is Rouletabille’s alert guard to help + her, and she feels a little less the aching terror of watchfulness, until + there surges back into her mind the recollection that the police are no + longer there. Was he right, this young man? Certainly she could not deny + that some way she feels more confidence now that the police are gone. She + does not have to spend her time watching their shadows in the shadows, + searching the darkness, the arm-chairs, the sofas, to rouse them, to + appeal in low tones to all they held binding, by their own name and the + name of their father, to promise them a bonus that would amount to + something if they watched well, to count them in order to know where they + all were, and, suddenly, to throw full in their face the ray of light from + her little dark-lantern in order to be sure, absolutely sure, that she was + face to face with them, one of the police, and not with some other, some + other with an infernal machine under his arm. Yes, she surely had less + work now that she had no longer to watch the police. And she had less + fear! + </p> + <p> + She thanked the young reporter for that. Where was he? Did he remain in + the pose of a porcelain statue all this time out there on the lawn? She + peered through the lattice of the veranda shutters and looked anxiously + out into the darkened garden. Where could he be? Was that he, down yonder, + that crouching black heap with an unlighted pipe in his mouth? No, no. + That, she knew well, was the dwarf she genuinely loved, her little + domovoi-doukh, the familiar spirit of the house, who watched with her over + the general’s life and thanks to whom serious injury had not yet befallen + Feodor Feodorovitch—one could not regard a mangled leg that + seriously. Ordinarily in her own country (she was from the Orel district) + one did not care to see the domovoi-doukh appear in flesh and blood. When + she was little she was always afraid that she would come upon him around a + turn of the path in her father’s garden. She always thought of him as no + higher than that, seated back on his haunches and smoking his pipe. Then, + after she was married, she had suddenly run across him at a turning in the + bazaar at Moscow. He was just as she had imagined him, and she had + immediately bought him, carried him home herself and placed him, with many + precautions, for he was of very delicate porcelain, in the vestibule of + the palace. And in leaving Moscow she had been careful not to leave him + there. She had carried him herself in a case and had placed him herself on + the lawn of the datcha des Iles, that he might continue to watch over her + happiness and over the life of her Feodor. And in order that he should not + be bored, eternally smoking his pipe all alone, she had surrounded him + with a group of little porcelain genii, after the fashion of the Jardins + des Iles. Lord! how that young Frenchman had frightened her, rising + suddenly like that, without warning, on the lawn. She had believed for a + moment that it was the domovoi-doukh himself rising to stretch his legs. + Happily he had spoken at once and she had recognized his voice. And + besides, her domovoi surely would not speak French. Ah! Matrena Petrovna + breathed freely now. It seemed to her, this night, that there were two + little familiar genii watching over the house. And that was worth more + than all the police in the world, surely. How wily that little fellow was + to order all those men away. There was something it was necessary to know; + it was necessary therefore that nothing should be in the way of learning + it. As things were now, the mystery could operate without suspicion or + interference. Only one man watched it, and he had not the air of watching. + Certainly Rouletabille had not the air of constantly watching anything. He + had the manner, out in the night, of an easy little man in porcelain, + neither more nor less, yet he could see everything—if anything were + there to see—and he could hear everything—if there were + anything to hear. One passed beside him without suspecting him, and men + might talk to each other without an idea that he heard them, and even talk + to themselves according to the habit people have sometimes when they think + themselves quite alone. All the guests had departed thus, passing close by + him, almost brushing him, had exchanged their “Adieus,” their “Au + revoirs,” and all their final, drawn-out farewells. That dear little + living domovoi certainly was a rogue! Oh, that dear little domovoi who had + been so affected by the tears of Matrena Petrovna! The good, fat, + sentimental, heroic woman longed to hear, just then, his reassuring voice. + </p> + <p> + “It is I. Here I am,” said the voice of her little living familiar spirit + at that instant, and she felt her skirt grasped. She waited for what he + should say. She felt no fear. Yet she had supposed he was outside the + house. Still, after all, she was not too astonished that he was within. He + was so adroit! He had entered behind her, in the shadow of her skirts, on + all-fours, and had slipped away without anyone noticing him, while she was + speaking to her enormous, majestic schwitzar. + </p> + <p> + “So you were here?” she said, taking his hand and pressing it nervously in + hers. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. I have watched you closing the house. It is a task well-done, + certainly. You have not forgotten anything.” + </p> + <p> + “But where were you, dear little demon? I have been into all the corners, + and my hands did not touch you.” + </p> + <p> + “I was under the table set with hors-d’oeuvres in the sitting-room.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, under the table of zakouskis! I have forbidden them before now to + spread a long hanging cloth there, which obliges me to kick my foot + underneath casually in order to be sure there is no one beneath. It is + imprudent, very imprudent, such table-cloths. And under the table of + zakouskis have you been able to see or hear anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, do you think that anyone could possibly see or hear anything in + the villa when you are watching it alone, when the general is asleep and + your step-daughter is preparing for bed?” + </p> + <p> + “No. No. I do not believe so. I do not. No, oh, Christ!” + </p> + <p> + They talked thus very low in the dark, both seated in a corner of the + sofa, Rouletabille’s hand held tightly in the burning hands of Matrena + Petrovna. + </p> + <p> + She sighed anxiously. “And in the garden—have you heard anything?” + </p> + <p> + “I heard the officer Boris say to the officer Michael, in French, ‘Shall + we return at once to the villa?’ The other replied in Russian in a way I + could see was a refusal. Then they had a discussion in Russian which I, + naturally, could not understand. But from the way they talked I gathered + that they disagreed and that no love was lost between them.” + </p> + <p> + “No, they do not love each other. They both love Natacha.” + </p> + <p> + “And she, which one of them does she love? It is necessary to tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “She pretends that she loves Boris, and I believe she does, and yet she is + very friendly with Michael and often she goes into nooks and corners to + chat with him, which makes Boris mad with jealousy. She has forbidden + Boris to speak to her father about their marriage, on the pretext that she + does not wish to leave her father now, while each day, each minute the + general’s life is in danger.” + </p> + <p> + “And you, madame—do you love your step-daughter?” brutally inquired + the reporter. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—sincerely,” replied Matrena Petrovna, withdrawing her hand from + those of Rouletabille. + </p> + <p> + “And she—does she love you?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe so, monsieur, I believe so sincerely. Yes, she loves me, and + there is not any reason why she should not love me. I believe—understand + me thoroughly, because it comes from my heart—that we all here in + this house love one another. Our friends are old proved friends. Boris has + been orderly to my husband for a very long time. We do not share any of + his too-modern ideas, and there were many discussions on the duty of + soldiers at the time of the massacres. I reproached him with being as + womanish as we were in going down on his knees to the general behind + Natacha and me, when it became necessary to kill all those poor moujiks of + Presnia. It was not his role. A soldier is a soldier. My husband raised + him roughly and ordered him, for his pains, to march at the head of the + troops. It was right. What else could he do? The general already had + enough to fight against, with the whole revolution, with his conscience, + with the natural pity in his heart of a brave man, and with the tears and + insupportable moanings, at such a moment, of his daughter and his wife. + Boris understood and obeyed him, but, after the death of the poor + students, he behaved again like a woman in composing those verses on the + heroes of the barricades; don’t you think so? Verses that Natacha and he + learned by heart, working together, when they were surprised at it by the + general. There was a terrible scene. It was before the next-to-the-last + attack. The general then had the use of both legs. He stamped his feet and + fairly shook the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said Rouletabille, “a propos of the attacks, you must tell me + about the third.” + </p> + <p> + As he said this, leaning toward her, Matrena Petrovna ejaculated a + “Listen!” that made him rigid in the night with ear alert. What had she + heard? For him, he had heard nothing. + </p> + <p> + “You hear nothing?” she whispered to him with an effort. “A tick-tack?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I hear nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “You know—like the tick-tack of a clock. Listen.” + </p> + <p> + “How can you hear the tick-tack? I’ve noticed that no clocks are running + here.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you understand? It is so that we shall be able to hear the + tick-tack better.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I understand. But I do not hear anything.” + </p> + <p> + “For myself, I think I hear the tick-tack all the time since the last + attempt. It haunts my ears, it is frightful, to say to one’s self: There + is clockwork somewhere, just about to reach the death-tick—and not + to know where, not to know where! When the police were here I made them + all listen, and I was not sure even when they had all listened and said + there was no tick-tack. It is terrible to hear it in my ear any moment + when I least expect it. Tick-tack! Tick-tack! It is the blood beating in + my ear, for instance, hard, as if it struck on a sounding-board. Why, here + are drops of perspiration on my hands! Listen!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, this time someone is talking—is crying,” said the young man. + </p> + <p> + “Sh-h-h!” And Rouletabille felt the rigid hand of Matrena Petrovna on his + arm. “It is the general. The general is dreaming!” + </p> + <p> + She drew him into the dining-room, into a corner where they could no + longer hear the moanings. But all the doors that communicated with the + dining-room, the drawing-room and the sitting-room remained open behind + him, by the secret precaution of Rouletabille. + </p> + <p> + He waited while Matrena, whose breath he heard come hard, was a little + behind. In a moment, quite talkative, and as though she wished to distract + Rouletabille’s attention from the sounds above, the broken words and + sighs, she continued: + </p> + <p> + “See, you speak of clocks. My husband has a watch which strikes. Well, I + have stopped his watch because more than once I have been startled by + hearing the tick-tack of his watch in his waistcoat-pocket. Koupriane gave + me that advice one day when he was here and had pricked his ears at the + noise of the pendulums, to stop all my watches and clocks so that there + would be no chance of confusing them with the tick-tack that might come + from an infernal machine planted in some corner. He spoke from experience, + my dear little monsieur, and it was by his order that all the clocks at + the Ministry, on the Naberjnaia, were stopped, my dear little friend. The + Nihilists, he told me, often use clockworks to set off their machines at + the time they decide on. No one can guess all the inventions that they + have, those brigands. In the same way, Koupriane advised me to take away + all the draught-boards from the fireplaces. By that precaution they were + enabled to avoid a terrible disaster at the Ministry near the + Pont-des-chantres, you know, petit demovoi? They saw a bomb just as it was + being lowered into the fire-place of the minister’s cabinet.* The + Nihilists held it by a cord and were up on the roof letting it down the + chimney. One of them was caught, taken to Schlusselbourg and hanged. Here + you can see that all the draught-boards of the fireplaces are cleared + away.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + *Actual attack on Witte. +</pre> + <p> + “Madame,” interrupted Rouletabille (Matrena Petrovna did not know that no + one ever succeeded in distracting Rouletabille’s attention), “madame, + someone moans still, upstairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that is nothing, my little friend. It is the general, who has bad + nights. He cannot sleep without a narcotic, and that gives him a fever. I + am going to tell you now how the third attack came about. And then you + will understand, by the Virgin Mary, how it is I have yet, always have, + the tick-tack in my ears. + </p> + <p> + “One evening when the general had got to sleep and I was in my own room, I + heard distinctly the tick-tack of clockwork operating. All the clocks had + been stopped, as Koupriane advised, and I had made an excuse to send + Feodor’s great watch to the repairer. You can understand how I felt when I + heard that tick-tack. I was frenzied. I turned my head in all directions, + and decided that the sound came from my husband’s chamber. I ran there. He + still slept, man that he is! The tick-tack was there. But where? I turned + here and there like a fool. The chamber was in darkness and it seemed + absolutely impossible for me to light a lamp because I thought I could not + take the time for fear the infernal machine would go off in those few + seconds. I threw myself on the floor and listened under the bed. The noise + came from above. But where? I sprang to the fireplace, hoping that, + against my orders, someone had started the mantel-clock. No, it was not + that! It seemed to me now that the tick-tack came from the bed itself, + that the machine was in the bed. The general awaked just then and cried to + me, ‘What is it, Matrena? What are you doing?’ And he raised himself in + bed, while I cried, ‘Listen! Hear the tick-tack. Don’t you hear the + tick-tack?’ I threw myself upon him and gathered him up in my arms to + carry him, but I trembled too much, was too weak from fear, and fell back + with him onto the bed, crying, ‘Help!’ He thrust me away and said roughly, + ‘Listen.’ The frightful tick-tack was behind us now, on the table. But + there was nothing on the table, only the night-light, the glass with the + potion in it, and a gold vase where I had placed with my own hands that + morning a cluster of grasses and wild flowers that Ermolai had brought + that morning on his return from the Orel country. With one bound I was on + the table and at the flowers. I struck my fingers among the grasses and + the flowers, and felt a resistance. The tick-tack was in the bouquet! I + took the bouquet in both hands, opened the window and threw it as far as I + could into the garden. At the same moment the bomb burst with a terrible + noise, giving me quite a deep wound in the hand. Truly, my dear little + domovoi, that day we had been very near death, but God and the Little + Father watched over us.” + </p> + <p> + And Matrena Petrovna made the sign of the cross. + </p> + <p> + “All the windows of the house were broken. In all, we escaped with the + fright and a visit from the glazier, my little friend, but I certainly + believed that all was over.” + </p> + <p> + “And Mademoiselle Natacha?” inquired Rouletabille. “She must also have + been terribly frightened, because the whole house must have rocked.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely. But Natacha was not here that night. It was a Saturday. She had + been invited to the soiree du ‘Michel’ by the parents of Boris + Nikolaievitch, and she slept at their house, after supper at the Ours, as + had been planned. The next day, when she learned the danger the general + had escaped, she trembled in every limb. She threw herself in her father’s + arms, weeping, which was natural enough, and declared that she never would + go away from him again. The general told her how I had managed. Then she + pressed me to her heart, saying that she never would forget such an + action, and that she loved me more than if I were truly her mother. It was + all in vain that during the days following we sought to understand how the + infernal machine had been placed in the bouquet of wild flowers. Only the + general’s friends that you saw this evening, Natacha and I had entered the + general’s chamber during the day or in the evening. No servant, no + chamber-maid, had been on that floor. In the day-time as well as all night + long that entire floor is closed and I have the keys. The door of the + servants’ staircase which opens onto that floor, directly into the + general’s chamber, is always locked and barred on the inside with iron. + Natacha and I do the chamber work. There is no way of taking greater + precautions. Three police agents watched over us night and day. The night + of the bouquet two had spent their time watching around the house, and the + third lay on the sofa in the veranda. Then, too, we found all the doors + and windows of the villa shut tight. In such circumstances you can judge + whether my anguish was not deeper than any I had known hitherto. Because + to whom, henceforth, could we trust ourselves? what and whom could we + believe? what and whom could we watch? From that day, no other person but + Natacha and me have the right to go to the first floor. The general’s + chamber was forbidden to his friends. Anyway, the general improved, and + soon had the pleasure of receiving them himself at his table. I carry the + general down and take him to his room again on my back. I do not wish + anyone to help. I am strong enough for that. I feel that I could carry him + to the end of the world if that would save him. Instead of three police, + we had ten; five outside, five inside. The days went well enough, but the + nights were frightful, because the shadows of the police that I + encountered always made me fear that I was face to face with the + Nihilists. One night I almost strangled one with my hand. It was after + that incident that we arranged with Koupriane that the agents who watched + at night, inside, should stay placed in the veranda, after having, at the + end of the evening, made complete examination of everything. They were not + to leave the veranda unless they heard a suspicious noise or I called to + them. And it was after that arrangement that the incident of the floor + happened, that has puzzled so both Koupriane and me.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon, madame,” interrupted Rouletabille, “but the agents, during the + examination of everything, never went to the bedroom floor?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my child, there is only myself and Natacha, I repeat, who, since the + bouquet, go there.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, madame, it is necessary to take me there at once.” + </p> + <p> + “At once!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, into the general’s chamber.” + </p> + <p> + “But he is sleeping, my child. Let me tell you exactly how the affair of + the floor happened, and you will know as much of it as I and as + Koupriane.” + </p> + <p> + “To the general’s chamber at once.” + </p> + <p> + She took both his hands and pressed them nervously. “Little friend! Little + friend! One hears there sometimes things which are the secret of the + night! You understand me?” + </p> + <p> + “To the general’s chamber, at once, madame.” + </p> + <p> + Abruptly she decided to take him there, agitated, upset as she was by + ideas and sentiments which held her without respite between the wildest + inquietude and the most imprudent audacity. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. “THE YOUTH OF MOSCOW IS DEAD” + </h2> + <p> + Rouletabille let himself be led by Matrena through the night, but he + stumbled and his awkward hands struck against various things. The ascent + to the first floor was accomplished in profound silence. Nothing broke it + except that restless moaning which had so affected the young man just + before. + </p> + <p> + The tepid warmth, the perfume of a woman’s boudoir, then, beyond, through + two doors opening upon the dressing-room which lay between Matrena’s + chamber and Feodor’s, the dim luster of a night-lamp showed the bed where + was stretched the sleeping tyrant of Moscow. Ah, he was frightening to + see, with the play of faint yellow light and diffused shadows upon him. + Such heavy-arched eyebrows, such an aspect of pain and menace, the massive + jaw of a savage come from the plains of Tartary to be the Scourge of God, + the stiff, thick, spreading beard. This was a form akin to the gallery of + old nobles at Kasan, and young Rouletabille imagined him as none other + than Ivan the Terrible himself. Thus appeared as he slept the excellent + Feodor Feodorovitch, the easy, spoiled father of the family table, the + friend of the advocate celebrated for his feats with knife and fork and of + the bantering timber-merchant and amiable bear-hunter, the joyous Thaddeus + and Athanase; Feodor, the faithful spouse of Matrena Petrovna and the + adored papa of Natacha, a brave man who was so unfortunate as to have + nights of cruel sleeplessness or dreams more frightful still. + </p> + <p> + At that moment a hoarse sigh heaved his huge chest in an uneven rhythm, + and Rouletabille, leaning in the doorway of the dressing-room, watched—but + it was no longer the general that he watched, it was something else, lower + down, beside the wall, near the door, and it was that which set him + tiptoeing so lightly across the floor that it gave no sound. There was no + slightest sound in the chamber, except the heavy breathing lifting the + rough chest. Behind Rouletabille Matrena raised her arms, as though she + wished to hold him back, because she did not know where he was going. What + was he doing? Why did he stoop thus beside the door and why did he press + his thumb all along the floor at the doorway? He rose again and returned. + He passed again before the bed, where rumbled now, like the bellows of a + forge, the respiration of the sleeper. Matrena grasped Rouletabille by the + hand. And she had already hurried him into the dressing-room when a moan + stopped them. + </p> + <p> + “The youth of Moscow is dead!” + </p> + <p> + It was the sleeper speaking. The mouth which had given the stringent + orders moaned. And the lamentation was still a menace. In the haunted + sleep thrust upon that man by the inadequate narcotic the words Feodor + Feodorovitch spoke were words of mourning and pity. This perfect fiend of + a soldier, whom neither bullets nor bombs could intimidate, had a way of + saying words which transformed their meaning as they came from his + terrible mouth. The listeners could not but feel absorbed in the tones of + the brutal victor. + </p> + <p> + Matrena Petrovna and Rouletabille had leant their two shadows, blended one + into the other, against the open doorway just beyond the gleam of the + night-lamp, and they heard with horror: + </p> + <p> + “The youth of Moscow is dead! They have cleared away the corpses. There is + nothing but ruin left. The Kremlin itself has shut its gates—that it + may not see. The youth of Moscow is dead!” + </p> + <p> + Feodor Feodorovitch’s fist shook above his bed; it seemed that he was + about to strike, to kill again, and Rouletabille felt Matrena trembling + against him, while he trembled as well before the fearful vision of the + killer in the Red Week! + </p> + <p> + Feodor heaved an immense sigh and his breast descended under the + bed-clothes, the fist relaxed and fell, the great head lay over on its + ear. There was silence. Had he repose at last? No, no. He sighed, he + choked anew, he tossed on his couch like the damned in torment, and the + words written by his daughter—by his daughter—blazed in his + eyes, which now were wide open—words written on the wall, that he + read on the wall, written in blood. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The youth of Moscow is dead! They had gone so young into the + fields and into the mines, + And they had not found a single corner of the Russian land where + there were not moanings. + Now the youth of Moscow is dead and no more moanings are heard, + Because those for whom all youth died do not dare even to moan + any more. +</pre> + <p> + But—what? The voice of Feodor lost its threatening tone. His breath + came as from a weeping child. And it was with sobs in his throat that he + said the last verse, the verse written by his daughter in the album, in + red letters: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The last barricade had standing there the girl of eighteen + winters, the virgin of Moscow, flower of the snow. + Who gave her kisses to the workmen struck by the bullets + from the soldiers of the Czar; + “She aroused the admiration of the very soldiers who, weeping, + killed her: + “What killing! All the houses shuttered, the windows with heavy + eyelids of plank in order not to see!— + “And the Kremlin itself has closed its gates—that it may + not see. + “The youth of Moscow is dead!” + </pre> + <p> + “Feodor! Feodor!” + </p> + <p> + She had caught him in her arms, holding him fast, comforting him while + still he raved, “The youth of Moscow is dead,” and appeared to thrust away + with insensate gestures a crowd of phantoms. She crushed him to her + breast, she put her hands over his mouth to make him stop, but he, saying, + “Do you hear? Do you hear? What do they say? They say nothing, now. What a + tangle of bodies under the sleigh, Matrena! Look at those frozen legs of + those poor girls we pass, sticking out in all directions, like logs, from + under their icy, blooded skirts. Look, Matrena!” + </p> + <p> + And then came further delirium uttered in Russian, which was all the more + terrible to Rouletabille because he could not comprehend it. + </p> + <p> + Then, suddenly, Feodor became silent and thrust away Matrena Petrovna. + </p> + <p> + “It is that abominable narcotic,” he said with an immense sigh. “I’ll + drink no more of it. I do not wish to drink it.” + </p> + <p> + With one hand he pointed to a large glass on the table beside him, still + half full of a soporific mixture with which he moistened his lips each + time he woke; with the other hand he wiped the perspiration from his face. + Matrena Petrovna stayed trembling near him, suddenly overpowered by the + idea that he might discover there was someone there behind the door, who + had seen and heard the sleep of General Trebassof! Ah, if he learned that, + everything was over. She might say her prayers; she should die. + </p> + <p> + But Rouletabille was careful to give no sign. He barely breathed. What a + nightmare! He understood now the emotion of the general’s friends when + Natacha had sung in her low, sweet voice, “Good-night. May your eyes have + rest from tears and calm re-enter your heart oppressed.” The friends had + certainly been made aware, by Matrena’s anxious talking, of the general’s + insomnia, and they could not repress their tears as they listened to the + poetic wish of charming Natacha. “All the same,” thought Rouletabille, “no + one could imagine what I have just seen. They are not dead for everyone in + the world, the youths of Moscow, and every night I know now a chamber + where in the glow of the night-lamp they rise—they rise—they + rise!” and the young man frankly, naively regretted to have intruded where + he was; to have penetrated, however unintentionally, into an affair which, + after all, concerned only the many dead and the one living. Why had he + come to put himself between the dead and the living? It might be said to + him: “The living has done his whole heroic duty,” but the dead, what else + was it that they had done? + </p> + <p> + Ah, Rouletabille cursed his curiosity, for—he saw it now—it + was the desire to approach the mystery revealed by Koupriane and to + penetrate once more, through all the besetting dangers, an astounding and + perhaps monstrous enigma, that had brought him to the threshold of the + datcha des Iles, which had placed him in the trembling hands of Matrena + Petrovna in promising her his help. He had shown pity, certainly, pity for + the delirious distress of that heroic woman. But there had been more + curiosity than pity in his motives. And now he must pay, because it was + too late now to withdraw, to say casually, “I wash my hands of it.” He had + sent away the police and he alone remained between the general and the + vengeance of the dead! He might desert, perhaps! That one idea brought him + to himself, roused all his spirit. Circumstances had brought him into a + camp that he must defend at any cost, unless he was afraid! + </p> + <p> + The general slept now, or, at least, with eyelids closed simulated sleep, + doubtless in order to reassure poor Matrena who, on her knees beside his + pillow, had retained the hand of her terrible husband in her own. Shortly + she rose and rejoined Rouletabille in her chamber. She took him then to a + little guest-chamber where she urged him to get some sleep. He replied + that it was she who needed rest. But, agitated still by what had just + happened, she babbled: + </p> + <p> + “No, no! after such a scene I would have nightmares myself as well. Ah, it + is dreadful! Appalling! Appalling! Dear little monsieur, it is the secret + of the night. The poor man! Poor unhappy man! He cannot tear his thoughts + away from it. It is his worst and unmerited punishment, this translation + that Natacha has made of Boris’s abominable verses. He knows them by + heart, they are in his brain and on his tongue all night long, in spite of + narcotics, and he says over and over again all the time, ‘It is my + daughter who has written that!—my daughter!—my daughter!’ It + is enough to wring all the tears from one’s body—that an aide-de-camp + of a general, who himself has killed the youth of Moscow, is allowed to + write such verses and that Natacha should take it upon herself to + translate them into lovely poetic French for her album. It is hard to + account for what they do nowadays, to our misery.” + </p> + <p> + She ceased, for just then they heard the floor creak under a step + downstairs. Rouletabille stopped Matrena short and drew his revolver. He + wished to creep down alone, but he had not time. As the floor creaked a + second time, Matrena’s anguished voice called down the staircase in + Russian, “Who is there?” and immediately the calm voice of Natacha + answered something in the same language. Then Matrena, trembling more and + more, and very much excited keeping steadily to the same place as though + she had been nailed to the step of the stairway, said in French, “Yes, all + is well; your father is resting. Good-night, Natacha.” They heard + Natacha’s step cross the drawing-room and the sitting-room. Then the door + of her chamber closed. Matrena and Rouletabille descended, holding their + breath. They reached the dining-room and Matrena played her dark-lantern + on the sofa where the general always reclined. The sofa was in its usual + place on the carpet. She pushed it back and raised the carpet, laying the + floor bare. Then she got onto her knees and examined the floor minutely. + She rose, wiping the perspiration from her brow, put the carpet hack in + place, adjusted the sofa and dropped upon it with a great sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” demanded Rouletabille. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing at all,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you call so openly?” + </p> + <p> + “Because there was no doubt that it could only be my step-daughter on the + ground-floor at that hour.” + </p> + <p> + “And why this anxiety to examine the floor again?” + </p> + <p> + “I entreat you, my dear little child, do not see in my acts anything + mysterious, anything hard to explain. That anxiety you speak of never + leaves me. Whenever I have the chance I examine the flooring.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” demanded the young man, “what was your daughter doing in this + room?” + </p> + <p> + “She came for a glass of mineral water; the bottle is still on the table.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, it is necessary that you tell me precisely what Koupriane has + only hinted to me, unless I am entirely mistaken. The first time that you + thought to examine the floor, was it after you heard a noise on the + ground-floor such as has just happened?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I will tell you all that is necessary. It was the night after the + attempt with the bouquet, my dear little monsieur, my dear little domovoi; + it seemed to me I heard a noise on the ground-floor. I hurried downstairs + and saw nothing suspicious at first. Everything was shut tight. I opened + the door of Natacha’s chamber softly. I wished to ask her if she had heard + anything. But she was so fast asleep that I had not the heart to awaken + her. I opened the door of the veranda, and all the police—all, you + understand—slept soundly. I took another turn around the furniture, + and, with my lantern in my hand, I was just going out of the dining-room + when I noticed that the carpet on the floor was disarranged at one corner. + I got down and my hand struck a great fold of carpet near the general’s + sofa. You would have said that the sofa had been rolled carelessly, trying + to replace it in the position it usually occupied. Prompted by a sinister + presentiment, I pushed away the sofa and I lifted the carpet. At first + glance I saw nothing, but when I examined things closer I saw that a strip + of wood did not lie well with the others on the floor. With a knife I was + able to lift that strip and I found that two nails which had fastened it + to the beam below had been freshly pulled out. It was just so I could + raise the end of the board a little without being able to slip my hand + under. To lift it any more it would be necessary to pull at least + half-a-dozen nails. What could it mean? Was I on the point of discovering + some new terrible and mysterious plan? I let the board fall back into + place. I spread the carpet back again carefully, put the sofa in its + place, and in the morning sent for Koupriane.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “You had not, madame, spoken to anyone of this discovery?” + </p> + <p> + “To no one.” + </p> + <p> + “Not even to your step-daughter?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the husky voice of Matrena, “not even to my step-daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” demanded Rouletabille. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” replied Matrena, after a moment’s hesitation, “there were + already enough frightening things about the house. I would not have spoken + to my daughter any more than I would have said a word to the general. Why + add to the disquiet they already suffered so much, in case nothing + developed?” + </p> + <p> + “And what did Koupriane say?” + </p> + <p> + “We examined the floor together, secretly. Koupriane slipped his hand + under more easily than I had done, and ascertained that under the board, + that is to say between the beam and the ceiling of the kitchen, there was + a hollow where any number of things might be placed. For the moment the + board was still too little released for any maneuver to be possible. + Koupriane, when he rose, said to me, ‘You have happened, madame, to + interrupt the person in her operations. But we are prepared henceforth. We + know what she does and she is unaware that we know. Act as though you had + not noticed anything; do not speak of it to anyone whatever—and + watch. Let the general continue to sit in his usual place and let no one + suspect that we have discovered the beginnings of this attempt. It is the + only way we can plan so that they will continue. All the same,’ he added, + ‘I will give my agents orders to patrol the ground-floor anew during the + night. I would be risking too much to let the person continue her work + each night. She might continue it so well that she would be able to + accomplish it—you understand me? But by day you arrange that the + rooms on the ground-floor be free from time to time—not for long, + but from time to time.’ I don’t know why, but what he said and the way he + said it frightened me more than ever. However, I carried out his program. + Then, three days later, about eight o’clock, when the night watch was not + yet started, that is to say at the moment when the police were still all + out in the garden or walking around the house, outside, and when I had + left the the ground-floor perfectly free while I helped the general to + bed, I felt drawn even against myself suddenly to the dining-room. I + lifted the carpet and examined the floor. Three more nails had been drawn + from the board, which lifted more easily now, and under it, I could see + that the normal cavity had been made wider still!” + </p> + <p> + When she had said this, Matrena stopped, as if, overcome, she could not + tell more. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” insisted Rouletabille. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I replaced things as I found them and made rapid inquiries of the + police and their chief; no one had entered the ground-floor. You + understand me?—no one at all. Neither had anyone come out from it.” + </p> + <p> + “How could anyone come out if no one had entered?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to say,” said she with a sob, “that Natacha during this space of + time had been in her chamber, in her chamber on the ground-floor.” + </p> + <p> + “You appear to be very disturbed, madame, at this recollection. Can you + tell me further, and precisely, why you are agitated?” + </p> + <p> + “You understand me, surely,” she said, shaking her head. + </p> + <p> + “If I understand you correctly, I have to understand that from the + previous time you examined the floor until the time that you noted three + more nails drawn out, no other person could have entered the dining-room + but you and your step-daughter Natacha.” + </p> + <p> + Matrena took Rouletabille’s hand as though she had reached an important + decision. + </p> + <p> + “My little friend,” moaned she, “there are things I am not able to think + about and which I can no longer entertain when Natacha embraces me. It is + a mystery more frightful than all else. Koupriane tells me that he is + sure, absolutely sure, of the agents he kept here; my sole consolation, do + you see, my little friend can tell you frankly, now that you have sent + away those men—my sole consolation since that day has been that + Koupriane is less sure of his men than I am of Natacha.” + </p> + <p> + She broke down and sobbed. + </p> + <p> + When she was calmed, she looked for Rouletabille, and could not find him. + Then she wiped her eyes, picked up her dark-lantern, and, furtively, crept + to her post beside the general. + </p> + <p> + For that day these are the points in Rouletabille’s notebook: + </p> + <p> + “Topography: Villa surrounded by a large garden on three sides. The fourth + side gives directly onto a wooded field that stretches to the river Neva. + On this side the level of the ground is much lower, so low that the sole + window opening in that wall (the window of Natacha’s sitting-room on the + ground-floor) is as high from the ground as though it were on the next + floor in any other part of the house. This window is closed by iron + shutters, fastened inside by a bar of iron. + </p> + <p> + “Friends: Athanase Georgevitch, Ivan Petrovitch, Thaddeus the + timber-merchant (peat boots), Michael and Boris (fine shoes). Matrena, + sincere love, blundering heroism. Natacha unknown. Against Natacha: Never + there during the attacks. At Moscow at the time of the bomb in the sleigh, + no one knows where she was, and it is she who should have accompanied the + general (detail furnished by Koupriane that Matrena generously kept back). + The night of the bouquet is the only night Natacha has slept away from the + house. Coincidence of the disappearance of the nails and the presence all + alone on the ground-floor of Natacha, in case, of course, Matrena did not + pull them out herself. For Natacha: Her eyes when she looks at her + father.” + </p> + <p> + And this bizarre phrase: + </p> + <p> + “We mustn’t be rash. This evening I have not yet spoken to Matrena + Petrovna about the little hat-pin. That little hat-pin is the greatest + relief of my life.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. BY ROULETABILLE’S ORDER THE GENERAL PROMENADES + </h2> + <p> + “Good morning, my dear little familiar spirit. The general slept + splendidly the latter part of the night. He did not touch his narcotic. I + am sure it is that dreadful mixture that gives him such frightful dreams. + And you, my dear little friend, you have not slept an instant. I know it. + I felt you going everywhere about the house like a little mouse. Ah, it + seems good, so good. I slept so peacefully, hearing the subdued movement + of your little steps. Thanks for the sleep you have given me, little + friend.” + </p> + <p> + Matrena talked on to Rouletabille, whom she had found the morning after + the nightmare tranquilly smoking his pipe in the garden. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ah, you smoke a pipe. Now you do certainly look exactly like a dear + little domovoi-doukh. See how much you are alike. He smokes just like you. + Nothing new, eh? You do not look very bright this morning. You are worn + out. I have just arranged the little guest-chamber for you, the only one + we have, just behind mine. Your bed is waiting for you. Is there anything + you need? Tell me. Everything here is at your service.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not in need of anything, madame,” said the young man smilingly, after + this outpouring of words from the good, heroic dame. + </p> + <p> + “How can you say that, dear child? You will make yourself sick. I want you + to understand that I wish you to rest. I want to be a mother to you, if + you please, and you must obey me, my child. Have you had breakfast yet + this morning? If you do not have breakfast promptly mornings, I will think + you are annoyed. I am so annoyed that you have heard the secret of the + night. I have been afraid that you would want to leave at once and for + good, and that you would have mistaken ideas about the general. There is + not a better man in the world than Feodor, and he must have a good, a very + good conscience to dare, without fail, to perform such terrible duties as + those at Moscow, when he is so good at heart. These things are easy enough + for wicked people, but for good men, for good men who can reason it out, + who know what they do and that they are condemned to death into the + bargain, it is terrible, it is terrible! Why, I told him the moment things + began to go wrong in Moscow, ‘You know what to expect, Feodor. Here is a + dreadful time to get through—make out you are sick.’ I believed he + was going to strike me, to kill me on the spot. ‘I! Betray the Emperor in + such a moment! His Majesty, to whom I owe everything! What are you + thinking of, Matrena Petrovna!’ And he did not speak to me after that for + two days. It was only when he saw I was growing very ill that he pardoned + me, but he had to be plagued with my jeremiads and the appealing looks of + Natacha without end in his own home each time we heard any shooting in the + street. Natacha attended the lectures of the Faculty, you know. And she + knew many of them, and even some of those who were being killed on the + barricades. Ah, life was not easy for him in his own home, the poor + general! Besides, there was also Boris, whom I love as well, for that + matter, as my own child, because I shall be very happy to see him married + to Natacha—there was poor Boris who always came home from the + attacks paler than a corpse and who could not keep from moaning with us.” + </p> + <p> + “And Michael?” questioned Rouletabille. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Michael only came towards the last. He is a new orderly to the + general. The government at St. Petersburg sent him, because of course they + couldn’t help learning that Boris rather lacked zeal in repressing the + students and did not encourage the general in being as severe as was + necessary for the safety of the Empire. But Michael, he has a heart of + stone; he knows nothing but the countersign and massacres fathers and + mothers, crying, ‘Vive le Tsar!’ Truly, it seems his heart can only be + touched by the sight of Natacha. And that again has caused a good deal of + anxiety to Feodor and me. It has caught us in a useless complication that + we would have liked to end by the prompt marriage of Natacha and Boris. + But Natacha, to our great surprise, has not wished it to be so. No, she + has not wished it, saying that there is always time to think of her + wedding and that she is in no hurry to leave us. Meantime she entertains + herself with this Michael as if she did not fear his passion, and neither + has Michael the desperate air of a man who knows the definite engagement + of Natacha and Boris. And my step-daughter is not a coquette. No, no. No + one can say she is a coquette. At least, no one had been able to say it up + to the time that Michael arrived. Can it be that she is a coquette? They + are mysterious, these young girls, very mysterious, above all when they + have that calm and tranquil look that Natacha always has; a face, + monsieur, as you have noticed perhaps, whose beauty is rather passive + whatever one says and does, excepting when the volleys in the streets kill + her young comrades of the schools. Then I have seen her almost faint, + which proves she has a great heart under her tranquil beauty. Poor + Natacha! I have seen her excited as I over the life of her father. My + little friend, I have seen her searching in the middle of the night, with + me, for infernal machines under the furniture, and then she has expressed + the opinion that it is nervous, childish, unworthy of us to act like that, + like timid beasts under the sofas, and she has left me to search by + myself. True, she never quits the general. She is more reassured, and is + reassuring to him, at his side. It has an excellent moral effect on him, + while I walk about and search like a beast. And she has become as + fatalistic as he, and now she sings verses to the guzla, like Boris, or + talks in corners with Michael, which makes the two enraged each with the + other. They are curious, the young women of St. Petersburg and Moscow, + very curious. We were not like that in our time, at Orel. We did not try + to enrage people. We would have received a box on the ears if we had.” + </p> + <p> + Natacha came in upon this conversation, happy, in white voile, fresh and + smiling like a girl who had passed an excellent night. She asked after the + health of the young man very prettily and embraced Matrena, in truth as + one embraces a much-beloved mother. She complained again of Matrena’s + night-watch. + </p> + <p> + “You have not stopped it, mamma; you have not stopped it, eh? You are not + going to be a little reasonable at last? I beg of you! What has given me + such a mother! Why don’t you sleep? Night is made for sleep. Koupriane has + upset you. All the terrible things are over in Moscow. There is no + occasion to think of them any more. That Koupriane makes himself important + with his police-agents and obsesses us all. I am convinced that the affair + of the bouquet was the work of his police.” + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” said Rouletabille, “I have just had them all sent away, + all of them—because I think very much the same as you do.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, you will be my friend, Monsieur Rouletabille I promise you, + since you have done that. Now that the police are gone we have nothing + more to fear. Nothing. I tell you, mamma; you can believe me and not weep + any more, mamma dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; kiss me. Kiss me again!” repeated Matrena, drying her eyes. + “When you kiss me I forget everything. You love me like your own mother, + don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Like my mother. Like my own mother.” + </p> + <p> + “You have nothing to hide from me?—tell me, Natacha.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing to hide.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why do you make Boris suffer so? Why don’t you marry him?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I don’t wish to leave you, mamma dear.” + </p> + <p> + She escaped further parley by jumping up on the garden edge away from + Khor, who had just been set free for the day. + </p> + <p> + “The dear child,” said Matrena; “the dear little one, she little knows how + much pain she has caused us without being aware of it, by her ideas, her + extravagant ideas. Her father said to me one day at Moscow, ‘Matrena + Petrovna, I’ll tell you what I think—Natacha is the victim of the + wicked books that have turned the brains of all these poor rebellious + students. Yes, yes; it would be better for her and for us if she did not + know how to read, for there are moments—my word!—when she + talks very wildly, and I have said to myself more than once that with such + ideas her place is not in our salon hut behind a barricade. All the same,’ + he added after reflection, ‘I prefer to find her in the salon where I can + embrace her than behind a barricade where I would kill her like a mad + dog.’ But my husband, dear little monsieur, did not say what he really + thinks, for he loves his daughter more than all the rest of the world put + together, and there are things that even a general, yes, even a + governor-general, would not be able to do without violating both divine + and human laws. He suspects Boris also of setting Natacha’s wits awry. We + really have to consider that when they are married they will read + everything they have a mind to. My husband has much more real respect for + Michael Korsakoff because of his impregnable character and his granite + conscience. More than once he has said, ‘Here is the aide I should have + had in the worst days of Moscow. He would have spared me much of the + individual pain.’ I can understand how that would please the general, but + how such a tigerish nature succeeds in appealing to Natacha, how it + succeeds in not actually revolting her, these young girls of the capital, + one never can tell about them—they get away from all your notions of + them.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille inquired: + </p> + <p> + “Why did Boris say to Michael, ‘We will return together’? Do they live + together?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, in the small villa on the Krestowsky Ostrov, the isle across from + ours, that you can see from the window of the sitting-room. Boris chose it + because of that. The orderlies wished to have camp-beds prepared for them + right here in the general’s house, by a natural devotion to him; but I + opposed it, in order to keep them both from Natacha, in whom, of course, I + have the most complete confidence, but one cannot be sure about the + extravagance of men nowadays.” + </p> + <p> + Ermolai came to announce the petit-dejeuner. They found Natacha already at + table and she poured them coffee and milk, eating away all the time at a + sandwich of anchovies and caviare. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, mamma, do you know what gives me such an appetite? It is the + thought of the way poor Koupriane must have taken this dismissal of his + men. I should like to go to see him.” + </p> + <p> + “If you see him,” said Rouletabille, “it is unnecessary to tell him that + the general will go for a long promenade among the isles this afternoon, + because without fail he would send us an escort of gendarmes.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa! A promenade among the islands? Truly? Oh, that is going to be + lovely!” + </p> + <p> + Matrena Petrovna sprang to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Are you mad, my dear little domovoi, actually mad?” + </p> + <p> + “Why? Why? It is fine. I must run and tell papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father’s room is locked,” said Matrena brusquely. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; he is locked in. You have the key. Locked away until death! You + will kill him. It will be you who kills him.” + </p> + <p> + She left the table without waiting for a reply and went and shut herself + also in her chamber. + </p> + <p> + Matrena looked at Rouletabille, who continued his breakfast as though + nothing had happened. + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible that you speak seriously?” she demanded, coming over and + sitting down beside him. “A promenade! Without the police, when we have + received again this morning a letter saying now that before forty-eight + hours the general will be dead!” + </p> + <p> + “Forty-eight hours,” said Rouletabille, soaking his bread in his + chocolate, “forty-eight hours? It is possible. In any case, I know they + will try something very soon.” + </p> + <p> + “My God, how is it that you believe that? You speak with assurance.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, it is necessary to do everything I tell you, to the letter.” + </p> + <p> + “But to have the general go out, unless he is guarded—how can you + take such a responsibility? When I think about it, when I really think + about it, I ask myself how you have dared send away the police. But here, + at least, I know what to do in order to feel a little safe, I know that + downstairs with Gniagnia and Ermolai we have nothing to fear. No stranger + can approach even the basement. The provisions are brought from the lodge + by our dvornicks whom we have had sent from my mother’s home in the Orel + country and who are as devoted to us as bull-dogs. Not a bottle of + preserves is taken into the kitchens without having been previously opened + outside. No package comes from any tradesman without being opened in the + lodge. Here, within, we are able to feel a little safe, even without the + police—but away from here—outside!” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, they are going to try to kill your husband within forty-eight + hours. Do you desire me to save him perhaps for a long time—for + good, perhaps?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, listen to him! Listen to him, the dear little domovoi! But what will + Koupriane say? He will not permit any venturing beyond the villa; none, at + least for the moment. Ah, now, how he looks at me, the dear little + domovoi! Oh, well, yes. There, I will do as you wish.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, come into the garden with me.” + </p> + <p> + She accompanied him, leaning on his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s the idea,” said Rouletabille. “This afternoon you will go with the + general in his rolling-chair. Everybody will follow. Everyone, you + understand, Madame—understand me thoroughly, I mean to say that + everyone who wishes to come must be invited to. Only those who wish to + remain behind will do so. And do not insist. Ah, now, I see, you + understand me. Why do you tremble?” + </p> + <p> + “But who will guard the house?” + </p> + <p> + “No one. Simply tell the servant at the lodge to watch from the lodge + those who enter the villa, but simply from the lodge, without interfering + with them, and saying nothing to them, nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “I will do as you wish. Do you want me to announce our promenade + beforehand?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly. Don’t be uneasy; let everybody have the good news.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I will tell only the general and his friends, you may be sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, dear Madame, just one more word. Do not wait for me at luncheon.” + </p> + <p> + “What! You are going to leave us?” she cried instantly, breathless. “No, + no. I do not wish it. I am willing to do without the police, but I am not + willing to do without you. Everything might happen in your absence. + Everything! Everything!” she repeated with singular energy. “Because, for + me, I cannot feel sure as I should, perhaps. Ah, you make me say these + things. Such things! But do not go.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not be afraid; I am not going to leave you, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you are good! You are kind, kind! Caracho! (Very well.)” + </p> + <p> + “I will not leave you. But I must not be at luncheon. If anyone asks where + I am, say that I have my business to look after, and have gone to + interview political personages in the city.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s only one political personage in Russia,” replied Matrena Petrovna + bluntly; “that is the Tsar.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well; say I have gone to interview the Tsar.” + </p> + <p> + “But no one will believe that. And where will you be?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know myself. But I will be about the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, very well, dear little domovoi.” + </p> + <p> + She left him, not knowing what she thought about it all, nor what she + should think—her head was all in a muddle. + </p> + <p> + In the course of the morning Athanase Georgevitch and Thaddeus + Tchnitchnikof arrived. The general was already in the veranda. Michael and + Boris arrived shortly after, and inquired in their turn how he had passed + the night without the police. When they were told that Feodor was going + for a promenade that afternoon they applauded his decision. “Bravo! A + promenade a la strielka (to the head of the island) at the hour when all + St. Petersburg is driving there. That is fine. We will all be there.” The + general made them stay for luncheon. Natacha appeared for the meal, in + rather melancholy mood. A little before luncheon she had held a double + conversation in the garden with Michael and Boris. No one ever could have + known what these three young people had said if some stenographic notes in + Rouletabille’s memorandum-book did not give us a notion; the reporter had + overheard, by accident surely, since all self-respecting reporters are + quite incapable of eavesdropping. + </p> + <p> + The memorandum notes: + </p> + <p> + Natacha went into the garden with a book, which she gave to Boris, who + pressed her hand lingeringly to his lips. “Here is your book; I return it + to you. I don’t want any more of them, the ideas surge so in my brain. It + makes my head ache. It is true, you are right, I don’t love novelties. I + can satisfy myself with Pouchkine perfectly. The rest are all one to me. + Did you pass a good night?” + </p> + <p> + Boris (good-looking young man, about thirty years old, blonde, a little + effeminate, wistful. A curious appurtenance in the military household of + so vigorous a general). “Natacha, there is not an hour that I can call + truly good if I spend it away from you, dear, dear Natacha.” + </p> + <p> + “I ask you seriously if you have passed a good night?” + </p> + <p> + She touched his hand a moment and looked into his eyes, but he shook his + head. + </p> + <p> + “What did you do last night after you reached home?” she demanded + insistently. “Did you stay up?” + </p> + <p> + “I obeyed you; I only sat a half-hour by the window looking over here at + the villa, and then I went to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is necessary you should get your rest. I wish it for you as for + everyone else. This feverish life is impossible. Matrena Petrovna is + getting us all ill, and we shall be prostrated.” + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday,” said Boris, “I looked at the villa for a half-hour from my + window. Dear, dear villa, dear night when I can feel you breathing, living + near me. As if you had been against my heart. I could have wept because I + could hear Michael snoring in his chamber. He seemed happy. At last, I + heard nothing more, there was nothing more to hear but the double chorus + of frogs in the pools of the island. Our pools, Natacha, are like the + enchanted lakes of the Caucasus which are silent by day and sing at + evening; there are innumerable throngs of frogs which sing on the same + chord, some of them on a major and some on a minor. The chorus speaks from + pool to pool, lamenting and moaning across the fields and gardens, and + re-echoing like AEolian harps placed opposite one another.” + </p> + <p> + “Do AEolian harps make so much noise, Boris?” + </p> + <p> + “You laugh? I don’t find you yourself half the time. It is Michael who has + changed you, and I am out of it. (Here they spoke in Russian.) I shall not + be easy until I am your husband. I can’t understand your manner with + Michael at all.” + </p> + <p> + (Here more Russian words which I do not understand.) + </p> + <p> + “Speak French; here is the gardener,” said Natacha. + </p> + <p> + “I do not like the way you are managing our lives. Why do you delay our + marriage? Why?” + </p> + <p> + (Russian words from Natacha. Gesture of desperation from Boris.) + </p> + <p> + “How long? You say a long time? But that says nothing—a long time. + How long? A year? Two years? Ten years? Tell me, or I will kill myself at + your feet. No, no; speak or I will kill Michael. On my word! Like a dog!” + </p> + <p> + “I swear to you, by the dear head of your mother, Boris, that the date of + our marriage does not depend on Michael.” + </p> + <p> + (Some words in Russian. Boris, a little consoled, holds her hand + lingeringly to his lips.) + </p> + <p> + Conversation between Michael and Natacha in the garden: + </p> + <p> + “Well? Have you told him?” + </p> + <p> + “I ended at last by making him understand that there is not any hope. + None. It is necessary to have patience. I have to have it myself.” + </p> + <p> + “He is stupid and provoking.” + </p> + <p> + “Stupid, no. Provoking, yes, if you wish. But you also, you are + provoking.” + </p> + <p> + “Natacha! Natacha!” + </p> + <p> + (Here more Russian.) As Natacha started to leave, Michael placed his hand + on her shoulder, stopped her and said, looking her direct in the eyes: + </p> + <p> + “There will be a letter from Annouchka this evening, by a messenger at + five o’clock.” He made each syllable explicit. “Very important and + requiring an immediate reply.” + </p> + <p> + These notes of Rouletabille’s are not followed by any commentary. + </p> + <p> + After luncheon the gentlemen played poker until half-past four, which is + the “chic” hour for the promenade to the head of the island. Rouletabille + had directed Matrena to start exactly at a quarter to five. He appeared in + the meantime, announcing that he had just interviewed the mayor of St. + Petersburg, which made Athanase laugh, who could not understand that + anyone would come clear from Paris to talk with men like that. Natacha + came from her chamber to join them for the promenade. Her father told her + she looked too worried. + </p> + <p> + They left the villa. Rouletabille noted that the dvornicks were before the + gate and that the schwitzar was at his post, from which he could detect + everyone who might enter or leave the villa. Matrena pushed the + rolling-chair herself. The general was radiant. He had Natacha at his + right and at his left Athanase and Thaddeus. The two orderlies followed, + talking with Rouletabille, who had monopolized them. The conversation + turned on the devotion of Matrena Petrovna, which they placed above the + finest heroic traits in the women of antiquity, and also on Natacha’s love + for her father. Rouletabille made them talk. + </p> + <p> + Boris Mourazoff explained that this exceptional love was accounted for by + the fact that Natacha’s own mother, the general’s first wife, died in + giving birth to their daughter, and accordingly Feodor Feodorovitch had + been both father and mother to his daughter. He had raised her with the + most touching care, not permitting anyone else, when she was sick, to have + the care of passing the nights by her bedside. + </p> + <p> + Natacha was seven years old when Feodor Feodorovitch was appointed + governor of Orel. In the country near Orel, during the summer, the general + and his daughter lived on neighborly terms near the family of old Petroff, + one of the richest fur merchants in Russia. Old Petroff had a daughter, + Matrena, who was magnificent to see, like a beautiful field-flower. She + was always in excellent humor, never spoke ill of anyone in the + neighborhood, and not only had the fine manners of a city dame but a + great, simple heart, which she lavished on the little Natacha. + </p> + <p> + The child returned the affection of the beautiful Matrena, and it was on + seeing them always happy to find themselves together that Trebassof + dreamed of reestablishing his fireside. The nuptials were quickly + arranged, and the child, when she learned that her good Matrena was to wed + her papa, danced with joy. Then misfortune came only a few weeks before + the ceremony. Old Petroff, who speculated on the Exchange for a long time + without anyone knowing anything about it, was ruined from top to bottom. + Matrena came one evening to apprise Feodor Feodorovitch of this sad news + and return his pledge to him. For all response Feodor placed Natacha in + Matrena’s arms. “Embrace your mother,” he said to the child, and to + Matrena, “From to-day I consider you my wife, Matrena Petrovna. You should + obey me in all things. Take that reply to your father and tell him my + purse is at his disposition.” + </p> + <p> + The general was already, at that time, even before he had inherited the + Cheremaieff, immensely rich. He had lands behind Nijni as vast as a + province, and it would have been difficult to count the number of moujiks + who worked for him on his property. Old Pretroff gave his daughter and did + not wish to accept anything in exchange. Feodor wished to settle a large + allowance on his wife; her father opposed that, and Matrena sided with him + in the matter against her husband, because of Natacha. “It all belongs to + the little one,” she insisted. “I accept the position of her mother, but + on the condition that she shall never lose a kopeck of her inheritance.” + </p> + <p> + “So that,” concluded Boris, “if the general died tomorrow she would be + poorer than Job.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the general is Matrena’s sole resource,” reflected Rouletabille + aloud. + </p> + <p> + “I can understand her hanging onto him,” said Michael Korsakoff, blowing + the smoke of his yellow cigarette. “Look at her. She watches him like a + treasure.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, Michael Nikolaievitch?” said Boris, curtly. “You + believe, do you, that the devotion of Matrena Petrovna is not + disinterested. You must know her very poorly to dare utter such a + thought.” + </p> + <p> + “I have never had that thought, Boris Alexandrovitch,” replied the other + in a tone curter still. “To be able to imagine that anyone who lives in + the Trebassofs’ home could have such a thought needs an ass’s head, + surely.” + </p> + <p> + “We will speak of it again, Michael Nikolaievitch.” + </p> + <p> + “At your pleasure, Boris Alexandrovitch.” + </p> + <p> + They had exchanged these latter words tranquilly continuing their walk and + negligently smoking their yellow tobacco. Rouletabille was between them. + He did not regard them; he paid no attention even to their quarrel; he had + eyes only for Natacha, who just now quit her place beside her father’s + wheel-chair and passed by them with a little nod of the head, seeming in + haste to retrace the way back to the villa. + </p> + <p> + “Are you leaving us?” Boris demanded of her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I will rejoin you immediately. I have forgotten my umbrella.” + </p> + <p> + “But I will go and get it for you,” proposed Michael. + </p> + <p> + “No, no. I have to go to the villa; I will return right away.” + </p> + <p> + She was already past them. Rouletabille, during this, looked at Matrena + Petrovna, who looked at him also, turning toward the young man a visage + pale as wax. But no one else noted the emotion of the good Matrena, who + resumed pushing the general’s wheel-chair. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille asked the officers, “Was this arrangement because the first + wife of the general, Natacha’s mother, was rich?” + </p> + <p> + “No. The general, who always had his heart in his hand,” said Boris, + “married her for her great beauty. She was a beautiful girl of the + Caucasus, of excellent family besides, that Feodor Feodorovitch had known + when he was in garrison at Tiflis.” + </p> + <p> + “In short,” said Rouletabille, “the day that General Trebassof dies Madame + Trebassof, who now possesses everything, will have nothing, and the + daughter, who now has nothing, will have everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly that,” said Michael. + </p> + <p> + “That doesn’t keep Matrena Petrovna and Natacha Feodorovna from deeply + loving each other,” observed Boris. + </p> + <p> + The little party drew near the “Point.” So far the promenade had been + along pleasant open country, among the low meadows traversed by fresh + streams, across which tiny bridges had been built, among bright gardens + guarded by porcelain dwarfs, or in the shade of small weeds from the feet + of whose trees the newly-cut grass gave a seasonal fragrance. All was + reflected in the pools—which lay like glass whereon a scene-painter + had cut the green hearts of the pond-lily leaves. An adorable country + glimpse which seemed to have been created centuries back for the amusement + of a queen and preserved, immaculately trimmed and cleaned, from + generation to generation, for the eternal charm of such an hour as this on + the banks of the Gulf of Finland. + </p> + <p> + Now they had reached the bank of the Gulf, and the waves rippled to the + prows of the light ships, which dipped gracefully like huge and rapid + sea-gulls, under the pressure of their great white sails. + </p> + <p> + Along the roadway, broader now, glided, silently and at walking pace, the + double file of luxurious equipages with impatient horses, the open + carriages in which the great personages of the court saw the view and let + themselves be seen. Enormous coachmen held the reins high. Lively young + women, negligently reclining against the cushions, displayed their new + Paris toilettes, and kept young officers on horseback busy with salutes. + There were all kinds of uniforms. No talking was heard. Everyone was kept + busy looking. There rang in the pure, thin air only the noise of the + champing bits and the tintinnabulation of the bells attached to the hairy + Finnish ponies’ collars. And all that, so beautiful, fresh, charming and + clear, and silent, it all seemed more a dream than even that which hung in + the pools, suspended between the crystal of the air and the crystal of the + water. The transparence of the sky and the transparence of the gulf + blended their two unrealities so that one could not note where the + horizons met. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille looked at the view and looked at the general, and in all his + young vibrating soul there was a sense of infinite sadness, for he + recalled those terrible words in the night: “They have gone into all the + corners of the Russian land, and they have not found a single corner of + that land where there are not moanings.” “Well,” thought he, “they have + not come into this corner, apparently. I don’t know anything lovelier or + happier in the world.” No, no, Rouletabille, they have not come here. In + every country there is a corner of happy life, which the poor are ashamed + to approach, which they know nothing of, and of which merely the sight + would turn famished mothers enraged, with their thin bosoms, and, if it is + not more beautiful than that, certainly no part of the earth is made so + atrocious to live in for some, nor so happy for others as in this Scythian + country, the boreal country of the world. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the little group about the general’s rolling-chair had attracted + attention. Some passers-by saluted, and the news spread quickly that + General Trebassof had come for a promenade to “the Point.” Heads turned as + carriages passed; the general, noticing how much excitement his presence + produced, begged Matrena Petrovna to push his chair into an adjacent + by-path, behind a shield of trees where he would be able to enjoy the + spectacle in peace. + </p> + <p> + He was found, nevertheless, by Koupriane, the Chief of Police, who was + looking for him. He had gone to the datcha and been told there that the + general, accompanied by his friends and the young Frenchman, had gone for + a turn along the gulf. Koupriane had left his carriage at the datcha, and + taken the shortest route after them. + </p> + <p> + He was a fine man, large, solid, clear-eyed. His uniform showed his fine + build to advantage. He was generally liked in St. Petersburg, where his + martial bearing and his well-known bravery had given him a sort of + popularity in society, which, on the other hand, had great disdain for + Gounsovski, the head of the Secret Police, who was known to be capable of + anything underhanded and had been accused of sometimes playing into the + hands of the Nihilists, whom he disguised as agents-provocateurs, without + anybody really doubting it, and he had to fight against these widespread + political suspicions. + </p> + <p> + Well-informed men declared that the death of the previous “prime + minister,” who had been blown up before Varsovie station when he was on + his way to the Tsar at Peterhof, was Gounsovski’s work and that in this he + was the instrument of the party at court which had sworn the death of the + minister which inconvenienced it.* On the other hand, everyone regarded + Koupriane as incapable of participating in any such horrors and that he + contented himself with honest performance of his obvious duties, confining + himself to ridding the streets of its troublesome elements, and sending to + Siberia as many as he could of the hot-heads, without lowering himself to + the compromises which, more than once, had given grounds for the enemies + of the empire to maintain that it was difficult to say whether the chiefs + of the Russian police played the part of the law or that of the + revolutionary party, even that the police had been at the end of a certain + time of such mixed procedure hardly able to decide themselves which they + did. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Rumored cause of Plehve’s assassination. +</pre> + <p> + This afternoon Koupriane appeared very nervous. He paid his compliments to + the general, grumbled at his imprudence, praised him for his bravery, and + then at once picked out Rouletabille, whom he took aside to talk to. + </p> + <p> + “You have sent my men back to me,” said he to the young reporter. “You + understand that I do not allow that. They are furious, and quite rightly. + You have given publicly as explanation of their departure—a + departure which has naturally astonished, stupefied the general’s friends—the + suspicion of their possible participation in the last attack. That is + abominable, and I will not permit it. My men have not been trained in the + methods of Gounsovski, and it does them a cruel injury, which I resent, + for that matter, personally, to treat them this way. But let that go, as a + matter of sentiment, and return to the simple fact itself, which proves + your excessive imprudence, not to say more, and which involves you, you + alone, in a responsibility of which you certainly have not measured the + importance. All in all, I consider that you have strangely abused the + complete authority that I gave you upon the Emperor’s orders. When I + learned what you had done I went to find the Tsar, as was my duty, and + told him the whole thing. He was more astonished than can be expressed. He + directed me to go myself to find out just how things were and to furnish + the general the guard you had removed. I arrive at the isles and not only + find the villa open like a mill where anyone may enter, but I am informed, + and then I see, that the general is promenading in the midst of the crowd, + at the mercy of the first miserable venturer. Monsieur Rouletabille, I am + not satisfied. The Tsar is not satisfied. And, within an hour, my men will + return to assume their guard at the datcha.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille listened to the end. No one ever had spoken to him in that + tone. He was red, and as ready to burst as a child’s balloon blown too + hard. He said: + </p> + <p> + “And I will take the train this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “You will go?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and you can guard your general all alone. I have had enough of it. + Ah, you are not satisfied! Ah, the Tsar is not satisfied! It is too bad. + No more of it for me. Monsieur, I am not satisfied, and I say Good-evening + to you. Only do not forget to send me from here every three or four days a + letter which will keep me informed of the health of the general, whom I + love dearly. I will offer up a little prayer for him.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon he was silent, for he caught the glance of Matrena Petrovna, a + glance so desolated, so imploring, so desperate, that the poor woman + inspired him anew with great pity. Natacha had not returned. What was the + young girl doing at that moment? If Matrena really loved Natacha she must + be suffering atrociously. Koupriane spoke; Rouletabille did not hear him, + and he had already forgotten his own anger. His spirit was wrapped in the + mystery. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” Koupriane finished by saying, tugging his sleeve, “do you hear + me? I pray you at least reply to me. I offer all possible excuses for + speaking to you in that tone. I reiterate them. I ask your pardon. I pray + you to explain your conduct, which appeared imprudent to me but which, + after all, should have some reason. I have to explain to the Emperor. Will + you tell me? What ought I to say to the Emperor?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing at all,” said Rouletabille. “I have no explanation to give you or + the Emperor, or to anyone. You can offer him my utmost homage and do me + the kindness to vise my passport for this evening.” + </p> + <p> + And he sighed: + </p> + <p> + “It is too bad, for we were just about to see something interesting.” + </p> + <p> + Koupriane looked at him. Rouletabille had not quitted Matrena Petrovna’s + eyes, and her pallor struck Koupriane. + </p> + <p> + “Just a minute,” continued the young man. “I’m sure there is someone who + will miss me—that brave woman there. Ask her which she prefers, all + your police, or her dear little domovoi. We are good friends already. And—don’t + forget to present my condolences to her when the terrible moment has + come.” + </p> + <p> + It was Koupriane’s turn to be troubled. + </p> + <p> + He coughed and said: + </p> + <p> + “You believe, then, that the general runs a great immediate danger?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not only believe it, monsieur, I am sure of it. His death is a + matter of hours for the poor dear man. Before I go I shall not fail to + tell him, so that he can prepare himself comfortably for the great journey + and ask pardon of the Lord for the rather heavy hand he has laid on these + poor men of Presnia.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Rouletabille, have you discovered something?” + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord, yes, I have discovered something, Monsieur Koupriane. You + don’t suppose I have come so far to waste my time, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Something no one else knows?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Monsieur Koupriane, otherwise I shouldn’t have troubled to feel + concerned. Something I have not confided to anyone, not even to my + note-book, because a note-book, you know, a note-book can always be lost. + I just mention that in case you had any idea of having me searched before + my departure.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Monsieur Rouletabille!” + </p> + <p> + “Eh, eh, like the way the police do in your country; in mine too, for that + matter. Yes, that’s often enough seen. The police, furious because they + can’t hit a clue in some case that interests them, arrest a reporter who + knows more than they do, in order to make him talk. But—nothing of + that sort with me, monsieur. You might have me taken to your famous + ‘Terrible Section,’ I’d not open my mouth, not even in the famous + rocking-chair, not even under the blows of clenched fists.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Rouletabille, what do you take us for? You are the guest of the + Tsar.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I have the word of an honest man. Very well, I will treat you as an + honest man. I will tell you what I have discovered. I don’t wish through + any false pride to keep you in darkness about something which may perhaps—I + say perhaps—permit you to save the general.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me. I am listening.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is perfectly understood that once I have told you this you will + give me my passport and allow me to depart?” + </p> + <p> + “You feel that you couldn’t possibly,” inquired Koupriane, more and more + troubled, and after a moment of hesitation, “you couldn’t possibly tell me + that and yet remain?” + </p> + <p> + “No, monsieur. From the moment you place me under the necessity of + explaining each of my movements and each of my acts, I prefer to go and + leave to you that ‘responsibility’ of which you spoke just now, my dear + Monsieur Koupriane.” + </p> + <p> + Astonished and disquieted by this long conversation between Rouletabille + and the Head of Police, Matrena Petrovna continually turned upon them her + anguished glance, which always insensibly softened as it rested on + Rouletabille. Koupriane read there all the hope that the brave woman had + in the young reporter, and he read also in Rouletabille’s eye all the + extraordinary confidence that the mere boy had in himself. As a last + consideration had he not already something in hand in circumstances where + all the police of the world had admitted themselves vanquished? Koupriane + pressed Rouletabille’s hand and said just one word to him: + </p> + <p> + “Remain.” + </p> + <p> + Having saluted the general and Matrena affectionately, and a group of + friends in one courteous sweep, he departed, with thoughtful brow. + </p> + <p> + During all this time the general, enchanted with the promenade, told + stories of the Caucasus to his friends, believing himself young again and + re-living his nights as sub-lieutenant at Tills. As to Natacha, no one had + seen her. They retraced the way to the villa along deserted by-paths. + Koupriane’s call made occasion for Athanase Georgevitch and Thaddeus, and + the two officers also, to say that he was the only honest man in all the + Russian police, and that Matrena Petrovna was a great woman to have dared + rid herself of the entire clique of agents, who are often more + revolutionary than the Nihilists themselves. Thus they arrived at the + datcha. + </p> + <p> + The general inquired for Natacha, not understanding why she had left him + thus during his first venture out. The schwitzar replied that the young + mistress had returned to the house and had left again about a quarter of + an hour later, taking the way that the party had gone on their promenade, + and he had not seen her since. + </p> + <p> + Boris spoke up: + </p> + <p> + “She must have passed on the other side of the carriages while we were + behind the trees, general, and not seeing us she has gone on her way, + making the round of the island, over as far as the Barque.” + </p> + <p> + The explanation seemed the most plausible one. + </p> + <p> + “Has anyone else been here?” demanded Matrena, forcing her voice to be + calm. Rouletabille saw her hand tremble on the handle of the + rolling-chair, which she had not quitted for a second during all the + promenade, refusing aid from the officers, the friends, and even from + Rouletabille. + </p> + <p> + “First there came the Head of Police, who told me he would go and find + you, Barinia, and right after, His Excellency the Marshal of the Court. + His Excellency will return, although he is very pressed for time, before + he takes the train at seven o’clock for Krasnoie-Coelo.” + </p> + <p> + All this had been said in Russian, naturally, but Matrena translated the + words of the schwitzar into French in a low voice for Rouletabille, who + was near her. The general during this time had taken Rouletabille’s hand + and pressed it affectionately, as if, in that mute way, to thank him for + all the young man had done for them. Feodor himself also had confidence, + and he was grateful for the freer air that he was being allowed to + breathe. It seemed to him that he was emerging from prison. Nevertheless, + as the promenade had been a little fatiguing, Matrena ordered him to go + and rest immediately. Athanase and Thaddeus took their leave. The two + officers were already at the end of the garden, talking coldly, and almost + confronting one another, like wooden soldiers. Without doubt they were + arranging the conditions of an encounter to settle their little difference + at once. + </p> + <p> + The schwitzar gathered the general into his great arms and carried him + into the veranda. Feodor demanded five minutes’ respite before he was + taken upstairs to his chamber. Matrena Petrovna had a light luncheon + brought at his request. In truth, the good woman trembled with impatience + and hardly dared move without consulting Rouletabille’s face. While the + general talked with Ermolai, who passed him his tea, Rouletabille made a + sign to Matrena that she understood at once. She joined the young man in + the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” he said rapidly, in a low voice, “you must go at once to see + what has happened there.” + </p> + <p> + He pointed to the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + “Very well.” + </p> + <p> + It was pitiful to watch her. + </p> + <p> + “Go, madame, with courage.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you come with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, madame, I have something to do elsewhere. Give me the keys of + the next floor.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. What for?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a second’s delay, for the love of Heaven. Do what I tell you on your + side, and let me do mine. The keys! Come, the keys!” + </p> + <p> + He snatched them rather than took them, and pointed a last time to the + dining-room with a gesture so commanding that she did not hesitate + further. She entered the dining-room, shaking, while he bounded to the + upper floor. He was not long. He took only time to open the doors, throw a + glance into the general’s chamber, a single glance, and to return, letting + a cry of joy escape him, borrowed from his new and very limited + accomplishment of Russian, “Caracho!” + </p> + <p> + How Rouletabille, who had not spent half a second examining the general’s + chamber, was able to be certain that all went well on that side, when it + took Matrena—and that how many times a day!—at least a quarter + of an hour of ferreting in all the corners each time she explored her + house before she was even inadequately reassured, was a question. If that + dear heroic woman had been with him during this “instant information” she + would have received such a shock that, with all confidence gone, she would + have sent for Koupriane immediately, and all his agents, reinforced by the + personnel of the Okrana (Secret Police). Rouletabille at once rejoined the + general, whistling. Feodor and Ermolai were deep in conversation about the + Orel country. The young man did not disturb them. Then, soon, Matrena + reappeared. He saw her come in quite radiant. He handed back her keys, and + she took them mechanically. She was overjoyed and did not try to hide it. + The general himself noticed it, and asked what had made her so. + </p> + <p> + “It is my happiness over our first promenade since we arrived at the + datcha des Iles,” she explained. “And now you must go upstairs to bed, + Feodor. You will pass a good night, I am sure.” + </p> + <p> + “I can sleep only if you sleep, Matrena.” + </p> + <p> + “I promise you. It is quite possible now that we have our dear little + domovoi. You know, Feodor, that he smokes his pipe just like the dear + little porcelain domovoi.” + </p> + <p> + “He does resemble him, he certainly does,” said Feodor. “That makes us + feel happy, but I wish him to sleep also.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” smiled Rouletabille, “everybody will sleep here. That is the + countersign. We have watched enough. Since the police are gone we can all + sleep, believe me, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh, eh, I believe you, on my word, easily enough. There were only they in + the house capable of attempting that affair of the bouquet. I have thought + that all out, and now I am at ease. And anyway, whatever happens, it is + necessary to get sleep, isn’t it? The chances of war! Nichevo!” He pressed + Rouletabille’s hand, and Matrena Petrovna took, as was her habit, Feodor + Feodorovitch on her back and lugged him to his chamber. In that also she + refused aid from anyone. The general clung to his wife’s neck during the + ascent and laughed like a child. Rouletabille remained in the hallway, + watching the garden attentively. Ermolai walked out of the villa and + crossed the garden, going to meet a personage in uniform whom the young + man recognized immediately as the grand-marshal of the court, who had + introduced him to the Tsar. Ermolai informed him that Madame Matrena was + engaged in helping her husband retire, and the marshal remained at the end + of the garden where he had found Michael and Boris talking in the kiosque. + All three remained there for some time in conversation, standing by a + table where General and Madame Trebassof sometimes dined when they had no + guests. As they talked the marshal played with a box of white cardboard + tied with a pink string. At this moment Matrena, who had not been able to + resist the desire to talk for a moment with Rouletabille and tell him how + happy she was, rejoined the young man. + </p> + <p> + “Little domovoi,” said she, laying her hand on his shoulder, “you have not + watched on this side?” + </p> + <p> + She pointed in her turn to the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + “No, no. You have seen it, madame, and I am sufficiently informed.” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly. There is nothing. No one has worked there! No one has touched + the board. I knew it. I am sure of it. It is dreadful what we have thought + about it! Oh, you do not know how relieved and happy I am. Ah, Natacha, + Natacha, I have not loved you in vain. (She pronounced these words in + accents of great beauty and tragic sincerity.) When I saw her leave us, my + dear, ah, my legs sank under me. When she said, ‘I have forgotten + something; I must hurry back,’ I felt I had not the strength to go a + single step. But now I certainly am happy, that weight at least is off my + heart, off my heart, dear little domovoi, because of you, because of you.” + </p> + <p> + She embraced him, and then ran away, like one possessed, to resume her + post near the general. + </p> + <p> + Notes in Rouletabille’s memorandum-book: The affair of the little cavity + under the floor not having been touched again proves nothing for or + against Natacha (even though that excellent Matrena Petrovna thinks so). + Natacha could very well have been warned by the too great care with which + Madame Matrena watched the floor. My opinion, since I saw Matrena lift the + carpet the first time without any real precaution, is that they have + definitely abandoned the preparation of that attack and are trying to + account for the secret becoming known. What Matrena feels so sure of is + that the trap I laid by the promenade to the Point was against Natacha + particularly. I knew beforehand that Natacha would absent herself during + the promenade. I’m not looking for anything new from Natacha, but what I + did need was to be sure that Matrena didn’t detest Natacha, and that she + had not faked the preparations for an attack under the floor in such a way + as to throw almost certain suspicion on her step-daughter. I am sure about + that now. Matrena is innocent of such a thing, the poor dear soul. If + Matrena had been a monster the occasion was too good. Natacha’s absence, + her solitary presence for a quarter of an hour in the empty villa, all + would have urged Matrena, whom I sent alone to search under the carpet in + the dining-room, to draw the last nails from the board if she was really + guilty of having drawn the others. Natacha would have been lost then! + Matrena returned sincerely, tragically happy at not having found anything + new, and now I have the material proof that I needed. Morally and + physically Matrena is removed from it. So I am going to speak to her about + the hat-pin. I believe that the matter is urgent on that side rather than + on the side of the nails in the floor. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. THE MYSTERIOUS HAND + </h2> + <p> + After the departure of Matrena, Rouletabille turned his attention to the + garden. Neither the marshal of the court nor the officers were there any + longer. The three men had disappeared. Rouletabille wished to know at once + where they had gone. He went rapidly to the gate, named the officers and + the marshal to Ermolai, and Ermolai made a sign that they had passed out. + Even as he spoke he saw the marshal’s carriage disappear around a corner + of the road. As to the two officers, they were nowhere on the roadway. He + was surprised that the marshal should have gone without seeing Matrena or + the general or himself, and, above all, he was disquieted by the + disappearance of the orderlies. He gathered from the gestures of Ermolai + that they had passed before the lodge only a few minutes after the + marshal’s departure. They had gone together. Rouletabille set himself to + follow them, traced their steps in the soft earth of the roadway and soon + they crossed onto the grass. At this point the tracks through the massed + ferns became very difficult to follow. He hurried along, bending close to + the ground over such traces as he could see, which continually led him + astray, but which conducted him finally to the thing that he sought. A + noise of voices made him raise his head and then throw himself behind a + tree. Not twenty steps from him Natacha and Boris were having an animated + conversation. The young officer held himself erect directly in front of + her, frowning and impatient. Under the uniform cloak that he had wrapped + about him without having bothered to use the sleeves, which were tossed up + over his chest, Boris had his arms crossed. His entire attitude indicated + hauteur, coldness and disdain for what he was hearing. Natacha never + appeared calmer or more mistress of herself. She talked to him rapidly and + mostly in a low voice. Sometimes a word in Russian sounded, and then she + resumed her care to speak low. Finally she ceased, and Boris, after a + short silence, in which he had seemed to reflect deeply, pronounced + distinctly these words in French, pronouncing them syllable by syllable, + as though to give them additional force: + </p> + <p> + “You ask a frightful thing of me.” + </p> + <p> + “It is necessary to grant it to me,” said the young girl with singular + energy. “You understand, Boris Alexandrovitch! It is necessary.” + </p> + <p> + Her gaze, after she had glanced penetratingly all around her and + discovered nothing suspicious, rested tenderly on the young officer, while + she murmured, “My Boris!” The young man could not resist either the + sweetness of that voice, nor the captivating charm of that glance. He took + the hand she extended toward him and kissed it passionately. His eyes, + fixed on Natacha, proclaimed that he granted everything that she wished + and admitted himself vanquished. Then she said, always with that adorable + gaze upon him, “This evening!” He replied, “Yes, yes. This evening! This + evening!” upon which Natacha withdrew her hand and made a sign to the + officer to leave, which he promptly obeyed. Natacha remained there still a + long time, plunged in thought. Rouletabille had already taken the road + back to the villa. Matrena Petrovna was watching for his return, seated on + the first step of the landing on the great staircase which ran up from the + veranda. When she saw him she ran to him. He had already reached the + dining-room. + </p> + <p> + “Anyone in the house?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No one. Natacha has not returned, and...” + </p> + <p> + “Your step-daughter is coming in now. Ask her where she has been, if she + has seen the orderlies, and if they said they would return this evening, + in case she answers that she has seen them.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, little domovoi doukh. The orderlies left without my seeing + when they went.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” interrupted Rouletabille, “before she arrives, give me all her + hat-pins.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” + </p> + <p> + “I say, all her hat-pins. Quickly!” + </p> + <p> + Matrena ran to Natacha’s chamber and returned with three enormous hat-pins + with beautifully-cut stones in them. + </p> + <p> + “These are all?” + </p> + <p> + “They are all I have found. I know she has two others. She has one on her + head, or two, perhaps; I can’t find them.” + </p> + <p> + “Take these back where you found them,” said the reporter, after glancing + at them. + </p> + <p> + Matrena returned immediately, not understanding what he was doing. + </p> + <p> + “And now, your hat-pins. Yes, your hat-pins.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I have only two, and here they are,” said she, drawing them from the + toque she had been wearing and had thrown on the sofa when she re-entered + the house. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille gave hers the same inspection. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks. Here is your step-daughter.” + </p> + <p> + Natacha entered, flushed and smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well,” said she, quite breathless, “you may boast that I had to + search for you. I made the entire round, clear past the Barque. Has the + promenade done papa good?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is asleep,” replied Matrena. “Have you met Boris and Michael?” + </p> + <p> + She appeared to hesitate a second, then replied: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for an instant.” + </p> + <p> + “Did they say whether they would return this evening?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied, slightly troubled. “Why all these questions?” + </p> + <p> + She flushed still more. + </p> + <p> + “Because I thought it strange,” parried Matrena, “that they went away as + they did, without saying goodby, without a word, without inquiring if the + general needed them. There is something stranger yet. Did you see Kaltsof + with them, the grand-marshal of the court?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Kaltsof came for a moment, entered the garden and went away again without + seeing us, without saying even a word to the general.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Natacha. + </p> + <p> + With apparent indifference, she raised her arms and drew out her hat-pins. + Rouletabille watched the pin without a word. The young girl hardly seemed + aware of their presence. Entirely absorbed in strange thoughts, she + replaced the pin in her hat and went to hang it in the veranda, which + served also as vestibule. Rouletabille never quitted her eyes. Matrena + watched the reporter with a stupid glance. Natacha crossed the + drawing-room and entered her chamber by passing through her little + sitting-room, through which all entrance to her chamber had to be made. + That little room, though, had three doors. One opened into Natacha’s + chamber, one into the drawing-room, and the third into the little passage + in a corner of the house where was the stairway by which the servants + passed from the kitchens to the ground-floor and the upper floor. This + passage had also a door giving directly upon the drawing-room. It was + certainly a poor arrangement for serving the dining-room, which was on the + other side of the drawing-room and behind the veranda, such a chance + laying-out of a house as one often sees in the off-hand planning of many + places in the country. + </p> + <p> + Alone again with Rouletabille, Matrena noticed that he had not lost sight + of the corner of the veranda where Natacha had hung her hat. Beside this + hat there was a toque that Ermolai had brought in. The old servant had + found it in some corner of the garden or the conservatory where he had + been. A hat-pin stuck out of that toque also. + </p> + <p> + “Whose toque is that?” asked Rouletabille. “I haven’t seen it on the head + of anyone here.” + </p> + <p> + “It is Natacha’s,” replied Matrena. + </p> + <p> + She moved toward it, but the young man held her back, went into the + veranda himself, and, without touching it, standing on tiptoe, he examined + the pin. He sank back on his heels and turned toward Matrena. She caught a + glimpse of fleeting emotion on the face of her little friend. + </p> + <p> + “Explain to me,” she said. + </p> + <p> + But he gave her a glance that frightened her, and said low: + </p> + <p> + “Go and give orders right away that dinner be served in the veranda. All + through dinner it is absolutely necessary that the door of Natacha’s + sitting-room, and that of the stairway passage, and that of the veranda + giving on the drawing-room remain open all the time. Do you understand me? + As soon as you have given your orders go to the general’s chamber and do + not quit the general’s bedside, keep it in view. Come down to dinner when + it is announced, and do not bother yourself about anything further.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, he filled his pipe, lighted it with a sort of sigh of relief, + and, after a final order to Matrena, “Go,” he went into the garden, + puffing great clouds. Anyone would have said he hadn’t smoked in a week. + He appeared not to be thinking but just idly enjoying himself. In fact, he + played like a child with Milinki, Matrena’s pet cat, which he pursued + behind the shrubs, up into the little kiosque which, raised on piles, + lifted its steep thatched roof above the panorama of the isles that + Rouletabille settled down to contemplate like an artist with ample + leisure. + </p> + <p> + The dinner, where Matrena, Natacha and Rouletabille were together again, + was lively. The young man having declared that he was more and more + convinced that the mystery of the bomb in the bouquet was simply a play of + the police, Natacha reinforced his opinion, and following that they found + themselves in agreement on about everything else. For himself, the + reporter during that conversation hid a real horror which had seized him + at the cynical and inappropriate tranquillity with which the young lady + received all suggestions that accused the police or that assumed the + general no longer ran any immediate danger. In short, he worked, or at + least believed he worked, to clear Natacha as he had cleared Matrena, so + that there would develop the absolute necessity of assuming a third + person’s intervention in the facts disclosed so clearly by Koupriane where + Matrena or Natacha seemed alone to be possible agents. As he listened to + Natacha Rouletabille commenced to doubt and quake just as he had seen + Matrena do. The more he looked into the nature of Natacha the dizzier he + grew. What abysmal obscurities were there in her nature! + </p> + <p> + Nothing interesting happened during dinner. Several times, in spite of + Rouletabille’s obvious impatience with her for doing it, Matrena went up + to the general. She returned saying, “He is quiet. He doesn’t sleep. He + doesn’t wish anything. He has asked me to prepare his narcotic. It is too + bad. He has tried in vain, he cannot get along without it.” + </p> + <p> + “You, too, mamma, ought to take something to make you sleep. They say + morphine is very good.” + </p> + <p> + “As for me,” said Rouletabille, whose head for some few minutes had been + dropping now toward one shoulder and now toward another, “I have no need + of any narcotic to make me sleep. If you will permit me, I will get to bed + at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh, my little domovoi doukh, I am going to carry you there in my arms.” + </p> + <p> + Matrena extended her large round arms ready to take Rouletabille as though + he had been a baby. + </p> + <p> + “No, no. I will get up there all right alone,” said Rouletabille, rising + stupidly and appearing ashamed of his excessive sleepiness. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, let us both accompany him to his chamber,” said Natacha, “and I + will wish papa good-night. I’m eager for bed myself. We will all make a + good night of it. Ermolai and Gniagnia will watch with the schwitzar in + the lodge. Things are reasonably arranged now.” + </p> + <p> + They all ascended the stairs. Rouletabille did not even go to see the + general, but threw himself on his bed. Natacha got onto the bed beside her + father, embraced him a dozen times, and went downstairs again. Matrena + followed behind her, closed doors and windows, went upstairs again to + close the door of the landing-place and found Rouletabille seated on his + bed, his arms crossed, not appearing to have any desire for sleep at all. + His face was so strangely pensive also that the anxiety of Matrena, who + had been able to make nothing out of his acts and looks all day, came back + upon her instantly in greater force than ever. She touched his arm in + order to be sure that he knew she was there. + </p> + <p> + “My little friend,” she said, “will you tell me now?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame,” he replied at once. “Sit in that chair and listen to me. + There are things you must know at once, because we have reached a + dangerous hour.” + </p> + <p> + “The hat-pins first. The hat-pins!” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille rose lightly from the bed and, facing her, but watching + something besides her, said: + </p> + <p> + “It is necessary you should know that someone almost immediately is going + to renew the attempt of the bouquet.” + </p> + <p> + Matrena sprang to her feet as quickly as though she had been told there + was a bomb in the seat of her chair. She made herself sit down again, + however, in obedience to Rouletabille’s urgent look commanding absolute + quiet. + </p> + <p> + “Renew the attempt of the bouquet!” she murmured in a stifled voice. “But + there is not a flower in the general’s chamber.” + </p> + <p> + “Be calm, madame. Understand me and answer me: You heard the tick-tack + from the bouquet while you were in your own chamber?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, with the doors open, naturally.” + </p> + <p> + “You told me the persons who came to say good-night to the general. At + that time there was no noise of tick-tack?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think that if there had been any tick-tack then you would have + heard it, with all those persons talking in the room?” + </p> + <p> + “I hear everything. I hear everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you go downstairs at the same time those people did?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; I remained near the general for some time, until he was sound + asleep.” + </p> + <p> + “And you heard nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “You closed the doors behind those persons?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the door to the great staircase. The door of the servants’ stairway + was condemned a long time ago; it has been locked by me, I alone have the + key and on the inside of the door opening into the general’s chamber there + is also a bolt which is always shot. All the other doors of the chambers + have been condemned by me. In order to enter any of the four rooms on this + floor it is necessary now to pass by the door of my chamber, which gives + on the main staircase.” + </p> + <p> + “Perfect. Then, no one has been able to enter the apartment. No one had + been in the apartment for at least two hours excepting you and the + general, when you heard the clockwork. From that the only conclusion is + that only the general and you could have started it going.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you trying to say?” Matrena demanded, astounded. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to prove to you by this absurd conclusion, madame, that it is + necessary never—never, you understand? Never—to reason solely + upon even the most evident external evidence when those + seemingly-conclusive appearances are in conflict with certain moral truths + that also are clear as the light of day. The light of day for me, madame, + is that the general does not desire to commit suicide and, above all, that + he would not choose the strange method of suicide by clockwork. The light + of day for me is that you adore your husband and that you are ready to + sacrifice your life for his.” + </p> + <p> + “Now!” exclaimed Matrena, whose tears, always ready in emotional moments, + flowed freely. “But, Holy Mary, why do you speak to me without looking at + me? What is it? What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t turn! Don’t make a movement! You hear—not a move! And speak + low, very low. And don’t cry, for the love of God!” + </p> + <p> + “But you say at once... the bouquet! Come to the general’s room!” + </p> + <p> + “Not a move. And continue listening to me without interrupting,” said he, + still inclining his ear, and still without looking at her. “It is because + these things were as the light of day to me that I say to myself, ‘It is + impossible that it should be impossible for a third person not to have + placed the bomb in the bouquet. Someone is able to enter the general’s + chamber even when the general is watching and all the doors are locked.’” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. No one could possibly enter. I swear it to you.” + </p> + <p> + As she swore it a little too loudly, Rouletabille seized her arm so that + she almost cried out, but she understood instantly that it was to keep her + quiet. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you not to interrupt me, once for all.” + </p> + <p> + “But, then, tell me what you are looking at like that.” + </p> + <p> + “I am watching the corner where someone is going to enter the general’s + chamber when everything is locked, madame. Do not move!” + </p> + <p> + Matrena, her teeth chattering, recalled that when she entered + Rouletabille’s chamber she had found all the doors open that communicated + with the chain of rooms: the young man’s chamber with hers, the + dressing-room and the general’s chamber. She tried, under Rouletabille’s + look, to keep calm, but in spite of all the reporter’s exhortations she + could not hold her tongue. + </p> + <p> + “But which way? Where will they enter?” + </p> + <p> + “By the door.” + </p> + <p> + “Which door?” + </p> + <p> + “That of the chamber giving on the servants’ stair-way.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, how? The key! The bolt!” + </p> + <p> + “They have made a key.” + </p> + <p> + “But the bolt is drawn this side.” + </p> + <p> + “They will draw it back from the other side.” + </p> + <p> + “What! That is impossible.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille laid his two hands on Matrena’s strong shoulders and + repeated, detaching each syllable, “They will draw it back from the other + side.” + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible. I repeat it.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, your Nihilists haven’t invented anything. It is a trick much in + vogue with sneak thieves in hotels. All it needs is a little hole the size + of a pin bored in the panel of the door above the bolt.” + </p> + <p> + “God!” quavered Matrena. “I don’t understand what you mean by your little + hole. Explain to me, little domovoi.” + </p> + <p> + “Follow me carefully, then,” continued Rouletabille, his eyes all the time + fixed elsewhere. “The person who wishes to enter sticks through the hole a + brass wire that he has already given the necessary curve to and which is + fitted on its end with a light point of steel curved inward. With such an + instrument it is child’s play, if the hole has been made where it ought to + be, to touch the bolt on the inside from the outside, pick the knob on it, + withdraw it, and open the door if the bolt is like this one, a small + door-bolt.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, oh, oh,” moaned Matrena, who paled visibly. “And that hole?” + </p> + <p> + “It exists.” + </p> + <p> + “You have discovered it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the first hour I was here.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, domovoi! But how did you do that when you never entered the general’s + chamber until to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless, but I went up that servants’ staircase much earlier than that. + And I will tell you why. When I was brought into the villa the first time, + and you watched me, bidden behind the door, do you know what I was + watching myself, while I appeared to be solely occupied digging out the + caviare? The fresh print of boot-nails which left the carpet near the + table, where someone had spilled beer (the beer was still running down the + cloth). Someone had stepped in the beer. The boot-print was not clearly + visible excepting there. But from there it went to the door of the + servants’ stairway and mounted the stairs. That boot was too fine to be + mounting a stairway reserved to servants and that Koupriane told me had + been condemned, and it was that made me notice it in a moment; but just + then you entered.” + </p> + <p> + “You never told me anything about it. Of course if I had known there was a + boot-print...” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t tell you anything about it because I had my reasons for that, + and, anyway, the trace dried while I was telling you about my journey.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, why not have told me later?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I didn’t know you yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Subtle devil! You will kill me. I can no longer... Let us go into the + general’s chamber. We will wake him.” + </p> + <p> + “Remain here. Remain here. I have not told you anything. That boot-print + preoccupied me, and later, when I could get away from the dining-room, I + was not easy until I had climbed that stairway myself and gone to see that + door, where I discovered what I have just told you and what I am going to + tell you now.” + </p> + <p> + “What? What? In all you have said there has been nothing about the + hat-pins.” + </p> + <p> + “We have come to them now.” + </p> + <p> + “And the bouquet attack, which is going to happen again? Why? Why?” + </p> + <p> + “This is it. When this evening you let me go to the general’s chamber, I + examined the bolt of the door without your suspecting it. My opinion was + confirmed. It was that way that the bomb was brought, and it is by that + way that someone has prepared to return.” + </p> + <p> + “But how? You are sure the little hole is the way someone came? But what + makes you think that is how they mean to return? You know well enough + that, not having succeeded in the general’s chamber, they are at work in + the dining-room.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, it is probable, it is certain that they have given up the work in + the dining-room since they have commenced this very day working again in + the general’s chamber. Yes, someone returned, returned that way, and I was + so sure of that, of the forthcoming return, that I removed the police in + order to be able to study everything more at my ease. Do you understand + now my confidence and why I have been able to assume so heavy a + responsibility? It is because I knew I had only one thing to watch: one + little hat-pin. It is not difficult, madame, to watch a single little + hat-pin.” + </p> + <p> + “A mistake,” said Matrena, in a low voice. “Miserable little domovoi who + told me nothing, me whom you let go to sleep on my mattress, in front of + that door that might open any moment.” + </p> + <p> + “No, madame. For I was behind it!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, dear little holy angel! But what were you thinking of! That door has + not been watched this afternoon. In our absence it could have been opened. + If someone has placed a bomb during our absence!” + </p> + <p> + “That is why I sent you at once in to the dining-room on that search that + I thought would be fruitless, dear madame. And that is why I hurried + upstairs to the bedroom. I went to the stairway door instantly. I had + prepared for proof positive if anyone had pushed it open even half a + millimeter. No, no one had touched the door in our absence. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, dear heroic little friend of Jesus! But listen to me. Listen to me, + my angel. Ah, I don’t know where I am or what I say. My brain is no more + than a flabby balloon punctured with pins, with little holes of hat-pins. + Tell me about the hat-pins. Right off! No, at first, what is it that makes + you believe—good God!—that someone will return by that door? + How can you see that, all that, in a poor little hat-pin?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, it is not a single hat-pin hole; there are two of them. + </p> + <p> + “Two hat-pin holes?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, two. An old one and a new one. One quite new. Why this second hole? + Because the old one was judged a little too narrow and they wished to + enlarge it, and in enlarging it they broke off the point of a hat-pin in + it. Madame, the point is there yet, filling up the little old hole and the + piece of metal is very sharp and very bright.” + </p> + <p> + “Now I understand the examination of the hat-pins. Then it is so easy as + that to get through a door with a hat-pin?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing easier, especially if the panel is of pine. Sometimes one happens + to break the point of a pin in the first hole. Then of necessity one makes + a second. In order to commence the second hole, the point of the pin being + broken, they have used the point of a pen-knife, then have finished the + hole with the hat-pin. The second hole is still nearer the bolt than the + first one. Don’t move like that, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “But they are going to come! They are going to come!” + </p> + <p> + “I believe so.” + </p> + <p> + “But I can’t understand how you can remain so quiet with such a certainty. + Great heavens! what proof have you that they have not been there already?” + </p> + <p> + “Just an ordinary pin, madame, not a hat-pin this time. Don’t confuse the + pins. I will show you in a little while.” + </p> + <p> + “He will drive me distracted with his pins, dear light of my eyes! Bounty + of Heaven! God’s envoy! Dear little happiness-bearer!” + </p> + <p> + In her transport she tried to take him in her trembling arms, but he waved + her back. She caught her breath and resumed: + </p> + <p> + “Did the examination of all the hat-pins tell you anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. The fifth hat-pin of Mademoiselle Natacha’s, the one in the toque + out in the veranda, has the tip newly broken off.” + </p> + <p> + “O misery!” cried Matrena, crumpling in her chair. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille raised her. + </p> + <p> + “What would you have? I have examined your own hat-pins. Do you think I + would have suspected you if I had found one of them broken? I would simply + have thought that someone had used your property for an abominable + purpose, that is all.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that is true, that is true. Pardon me. Mother of Christ, this boy + crazes me! He consoles me and he horrifies me. He makes me think of such + dreadful things, and then he reassures me. He does what he wishes with me. + What should I become without him?” + </p> + <p> + And this time she succeeded in taking his head in her two hands and + kissing him passionately. Rouletabille pushed her back roughly. + </p> + <p> + “You keep me from seeing,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She was in tears over his rebuff. She understood now. Rouletabille during + all this conversation had not ceased to watch through the open doors of + Matrena’s room and the dressing-room the farther fatal door whose brass + bolt shone in the yellow light of the night-lamp. + </p> + <p> + At last he made her a sign and the reporter, followed by Matrena, advanced + on tip-toe to the threshold of the general’s chamber, keeping close to the + wall. Feodor Feodorovitch slept. They heard his heavy breath, but he + appeared to be enjoying peaceful sleep. The horrors of the night before + had fled. Matrena was perhaps right in attributing the nightmares to the + narcotic prepared for him each night, for the glass from which he drank it + when he felt he could not sleep was still full and obviously had not been + touched. The bed of the general was so placed that whoever occupied it, + even if they were wide awake, could not see the door giving on the + servants’ stairway. The little table where the glass and various phials + were placed and which had borne the dangerous bouquet, was placed near the + bed, a little back of it, and nearer the door. Nothing would have been + easier than for someone who could open the door to stretch an arm and + place the infernal machine among the wild flowers, above all, as could + easily be believed, if he had waited for that treachery until the heavy + breathing of the general told them outside that he was fast asleep, and + if, looking through the key-hole, he had made sure Matrena was occupied in + her own chamber. Rouletabille, at the threshold, glided to one side, out + of the line of view from the hole, and got down on all fours. He crawled + toward the door. With his head to the floor he made sure that the little + ordinary pin which he had placed on guard that evening, stuck in the floor + against the door, was still erect, having thus additional proof that the + door had not been moved. In any other case the pin would have lain flat on + the floor. He crept back, rose to his feet, passed into the dressing-room + and, in a corner, had a rapid conversation in a low voice with Matrena. + </p> + <p> + “You will go,” said he, “and take your mattress into the corner of the + dressing-room where you can still see the door but no one can see you by + looking through the key-hole. Do that quite naturally, and then go to your + rest. I will pass the night on the mattress, and I beg you to believe that + I will be more comfortable there than on a bed of staircase wood where I + spent the night last night, behind the door.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but you will fall asleep. I don’t wish that.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you thinking, madame?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t wish it. I don’t wish it. I don’t wish to quit the door where the + eye is. And since I’m not able to sleep, let me watch.” + </p> + <p> + He did not insist, and they crouched together on the mattress. + Rouletabille was squatted like a tailor at work; but Matrena remained on + all-fours, her jaw out, her eyes fixed, like a bulldog ready to spring. + The minutes passed by in profound silence, broken only by the irregular + breathing and puffing of the general. His face stood out pallid and tragic + on the pillow; his mouth was open and, at times, the lips moved. There was + fear at any moment of nightmare or his awakening. Unconsciously he threw + an arm over toward the table where the glass of narcotic stood. Then he + lay still again and snored lightly. The night-lamp on the mantelpiece + caught queer yellow reflections from the corners of the furniture, from + the gilded frame of a picture on the wall and from the phials and glasses + on the table. But in all the chamber Matrena Petrovna saw nothing, thought + of nothing but the brass bolt which shone there on the door. Tired of + being on her knees, she shifted, her chin in her hands, her gaze steadily + fixed. As time passed and nothing happened she heaved a sigh. She could + not have said whether she hoped for or dreaded the coming of that + something new which Rouletabille had indicated. Rouletabille felt her + shiver with anguish and impatience. + </p> + <p> + As for him, he had not hoped that anything would come to pass until toward + dawn, the moment, as everyone knows, when deep sleep is most apt to + vanquish all watchfulness and all insomnia. And as he waited for that + moment he had not budged any more than a Chinese ape or the dear little + porcelain domovoi doukh in the garden. Of course it might be that it was + not to happen this night. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Matrena’s hand fell on Rouletabille’s. His imprisoned hers so + firmly that she understood she was forbidden to make the least movement. + And both, with necks extended, ears erect, watched like beasts, like + beasts on the scent. + </p> + <p> + Yes, yes, there had been a slight noise in the lock. A key turned, softly, + softly, in the lock, and then—silence; and then another little + noise, a grinding sound, a slight grating of wire, above, then on the + bolt; upon the bolt which shone in the subdued glow of the night-lamp. The + bolt softly, very softly, slipped slowly. + </p> + <p> + Then the door was pushed slowly, so slowly. It opened. + </p> + <p> + Through the opening the shadow of an arm stretched, an arm which held in + its fingers something which shone. Rouletabille felt Matrena ready to + bound. He encircled her, he pressed her in his arms, he restrained her in + silence, and he had a horrible fear of hearing her suddenly shout, while + the arm stretched out, almost touched the pillow on the bed where the + general continued to sleep a sleep of peace such as he had not known for a + long time. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. ARSENATE OF SODA + </h2> + <p> + The mysterious hand held a phial and poured the entire contents into the + potion. Then the hand withdrew as it had come, slowly, prudently, slyly, + and the key turned in the lock and the bolt slipped back into place. + </p> + <p> + Like a wolf, Rouletabille, warning Matrena for a last time not to budge, + gained the landing-place, bounded towards the stairs, slid down the + banister right to the veranda, crossed the drawing-room like a flash, and + reached the little sitting-room without having jostled a single piece of + furniture. He noticed nothing, saw nothing. All around was undisturbed and + silent. + </p> + <p> + The first light of dawn filtered through the blinds. He was able to make + out that the only closed door was the one to Natacha’s chamber. He stopped + before that door, his heart beating, and listened. But no sound came to + his ear. He had glided so lightly over the carpet that he was sure he had + not been heard. Perhaps that door would open. He waited. In vain. It + seemed to him there was nothing alive in that house except his heart. He + was stifled with the horror that he glimpsed, that he almost touched, + although that door remained closed. He felt along the wall in order to + reach the window, and pulled aside the curtain. Window and blinds of the + little room giving on the Neva were closed. The bar of iron inside was in + its place. Then he went to the passage, mounted and descended the narrow + servants’ stairway, looked all about, in all the rooms, feeling everywhere + with silent hands, assuring himself that no lock had been tampered with. + On his return to the veranda, as he raised his head, he saw at the top of + the main staircase a figure wan as death, a spectral apparition amid the + shadows of the passing night, who leaned toward him. It was Matrena + Petrovna. She came down, silent as a phantom and he no longer recognized + her voice when she demanded of him, “Where? I require that you tell me. + Where?” + </p> + <p> + “I have looked everywhere,” he said, so low that Matrena had to come + nearer to understand his whisper. “Everything is shut tight. And there is + no one about.” + </p> + <p> + Matrena looked at Rouletabille with all the power of her eyes, as though + she would discover his inmost thoughts, but his clear glance did not + waver, and she saw there was nothing he wished to hide. Then Matrena + pointed her finger at Natacha’s chamber. + </p> + <p> + “You have not gone in there?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + He replied, “It is not necessary to enter there.” + </p> + <p> + “I will enter there, myself, nevertheless,” said she, and she set her + teeth. + </p> + <p> + He barred her way with his arms spread out. + </p> + <p> + “If you hold the life of someone dear,” said he, “don’t go a step + farther.” + </p> + <p> + “But the person is in that chamber. The person is there! It is there you + will find out!” And she waved him aside with a gesture as though she were + sleepwalking. + </p> + <p> + To recall her to the reality of what he had said to her and to make her + understand what he desired, he had to grip her wrist in the vice of his + nervous hand. + </p> + <p> + “The person is not there, perhaps,” he said, shaking his head. “Understand me now.” + </p> + <p> + But she did not understand him. She said: + </p> + <p> + “Since the person is nowhere else, the person must be there.” + </p> + <p> + But Rouletabille continued obstinately: + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Perhaps he is gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Gone! And everything locked on the inside!” + </p> + <p> + “That is not a reason,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + But she could not follow his thoughts any further. She wished absolutely + to make her way into Natacha’s chamber. The obsession of that was upon + her. + </p> + <p> + “If you enter there,” said he, “and if (as is most probable) you don’t + find what you seek there, all is lost! And as to me, I give up the whole + thing.” + </p> + <p> + She sank in a heap onto a chair. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t despair,” he murmured. “We don’t know for sure yet.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her poor old head dejectedly. + </p> + <p> + “We know that only she is here, since no one has been able to enter and + since no one has been able to leave.” + </p> + <p> + That, in truth, filled her brain, prevented her from discerning in any + corner of her mind the thought of Rouletabille. Then the impossible + dialogue resumed. + </p> + <p> + “I repeat that we do not know but that the person has gone,” repeated the + reporter, and demanded her keys. + </p> + <p> + “Foolish,” she said. “What do you want them for?” + </p> + <p> + “To search outside as we have searched inside.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, everything is locked on the inside!” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, once more, that is no reason that the person may not be outside.” + </p> + <p> + He consumed five minutes opening the door of the veranda, so many were his + precautions. She watched him impatiently. + </p> + <p> + He whispered to her: + </p> + <p> + “I am going out, but don’t you lose sight of the little sitting-room. At + the least movement call me; fire a revolver if you need to.” + </p> + <p> + He slipped into the garden with the same precautions for silence. From the + corner that she kept to, through the doors left open, Matrena could follow + all the movements of the reporter and watch Natacha’s chamber at the same + time. The attitude of Rouletabille continued to confuse her beyond all + expression. She watched what he did as if she thought him besotted. The + dyernick on guard out in the roadway also watched the young man through + the bars of the gate in consternation, as though he thought him a fool. + Along the paths of beaten earth or cement which offered no chance for + footprints Rouletabille hurried silently. Around him he noted that the + grass of the lawn had not been trodden. And then he paid no more attention + to his steps. He seemed to study attentively the rosy color in the east, + breathing the delicacy of dawning morning in the Isles, amid the silence + of the earth, which still slumbered. + </p> + <p> + Bare-headed, face thrown back, hands behind his back, eyes raised and + fixed, he made a few steps, then suddenly stopped as if he had been given + an electric shock. As soon as he seemed to have recovered from that shock + he turned around and went a few steps back to another path, into which he + advanced, straight ahead, his face high, with the same fixed look that he + had had up to the time he so suddenly stopped, as if something or someone + advised or warned him not to go further. He continually worked back toward + the house, and thus he traversed all the paths that led from the villa, + but in all these excursions he took pains not to place himself in the + field of vision from Natacha’s window, a restricted field because of its + location just around an abutment of the building. To ascertain about this + window he crept on all-fours up to the garden-edge that ran along the foot + of the wall and had sufficient proof that no one had jumped out that way. + Then he went to rejoin Matrena in the veranda. + </p> + <p> + “No one has come into the garden this morning,” said he, “and no one has + gone out of the villa into the garden. Now I am going to look outside the + grounds. Wait here; I’ll be back in five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + He went away, knocked discreetly on the window of the lodge and waited + some seconds. Ermolai came out and opened the gate for him. Matrena moved + to the threshold of the little sitting-room and watched Natacha’s door + with horror. She felt her legs give under her, she could not stand up + under the diabolic thought of such a crime. Ah, that arm, that arm! + reaching out, making its way, with a little shining phial in its hand. + Pains of Christ! What could there be in the damnable books over which + Natacha and her companions pored that could make such abominable crimes + possible? Ah, Natacha, Natacha! it was from her that she would have + desired the answer, straining her almost to stifling on her rough bosom + and strangling her with her own strong hand that she might not hear the + response. Ah, Natacha, Natacha, whom she had loved so much! She sank to + the floor, crept across the carpet to the door, and lay there, stretched + like a beast, and buried her head in her arms while she wept over her + daughter. Natacha, Natacha, whom she had cherished as her own child, and + who did not hear her. Ah, what use that the little fellow had gone to + search outside when the whole truth lay behind this door? Thinking of him, + she was embarrassed lest he should find her in that animalistic posture, + and she rose to her knees and worked her way over to the window that + looked out upon the Neva. The angle of the slanting blinds let her see + well enough what passed outside, and what she saw made her spring to her + feet. Below her the reporter was going through the same incomprehensible + maneuvers that she had seen him do in the garden. Three pathways led to + the little road that ran along the wall of the villa by the bank of the + Neva. The young man, still with his hands behind his back and with his + face up, took them one after the other. In the first he stopped at the + first step. He didn’t take more than two steps in the second. In the + third, which cut obliquely toward the right and seemed to run to the bank + nearest Krestowsky Ostrow, she saw him advance slowly at first, then more + quickly among the small trees and hedges. Once only he stopped and looked + closely at the trunk of a tree against which he seemed to pick out + something invisible, and then he continued to the bank. There he sat down + on a stone and appeared to reflect, and then suddenly he cast off his + jacket and trousers, picked out a certain place on the bank across from + him, finished undressing and plunged into the stream. She saw at once that + he swam like a porpoise, keeping beneath and showing his head from time to + time, breathing, then diving below the surface again. He reached + Krestowsky Ostrow in a clump of reeds. Then he disappeared. Below him, + surrounded by trees, could be seen the red tiles of the villa which + sheltered Boris and Michael. From that villa a person could see the window + of the sitting-room in General Trebassof’s residence, but not what might + occur along the bank of the river just below its walls. An isvotchick + drove along the distant route of Krestowsky, conveying in his carriage a + company of young officers and young women who had been feasting and who + sang as they rode; then deep silence ensued. Matrena’s eyes searched for + Rouletabille, but could not find him. How long was he going to stay hidden + like that? She pressed her face against the chill window. What was she + waiting for? She waited perhaps for someone to make a move on this side, + for the door near her to open and the traitorous figure of The Other to + appear. + </p> + <p> + A hand touched her carefully. She turned. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille was there, his face all scarred by red scratches, without + collar or neck-tie, having hastily resumed his clothes. He appeared + furious as he surprised her in his disarray. She let him lead her as + though she were a child. He drew her to his room and closed the door. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” he commenced, “it is impossible to work with you. Why in the + world have you wept not two feet from your step-daughter’s door? You and + your Koupriane, you commence to make me regret the Faubourg Poissoniere, + you know. Your step-daughter has certainly heard you. It is lucky that she + attaches no importance at all to your nocturnal phantasmagorias, and that + she has been used to them a long time. She has more sense than you, + Mademoiselle Natacha has. She sleeps, or at least she pretends to sleep, + which leaves everybody in peace. What reply will you give her if it + happens that she asks you the reason to-day for your marching and + counter-marching up and down the sitting-room and complains that you kept + her from sleeping?” + </p> + <p> + Matrena only shook her old, old head. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, she has not heard me. I was there like a shadow, like a shadow of + myself. She will never hear me. No one hears a shadow.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille felt returning pity for her and spoke more gently. + </p> + <p> + “In any case, it is necessary, you must understand, that she should attach + no more importance to what you have done to-night than to the things she + knows of your doing other nights. It is not the first time, is it, that + you have wandered in the sitting-room? You understand me? And to-morrow, + madame, embrace her as you always have.” + </p> + <p> + “No, not that,” she moaned. “Never that. I could not.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + Matrena did not reply. She wept. He took her in his arms like a child + consoling its mother. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t cry. Don’t cry. All is not lost. Someone did leave the villa this + morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, little domovoi! How is that? How is that? How did you find that out?” + </p> + <p> + “Since we didn’t find anything inside, it was certainly necessary to find + something outside.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have found it?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “The Virgin protect you!” + </p> + <p> + “SHE is with us. She will not desert us. I will even say that I believe + she has a special guardianship over the Isles. She watches over them from + evening to morning.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you saying?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. You don’t know what we call in France ‘the watchers of the + Virgin’?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, they are the webs that the dear little beasts of the good God + spin between the trees and that...” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. You understand me and you will understand further when you know + that in the garden the first thing that struck me across the face as I + went into it was these watchers of the Virgin spun by the dear little + spiders of the good God. At first when I felt them on my face I said to + myself, ‘Hold on, no one has passed this way,’ and so I went to search + other places. The webs stopped me everywhere in the garden. But, outside + the garden, they kept out of the way and let me pass undisturbed down a + pathway which led to the Neva. So then I said to myself, ‘Now, has the + Virgin by accident overlooked her work in this pathway? Surely not. + Someone has ruined it.’ I found the shreds of them hanging to the bushes, + and so I reached the river.” + </p> + <p> + “And you threw yourself into the river, my dear angel. You swim like a + little god.” + </p> + <p> + “And I landed where the other landed. Yes, there were the reeds all + freshly broken. And I slipped in among the bushes.” + </p> + <p> + “Where to?” + </p> + <p> + “Up to the Villa Krestowsky, madame—where they both live.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, it was from there someone came?” + </p> + <p> + There was a silence between them. + </p> + <p> + She questioned: + </p> + <p> + “Boris?” + </p> + <p> + “Someone who came from the villa and who returned there. Boris or Michael, + or another. They went and returned through the reeds. But in coming they + used a boat; they returned by swimming.” + </p> + <p> + Her customary agitation reasserted itself. + </p> + <p> + She demanded ardently: + </p> + <p> + “And you are sure that he came here and that he left here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am sure of it.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “By the sitting-room window.” + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible, for we found it locked.” + </p> + <p> + “It is possible, if someone closed it behind him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + She commenced to tremble again, and, falling back into her nightmarish + horror, she no longer wasted fond expletives on her domovoi as on a dear + little angel who had just rendered a service ten times more precious to + her than life. While he listened patiently, she said brutally: + </p> + <p> + “Why did you keep me from throwing myself on him, from rushing upon him as + he opened the door? Ah, I would have, I would have... we would know.” + </p> + <p> + “No. At the least noise he would have closed the door. A turn of the key + and he would have escaped forever. And he would have been warned.” + </p> + <p> + “Careless boy! Why then, if you knew he was going to come, didn’t you + leave me in the bedroom and you watch below yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Because so long as I was below he would not have come. He only comes when + there is no one downstairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Saints Peter and Paul pity a poor woman. Who do you think it is, + then? Who do you think it is? I can’t think any more. Tell me, tell me + that. You ought to know—you know everything. Come—who? I + demand the truth. Who? Still some agent of the Committee, of the Central + Committee? Still the Nihilists?” + </p> + <p> + “If it was only that!” said Rouletabille quietly. + </p> + <p> + “You have sworn to drive me mad! What do you mean by your ‘if it was only + that’?” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille, imperturbable, did not reply. + </p> + <p> + “What have you done with the potion?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “The potion? The glass of the crime! I have locked it in my room, in the + cupboard—safe, safe!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but, madame, it is necessary to replace it where you took it from.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, after having poured the poison into a phial, to wash the glass and + fill it with another potion.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right. You think of everything. If the general wakes and wants + his potion, he must not be suspicious of anything, and he must be able to + have his drink.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not necessary that he should drink.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, why have the drink there?” + </p> + <p> + “So that the person can be sure, madame, that if he has not drunk it is + simply because he has not wished to. A pure chance, madame, that he is not + poisoned. You understand me this time?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. O Christ! But how now, if the general wakes and wishes to drink + his narcotic?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him I forbid it. And here is another thing you must do. When—Someone—comes + into the general’s chamber, in the morning, you must quite openly and + naturally throw out the potion, useless and vapid, you see, and so Someone + will have no right to be astonished that the general continues to enjoy + excellent health.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, little one; you are wiser than King Solomon. And what will I do + with the phial of poison?” + </p> + <p> + “Bring it to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Right away.” + </p> + <p> + She went for it and returned five minutes later. + </p> + <p> + “He is still asleep. I have put the glass on the table, out of his reach. + He will have to call me.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good. Then push the door to, close it; we have to talk things over.” + </p> + <p> + “But if someone goes back up the servants’ staircase?” + </p> + <p> + “Be easy about that. They think the general is poisoned already. It is the + first care-free moment I have been able to enjoy in this house.” + </p> + <p> + “When will you stop making me shake with horror, little demon! You keep + your secret well, I must say. The general is sleeping better than if he + really were poisoned. But what shall we do about Natacha? I dare ask you + that—you and you alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing at all.” + </p> + <p> + “How—nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “We will watch her...” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, Matrena, you let me watch her by myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I promise you. I will not pay any attention to her. That is + promised. That is promised. Do as you please. Why, just now, when I spoke + of the Nihilists to you, did you say, ‘If it were only that!’? You + believe, then, that she is not a Nihilist? She reads such things—things + like on the barricades...” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, madame, you think of nothing but Natacha. You have promised me + not to watch her; promise me not to think about her.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, why did you say, ‘If it was only that!’?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, if there were only Nihilists in your affair, dear madame, it + would be too simple, or, rather, it would have been more simple. Can you + possibly believe, madame, that simply a Nihilist, a Nihilist who was only + a Nihilist, would take pains that his bomb exploded from a vase of + flowers?—that it would have mattered where, so long as it + overwhelmed the general? Do you imagine that the bomb would have had less + effect behind the door than in front of it? And the little cavity under + the floor, do you believe that a genuine revolutionary, such as you have + here in Russia, would amuse himself by penetrating to the villa only to + draw out two nails from a board, when one happens to give him time between + two visits to the dining-room? Do you suppose that a revolutionary who + wished to avenge the dead of Moscow and who could succeed in getting so + far as the door behind which General Trebassof slept would amuse himself + by making a little hole with a pin in order to draw back the bolt and + amuse himself by pouring poison into a glass? Why, in such a case, he + would have thrown his bomb outright, whether it blew him up along with the + villa, or he was arrested on the spot, or had to submit to the martyrdom + of the dungeons in the Fortress of SS. Peter and Paul, or be hung at + Schlusselburg. Isn’t that what always happens? That is the way he would + have done, and not have acted like a hotel-rat! Now, there is someone in + your home (or who comes to your home) who acts like a hotel-rat because he + does not wish to be seen, because he does not wish to be discovered, + because he does not wish to be taken in the act. Now, the moment that he + fears nothing so much as to be taken in the act, so that he plays all + these tricks of legerdemain, it is certain that his object lies beyond the + act itself, beyond the bomb, beyond the poison. Why all this necessity for + bombs of deferred explosion, for clockwork placed where it will be + confused with other things, and not on a bare staircase forbidden to + everybody, though you visit it twenty times a day?” + </p> + <p> + “But this man comes in as he pleases by day and by night? You don’t + answer. You know who he is, perhaps?” + </p> + <p> + “I know him, perhaps, but I am not sure who it is yet.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not curious, little domovoi doukh! A friend of the house, + certainly, and who enters the house as he wishes, by night, because + someone opens the window for him. And who comes from the Krestowsky Villa! + Boris or Michael! Ah, poor miserable Matrena! Why don’t they kill poor + Matrena? Their general! Their general! And they are soldiers—soldiers + who come at night to kill their general. Aided by—by whom? Do you + believe that? You? Light of my eyes! you believe that! No, no, that is not + possible! I want you to understand, monsieur le domovoi, that I am not + able to believe anything so horrible. No, no, by Jesus Christ Who died on + the Cross, and Who searches our hearts, I do not believe that Boris—who, + however, has very advanced ideas, I admit—it is necessary not to + forget that; very advanced; and who composes very advanced verses also, as + I have always told him—I will not believe that Boris is capable of + such a fearful crime. As to Michael, he is an honest man, and my daughter, + my Natacha, is an honest girl. Everything looks very bad, truly, but I do + not suspect either Michael or Boris or my pure and beloved Natacha (even + though she has made a translation into French of very advanced verses, + certainly most improper for the daughter of a general). That is what lies + at the bottom of my mind, the bottom of my heart—you have understood + me perfectly, little angel of paradise? Ah, it is you the general owes his + life to, that Matrena owes her life. Without you this house would already + be a coffin. How shall I ever reward you? You wish for nothing! I annoy + you! You don’t even listen to me! A coffin—we would all be in our + coffins! Tell me what you desire. All that I have belongs to you!” + </p> + <p> + “I desire to smoke a pipe. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, a pipe! Do you want some yellow perfumed tobacco that I receive every + month from Constantinople, a treat right from the harem? I will get enough + for you, if you like it, to smoke ten thousand pipes full.” + </p> + <p> + “I prefer caporal,” replied Rouletabille. “But you are right. It is not + wise to suspect anybody. See, watch, wait. There is always time, once the + game is caught, to say whether it is a hare or a wild boar. Listen to me, + then, my good mamma. We must know first what is in the phial. Where is + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Here it is.” + </p> + <p> + She drew it from her sleeve. He stowed it in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “You wish the general a good appetite, for me. I am going out. I will be + back in two hours at the latest. And, above all, don’t let the general + know anything. I am going to see one of my friends who lives in the + Aptiekarski pereolek.” * + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * The little street of the apothecaries. +</pre> + <p> + “Depend on me, and get back quickly for love of me. My blood clogs in my + heart when you are not here, dear servant of God.” + </p> + <p> + She mounted to the general’s room and came down at least ten times to see + if Rouletabille had not returned. Two hours later he was around the villa, + as he had promised. She could not keep herself from running to meet him, + for which she was scolded. + </p> + <p> + “Be calm. Be calm. Do you know what was in the phial?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Arsenate of soda, enough to kill ten people.” + </p> + <p> + “Holy Mary!” + </p> + <p> + “Be quiet. Go upstairs to the general.” + </p> + <p> + Feodor Feodorovitch was in charming humor. It was his first good night + since the death of the youth of Moscow. He attributed it to his not having + touched the narcotic and resolved, once more, to give up the narcotic, a + resolve Rouletabille and Matrena encouraged. During the conversation there + was a knock at the door of Matrena’s chamber. She ran to see who was + there, and returned with Natacha, who wished to embrace her father. Her + face showed traces of fatigue. Certainly she had not passed as good a + night as her father, and the general reproached her for looking so + downcast. + </p> + <p> + “It is true. I had dreadful dreams. But you, papa, did you sleep well? Did + you take your narcotic?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, I have not touched a drop of my potion.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I see. Oh, well, that is all right; that is very good. Natural sleep + must be coming back...” + </p> + <p> + Matrena, as though hypnotized by Rouletabille, had taken the glass from + the table and ostentatiously carried it to the dressing-room to throw it + out, and she delayed there to recover her self-possession. + </p> + <p> + Natacha continued: + </p> + <p> + “You will see, papa, that you will be able to live just like everyone else + finally. The great thing was to clear away the police, the atrocious + police; wasn’t it, Monsieur Rouletabille?” + </p> + <p> + “I have always said, for myself, that I am entirely of Mademoiselle + Natacha’s mind. You can be entirely reassured now, and I shall leave you + feeling reassured. Yes, I must think of getting my interviews done + quickly, and departing. Ah well, I can only say what I think. Run things + yourselves and you will not run any danger. Besides, the general gets much + better, and soon I shall see you all in France, I hope. I must thank you + now for your friendly hospitality.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but you are not going? You are not going!” Matrena had already set + herself to protest with all the strenuous torrent of words in her poor + desolated heart, when a glance from the reporter cut short her despairing + utterances. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have to remain a week still in the city. I have engaged a chamber + at the Hotel de France. It is necessary. I have so many people to see and + to receive. I will come to make you a little visit from time to time.” + </p> + <p> + “You are then quite easy,” demanded the general gravely, “at leaving me + all alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Entirely easy. And, besides, I don’t leave you all alone. I leave you + with Madame Trebassof and Mademoiselle. I repeat: All three of you stay as + I see you now. No more police, or, in any case, the fewest possible.” + </p> + <p> + “He is right, he is right,” repeated Natacha again. + </p> + <p> + At this moment there were fresh knocks at the door of Matrena’s chamber. + It was Ermolai, who announced that his Excellency the Marshal of the + Court, Count Keltzof, wished to see the general, acting for His Majesty. + </p> + <p> + “Go and receive the Count, Natacha, and tell him that your father will be + downstairs in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + Natacha and Rouletabille went down and found the Count in the + drawing-room. He was a magnificent specimen, handsome and big as one of + the Swiss papal guard. He seemed watchful in all directions and all among + the furniture, and was quite evidently disquieted. He advanced immediately + to meet the young lady, inquiring the news. + </p> + <p> + “It is all good news,” replied Natacha. “Everybody here is splendid. The + general is quite gay. But what news have you, monsieur le marechal? You + appear preoccupied.” + </p> + <p> + The marshal had pressed Rouletabille’s hand. + </p> + <p> + “And my grapes?” he demanded of Natacha. + </p> + <p> + “How, your grapes? What grapes?” + </p> + <p> + “If you have not touched them, so much the better. I arrived here very + anxious. I brought you yesterday, from Krasnoie-Coelo, some of the + Emperor’s grapes that Feodor Feodorovitch enjoyed so much. Now this + morning I learned that the eldest son of Doucet, the French head-gardener + of the Imperial conservatories at Krasnoie, had died from eating those + grapes, which he had taken from those gathered for me to bring here. + Imagine my dismay. I knew, however, that at the general’s table, grapes + would not be eaten without having been washed, but I reproached myself for + not having taken the precaution of leaving word that Doucet recommend that + they be washed thoroughly. Still, I don’t suppose it would matter. I + couldn’t see how my gift could be dangerous, but when I learned of little + Doucet’s death this morning, I jumped into the first train and came + straight here.” + </p> + <p> + “But, your Excellency,” interrupted Natacha, “we have not seen your + grapes.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, they have not been served yet? All the better. Thank goodness!” + </p> + <p> + “The Emperor’s grapes are diseased, then?” interrogated Rouletabille. + “Phylloxera pest has got into the conservatories?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing can stop it, Doucet told me. So he didn’t want me to leave last + evening until he had washed the grapes. Unfortunately, I was pressed for + time and I took them as they were, without any idea that the mixture they + spray on the grapes to protect them was so deadly. It appears that in the + vineyard country they have such accidents every year. They call it, I + think, the... the mixture...” + </p> + <p> + “The Bordeaux mixture,” was heard in Rouletabille’s trembling voice “And + do you know what it is, Your Excellency, this Bordeaux mixture?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the general came down the stairs, clinging to the banister + and supported by Matrena Petrovna. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” continued Rouletabille, watching Natacha, “the Bordeaux mixture + which covered the grapes you brought the general yesterday was nothing + more nor less than arsenate of soda.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, God!” cried Natacha. + </p> + <p> + As for Matrena Petrovna, she uttered a low exclamation and let go the + general, who almost fell down the staircase. Everybody rushed. The general + laughed. Matrena, under the stringent look of Rouletabille, stammered that + she had suddenly felt faint. At last they were all together in the + veranda. The general settled back on his sofa and inquired: + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, were you just saying something, my dear marshal, about some + grapes you have brought me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed,” said Natacha, quite frightened, “and what he said isn’t + pleasant at all. The son of Doucet, the court gardener, has just been + poisoned by the same grapes that monsieur le marschal, it appears, brought + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Where was this? Grapes? What grapes? I haven’t seen any grapes!” + exclaimed Matrena. “I noticed you, yesterday, marshal, out in the garden, + but you went away almost immediately, and I certainly was surprised that + you did not come in. What is this story?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we must clear this matter up. It is absolutely necessary that we + know what happened to those grapes.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Rouletabille, “they could cause a catastrophe.” + </p> + <p> + “If it has not happened already,” fretted the marshal. + </p> + <p> + “But how? Where are they? Whom did you give them to?” + </p> + <p> + “I carried them in a white cardboard box, the first one that came to hand + in Doucet’s place. I came here the first time and didn’t find you. I + returned again with the box, and the general was just lying down. I was + pressed for my train and Michael Nikolaievitch and Boris Alexandrovitch + were in the garden, so I asked them to execute my commission, and I laid + the box down near them on the little garden table, telling them not to + forget to tell you it was necessary to wash the grapes as Doucet expressly + recommended.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is unbelievable! It is terrible!” quavered Matrena. “Where can the + grapes be? We must know.” + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely,” approved Rouletabille. + </p> + <p> + “We must ask Boris and Michael,” said Natacha. “Good God! surely they have + not eaten them! Perhaps they are sick.” + </p> + <p> + “Here they are,” said the general. All turned. Michael and Boris were + coming up the steps. Rouletabille, who was in a shadowed corner under the + main staircase, did not lose a single play of muscle on the two faces + which for him were two problems to solve. Both faces were smiling; too + smiling, perhaps. + </p> + <p> + “Michael! Boris! Come here,” cried Feodor Feodorovitch. “What have you + done with the grapes from monsieur le marechal?” + </p> + <p> + They both looked at him upon this brusque interrogation, seemed not to + understand, and then, suddenly recalling, they declared very naturally + that they had left them on the garden table and had not thought about + them. + </p> + <p> + “You forgot my caution, then?” said Count Kaltzof severely. + </p> + <p> + “What caution?” said Boris. “Oh, yes, the washing of the grapes. Doucet’s + caution.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what has happened to Doucet with those grapes? His eldest son + is dead, poisoned. Do you understand now why we are anxious to know what + has become of my grapes?” + </p> + <p> + “But they ought to be out there on the table,” said Michael. + </p> + <p> + “No one can find them anywhere,” declared Matrena, who, no less than + Rouletabille, watched every change in the countenances of the two + officers. “How did it happen that you went away yesterday evening without + saying good-bye, without seeing us, without troubling yourselves whether + or not the general might need you?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said Michael, coldly, in military fashion, as though he replied + to his superior officer himself, “we have ample excuse to offer you and + the general. It is necessary that we make an admission, and the general + will pardon us, I am sure. Boris and I, during the promenade, happened to + quarrel. That quarrel was in full swing when we reached here and we were + discussing the way to end it most promptly when monsieur le marechal + entered the garden. We must make that our excuse for giving divided + attention to what he had to say. As soon as he was gone we had only one + thought, to get away from here to settle our difference with arms in our + hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Without speaking to me about it!” interrupted Trehassof. “I never will + pardon that.” + </p> + <p> + “You fight at such a time, when the general is threatened! It is as though + you fought between yourselves in the face of the enemy. It is treason!” + added Matrena. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said Boris, “we did not fight. Someone pointed out our fault, + and I offered my excuses to Michael Nikolaievitch, who generously accepted + them. Is that not so, Michael Nikolaievitch?” + </p> + <p> + “And who is this that pointed out your fault?” demanded the marshal. + </p> + <p> + “Natacha.” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo, Natacha. Come, embrace me, my daughter.” + </p> + <p> + The general pressed his daughter effusively to his broad chest. + </p> + <p> + “And I hope you will not have further disputing,” he cried, looking over + Natacha’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “We promise you that, General,” declared Boris. “Our lives belong to you.” + </p> + <p> + “You did well, my love. Let us all do as well. I have passed an excellent + night, messieurs. Real sleep! I have had just one long sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “That is so,” said Matrena slowly. “The general had no need of narcotic. + He slept like a child and did not touch his potion.” + </p> + <p> + “And my leg is almost well.” + </p> + <p> + “All the same, it is singular that those grapes should have disappeared,” + insisted the marshal, following his fixed idea. + </p> + <p> + “Ermolai,” called Matrena. + </p> + <p> + The old servant appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday evening, after these gentlemen had left the house, did you + notice a small white box on the garden table?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Barinia.” + </p> + <p> + “And the servants? Have any of them been sick? The dvornicks? The + schwitzar? In the kitchens? No one sick? No? Go and see; then come and + tell me.” + </p> + <p> + He returned, saying, “No one sick.” + </p> + <p> + Like the marshal, Matrena Petrovna and Feodor Feodorovitch looked at one + another, repeating in French, “No one sick! That is strange!” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille came forward and gave the only explanation that was plausible—for + the others. + </p> + <p> + “But, General, that is not strange at all. The grapes have been stolen and + eaten by some domestic, and if the servant has not been sick it is simply + that the grapes monsieur le marechal brought escaped the spraying of the + Bordeaux mixture. That is the whole mystery.” + </p> + <p> + “The little fellow must be right,” cried the delighted marshal. + </p> + <p> + “He is always right, this little fellow,” beamed Matrena, as proudly as + though she had brought him into the world. + </p> + <p> + But “the little fellow,” taking advantage of the greetings as Athanase + Georgevitch and Ivan Petrovitch arrived, left the villa, gripping in his + pocket the phial which held what is required to make grapes flourish or to + kill a general who is in excellent health. When he had gone a few hundred + steps toward the bridges one must cross to go into the city, he was + overtaken by a panting dvornick, who brought him a letter that had just + come by courier. The writing on the envelope was entirely unknown to him. + He tore it open and read, in excellent French: + </p> + <p> + “Request to M. Joseph Rouletabille not to mix in matters that do not + concern him. The second warning will be the last.” It was signed: “The + Central Revolutionary Committee.” + </p> + <p> + “So, ho!” said Rouletabille, slipping the paper into his pocket, “that’s + the line it takes, is it! Happily I have nothing more to occupy myself + with at all. It is Koupriane’s turn now! Now to go to Koupriane’s!” + </p> + <p> + On this date, Rouletabille’s note-book: “Natacha to her father: ‘But you, + papa, have you had a good night? Did you take your narcotic?’ + </p> + <p> + “Fearful, and (lest I confuse heaven and hell) I have no right to take any + further notes.” * + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * As a matter of fact, after this day no more notes are + found in Rouletabille’s memorandum-book. The last one is + that above, bizarre and romantic, and necessary, as + Sainclair, the Paris advocate and friend of Rouletabille, + indicates opposite it in the papers from which we have taken + all the details of this story. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. THE LITTLE CHAPEL OF THE GUARDS + </h2> + <p> + Rouletabille took a long walk which led him to the Troitsky Bridge, then, + re-descending the Naberjnaia, he reached the Winter Palace. He seemed to + have chased away all preoccupation, and took a child’s pleasure in the + different aspects of the life that characterizes the city of the Great + Peter. He stopped before the Winter Palace, walked slowly across the + square where the prodigious monolith of the Alexander Column rises from + its bronze socket, strolled between the palace and the colonnades, passed + under an immense arch: everything seemed Cyclopean to him, and he never + had felt so tiny, so insignificant. None the less he was happy in his + insignificance, he was satisfied with himself in the presence of these + colossal things; everything pleased him this morning. The speed of the + isvos, the bickering humor of the osvotchicks, the elegance of the women, + the fine presences of the officers and their easy naturalness under their + uniforms, so opposed to the wooden posturing of the Berlin military men + whom he had noticed at the “Tilleuls” and in the Friederichstrasse between + two trains. Everything enchanted him—the costume even of the + moujiks, vivid blouses, the red shirts over the trousers, the full legs + and the boots up to the knees, even the unfortunates who, in spite of the + soft atmosphere, were muffled up in sheepskin coats, all impressed him + favorably, everything appeared to him original and congenial. + </p> + <p> + Order reigned in the city. The guards were polite, decorative and superb + in bearing. The passers-by in that quarter talked gayly among themselves, + often in French, and had manners as civilized as anywhere in the world. + Where, then, was the Bear of the North? He never had seen bears so well + licked. Was it this very city that only yesterday was in revolution? This + was certainly the Alexander Park where troops a few weeks before had fired + on children who had sought refuge in the trees, like sparrows. Was this + the very pavement where the Cossacks had left so many bodies? Finally he + saw before him the Nevsky Prospect, where the bullets rained like hail not + long since upon a people dressed for festivities and very joyous. Nichevo! + Nichevo! All that was so soon forgotten. They forgot yesterday as they + forget to-morrow. The Nihilists? Poets, who imagined that a bomb could + accomplish anything in that Babylon of the North more important than the + noise of its explosion! Look at these people who pass. They have no more + thought for the old attack than for those now preparing in the shadow of + the “tracktirs.” Happy men, full of serenity in this bright quarter, who + move about their affairs and their pleasures in the purest air, the + lightest, the most transparent on earth. No, no; no one knows the joy of + mere breathing if he has not breathed the air there, the finest in the + north of the world, which gives food and drink of beautiful white + eau-de-vie and yellow pivo, and strikes the blood and makes one a beast + vigorous and joyful and fatalistic, and mocks at the Nihilists and, as + well, at the ten thousand eyes of the police staring from under the + porches of houses, from under the skulls of dvornicks—all police, + the dvornicks; all police, also the joyous concierges with extended hands. + Ah, ah, one mocks at it all in such air, provided one has roubles in one’s + pockets, plenty of roubles, and that one is not besotted by reading those + extraordinary books that preach the happiness of all humanity to students + and to poor girl-students too. Ah, ah, seed of the Nihilists, all that! + These poor little fellows and poor little girls who have their heads + turned by lectures that they cannot digest! That is all the trouble, the + digestion. The digestion is needed. Messieurs the commercial travelers for + champagne, who talk together importantly in the lobbies of the Grand + Morskaia Hotel and who have studied the Russian people even in the most + distant cities where champagne is sold, will tell you that over any table + of hors-d’oeuvres, and will regulate the whole question of the Revolution + between two little glasses of vodka, swallowed properly, quickly, elbow + up, at a single draught, in the Russian manner. Simply an affair of + digestion, they tell you. Who is the fool that would dare compare a young + gentleman who has well digested a bottle of champagne or two, and another + young man who has poorly digested the lucubrations of, who shall we say?—the + lucubrations of the economists? The economists? The economists! Fools who + compete which can make the most violent statements! Those who read them + and don’t understand them go off like a bomb! Your health! Nichevo! The + world goes round still, doesn’t it? + </p> + <p> + Discussion political, economic, revolutionary, and other in the room where + they munch hors-d’oeuvres! You will hear it all as you pass through the + hotel to your chamber, young Rouletabille. Get quickly now to the home of + Koupriane, if you don’t wish to arrive there at luncheon-time; then you + would have to put off these serious affairs until evening. + </p> + <p> + The Department of Police. Massive entrance, heavily guarded, a great + lobby, halls with swinging doors, many obsequious schwitzars on the + lookout for tips, many poor creatures sitting against the walls on dirty + benches, desks and clerks, brilliant boots and epaulets of gay young + officers who are telling tales of the Aquarium with great relish. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Rouletabille! Ah, yes. Please be seated. Delighted, M. Koupriane + will be very happy to receive you, but just at this moment he is at + inspection. Yes, the inspection of the police dormitories in the barracks. + We will take you there. His own idea! He doesn’t neglect anything, does + he? A great Chief. Have you seen the police-guards’ dormitory? Admirable! + The first dormitories of the world. We say that without wishing to offend + France. We love France. A great nation! I will take you immediately to M. + Koupriane. I shall be delighted.” + </p> + <p> + “I also,” said Rouletabille, who put a rouble into the honorable + functionary’s hand. + </p> + <p> + “Permit me to precede you.” + </p> + <p> + Bows and salutes. For two roubles he would have walked obsequiously before + him to the end of the world. + </p> + <p> + “These functionaries are admirable,” thought Rouletabille as he was led to + the barracks. He felt he had not paid too much for the services of a + personage whose uniform was completely covered with lace. They tramped, + they climbed, they descended. Stairways, corridors. Ah, the barracks at + last. He seemed to have entered a convent. Beds very white, very narrow, + and images of the Virgin and saints everywhere, monastic neatness and the + most absolute silence. Suddenly an order sounded in the corridor outside, + and the police-guard, who sprang from no one could tell where, stood to + attention at the head of their beds. Koupriane and his aide appeared. + Koupriane looked at everything closely, spoke to each man in turn, called + them by their names, inquired about their needs, and the men stammered + replies, not knowing what to answer, reddening like children. Koupriane + observed Rouletabille. He dismissed his aide with a gesture. The + inspection was over. He drew the young man into a little room just off the + dormitory. Rouletabille, frightened, looked about him. He found himself in + a chapel. This little chapel completed the effect of the guards’ + dormitory. It was all gilded, decorated in marvelous colors, thronged with + little ikons that bring happiness, and, naturally, with the portrait of + the Tsar, the dear Little Father. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said Koupriane, smiling at Rouletabille’s amazement, “we deny + them nothing. We give them their saints right here in their quarters.” + Closing the door, he drew a chair toward Rouletabille and motioned him to + sit down. They sat before the little altar loaded with flowers, with + colored paper and winged saints. + </p> + <p> + “We can talk here without being disturbed,” he said. “Yonder there is such + a crowd of people waiting for me. I’m ready to listen.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said Rouletabille, “I have come to give you the report of my + mission here, and to terminate my connection with it. All that is left for + clearing this obscure affair is to arrest the guilty person, with which I + have nothing to do. That concerns you. I simply inform you that someone + tried to poison the general last night by pouring arsenate of soda into + his sleeping-potion, which I bring you in this phial, arsenate which was + secured most probably by washing it from grapes brought to General + Trebassof by the marshal of the court, and which disappeared without + anyone being able to say how.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ah, a family affair, a plot within the family. I told you so,” + murmured Koupriane. + </p> + <p> + “The affair at least has happened within the family, as you think, + although the assassin came from outside. Contrary to what you may be able + to believe, he does not live in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Then how does he get there?” demanded Koupriane. + </p> + <p> + “By the window of the room overlooking the Neva. He has often come that + way. And that is the way he returns also, I am sure. It is there you can + take him if you act with prudence.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know he often comes that way?” + </p> + <p> + “You know the height of the window above the little roadway. To reach it + he uses a water-trough, whose iron rings are bent, and also the marks of a + grappling-iron that he carries with him and uses to hoist himself to the + window are distinctly visible on the ironwork of the little balcony + outside. The marks are quite obviously of different dates.” + </p> + <p> + “But that window is closed.” + </p> + <p> + “Someone opens it for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Who, if you please?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no desire to know.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh, yes. It necessarily is Natacha. I was sure that the Villa des Iles + had its viper. I tell you she doesn’t dare leave her nest because she + knows she is watched. Not one of her movements outside escapes us! She + knows it. She has been warned. The last time she ventured outside alone + was to go into the old quarters of Derewnia. What has she to do in such a + rotten quarter? I ask you that. And she turned in her tracks without + seeing anyone, without knocking at a single door, because she saw that she + was followed. She isn’t able to get to see them outside, therefore she has + to see them inside.” + </p> + <p> + “They are only one, and always the same one.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” + </p> + <p> + “An examination of the marks on the wall and on the pipe doesn’t leave any + doubt of it, and it is always the same grappling-iron that is used for the + window.” + </p> + <p> + “The viper!” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Koupriane, Mademoiselle Natacha seems to preoccupy you + exceedingly. I did not come here to talk about Mademoiselle Natacha. I + came to point out to you the route used by the man who comes to do the + murder.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh, yes, it is she who opens the way.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t deny that.” + </p> + <p> + “The little demon! Why does she take him into her room at night? Do you + think perhaps there is some love-affair...?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of quite the opposite.” + </p> + <p> + “I too. Natacha is not a wanton. Natacha has no heart. She has only a + brain. And it doesn’t take long for a brain touched by Nihilism to get so + it won’t hesitate at anything.” + </p> + <p> + Koupriane reflected a minute, while Rouletabille watched him in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Have we solely to do with Nihilism?” resumed Koupriane. “Everything you + tell me inclines me more and more to my idea: a family affair, purely in + the family. You know, don’t you, that upon the general’s death Natacha + will be immensely rich?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know it,” replied Rouletabille, in a voice that sounded singular + to the ear of the Chief of Police and which made him raise his head. + </p> + <p> + “What do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I? Nothing,” replied the reporter, this time in a firmer tone. “I ought, + however, to say this to you: I am sure that we are dealing with + Nihilism...” + </p> + <p> + “What makes you believe it?” + </p> + <p> + “This.” + </p> + <p> + And Rouletabille handed Koupriane the message he had received that same + morning. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, oh,” cried Koupriane. “You are under watch! Look out.” + </p> + <p> + “I have nothing to fear; I’m not bothering myself about anything further. + Yes, we have an affair of the revolutionaries, but not of the usual kind. + The way they are going about it isn’t like one of their young men that the + Central Committee arms with a bomb and who is sacrificed in advance.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are the tracks that you have traced?” + </p> + <p> + “Right up to the little Krestowsky Villa.” + </p> + <p> + Koupriane bounded from his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Occupied by Boris. Parbleu! Now we have them. I see it all now. Boris, + another cracked brain! And he is engaged. If he plays the part of the + Revolutionaries, the affair would work out big for him.” + </p> + <p> + “That villa,” said Rouletabille quietly, “is also occupied by Michael + Korosakoff.” + </p> + <p> + “He is the most loyal, the most reliable soldier of the Tsar.” + </p> + <p> + “No one is ever sure of anything, my dear Monsieur Koupriane.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am sure of a man like that.” + </p> + <p> + “No man is ever sure of any man, my dear Monsieur Koupriane.” + </p> + <p> + “I am, in every case, for those I employ.” + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Something that can serve you in the enterprise you are going to + undertake, because I trust you can catch the murderer right in his nest. + To do that, I’ll not conceal from you that I think your agents will have + to be enormously clever. They will have to watch the datcha des Iles at + night, without anyone possibly suspecting it. No more maroon coats with + false astrakhan trimmings, eh? But Apaches, Apaches on the wartrail, who + blend themselves with the ground, with the trees, with the stones in the + roadway. But among those Apaches don’t send that agent of your Secret + Service who watched the window while the assassin climbed to it.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, these climbs that you can read the proofs of on the wall and on the + iron forgings of the balcony went on while your agents, night and day, + were watching the villa. Have you noticed, monsieur, that it was always + the same agent who took the post at night, behind the villa, under the + window? General Trebassof’s book in which he kept a statement of the exact + disposal of each of your men during the period of siege was most + instructive on that point. The other posts changed in turn, but the same + agent, when he was among the guard, demanded always that same post, which + was not disputed by anybody, since it is no fun to pass the hours of the + night behind a wall, in an empty field. The others much preferred to roll + away the time watching in the villa or in front of the lodge, where vodka + and Crimean wine, kwass and pivo, kirsch and tchi, never ran short. That + agent’s name is Touman.” + </p> + <p> + “Touman! Impossible! He is one of the best agents from Kiew. He was + recommended by Gounsovski.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille chuckled. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, yes,” grumbled the Chief of Police. “Someone always laughs when + his name is mentioned.” + </p> + <p> + Koupriane had turned red. He rose, opened the door, gave a long direction + in Russian, and returned to his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said he, “go ahead and tell me all the details of the poison and + the grapes the marshal of the court brought. I’m listening.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille told him very briefly and without drawing any deductions all + that we already know. He ended his account as a man dressed in a maroon + coat with false astrakhan was introduced. It was the same man Rouletabille + had met in General Trebassof’s drawing-room and who spoke French. Two + gendarmes were behind him. The door had been closed. Koupriane turned + toward the man in the coat. + </p> + <p> + “Touman,” he said, “I want to talk to you. You are a traitor, and I have + proof. You can confess to me, and I will give you a thousand roubles and + you can take yourself off to be hanged somewhere else.” + </p> + <p> + The man’s eyes shrank, but he recovered himself quickly. He replied in + Russian. + </p> + <p> + “Speak French. I order it,” commanded Koupriane. + </p> + <p> + “I answer, Your Excellency,” said Touman firmly, “that I don’t know what + Your Excellency means.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that you have helped a man get into the Trebassof villa by night + when you were on guard under the window of the little sitting-room. You + see that there is no use deceiving us any longer. I play with you frankly, + good play, good money. The name of that man, and you have a thousand + roubles.” + </p> + <p> + “I am ready to swear on the ikon of...” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t perjure yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I have always loyally served...” + </p> + <p> + “The name of that man.” + </p> + <p> + “I still don’t know yet what Your Excellency means.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you understand me,” replied Koupriane, who visibly held in an anger + that threatened to break forth any moment. “A man got into the house while + you were watching...” + </p> + <p> + “I never saw anything. After all, it is possible. There were some very + dark nights. I went back and forth.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not a fool. The name of that man.” + </p> + <p> + “I assure you, Excellency...” + </p> + <p> + “Strip him.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do?” cried Rouletabille. + </p> + <p> + But already the two guards had thrown themselves on Touman and had drawn + off his coat and shirt. The man was bare to the waist. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do? What are you going to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Leave them alone,” said Koupriane, roughly pushing Rouletabille back. + </p> + <p> + Seizing a whip which hung at the waist of the guards he struck Touman a + blow across the shoulders that drew blood. Touman, mad with the outrage + and the pain, shouted, “Yes, it is true! I brag of it!” + </p> + <p> + Koupriane did not restrain his rage. He showered the unhappy man with + blows, having thrown Rouletabille to the end of the room when he tried to + interfere. And while he proceeded with the punishment the Chief of Police + hurled at the agent who had betrayed him an accompaniment of fearful + threats, promising him that before he was hanged he should rot in the + bottom-most dungeon of Peter and Paul, in the slimy pits lying under the + Neva. Touman, between the two guards who held him, and who sometimes + received blows on the rebound that were not intended for them, never + uttered a complaint. Outside the invectives of Koupriane there was heard + only the swish of the cords and the cries of Rouletabille, who continued + to protest that it was abominable, and called the Chief of Police a + savage. Finally the savage stopped. Gouts of blood had spattered all + about. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said Rouletabille, who supported himself against the wall. “I + shall complain to the Tsar.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” Koupriane replied, “but I feel relieved now. You can’t + imagine the harm this man can have done to us in the weeks he has been + here.” + </p> + <p> + Touman, across whose shoulders they had thrown his coat and who lay now + across a chair, found strength to look up and say: + </p> + <p> + “It is true. You can’t do me as much harm as I have done you, whether you + think so or not. All the harm that can be done me by you and yours is + already accomplished. My name is not Touman, but Matiev. Listen. I had a + son that was the light of my eyes. Neither my son nor I had ever been + concerned with politics. I was employed in Moscow. My son was a student. + During the Red Week we went out, my son and I, to see a little of what was + happening over in the Presnia quarter. They said everybody had been killed + over there! We passed before the Presnia gate. Soldiers called to us to + stop because they wished to search us. We opened our coats. The soldiers + saw my son’s student waistcoat and set up a cry. They unbuttoned the vest, + drew a note-book out of his pocket and they found a workman’s song in it + that had been published in the Signal. The soldiers didn’t know how to + read. They believed the paper was a proclamation, and they arrested my + son. I demanded to be arrested with him. They pushed me away. I ran to the + governor’s house. Trebassof had me thrust away from his door with blows + from the butt-ends of his Cossacks’ guns. And, as I persisted, they kept + me locked up all that night and the morning of the next day. At noon I was + set free. I demanded my son and they replied they didn’t know what I was + talking about. But a soldier that I recognized as having arrested my son + the evening before pointed out a van that was passing, covered with a + tarpaulin and surrounded by Cossacks. ‘Your son is there,’ he said; ‘they + are taking him to the graves.’ Mad with despair, I ran after the van. It + went to the outskirts of Golountrine cemetery. There I saw in the white + snow a huge grave, wide, deep. I shall see it to my last minute. Two vans + had already stopped near the hole. Each van held thirteen corpses. The + vans were dumped into the trench and the soldiers commenced to sort the + bodies into rows of six. I watched for my son. At last I recognized him in + a body that half hung over the edge of the trench. Horrors of suffering + were stamped in the expression of his face. I threw myself beside him. I + said that I was his father. They let me embrace him a last time and count + his wounds. He had fourteen. Someone had stolen the gold chain that had + hung about his neck and held the picture of his mother, who died the year + before. I whispered into his ear, I swore to avenge him. Forty-eight hours + later I had placed myself at the disposition of the Revolutionary + Committee. A week had not passed before Touman, whom, it seems, I resemble + and who was one of the Secret Service agents in Kiew, was assassinated in + the train that was taking him to St. Petersburg. The assassination was + kept a secret. I received all his papers and I took his place with you. I + was doomed beforehand and I asked nothing better, so long as I might last + until after the execution of Trebassof. Ah, how I longed to kill him with + my own hands! But another had already been assigned the duty and my role + was to help him. And do you suppose I am going to tell you the name of + that other? Never! And if you discover that other, as you have discovered + me, another will come, and another, and another, until Trebassof has paid + for his crimes. That is all I have to say to you, Koupriane. As for you, + my little fellow,” added he, turning to Rouletabille, “I wouldn’t give + much for your bones. Neither of you will last long. That is my + consolation.” + </p> + <p> + Koupriane had not interrupted the man. He looked at him in silence, sadly. + </p> + <p> + “You know, my poor man, you will be hanged now?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No,” growled Rouletabille. “Monsieur Koupriane, I’ll bet you my purse + that he will not be hanged.” + </p> + <p> + “And why not?” demanded the Chief of rolice, while, upon a sign from him, + they took away the false Touman. + </p> + <p> + “Because it is I who denounced him.” + </p> + <p> + “What a reason! And what would you like me to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Guard him for me; for me alone, do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “In exchange for what?” + </p> + <p> + “In exchange for the life of General Trebassof, if I must put it that + way.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? The life of General Trebassof! You speak as if it belonged to you, as + if you could dispose of it.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille laid his hand on Koupriane’s arm. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps that’s so,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Would you like me to tell you one thing, Monsieur Rouletabille? It is + that General Trebassof’s life, after what has just escaped the lips of + this Touman, who is not Touman, isn’t worth any more than—than yours + if you remain here. Since you are disposed not to do anything more in this + affair, take the train, monsieur, take the train, and go.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille walked back and forth, very much worked up; then suddenly he + stopped short. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible,” he said. “It is impossible. I cannot; I am not able to go + yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Good God, Monsieur Koupriane, because I have to interview the President + of the Duma yet, and complete my little inquiry into the politics of the + cadets.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed!” + </p> + <p> + Koupriane looked at him with a sour grin. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do with that man?” demanded Rouletabille. + </p> + <p> + “Have him fixed up first.” + </p> + <p> + “And then?” + </p> + <p> + “Then take him before the judges.” + </p> + <p> + “That is to say, to the gallows?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Koupriane, I offer it to you again. Life for life. Give me the + life of that poor devil and I promise you General Trebassof’s.” + </p> + <p> + “Explain yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. Do you promise me that you will maintain silence about the + case of that man and that you will not touch a hair of his head?” + </p> + <p> + Koupriane looked at Rouletabille as he had looked at him during the + altercation they had on the edge of the Gulf. He decided the same way this + time. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said he. “You have my word. The poor devil!” + </p> + <p> + “You are a brave man, Monsieur Koupriane, but a little quick with the + whip...” + </p> + <p> + “What would you expect? One’s work teaches that.” + </p> + <p> + “Good morning. No, don’t trouble to show me out. I am compromised enough + already,” said Rouletabille, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Au revoir, and good luck! Get to work interviewing the President of the + Duma,” added Koupriane knowingly, with a great laugh. + </p> + <p> + But Rouletabille was already gone. + </p> + <p> + “That lad,” said the Chief of Police aloud to himself, “hasn’t told me a + bit of what he knows.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. ANNOUCHKA + </h2> + <p> + “And now it’s between us two, Natacha,” murmured Rouletabille as soon as + he was outside. He hailed the first carriage that passed and gave the + address of the datcha des Iles. When he got in he held his head between + his hands; his face burned, his jaws were set. But by a prodigious effort + of his will he resumed almost instantly his calm, his self-control. As he + went back across the Neva, across the bridge where he had felt so elated a + little while before, and saw the isles again he sighed heavily. “I thought + I had got it all over with, so far as I was concerned, and now I don’t + know where it will stop.” His eyes grew dark for a moment with somber + thoughts and the vision of the Lady in Black rose before him; then he + shook his head, filled his pipe, lighted it, dried a tear that had been + caused doubtless by a little smoke in his eye, and stopped + sentimentalizing. A quarter of an hour later he gave a true Russian + nobleman’s fist-blow in the back to the coachman as an intimation that + they had reached the Trebassof villa. A charming picture was before him. + They were all lunching gayly in the garden, around the table in the + summer-house. He was astonished, however, at not seeing Natacha with them. + Boris Mourazoff and Michael Korsakoff were there. Rouletabille did not + wish to be seen. He made a sign to Ermolai, who was passing through the + garden and who hurried to meet him at the gate. + </p> + <p> + “The Barinia,” said the reporter, in a low voice and with his finger to + his lips to warn the faithful attendant to caution. + </p> + <p> + In two minutes Matrena Petrovna joined Rouletabille in the lodge. + </p> + <p> + “Well, where is Natacha?” he demanded hurriedly as she kissed his hands + quite as though she had made an idol of him. + </p> + <p> + “She has gone away. Yes, out. Oh, I did not keep her. I did not try to + hold her back. Her expression frightened me, you can understand, my little + angel. My, you are impatient! What is it about? How do we stand? What have + you decided? I am your slave. Command me. Command me. The keys of the + villa?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, give me a key to the veranda; you must have several. I must be able + to get into the house to-night if it becomes necessary.” + </p> + <p> + She drew a key from her gown, gave it to the young man and said a few + words in Russian to Ermolai, to enforce upon him that he must obey the + little domovoi-doukh in anything, day or night. + </p> + <p> + “Now tell me where Natacha has gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Boris’s parents came to see us a little while ago, to inquire after the + general. They have taken Natacha away with them, as they often have done. + Natacha went with them readily enough. Little domovoi, listen to me, + listen to Matrena Petrovna—Anyone would have said she was expecting + it!” + </p> + <p> + “Then she has gone to lunch at their house?” + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless, unless they have gone to a cafe. I don’t know. Boris’s father + likes to have the family lunch at the Barque when it is fine. Calm + yourself, little domovoi. What ails you? Bad news, eh? Any bad news?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; everything is all right. Quick, the address of Boris’s family.” + </p> + <p> + “The house at the corner of La Place St. Isaac and la rue de la Poste.” + </p> + <p> + “Good. Thank you. Adieu.” + </p> + <p> + He started for the Place St. Isaac, and picked up an interpreter at the + Grand Morskaia Hotel on the way. It might be useful to have him. At the + Place St. Isaac he learned the Morazoffs and Natacha Trebassof had gone by + train for luncheon at Bergalowe, one of the nearby stations in Finland. + </p> + <p> + “That is all,” said he, and added apart to himself, “And perhaps that is + not true.” + </p> + <p> + He paid the coachman and the interpreter, and lunched at the Brasserie de + Vienne nearby. He left there a half-hour later, much calmer. He took his + way to the Grand Morskaia Hotel, went inside and asked the schwitzar: + </p> + <p> + “Can you give me the address of Mademoiselle Annouchka?” + </p> + <p> + “The singer of the Krestowsky?” + </p> + <p> + “That is who I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “She had luncheon here. She has just gone away with the prince.” + </p> + <p> + Without any curiosity as to which prince, Rouletabille cursed his luck and + again asked for her address. + </p> + <p> + “Why, she lives in an apartment just across the way.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille, feeling better, crossed the street, followed by the + interpreter that he had engaged. Across the way he learned on the landing + of the first floor that Mademoiselle Annouchka was away for the day. He + descended, still followed by his interpreter, and recalling how someone + had told him that in Russia it was always profitable to be generous, he + gave five roubles to the interpreter and asked him for some information + about Mademoiselle Annouchka’s life in St. Petersburg. The interpreter + whispered: + </p> + <p> + “She arrived a week ago, but has not spent a single night in her apartment + over there.” + </p> + <p> + He pointed to the house they had just left, and added: + </p> + <p> + “Merely her address for the police.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” said Rouletabille, “I understand. She sings this evening, + doesn’t she?” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, it will be a wonderful debut.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I know. Thanks.” + </p> + <p> + All these frustrations in the things he had undertaken that day instead of + disheartening him plunged him deep into hard thinking. He returned, his + hands in his pockets, whistling softly, to the Place St. Isaac, walked + around the church, keeping an eye on the house at the corner, investigated + the monument, went inside, examined all its details, came out marveling, + and finally went once again to the residence of the Mourazoffs, was told + that they had not yet returned from the Finland town, then went and shut + himself in his room at the hotel, where he smoked a dozen pipes of + tobacco. He emerged from his cloud of smoke at dinner-time. + </p> + <p> + At ten that evening he stepped out of his carriage before the Krestowsky. + The establishment of Krestowsky, which looms among the Isles much as the + Aquarium does, is neither a theater, nor a music-hall, nor a cafe-concert, + nor a restaurant, nor a public garden; it is all of these and some other + things besides. Summer theater, winter theater, open-air theater, hall for + spectacles, scenic mountain, exercise-ground, diversions of all sorts, + garden promenades, cafes, restaurants, private dining-rooms, everything is + combined here that can amuse, charm, lead to the wildest orgies, or + provide those who never think of sleep till toward three or four o’clock + of a morning the means to await the dawn with patience. The most + celebrated companies of the old and the new world play there amid an + enthusiasm that is steadily maintained by the foresight of the managers: + Russian and foreign dancers, and above all the French chanteuses, the + little dolls of the cafes-concerts, so long as they are young, bright, and + elegantly dressed, may meet their fortune there. If there is no such luck, + they are sure at least to find every evening some old beau, and often some + officer, who willingly pays twenty-five roubles for the sole pleasure of + having a demoiselle born on the banks of the Seine for his companion at + the supper-table. After their turn at the singing, these women display + their graces and their eager smiles in the promenades of the garden or + among the tables where the champagne-drinkers sit. The head-liners, + naturally, are not driven to this wearying perambulation, but can go away + to their rest if they are so inclined. However, the management is + appreciative if they accept the invitation of some dignitary of the army, + of administration, or of finance, who seeks the honor of hearing from the + chanteuse, in a private room and with a company of friends not disposed to + melancholy, the Bohemian songs of the Vieux Derevnia. They sing, they + loll, they talk of Paris, and above all they drink. If sometimes the + little fete ends rather roughly, it is the friendly and affectionate + champagne that is to blame, but usually the orgies remain quite innocent, + of a character that certainly might trouble the temperance societies but + need not make M. le Senateur Berenger feel involved. + </p> + <p> + A war whose powder fumes reeked still, a revolution whose last defeated + growls had not died away at the period of these events, had not at all + diminished the nightly gayeties of Kretowsky. Many of the young men who + displayed their uniforms that evening and called their “Nichevo” along the + brilliantly lighted paths of the public gardens, or filled the open-air + tables, or drank vodka at the buffets, or admired the figures of the + wandering soubrettes, had come here on the eve of their departure for the + war and had returned with the same child-like, enchanted smile, the same + ideal of futile joy, and kissed their passing comrades as gayly as ever. + Some of them had a sleeve lying limp now, or walked with a crutch, or even + on a wooden leg, but it was, all the same, “Nichevo!” + </p> + <p> + The crowd this evening was denser than ordinarily, because there was the + chance to hear Annouchka again for the first time since the somber days of + Moscow. The students were ready to give her an ovation, and no one opposed + it, because, after all, if she sang now it was because the police were + willing at last. If the Tsar’s government had granted her her life, it was + not in order to compel her to die of hunger. Each earned a livelihood as + was possible. Annouchka only knew how to sing and dance, and so she must + sing and dance! + </p> + <p> + When Rouletabille entered the Krestowsky Gardens, Annouchka had commenced + her number, which ended with a tremendous “Roussalka.” Surrounded by a + chorus of male and female dancers in the national dress and with red + boots, striking tambourines with their fingers, then suddenly taking a + rigid pose to let the young woman’s voice, which was of rather ordinary + register, come out, Annouchka had centered the attention of the immense + audience upon herself. All the other parts of the establishment were + deserted, the tables had been removed, and a panting crowd pressed about + the open-air theater. Rouletabille stood up on his chair at the moment + tumultuous “Bravos” sounded from a group of students. Annouchka bowed + toward them, seeming to ignore the rest of the audience, which had not + dared declare itself yet. She sang the old peasant songs arranged to + present-day taste, and interspersed them with dances. They had an enormous + success, because she gave her whole soul to them and sang with her voice + sometimes caressing, sometimes menacing, and sometimes magnificently + desperate, giving much significance to words which on paper had not + aroused the suspicions of the censor. The taste of the day was obviously + still a taste for the revolution, which retained its influence on the + banks of the Neva. What she was doing was certainly very bold, and + apparently she realized how audacious she was, because, with great + adroitness, she would bring out immediately after some dangerous phrase a + patriotic couplet which everybody was anxious to applaud. She succeeded by + such means in appealing to all the divergent groups of her audience and + secured a complete triumph for herself. The students, the revolutionaries, + the radicals and the cadets acclaimed the singer, glorifying not only her + art but also and beyond everything else the sister of the engineer + Volkousky, who had been doomed to perish with her brother by the bullets + of the Semenovsky regiment. The friends of the Court on their side could + not forget that it was she who, in front of the Kremlin, had struck aside + the arm of Constantin Kochkarof, ordered by the Central Revolutionary + Committee to assassinate the Grand Duke Peter Alexandrovitch as he drove + up to the governor’s house in his sleigh. The bomb burst ten feet away, + killing Constantin Kochkarof himself. It may be that before death came he + had time to hear Annouchka cry to him, “Wretch! You were told to kill the + prince, not to assassinate his children.” As it happened, Peter + Alexandrovitch held on his knees the two little princesses, seven and + eight years old. The Court had wished to recompense her for that heroic + act. Annouchka had spit at the envoy of the Chief of Police who called to + speak to her of money. At the Hermitage in Moscow, where she sang then, + some of her admirers had warned her of possible reprisals on the part of + the revolutionaries. But the revolutionaries gave her assurance at once + that she had nothing to fear. They approved her act and let her know that + they now counted on her to kill the Grand Duke some time when he was + alone; which had made Annouchka laugh. She was an enfant terrible, whose + friends no one knew, who passed for very wise, and whose lines of intrigue + were inscrutable. She enjoyed making her hosts in the private supper-rooms + quake over their meal. One day she had said bluntly to one of the most + powerful tchinovnicks of Moscow: “You, my old friend, you are president of + the Black Hundred. Your fate is sealed. Yesterday you were condemned to + death by the delegates of the Central Committee at Presnia. Say your + prayers.” The man reached for champagne. He never finished his glass. The + dvornicks carried him out stricken with apoplexy. Since the time she saved + the little grand-duchesses the police had orders to allow her to act and + talk as she pleased. She had been mixed up in the deepest plots against + the government. Those who lent the slightest countenance to such plottings + and were not of the police simply disappeared. Their friends dared not + even ask for news of them. The only thing not in doubt about them was that + they were at hard labor somewhere in the mines of the Ural Mountains. At + the moment of the revolution Annouchka had a brother who was an engineer + on the Kasan-Moscow line. This Volkousky was one of the leaders on the + Strike Committee. The authorities had an eye on him. The revolution + started. He, with the help of his sister, accomplished one of those + formidable acts which will carry their memory as heroes to the farthest + posterity. Their work accomplished, they were taken by Trebassof’s + soldiers. Both were condemned to death. Volkousky was executed first, and + the sister was taking her turn when an officer of the government arrived + on horseback to stop the firing. The Tsar, informed of her intended fate, + had sent a pardon by telegraph. After that she disappeared. She was + supposed to have gone on some tour across Europe, as was her habit, for + she spoke all the languages, like a true Bohemian. Now she had reappeared + in all her joyous glory at Krestowsky. It was certain, however, that she + had not forgotten her brother. Gossips said that if the government and the + police showed themselves so long-enduring they found it to their interest + to do so. The open, apparent life Annouchka led was less troublesome to + them than her hidden activities would be. The lesser police who surrounded + the Chief of the St. Petersburg Secret Service, the famous Gounsovski, had + meaning smiles when the matter was discussed. Among them Annouchka had the + ignoble nickname, “Stool-pigeon.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille must have been well aware of all these particulars concerning + Annouchka, for he betrayed no astonishment at the great interest and the + strong emotion she aroused. From the corner where he was he could see only + a bit of the stage, and he was standing on tiptoes to see the singer when + he felt his coat pulled. He turned. It was the jolly advocate, well known + for his gastronomic feats, Athanase Georgevitch, along with the jolly + Imperial councilor, Ivan Petrovitch, who motioned him to climb down. + </p> + <p> + “Come with us; we have a box.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille did not need urging, and he was soon installed in the front + of a box where he could see the stage and the public both. Just then the + curtain fell on the first part of Annouchka’s performance. The friends + were soon rejoined by Thaddeus Tchitchnikoff, the great timber-merchant, + who came from behind the scenes. + </p> + <p> + “I have been to see the beautiful Onoto,” announced the Lithuanian with a + great satisfied laugh. “Tell me the news. All the girls are sulking over + Annouchka’s success.” + </p> + <p> + “Who dragged you into the Onoto’s dressing-room then?" demanded Athanase. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Gounsovski himself, my dear. He is very amateurish, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “What! do you knock around with Gounsovski?” + </p> + <p> + “On my word, I tell you, dear friends, he isn’t a bad acquaintance. He did + me a little service at Bakou last year. A good acquaintance in these times + of public trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “You are in the oil business now, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, a little of everything for a livelihood. I have a little well + down Bakou way, nothing big; and a little house, a very small one for my + small business.” + </p> + <p> + “What a monopolist Thaddeus is,” declared Athanase Georgevitch, hitting + him a formidable slap on the thigh with his enormous hand. “Gounsovski has + come himself to keep an eye on Annouchka’s debut, eh? Only he goes into + Onoto’s dressing-room, the rogue.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he doesn’t trouble himself. Do you know who he is to have supper + with? With Annouchka, my dears, and we are invited.” + </p> + <p> + “How’s that?” inquired the jovial councilor. + </p> + <p> + “It seems Gounsovski influenced the minister to permit Annouchka’s + performance by declaring he would be responsible for it all. He required + from Annouchka solely that she have supper with him on the evening of her + debut.” + </p> + <p> + “And Annouchka consented?” + </p> + <p> + “That was the condition, it seems. For that matter, they say that + Annouchka and Gounsovski don’t get along so badly together. Gounsovski has + done Annouchka many a good turn. They say he is in love with her.” + </p> + <p> + “He has the air of an umbrella merchant,” snorted Athanase Georgevitch. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen him at close range?” inquired Ivan. + </p> + <p> + “I have dined at his house, though it is nothing to boast of, on my word.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what he said,” replied Thaddeus. “When he knew we were here + together, he said to me: ‘Bring him, he is a charming fellow who plies a + great fork; and bring that dear man Ivan Petrovitch, and all your + friends.’” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I only dined at his house,” grumbled Athanase, “because there was a + favor he was going to do me.” + </p> + <p> + “He does services for everybody, that man,” observed Ivan Petrovitch. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, of course; he ought to,” retorted Athanase. “What is a chief + of Secret Service for if not to do things for everybody? For everybody, my + dear friends, and a little for himself besides. A chief of Secret Service + has to be in with everybody, with everybody and his father, as La Fontaine + says (if you know that author), if he wants to hold his place. You know + what I mean.” + </p> + <p> + Athanase laughed loudly, glad of the chance to show how French he could be + in his allusions, and looked at Rouletabille to see if he had been able to + catch the tone of the conversation; but Rouletabille was too much occupied + in watching a profile wrapped in a mantilla of black lace, in the Spanish + fashion, to repay Athanase’s performance with a knowing smile. + </p> + <p> + “You certainly have naive notions. You think a chief of Secret Police + should be an ogre,” replied the advocate as he nodded here and there to + his friends. + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly not. He needs to be a sheep in a place like that, a + thorough sheep. Gounsovski is soft as a sheep. The time I dined with him + he had mutton streaked with fat. He is just like that. I am sure he is + mainly layers of fat. When you shake hands you feel as though you had + grabbed a piece of fat. My word! And when he eats he wags his jaw + fattishly. His head is like that, too; bald, you know, with a cranium like + fresh lard. He speaks softly and looks at you like a kid looking to its + mother for a juicy meal.” + </p> + <p> + “But—why—it is Natacha!” murmured the lips of the young man. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly it is Natacha, Natacha herself,” exclaimed Ivan Petrovitch, who + had used his glasses the better to see whom the young French journalist + was looking at. “Ah, the dear child! she has wanted to see Annouchka for a + long time.” + </p> + <p> + “What, Natacha! So it is. So it is. Natacha! Natacha!” said the others. + “And with Boris Mourazoff’s parents.” + </p> + <p> + “But Boris is not there,” sniggered Thaddeus Tehitchnikoff. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he can’t be far away. If he was there we would see Michael Korsakoff + too. They keep close on each other’s heels.” + </p> + <p> + “How has she happened to leave the general? She said she couldn’t bear to + be away from him.” + </p> + <p> + “Except to see Annouchka,” replied Ivan. “She wanted to see her, and + talked so about it when I was there that even Feodor Feodorovitch was + rather scandalized at her and Matrena Petrovna reproved her downright + rudely. But what a girl wishes the gods bring about. That’s the way.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s so, I know,” put in Athanase. “Ivan Petrovitch is right. Natacha + hasn’t been able to hold herself in since she read that Annouchka was + going to make her debut at Krestowsky. She said she wasn’t going to die + without having seen the great artist.” + </p> + <p> + “Her father had almost drawn her away from that crowd,” affirmed Ivan, + “and that was as it should be. She must have fixed up this affair with + Boris and his parents.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Feodor certainly isn’t aware that his daughter’s idea was to applaud + the heroine of Kasan station. She is certainly made of stern stuff, my + word,” said Athanase. + </p> + <p> + “Natacha, you must remember, is a student,” said Thaddeus, shaking his + head; “a true student. They have misfortunes like that now in so many + families. I recall, apropos of what Ivan said just now, how today she + asked Michael Korsakoff, before me, to let her know where Annouchka would + sing. More yet, she said she wished to speak to that artist if it were + possible. Michael frowned on that idea, even before me. But Michael + couldn’t refuse her, any more than the others. He can reach Annouchka + easier than anyone else. You remember it was he who rode hard and arrived + in time with the pardon for that beautiful witch; she ought not to forget + him if she cared for her life.” + </p> + <p> + “Anyone who knows Michael Nikolaievitch knows that he did his duty + promptly,” announced Athanase Georgevitch crisply. “But he would not have + gone a step further to save Annouchka. Even now he won’t compromise his + career by being seen at the home of a woman who is never from under the + eyes of Gounsovski’s agents and who hasn’t been nicknamed ‘Stool-pigeon’ + for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why do we go to supper tonight with Annouchka?” asked Ivan. + </p> + <p> + “That’s not the same thing. We are invited by Gounsovski himself. Don’t + forget that, if stories concerning it drift about some day, my friends,” + said Thaddeus. + </p> + <p> + “For that matter, Thaddeus, I accept the invitation of the honorable chief + of our admirable Secret Service because I don’t wish to slight him. I have + dined at his house already. By sitting opposite him at a public table here + I feel that I return that politeness. What do you say to that?” + </p> + <p> + “Since you have dined with him, tell us what kind of a man he is aside + from his fattish qualities,” said the curious councilor. “So many things + are said about him. He certainly seems to be a man it is better to stand + in with than to fall out with, so I accept his invitation. How could you + manage to refuse it, anyway?” + </p> + <p> + “When he first offered me hospitality,” explained the advocate, “I didn’t + even know him. I never had been near him. One day a police agent came and + invited me to dinner by command—or, at least, I understood it wasn’t + wise to refuse the invitation, as you said, Ivan Petrovitch. When I went + to his house I thought I was entering a fortress, and inside I thought it + must be an umbrella shop. There were umbrellas everywhere, and goloshes. + True, it was a day of pouring rain. I was struck by there being no guard + with a big revolver in the antechamber. He had a little, timid schwitzar + there, who took my umbrella, murmuring ‘barine’ and bowing over and over + again. He conducted me through very ordinary rooms quite unguarded to an + average sitting-room of a common kind. We dined with Madame Gounsovski, + who appeared fattish like her husband, and three or four men whom I had + never seen anywhere. One servant waited on us. My word! + </p> + <p> + “At dessert Gounsovski took me aside and told me I was unwise to ‘argue + that way.’ I asked him what he meant by that. He took my hands between his + fat hands and repeated, ‘No, no, it is not wise to argue like that.’ I + couldn’t draw anything else out of him. For that matter, I understood him, + and, you know, since that day I have cut out certain side passages + unnecessary in my general law pleadings that had been giving me a + reputation for rather too free opinions in the papers. None of that at my + age! Ah, the great Gounsovski! Over our coffee I asked him if he didn’t + find the country in pretty strenuous times. He replied that he looked + forward with impatience to the month of May, when he could go for a rest + to a little property with a small garden that he had bought at Asnieres, + near Paris. When he spoke of their house in the country Madame Gounsovski + heaved a sigh of longing for those simple country joys. The month of May + brought tears to her eyes. Husband and wife looked at one another with + real tenderness. They had not the air of thinking for one second: + to-morrow or the day after, before our country happiness comes, we may + find ourselves stripped of everything. No! They were sure of their happy + vacation and nothing seemed able to disquiet them under their fat. + Gounsovski has done everybody so many services that no one really wishes + him ill, poor man. Besides, have you noticed, my dear old friends, that no + one ever tries to work harm to chiefs of Secret Police? One goes after + heads of police, prefects of police, ministers, grand-dukes, and even + higher, but the chiefs of Secret Police are never, never attacked. They + can promenade tranquilly in the streets or in the gardens of Krestowsky or + breathe the pure air of the Finland country or even the country around + Paris. They have done so many little favors for this one and that, here + and there, that no one wishes to do them the least injury. Each person + always thinks, too, that others have been less well served than he. That + is the secret of the thing, my friends, that is the secret. What do you + say?” + </p> + <p> + The others said: “Ah, ah, the good Gounsovski. He knows. He knows. + Certainly, accept his supper. With Annouchka it will be fun.” + </p> + <p> + “Messieurs,” asked Rouletabille, who continued to make discoveries in the + audience, “do you know that officer who is seated at the end of a row down + there in the orchestra seats? See, he is getting up.” + </p> + <p> + “He? Why, that is Prince Galitch, who was one of the richest lords of the + North Country. Now he is practically ruined.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, gentlemen; certainly it is he. I know him,” said Rouletabille, + seating himself and mastering his emotion. + </p> + <p> + “They say he is a great admirer of Annouchka,” hazarded Thaddeus. Then he + walked away from the box. + </p> + <p> + “The prince has been ruined by women,” said Athanase Georgevitch, who + pretended to know the entire chronicle of gallantries in the empire. + </p> + <p> + “He also has been on good terms with Gounsovski,” continued Thaddeus. + </p> + <p> + “He passes at court, though, for an unreliable. He once made a long visit + to Tolstoi.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! Gounsovski must have rendered some signal service to that imprudent + prince,” concluded Athanase. “But for yourself, Thaddeus, you haven’t said + what you did with Gounsovski at Bakou.” + </p> + <p> + (Rouletabille did not lose a word of what was being said around him, + although he never lost sight of the profile hidden in the black mantle nor + of Prince Galitch, his personal enemy,* who reappeared, it seemed to him, + at a very critical moment.) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * as told in “The Lady In Black.” + </pre> + <p> + “I was returning from Balakani in a drojki,” said Thaddeus Tchitchnikoff, + “and I was drawing near Bakou after having seen the debris of my oil + shafts that had been burned by the Tartars, when I met Gounsovski in the + road, who, with two of his friends, found themselves badly off with one of + the wheels of their carriage broken. I stopped. He explained to me that he + had a Tartar coachman, and that this coachman having seen an Armenian on + the road before him, could find nothing better to do than run full tilt + into the Armenian’s equipage. He had reached over and taken the reins from + him, but a wheel of the carriage was broken.” (Rouletabille quivered, + because he caught a glance of communication between Prince Galitch and + Natacha, who was leaning over the edge of her box.) “So I offered to take + Gounsovski and his friends into my carriage, and we rode all together to + Bakou after Gounsovski, who always wishes to do a service, as Athanase + Georgevitch says, had warned his Tartar coachman not to finish the + Armenian.” (Prince Galitch, at the moment the orchestra commenced the + introductory music for Annouchka’s new number, took advantage of all eyes + being turned toward the rising curtain to pass near Natacha’s seat. This + time he did not look at Natacha, but Rouletabille was sure that his lips + had moved as he went by her.) + </p> + <p> + Thaddeus continued: “It is necessary to explain that at Bakou my little + house is one of the first before you reach the quay. I had some Armenian + employees there. When arrived, what do you suppose I saw? A file of + soldiers with cannon, yes, with a cannon, on my word, turned against my + house and an officer saying quietly, ‘there it is. Fire!’” (Rouletabille + made yet another discovery—two, three discoveries. Near by, standing + back of Natacha’s seat, was a figure not unknown to the young reporter, + and there, in one of the orchestra chairs, were two other men whose faces + he had seen that same morning in Koupriane’s barracks. Here was where a + memory for faces stood him in good stead. He saw that he was not the only + person keeping close watch on Natacha.) “When I heard what the officer + said,” Thaddeus went on, “I nearly dropped out of the drojki. I hurried to + the police commissioner. He explained the affair promptly, and I was quick + to understand. During my absence one of my Armenian employees had fired at + a Tartar who was passing. For that matter, he had killed him. The governor + was informed and had ordered the house to be bombarded, for an example, as + had been done with several others. I found Gounsovski and told him the + trouble in two words. He said it wasn’t necessary for him to interfere in + the affair, that I had only to talk to the officer. ‘Give him a good + present, a hundred roubles, and he will leave your house. I went back to + the officer and took him aside; he said he wanted to do anything that he + could for me, but that the order was positive to bombard the house. I + reported his answer to Gounsovski, who told me: ‘Tell him then to turn the + muzzle of the cannon the other way and bombard the building of the chemist + across the way, then he can always say that he mistook which house was + intended.’ I did that, and he had them turn the cannon. They bombarded the + chemist’s place, and I got out of the whole thing for the hundred roubles. + Gounsovski, the good fellow, may be a great lump of fat and be like an + umbrella merchant, but I have always been grateful to him from the bottom + of my heart, you can understand, Athanase Georgevitch.” + </p> + <p> + “What reputation has Prince Galitch at the court?” inquired Rouletabille + all at once. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, oh!” laughed the others. “Since he went so openly to visit Tolstoi he + doesn’t go to the court any more.” + </p> + <p> + “And—his opinions? What are his opinions?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the opinions of everybody are so mixed nowadays, nobody knows.” + </p> + <p> + Ivan Petrovitch said, “He passes among some people as very advanced and + very much compromised.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet they don’t bother him?” inquired Rouletabille. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh, pooh,” replied the gay Councilor of Empire, “it is rather he who + tries to mix with them.” + </p> + <p> + Thaddeus stooped down and said, “They say that he can’t be reached because + of the hold he has over a certain great personage in the court, and it + would be a scandal—a great scandal.” + </p> + <p> + “Be quiet, Thaddeus,” interrupted Athanase Georgevitch, roughly. “It is + easy to see that you are lately from the provinces to speak so recklessly, + but if you go on this way I shall leave.” + </p> + <p> + “Athanase Georgevitch is right; hang onto your mouth, Thaddeus,” counseled + Ivan Petrovitch. + </p> + <p> + The talkers all grew silent, for the curtain was rising. In the audience + there were mysterious allusions being made to this second number of + Annouchka, but no one seemed able to say what it was to be, and it was, as + a matter of fact, very simple. After the whirl-wind of dances and choruses + and all the splendor with which she had been accompanied the first time, + Annouchka appeared as a poor Russian peasant in a scene representing the + barren steppes, and very simply she sank to her knees and recited her + evening prayers. Annouchka was singularly beautiful. Her aquiline nose + with sensitive nostrils, the clean-cut outline of her eyebrows, her look + that now was almost tender, now menacing, always unusual, her pale rounded + cheeks and the entire expression of her face showed clearly the strength + of new ideas, spontaneity, deep resolution and, above all, passion. The + prayer was passionate. She had an admirable contralto voice which affected + the audience strangely from its very first notes. She asked God for daily + bread for everyone in the immense Russian land, daily bread for the flesh + and for the spirit, and she stirred the tears of everyone there, to + which-ever party they belonged. And when, as her last note sped across the + desolate steppe and she rose and walked toward the miserable hut, frantic + bravos from a delirious audience told her the prodigious emotions she had + aroused. Little Rouletabille, who, not understanding the words, + nevertheless caught the spirit of that prayer, wept. Everybody wept. Ivan + Petrovitch, Athanase Georgevitch, Thaddeus Tchitchnikoff were standing up, + stamping their feet and clapping their hands like enthusiastic boys. The + students, who could be easily distinguished by the uniform green edging + they wore on their coats, uttered insensate cries. And suddenly there rose + the first strains of the national hymn. There was hesitation at first, a + wavering. But not for long. Those who had been dreading some + counter-demonstration realized that no objection could possibly be raised + to a prayer for the Tsar. All heads uncovered and the Bodje Taara Krari + mounted, unanimously, toward the stars. + </p> + <p> + Through his tears the young reporter never gave up his close watch on + Natacha. She had half risen, and, sinking back, leaned on the edge of the + box. She called, time and time again, a name that Rouletabille could not + hear in the uproar, but that he felt sure was “Annouchka! Annouchka!” “The + reckless girl,” murmured Rouletabille, and, profiting by the general + excitement, he left the box without being noticed. He made his way through + the crowd toward Natacha, whom he had sought futilely since morning. The + audience, after clamoring in vain for a repetition of the prayer by + Annouchka, commenced to disperse, and the reporter was swept along with + them for a few moments. When he reached the range of boxes he saw that + Natacha and the family she had been with were gone. He looked on all sides + without seeing the object of his search and like a madman commenced to run + through the passages, when a sudden idea struck his blood cold. He + inquired where the exit for the artists was and as soon as it was pointed + out, he hurried there. He was not mistaken. In the front line of the crowd + that waited to see Annouchka come out he recognized Natacha, with her head + enveloped in the black mantle so that none should see her face. Besides, + this corner of the garden was in a half-gloom. The police barred the way; + he could not approach as near Natacha as he wished. He set himself to slip + like a serpent through the crowd. He was not separated from Natacha by + more than four or five persons when a great jostling commenced. Annouchka + was coming out. Cries rose: “Annouchka! Annouchka!” Rouletabille threw + himself on his knees and on all-fours succeeded in sticking his head + through into the way kept by the police for Annouchka’s passage. There, + wrapped in a great red mantle, his hat on his arm, was a man Rouletabille + immediately recognized. It was Prince Galitch. They were hurrying to + escape the impending pressure of the crowd. But Annouchka as she passed + near Natacha stopped just a second—a movement that did not escape + Rouletabille—and, turning toward her said just the one word, + “Caracho.” Then she passed on. Rouletabille got up and forced his way + back, having once more lost Natacha. He searched for her. He ran to the + carriage-way and arrived just in time to see her seated in a carriage with + the Mourazoff family. The carriage started at once in the direction of the + datcha des Iles. The young man remained standing there, thinking. He made + a gesture as though he were ready now to let luck take its course. “In the + end,” said he, “it will be better so, perhaps,” and then, to himself, “Now + to supper, my boy.” + </p> + <p> + He turned in his tracks and soon was established in the glaring light of + the restaurant. Officers standing, glass in hand, were saluting from table + to table and waving a thousand compliments with grace that was almost + feminine. + </p> + <p> + He heard his name called joyously, and recognized the voice of Ivan + Petrovitch. The three boon companions were seated over a bottle of + champagne resting in its ice-bath and were being served with tiny pates + while they waited for the supper-hour, which was now near. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille yielded to their invitation readily enough, and accompanied + them when the head-waiter informed Thaddeus that the gentlemen were + desired in a private room. They went to the first floor and were ushered + into a large apartment whose balcony opened on the hall of the + winter-theater, empty now. But the apartment was already occupied. Before + a table covered with a shining service Gounsovski did the honors. + </p> + <p> + He received them like a servant, with his head down, an obsequious smile, + and his back bent, bowing several times as each of the guests were + presented to him. Athanase had described him accurately enough, a mannikin + in fat. Under the vast bent brow one could hardly see his eyes, behind the + blue glasses that seemed always ready to fall as he inclined too far his + fat head with its timid and yet all-powerful glance. When he spoke in his + falsetto voice, his chin dropped in a fold over his collar, and he had a + steady gesture with the thumb and index finger of his right hand to retain + the glasses from sliding down his short, thick nose. + </p> + <p> + Behind him there was the fine, haughty silhouette of Prince Galitch. He + had been invited by Annouchka, for she had consented to risk this supper + only in company with three or four of her friends, officers who could not + be further compromised by this affair, as they were already under the eye + of the Okrana (Secret Police) despite their high birth. Gounsovski had + seen them come with a sinister chuckle and had lavished upon them his + marks of devotion. + </p> + <p> + He loved Annouchka. It would have sufficed to have surprised just once the + jealous glance he sent from beneath his great blue glasses when he gazed + at the singer to have understood the sentiments that actuated him in the + presence of the beautiful daughter of the Black Land. + </p> + <p> + Annouchka was seated, or, rather, she lounged, Oriental fashion, on the + sofa which ran along the wall behind the table. She paid attention to no + one. Her attitude was forbidding, even hostile. She indifferently allowed + her marvelous black hair that fell in two tresses over her shoulder to be + caressed by the perfumed hands of the beautiful Onoto, who had heard her + this evening for the first time and had thrown herself with enthusiasm + into her arms after the last number. Onoto was an artist too, and the + pique she felt at first over Annouchka’s success could not last after the + emotion aroused by the evening prayer before the hut. “Come to supper,” + Annouchka had said to her. + </p> + <p> + “With whom?” inquired the Spanish artist. + </p> + <p> + “With Gounsovski.” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + “Do come. You will help me pay my debt and perhaps he will be useful to + you as well. He is useful to everybody.” + </p> + <p> + Decidedly Onoto did not understand this country, where the worst enemies + supped together. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille had been monopolized at once by Prince Galitch, who took him + into a corner and said: + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing here?” + </p> + <p> + “Do I inconvenience you?” asked the boy. + </p> + <p> + The other assumed the amused smile of the great lord. + </p> + <p> + “While there is still time,” he said, “believe me, you ought to start, to + quit this country. Haven’t you had sufficient notice?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the reporter. “And you can dispense with any further notice + from this time on.” + </p> + <p> + He turned his back. + </p> + <p> + “Why, it is the little Frenchman from the Trebassof villa,” commenced the + falsetto voice of Gounsovski as he pushed a seat towards the young man and + begged him to sit between him and Athanase Georgevitch, who was already + busy with the hors-d’oeuvres. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, monsieur?” said the beautiful, grave voice of Annouchka. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille saluted. + </p> + <p> + “I see that I am in a country of acquaintances,” he said, without + appearing disturbed. + </p> + <p> + He addressed a lively compliment to Annouchka, who threw him a kiss. + </p> + <p> + “Rouletabille!” cried la belle Onoto. “Why, then, he is the little fellow + who solved the mystery of the Yellow Room.” + </p> + <p> + “Himself.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing here?” + </p> + <p> + “He came to save the life of General Trebassof,” sniggered Gounsovski. “He + is certainly a brave little young man.” + </p> + <p> + “The police know everything,” said Rouletabille coldly. And he asked for + champagne, which he never drank. + </p> + <p> + The champagne commenced its work. While Thaddeus and the officers told + each other stories of Bakou or paid compliments to the women, Gounsovski, + who was through with raillery, leaned toward Rouletabille and gave that + young man fatherly counsel with great unction. + </p> + <p> + “You have undertaken, young man, a noble task and one all the more + difficult because General Trebassof is condemned not only by his enemies + but still more by the ignorance of Koupriane. Understand me thoroughly: + Koupriane is my friend and a man whom I esteem very highly. He is good, + brave as a warrior, but I wouldn’t give a kopeck for his police. He has + mixed in our affairs lately by creating his own secret police, but I don’t + wish to meddle with that. It amuses us. It’s the new style, anyway; + everybody wants his secret police nowadays. And yourself, young man, what, + after all, are you doing here? Reporting? No. Police work? That is our + business and your business. I wish you good luck, but I don’t expect it. + Remember that if you need any help I will give it you willingly. I love to + be of service. And I don’t wish any harm to befall you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind, monsieur,” was all Rouletabille replied, and he called + again for champagne. + </p> + <p> + Several times Gounsovski addressed remarks to Annouchka, who concerned + herself with her meal and had little answer for him. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know who applauded you the most this evening?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Annouchka indifferently. + </p> + <p> + “The daughter of General Trebassof.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is true, on my word,” cried Ivan Petrovitch. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, Natacha was there,” joined in the other friends from the datcha + des Iles. + </p> + <p> + “For me, I saw her weep,” said Rouletabille, looking at Annouchka fixedly. + </p> + <p> + But Annouchka replied in an icy tone: + </p> + <p> + “I do not know her.” + </p> + <p> + “She is unlucky in having a father...” Prince Galitch commenced. + </p> + <p> + “Prince, no politics, or let me take my leave,” clucked Gounsovski. “Your + health, dear Annouchka.” + </p> + <p> + “Your health, Gounsovski. But you have no worry about that.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” demanded Thaddeus Tchitchnikoff in equivocal fashion. + </p> + <p> + “Because he is too useful to the government,” cried Ivan Petrovitch. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Annouchka; “to the revolutionaries.” + </p> + <p> + All broke out laughing. Gounsovski recovered his slipping glasses by his + usual quick movement and sniggered softly, insinuatingly, like fat boiling + in the pot: + </p> + <p> + “So they say. And it is my strength.” + </p> + <p> + “His system is excellent,” said the prince. “As he is in with everybody, + everybody is in with the police, without knowing it.” + </p> + <p> + “They say... ah, ah... they say...” (Athanase was choking over a little + piece of toast that he had soaked in his soup) “they say that he has + driven away all the hooligans and even all the beggars of the church of + Kasan.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon they commenced to tell stories of the hooligans, street-thieves + who since the recent political troubles had infested St. Petersburg and + whom nobody, could get rid of without paying for it. + </p> + <p> + Athanase Georgevitch said: + </p> + <p> + “There are hooligans that ought to have existed even if they never have. + One of them stopped a young girl before Varsovie station. The girl, + frightened, immediately held out her purse to him, with two roubles and + fifty kopecks in it. The hooligan took it all. ‘Goodness,’ cried she, ‘I + have nothing now to take my train with.’ ‘How much is it?’ asked the + hooligan. ‘Sixty kopecks.’ ‘Sixty kopecks! Why didn’t you say so?’ And the + bandit, hanging onto the two roubles, returned the fifty-kopeck piece to + the trembling child and added a ten-kopeck piece out of his own pocket.” + </p> + <p> + “Something quite as funny happened to me two winters ago, at Moscow,” said + la belle Onoto. “I had just stepped out of the door when I was stopped by + a hooligan. ‘Give me twenty kopecks,’ said the hooligan. I was so + frightened that I couldn’t get my purse open. ‘Quicker,’ said he. Finally + I gave him twenty kopecks. ‘Now,’ said he then, ‘kiss my hand.’ And I had + to kiss it, because he held his knife in the other.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they are quick with their knives,” said Thaddeus. “As I was leaving + Gastinidvor once I was stopped by a hooligan who stuck a huge + carving-knife under my nose. ‘You can have it for a rouble and a half,’ he + said. You can believe that I bought it without any haggling. And it was a + very good bargain. It was worth at least three roubles. Your health, belle + Onoto.” + </p> + <p> + “I always take my revolver when I go out,” said Athanase. “It is more + prudent. I say this before the police. But I would rather be arrested by + the police than stabbed by the hooligans.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s no place any more to buy revolvers,” declared Ivan Petrovitch. + “All such places are closed.” + </p> + <p> + Gounsovski settled his glasses, rubbed his fat hands and said: + </p> + <p> + “There are some still at my locksmith’s place. The proof is that to-day in + the little Kaniouche my locksmith, whose name is Smith, went into the + house of the grocer at the corner and wished to sell him a revolver. It + was a Browning. ‘An arm of the greatest reliability,’ he said to him, + ‘which never misses fire and which works very easily.’ Having pronounced + these words, the locksmith tried his revolver and lodged a ball in the + grocer’s lung. The grocer is dead, but before he died he bought the + revolver. ‘You are right,’ he said to the locksmith; ‘it is a terrible + weapon.’ And then he died.” + </p> + <p> + The others laughed heartily. They thought it very funny. Decidedly this + great Gounsovski always had a funny story. Who would not like to be his + friend? Annouchka had deigned to smile. Gounsovski, in recognition, + extended his hand to her like a mendicant. The young woman touched it with + the end of her fingers, as if she were placing a twenty-kopeck piece in + the hand of a hooligan, and withdrew from it with disgust. Then the doors + opened for the Bohemians. Their swarthy troupe soon filled the room. Every + evening men and women in their native costumes came from old Derevnia, + where they lived all together in a sort of ancient patriarchal community, + with customs that had not changed for centuries; they scattered about in + the places of pleasure, in the fashionable restaurants, where they + gathered large sums, for it was a fashionable luxury to have them sing at + the end of suppers, and everyone showered money on them in order not to be + behind the others. They accompanied on guzlas, on castanets, on + tambourines, and sang the old airs, doleful and languorous, or excitable + and breathless as the flight of the earliest nomads in the beginnings of + the world. + </p> + <p> + When they had entered, those present made place for them, and + Rouletabille, who for some moments had been showing marks of fatigue and + of a giddiness natural enough in a young man who isn’t in the habit of + drinking the finest champagnes, profited by the diversion to get a corner + of the sofa not far from Prince Galitch, who occupied the place at + Annouchka’s right. + </p> + <p> + “Look, Rouletabaille is asleep,” remarked la belle Onoto. + </p> + <p> + “Poor boy!” said Annouchka. + </p> + <p> + And, turning toward Gounsovski: + </p> + <p> + “Aren’t you soon going to get him out of our way? I heard some of our + brethren the other day speaking in a way that would cause pain to those + who care about his health.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that,” said Gounsovski, shaking his head, “is an affair I have + nothing to do with. Apply to Koupriane. Your health, belle Annouchka.” + </p> + <p> + But the Bohemians swept some opening chords for their songs, and the + singers took everybody’s attention, everybody excepting Prince Galitch and + Annouchka, who, half turned toward one another, exchanged some words on + the edge of all this musical uproar. As for Rouletabille, he certainly + must have been sleeping soundly not to have been waked by all that noise, + melodious as it was. It is true that he had—apparently—drunk a + good deal and, as everyone knows, in Russia drink lays out those who can’t + stand it. When the Bohemians had sung three times Gounsovski made a sign + that they might go to charm other ears, and slipped into the hands of the + chief of the band a twenty-five rouble note. But Onoto wished to give her + mite, and a regular collection commenced. Each one threw roubles into the + plate held out by a little swarthy Bohemian girl with crow-black hair, + carelessly combed, falling over her forehead, her eyes and her face, in so + droll a fashion that one would have said the little thing was a + weeping-willow soaked in ink. The plate reached Prince Galitch, who + futilely searched his pockets. + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” said he, with a lordly air, “I have no money. But here is my + pocket-book; I will give it to you for a souvenir of me, Katharina.” + </p> + <p> + Thaddeus and Athanase exclaimed at the generosity of the prince, but + Annouchka said: + </p> + <p> + “The prince does as he should, for my friends can never sufficiently repay + the hospitality that that little thing gave me in her dirty hut when I was + in hiding, while your famous department was deciding what to do about me, + my dear Gounsovski.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh,” replied Gounsovski, “I let you know that all you had to do was to + take a fine apartment in the city.” + </p> + <p> + Annouchka spat on the ground like a teamster, and Gounsovski from yellow + turned green. + </p> + <p> + “But why did you hide yourself that way, Annouchka?” asked Onoto as she + caressed the beautiful tresses of the singer. + </p> + <p> + “You know I had been condemned to death, and then pardoned. I had been + able to leave Moscow, and I hadn’t any desire to be re-taken here and sent + to taste the joys of Siberia.” + </p> + <p> + “But why were you condemned to death?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, she doesn’t know anything!” exclaimed the others. + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord, I’m just back from London and Paris—how should I know + anything! But to have been condemned to death! That must have been + amusing.” + </p> + <p> + “Very amusing,” said Annouchka icily. “And if you have a brother whom you + love, Onoto, think how much more amusing it must be to have him shot + before you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my love, forgive me!” + </p> + <p> + “So you may know and not give any pain to your Annouchka in the future, I + will tell you, madame, what happened to our dear friend,” said Prince + Galitch. + </p> + <p> + “We would do better to drive away such terrible memories,” ventured + Gounsovski, lifting his eyelashes behind his glasses, but he bent his head + as Annouchka sent him a blazing glance. + </p> + <p> + “Speak, Galitch.” + </p> + <p> + The Prince did as she said. + </p> + <p> + “Annouchka had a brother, Vlassof, an engineer on the Kasan line, whom the + Strike Committee had ordered to take out a train as the only means of + escape for the leaders of the revolutionary troops when Trebassof’s + soldiers, aided by the Semenowsky regiment, had become masters of the + city. The last resistance took place at the station. It was necessary to + get started. All the ways were guarded by the military. There were + soldiers everywhere! Vlassof said to his comrades, ‘I will save you;’ and + his comrades saw him mount the engine with a woman. That woman was—well, + there she sits. Vlassof’s fireman had been killed the evening before, on a + barricade; it was Annouchka who took his place. They busied themselves and + the train started like a shot. On that curved line, discovered at once, + easy to attack, under a shower of bullets, Vlassof developed a speed of + ninety versts an hour. He ran the indicator up to the explosion point. The + lady over there continued to pile coal into the furnace. The danger came + to be less from the military and more from an explosion at any moment. In + the midst of the balls Vlassof kept his usual coolness. He sped not only + with the firebox open but with the forced draught. It was a miracle that + the engine was not smashed against the curve of the embankment. But they + got past. Not a man was hurt. Only a woman was wounded. She got a ball in + the chest.” + </p> + <p> + “There!” cried Annouchka. + </p> + <p> + With a magnificent gesture she flung open her white and heaving chest, and + put her finger on a scar that Gounsovski, whose fat began to melt in heavy + drops of sweat about his temples, dared not look at. + </p> + <p> + “Fifteen days later,” continued the prince, “Vlassof entered an inn at + Lubetszy. He didn’t know it was full of soldiers. His face never altered. + They searched him. They found a revolver and papers on him. They knew whom + they had to do with. He was a good prize. Vlassof was taken to Moscow and + condemned to be shot. His sister, wounded as she was, learned of his + arrest and joined him. ‘I do not wish,’ she said to him, ‘to leave you to + die alone.’ She also was condemned. Before the execution the soldiers + offered to bandage their eyes, but both refused, saying they preferred to + meet death face to face. The orders were to shoot all the other condemned + revolutionaries first, then Vlassof, then his sister. It was in vain that + Vlassof asked to die last. Their comrades in execution sank to their + knees, bleeding from their death wounds. Vlassof embraced his sister and + walked to the place of death. There he addressed the soldiers: ‘Now you + have to carry out your duty according to the oath you have taken. Fulfill + it honestly as I have fulfilled mine. Captain, give the order.’ The volley + sounded. Vlassof remained erect, his arms crossed on his breast, safe and + sound. Not a ball had touched him. The soldiers did not wish to fire at + him. He had to summon them again to fulfill their duty, and obey their + chief. Then they fired again, and he fell. He looked at his sister with + his eyes full of horrible suffering. Seeing that he lived, and wishing to + appear charitable, the captain, upon Annouchka’s prayers, approached and + cut short his sufferings by firing a revolver into his ear. Now it was + Annouchka’s turn. She knelt by the body of her brother, kissed his bloody + lips, rose and said, ‘I am ready.’ As the guns were raised, an officer + came running, bearing the pardon of the Tsar. She did not wish it, and she + whom they had not bound when she was to die had to be restrained when she + learned she was to live.” + </p> + <p> + Prince Galitch, amid the anguished silence of all there, started to add + some words of comment to his sinister recital, but Annouchka interrupted: + </p> + <p> + “The story is ended,” said she. “Not a word, Prince. If I asked you to + tell it in all its horror, if I wished you to bring back to us the + atrocious moment of my brother’s death, it is so that monsieur” (her + fingers pointed to Gounsovski) “shall know well, once for all, that if I + have submitted for some hours now to this promiscuous company that has + been imposed upon me, now that I have paid the debt by accepting this + abominable supper, I have nothing more to do with this purveyor of bagnios + and of hangman’s ropes who is here.” + </p> + <p> + “She is mad,” he muttered. “She is mad. What has come over her? What has + happened? Only to-day she was so, so amiable.” + </p> + <p> + And he stuttered, desolately, with an embarrassed laugh: + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the women, the women! Now what have I done to her?” + </p> + <p> + “What have you done to me, wretch? Where are Belachof, Bartowsky and + Strassof? And Pierre Slutch? All the comrades who swore with me to revenge + my brother? Where are they? On what gallows did you have them hung? What + mine have you buried them in? And still you follow your slavish task. And + my friends, my other friends, the poor comrades of my artist life, the + inoffensive young men who have not committed any other crime than to come + to see me too often when I was lively, and who believed they could talk + freely in my dressing-room—where are they? Why have they left me, + one by one? Why have they disappeared? It is you, wretch, who watched + them, who spied on them, making me, I haven’t any doubt, your horrible + accomplice, mixing me up in your beastly work, you dog! You knew what they + call me. You have known it for a long time, and you may well laugh over + it. But I, I never knew until this evening; I never learned until this + evening all I owe to you. ‘Stool pigeon! Stool pigeon!’ I! Horror! Ah, you + dog, you dog! Your mother, when you were brought into the world, your + mother...” Here she hurled at him the most offensive insult that a Russian + can offer a man of that race. + </p> + <p> + She trembled and sobbed with rage, spat in fury, and stood up ready to go, + wrapped in her mantle like a great red flag. She was the statue of hate + and vengeance. She was horrible and terrible. She was beautiful. At the + final supreme insult, Gounsovski started and rose to his feet as though he + had received an actual blow in the face. He did not look at Annouchka, but + fixed his eyes on Prince Galitch. His finger pointed him out: + </p> + <p> + “There is the man,” he hissed, “who has told you all these fine things.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is I,” said the Prince, tranquilly. + </p> + <p> + “Caracho!” barked Gounsovski, instantaneously regaining his coolness. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes, but you’ll not touch him,” clamored the spirited girl of the + Black Land; “you are not strong enough for that.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that monsieur has many friends at court,” agreed the chief of the + Secret Service with an ominous calm. “I don’t wish ill to monsieur. You + speak, madame, of the way some of your friends have had to be sacrificed. + I hope that some day you will be better informed, and that you will + understand I saved all of them I could.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us go,” muttered Annouchka. “I shall spit in his face.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, all I could,” replied the other, with his habitual gesture of + hanging on to his glasses. “And I shall continue to do so. I promise you + not to say anything more disagreeable to the prince than as regards his + little friend the Bohemian Katharina, whom he has treated so generously + just now, doubtless because Boris Mourazoff pays her too little for the + errands she runs each morning to the villa of Krestowsky Ostrow.” + </p> + <p> + At these words the Prince and Annouchka both changed countenance. Their + anger rose. Annouchka turned her head as though to arrange the folds of + her cloak. Galitch contented himself with shrugging his shoulders + impatiently and murmuring: + </p> + <p> + “Still some other abomination that you are concocting, monsieur, and that + we don’t know how to reply to.” + </p> + <p> + After which he bowed to the supper-party, took Annouchka’s arm and had her + move before him. Gounsovski bowed, almost bent in two. When he rose he saw + before him the three astounded and horrified figures of Thaddeus + Tchitchnikoff, Ivan Petrovitch and Athanase Georgevitch. + </p> + <p> + “Messieurs,” he said to them, in a colorless voice which seemed not to + belong to him, “the time has come for us to part. I need not say that we + have supped as friends and that, if you wish it to be so, we can forget + everything that has been said here.” + </p> + <p> + The three others, frightened, at once protested their discretion. He + added, roughly this time, “Service of the Tsar,” and the three stammered, + “God save the Tsar!” After which he saw them to the door. When the door + had closed after them, he said, “My little Annouchka, you mustn’t reckon + without me.” He hurried toward the sofa, where Rouletabille was lying + forgotten, and gave him a tap on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Come, get up. Don’t act as though you were asleep. Not an instant to + lose. They are going to carry through the Trebassof affair this evening.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille was already on his legs. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, monsieur,” said he, “I didn’t want you to tell me that. Thanks all + the same, and good evening.” + </p> + <p> + He went out. + </p> + <p> + Gounsovski rang. A servant appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Tell them they may now open all the rooms on this corridor; I’ll not hold + them any longer.” Thus had Gounsovski kept himself protected. + </p> + <p> + Left alone, the head of the Secret Service wiped his brow and drank a + great glass of iced water which he emptied at a draught. Then he said: + </p> + <p> + “Koupriane will have his work cut out for him this evening; I wish him + good luck. As to them, whatever happens, I wash my hands of them.” + </p> + <p> + And he rubbed his hands. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. A DRAMA IN THE NIGHT + </h2> + <p> + At the door of the Krestowsky Rouletabille, who was in a hurry for a + conveyance, jumped into an open carriage where la belle Onoto was already + seated. The dancer caught him on her knees. + </p> + <p> + “To Eliaguine, fast as you can,” cried the reporter for all explanation. + </p> + <p> + “Scan! Scan! (Quickly, quickly)” repeated Onoto. + </p> + <p> + She was accompanied by a vague sort of person to whom neither of them paid + the least attention. + </p> + <p> + “What a supper! You waked up at last, did you?” quizzed the actress. But + Rouletabille, standing up behind the enormous coachman, urged the horses + and directed the route of the carriage. They bolted along through the + night at a dizzy pace. At the corner of a bridge he ordered the horses + stopped, thanked his companions and disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “What a country! What a country! Caramba!” said the Spanish artist. + </p> + <p> + The carriage waited a few minutes, then turned back toward the city. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille got down the embankment and slowly, taking infinite + precautions not to reveal his presence by making the least noise, made his + way to where the river is widest. Seen through the blackness of the night + the blacker mass of the Trebassof villa loomed like an enormous blot, he + stopped. Then he glided like a snake through the reeds, the grass, the + ferns. He was at the back of the villa, near the river, not far from the + little path where he had discovered the passage of the assassin, thanks to + the broken cobwebs. At that moment the moon rose and the birch-trees, + which just before had been like great black staffs, now became white + tapers which seemed to brighten that sinister solitude. + </p> + <p> + The reporter wished to profit at once by the sudden luminance to learn if + his movements had been noticed and if the approaches to the villa on that + side were guarded. He picked up a small pebble and threw it some distance + from him along the path. At the unexpected noise three or four shadowy + heads were outlined suddenly in the white light of the moon, but + disappeared at once, lost again in the dark tufts of grass. + </p> + <p> + He had gained his information. + </p> + <p> + The reporter’s acute ear caught a gliding in his direction, a slight swish + of twigs; then all at once a shadow grew by his side and he felt the cold + of a revolver barrel on his temple. He said “Koupriane,” and at once a + hand seized his and pressed it. + </p> + <p> + The night had become black again. He murmured: “How is it you are here in + person?” + </p> + <p> + The Prefect of Police whispered in his ear: + </p> + <p> + “I have been informed that something will happen to-night. Natacha went to + Krestowsky and exchanged some words with Annouchka there. Prince Galitch + is involved, and it is an affair of State.” + </p> + <p> + “Natacha has returned?” inquired Rouletabille. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a long time ago. She ought to be in bed. In any case she is + pretending to be abed. The light from her chamber, in the window over the + garden, has been put out.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you warned Matrena Petrovna?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have let her know that she must keep on the sharp look-out + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a mistake. I shouldn’t have told her anything. She will take such + extra precautions that the others will be instantly warned.” + </p> + <p> + “I have told her she should not go to the ground-floor at all this night, + and that she must not leave the general’s chamber.” + </p> + <p> + “That is perfect, if she will obey you.” + </p> + <p> + “You see I have profited by all your information. I have followed your + instructions. The road from the Krestowsky is under surveillance.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps too much. How are you planning?” + </p> + <p> + “We will let them enter. I don’t know whom I have to deal with. I want to + strike a sure blow. I shall take him in the act. No more doubt after this, + you trust me.” + </p> + <p> + “Adieu.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “To bed. I have paid my debt to my host. I have the right to some repose + now. Good luck!” + </p> + <p> + But Koupriane had seized his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Listen.” + </p> + <p> + With a little attention they detected a light stroke on the water. If a + boat was moving at this time for this bank of the Neva and wished to + remain hidden, the right moment had certainly been chosen. A great black + cloud covered the moon; the wind was light. The boat would have time to + get from one bank to the other without being discovered. Rouletabille + waited no longer. On all-fours he ran like a beast, rapidly and silently, + and rose behind the wall of the villa, where he made a turn, reached the + gate, aroused the dvornicks and demanded Ermolai, who opened the gate for + him. + </p> + <p> + “The Barinia?” he said. + </p> + <p> + Ermolai pointed his finger to the bedroom floor. + </p> + <p> + “Caracho!” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille was already across the garden and had hoisted himself by his + fingers to the window of Natacha’s chamber, where he listened. He plainly + heard Natacha walking about in the dark chamber. He fell back lightly onto + his feet, mounted the veranda steps and opened the door, then closed it so + lightly that Ermolai, who watched him from outside not two feet away, did + not hear the slightest grinding of the hinges. Inside the villa + Rouletabille advanced on tiptoe. He found the door of the drawing-room + open. The door of the sitting-room had not been closed, or else had been + reopened. He turned in his tracks, felt in the dark for a chair and sat + down, with his hand on his revolver in his pocket, waiting for the events + that would not delay long now. Above he heard distinctly from time to time + the movements of Matrena Petrovna. And this would evidently give a sense + of security to those who needed to have the ground-floor free this night. + Rouletabille imagined that the doors of the rooms on the ground-floor had + been left open so that it would be easier for those who would be below to + hear what was happening upstairs. And perhaps he was not wrong. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly there was a vertical bar of pale light from the sitting-room that + overlooked the Neva. He deduced two things: first, that the window was + already slightly open, then that the moon was out from the clouds again. + The bar of light died almost instantly, but Rouletabille’s eyes, now used + to the obscurity, still distinguished the open line of the window. There + the shade was less deep. Suddenly he felt the blood pound at his temples, + for the line of the open window grew larger, increased, and the shadow of + a man gradually rose on the balcony. Rouletabille drew his revolver. + </p> + <p> + The man stood up immediately behind one of the shutters and struck a light + blow on the glass. Placed as he was now he could be seen no more. His + shadow mixed with the shadow of the shutter. At the noise on the glass + Natacha’s door had opened cautiously, and she entered the sitting-room. On + tiptoe she went quickly to the window and opened it. The man entered. The + little light that by now was commencing to dawn was enough to show + Rouletabille that Natacha still wore the toilette in which he had seen her + that same evening at Krestowsky. As for the man, he tried in vain to + identify him; he was only a dark mass wrapped in a mantle. He leaned over + and kissed Natacha’s hand. She said only one word: “Scan!” (Quickly). + </p> + <p> + But she had no more than said it before, under a vigorous attack, the + shutters and the two halves of the window were thrown wide, and silent + shadows jumped rapidly onto the balcony and sprang into the villa. Natacha + uttered a shrill cry in which Rouletabille believed still he heard more of + despair than terror, and the shadows threw themselves on the man; but he, + at the first alarm, had thrown himself upon the carpet and had slipped + from them between their legs. He regained the balcony and jumped from it + as the others turned toward him. At least, it was so that Rouletabille + believed he saw the mysterious struggle go in the half-light, amid most + impressive silence, after that frightened cry of Natacha’s. The whole + affair had lasted only a few seconds, and the man was still hanging over + the balcony, when from the bottom of the hall a new person sprang. It was + Matrena Petrovna. + </p> + <p> + Warned by Koupriane that something would happen that night, and foreseeing + that it would happen on the ground-floor where she was forbidden to be, + she had found nothing better to do than to make her faithful maid go + secretly to the bedroom floor, with orders to walk about there all night, + to make all think she herself was near the general, while she remained + below, hidden in the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + Matrena Petrovna now threw herself out onto the balcony, crying in + Russian, “Shoot! Shoot!” In just that moment the man was hesitating + whether to risk the jump and perhaps break his neck, or descend less + rapidly by the gutter-pipe. A policeman fired and missed him, and the man, + after firing back and wounding the policeman, disappeared. It was still + too far from dawn for them to see clearly what happened below, where the + barking of Brownings alone was heard. And there could be nothing more + sinister than the revolver-shots unaccompanied by cries in the mists of + the morning. The man, before he disappeared, had had only time by a quick + kick to throw down one of the two ladders which had been used by the + police in climbing; down the other one all the police in a bunch, even to + the wounded one, went sliding, falling, rising, running after the shadow + which fled still, discharging the Browning steadily; other shadows rose + from the river-bank, hovering in the mist. Suddenly Koupriane’s voice was + heard shouting orders, calling upon his agents to take the quarry alive or + dead. From the balcony Matrena Petrovna cried out also, like a savage, and + Rouletabille tried in vain to keep her quiet. She was delirious at the + thought “The Other” might escape yet. She fired a revolver, she also, into + the group, not knowing whom she might wound. Rouletabille grabbed her arm + and as she turned on him angrily she observed Natacha, who, leaning until + she almost fell over the balcony, her lips trembling with delirious + utterance, followed as well as she could the progress of the struggle, + trying to understand what happened below, under the trees, near the Neva, + where the tumult by now extended. Matrena Petrovna pulled her back by the + arms. Then she took her by the neck and threw her into the drawing-room in + a heap. When she had almost strangled her step-daughter, Matrena Petrovna + saw that the general was there. He appeared in the pale glimmerings of + dawn like a specter. By what miracle had Feodor Feodorovitch been able to + descend the stairs and reach there? How had it been brought about? She saw + him tremble with anger or with wretchedness under the folds of the + soldier’s cape that floated about him. He demanded in a hoarse voice, + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + Matrena Petrovna threw herself at his feet, made the orthodox sign of the + Cross, as if she wished to summon God to witness, and then, pointing to + Natacha, she denounced his daughter to her husband as she would have + pointed her out to a judge. + </p> + <p> + “The one, Feodor Feodorovitch, who has wished more than once to + assassinate you, and who this night has opened the datcha to your assassin + is your daughter.” + </p> + <p> + The general held himself up by his two hands against the wall, and, + looking at Matrena and Natacha, who now were both upon the floor before + him like suppliants, he said to Matrena: + </p> + <p> + “It is you who assassinate me.” + </p> + <p> + “Me! By the living God!” babbled Matrena Petrovna desperately. “If I had + been able to keep this from you, Jesus would have been good! But I say no + more to crucify you. Feodor Feodorovitch, question your daughter, and if + what I have said is not true, kill me, kill me as a lying, evil beast. I + will say thank you, thank you, and I will die happier than if what I have + said was true. Ah, I long to be dead! Kill me!” + </p> + <p> + Feodor Feodorovitch pushed her back with his stick as one would push a + worm in his path. Without saying anything further, she rose from her knees + and looked with her haggard eyes, with her crazed face, at Rouletabille, + who grasped her arm. If she had had her hands still free she would not + have hesitated a second in wreaking justice upon herself under this bitter + fate of alienating Feodor. And it seemed frightful to Rouletabille that he + should be present at one of those horrible family dramas the issue of + which in the wild times of Peter the Great would have sent the general to + the hangman either as a father or as a husband. + </p> + <p> + The general did not deign even to consider for any length of time + Matrena’s delirium. He said to his daughter, who shook with sobs on the + floor, “Rise, Natacha Feodorovna.” And Feodor’s daughter understood that + her father never would believe in her guilt. She drew herself up towards + him and kissed his hands like a happy slave. + </p> + <p> + At this moment repeated blows shook the veranda door. Matrena, the + watch-dog, anxious to die after Feodor’s reproach, but still at her post, + ran toward what she believed to be a new danger. But she recognized + Koupriane’s voice, which called on her to open. She let him in herself. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” she implored. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he is dead.” + </p> + <p> + A cry answered him. Natacha had heard. + </p> + <p> + “But who—who—who?” questioned Matrena breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + Koupriane went over to Feodor and grasped his hands. + </p> + <p> + “General,” he said, “there was a man who had sworn your ruin and who was + made an instrument by your enemies. We have just killed that man.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I know him?” demanded Feodor. + </p> + <p> + “He is one of your friends, you have treated him like a son.” + </p> + <p> + “His name?” + </p> + <p> + “Ask your daughter, General.” + </p> + <p> + Feodor turned toward Natacha, who burned Koupriane with her gaze, trying + to learn what this news was he brought—the truth or a ruse. + </p> + <p> + “You know the man who wished to kill me, Natacha?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied to her father, in accents of perfect fury. “No, I don’t + know any such man.” + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” said Koupriane, in a firm, terribly hostile voice, “you + have yourself, with your own hands, opened that window to-night; and you + have opened it to him many other times besides. While everyone else here + does his duty and watches that no person shall be able to enter at night + the house where sleeps General Trebassof, governor of Moscow, condemned to + death by the Central Revolutionary Committee now reunited at Presnia, this + is what you do; it is you who introduce the enemy into this place.” + </p> + <p> + “Answer, Natacha; tell me, yes or no, whether you have let anybody into + this house by night.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, it is true.” + </p> + <p> + Feodor roared like a lion: + </p> + <p> + “His name!” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur will tell you himself,” said Natacha, in a voice thick with + terror, and she pointed to Koupriane. “Why does he not tell you himself + the name of that person? He must know it, if the man is dead.” + </p> + <p> + “And if the man is not dead,” replied Feodor, who visibly held onto + himself, “if that man, whom you helped to enter my house this night, has + succeeded in escaping, as you seem to hope, will you tell us his name?” + </p> + <p> + “I could not tell it, Father.” + </p> + <p> + “And if I prayed you to do so?” + </p> + <p> + Natacha desperately shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “And if I order you?” + </p> + <p> + “You can kill me, Father, but I will not pronounce that name.” + </p> + <p> + “Wretch!” + </p> + <p> + He raised his stick toward her. Thus Ivan the Terrible had killed his son + with a blow of his boar-spear. + </p> + <p> + But Natacha, instead of bowing her head beneath the blow that menaced her, + turned toward Koupriane and threw at him in accents of triumph: + </p> + <p> + “He is not dead. If you had succeeded in taking him, dead or alive, you + would already have his name.” + </p> + <p> + Koupriane took two steps toward her, put his hand on her shoulder and + said: + </p> + <p> + “Michael Nikolaievitch.” + </p> + <p> + “Michael Korsakoff!” cried the general. + </p> + <p> + Matrena Petrovna, as if revolted by that suggestion, stood upright to + repeat: + </p> + <p> + “Michael Korsakoff!” + </p> + <p> + The general could not believe his ears, and was about to protest when he + noticed that his daughter had turned away and was trying to flee to her + room. He stopped her with a terrible gesture. + </p> + <p> + “Natacha, you are going to tell us what Michael Korsakoff came here to do + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Feodor Feodorovitch, he came to poison you.” + </p> + <p> + It was Matrena who spoke now and whom nothing could have kept silent, for + she saw in Natacha’s attempt at flight the most sinister confession. Like + a vengeful fury she told over with cries and terrible gestures what she + had experienced, as if once more stretched before her the hand armed with + the poison, the mysterious hand above the pillow of her poor invalid, her + dear, rigorous tyrant; she told them about the preceding night and all her + terrors, and from her lips, by her voluble staccato utterance that ominous + recital had grotesque emphasis. Finally she told all that she had done, + she and the little Frenchman, in order not to betray their suspicions to + The Other, in order to take finally in their own trap all those who for so + many days and nights schemed for the death of Feodor Feodorovitch. As she + ended she pointed out Rouletabille to Feodor and cried, “There is the one + who has saved you.” + </p> + <p> + Natacha, as she listened to this tragic recital, restrained herself + several times in order not to interrupt, and Rouletabille, who was + watching her closely, saw that she had to use almost superhuman efforts in + order to achieve that. All the horror of what seemed to be to her as well + as to Feodor a revelation of Michael’s crime did not subdue her, but + seemed, on the contrary, to restore to her in full force all the life that + a few seconds earlier had fled from her. Matrena had hardly finished her + cry, “There is the one who has saved you,” before Natacha cried in her + turn, facing the reporter with a look full of the most frightful hate, + “There is the one who has been the death of an innocent man!” She turned + to her father. “Ah, papa, let me, let me say that Michael Nikolaievitch, + who came here this evening, I admit, and whom, it is true, I let into the + house, that Michael Nikolaievitch did not come here yesterday, and that + the man who has tried to poison you is certainly someone else.” + </p> + <p> + At these words Rouletabille turned pale, but he did not let himself lose + self-control. He replied simply: + </p> + <p> + “No, mademoiselle, it was the same man.” + </p> + <p> + And Koupriane felt compelled to add: + </p> + <p> + “Anyway, we have found the proof of Michael Nikolaievitch’s relations with + the revolutionaries.” + </p> + <p> + “Where have you found that?” questioned the young girl, turning toward the + Chief of Police a face ravished with anguish. + </p> + <p> + “At Krestowsky, mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + She looked a long time at him as though she would penetrate to the bottom + of his thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “What proofs?” she implored. + </p> + <p> + “A correspondence which we have placed under seal.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it addressed to him? What kind of correspondence?” + </p> + <p> + “If it interests you, we will open it before you.” + </p> + <p> + “My God! My God!” she gasped. “Where have you found this correspondence? + Where? Tell me where!” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you. At the villa, in his chamber. We forced the lock of his + bureau.” + </p> + <p> + She seemed to breathe again, but her father took her brutally by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Natacha, you are going to tell us what that man was doing here + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “In her chamber!” cried Matrena Petrovna. + </p> + <p> + Natacha turned toward Matrena: + </p> + <p> + “What do you believe, then? Tell me now.” + </p> + <p> + “And I, what ought I to believe?” muttered Feodor. “You have not told me + yet. You did not know that man had relations with my enemies. You are + innocent of that, perhaps. I wish to think so. I wish it, in the name of + Heaven I wish it. But why did you receive him? Why? Why did you bring him + in here, as a robber or as a...” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa, you know that I love Boris, that I love him with all my heart, + and that I would never belong to anyone but him.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, then, then.—speak!” + </p> + <p> + The young girl had reached the crisis. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Father, Father, do not question me! You, you above all, do not + question me now. I can say nothing! There is nothing I can tell you. + Excepting that I am sure—sure, you understand—that Michael + Nikolaievitch did not come here last night.” + </p> + <p> + “He did come,” insisted Rouletabille in a slightly troubled voice. + </p> + <p> + “He came here with poison. He came here to poison your father, Natacha,” + moaned Matrena Petrovna, who twined her hands in gestures of sincere and + naive tragedy. + </p> + <p> + “And I,” replied the daughter of Feodor ardently, with an accent of + conviction which made everyone there vibrate, and particularly + Rouletabille, “and I, I tell you it was not he, that it was not he, that + it could not possibly be he. I swear to you it was another, another.” + </p> + <p> + “But then, this other, did you let him in as well?” said Koupriane. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes, yes. It was I. It was I. It was I who left the window and blinds + open. Yes, it is I who did that. But I did not wait for the other, the + other who came to assassinate. As to Michael Nikolaievitch, I swear to + you, my father, by all that is most sacred in heaven and on earth, that he + could not have committed the crime that you say. And now—kill me, + for there is nothing more I can say.” + </p> + <p> + “The poison,” replied Koupriane coldly, “the poison that he poured into + the general’s potion was that arsenate of soda which was on the grapes the + Marshal of the Court brought here. Those grapes were left by the Marshal, + who warned Michael Nikolaievitch and Boris Alexandrovitch to wash them. + The grapes disappeared. If Michael is innocent, do you accuse Boris?” + </p> + <p> + Natacha, who seemed to have suddenly lost all power for defending herself, + moaned, begged, railed, seemed dying. + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Don’t accuse Boris. He has nothing to do with it. Don’t accuse + Michael. Don’t accuse anyone so long as you don’t know. But these two are + innocent. Believe me. Believe me. Ah, how shall I say it, how shall I + persuade you! I am not able to say anything to you. And you have killed + Michael. Ah, what have you done, what have you done!” + </p> + <p> + “We have suppressed a man,” said the icy voice of Koupriane, “who was + merely the agent for the base deeds of Nihilism.” + </p> + <p> + She succeeded in recovering a new energy that in her depths of despair + they would have supposed impossible. She shook her fists at Koupriane: + </p> + <p> + “It is not true, it is not true. These are slanders, infamies! The + inventions of the police! Papers devised to incriminate him. There is + nothing at all of what you said you found at his house. It is not + possible. It is not true.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are those papers?” demanded the curt voice of Feodor. “Bring them + here at once, Koupriane; I wish to see them.” + </p> + <p> + Koupriane was slightly troubled, and this did not escape Natacha, who + cried: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, let him give us them, let him bring them if he has them. But he + hasn’t,” she clamored with a savage joy. “He has nothing. You can see, + papa, that he has nothing. He would already have brought them out. He has + nothing. I tell you he has nothing. Ah, he has nothing! He has nothing!” + </p> + <p> + And she threw herself on the floor, weeping, sobbing, “He has nothing, he + has nothing!” She seemed to weep for joy. + </p> + <p> + “Is that true?” demanded Feodor Feodorovitch, with his most somber manner. + “Is it true, Koupriane, that you have nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “It is true, General, that we have found nothing. Everything had already + been carried away.” + </p> + <p> + But Natacha uttered a veritable torrent of glee: + </p> + <p> + “He has found nothing! Yet he accuses him of being allied with the + revolutionaries. Why? Why? Because I let him in? But I, am I a + revolutionary? Tell me. Have I sworn to kill papa? I? I? Ah, he doesn’t + know what to say. You see for yourself, papa, he is silent. He has lied. + He has lied.” + </p> + <p> + “Why have you made this false statement, Koupriane?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we have suspected Michael for some time, and truly, after what has + just happened, we cannot have any doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but you declared you had papers, and you have not. That is + abominable procedure, Koupriane,” replied Feodor sternly. “I have heard + you condemn such expedients many times.” + </p> + <p> + “General! We are sure, you hear, we are absolutely sure that the man who + tried to poison you yesterday and the man to-day who is dead are one and + the same.” + </p> + <p> + “And what reason have you for being so sure? It is necessary to tell it,” + insisted the general, who trembled with distress and impatience. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, let him tell now.” + </p> + <p> + “Ask monsieur,” said Koupriane. + </p> + <p> + They all turned to Rouletabille. + </p> + <p> + The reporter replied, affecting a coolness that perhaps he did not + entirely feel: + </p> + <p> + “I am able to state to you, as I already have before Monsieur the Prefect + of Police, that one, and only one, person has left the traces of his + various climbings on the wall and on the balcony.” + </p> + <p> + “Idiot!” interrupted Natacha, with a passionate disdain for the young man. + “And that satisfies you?” + </p> + <p> + The general roughly seized the reporter’s wrist: + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, monsieur. A man came here this night. That concerns only + me. No one has any right to be astonished excepting myself. I make it my + own affair, an affair between my daughter and me. But you, you have just + told us that you are sure that man is an assassin. Then, you see, that + calls for something else. Proofs are necessary, and I want the proofs at + once. You speak of traces; very well, we will go and examine those traces + together. And I wish for your sake, monsieur, that I shall be as convinced + by them as you are.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille quietly disengaged his wrist and replied with perfect calm: + </p> + <p> + “Now, monsieur, I am no longer able to prove anything to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because the ladders of the police agents have wiped out all my proofs, + monsieur. + </p> + <p> + “So now there remains for us only your word, only your belief in yourself. + And if you are mistaken?” + </p> + <p> + “He would never admit it, papa,” cried Natacha. “Ah, it is he who deserves + the fate Michael Nikolaievitch has met just now. Isn’t it so? Don’t you + know it? And that will be your eternal remorse! Isn’t there something that + always keeps you from admitting that you are mistaken? You have had an + innocent man killed. Now, you know well enough, you know well that I would + not have admitted Michael Nikolaievitch here if I had believed he was + capable of wishing to poison my father.” + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” replied Rouletabille, not lowering his eyes under + Natacha’s thunderous regard, “I am sure of that.” + </p> + <p> + He said it in such a tone that Natacha continued to look at him with + incomprehensible anguish in her eyes. Ah, the baffling of those two + regards, the mute scene between those two young people, one of whom wished + to make himself understood and the other afraid beyond all other things of + being thoroughly understood. Natacha murmured: + </p> + <p> + “How he looks at me! See, he is the demon; yes, yes, the little domovoi, + the little domovoi. But look out, poor wretch; you don’t know what you + have done.” + </p> + <p> + She turned brusquely toward Koupriane: + </p> + <p> + “Where is the body of Michael Nikolaievitch?” said she. “I wish to see it. + I must see it.” + </p> + <p> + Feodor Feodorovitch had fallen, as though asleep, upon a chair. Matrena + Petrovna dared not approach him. The giant appeared hurt to the death, + disheartened forever. What neither bombs, nor bullets, nor poison had been + able to do, the single idea of his daughter’s co-operation in the work of + horror plotted about him—or rather the impossibility he faced of + understanding Natacha’s attitude, her mysterious conduct, the chaos of her + explanations, her insensate cries, her protestations of innocence, her + accusations, her menaces, her prayers and all her disorder, the avowed + fact of her share in that tragic nocturnal adventure where Michael + Nikolaievitch found his death, had knocked over Feodor Feodorovitch like a + straw. One instant he sought refuge in some vague hope that Koupriane was + less assured than he pretended of the orderly’s guilt. But that, after + all, was only a detail of no importance in his eyes. What alone mattered + was the significance of Natacha’s act, and the unhappy girl seemed not to + be concerned over what he would think of it. She was there to fight + against Koupriane, Rouletabille and Matrena Petrovna, defending her + Michael Nikolaievitch, while he, the father, after having failed to + overawe her just now, was there in a corner suffering agonizedly. + </p> + <p> + Koupriane walked over to him and said: + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me carefully, Feodor Feodorovitch. He who speaks to you is Head + of the Police by the will of the Tsar, and your friend by the grace of + God. If you do not demand before us, who are acquainted with all that has + happened and who know how to keep any necessary secret, if you do not + demand of your daughter the reason for her conduct with Michael + Nikolaievitch, and if she does not tell you in all sincerity, there is + nothing more for me to do here. My men have already been ordered away from + this house as unworthy to guard the most loyal subject of His Majesty; I + have not protested, but now I in my turn ask you to prove to me that the + most dangerous enemy you have had in your house is not your daughter.” + </p> + <p> + These words, which summed up the horrible situation, came as a relief for + Feodor. Yes, they must know. Koupriane was right. She must speak. He + ordered his daughter to tell everything, everything. + </p> + <p> + Natacha fixed Koupriane again with her look of hatred to the death, turned + from him and repeated in a firm voice: + </p> + <p> + “I have nothing to say.” + </p> + <p> + “There is the accomplice of your assassins,” growled Koupriane then, his + arm extended. + </p> + <p> + Natacha uttered a cry like a wounded beast and fell at her father’s feet. + She gathered them within her supplicating arms. She pressed them to her + breasts. She sobbed from the bottom of her heart. And he, not + comprehending, let her lie there, distant, hostile, somber. Then she + moaned, distractedly, and wept bitterly, and the dramatic atmosphere in + which she thus suddenly enveloped Feodor made it all sound like those + cries of an earlier time when the all-powerful, punishing father appeared + in the women’s apartments to punish the culpable ones. + </p> + <p> + “My father! Dear Father! Look at me! Look at me! Have pity on me, and do + not require me to speak when I must be silent forever. And believe me! Do + not believe these men! Do not believe Matrena Petrovna. And am I not your + daughter? Your very own daughter! Your Natacha Feodorovna! I cannot make + things dear to you. No, no, by the Holy Virgin Mother of Jesus I cannot + explain. By the holy ikons, it is because I must not. By my mother, whom I + have not known and whose place you have taken, oh, my father, ask me + nothing more! Ask me nothing more! But take me in your arms as you did + when I was little; embrace me, dear father; love me. I never have had such + need to be loved. Love me! I am miserable. Unfortunate me, who cannot even + kill myself before your eyes to prove my innocence and my love. Papa, + Papa! What will your arms be for in the days left you to live, if you no + longer wish to press me to your heart? Papa! Papa!” + </p> + <p> + She laid her head on Feodor’s knees. Her hair had come down and hung about + her in a magnificent disorderly mass of black. + </p> + <p> + “Look in my eyes! Look in my eyes! See how they love you, Batouchka! + Batouchka! My dear Batouchka!” + </p> + <p> + Then Feodor wept. His great tears fell upon Natacha’s tears. He raised her + head and demanded simply in a broken voice: + </p> + <p> + “You can tell me nothing now? But when will you tell me?” + </p> + <p> + Natacha lifted her eyes to his, then her look went past him toward heaven, + and from her lips came just one word, in a sob: + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + Matrena Petrovna, Koupriane and the reporter shuddered before the high and + terrible thing that happened then. Feodor had taken his daughter’s face + between his hands. He looked long at those eyes raised toward heaven, the + mouth which had just uttered the word “Never,” then, slowly, his rude lips + went to the tortured, quivering lips of the girl. He held her close. She + raised her head wildly, triumphantly, and cried, with arm extended toward + Matrena Petrovna: + </p> + <p> + “He believes me! He believes me! And you would have believed me also if + you had been my real mother.” + </p> + <p> + Her head fell back and she dropped unconscious to the floor. Feodor fell + to his knees, tending her, deploring her, motioning the others out of the + room. + </p> + <p> + “Go away! All of you, go! All! You, too, Matrena Petrovna. Go away!” + </p> + <p> + They disappeared, terrified by his savage gesture. + </p> + <p> + In the little datcha across the river at Krestowsky there was a body. + Secret Service agents guarded it while they waited for their chief. + Michael Nikolaievitch had come there to die, and the police had reached + him just at his last breath. They were behind him as, with the + death-rattle in his throat, he pulled himself into his chamber and fell in + a heap. Katharina the Bohemian was there. She bent her quick-witted, + puzzled head over his death agony. The police swarmed everywhere, + ransacking, forcing locks, pulling drawers from the bureau and tables, + emptying the cupboards. Their search took in everything, even to ripping + the mattresses, and not respecting the rooms of Boris Mourazoff, who was + away this night. They searched thoroughly, but they found absolutely + nothing they were looking for in Michael’s rooms. But they accumulated a + multitude of publications that belonged to Boris: Western books, essays on + political economy, a history of the French Revolution, and verses that a + man ought to hang for. They put them all under seal. During the search + Michael died in Katharina’s arms. She had held him close, after opening + his clothes over the chest, doubtless to make his last breaths easier. The + unfortunate officer had received a bullet at the back of the head just + after he had plunged into the Neva from the rear of the Trebassof datcha + and started to swim across. It was a miracle that he had managed to keep + going. Doubtless he hoped to die in peace if only he could reach his own + house. He apparently had believed he could manage that once he had broken + through his human bloodhounds. He did not know he was recognized and his + place of retreat therefore known. + </p> + <p> + Now the police had gone from cellar to garret. Koupriane came from the + Trebassof villa and joined them, Rouletabille followed him. The reporter + could not stand the sight of that body, that still had a lingering warmth, + of the great open eyes that seemed to stare at him, reproaching him for + this violent death. He turned away in distaste, and perhaps a little in + fright. Koupriane caught the movement. + </p> + <p> + “Regrets?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Rouletabille. “A death always must be regretted. None the + less, he was a criminal. But I’m sincerely sorry he died before he had + been driven to confess, even though we are sure of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Being in the pay of the Nihilists, you mean? That is still your opinion?” + asked Koupriane. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “You know that nothing has been found here in his rooms. The only + compromising papers that have been found belong to Boris Mourazoff.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you say that?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—nothing.” + </p> + <p> + Koupriane questioned his men further. They replied categorically. No, + nothing had been found that directly incriminated anybody; and suddenly + Rouletabille noted that the conversation of the police and their chief had + grown more animated. Koupriane had become angry and was violently + reproaching them. They excused themselves with vivid gesture and rapid + speech. + </p> + <p> + Koupriane started away. Rouletabille followed him. What had happened? + </p> + <p> + As he came up behind Koupriane, he asked the question. In a few curt + words, still hurrying on, Koupriane told the reporter he had just learned + that the police had left the little Bohemian Katharina alone for a moment + with the expiring officer. Katharina acted as housekeeper for Michael and + Boris. She knew the secrets of them both. The first thing any novice + should have known was to keep a constant eye upon her, and now no one knew + where she was. She must be searched for and found at once, for she had + opened Michael’s shirt, and therein probably lay the reason that no papers + were found on the corpse when the police searched it. The absence of + papers, of a portfolio, was not natural. + </p> + <p> + The chase commenced in the rosy dawn of the isles. Already blood-like + tints were on the horizon. Some of the police cried that they had the + trail. They ran under the trees, because it was almost certain she had + taken the narrow path leading to the bridge that joins Krestowsky to + Kameny-Ostrow. Some indications discovered by the police who swarmed to + right and left of the path confirmed this hypothesis. And no carriage in + sight! They all ran on, Koupriane among the first. Rouletabille kept at + his heels, but he did not pass him. Suddenly there were cries and calls + among the police. One pointed out something below gliding upon the sloping + descent. It was little Katharina. She flew like the wind, but in a + distracted course. She had reached Kameny-Ostrow on the west bank. “Oh, + for a carriage, a horse!” clamored Koupriane, who had left his turn-out at + Eliaguine. “The proof is there. It is the final proof of everything that + is escaping us!” + </p> + <p> + Dawn was enough advanced now to show the ground clearly. Katharina was + easily discernible as she reached the Eliaguine bridge. There she was in + Eliaguine-Ostrow. What was she doing there? Was she going to the Trebassof + villa? What would she have to say to them? No, she swerved to the right. + The police raced behind her. She was still far ahead, and seemed untiring. + Then she disappeared among the trees, in the thicket, keeping still to the + right. Koupriane gave a cry of joy. Going that way she must be taken. He + gave some breathless orders for the island to be barred. She could not + escape now! She could not escape! But where was she going? Koupriane knew + that island better than anybody. He took a short cut to reach the other + side, toward which Katharina seemed to be heading, and all at once he + nearly fell over the girl, who gave a squawk of surprise and rushed away, + seeming all arms and legs. + </p> + <p> + “Stop, or I fire!” cried Koupriane, and he drew his revolver. But a hand + grabbed it from him. + </p> + <p> + “Not that!” said Rouletabille, as he threw the revolver far from them. + Koupriane swore at him and resumed the chase. His fury multiplied his + strength, his agility; he almost reached Katharina, who was almost out of + breath, but Rouletabille threw himself into the Chief’s arms and they + rolled together upon the grass. When Koupriane rose, it was to see + Katharina mounting in mad haste the stairs that led to the Barque, the + floating restaurant of the Strielka. Cursing Rouletabille, but believing + his prey easily captured now, the Chief in his turn hurried to the Barque, + into which Katharina had disappeared. He reached the bottom of the stairs. + On the top step, about to descend from the festive place, the form of + Prince Galitch appeared. Koupriane received the sight like a blow stopping + him short in his ascent. Galitch had an exultant air which Koupriane did + not mistake. Evidently he had arrived too late. He felt the certainty of + it in profound discouragement. And this appearance of the prince on the + Barque explained convincingly enough the reason for Katharina’s flight + here. + </p> + <p> + If the Bohemian had filched the papers or the portfolio from the dead, it + was the prince now who had them in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + Koupriane, as he saw the prince about to pass him, trembled. The prince + saluted him and ironically amused himself by inquiring: + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, how do you do, my dear Monsieur Koupriane. Your Excellency + has risen in good time this morning, it seems to me. Or else it is I who + start for bed too late.” + </p> + <p> + “Prince,” said Koupriane, “my men are in pursuit of a little Bohemian + named Katharina, well known in the restaurants where she sings. We have + seen her go into the Barque. Have you met her by any chance?” + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord, Monsieur Koupriane, I am not the concierge of the Barque, and + I have not noticed anything at all, and nobody. Besides, I am naturally a + little sleepy. Pardon me.” + </p> + <p> + “Prince, it is not possible that you have not seen Katharina.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Monsieur the Prefect of Police, if I had seen her I would not tell + you about it, since you are pursuing her. Do you take me for one of your + bloodhounds? They say you have them in all classes, but I insist that I + haven’t enlisted yet. You have made a mistake, Monsieur Koupriane.” + </p> + <p> + The prince saluted again. But Koupriane still stood in his way. + </p> + <p> + “Prince, consider that this matter is very serious. Michael Nikolaievitch, + General Trebassof’s orderly, is dead, and this little girl has stolen his + papers from his body. All persons who have spoken with Katharina will be + under suspicion. This is an affair of State, monsieur, which may reach + very far. Can you swear to me that you have not seen, that you have not + spoken to Katharina?” + </p> + <p> + The prince looked at Koupriane so insolently that the Prefect turned pale + with rage. Ah, if he were able—if he only dared!—but such men + as this were beyond him. Galitch walked past him without a word of answer, + and ordered the schwitzar to call him a carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Koupriane, “I will make my report to the Tsar.” + </p> + <p> + Galitch turned. He was as pale as Koupriane. + </p> + <p> + “In that case, monsieur,” said he, “don’t forget to add that I am His + Majesty’s most humble servant.” + </p> + <p> + The carriage drew up. The prince stepped in. Koupriane watched him roll + away, raging at heart and with his fists doubled. Just then his men came + up. + </p> + <p> + “Go. Search,” he said roughly, pointing into the Barque. + </p> + <p> + They scattered through the establishment, entering all the rooms. Cries of + irritation and of protest arose. Those lingering after the latest of late + suppers were not pleased at this invasion of the police. Everybody had to + rise while the police looked under the tables, the benches, the long + table-cloths. They went into the pantries and down into the hold. No sign + of Katharina. Suddenly Koupriane, who leaned against a netting and looked + vaguely out upon the horizon, waiting for the outcome of the search, got a + start. Yonder, far away on the other side of the river, between a little + wood and the Staria Derevnia, a light boat drew to the shore, and a little + black spot jumped from it like a flea. Koupriane recognized the little + black spot as Katharina. She was safe. Now he could not reach her. It would + be useless to search the maze of the Bohemian quarter, where her + country-people lived in full control, with customs and privileges that had + never been infringed. The entire Bohemian population of the capital would + have risen against him. It was Prince Galitch who had made him fail. One + of his men came to him: + </p> + <p> + “No luck,” said he. “We have not found Katharina, but she has been here + nevertheless. She met Prince Galitch for just a minute, and gave him + something, then went over the other side into a canoe.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” and the Prefect shrugged his shoulders. “I was sure of it.” + </p> + <p> + He felt more and more, exasperated. He went down along the river edge and + the first person he saw was Rouletabille, who waited for him without any + impatience, seated philosophically on a bench. + </p> + <p> + “I was looking for you,” cried the Prefect. “We have failed. By your + fault! If you had not thrown yourself into my arms—” + </p> + <p> + “I did it on purpose,” declared the reporter. + </p> + <p> + “What! What is that you say? You did it on purpose?” + </p> + <p> + Koupriane choked with rage. + </p> + <p> + “Your Excellency,” said Rouletabille, taking him by the arm, “calm + yourself. They are watching us. Come along and have a cup of tea at + Cubat’s place. Easy now, as though we were out for a walk.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you explain to me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Your Excellency. Remember that I have promised you General + Trebassof’s life in exchange for your prisoner’s. Very well; by throwing + myself in your arms and keeping you from reaching Katharina, I saved the + general’s life. It is very simple.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you laughing at me? Do you think you can mock me?” + </p> + <p> + But the prefect saw quickly that Rouletabille was not fooling and had no + mockery in his manner. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” he insisted, “since you speak seriously, I certainly wish to + understand—” + </p> + <p> + “It is useless,” said Rouletabille. “It is very necessary that you should + not understand.” + </p> + <p> + “But at least...” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, I can’t tell you anything.” + </p> + <p> + “When, then, will you tell me something to explain your unbelievable + conduct?” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille stopped in his tracks and declared solemnly: + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Koupriane, recall what Natacha Feodorovna as she raised her + lovely eyes to heaven, replied to her father, when he, also, wished to + understand: ‘Never.’” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. THE POISON CONTINUES + </h2> + <p> + At ten o’clock that morning Rouletabille went to the Trebassof villa, + which had its guard of secret agents again, a double guard, because + Koupriane was sure the Nihilists would not delay in avenging Michael’s + death. Rouletabille was met by Ermolai, who would not allow him to enter. + The faithful servant uttered some explanation in Russian, which the young + man did not understand, or, rather, Rouletabille understood perfectly from + his manner that henceforth the door of the villa was closed to him. In + vain he insisted on seeing the general, Matrena Petrovna and Mademoiselle + Natacha. Ermolai made no reply but “Niet, niet, niet.” The reporter turned + away without having seen anyone, and walked away deeply depressed. He went + afoot clear into the city, a long promenade, during which his brain surged + with the darkest forebodings. As he passed by the Department of Police he + resolved to see Koupriane again. He went in, gave his name, and was + ushered at once to the Chief of Police, whom he found bent over a long + report that he was reading through with noticeable agitation. + </p> + <p> + “Gounsovski has sent me this,” he said in a rough voice, pointing to the + report. “Gounsovski, ‘to do me a service,’ desires me to know that he is + fully aware of all that happened at the Trebassof datcha last night. He + warns me that the revolutionaries have decided to get through with the + general at once, and that two of them have been given the mission to enter + the datcha in any way possible. They will have bombs upon their bodies and + will blow the bombs and themselves up together as soon as they are beside + the general. Who are the two victims designated for this horrible + vengeance, and who have light-heartedly accepted such a death for + themselves as well as for the general? That is what we don’t know. That is + what we would have known, perhaps, if you had not prevented me from + seizing the papers that Prince Galitch has now,” Koupriane finished, + turning hostilely toward Rouletabille. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille had turned pale. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t regret what happened to the papers,” he said. “It is I who tell you + not to. But what you say doesn’t surprise me. They must believe that + Natacha has betrayed them.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, then you admit at last that she really is their accomplice?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t said that and I don’t admit it. But I know what I mean, and + you, you can’t. Only, know this one thing, that at the present moment I am + the only person able to save you in this horrible situation. To do that I + must see Natacha at once. Make her understand this, while I wait at my + hotel for word. I’ll not leave it.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille saluted Koupriane and went out. + </p> + <p> + Two days passed, during which Rouletabille did not receive any word from + either Natacha or Koupriane, and tried in vain to see them. He made a trip + for a few hours to Finland, going as far as Pergalovo, an isolated town + said to be frequented by the revolutionaries, then returned, much + disturbed, to his hotel, after having written a last letter to Natacha + imploring an interview. The minutes passed very slowly for him in the + hotel’s vestibule, where he had seemed to have taken up a definite + residence. + </p> + <p> + Installed on a bench, he seemed to have become part of the hotel staff, + and more than one traveler took him for an interpreter. Others thought he + was an agent of the Secret Police appointed to study the faces of those + arriving and departing. What was he waiting for, then? Was it for + Annouchka to return for a luncheon or dinner in that place that she + sometimes frequented? And did he at the same time keep watch upon + Annouchka’s apartments just across the way? If that was so, he could only + bewail his luck, for Annouchka did not appear either at her apartments or + the hotel, or at the Krestowsky establishment, which had been obliged to + suppress her performance. Rouletabille naturally thought, in the latter + connection, that some vengeance by Gounsovski lay back of this, since the + head of the Secret Service could hardly forget the way he had been + treated. The reporter could see already the poor singer, in spite of all + her safeguards and the favor of the Imperial family, on the road to the + Siberian steppes or the dungeons of Schlusselbourg. + </p> + <p> + “My, what a country!” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + But his thoughts soon quit Annouchka and returned to the object of his + main preoccupation. He waited for only one thing, and for that as soon as + possible—to have a private interview with Natacha. He had written + her ten letters in two days, but they all remained unanswered. It was an + answer that he waited for so patiently in the vestibule of the hotel—so + patiently, but so nervously, so feverishly. + </p> + <p> + When the postman entered, poor Rouletabille’s heart beat rapidly. On that + answer he waited for depended the formidable part he meant to play before + quitting Russia. He had accomplished nothing up to now, unless he could + play his part in this later development. + </p> + <p> + But the letter did not come. The postman left, and the schwitzar, after + examining all the mail, made him a negative sign. Ah, the servants who + entered, and the errand-boys, how he looked at them! But they never came + for him. Finally, at six o’clock in the evening of the second day, a man + in a frock-coat, with a false astrakhan collar, came in and handed the + concierge a letter for Joseph Rouletabille. The reporter jumped up. Before + the man was out the door he had torn open the letter and read it. The + letter was not from Natacha. It was from Gounsovski. This is what it said: + </p> + <p> + “My dear Monsieur Joseph Rouletabille, if it will not inconvenience you, I + wish you would come and dine with me to-day. I will look for you within + two hours. Madame Gounsovski will be pleased to make your acquaintance. + Believe me your devoted Gounsovski.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille considered, and decided: + </p> + <p> + “I will go. He ought to have wind of what is being plotted, and as for me, + I don’t know where Annouchka has gone. I have more to learn from him than + he has from me. Besides, as Athanase Georgevitch said, one may regret not + accepting the Head of the Okrana’s pleasant invitation.” + </p> + <p> + From six o’clock to seven he still waited vainly for Natacha’s response. + At seven o’clock, he decided to dress for the dinner. Just as he rose, a + messenger arrived. There was still another letter for Joseph Rouletabille. + This time it was from Natacha, who wrote him: + </p> + <p> + “General Trebassof and my step-mother will be very happy to have you come + to dinner to-day. As for myself, monsieur, you will pardon me the order + which has closed to you for a number of days a dwelling where you have + rendered services which I shall not forget all my life.” + </p> + <p> + The letter ended with a vague polite formula. With the letter in his hand + the reporter sat in thought. He seemed to be asking himself, “Is it fish + or flesh?” Was it a letter of thanks or of menace? That was what he could + not decide. Well, he would soon know, for he had decided to accept that + invitation. Anything that brought him and Natacha into communication at + the moment was a thing of capital importance to him. Half-an-hour later he + gave the address of the villa to an isvotchick, and soon he stepped out + before the gate where Ermolai seemed to be waiting for him. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille was so occupied by thought of the conversation he was going + to have with Natacha that he had completely forgotten the excellent + Monsieur Gounsovski and his invitation. + </p> + <p> + The reporter found Koupriane’s agents making a close-linked chain around + the grounds and each watching the other. Matrena had not wished any agent + to be in house. He showed Koupriane’s pass and entered. + </p> + <p> + Ermolai ushered Rouletabille in with shining face. He seemed glad to have + him there again. He bowed low before him and uttered many compliments, of + which the reporter did not understand a word. Rouletabille passed on, + entered the garden and saw Matrena Petrovna there walking with her + step-daughter. They seemed on the best of terms with each other. The + grounds wore an air of tranquillity and the residents seemed to have + totally forgotten the somber tragedy of the other night. Matrena and + Natacha came smilingly up to the young man, who inquired after the + general. They both turned and pointed out Feodor Feodorovitch, who waved + to him from the height of the kiosk, where it seemed the table had been + spread. They were going to dine out of doors this fine night. + </p> + <p> + “Everything goes very well, very well indeed, dear little domovoi,” said + Matrena. “How glad it is to see you and thank you. If you only knew how I + suffered in your absence, I who know how unjust my daughter was to you. + But dear Natacha knows now what she owes you. She doesn’t doubt your word + now, nor your clear intelligence, little angel. Michael Nikolaievitch was + a monster and he was punished as he deserved. You know the police have + proof now that he was one of the Central Revolutionary Committee’s most + dangerous agents. And he an officer! Whom can we trust now!” + </p> + <p> + “And Monsieur Boris Mourazoff, have you seen him since?” inquired + Rouletabille. + </p> + <p> + “Boris called to see us to-day, to say good-by, but we did not receive + him, under the orders of the police. Natacha has written to tell him of + Koupriane’s orders. We have received letters from him; he is quitting St. + Petersburg. + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, after the frightful bloody scene in his little house, when he + learned how Michael Nikolaievitch had found his death, and after he + himself had undergone a severe grilling from the police, and when he + learned the police had sacked his library and gone through his papers, he + resigned, and has resolved to live from now on out in the country, without + seeing anyone, like the philosopher and poet he is. So far as I am + concerned, I think he is doing absolutely right. When a young man is a + poet, it is useless to live like a soldier. Someone has said that, I don’t + know the name now, and when one has ideas that may upset other people, + surely they ought to live in solitude.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille looked at Natacha, who was as pale as her white gown, and who + added no word to her mother’s outburst. They had drawn near the kiosk. + Rouletabille saluted the general, who called to him to come up and, when + the young man extended his hand, he drew him abruptly nearer and embraced + him. To show Rouletabille how active he was getting again, Feodor + Feodorovitch marched up and down the kiosk with only the aid of a stick. + He went and came with a sort of wild, furious gayety. + </p> + <p> + “They haven’t got me yet, the dogs. They haven’t got me! And one (he was + thinking of Michael) who saw me every day was here just for that. Very + well. I ask you where he is now. And yet here I am! An attack! I’m always + here! But with a good eye; and I begin to have a good leg. We shall see. + Why, I recollect how, when I was at Tiflis, there was an insurrection in + the Caucasus. We fought. Several times I could feel the swish of bullets + past my hair. My comrades fell around me like flies. But nothing happened + to me, not a thing. And here now! They will not get me, they will not get + me. You know how they plan now to come to me, as living bombs. Yes, they + have decided on that. I can’t press a friend’s hand any more without the + fear of seeing him explode. What do you think of that? But they won’t get + me. Come, drink my health. A small glass of vodka for an appetizer. You + see, young man, we are going to have zakouskis here. What a marvelous + panorama! You can see everything from here. If the enemy comes,” he added + with a singular loud laugh, “we can’t fail to detect him.” + </p> + <p> + Certainly the kiosk did rise high above the garden and was completely + detached, no wall being near. They had a clear view. No branches of trees + hung over the roof and no tree hid the view. The rustic table of rough + wood was covered with a short cloth and was spread with zakouskis. It was + a meal under the open sky, a seat and a glass in the clear azure. The + evening could not have been softer and clearer. And, as the general felt + so gay, the repast would have promised to be most agreeable, if + Rouletabille had not noticed that Matrena Petrovna and Natacha were uneasy + and downcast. The reporter soon saw, too, that all the general’s joviality + was a little excessive. Anyone would have said that Feodor Feodorovitch + spoke to distract himself, to keep himself from thinking. There was + sufficient excuse for him after the outrageous drama of the other night. + Rouletabille noticed further that the general never looked at his + daughter, even when he spoke to her. There was too formidable a mystery + lying between them for restraint not to increase day by day. Rouletabille + involuntarily shook his head, saddened by all he saw. His movement was + surprised by Matrena Petrovna, who pressed his hand in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Well, now,” said the general, “well, now my children, where is the + vodka?” + </p> + <p> + Among all the bottles which graced the table the general looked in vain + for his flask of vodka. How in the world could he dine if he did not + prepare for that important act by the rapid absorption of two or three + little glasses of white wine, between two or three sandwiches of caviare! + </p> + <p> + “Ermolai must have left it in the wine-chest,” said Matrena. + </p> + <p> + The wine-closet was in the dining-room. She rose to go there, but Natacha + hurried before her down the little flight of steps, crying, “Stay there, + mamma. I will go.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you bother, either. I know where it is,” cried Rouletabille, and + hurried after Natacha. + </p> + <p> + She did not stop. The two young people arrived in the dining-room at the + same time. They were there alone, as Rouletabille had foreseen. He stopped + Natacha and planted himself in front of her. + </p> + <p> + “Why, mademoiselle, did you not answer me earlier?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I don’t wish to have any conversation with you.” + </p> + <p> + “If that was so, you would not have come here, where you were sure I would + follow.” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated, with an emotion that would have been incomprehensible to + all others perhaps, but was not to Rouletabille. + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes, I wished to say this to you: Don’t write to me any more. Don’t + speak to me. Don’t see me. Go away from here, monsieur; go away. They will + have your life. And if you have found out anything, forget it. Ah, on the + head of your mother, forget it, or you are lost. That is what I wished to + tell you. And now, you go.” + </p> + <p> + She grasped his hand in a quick sympathetic movement that she seemed + instantly to regret. + </p> + <p> + “You go away,” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille still held his place before her. She turned from him; she did + not wish to hear anything further. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” said he, “you are watched closer than ever. Who will take + Michael Nikolaievitch’s place?” + </p> + <p> + “Madman, be silent! Hush!” + </p> + <p> + “I am here.” + </p> + <p> + He said this with such simple bravery that tears sprang to her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Dear man! Poor man! Dear brave man!” She did not know what to say. Her + emotion checked all utterance. But it was necessary for her to enable him + to understand that there was nothing he could do to help her in her sad + straits. + </p> + <p> + “No. If they knew what you have just said, what you have proposed now, you + would be dead to-morrow. Don’t let them suspect. And above all, don’t try + to see me anywhere. Go back to papa at once. We have been here too long. + What if they learn of it?—and they learn everything! They are + everywhere, and have ears everywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle, just one word more, a single word. Do you doubt now that + Michael tried to poison your father?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I wish to believe it. I wish to. I wish to believe it for your sake, + my poor boy.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille desired something besides “I wish to believe it for your + sake, my poor boy.” He was far from being satisfied. She saw him turn + pale. She tried to reassure him while her trembling hands raised the lid + of the wine-chest. + </p> + <p> + “What makes me think you are right is that I have decided myself that only + one and the same person, as you said, climbed to the window of the little + balcony. Yes, no one can doubt that, and you have reasoned well.” + </p> + <p> + But he persisted still. + </p> + <p> + “And yet, in spite of that, you are not entirely sure, since you say, ‘I + wish to believe it, my poor boy.’” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Rouletabille, someone might have tried to poison my father, and + not have come by way of the window.” + </p> + <p> + “No, that is impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing is impossible to them.” + </p> + <p> + And she turned her head away again. + </p> + <p> + “Why, why,” she said, with her voice entirely changed and quite + indifferent, as if she wished to be merely ‘the daughter of the house’ in + conversation with the young man, “the vodka is not in the wine chest, + after all. What has Ermolai done with it, then?” + </p> + <p> + She ran over to the buffet and found the flask. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, here it is. Papa shan’t be without it, after all.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille was already into the garden again. + </p> + <p> + “If that is the only doubt she has,” he said to himself, “I can reassure + her. No one could come, excepting by the window. And only one came that + way.” + </p> + <p> + The young girl had rejoined him, bringing the flask. They crossed the + garden together to the general, who was whiling away the time as he waited + for his vodka explaining to Matrena Petrovna the nature of “the + constitution.” He had spilt a box of matches on the table and arranged + them carefully. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” he cried to Natacha and Rouletabille. “Come here and I will + explain to you as well what this Constitution amounts to.” + </p> + <p> + The young people leaned over his demonstration curiously and all eyes in + the kiosk were intent on the matches. + </p> + <p> + “You see that match,” said Feodor Feodorovitch. “It is the Emperor. And + this other match is the Empress; this one is the Tsarevitch; and that one + is the Grand-duke Alexander; and these are the other granddukes. Now, here + are the ministers and there the principal governors, and then the + generals; these here are the bishops.” + </p> + <p> + The whole box of matches was used up, and each match was in its place, as + is the way in an empire where proper etiquette prevails in government and + the social order. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” continued the general, “do you want to know, Matrena Petrovna, + what a constitution is? There! That is the Constitution.” + </p> + <p> + The general, with a swoop of his hand, mixed all the matches. Rouletabille + laughed, but the good Matrena said: + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand, Feodor.” + </p> + <p> + “Find the Emperor now.” + </p> + <p> + Then Matrena understood. She laughed heartily, she laughed violently, and + Natacha laughed also. Delighted with his success, Feodor Feodorovitch took + up one of the little glasses that Natacha had filled with the vodka she + brought. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, my children,” said he. “We are going to commence the zakouskis. + Koupriane ought to have been here before this.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this, holding still the little glass in his hand, he felt in his + pocket with the other for his watch, and drew out a magnificent large + watch whose ticking was easily heard. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the watch has come back from the repairer,” Rouletabille remarked + smilingly to Matrena Petrovna. “It looks like a splendid one.” + </p> + <p> + “It has very fine works,” said the general. “It was bequeathed to me by my + grandfather. It marks the seconds, and the phases of the moon, and sounds + the hours and half-hours.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille bent over the watch, admiring it. + </p> + <p> + “You expect M. Koupriane for dinner?” inquired the young man, still + examining the watch. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but since he is so late, we’ll not delay any longer. Your healths, + my children,” said the general as Rouletabille handed him back the watch + and he put it in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Your health, Feodor Feodorovitch,” replied Matrena Petrovna, with her + usual tenderness. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille and Natacha only touched their lips to the vodka, but Feodor + Feodorovitch and Matrena drank theirs in the Russian fashion, head back + and all at a draught, draining it to the bottom and flinging the contents + to the back of the throat. They had no more than performed this gesture + when the general uttered an oath and tried to expel what he had drained so + heartily. Matrena Petrovna spat violently also, looking with horror at her + husband. + </p> + <p> + “What is it? What has someone put in the vodka?” cried Feodor. + </p> + <p> + “What has someone put in the vodka?” repeated Matrena Petrovna in a thick + voice, her eyes almost starting from her head. + </p> + <p> + The two young people threw themselves upon the unfortunates. Feodor’s face + had an expression of atrocious suffering. + </p> + <p> + “We are poisoned,” cried the general, in the midst of his chokings. “I am + burning inside.” + </p> + <p> + Almost mad, Natacha took her father’s head in her hands. She cried to him: + </p> + <p> + “Vomit, papa; vomit!” + </p> + <p> + “We must find an emetic,” cried Rouletabille, holding on to the general, + who had almost slipped from his arms. + </p> + <p> + Matrena Petrovna, whose gagging noises were violent, hurried down the + steps of the kiosk, crossed the garden as though wild-fire were behind + her, and bounded into the veranda. During this time the general succeeded + in easing himself, thanks to Rouletabille, who had thrust a spoon to the + root of his tongue. Natacha could do nothing but cry, “My God, my God, my + God!” Feodor held onto his stomach, still crying, “I’m burning, I’m + burning!” The scene was frightfully tragic and funny at the same time. To + add to the burlesque, the general’s watch in his pocket struck eight + o’clock. Feodor Feodorovitch stood up in a final supreme effort. “Oh, it + is horrible!” Matrena Petrovna showed a red, almost violet face as she + came back; she distorted it, she choked, her mouth twitched, but she + brought something, a little packet that she waved, and from which, + trembling frightenedly, she shook a powder into the first two empty + glasses, which were on her side of the table and were those she and the + general had drained. She still had strength to fill them with water, while + Rouletabille was almost overcome by the general, whom he still had in his + arms, and Natacha concerned herself with nothing but her father, leaning + over him as though to follow the progress of the terrible poison, to read + in his eyes if it was to be life or death. “Ipecac,” cried Matrena + Petrovna, and she made the general drink it. She did not drink until after + him. The heroic woman must have exerted superhuman force to go herself to + find the saving antidote in her medicine-chest, even while the agony + pervaded her vitals. + </p> + <p> + Some minutes later both could be considered saved. The servants, Ermolai + at their head, were clustered about. Most of them had been at the lodge + and they had not, it appeared, heard the beginning of the affair, the + cries of Natacha and Rouletabille. Koupriane arrived just then. It was he + who worked with Natacha in getting the two to bed. Then he directed one of + his agents to go for the nearest doctors they could find. + </p> + <p> + This done, the Prefect of Police went toward the kiosk where he had left + Rouletabille. But Rouletabille was not to be found, and the flask of vodka + and the glasses from which they had drunk were gone also. Ermolai was + near-by, and he inquired of the servant for the young Frenchman. Ermolai + replied that he had just gone away, carrying the flask and the glasses. + Koupriane swore. He shook Ermolai and even started to give him a blow with + the fist for permitting such a thing to happen before his eyes without + making a protest. + </p> + <p> + Ermolai, who had his own haughtiness, dodged Koupriane’s fist and replied + that he had wished to prevent the young Frenchman, but the reporter had + shown him a police-paper on which Koupriane himself had declared in + advance that the young Frenchman was to do anything he pleased. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII. PERE ALEXIS + </h2> + <p> + Koupriane jumped into his carriage and hurried toward St. Petersburg. On + the way he spoke to three agents who only he knew were posted in the + neighborhood of Eliaguine. They told him the route Rouletabille had taken. + The reporter had certainly returned into the city. He hurried toward + Troitski Bridge. There, at the corner of the Naberjnaia, Koupriane saw the + reporter in a hired conveyance. Rouletabille was pounding his coachman in + the back, Russian fashion, to make him go faster, and was calling with all + his strength one of the few words he had had time to learn, “Naleva, + naleva” (to the left). The driver was forced to understand at last, for + there was no other way to turn than to the left. If he had turned to the + right (naprava) he would have driven into the river. The conveyance + clattered over the pointed flints of a neighborhood that led to a little + street, Aptiekarski-Pereoulok, at the corner of the Katharine canal. This + “alley of the pharmacists” as a matter of fact contained no pharmacists, + but there was a curious sign of a herbarium, where Rouletabille made the + driver stop. As the carriage rolled under the arch Rouletabille recognized + Koupriane. He did not wait, but cried to him, “Ah, here you are. All + right; follow me.” He still had the flask and the glasses in his hands. + Koupriane couldn’t help noticing how strange he looked. He passed through + a court with him, and into a squalid shop. + </p> + <p> + “What,” said Koupriane, “do you know Pere Alexis?” + </p> + <p> + They were in the midst of a curious litter. Clusters of dried herbs hung + from the ceiling, and all among them were clumps of old boots, shriveled + skins, battered pans, scrap-iron, sheep-skins, useless touloupes, and on + the floor musty old clothes, moth-eaten furs, and sheep-skin coats that + even a moujik of the swamps would not have deigned to wear. Here and there + were old teeth, ragged finery, dilapidated hats, and jars of strange herbs + ranged upon some rickety shelving. Between the set of scales on the + counter and a heap of little blocks of wood used for figuring the accounts + of this singular business were ungilded ikons, oxidized silver crosses, + and Byzantine pictures representing scenes from the Old and New + Testaments. Jars of alcohol with what seemed to be the skeletons of frogs + swimming in them filled what space was left. In a corner of this large, + murky room, under the vault of mossed stone, a small altar stood and the + light burned in a hanging glass of oil before the holy images. A man was + praying before the altar. He wore the costume of old Russia, the caftan of + green cloth, buttoned at the shoulder and tucked in at the waist by a + narrow belt. He had a bushy beard and his hair fell to his shoulders. When + he had finished his prayer he rose, perceived Rouletabille and came over + to take his hand. He spoke French to the reporter: + </p> + <p> + “Well, here you are again, lad. Do you bring poison again to-day? This + will end by being found out, and the police...” + </p> + <p> + Just then he discerned Koupriane’s form in the shadow, drew close to make + out who it was, and fell to his knees as he saw who it was. Rouletabille + tried to raise him, but he insisted on prostrating himself. He was sure + the Prefect of Police had come to his house to hang him. Finally he was + reassured by Rouletabille’s positive assertions and the great chief’s + robust laugh. The Prefect wished to know how the young man came to be + acquainted with the “alchemist” of the police. Rouletabille told him in a + few words. + </p> + <p> + Maitre Alexis, in his youth, went to France afoot, to study pharmacy, + because of his enthusiasm for chemistry. But he always remained + countrified, very much a Russian peasant, a semi-Oriental bear, and did + not achieve his degree. He took some certificates, but the examinations + were too much for him. For fifty years he lived miserably as a + pharmacist’s assistant in the back of a disreputable shop in the Notre + Dame quarter. The proprietor of the place was implicated in the famous + affair of the gold ingots, which started Rouletabille’s reputation, and + was arrested along with his assistant, Alexis. It was Rouletabille who + proved, clear as day, that poor Alexis was innocent, and that he had never + been cognizant of his master’s evil ways, being absorbed in the depths of + his laboratory in trying to work out a naive alchemy which fascinated him, + though the world of chemistry had passed it by centuries ago. At the trial + Alexis was acquitted, but found himself in the street. He shed what tears + remained in his body upon the neck of the reporter, assuring him of + paradise if he got him back to his own country, because he desired only + the one thing more of life, that he might see his birth-land before he + died. Rouletabille advanced the necessary means and sent him to St. + Petersburg. There he was picked up at the end of two days by the police, + in a petty gambling-game, and thrown into prison, where he promptly had a + chance to show his talents. He cured some of his companions in misery, and + even some of the guards. A guard who had an injured leg, whose healing he + had despaired of, was cured by Alexis. Then there was found to be no + actual charge against him. They set him free and, moreover, they + interested themselves in him. They found meager employment for him in the + Stchoukine-dvor, an immense popular bazaar. He accumulated a few roubles + and installed himself on his own account at the back of a court in the + Aptiekarski-Pereoulok, where he gradually piled up a heap of old odds and + ends that no one wanted even in the Stchoukine-dvor. But he was happy, + because behind his shop he had installed a little laboratory where he + continued for his pleasure his experiments in alchemy and his study of + plants. He still proposed to write a book that he had already spoken of in + France to Rouletabille, to prove the truth of “Empiric Treatment of + Medicinal Herbs, the Science of Alchemy, and the Ancient Experiments in + Sorcery.” Between times he continued to cure anyone who applied to him, + and the police in particular. The police guards protected him and used + him. He had splendid plasters for them after “the scandal,” as they called + the October riots. So when the doctors of the quarter tried to prosecute + him for illegal practice, a deputation of police-guards went to Koupriane, + who took the responsibility and discontinued proceedings against him. They + regarded him as under protection of the saints, and Alexis soon came to be + regarded himself as something of a holy man. He never failed every + Christmas and Easter to send his finest images to Rouletabille, wishing + him all prosperity and saying that if ever he came to St. Petersburg he + should be happy to receive him at Aptiekarski-Pereoulok, where he was + established in honest labor. Pere Alexis, like all the true saints, was a + modest man. + </p> + <p> + When Alexis had recovered a little from his emotion Rouletabille said to + him: + </p> + <p> + “Pere Alexis, I do bring you poison again, but you have nothing to fear, + for His Excellency the Chief of Police is with me. Here is what we want + you to do. You must tell us what poison these four glasses have held, and + what poison is still in this flask and this little phial.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that little phial?” demanded Koupriane, as he saw Rouletabille + pull a small, stoppered bottle out of his pocket. + </p> + <p> + The reporter replied, “I have put into this bottle the vodka that was + poured into Natacha’s glass and mine and that we barely touched.” + </p> + <p> + “Someone has tried to poison you!” exclaimed Pere Alexis. + </p> + <p> + “No, not me,” replied Rouletabille, in bored fashion. “Don’t think about + that. Simply do what I tell you. Then analyze these two napkins, as well.” + </p> + <p> + And he drew from his coat two soiled napkins. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Koupriane, “you have thought of everything.” + </p> + <p> + “They are the napkins the general and his wife used.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I understand that,” said the Chief of Police. + </p> + <p> + “And you, Alexis, do you understand?” asked the reporter. “When can we + have the result of your analysis? + </p> + <p> + “In an hour, at the latest.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Koupriane. “Now I need not tell you to hold your tongue. + I am going to leave one of my men here. You will write us a note that you + will seal, and he will bring it to head-quarters. Sure you understand? In + an hour?” + </p> + <p> + “In an hour, Excellency.” + </p> + <p> + They went out, and Alexis followed them, bowing to the floor. Koupriane + had Rouletabille get into his carriage. The young man did as he was told. + One would have said he did not know where he was or what he did. He made + no reply to the chief’s questions. + </p> + <p> + “This Pere Alexander,” resumed Koupriane, “is a character, really quite a + figure. And a bit of a schemer, I should say. He has seen how Father John + of Cronstadt succeeded, and he says to himself, ‘Since the sailors had + their Father John of Cronstadt, why shouldn’t the police-guard have their + Father Alexis of Aptiekarski-Pereoulok?’” + </p> + <p> + But Rouletabille did not reply at all, and Koupriane wound up by demanding + what was the matter with him. + </p> + <p> + “The matter is,” replied Rouletabille, unable longer to conceal his + anguish, “that the poison continues.” + </p> + <p> + “Does that astonish you?” returned Koupriane. “It doesn’t me.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille looked at him and shook his head. His lips trembled as he + said, “I know what you think. It is abominable. But the thing I have done + certainly is more abominable still.” + </p> + <p> + “What have you done, then, Monsieur Rouletabille?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I have caused the death of an innocent man.” + </p> + <p> + “So long as you aren’t sure of it, you would better not fret about it, my + dear friend.” + </p> + <p> + “It is enough that the doubt has arisen,” said the reporter, “almost to + kill me;” and he heaved so gloomy a sigh that the excellent Monsieur + Koupriane felt pity for the lad. He tapped him on the knee. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, young man, you ought to know one thing by this time—‘you + can’t make omelettes without breaking eggs,’ as they say, I think, in + Paris.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille turned away from him with horror in his heart. If there + should be another, someone besides Michael! If it was another hand than + his that appeared to Matrena and him in the mysterious night! If Michael + Nikolaievitch had been innocent! Well, he would kill himself, that was + all. And those horrible words that he had exchanged with Natacha rose in + his memory, singing in his ears as though they would deafen him. + </p> + <p> + “Do you doubt still?” he had asked her, “that Michael tried to poison your + father?” + </p> + <p> + And Natacha had replied, “I wish to believe it! I wish to believe it, for + your sake, my poor boy.” And then he recalled her other words, still more + frightful now! “Couldn’t someone have tried to poison my father and not + have come by the window?” He had faced such a hypothesis with assurance + then—but now, now that the poison continued, continued within the + house, where he believed himself so fully aware of all people and things—continued + now that Michael Nikolaievitch was dead—ah, where did it come from, + this poison?—and what was it? Pere Alexis would hurry his analysis + if he had any regard for poor Rouletabille. + </p> + <p> + For Rouletabille to doubt, and in an affair where already there was one + man dead through his agency, was torment worse than death. + </p> + <p> + When they arrived at police-headquarters, Rouletabille jumped from + Koupriane’s carriage and without saying a word hailed an empty isvotchick + that was passing. He had himself driven back to Pere Alexis. His doubt + mastered his will; he could not bear to wait away. Under the arch of + Aptiekarski-Pereoulok he saw once more the man Koupriane had placed there + with the order to bring him Alexis’s message. The man looked at him in + astonishment. Rouletabille crossed the court and entered the dingy old + room once more. Pere Alexis was not there, naturally, engaged as he was in + his laboratory. But a person whom he did not recognize at first sight + attracted the reporter’s attention. In the half-light of the shop a + melancholy shadow leaned over the ikons on the counter. It was only when + he straightened up, with a deep sigh, and a little light, deflected and + yellow from passing through window-panes that had known no touch of + cleaning since they were placed there, fell faintly on the face, that + Rouletabille ascertained he was face to face with Boris Mourazoff. It was + indeed he, the erstwhile brilliant officer whose elegance and charm the + reporter had admired as he saw him at beautiful Natacha’s feet in the + datcha at Eliaguine. Now, no more in uniform, he had thrown over his bowed + shoulders a wretched coat, whose sleeves swayed listlessly at his sides, + in accord with his mood of languid desperation, a felt hat with the rim + turned down hid a little the misery in his face in these few days, these + not-many hours, how he was changed! But, even as he was, he still + concerned Rouletabille. What was he doing there? Was he not going to go + away, perhaps? He had picked up an ikon from the counter and carried it + over to the window to examine its oxidized silver, giving such close + attention to it that the reporter hoped he might reach the door of the + laboratory without being noticed. He already had his hand on the knob of + that door, which was behind the counter, when he heard his name called. + </p> + <p> + “It is you, Monsieur Rouletabille,” said the low, sad voice of Boris. + “What has brought you here, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, Monsieur Boris Mourazoff, unless I’m mistaken? I certainly + didn’t expect to find you here in Pere Alexis’s place.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not, Monsieur Rouletabille? One can find anything here in Pere + Alexis’s stock. See; here are two old ikons in wood, carved with + sculptures, which came direct from Athos, and can’t be equaled, I assure + you, either at Gastini-Dvor nor even at Stchoukine-Dvor.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, that is possible,” said Rouletabille, impatiently. “Are you an + amateur of such things?” he added, in order to say something. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, like anybody else. But I was going to tell you, Monsieur + Rouletabille, I have resigned my commission. I have resolved to retire + from the world; I am going on a long voyage.” (Rouletabille thought: ‘Why + not have gone at once?’) “And before going, I have come here to supply + myself with some little gifts to send those of my friends I particularly + care for, although now, my dear Monsieur Rouletabille, I don’t care much + for anything.” + </p> + <p> + “You look desolate enough, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + Boris sighed like a child. + </p> + <p> + “How could it be otherwise?” he said. “I loved and believed myself + beloved. But it proved to be—nothing, alas!” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes one only imagines things,” said Rouletabille, keeping his hand + on the door. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” said the other, growing more and more melancholy. “So a man + suffers. He is his own tormentor; he himself makes the wheel on which, + like his own executioner, he binds himself.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not necessary, monsieur; it is not necessary,” counseled the + reporter. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” implored Boris in a voice that showed tears were not far away. + “You are still a child, but still you can see things. Do you believe + Natacha loves me?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of it, Monsieur Boris; I am sure of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of it, too. But I don’t know what to think now. She has let me + go, without trying to detain me, without a word of hope.” + </p> + <p> + “And where are you going like that?” + </p> + <p> + “I am returning to the Orel country, where I first saw her.” + </p> + <p> + “That is good, very good, Monsieur Boris. At least there you are sure to + see her again. She goes there every year with her parents for a few weeks. + It is a detail you haven’t overlooked, doubtless.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I haven’t. I will tell you that that prospect decided my place + of retreat.” + </p> + <p> + “See!” + </p> + <p> + “God gives me nothing, but He opens His treasures, and each takes what he + can.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; and Mademoiselle Natacha, does she know it is to Orel you have + decided to retire?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no reason for concealing it from her, Monsieur Rouletabille.” + </p> + <p> + “So far so good. You needn’t feel so desolate, my dear Monsieur Boris. All + is not lost. I will say even that I see a future for you full of hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, if you are able to say that truthfully, I am happy indeed to have met + you. I will never forget this rope you have flung me when all the waters + seemed closing over my head. ‘What do you advise, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I advise you to go to Orel, monsieur, and as quickly as possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. You must have reasons for saying that. I obey you, monsieur, + and go.” + </p> + <p> + As Boris started towards the entrance-arch, Rouletabille slipped into the + laboratory. Old Alexis was bent over his retorts. A wretched lamp barely + lighted his obscure work. He turned at the noise the reporter made. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!-you, lad!” + </p> + <p> + “‘Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing so quick. Still, I have already analyzed the two napkins, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes? The stains? Tell me, for the love of God!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my boy, it is arsenate of soda again.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille, stricken to the heart, uttered a low cry and everything + seemed to dance around him. Pere Alexis in the midst of all the strange + laboratory instruments seemed Satan himself, and he repulsed the kindly + arms stretched forth to sustain him; in the gloom, where danced here and + there the little blue flames from the crucibles, lively as flickering + tongues, he believed he saw Michael Nikolaievitch’s ghost come to cry, + “The arsenate of soda continues, and I am dead.” He fell against the door, + which swung open, and he rolled as far as the counter, and struck his face + against it. The shock, that might well have been fatal, brought him out of + his intense nightmare and made him instantly himself again. He rose, + jumped over the heap of boots and fol-de-rols, and leaped to the court. + There Boris grabbed him by his coat. Rouletabille turned, furious: + </p> + <p> + “What do you want? You haven’t started for the Orel yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, I am going, but I will be very grateful if you will take these + things yourself to—to Natacha.” He showed him, still with despairing + mien, the two ikons from Mount Athos, and Rouletabille took them from him, + thrust them in his pocket, and hurried on, crying, “I understand.” + </p> + <p> + Outside, Rouletabille tried to get hold of himself, to recover his + coolness a little. Was it possible that he had made a mortal error? Alas, + alas, how could he doubt it now! The arsenate of soda continued. He made, + a superhuman effort to ward off the horror of that, even momentarily—the + death of innocent Michael Nikolaievitch—and to think of nothing + except the immediate consequences, which must be carefully considered if + he wished to avoid some new catastrophe. Ah, the assassin was not + discouraged. And that time, what a piece of work he had tried! What a + hecatomb if he had succeeded! The general, Matrena Petrovna, Natacha and + Rouletabille himself (who almost regretted, so far as he was concerned, + that it had not succeeded)—and Koupriane! Koupriane, who should have + been there for luncheon. What a bag for the Nihilists! That was it, that + was it. Rouletabille understood now why they had not hesitated to poison + everybody at once: Koupriane was among them. + </p> + <p> + Michael Nikolaievitch would have been avenged! + </p> + <p> + The attempt had failed this time, but what might they not expect now! From + the moment he believed Michael Nikolaievitch no longer guilty, as he had + imagined, Rouletabille fell into a bottomless abyss. + </p> + <p> + Where should he go? After a few moments he made the circuit of the + Rotunda, which serves as the market for this quarter and is the finest + ornament of Aptiekarski-Pereoulok. He made the circuit without knowing it, + without stopping for anything, without seeing or understanding anything. + As a broken-winded horse makes its way in the treadmill, so he walked + around with the thought that he also was lost in a treadmill that led him + nowhere. Rouletabille was no longer Rouletabille. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII. THE LIVING BOMBS + </h2> + <p> + At random—because now he could only act at random—he returned + to the datcha. Great disorder reigned there. The guard had been doubled. + The general’s friends, summoned by Trebassof, surrounded the two poisoned + sufferers and filled the house with their bustling devotion and their + protestations of affection. However, an insignificant doctor from the + common quarter of the Vasili-Ostrow, brought by the police, reassured + everybody. The police had not found the general’s household physician at + home, but promised the immediate arrival of two specialists, whom they had + found instead. In the meantime they had picked up on the way this little + doctor, who was gay and talkative as a magpie. He had enough to do looking + after Matrena Petrovna, who had been so sick that her husband, Feodor + Feodorovitch, still trembled, “for the first time in his life,” as the + excellent Ivan Petrovitch said. + </p> + <p> + The reporter was astonished at not finding Natacha either in Matrena’s + apartment or Feodor’s. He asked Matrena where her step-daughter was. + Matrena turned a frightened face toward him. When they were alone, she + said: + </p> + <p> + “We do not know where she is. Almost as soon as you left she disappeared, + and no one has seen her since. The general has asked for her several + times. I have had to tell him Koupriane took her with him to learn the + details from her of what happened.” + </p> + <p> + “She is not with Koupriane,” said Rouletabille. + </p> + <p> + “Where is she? This disappearance is more than strange at the moment we + were dying, when her father—O God! Leave me, my child; I am + stifling; I am stifling.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille called the temporary doctor and withdrew from the chamber. He + had come with the idea of inspecting the house room by room, corner by + corner, to make sure whether or not any possibility of entrance existed + that he had not noticed before, an entrance would-be poisoners were + continuing to use. But now a new fact confronted him and overshadowed + everything: the disappearance of Natacha. How he lamented his ignorance of + the Russian language—and not one of Koupriane’s men knew French. He + might draw something out of Ermolai. + </p> + <p> + Ermolai said he had seen Natacha just outside the gate for a moment, + looking up and down the road. Then he had been called to the general, and + so knew nothing further. + </p> + <p> + That was all the reporter could gather from the gestures rather than the + words of the old servant. + </p> + <p> + An additional difficulty now was that twilight drew on, and it was + impossible for the reporter to discern Natacha’s foot-prints. Was it true + that the young girl had fled at such a moment, immediately after the + poisoning, before she knew whether her father and mother were entirely out + of danger? If Natacha were innocent, as Rouletabille still wished to + believe, such an attitude was simply incomprehensible. And the girl could + not but be aware she would increase Koupriane’s suspicions. The reporter + had a vital reason for seeing her immediately, a vital reason for all + concerned, above all in this moment when the Nihilists were culminating + their plans, a vital reason for her and for him, equally menaced with + death, to talk with her and to renew the propositions he had made a few + minutes before the poisoning and which she had not wished to hear him talk + about, in fearful pity for him or in defiance of him. Where was Natacha? + He thought maybe she was trying to rejoin Annouchka, and there were + reasons for that, both if she were innocent and if she were guilty. But + where was Annouchka? Who could say! Gounsovski perhaps. Rouletabille + jumped into an isvo, returning from the Point empty, and gave Gounsovski’s + address. He deigned then to recall that he had been invited that same day + to dine with the Gounsovskis. They would no longer be expecting him. He + blamed himself. + </p> + <p> + They received him, but they had long since finished dinner. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur and Madame Gounsovski were playing a game of draughts under the + lamp. Rouletabille as he entered the drawing-room recognized the shining, + fattish bald head of the terrible man. Gounsovski came to him, bowing, + obsequious, his fat hands held out. He was presented to Madame Gounsovski, + who was besprinkled with jewels over her black silk gown. She had a muddy + skin and magnificent eyes. She also was tentatively effusive. “We waited + for you, monsieur,” she said, smirking timidly, with the careful charm of + a woman a little along in years who relies still on infantine graces. As + the recreant young man offered his apologies, “Oh, we know you are much + occupied, Monsieur Rouletabille. My husband said that to me only a moment + ago. But he knew you would come finally. In the end one always accepts my + husband’s invitation.” She said this with a fat smile of importance. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille turned cold at this last phrase. He felt actual fear in the + presence of these two figures, so atrociously commonplace, in their + horrible, decent little drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + Madame continued: + </p> + <p> + “But you have had rather a bad dinner already, through that dreadful + affair at General Trebassof’s. Come into the dining-room.” “Ah, so someone + has told you?” said Rouletabille. “No, no, thanks; I don’t need anything + more. You know what has happened?” + </p> + <p> + “If you had come to dinner, perhaps nothing would have happened at all, + you know,” said Gounsovski tranquilly, seating himself again on the + cushions and considering his game of draughts through his glasses. + “Anyway, congratulations to Koupriane for being away from there through + his fear.” + </p> + <p> + For Gounsovski there was only Koupriane! The life or death of Trebassof + did not occupy his mind. Only the acts and movements of the Prefect of + Police had power to move him. He ordered a waiting-maid who glided into + the apartment without making more noise than a shadow to bring a small + stand loaded with zakouskis and bottles of champagne close to the + game-table, and he moved one of his pawns, saying, “You will permit me? + This move is mine. I don’t wish to lose it.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille ventured to lay his hand on the oily, hairy fist which + extended from a dubious cuff. + </p> + <p> + “What is this you tell me? How could you have foreseen it?” + </p> + <p> + “It was easy to foresee everything,” replied Gounsovski, offering cigars, + “to foresee everything from the moment Matiew’s place was filled by + Priemkof.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” questioned Rouletabille, recalling with some inquietude the sight + of the whipping in the guards’ chapel. + </p> + <p> + “Well, this Priemkof, between ourselves,” (and he bent close to the + reporter’s ear) “is no better, as a police-guard for Koupriane than Matiew + himself. Very dangerous. So when I learned that he took Matiew’s place at + the datcha des Iles, I thought there was sure to be some unfortunate + happening. But it was no affair of mine, was it? Koupriane would have been + able to say to me, ‘Mind your own business.’ I had gone far enough in + warning him of the ‘living bombs.’ They had been denounced to us by the + same agency that enabled us to seize the two living bombs (women, if you + please!) who were going to the military tribunal at Cronstadt after the + rebellion in the fleet. Let him recall that. That ought to make him + reflect. I am a brave man. I know he speaks ill of me; but I don’t wish + him any harm. The interests of the Empire before all else between us! I + wouldn’t talk to you as I do if I didn’t know the Tsar honors you with his + favor. Then I invited you to dinner. As one dines one talks. But you did + not come. And, while you were dining down there and while Priemkof was on + guard at the datcha, that annoying affair Madame Gounsovski has spoken + about happened.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille had not sat down, in spite of Madame Gounsovski’s + insistences. He took the box of cigars brusquely out of the hand of the + Chief of the Secret Service, who had continued tendering them, for this + detail of hospitality only annoyed his mood, which had been dark enough + for hours and was now deepened by what the other had just said. He + comprehended only one thing, that a man named Priemkof, whom he had never + heard spoken of, as determined as Matiew to destroy the general, had been + entrusted by Koupriane with the guard of the datcha des Iles. It was + necessary to warn Koupriane instantly. + </p> + <p> + “How is it that you have not done so already, yourself, Monsieur + Gounsovski? Why wait to speak about it to me? It is unimaginable.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon, pardon,” said Gounsovski, smiling softly behind his goggles; “it + is not the same thing.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, it is not the same thing,” seconded the lady with the black silk, + brilliant jewels and flabby chin. “We speak here to a friend in the course + of dinner-talk, to a friend who is not of the police. We never denounce + anybody.” + </p> + <p> + “We must tell you. But sit down now,” Gounsovski still insisted, lighting + his cigar. “Be reasonable. They have just tried to poison him, so they + will take time to breathe before they try something else. Then, too, this + poison makes me think they may have given up the idea of living bombs. + Then, after all, what is to be will be.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” approved the ample dame. “The police never have been able to + prevent what was bound to happen. But, speaking of this Priemkof, it + remains between us, eh? Between just us?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we must tell you now,” Gounsovski slipped in softly, “that it will + be much better not to let Koupriane know that you got the information from + me. Because then, you understand, he would not believe you; or, rather, he + would not believe me. That is why we take these precautions of dining and + smoking a cigar. We speak of one thing and another and you do as you + please with what we say. But, to make them useful, it is absolutely + necessary, I repeat, to be silent about their source.” (As he said that, + Gounsovski gave Rouletabille a piercing glance through his goggles, the + first time Rouletabille had seen such a look in his eyes. He never would + have suspected him capable of such fire.) “Priemkof,” continued Gounsovski + in a low voice, using his handkerchief vigorously, “was employed here in + my home and we separated on bad terms, through his fault, it is necessary + to say. Then he got into Koupriane’s confidence by saying the worst he + could of us, my dear little monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “But what could he say?—servants’ stories! my dear little monsieur,” + repeated the fat dame, and rolled her great magnificent black eyes + furiously. “Stories that have been treated as they deserved at Court, + certainly. Madame Daquin, the wife of His Majesty’s head-cook, whom you + certainly know, and the nephew of the second Maid of Honor to the Empress, + who stands very well with his aunt, have told us so; servants’ stories + that might have ruined us but have not produced any effect on His Majesty, + for whom we would give our lives, Christ knows. Well, you understand now + that if you were to say to Koupriane, ‘Gaspadine Gounsovski has spoken ill + to me of Priemkof,’ he would not care to hear a word further. Still, + Priemkof is in the scheme for the living bombs, that is all I can tell + you; at least, he was before the affair of the poisoning. That poisoning + is certainly very astonishing, between us. It does not appear to have come + from without, whereas the living bombs will have to come from without. And + Priemkof is mixed up in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” approved Madame Gounsovski again, “he is committed to it. + There have been stories about him, too. Other people as well as he can + tell tales; it isn’t hard to do. He has got to make some showing now if he + is to keep in with Annouchka’s clique.” + </p> + <p> + “Koupriane, our dear Koupriane,” interrupted Gounsovski, slightly troubled + at hearing his wife pronounce Annouchka’s name, “Koupriane ought to be + able to understand that this time Priemkof must bring things off, or he is + definitely ruined.” + </p> + <p> + “Priemkof knows it well enough,” replied Madame as she re-filled the + glasses, “but Koupriane doesn’t know it; that is all we can tell you. Is + it enough? All the rest is mere gossip.” + </p> + <p> + It certainly was enough for Rouletabille; he had had enough of it! This + idle gossip and these living bombs! These pinchbecks, these whispering + tale-tellers in their bourgeois, countrified setting; these + politico-police combinations whose grotesque side was always uppermost; + while the terrible side, the Siberian aspect, prisons, black holes, + hangings, disappearances, exiles and deaths and martyrdoms remained so + jealously hidden that no one ever spoke of them! All that weight of + horror, between a good cigar and “a little glass of anisette, monsieur, if + you won’t take champagne.” Still, he had to drink before he left, touch + glasses in a health, promise to come again, whenever he wished—the + house was open to him. Rouletabille knew it was open to anybody—anybody + who had a tale to tell, something that would send some other person to + prison or to death and oblivion. No guard at the entrance to check a + visitor—men entered Gounsovski’s house as the house of a friend, and + he was always ready to do you a service, certainly! + </p> + <p> + He accompanied the reporter to the stairs. Rouletabille was just about to + risk speaking of Annouchka to him, in order to approach the subject of + Natacha, when Gounsovski said suddenly, with a singular smile: + </p> + <p> + “By the way, do you still believe in Natacha Trebassof?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall believe in her until my death,” Rouletabille thrust back; “but I + admit to you that at this moment I don’t know where she has gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Watch the Bay of Lachtka, and come to tell me to-morrow if you will + believe in her always,” replied Gounsovski, confidentially, with a horrid + sort of laugh that made the reporter hurry down the stairs. + </p> + <p> + And now here was Priemkof to look after! Priemkof after Matiew! It seemed + to the young man that he had to contend against all the revolutionaries + not only, but all the Russian police as well—and Gounsovski himself, + and Koupriane! Everybody, everybody! But most urgent was Priemkof and his + living bombs. What a strange and almost incomprehensible and harassing + adventure this was between Nihilism and the Russian police. Koupriane and + Gounsovski both employed a man they knew to be a revolutionary and the + friend of revolutionaries. Nihilism, on its side, considered this man of + the police force as one of its own agents. In his turn, this man, in order + to maintain his perilous equilibrium, had to do work for both the police + and the revolutionaries, and accept whatever either gave him to do as it + came, because it was necessary he should give them assurances of his + fidelity. Only imbeciles, like Gapone, let themselves be hanged or ended + by being executed, like Azef, because of their awkward slips. But a + Priemkof, playing both branches of the police, had a good chance of living + a long time, and a Gounsovski would die tranquilly in his bed with all the + solaces of religion. + </p> + <p> + However, the young hearts hot with sincerity, sheathed with dynamite, are + mysteriously moved in the atrocious darkness of Holy Russia, and they do + not know where they will be sent, and it is all one to them, because all + they ask is to die in a mad spiritual delirium of hate and love—living + bombs!* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * In the trial after the revolt at Cronstadt two young women + were charged with wearing bombs as false bosoms. +</pre> + <p> + At the corner of Aptiekarski-Pereoulok Rouletabille came in the way of + Koupriane, who was leaving for Pere Alexis’s place and, seeing the + reporter, stopped his carriage and called that he was going immediately to + the datcha. + </p> + <p> + “You have seen Pere Alexis?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Koupriane. “And this time I have it on you. What I told you, + what I foresaw, has happened. But have you any news of the sufferers? + Apropos, rather a curious thing has happened. I met Kister on the Nevsky + just now.” + </p> + <p> + “The physician?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, one of Trebassof’s physicians whom I had sent an inspector to his + house to fetch to the datcha, as well as his usual associate, Doctor + Litchkof. Well, neither Litchkof nor he had been summoned. They didn’t + know anything had happened at the datcha. They had not seen my inspector. + I hope he has met some other doctor on the way and, in view of the + urgency, has taken him to the datcha.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what has happened,” replied Rouletabille, who had turned very + pale. “Still, it is strange these gentlemen had not been notified, because + at the datcha the Trebassofs were told that the general’s usual doctors + were not at home and so the police had summoned two others who would + arrive at once.” + </p> + <p> + Koupriane jumped up in the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “But Kister and Litchkof had not left their houses. Kister, who had just + met Litchkof, said so. What does this mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Can you tell me,” asked Rouletabille, ready now for the thunder-clap that + his question invited, “the name of the inspector you ordered to bring + them?” + </p> + <p> + “Priemkof, a man with my entire confidence.” + </p> + <p> + Koupriane’s carriage rushed toward the Isles. Late evening had come. Alone + on the deserted route the horses seemed headed for the stars; the carriage + behind seemed no drag upon them. The coachman bent above them, arms out, + as though he would spring into the ether. Ah, the beautiful night, the + lovely, peaceful night beside the Neva, marred by the wild gallop of these + maddened horses! + </p> + <p> + “Priemkof! Priemkof! One of Gounsovski’s men! I should have suspected + him,” railed Koupriane after Rouletabille’s explanations. “But now, shall + we arrive in time?” + </p> + <p> + They stood up in the carriage, urging the coachman, exciting the horses: + “Scan! Scan! Faster, douriak!” Could they arrive before the “living + bombs”? Could they hear them before they arrived? Ah, there was Eliaguine! + </p> + <p> + They rushed from the one bank to the other as though there were no bridges + in their insensate course. And their ears were strained for the explosion, + for the abomination now to come, preparing slyly in the night so + hypocritically soft under the cold glance of the stars. Suddenly, “Stop, + stop!” Rouletabille cried to the coachman. + </p> + <p> + “Are you mad!” shouted Koupriane. + </p> + <p> + “We are mad if we arrive like madmen. That would make the catastrophe + sure. There is still a chance. If we wish not to lose it, then we must + arrive easily and calmly, like friends who know the general is out of + danger.” + </p> + <p> + “Our only chance is to arrive before the bogus doctors. Either they aren’t + there, or it already is all over. Priemkof must have been surprised at the + affair of the poisoning, but he has seized the opportunity; fortunately he + couldn’t find his accomplices immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “Here is the datcha, anyway. In the name of heaven, tell your driver to + stop the horses here. If the ‘doctors’ are already there it is we who + shall have killed the general.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right.” + </p> + <p> + Koupriane moderated his excitement and that of his driver and horses, and + the carriage stopped noiselessly, not far from the datcha. Ermolai came + toward them. + </p> + <p> + “Priemkof?” faltered Koupriane. + </p> + <p> + “He has gone again, Excellency.” + </p> + <p> + “How—gone again?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but he has brought the doctors.” + </p> + <p> + Koupriane crushed Rouletabille’s wrist. The doctors were there! + </p> + <p> + “Madame Trebassof is better,” continued Ermolai, who understood nothing of + their emotion. “The general is going to meet them and take them to his + wife himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are they?” + </p> + <p> + “They are waiting in the drawing-room.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Excellency, keep cool, keep cool, and all is not lost,” implored the + reporter. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille and Koupriane slipped carefully into the garden. Ermolai + followed them. + </p> + <p> + “There?” inquired Koupriane. + </p> + <p> + “There,” Ermolai replied. + </p> + <p> + From the corner where they were, and looking through the veranda, they + could see the “doctors” as they waited. + </p> + <p> + They were seated in chairs side by side, in a corner of the drawing-room + from where they could see every-thing in the room and a part of the + garden, which they faced, and could hear everything. A window of the + first-floor was open above their heads, so that they could hear any noise + from there. They could not be surprised from any side, and they held every + door in view. They were talking softly and tranquilly, looking straight + before them. They appeared young. One had a pleasant face, pale but + smiling, with rather long, curly hair; the other was more angular, with + haughty bearing and grave face, an eagle nose and glasses. Both wore long + black coats buttoned over their calm chests. + </p> + <p> + Koupriane and the reporter, followed by Ermolai, advanced with the + greatest precaution across the lawn. Screened by the wooden steps leading + to the veranda and by the vine-clad balustrade, they got near enough to + hear them. Koupriane gave eager ear to the words of these two young men, + who might have been so rich in the many years of life that naturally + belonged to them, and who were about to die so horrible a death in + destroying all about them. They spoke of what time it was, of the softness + of the night and the beauty of the sky; they spoke of the shadows under + the birch-trees, of the gulf shining in the late evening’s fading golden + light, of the river’s freshness and the sweetness of springtime in the + North. That is what they talked about. Koupriane murmured, “The + assassins!” + </p> + <p> + Now it was necessary to decide on action, and that necessity was horrible. + A false movement, an awkwardness, and the “doctors” would be warned, and + everything lost. They must have the bombs under their coats; there were + certainly at least two “living bombs.” Their chests, as they breathed, + must heave to and fro and their hearts beat against an impending + explosion. + </p> + <p> + Above on the bedroom floor, they heard the rapid arranging of the room, + steps on the floor and a confusion of voices; shadows passed across the + window-space. Koupriane rapidly interrogated Ermolai and learned that all + the general’s friends were there. The two doctors had arrived only a + couple of minutes before the Prefect of Police and the reporter. The + little doctor of Vassili-Ostrow had already gone, saying there was nothing + more for him to do when two such celebrated specialists had arrived. + However, in spite of their celebrity, no one had ever heard the names they + gave. Koupriane believed the little doctor was an accomplice. The most + necessary thing was to warn those in the room above. There was immediate + danger that someone would come downstairs to find the doctors and take + them to the general, or that the general would come down himself to meet + them. Evidently that was what they were waiting for. They wished to die in + his arms, to make sure that this time he did not escape them! Koupriane + directed Ermolai to go into the veranda and speak in a commonplace way to + them at the threshold of the drawing-room door, saying that he would go + upstairs and see if he might now escort them to Madame Trebassof’s room. + Once in the room above, he could warn the others not to do anything but + wait for Koupriane; then Ermolai was to come down and say to the men, “In + just a moment, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + Ermolai crept back as far as the lodge, and then came quite normally up + the path, letting the gravel crunch under his countrified footsteps. He + was an intelligent man, and grasped with extraordinary coolness the + importance of the plan of campaign. Easily and naturally he mounted the + veranda steps, paused at the threshold of the drawing-room, made the + remark he had been told to make, and went upstairs. Koupriane and + Rouletabille now watched the bedroom windows. The flitting shadows there + suddenly became motionless. All moving about ceased; no more steps were + heard, nothing. And that sudden silence made the two “doctors” raise their + faces toward the ceiling. Then they exchanged an aroused glance. This + change in the manner of things above was dangerous. Koupriane muttered, + “The idiots!” It was such a blow for those upstairs to learn they walked + over a mine ready to explode that it evidently had paralyzed their limbs. + Happily Ermolai came down almost immediately and said to the “doctors” in + his very best domestic manner: + </p> + <p> + “Just a second, messieurs, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + He did it still with utter naturalness. And he returned to the ledge + before he rejoined Koupriane and Rouletabille by way of the lawn. + Rouletabille, entirely cool, quite master of himself, as calm now as + Koupriane was nervous, said to the Prefect of Police: + </p> + <p> + “We must act now, and quickly. They are commencing to be suspicious. Have + you a plan?” + </p> + <p> + “Here is all I can see,” said Koupriane. “Have the general come down by + the narrow servants’ stairway, and slip out of the house from the window + of Natacha’s sitting-room, with the aid of a twisted sheet. Matrena + Petrovna will come to speak to them during this time; that will keep them + patient until the general is out of danger. As soon as Matrena has + withdrawn into the garden, I will call my men, who will shoot them from a + distance.” + </p> + <p> + “And the house itself? And the general’s friends?” + </p> + <p> + “Let them try to get away, too, by the servants’ stairway and jump from + the window after the general. We must try something. Say that I have them + at the muzzle of my revolver.” + </p> + <p> + “Your plan won’t work,” said Rouletabille, “unless the door of Natacha’s + sitting-room that opens on the drawing-room is closed.” + </p> + <p> + “It is. I can see from here.” + </p> + <p> + “And unless the door of the little passage-way before that staircase that + opens into the drawing-room is closed also, and you cannot see it from + here.” + </p> + <p> + “That door is open,” said Ermolai. + </p> + <p> + Koupriane swore. But he recovered himself promptly. + </p> + <p> + “Madame Trebassof will close the door when she speaks to them.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s impracticable,” said the reporter. “That will arouse their + suspicions more than ever. Leave it to me; I have a plan.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “I have time to execute it, but not to tell you about it. They have + already waited too long. I shall have to go upstairs, though. Ermolai will + need to go with me, as with a friend of the family.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll go too.” + </p> + <p> + “That would give the whole show away, if they saw you, the Prefect of + Police.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no. If they see me—and they know I ought to be there—as + soon as I show myself to them they will conclude I don’t know anything + about it.” + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “It is my duty. I should be near the general to defend him until the + last.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille shrugged his shoulders before this dangerous heroism, but he + did not stop to argue. He knew that his plan must succeed at once, or in + five minutes at the latest there would be only ruins, the dead and the + dying in the datcha des Iles. + </p> + <p> + Still he remained astonishingly calm. In principle he had admitted that he + was going to die. The only hope of being saved which remained to them + rested entirely upon their keeping perfectly cool and upon the patience of + the living bombs. Would they still have three minutes’ patience? + </p> + <p> + Ermolai went ahead of Koupriane and Rouletabille. At the moment they + reached the foot of the veranda steps the servant said loudly, repeating + his lesson: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the general is waiting for you, Excellency. He told me to have you + come to him at once. He is entirely well and Madame Trebassof also.” + </p> + <p> + When they were in the veranda, he added: + </p> + <p> + “She is to see also, at once, these gentlemen, who will be able to tell + her there is no more danger.” + </p> + <p> + And all three passed while Koupriane and Rouletabille vaguely saluted the + two conspirators in the drawing-room. It was a decisive moment. + Recognizing Koupriane, the two Nihilists might well believe themselves + discovered, as the reporter had said, and precipitate the catastrophe. + However, Ermolai, Koupriane and Rouletabille climbed the stairs to the + bedroom like automatons, not daring to look behind them, and expecting the + end each instant. But neither stirred. Ermolai went down again, by + Rouletabille’s order, normally, naturally, tranquilly. They went into + Matrena Petrovna’s chamber. Everybody was there. It was a gathering of + ghosts. + </p> + <p> + Here was what had happened above. That the “doctors” still remained below, + that they had not been received instantly, in brief, that the catastrophe + had been delayed up to now was due to Matrena Petrovna, whose watchful + love, like a watch-dog, was always ready to scent danger. These two + “doctors” whose names she did not know, who arrived so late, and the + precipitate departure of the little doctor of Vassili-Ostrow aroused her + watchfulness. Before allowing them to come upstairs to the general she + resolved to have a look at them herself downstairs. She arose from her bed + for that; and now her presentiment was justified. When she saw Ermolai, + sober and mysterious, enter with Koupriane’s message, she knew + instinctively, before he spoke, that there were bombs in the house. When + Ermolai did speak it was a blow for everybody. At first she, Matrena + Perovna, had been a frightened, foolish figure in the big flowered + dressing-gown belonging to Feodor that she had wrapped about her in her + haste. When Ermolai left, the general, who knew she only trembled for him, + tried to reassure her, and, in the midst of the frightened silence of all + of them, said a few words recalling the failure of all the previous + attempts. But she shook her head and trembled, shaking with fear for him, + in agony at the thought that she could do nothing there above those living + bombs but wait for them to burst. As to the friends, already their limbs + were ruined, absolutely ruined, in very truth. For a moment they were + quite incapable of moving. The jolly Councilor of Empire, Ivan Petrovitch, + had no longer a lively tale to tell, and the abominable prospect of “this + horrible mix-up” right at hand rendered him much less gay than in his best + hours at Cubat’s place. And poor Thaddeus Tchitchnikoff was whiter than + the snow that covers old Lithuania’s fields when the winter’s chase is on. + Athanase Georgevitch himself was not brilliant, and his sanguine face had + quite changed, as though he had difficulty in digesting his last + masterpiece with knife and fork. But, in justice to them, that was the + first instantaneous effect. No one could learn like that, all of a sudden, + that they were about to die in an indiscriminate slaughter without the + heart being stopped for a little. Ermolai’s words had turned these amiable + loafers into waxen statues, but, little by little, their hearts commenced + to beat again and each suggested some way of preventing the disaster—all + of them sufficiently incoherent—while Matrena Petrovna invoked the + Virgin and at the same time helped Feodor Feodorovitch adjust his sword + and buckle his belt; for the general wished to die in uniform. + </p> + <p> + Athanase Georgevitch, his eyes sticking out of his head and his body bent + as though he feared the Nihlists just below him might perceive his tall + form—through the floor, no doubt—proposed that they should + throw themselves out of the window, even at the cost of broken legs. The + saddened Councilor of Empire declared that project simply idiotic, for as + they fell they would be absolutely at the disposal of the Nihilists, who + would be attracted by the noise and would make a handful of dust of them + with a single gesture through the window. Thaddeus Tchitchnikoff, who + couldn’t think of anything at all, blamed Koupriane and the rest of the + police for not having devised something. Why hadn’t they already got rid + of these Nihilists? After the frightened silence they had kept at first, + now they all spoke at once, in low voices, hoarse and rapid, with + shortened breath, making wild movements of the arms and head, and walked + here and there in the chamber quite without motive, but very softly on + tiptoe, going to the windows, returning, listening at the doors, peering + through the key-holes, exchanging absurd suggestions, full of the wildest + imaginings. “If we should... if... if,”—everybody speaking and + everybody making signs for the others to be quiet. “Lower! If they hear + us, we are lost.” And Koupriane, who did not come, and his police, who + themselves had brought two assassins into the house, and were not able now + to make them leave without having everybody jump! They were certainly + lost. There was nothing left but to say their prayers. They turned to the + general and Matrena Petrovna, who were wrapped in a close embrace. Feodor + had taken the poor disheveled head of the good Matrena between his hands + and pressed it upon his shoulders as he embraced her. He said, “Rest + quietly against my heart, Matrena Petrovna. Nothing can happen to us + except what God wills.” + </p> + <p> + At that sight and that remark the others grew ashamed of their confusion. + The harmony of that couple embracing in the presence of death restored + them to themselves, to their courage, and their “Nitchevo.” Athanase + Georgevitch, Ivan Petrovitch and Thaddeus Tchitchnikoff repeated after + Matrena Petrovna, “As God wills.” And then they said “Nitchevo! Nitchevo!* + We will all die with you, Feodor Feodorovitch.” And they all kissed one + another and clasped one another in their arms, their eyes dim with love + one for another, as at the end of a great banquet when they had eaten and + drunk heavily in honor of one another. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * “What does it matter!” + </pre> + <p> + “Listen. Someone is coming up the stairs,” whispered Matrena, with her + keen ear, and she slipped from the restraint of her husband. + </p> + <p> + Breathless, they all hurried to the door opening on the landing, but with + steps as light “as though they walked on eggs.” All four of them were + leaning over there close by the door, hardly daring to breathe. They heard + two men on the stairs. Were they Koupriane and Rouletabille, or were they + the others? They had revolvers in their hands and drew back a little when + the footsteps sounded near the door. Behind them Trebassof was quietly + seated in his chair. The door was opened and Koupriane and Rouletabille + perceived these death-like figures, motionless and mute. No one dared to + speak or make a movement until the door had been closed. But then: + </p> + <p> + “Well? Well? Save us! Where are they? Ah, my dear little domovoi-doukh, + save the general, for the love of the Virgin!” + </p> + <p> + “Tsst! tsst! Silence.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille, very pale, but calm, spoke: + </p> + <p> + “The plan is simple. They are between the two staircases, watching the one + and the other. I will go and find them and make them mount the one while + you descend by the other.” + </p> + <p> + “Caracho! That is simple enough. Why didn’t we think of it sooner? Because + everybody lost his head except the dear little domovoi-doukh!” + </p> + <p> + But here something happened Rouletabille had not counted on. The general + rose and said, “You have forgotten one thing, my young friend; that is + that General Trebassof will not descend by the servants’ stairway.” + </p> + <p> + His friends looked at him in stupefaction, and asked if he had gone mad. + </p> + <p> + “What is this you say, Feodor?” implored Matrena. + </p> + <p> + “I say,” insisted the general, “that I have had enough of this comedy, and + that since Monsieur Koupriane has not been able to arrest these men, and + since, on their side, they don’t seem to decide to do their duty, I shall + go myself and put them out of my house.” + </p> + <p> + He started a few steps, but had not his cane and suddenly he tottered. + Matrena Petrovna jumped to him and lifted him in her arms as though he + were a feather. + </p> + <p> + “Not by the servants’ stairway, not by the servants’ stairway,” growled + the obstinate general. + </p> + <p> + “You will go,” Matrena replied to him, “by the way I take you.” + </p> + <p> + And she carried him back into the apartment while she said quickly to + Rouletabille: + </p> + <p> + “Go, little domovoi! And God protect us!” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille disappeared at once through the door to the main staircase, + and the group attended by Koupriane, passed through the dressing-room and + the general’s chamber, Matrena Petrovna in the lead with her precious + burden. Ivan Petrovitch had his hand already on the famous bolt which + locked the door to the servants’ staircase when they all turned at the + sound of a quick step behind them. Rouletabille had returned. + </p> + <p> + “They are no longer in the drawing-room.” + </p> + <p> + “Not in the drawing-room! Where are they, then?” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille pointed to the door they were about to open. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps behind that door. Take care!” + </p> + <p> + All drew back. + </p> + <p> + “But Ermolai ought to know where they are,” exclaimed Koupriane. “Perhaps + they have gone, finding out they were discovered.” + </p> + <p> + “They have assassinated Ermolai.” + </p> + <p> + “Assassinated Ermolai!” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen his body lying in the middle of the drawing-room as I leaned + over the top of the banister. But they were not in the room, and I was + afraid you would run into them, for they may well be hidden in the + servants’ stairway.” + </p> + <p> + “Then open the window, Koupriane, and call your men to deliver us.” + </p> + <p> + “I am quite willing,” replied Koupriane coldly, “but it is the signal for + our deaths.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, why do they wait so to make us die?” muttered Feodor Feodorovitch. + “I find them very tedious about it, for myself. What are you doing, Ivan + Petrovitch?” + </p> + <p> + The spectral figure of Ivan Petrovitch, bent beside the door of the + stairway, seemed to be hearing things the others could not catch, but + which frightened them so that they fled from the general’s chamber in + disorder. Ivan Petrovitch was close on them, his eyes almost sticking from + his head, his mouth babbling: + </p> + <p> + “They are there! They are there!” + </p> + <p> + Athanase Georgevitch open a window wildly and said: + </p> + <p> + “I am going to jump.” + </p> + <p> + But Thaddeus Tchitchnikofl’ stopped him with a word. “For me, I shall not + leave Feodor Feodorovitch.” + </p> + <p> + Athanase and Ivan both felt ashamed, and trembling, but brave, they + gathered round the general and said, “We will die together, we will die + together. We have lived with Feodor Feodorovitch, and we will die with + him.” + </p> + <p> + “What are they waiting for? What are they waiting for?” grumbled the + general. + </p> + <p> + Matrena Petrovna’s teeth chattered. “They are waiting for us to go down,” + said Koupraine. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, let us do it. This thing must end,” said Feodor. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” they all said, for the situation was becoming intolerable; + “enough of this. Go on down. Go on down. God, the Virgin and Saints Peter + and Paul protect us. Let us go.” + </p> + <p> + The whole group, therefore, went to the main staircase, with the movements + of drunken men, fantastic waving of the arms, mouths speaking all + together, saying things no one but themselves understood. Rouletabille had + already hurriedly preceded them, was down the staircase, had time to throw + a glance into the drawing-room, stepped over Ermolai’s huge corpse, + entered Natacha’s sitting-room and her chamber, found all these places + deserted and bounded back into the veranda at the moment the others + commenced to descend the steps around Feodor Feodorovitch. The reporter’s + eyes searched all the dark corners and had perceived nothing suspicious + when, in the veranda, he moved a chair. A shadow detached itself from it + and glided under the staircase. Rouletabille cried to the group on the + stairs. + </p> + <p> + “They are under the staircase!” + </p> + <p> + Then Rouletabille confronted a sight that he could never forget all his + life. + </p> + <p> + At this cry, they all stopped, after an instinctive move to go back. + Feodor Feodorovitch, who was still in Matrena Petrovna’s arms, cried: + </p> + <p> + “Vive le Tsar!” + </p> + <p> + And then, those whom the reporter half expected to see flee, distracted, + one way and another, or to throw themselves madly from the height of the + steps, abandoning Feodor and Matrena, gathered themselves instead by a + spontaneous movement around the general, like a guard of honor, in battle, + around the flag. Koupriane marched ahead. And they insisted also upon + descending the terrible steps slowly, and sang the Bodje tsara Krani, the + national anthem! + </p> + <p> + With an overwhelming roar, which shocked earth and sky and the ears of + Rouletabille, the entire house seemed lifted in the air; the staircase + rose amid flame and smoke, and the group which sang the Bodje tsara Krani + disappeared in a horrible apotheosis. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV. THE MARSHES + </h2> + <p> + They ascertained the next day that there had been two explosions, almost + simultaneous, one under each staircase. The two Nihilists, when they felt + themselves discovered, and watched by Ermolai, had thrown themselves + silently on him as he turned his back in passing them, and strangled him + with a piece of twine. Then they separated each to watch one of the + staircases, reasoning that Koupriane and General Trebassof would have to + decide to descend. + </p> + <p> + The datcha des Iles was nothing now but a smoking ruin. But from the fact + that the living bombs had exploded separately the destructive effect was + diffused, and although there were numerous wounded, as in the case of the + attack on the Stolypine datcha, at least no one was killed outright; that + is, excepting the two Nihilists, of whom no trace could be found save a + few rags. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille had been hurled into the garden and he was glad enough to + escape so, a little shaken, but without a scratch. The group composed of + Feodor and his friends were strangely protected by the lightness of the + datcha’s construction. The iron staircase, which, so to speak, almost hung + to the two floors, being barely attached at top and bottom, raised under + them and then threw them off as it broke into a thousand pieces, but only + after, by its very yielding, it had protected them from the first force of + the bomb. They had risen from the ruins without mortal wounds. Koupriane + had a hand badly burned, Athanase Georgevitch had his nose and cheeks + seriously hurt, Ivan Petrovitch lost an ear; the most seriously injured + was Thaddeus Tchitchnikoff, both of whose legs were broken. + Extraordinarily enough, the first person who appeared, rising from the + midst of the wreckage, was Matrena Petrovna, still holding Feodor in her + arms. She had escaped with a few burns and the general, saved again by the + luck of the soldier whom Death does not want, was absolutely uninjured. + Feodor gave shouts of joy. They strove to quiet him, because, after all, + around him some poor wretches had been badly hurt, as well as poor + Ermolai, who lay there dead. The domestics in the basement had been more + seriously wounded and burned because the main force of the explosion had + gone downwards; which had probably saved the personages above. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille had been taken with the other victims to a neighboring + datcha; but as soon as he had shaken himself free of that terrible + nightmare he escaped from the place. He really regretted that he was not + dead. These successive waves of events had swamped him; and he accused + himself alone of all this disaster. With acutest anxiety he had inquired + about the condition of each of “his victims.” Feodor had not been wounded, + but now he was almost delirious, asking every other minute as the hours + crept on for Natacha, who had not reappeared. That unhappy girl + Rouletabille had steadily believed innocent. Was she a culprit? “Ah, if + she had only chosen to! If she had had confidence,” he cried, raising + anguished hands towards heaven, “none of all this need have happened. No + one would have attacked and no one would ever again attack the life of + Trebassof. For I was not wrong in claiming before Koupriane that the + general’s life was in my hand, and I had the right to say to him, ‘Life + for life! Give me Matiew’s and I will give you the general’s.’ And now + there has been one more fruitless attempt to kill Feodor Feodorovitch and + it is Natacha’s fault—that I swear, because she would not listen to + me. And is Natacha implicated in it? O my God” Rouletabille asked this + vain question of the Divinity, for he expected no more help in answering + it on earth. + </p> + <p> + Natacha! Innocent or guilty, where was she? What was she doing? to know + that! To know if one were right or wrong—and if one were wrong, to + disappear, to die! + </p> + <p> + Thus the unhappy Rouletabille muttered as he walked along the bank of the + Neva, not far from the ruins of the poor datcha, where the joyous friends + of Feodor Feodorovitch would have no more good dinners, never; so he + soliloquized, his head on fire. + </p> + <p> + And, all at once, he recovered trace of the young girl, that trace lost + earlier, a trace left at her moment of flight, after the poisoning and + before the explosion. And had he not in that a terrible coincidence? + Because the poison might well have been only in preparation for the final + attack, the pretext for the tragic arrival of the two false doctors. + Natacha, Natacha, the living mystery surrounded already by so many dead! + </p> + <p> + Not far from the ruins of the datcha Rouletabille soon made sure that a + group of people had been there the night before, coming from the woods + near-by, and returning to them. He was able to be sure of this because the + boundaries of the datcha had been guarded by troops and police as soon as + the explosion took place, under orders to keep back the crowd that hurried + to Eliaguine. He looked attentively at the grass, the ferns, the broken + and trampled twigs. Certainly a struggle had occurred there. He could + distinguish clearly in the soft earth of a narrow glade the prints of + Natacha’s two little boots among all the large footprints. + </p> + <p> + He continued his search with his heart heavier and heavier, he had a + presentiment that he was on the point of discovering a new misfortune. The + footprints passed steadily under the branches along the side of the Neva. + From a bush he picked a shred of white cloth, and it seemed to him a + veritable battle had taken place there. Torn branches strewed the grass. + He went on. Very close to the bank he saw by examination of the soil, + where there was no more trace of tiny heels and little soles, that the + woman who had been found there was carried, and carried, into a boat, of + which the place of fastening to the bank was still visible. + </p> + <p> + “They have carried off Natacha,” he cried in a surge of anguish. “bungler + that I am, that is my fault too—all my fault—all my fault! + They wished to avenge Michael Nikolaievitch’s death, for which they hold + Natacha responsible, and they have kidnapped her.” + </p> + <p> + His eyes searched the great arm of the river for a boat. The river was + deserted. Not a sail, nothing visible on the dead waters! “What shall I + do? What shall I do? I must save her.” + </p> + <p> + He resumed his course along the river. Who could give him any useful + information? He drew near a little shelter occupied by a guard. The guard + was speaking to an officer. Perhaps he had noticed something during his + watch that evening along the river. That branch of the river was almost + always deserted after the day was over. A boat plying between these shores + in the twilight would certainly attract attention. Rouletabille showed the + guard the paper Koupriane had given him in the beginning, and with the + officer (who turned out to be a police officer) as interpreter, he asked + his questions. As a matter of fact the guard had been sufficiently puzzled + by the doings and comings of a light boat which, after disappearing for an + instant, around the bend of the river, had suddenly rowed swiftly out + again and accosted a sailing-yacht which appeared at the opening of the + gulf. It was one of those small but rapid and elegant sailing craft such + as are seen in the Lachtka regattas. + </p> + <p> + Lachtka! “The Bay of Lachtka!” + </p> + <p> + The word was a ray of light for the reporter, who recalled now the counsel + Gounsovski had given him. “Watch the Bay of Lachtka, and tell me then if + you still believe Natacha is innocent!” Gounsovski must have known when he + said this that Natacha had embarked in company with the Nihilists, but + evidently he was ignorant that she had gone with them under compulsion, as + their prisoner. + </p> + <p> + Was it too late to save Natacha? In any case, before he died, he would try + in every way possible, so as at least to have kept her as much as he could + from the disaster for which he held himself responsible. He ran to the + Barque, near the Point. + </p> + <p> + His voice was firm as he hailed the canoe of the floating restaurant + where, thanks to him, Koupriane had been thwarted in impotent anger. He + had himself taken to just below Staria-Derevnia and jumped out at the spot + where he saw little Katharina disappear a few days before. He landed in + the mud and climbed on hands and knees up the slope of a roadway which + followed the bank. This bank led to the Bay of Lachtka, not far from the + frontier of Finland. + </p> + <p> + On Rouletabille’s left lay the sea, the immense gulf with slight waves; to + his right was the decaying stretch of the marsh. Stagnant water stretching + to the horizon, coarse grass and reeds, an extraordinary tangle of + water-plants, small ponds whose greenish scum did not stir under the stiff + breeze, water that was heavy and dirty. Along this narrow strip of land + thrust thus between the marsh, the sky and the sea, he hurried, with many + stumblings, his eyes fixed on the deserted gulf. Suddenly he turned his + head at a singular noise. At first he didn’t see anything, but heard in + the distance a vague clamoring while a sort of vapor commenced to rise + from the marsh. And then he noticed, nearer him, the high marsh grasses + undulating. Finally he saw a countless flock rising from the bed of the + marshes. Beasts, groups of beasts, whose horns one saw like bayonets, + jostled each other trying to keep to the firm land. Many of them swam and + on the backs of some were naked men, stark naked, with hair falling to + their shoulders and streaming behind them like manes. They shouted + war-cries and waved their clubs. Rouletabille stopped short before this + prehistoric invasion. He would never have imagined that a few miles from + the Nevsky Prospect he could have found himself in the midst of such a + spectacle. These savages had not even a loin-cloth. Where did they come + from with their herd? From what remote place in the world or in old and + gone history had they emerged? What was this new invasion? What prodigious + slaughter-house awaited these unruly herds? They made a noise like thunder + in the marsh. Here were a thousand unkempt haunches undulating in the + marsh like the ocean as a storm approaches. The stark-naked men jumped + along the route, waving their clubs, crying gutturally in a way the beasts + seemed to understand. They worked their way out from the marsh and turned + toward the city, leaving behind, to swathe the view of them a while and + then fade away, a pestilential haze that hung like an aura about the + naked, long-haired men. It was terrible and magnificent. In order not to + be shoved into the water, Rouletabille had climbed a small rock that stood + beside the route, and had waited there as though petrified himself. When + the barbarians had finally passed by he climbed down again, but the route + had become a bog of trampled filth. + </p> + <p> + Happily, he heard the noise of a primitive conveyance behind him. It was a + telega. Curiously primitive, the telega is four-wheeled, with two planks + thrown crudely across the axle-trees. Rouletabille gave the man who was + seated in it three roubles, and jumped into the planks beside him, and the + two little Finnish horses, whose manes hung clear to the mud, went like + the wind. Such crude conveyances are necessary on such crude roads, but it + requires a strong constitution to make a journey on them. Still, the + reporter felt none of the jolting, he was so intent on the sea and the + coast of Lachtka Bay. The vehicle finally reached a wooden bridge, across + a murky creek. As the day commenced to fade colorlessly, Rouletabille + jumped off onto the shore and his rustic equipage crossed to the + Sestroriesk side. It was a corner of land black and somber as his thoughts + that he surveyed now. “Watch the Bay of Lachtka!” The reporter knew that + this desolate plain, this impenetrable marsh, this sea which offered the + fugitive refuge in innumerable fords, had always been a useful retreat for + Nihilistic adventurers. A hundred legends circulated in St. Petersburg + about the mysteries of Lachtka marshes. And that gave him his last hope. + Maybe he would be able to run across some revolutionaries to whom he could + explain about Natacha, as prudently as possible; he might even see Natacha + herself. Gounsovski could not have spoken vain words to him. + </p> + <p> + Between the Lachtkrinsky marsh and the strand he perceived on the edge of + the forests which run as far as Sestroriesk a little wooden house whose + walls were painted a reddish-brown, and its roof green. It was not the + Russian isba, but the Finnish touba. However, a Russian sign announced it + to be a restaurant. The young man had to take only a few steps to enter + it. He was the only customer there. An old man, with glasses and a long + gray beard, evidently the proprietor of the establishment, stood behind + the counter, presiding over the zakouskis. Rouletabille chose some little + sandwiches which he placed on a plate. He took a bottle of pivo and made + the man understand that later, if it were possible, he would like a good + hot supper. The other made a sign that he understood and showed him into + an adjoining room which was used for diners. Rouletabille was quite ready + enough to die in the face of his failures, but he did not wish to perish + from hunger. + </p> + <p> + A table was placed beside a window looking out over the sea and over the + entrance to the bay. It could not have been better and, with his eye now + on the horizon, now on the estuary near-by, he commenced to eat with + gloomy avidity. He was inclined to feel sorry for himself, to indulge in + self-pity. “Just the same, two and two always make four,” he said to + himself; “but in my calculations perhaps I have forgotten the surd. Ah, + there was a time when I would not have overlooked anything. And even now I + haven’t overlooked anything, if Natacha is innocent!” Having literally + scoured the plate, he struck the table a great blow with his fist and + said: “She is!” + </p> + <p> + Just then the door opened. Rouletabille supposed the proprietor of the + place was entering. + </p> + <p> + It was Koupriane. + </p> + <p> + He rose, startled. He could not imagine by what mystery the Prefect of + Police had made his way there, but he rejoiced from the bottom of his + heart, for if he was trying to rescue Natacha from the hands of the + revolutionaries Koupriane would be a valuable ally. He clapped the Prefect + on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well!” he said, almost joyfully. “I certainly did not expect you + here. How is your wound?” + </p> + <p> + “Nitchevo! Not worth speaking about; it’s nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “And the general and—! Ah, that frightful night! And those two + unfortunates who—?” + </p> + <p> + “Nitchevo! Nitchevo!” + </p> + <p> + “And poor Ermolai!” + </p> + <p> + “Nitchevo! Nitchevo! It is nothing.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille looked him over. The Prefect of Police had an arm in a sling, + but he was bright and shining as a new ten-rouble piece, while he, poor + Rouletabille, was so abominably soiled and depressed. Where did he come + from? Koupriane understood his look and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I have just come from the Finland train; it is the best way.” + </p> + <p> + “But what can you have come here to do, Excellency?” + </p> + <p> + “The same thing as you.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” exclaimed Rouletabille, “do you mean to say that you have come here + to save Natacha?” + </p> + <p> + “How—to save her! I come to capture her.” + </p> + <p> + “To capture her?” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Rouletabille, I have a very fine little dungeon in Saints Peter + and Paul fortress that is all ready for her.” + </p> + <p> + “You are going to throw Natacha into a dungeon!” + </p> + <p> + “The Emperor’s order, Monsieur Rouletabille. And if you see me here in + person it is simply because His Majesty requires that the thing be done as + respectfully and discreetly as possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Natacha in prison!” cried the reporter, who saw in horror all obstacles + rising before him at one and the same time. “For what reasons, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “The reason is simple enough. Natacha Feodorovna is the last word in + wickedness and doesn’t deserve anybody’s pity. She is the accomplice of + the revolutionaries and the instigator of all the crimes against her + father.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure that you are mistaken, Excellency. But how have you been guided + to her?” + </p> + <p> + “Simply by you.” + </p> + <p> + “By me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we lost all trace of Natacha. But, as you had disappeared also, I + made up my mind that you could only be occupied in searching for her, and + that by finding you I might have the chance to lay my hands on her.” + </p> + <p> + “But I haven’t seen any of your men?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, one of them brought you here.” + </p> + <p> + “Me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you. Didn’t you climb onto a telega?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the driver.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. I had arranged to have him meet me at the Sestroriesk station. + He pointed out the place where you dropped off, and here I am.” + </p> + <p> + The reporter bent his head, red with chagrin. Decidedly the sinister idea + that he was responsible for the death of an innocent man and all the ills + which had followed out of it had paralyzed his detective talents. He + recognized it now. What was the use of struggling! If anyone had told him + that he would be played with that way sometime, he, Rouletabille! he would + have laughed heartily enough—then. But now, well, he wasn’t capable + of anything further. He was his own most cruel enemy. Not only was Natacha + in the hands of the revolutionaries through his fault, by his abominable + error, but worse yet, in the very moment when he wished to save her, he + foolishly, naively, had conducted the police to the very spot where they + should have been kept away. It was the depth of his humiliation; Koupriane + really pitied the reporter. + </p> + <p> + “Come, don’t blame yourself too much,” said he. “We would have found + Natacha without you; Gounsovski notified us that she was going to embark + in the Bay of Lachtka this evening with Priemkof.” + </p> + <p> + “Natacha with Priemkof!” exclaimed Rouletabille. “Natacha with the man who + introduced the two living bombs into her father’s house! If she is with + him, Excellency, it is because she is his prisoner, and that alone will be + sufficient to prove her innocence. I thank the Heaven that has sent you + here.” + </p> + <p> + Koupriane swallowed a glass of vodka, poured another after it, and finally + deigned to translate his thought: + </p> + <p> + “Natacha is the friend of these precious men and we will see them + disembark hand in hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Your men, then, haven’t studied the traces of the struggle that ‘these + precious men’ have had on the banks of the Neva before they carried away + Natacha?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they haven’t been hoodwinked. As a matter of fact, the struggle was + quite too visible not to have been done for appearances’ sake. What a + child you are! Can’t you see that Natacha’s presence in the datcha had + become quite too dangerous for that charming young girl after the + poisoning of her father and step-mother failed and at the moment when her + comrades were preparing to send General Trebassof a pleasant little gift + of dynamite? She arranged to get away and yet to appear kidnapped. It is + too simple.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille raised his head. + </p> + <p> + “There is something simpler still to imagine than the culpability of + Natacha. It is that Priemkof schemed to pour the poison into the flask of + vodka, saying to himself that if the poison didn’t succeed at least it + would make the occasion for introducing his dynamite into the house in the + pockets of the ‘doctors’ that they would go to find.” + </p> + <p> + Koupriane seized Rouletabille’s wrist and threw some terrible words at + him, looking into the depths of his eyes: + </p> + <p> + “It was not Priemkof who poured the poison, because there was no poison in + the flask.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille, as he heard this extraordinary declaration, rose, more + startled than he had ever been in the course of this startling campaign. + </p> + <p> + If there was no poison in the flask, the poison must have been poured + directly into the glasses by a person who was in the kiosk! Now, there + were only four persons in the kiosk: the two who were poisoned and Natacha + and himself, Rouletabille. And that kiosk was so perfectly isolated that + it was impossible for any other persons than the four who were there to + pour poison upon the table. + </p> + <p> + “But it is not possible!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “It is so possible that it is so. Pere Alexis declared that there is no + poison in the flask, and I ought to tell you that an analysis I had made + after his bears him out. There was no poison, either, in the small bottle + you took to Pere Alexis and into which you yourself had poured the + contents of Natacha’s glass and yours; no trace of poison excepting in two + of the four glasses, arsenate of soda was found only on the soiled napkins + of Trebassof and his wife and in the two glasses they drank from.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that is horrible,” muttered the stupefied reporter; “that is + horrible, for then the poisoner must be either Natacha or me.” + </p> + <p> + “I have every confidence in you,” declared Koupriane with a great laugh of + satisfaction, striking him on the shoulder. “And I arrest Natacha, and you + who love logic ought to be satisfied now.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille hadn’t a word more to say. He sat down again and let his head + fall into his hands, like one sleep has seized. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, our young girls; you don’t know them. They are terrible, terrible!” + said Koupriane, lighting a big cigar. “Much more terrible than the boys. + In good families the boys still enjoy themselves; but the girls—they + read! It goes to their heads. They are ready for anything; they know + neither father nor mother. Ah, you are a child, you cannot comprehend. Two + lovely eyes, a melancholy air, a soft, low voice, and you are captured—you + believe you have before you simply an inoffensive, good little girl. Well, + Rouletabille, here is what I will tell you for your instruction. There was + the time of the Tchipoff attack; the revolutionaries who were assigned to + kill Tchipoff were disguised as coachmen and footmen. Everything had been + carefully prepared and it would seem that no one could have discovered the + bombs in the place they had been stored. Well, do you know the place where + those bombs were found? In the rooms of the governor, of Wladmir’s + daughter! Exactly, my little friend, just there! The rooms of the + governor’s daughter, Mademoiselle Alexeieiv. Ah, these young girls! + Besides, it was this same Mademoiselle Alexeieiv who, so prettily, pierced + the brain of an honest Swiss merchant who had the misfortune to resemble + one of our ministers. If we had hanged that charming young girl earlier, + my dear Monsieur Rouletabille, that last catastrophe might have been + avoided. A good rope around the neck of all these little females—it + is the only way, the only way!” + </p> + <p> + A man entered. Rouletabille recognized the driver of the telega. There + were some rapid words between the Chief and the agent. The man closed the + shutters of the room, but through the interstices they would be able to + see what went on outside. Then the agent left; Koupriane, as he pushed + aside the table that was near the window, said to the reporter: + </p> + <p> + “You had better come to the window; my man has just told me the boat is + drawing near. You can watch an interesting sight. We are sure that Natacha + is still aboard. The yacht, after the explosion at the datcha, took up two + men who put off to it in a canoe, and since then it has simply sailed back + and forth in the gulf. We have taken our precautions in Finland the same + as here and it is here they are going to try to disembark. Keep an eye on + them.” + </p> + <p> + Koupriane was at his post of observation. Evening slowly fell. The sky was + growing grayish-black, a tint that blended with the slate-colored sea. To + those on the bank, the sound of the men about to die came softly across + the water. There was a sail far out. Between the strand and the touba + where Koupriane watched, was a ridge, a window, which, however, did not + hide the shore or the bay from the prefect of police, because at the + height where he was his glance passed at an angle above it. But from the + sea this ridge entirely hid anyone who lay in ambush behind it. The + reporter watched fifty moujiks flat on their stomachs crawling up the + ridge, behind two of their number whose heads alone topped the ridge. In + the line of gaze taken by those two heads was the white sail, looming much + larger now. The yacht was heeled in the water and glided with real + elegance, heading straight on. Suddenly, just when they supposed she was + coming straight to shore, the sails fell and a canoe was dropped over the + side. Four men got into it; then a woman jumped lightly down a little + gangway into the canoe. It was Natacha. Koupriane had no difficulty in + recognizing her through the gathering darkness. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear Monsieur Rouletabille,” said he, “see your prisoner of the + Nihilists. Notice how she is bound. Her thongs certainly are causing her + great pain. These revolutionaries surely are brutes!” + </p> + <p> + The truth was that Natacha had gone quite readily to the rudder and while + the others rowed she steered the light boat to the place on the beach that + had been pointed out to her. Soon the prow of the canoe touched the sands. + There did not seem to be a soul about, and that was the conclusion the men + in the canoe who stood up looking around, seemed to reach. They jumped + out, and then it was Natacha’s turn. She accepted the hand held out to + her, talking pleasantly with the men all the time. She even turned to + press the hand of one of them. The group came up across the beach. All + this time the watchers in the little eating-house could see the false + moujiks, who had wriggled on their stomachs to the very edge of the ridge, + holding themselves ready to spring. + </p> + <p> + Behind his shutter, Koupriane could not restrain an exclamation of + triumph; he gradually identified some of the figures in the group, and + muttered: + </p> + <p> + “Eh! eh! There is Priemkof himself and the others. Gounsovski is right and + he certainly is well-informed; his system is decidedly a good one. What a + net-full!” + </p> + <p> + He hardly breathed as he watched the outcome. He could discern elsewhere, + beside the bay, flat on the ground, concealed by the slightest elevation + of the soil, other false moujiks. The wood of Sestroriesk was watched in + the same way. The group of revolutionaries who strolled behind Natacha + stopped to confer. In three—maybe two—minutes, they would be + surrounded—cut off, taken in the trap. Suddenly a gunshot sounded in + the night, and the group, with startled speed, turned in their tracks and + made silently for the sea, while from all directions poured the concealed + agents and threw themselves into the pursuit, jostling each other and + crying after the fugitives. But the cries became cries of rage, for the + group of revolutionaries gained the beach. They saw Natacha, who was held + up by Priemkof himself, reject the aid of the Nihilist, who did not wish + to abandon her, in order that he might save himself. She made him go and + seeing that she was going to be taken, stopped short and waited for the + enemy stoically, with folded arms. Meanwhile, her three companions + succeeded in throwing themselves into the canoe and plied the oars hard + while Koupriane’s men, in the water up to their chests, discharged their + revolvers at the fugitives. The men in the canoe, fearing to wound + Natacha, made no reply to the firing. The yacht had sails up by the time + they drew alongside, and made off like a bird toward the mysterious fords + of Finland, audaciously hoisting the black flag of the Revolution. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, Koupriane’s agents, trembling before his anger, gathered at the + eating-house. The Prefect of Police let his fury loose on them and treated + them like the most infamous of animals. The capture of Natacha was little + comfort. He had planned for the whole bag, and his men’s stupidity took + away all his self-control. If he had had a whip at hand he would have + found prompt solace for his mined hopes. Natacha, standing in a corner, + with her face singularly calm, watched this extraordinary scene that was + like a menagerie in which the tamer himself had become a wild beast. From + another corner, Rouletabille kept his eyes fixed on Natacha who ignored + him. Ah, that girl, sphinx to them all! Even to him who thought a while + ago that he could read things invisible to other vulgar men in her + features, in her eyes! The impassive face of that girl whose father they + had tried to assassinate only a few hours before and who had just pressed + the hand of Priemkof, the assassin! Once she turned her head slightly + toward Rouletabille. The reporter then looked towards her with increased + eagerness, his eyes burning, as though he would say: “Surely, Natacha, you + are not the accomplice of your father’s assassins; surely it was not you + who poured the poison!” + </p> + <p> + But Natacha’s glance passed the reporter coldly over. Ah, that mysterious, + cold mask, the mouth with its bitter, impudent smile, an atrocious smile + which seemed to say to the reporter: “If it is not I who poured the + poison, then it is you!” + </p> + <p> + It was the visage common enough to the daughters whom Koupriane had spoken + of a little while before, “the young girls who read” and, their reading + done, set themselves to accomplish some terrible thing, some thing because + of which, from time to time, they place stiff ropes around the necks of + these young females. + </p> + <p> + Finally, Koupriane’s frenzy wore itself out and he made a sign. The men + filed out in dismal silence. Two of them remained to guard Natacha. From + outside came the sounds of a carriage from Sestroriesk ready to convey the + girl to the Dungeons of Sts. Peter and Paul. A final gesture from the + Prefect of Police and the rough bands of the two guards seized the + prisoner’s frail wrists. They hustled her along, thrust her outside, + jamming her against the doorway, venting thus their anger at the + reproaches of their chief. A few seconds later the carriage departed, not + to stop until the fortress was reached with the trickling tombs under the + bed of the river where young girls about to die are confined—who + have read too much, without entirely understanding, as Monsieur Kropotkine + says. + </p> + <p> + Koupriane prepared to leave in turn. Rouletabille stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “Excellency, I wish you to tell me why you have shown such anger to your + men just now.” + </p> + <p> + “They are brute beasts,” cried the Chief of Police, quite beside himself + again. “They have made me miss the biggest catch of my life. They threw + themselves on the group two minutes too early. Some of them fired a gun + that they took for the signal and that served to warn the Nihilists. But I + will let them all rot in prison until I learn which one fired that shot.” + </p> + <p> + “You needn’t look far for that,” said Rouletabille. “I did it.” + </p> + <p> + “You! Then you must have gone outside the touba?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, in order to warn them. But still I was a little late, since you did + take Natacha.” + </p> + <p> + Koupriane’s eyes blazed. + </p> + <p> + “You are their accomplice in all this,” he hurled at the reporter, “and I + am going to the Tsar for permission to arrest you.” + </p> + <p> + “Hurry, then, Excellency,” replied the reporter coldly, “because the + Nihilists, who also think they have a little account to settle with me, + may reach me before you.” + </p> + <p> + And he saluted. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV. “I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU” + </h2> + <p> + At the hotel a note from Gounsovski: “Don’t forget this time to come + to-morrow to have luncheon with me. Warmest regards from Madame + Gounsovski.” Then a horrible, sleepless night, shaken with echoes of + explosions and the clamor of the wounded; and the solemn shade of Pere + Alexis, stretching out toward Rouletabille a phial of poison and saying, + “Either Natacha or you!” Then, rising among the shades the bloody form of + Michael Nikolaievitch the Innocent! + </p> + <p> + In the morning a note from the Marshal of the Court. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur le Marechal had no particular good news, evidently, for in terms + quite without enthusiasm he invited the young man to luncheon for that + same day, rather early, at midday, as he wished to see him once more + before he left for France. “I see,” said Rouletabille to himself; + “Monsieur le Marechal pronounces my expulsion from the country”—and + he forgot once more the Gounsovski luncheon. The meeting-place named was + the great restaurant called the Bear. Rouletabille entered it promptly at + noon. He asked the schwitzar if the Grand Marshal of the Court had + arrived, and was told no one had seen him yet. They conducted him to the + huge main hall, where, however, there was only one person. This man, + standing before the table spread with zakouskis, was stuffing himself. At + the sound of Rouletabille’s step on the floor this sole famished patron + turned and lifted his hands to heaven as he recognized the reporter. The + latter would have given all the roubles in his pocket to have avoided the + recognition. But he was already face to face with the advocate so + celebrated for his table-feats, the amiable Athanase Georgevitch, his head + swathed in bandages and dressings from the midst of which one could + perceive distinctly only the eyes and, above all, the mouth. + </p> + <p> + “How goes it, little friend?” + </p> + <p> + “How are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I! There is nothing the matter. In a week we shall have forgotten + it.” + </p> + <p> + “What a terrible affair,” said the reporter, “I certainly believed we were + all dead men.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. It was nothing. Nitchevo!” + </p> + <p> + “And poor Thaddeus Tchitchnikoff with his two poor legs broken!” + </p> + <p> + “Eh! Nitchevo! He has plenty of good solid splints that will make him two + good legs again. Nitchevo! Don’t you think anything more about that! It is + nothing. You have come here to dine? A very celebrated house this. + Caracho!” He busied himself to do the honors. One would have said the + restaurant belonged to him. He boasted of its architecture and the cuisine + “a la Francaise.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know,” he inquired confidently, “a finer restaurant room anywhere + in the world?” + </p> + <p> + In fact, it seemed to Rouletabille as he looked up into the high glass + arch that he was in a railway station decorated for some illustrious + traveler, for there were flowers and plants everywhere. But the visitor + whom the ball awaited was the Russian eater, the ogre who never failed to + come to eat at The Bear. Pointing out the lines of tables shining with + their white cloths and bright silver, Athanase Georgevitch, with his mouth + full, said: + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear little French monsieur, you should see it at supper-time, + with the women, and the jewels, and the music. There is nothing in France + that can give you any idea of it, nothing! The gayety—the champagne—and + the jewels, monsieur, worth millions and millions of roubles! Our women + wear them all—everything they have. They are decked like sacred + shrines! All the family jewels—from the very bottom of the caskets! + it is magnificent, thoroughly Russian—Muscovite! What am I saying? + It is Asiatic. Monsieur, in the evening, at a fete, we are Asiatic. Let me + tell you something on the quiet. You notice that this enormous dining hall + is surrounded by those windowed balconies. Each of those windows belongs + to a separate private room. Well, you see that window there?—yes, + there—that is the room of a grand duke—yes, he’s the one I + mean—a very gay grand duke. Do you know, one evening when there was + a great crowd here—families, monsieur, family parties, high-born + families—the window of that particular balcony was thrown open, and + a woman stark naked, as naked as my hand, monsieur, was dropped into the + dining-hall and ran across it full-speed. It was a wager, monsieur, a + wager of the jolly grand duke’s, and the demoiselle won it. But what a + scandal! Ah, don’t speak of it; that would be very bad form. But—sufficiently + Asiatic, eh? Truly Asiatic. And—something much more unfortunate—you + see that table? It happened the Russian New Year Eve, at supper. All the + beauty, the whole capital, was here. Just at midnight the orchestra struck + up the Bodje tsara krani* to inaugurate the joyful Russian New Year, and + everybody stood up, according to custom, and listened in silence, as loyal + subjects should. Well, at that table, accompanying his family, there was a + young student, a fine fellow, very correct, and in uniform. This unhappy + young student, who had risen like everybody else, to listen to the Bodje + tsara krani, inadvertently placed his knee on a chair. Truly that is not a + correct attitude, monsieur, but really it was no reason for killing him, + was it now? Certainly not. Well, a brute in uniform, an officer quite + immaculately gotten-up, drew a revolver from his pocket and discharged it + at the student point-blank. You can imagine the scandal, for the student + was dead! There were Paris journalists there, besides, who had never been + there before, you see! Monsieur Gaston Leroux was at that very table. What + a scandal! They had a regular battle. They broke carafes over the head of + the assassin—for he was neither more nor less than an assassin, a + drinker of blood—an Asiatic. They picked up the assassin, who was + bleeding all over, and carried him off to look after him. As to the dead + man, he lay stretched out there under a table-cloth, waiting for the + police—and those at the tables went on with their drinking. Isn’t + that Asiatic enough for you? Here, a naked woman; there, a corpse! And the + jewels—and the champagne! What do you say to that?” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * The Russian national anthem. +</pre> + <p> + “His Excellency the Grand Marshal of the Court is waiting for you, + Monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille shook hands with Athanase Georgevitch, who returned to his + zakouskis, and followed the interpreter to the door of one of the private + rooms. The high dignitary was there. With a charm in his politeness of + which the high-born Russian possesses the secret over almost everybody + else in the world, the Marshal intimated to Rouletabille that he had + incurred imperial displeasure. + </p> + <p> + “You have been denounced by Koupriane, who holds you responsible for the + checks he has suffered in this affair.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Koupriane is right,” replied Rouletabille, “and His Majesty + should believe him, since it is the truth. But don’t fear anything from + me, Monsieur le Grand Marechal, for I shall not inconvenience Monsieur + Koupriane any further, nor anybody else. I shall disappear.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe Koupriane is already directed to vise your passport.” + </p> + <p> + “He is very good, and he does himself much harm.” + </p> + <p> + “All that is a little your fault, Monsieur Rouletabille. We believed we + could consider you as a friend, and you have never failed, it appears, on + each occasion to give your help to our enemies. + </p> + <p> + “Who says that?” + </p> + <p> + “Koupriane. Oh, it is necessary to be one with us. And you are not one + with us. And if you are not for us you are against us. You understand + that, I think. That is the way it has to be. The Terrorists have returned + to the methods of the Nihilists, who succeeded altogether too well against + Alexander II. When I tell you that they succeeded in placing their + messages even in the imperial palace...” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” said Rouletabille, vaguely, as though he were already far + removed from the contingencies of this world. “I know that Czar Alexander + II sometimes found under his napkin a letter announcing his condemnation + to death.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, at the Chateau yesterday morning something happened that is + perhaps more alarming than the letter found by Alexander II under his + napkin.” + </p> + <p> + “What can it be? Have bombs been discovered?” + </p> + <p> + “No. It is a bizarre occurrence and almost unbelievable. The eider downs, + all the eider down coverings belonging to the imperial family disappeared + yesterday morning.” * + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Historically authentic. +</pre> + <p> + “Surely not!” + </p> + <p> + “It is just as I say. And it was impossible to learn what had become of + them—until yesterday evening, when they were found again in their + proper places in the chambers. That is the new mystery!” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. But how were they taken out?” + </p> + <p> + “Shall we ever know? All we found was two feathers, this morning, in the + boudoir of the Empress, which leads us to think that the eider downs were + taken out that way. I am taking the two feathers to Koupriane.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see them,” asked the reporter. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille looked them over and handed them back. + </p> + <p> + “And what do you think the whole affair means?” + </p> + <p> + “We are inclined to regard it as a threat by the revolutionaries. If they + can carry away the eider downs, it would be quite as easy for them to + carry away...” + </p> + <p> + “The Imperial family? No, I don’t think it is that.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I? Nothing any more. Not only do I not think any more, but I don’t wish + to. Tell me, Monsieur le Grand Marechal, it is useless, I suppose, to try + to see His Majesty before I go?” + </p> + <p> + “What good would it do, monsieur? We know everything now. This Natacha + that you defended against Koupriane is proved the culprit. The last affair + does not leave that in any reasonable doubt. And she is taken care of from + this time on. His Majesty wishes never to hear Natacha spoken of again + under any pretext.” + </p> + <p> + “And what are you going to do with that young girl?” + </p> + <p> + “The Tsar has decided that there shall not be any trial and that the + daughter of General Trebassof shall be sent, by administrative order, to + Siberia. The Tsar, monsieur, is very good, for he might have had her + hanged. She deserved it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, the Tsar is very good.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very absorbed, Monsieur Rouletabille, and you are not eating.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no appetite, Monsieur le Marechal. Tell me,—the Emperor must + be rather bored at Tsarskoie-Coelo?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he has plenty of work. He rises at seven o’clock and has a light + English luncheon—tea and toast. At eight o’clock he starts and works + till ten. From ten to eleven he promenades.” + </p> + <p> + “In the jail-yard?” asked Rouletabille innocently. + </p> + <p> + “What’s that you say? Ah, you are an enfant terrible! Certainly we do well + to send you away. Until eleven he promenades in a pathway of the park. + From eleven to one he holds audience; luncheon at one; then he spends the + time until half-past two with his family.” + </p> + <p> + “What does he eat?” + </p> + <p> + “Soup. His Majesty is wonderfully fond of soup. He takes it at every meal. + After luncheon he smokes, but never a cigar—always cigarettes, gifts + of the Sultan; and he only drinks one liqueur, Maraschino. At half-past + two he goes out again for a little air—always in his park; then he + sets himself to work until eight o’clock. It is simply frightful work, + with heaps of useless papers and numberless signatures. No secretary can + spare him that ungrateful bureaucratic duty. He must sign, sign, sign, and + read, read, read the reports. And it is work without any beginning or end; + as soon as some reports go, others arrive. At eight o’clock, dinner, and + then more signatures, working right up to eleven o’clock. At eleven + o’clock he goes to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “And he sleeps to the rhythmical tramp of the guards on patrol,” added + Rouletabille, bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “O young man, young man!” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, Monsieur le Grand Marechal,” said the reporter, rising; “I am, + indeed, a disturbing spirit and I know that I have nothing more to do in + this country. You will not see me any more, Monsieur le Grand Marechal; + but before leaving I ought to tell you how much I have been touched by the + hospitality of your great nation. That hospitality is sometimes a little + dangerous, but it is always magnificent. No other nation in the world + knows like the Russians how to receive a man, Your Excellency. I speak as + I feel; and that isn’t affected by my manner of quitting you, for you know + also how to put a man to the door. Adieu, then; without any rancor. My + most respectful homage to His Majesty. Ah, just one word more! You will + recall that Natacha Feodorovna was engaged to poor Boris Mourazoff, still + another young man who has disappeared and who, before disappearing, + charged me to deliver to General Trebassof’s daughter this last token—these + two little ikons. I entrust you with this mission, Monsieur le Grand + Marechal. Your servant, Excellency.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille re-descended the great Kaniouche. “Now,” said he to himself, + “it is my turn to buy farewell presents.” And he made his way slowly + across la Place des Grandes-Ecuries and the bridge of the Katharine canal. + He entered Aptiekarski-Pereoulok and pushed open Pere Alexis’s door, under + the arch, at the back of the obscure court. + </p> + <p> + “Health and prosperity, Alexis Hutch!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you again, little man! Well? Koupriane has let you know the result of + my analyses?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. Tell me, Alexis Hutch, you are sure you are not mistaken? You + don’t think you might be mistaken? Think carefully before you answer. It + is a question of life or death.” + </p> + <p> + “For whom?” + </p> + <p> + “For me.” + </p> + <p> + “For you, good little friend! You want to make your old Pere Alexis laugh—or + weep!” + </p> + <p> + “Answer me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I couldn’t be mistaken. The thing is as certain as that we two are + here—arsenate of soda in the stains on the two napkins and traces of + arsenate of soda in two of the four glasses; none in the carafe, none in + the little bottle, none in the two glasses. I say it before you and before + God.” + </p> + <p> + “So it is really true. Thank you, Alexis Hutch. Koupriane has not tried to + deceive me. There has been nothing of that sort. Well, do you know, Alexis + Hutch, who has poured the poison? It is she or I. And as it is not I, it + is she. And since it is she, well, I am going to die!” + </p> + <p> + “You love her, then?” inquired Pere Alexis. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Rouletabille, with a self-mocking smile. “No, I don’t love + her. But if it is she who poured the poison, then it was not Michael + Nikolaievitch, and it is I who had Michael Nikolaievitch killed. You can + see now that therefore I must die. Show me your finest images. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my little one, if you will permit your old Alexis to make you a gift, + I would offer you these two poor ikons that are certainly from the convent + of Troitza at its best period. See how beautiful they are, and old. Have + you ever seen so beautiful a Mother of God? And this St. Luke, would you + believe that the hand had been mended, eh? Two little masterpieces, little + friend! If the old masters of Salonika returned to the world they would be + satisfied with their pupils at Troitza. But you mustn’t kill yourself at + your age!” + </p> + <p> + “Come, bat ouclzka (little father), I accept your gift, and, if I meet the + old Salonican masters on the road I am going to travel, I shan’t fail to + tell them there is no person here below who appreciates them like a + certain pere of Aptiekarski-Pereoulok, Alexis Hutch.” + </p> + <p> + So saying Rouletabille wrapped up the two little ikons and put them in his + pocket. The Saint Luke would be sure to appeal to his friend Sainclair. As + to the Mother of God, that would be his dying gift to the Dame en noir. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you are sad, little son; and your voice, as it sounds now, hurts me.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille turned his head at the sound of two moujiks who entered, + carrying a long basket. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” demanded Pere Alexis in Russian, “and what is that you + are bringing in? Do you intend to fill that huge basket with my goods? In + that case you are very welcome and I am your humble servant.” + </p> + <p> + But the two chuckled. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, we have come to rid your shop of a wretched piece of goods that + litters it.” + </p> + <p> + “What is this you say?” inquired the old man, anxiously, and drawing near + Rouletabille. “Little friend, watch these men; I don’t recognize their + faces and I can’t understand why they have come here.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille looked at the new-comers, who drew near the counter, after + depositing their long basket close to the door. There was a sarcastic and + malicious mocking way about them that struck him from the first. But while + they kept up their jabbering with Pere Alexis he filled his pipe and + proceeded to light it. Just then the door was pushed open again and three + men entered, simply dressed, like respectable small merchants. They also + acted curiously and looked all around the shop. Pere Alexis grew more and + more alarmed and the others pulled rudely at his beard. + </p> + <p> + “I believe these men here have come to rob me,” he cried in French. “What + do you say, my son?—Shall I call the police?” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on,” replied Rouletabille impassively. “They are all armed; they + have revolvers in their pockets.” + </p> + <p> + Pere Alexis’s teeth commenced to chatter. As he tried to get near the door + he was roughly pushed back and a final personage entered, apparently a + gentleman, and dressed as such, save that he wore a visored leather cap. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said he at once in French, “why, it is the young French journalist + of the Grand-Morskaia Hotel. Salutations and your good health! I see with + pleasure that you also appreciate the counsels of our dear Pere Alexis.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t listen to him, little friend; I don’t know him,” cried Alexis + Hutch. + </p> + <p> + But the gentleman of the Neva went on: + </p> + <p> + “He is a man close to the first principles of science, and therefore not + far from divine; he is a holy man, whom it is good to consult at moments + when the future appears difficult. He knows how to read as no one else can—Father + John of Cronstadt excepted, to be strictly accurate—on the sheets of + bull-hide where the dark angels have traced mysterious signs of destiny.” + </p> + <p> + Here the gentleman picked up an old pair of boots, which he threw on the + counter in the midst of the ikons. + </p> + <p> + “Pere Alexis, perhaps these are not bull-hide, but good enough cow-hide. + Don’t you want to read on this cow-hide the future of this young man?” + </p> + <p> + But here Rouletabille advanced to the gentleman, and blew an enormous + cloud of smoke full in his face. + </p> + <p> + “It is useless, monsieur,” said Rouletabille, “to waste your time and your + breath. I have been waiting for you.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI. BEFORE THE REVOLUTIONARY TRIBUNAL + </h2> + <p> + Only, Rouletabille refused to be put into the basket. He would not let + them disarm him until they promised to call a carriage. The Vehicle rolled + into the court, and while Pere Alexis was kept back in his shop at the + point of a revolver, Rouletabille quietly got in, smoking his pipe. The + man who appeared to be the chief of the band (the gentleman of the Neva) + got in too and sat down beside him. The carriage windows were shuttered, + preventing all communication with the outside, and only a tiny lantern + lighted the interior. They started. The carriage was driven by two men in + brown coats trimmed with false astrakhan. The dvornicks saluted, believing + it a police affair. The concierge made the sign of the cross. + </p> + <p> + The journey lasted several hours without other incidents than those + brought about by the tremendous jolts, which threw the two passengers + inside one on top of the other. This might have made an opening for + conversation; and the “gentleman of the Neva” tried it; but in vain. + Rouletabille would not respond. At one moment, indeed, the gentleman, who + was growing bored, became so pressing that the reporter finally said in + the curt tone he always used when he was irritated: + </p> + <p> + “I pray you, monsieur, let me smoke my pipe in peace.” + </p> + <p> + Upon which the gentleman prudently occupied himself in lowering one of the + windows, for it grew stifling. + </p> + <p> + Finally, after much jolting, there was a stop while the horses were + changed and the gentleman asked Rouletabille to let himself be + blindfolded. “The moment has come; they are going to hang me without any + form of trial,” thought the reporter, and when, blinded with the bandage, + he felt himself lifted under the arms, there was revolt of his whole + being, that being which, now that it was on the point of dying, did not + wish to cease. Rouletabille would have believed himself stronger, more + courageous, more stoical at least. But blind instinct swept all of this + away, that instinct of conservation which had no concern with the minor + bravadoes of the reporter, no concern with the fine heroic manner, of the + determined pose to die finely, because the instinct of conservation, which + is, as its rigid name indicates, essentially materialistic, demands only, + thinks of nothing but, to live. And it was that instinct which made + Rouletabille’s last pipe die out unpuffed. + </p> + <p> + The young man was furious with himself, and he grew pale with the fear + that he might not succeed in mastering this emotion, he took fierce hold + of himself and his members, which had stiffened at the contact of seizure + by rough hands, relaxed, and he allowed himself to be led. Truly, he was + disgusted with his faintness and weakness. He had seen men die who knew + they were going to die. His task as reporter had led him more than once to + the foot of the guillotine. And the wretches he had seen there had died + bravely. Extraordinarily enough, the most criminal had ordinarily met + death most bravely. Of course, they had had leisure to prepare themselves, + thinking a long time in advance of that supreme moment. But they affronted + death, came to it almost negligently, found strength even to say banal or + taunting things to those around them. He recalled above all a boy of + eighteen years old who had cowardly murdered an old woman and two children + in a back-country farm, and had walked to his death without a tremor, + talking reassuringly to the priest and the police official, who walked + almost sick with horror on either side of him. Could he, then, not be as + brave as that child? + </p> + <p> + They made him mount some steps and he felt that he had entered the stuffy + atmosphere of a closed room. Then someone removed the bandage. He was in a + room of sinister aspect and in the midst of a rather large company. + </p> + <p> + Within these naked, neglected walls there were about thirty young men, + some of them apparently quite as young as Rouletabille, with candid blue + eyes and pale complexions. The others, older men, were of the physical + type of Christs, not the animated Christs of Occidental painters, but + those that are seen on the panels of the Byzantine school or fastened on + the ikons, sculptures of silver or gold. Their long hair, deeply parted in + the middle, fell upon their shoulders in curl-tipped golden masses. Some + leant against the wall, erect, and motionless. Others were seated on the + floor, their legs crossed. Most of them were in winter coats, bought in + the bazaars. But there were also men from the country, with their skins of + beasts, their sayons, their touloupes. One of them had his legs laced + about with cords and was shod with twined willow twigs. The contrast + afforded by various ones of these grave and attentive figures showed that + representatives from the entire revolutionary party were present. At the + back of the room, behind a table, three young men were seated, and the + oldest of them was not more than twenty-five and had the benign beauty of + Jesus on feast-days, canopied by consecrated palms. + </p> + <p> + In the center of the room a small table stood, quite bare and without any + apparent purpose. + </p> + <p> + On the right was another table with paper, pens and ink-stands. It was + there that Rouletabille was conducted and asked to be seated. Then he saw + that another man was at his side, who was required to keep standing. His + face was pale and desperate, very drawn. His eyes burned somberly, in + spite of the panic that deformed his features Rouletabille recognized one + of the unintroduced friends whom Gounsovski had brought with him to the + supper at Krestowsky. Evidently since then the always-threatening + misfortune had fallen upon him. They were proceeding with his trial. The + one who seemed to preside over these strange sessions pronounced a name: + </p> + <p> + “Annouchka!” + </p> + <p> + A door opened, and Annouchka appeared. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille hardly recognized her, she was so strangely dressed, like the + Russian poor, with her under-jacket of red-flannel and the handkerchief + which, knotted under her chin, covered all her beautiful hair. + </p> + <p> + She immediately testified in Russian against the man, who protested until + they compelled him to be silent. She drew from her pocket papers which + were read aloud, and which appeared to crush the accused. He fell back + onto his seat. He shivered. He hid his head in his hands, and Rouletabille + saw the hands tremble. The man kept that position while the other + witnesses were heard, their testimony arousing murmurs of indignation that + were quickly checked. Annouchka had gone to take her place with the others + against the wall, in the shadows which more and more invaded the room, at + this ending of a lugubrious day. Two windows reaching to the floor let a + wan light creep with difficulty through their dirty panes, making a vague + twilight in the room. Soon nothing could be seen of the motionless figures + against the wall, much as the faces fade in the frescoes from which the + centuries have effaced the colors in the depths of orthodox convents. + </p> + <p> + Now someone from the depths of the shadow and the appalling silence read + something; the verdict, doubtless. + </p> + <p> + The voice ceased. + </p> + <p> + Then some of the figures detached themselves from the wall and advanced. + </p> + <p> + The man who crouched near Rouletabille rose in a savage bound and cried + out rapidly, wild words, supplicating words, menacing words. + </p> + <p> + And then—nothing more but strangling gasps. The figures that had + moved out from the wall had clutched his throat. + </p> + <p> + The reporter said, “It is cowardly.” + </p> + <p> + Annouchka’s voice, low, from the depths of shadow, replied, “It is just.” + </p> + <p> + But Rouletabille was satisfied with having said that, for he had proved to + himself that he could still speak. His emotion had been such, since they + had pushed him into the center of this sinister and expeditious + revolutionary assembly of justice, that he thought of nothing but the + terror of not being able to speak to them, to say something to them, no + matter what, which would prove to them that he had no fear. Well, that was + over. He had not failed to say, “That is cowardly.” + </p> + <p> + And he crossed his arms. But he soon had to turn away his head in order + not to see the use the table was put to that stood in the center of the + room, where it had seemed to serve no purpose. + </p> + <p> + They had lifted the man, still struggling, up onto the little table. They + placed a rope about his neck. Then one of the “judges,” one of the blond + young men, who seemed no older than Rouletabille, climbed on the table and + slipped the other end of the rope through a great ring-bolt that projected + from a beam of the ceiling. During this time the man struggled futilely, + and his death-rattle rose at last though the continued noise of his + resistance and its overcoming. But his last breath came with so violent a + shake of the body that the whole death-apparatus, rope and ring-bolt, + separated from the ceiling, and rolled to the ground with the dead man. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille uttered a cry of horror. “You are assassins!” he cried. But + was the man surely dead? It was this that the pale figures with the yellow + hair set themselves to make sure of. He was. Then they brought two sacks + and the dead man was slipped into one of them. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille said to them: + </p> + <p> + “You are braver when you kill by an explosion, you know.” + </p> + <p> + He regretted bitterly that he had not died the night before in the + explosion. He did not feel very brave. He talked to them bravely enough, + but he trembled as his time approached. That death horrified him. He tried + to keep from looking at the other sack. He took the two ikons, of Saint + Luke and of the Virgin, from his pocket and prayed to them. He thought of + the Lady in Black and wept. + </p> + <p> + A voice in the shadows said: + </p> + <p> + “He is crying, the poor little fellow.” + </p> + <p> + It was Annouchka’s voice. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille dried his tears and said: + </p> + <p> + “Messieurs, one of you must have a mother.” + </p> + <p> + But all the voices cried: + </p> + <p> + “No, no, we have mothers no more!” + </p> + <p> + “They have killed them,” cried some. “They have sent them to Siberia,” + cried others. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I have a mother still,” said the poor lad. “I will not have the + opportunity to embrace her. It is a mother that I lost the day of my birth + and that I have found again, but—I suppose it is to be said—on + the day of my death. I shall not see her again. I have a friend; I shall + not see him again either. I have two little ikons here for them, and I am + going to write a letter to each of them, if you will permit it. Swear to + me that you will see these reach them.” + </p> + <p> + “I swear it,” said, in French, the voice of Annouchka. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, madame, you are kind. And now, messieurs, that is all I ask of + you. I know I am here to reply to very grave accusations. Permit me to say + to you at once that I admit them all to be well founded. Consequently, + there need be no discussion between us. I have deserved death and I accept + it. So permit me not to concern myself with what will be going on here. I + ask of you simply, as a last favor, not to hasten your preparations too + much, so that I may be able to finish my letters.” + </p> + <p> + Upon which, satisfied with himself this time, he sat down again and + commenced to write rapidly. They left him in peace, as he desired. He did + not raise his head once, even at the moment when a murmur louder than + usual showed that the hearers regarded Rouletabille’s crimes with especial + detestation. He had the happiness of having entirely completed his + correspondence when they asked him to rise to hear judgment pronounced + upon him. The supreme communion that he had just had with his friend + Sainclair and with the dear Lady in Black restored all his spirit to him. + He listened respectfully to the sentence which condemned him to death, + though he was busy sliding his tongue along the gummed edge of his + envelope. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +These were the counts on which he was to be hanged: + + 1. Because he had come to Russia and mixed in affairs that did not + concern his nationality, and had done this in spite of warning + to remain in France. + + 2. Because he had not kept the promises of neutrality he freely + made to a representative of the Central Revolutionary Committee. + + 3. For trying to penetrate the mystery of the Trebassof datcha. + + 4. For having Comrade Matiew whipped and imprisoned by Koupriane. + + 5. For having denounced to Koupriane the identity of the two + “doctors” who had been assigned to kill General Trebassof. + + 6. For having caused the arrest of Natacha Feodorovna. +</pre> + <p> + It was a list longer than was needed for his doom. Rouletabille kissed his + ikons and handed them to Annouchka along with the letters. Then he + declared, with his lips trembling slightly, and a cold sweat on his + forehead, that he was ready to submit to his fate. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII. THE LAST CRAVAT + </h2> + <p> + The gentleman of the Neva said to him: “If you have nothing further to + say, we will go into the courtyard.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille understood at last that hanging him in the room where + judgment had been pronounced was rendered impossible by the violence of + the prisoner just executed. Not only the rope and the ring-bolt had been + torn away, but part of the beam had splintered. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing more,” replied Rouletabille. + </p> + <p> + He was mistaken. Something occurred to him, an idea flashed so suddenly + that he became white as his shirt, and had to lean on the arm of the + gentleman of the Neva in order to accompany him. + </p> + <p> + The door was open. All the men who had voted his death filed out in gloomy + silence. The gentleman of the Neva, who seemed charged with the last + offices for the prisoner, pushed him gently out into the court. + </p> + <p> + It was vast, and surrounded by a high board wall; some small buildings, + with closed doors, stood to right and left. A high chimney, partially + demolished, rose from one corner. Rouletabille decided the whole place was + part of some old abandoned mill. Above his head the sky was pale as a + winding sheet. A thunderous, intermittent, rhythmical noise appraised him + that he could not be far from the sea. + </p> + <p> + He had plenty of time to note all these things, for they had stopped the + march to execution a moment and had made him sit down in the open + courtyard on an old box. A few steps away from him under the shed where he + certainly was going to be hanged, a man got upon a stool (the stool that + would serve Rouletabille a few moments later) with his arm raised, and + drove with a few blows of a mallet a great ring-bolt into a beam above his + head. + </p> + <p> + The reporter’s eyes, which had not lost their habit of taking everything + in, rested again on a coarse canvas sack that lay on the ground. The young + man felt a slight tremor, for he saw quickly that the sack swathed a human + form. He turned his head away, but only to confront another empty sack + that was intended for him. Then he closed his eyes. The sound of music + came from somewhere outside, notes of the balalaika. He said to himself, + “Well, we certainly are in Finland”; for he knew that, if the guzla is + Russian the balalaika certainly is Finnish. It is a kind of accordeon that + the peasants pick plaintively in the doorways of their toubas. He had seen + and heard them the afternoon that he went to Pergalovo, and also a little + further away, on the Viborg line. He pictured to himself the ruined + structure where he now found himself shut in with the revolutionary + tribunal, as it must appear from the outside to passers-by; unsinister, + like many others near it, sheltering under its decaying roof a few homes + of humble workers, resting now as they played the balalaika at their + thresholds, with the day’s labor over. + </p> + <p> + And suddenly from the ineffable peace of his last evening, while the + balalaika mourned and the man overhead tested the solidity of his + ring-bolt, a voice outside, the grave, deep voice of Annouchka, sang for + the little Frenchman: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “For whom weave we now the crown + Of lilac, rose and thyme? + When my hand falls lingering down + Who then will bring your crown + Of lilac, rose and thyme? + + O that someone among you would hear, + And come, and my lonely hand + Would press, and shed the friendly tear— + For alone at the end I stand. + + Who now will bring the crown + Of lilac, rose and thyme?” + </pre> + <p> + Rouletabille listened to the voice dying away with the last sob of the + balalaika. “It is too sad,” he said, rising. “Let us go,” and he wavered a + little. + </p> + <p> + They came to search him. All was ready above. They pushed him gently + towards the shed. When he was under the ring-bolt, near the stool, they + made him turn round and they read him something in Russian, doubtless less + for him than for those there who did not understand French. Rouletabille + had hard work to hold himself erect. + </p> + <p> + The gentleman of the Neva said to him further: + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, we now read you the final formula. It asks you to say whether, + before you die, you have anything you wish to add to what we know + concerning the sentence which has been passed upon you.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille thought that his saliva, which at that moment he had the + greatest difficulty in swallowing, would not permit him to utter a word. + But disdain of such a weakness, when he recalled the coolness of so many + illustrious condemned people in their last moments, brought him the last + strength needed to maintain his reputation. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said he, “this sentence is not wrongly drawn up. I blame it only + for being too short. Why has there been no mention of the crime I + committed in contriving the tragic death of poor Michael Korsakoff?” + </p> + <p> + “Michael Korsakoff was a wretch,” pronounced the vindictive voice of the + young man who had presided at the trial and who, at this supreme moment, + happened to be face to face with Rouletabille. “Koupriane’s police, by + killing that man, ridded us of a traitor.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille uttered a cry, a cry of joy, and while he had some reason for + believing that at the point he had reached now of his too-short career + only misfortune could befall him, yet here Providence, in his infinite + grace, sent him before he died this ineffable consolation: the certainty + that he had not been mistaken. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon, pardon,” he murmured, in an excess of joy which stifled him + almost as much as the wretched rope would shortly do that they were + getting ready behind him. “Pardon. One second yet, one little second. + Then, messieurs, then, we are agreed in that, are we? This Michael, + Michael Nikolaievitch was the the last of traitors.” + </p> + <p> + “The first,” said the heavy voice. + </p> + <p> + “It is the same thing, my dear monsieur. A traitor, a wretched traitor,” + continued Rouletabille. + </p> + <p> + “A poisoner,” replied the voice. + </p> + <p> + “A vulgar poisoner! Is that not so? But, tell me how—a vulgar + poisoner who, under cover of Nihilism, worked for his own petty ends, + worked for himself and betrayed you all!” + </p> + <p> + Now Rouletabille’s voice rose like a fanfare. Someone said: + </p> + <p> + “He did not deceive us long; our enemies themselves undertook his + punishment.” + </p> + <p> + “It was I,” cried Rouletabille, radiant again. “It was I who wound up that + career. I tell you that was managed right. It was I who rid you of him. + Ah, I knew well enough, messieurs, in the bottom of my heart I knew that I + could not be mistaken. Two and two make four always, don’t they? And + Rouletabille is always Rouletabille. Messieurs, it is all right, after + all.” + </p> + <p> + But it was probable that it was also all wrong, for the gentleman of the + Neva came up to him hat in hand and said: + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, you know now why the witnesses at your trial did not raise a + fact against you that, on the contrary, was entirely in your favor. Now it + only remains for us to execute the sentence which is entirely justified on + other grounds.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but—wait a little. What the devil! Now that I am sure I have + not been mistaken and that I have been myself, Rouletabille, all the time + I cling to life a little—oh, very much!” + </p> + <p> + A hostile murmur showed the condemned man that the patience of his judges + was getting near its limit. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” interposed the president, “we know that you do not belong to + the orthodox religion; nevertheless, we will bring a priest if you wish + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, that is it, go for the priest,” cried Rouletabille. + </p> + <p> + And he said to himself, “It is so much time gained.” + </p> + <p> + One of the revolutionaries started over to a little cabin that had been + transformed into a chapel, while the rest of them looked at the reporter + with a good deal less sympathy than they had been showing. If his bravado + had impressed them agreeably in the trial room, they were beginning to be + rather disgusted by his cries, his protestations and all the maneuvers by + which he so apparently was trying to hold off the hour of his death. + </p> + <p> + But all at once Rouletabille jumped up onto the fatal stool. They believed + he had decided finally to make an end of the comedy and die with dignity; + but he had mounted there only to give them a discourse. + </p> + <p> + “Messieurs, understand me now. If it is true that you are not suppressing + me in order to avenge Michael Nikolaievitch, then why do you hang me? Why + do you inflict this odious punishment on me? Because you accuse me of + causing Natacha Feodorovna’s arrest? Truly I have been awkward. Of that, + and that alone, I accuse myself.” + </p> + <p> + “It was you, with your revolver, who gave the signal to Koupriane’s + agents! You have done the dirty work for the police.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille tried vainly to protest, to explain, to say that his revolver + shot, on the contrary, had saved the revolutionaries. But no one cared to + listen and no one believed him. + </p> + <p> + “Here is the priest, monsieur,” said the gentleman of the Neva. + </p> + <p> + “One second! These are my last words, and I swear to you that after this I + will pass the rope about my neck myself! But listen to me! Listen to me + closely! Natacha Feodorovna was the most precious recruit you had, was she + not?” + </p> + <p> + “A veritable treasure,” declared the president, his voice more and more + impatient. + </p> + <p> + “It was a terrible blow, then,” continued the reporter, “a terrible blow + for you, this arrest?” + </p> + <p> + “Terrible,” some of them ejaculated. + </p> + <p> + “Do not interrupt me! Very well, then, I am going to say this to you: ‘If + I ward off this blow—if, after having been the unintentional cause + of Natacha’s arrest, I have the daughter of General Trebassof set at + liberty, and that within twenty-four hours,—what do you say? Would + you still hang me?’” + </p> + <p> + The president, he who had the Christ-like countenance, said: + </p> + <p> + “Messieurs, Natacha Feodorovna has fallen the victim of terrible + machinations whose mystery we so far have not been able to penetrate. She + is accused of trying to poison her father and her step-mother, and under + such conditions that it seems impossible for human reason to demonstrate + the contrary. Natacha Feodorovna herself, crushed by the tragic + occurrence, was not able to answer her accusers at all, and her silence + has been taken for a confession of guilt. Messieurs, Natacha Feodorovna + will be started for Siberia to-morrow. We can do nothing for her. Natacha + Feodorovna is lost to us.” + </p> + <p> + Then, with a gesture to those who surrounded Rouletabille: + </p> + <p> + “Do your duty, messieurs.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon, pardon. But if I do prove the innocence of Natacha? Just wait, + messieurs. There is only I who can prove that innocence! You lose Natacha + by killing me!” + </p> + <p> + “If you had been able to prove that innocence, monsieur, the thing would + already be done. You would not have waited.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon, pardon. It is only at this moment that I have become able to do + it.” + </p> + <p> + “How is that?” + </p> + <p> + “It is because I was sick, you see—very seriously sick. That affair + of Michael Nikolaievitch and the poison that still continued after he was + dead simply robbed me of all my powers. Now that I am sure I have not been + the means of killing an innocent man—I am Rouletabille again! It is + not possible that I shall not find the way, that I shall not see through + this mystery.” + </p> + <p> + The terrible voice of the Christ-like figure said monotonously: + </p> + <p> + “Do your duty, messieurs.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon, pardon. This is of great importance to you—and the proof is + that you have not yet hanged me. You were not so procrastinating with my + predecessor, were you? You have listened to me because you have hoped! + Very well, let me think, let me consider. Oh, the devil! I was there + myself at the fatal luncheon, and I know better than anyone else all that + happened there. Five minutes! I demand five minutes of you; it is not + much. Five little minutes!” + </p> + <p> + These last words of the condemned man seemed to singularly influence the + revolutionaries. They looked at one another in silence. + </p> + <p> + Then the president took out his watch and said: + </p> + <p> + “Five minutes. We grant them to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Put your watch here. Here on this nail. It is five minutes to seven, eh? + You will give me until the hour?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, until the hour. The watch itself will strike when the hour has + come.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, it strikes! Like the general’s watch, then. Very well, here we are.” + </p> + <p> + Then there was the curious spectacle of Rouletabille standing on the + hangman’s stool, the fatal rope hanging above his head, his legs crossed, + his elbow on his knees in that eternal attitude which Art has always given + to human thought, his fists under his jaws, his eyes fixed—all + around him, all those young men intent on his silence, not moving a + muscle, turned into statues themselves that they might not disturb the + statue which thought and thought. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII. A SINGULAR EXPERIENCE + </h2> + <p> + The five minutes ticked away and the watch commenced to strike the hour’s + seven strokes. Did it sound the death of Rouletabille? Perhaps not! For at + the first silver tinkle they saw Rouletabille shake himself, and raise his + head, with his face alight and his eyes shining. They saw him stand up, + spread out his arms and cry: + </p> + <p> + “I have found it!” + </p> + <p> + Such joy shone in his countenance that there seemed to be an aureole + around him, and none of those there doubted that he had the solution of + the impossible problem. + </p> + <p> + “I have found it! I have found it!” + </p> + <p> + They gathered around him. He waved them away as in a waking dream. + </p> + <p> + “Give me room. I have found it, if my experiment works out. One, two, + three, four, five...” + </p> + <p> + What was he doing? He counted his steps now, in long paces, as in dueling + preliminaries. And the others, all of them, followed him in silence, + puzzled, but without protest, as if they, too, were caught in the same + strange day-dream. Steadily counting his steps he crossed thus the court, + which was vast. “Forty, forty-one, forty-two,” he cried excitedly. “This + is certainly strange, and very promising.” + </p> + <p> + The others, although they did not understand, refrained from questioning + him, for they saw there was nothing to do but let him go ahead without + interruption, just as care is taken not to wake a somnambulist abruptly. + They had no mistrust of his motives, for the idea was simply untenable + that Rouletabille was fool enough to hope to save himself from them by an + imbecile subterfuge. No, they yielded to the impression his inspired + countenance gave them, and several were so affected that they + unconsciously repeated his gestures. Thus Rouletabille reached the edge of + the court where judgment had been pronounced against him. There he had to + mount a rickety flight of stairs, whose steps he counted. He reached a + corridor, but moving away from the side where the door was opening to the + exterior he turned toward a staircase leading to the upper floor, and + still counted the steps as he climbed them. Some of the company followed + him, others hurried ahead of him. But he did not seem aware of either the + one or the other, as he walked along living only in his thoughts. He + reached the landing-place, hesitated, pushed open a door, and found + himself in a room furnished with a table, two chairs, a mattress and a + huge cupboard. He went to the cupboard, turned the key and opened it. The + cupboard was empty. He closed it again and put the key in his pocket. Then + he went out onto the landing-place again. There he asked for the key of + the chamber-door he had just left. They gave it to him and he locked that + door and put that key also in his pocket. Now he returned into the court. + He asked for a chair. It was brought him. Immediately he placed his head + in his hands, thinking hard, took the chair and carried it over a little + behind the shed. The Nihilists watched everything he did and they did not + smile, because men do not smile when death waits at the end of things, + however foolish. + </p> + <p> + Finally, Rouletabille spoke: + </p> + <p> + “Messieurs,” said he, his voice low and shaken, because he knew that now + he touched the decisive minute, after which there could only be an + irrevocable fate. “Messieurs, in order to continue my experiment I am + obliged to go through movements that might suggest to you the idea of an + attempt at escape, or evasion. I hope you don’t regard me as fool enough + to have any such thought.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, monsieur,” said the chief, “you are free to go through all the + maneuvers you wish. No one escapes us. Outside we should have you within + arm’s reach quite as well as here. And, besides, it is entirely impossible + to escape from here.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Then that is understood. In such a case, I ask you now to + remain just where you are and not to budge, whatever I do, if you don’t + wish to inconvenience me. Only please send someone now up to the next + floor, where I am going to go again, and let him watch what happens from + there, but without interfering. And don’t speak a word to me during the + experiment.” + </p> + <p> + Two of the revolutionaries went to the upper floor, and opened a window in + order to keep track of what went on in the court. All now showed their + intense interest in the acts and gestures of Rouletabille. + </p> + <p> + The reporter placed himself in the shed, between his death-stool and his + hanging-rope. + </p> + <p> + “Ready,” said he; “I am going to begin” + </p> + <p> + And suddenly he jumped like a wild man, crossed the court in a straight + line like a flash, disappeared in the touba, bounded up the staircase, + felt in his pocket and drew out the keys, opened the door of the chamber + he had locked, closed it and locked it again, turned right-about-face, + came down again in the same haste, reached the court, and this time + swerved to the chair, went round it, still running, and returned at the + same speed to the shed. He no sooner reached there than he uttered a cry + of triumph as he glanced at the watch banging from a post. “I have won,” + he said, and threw himself with a happy thrill upon the fatal scaffold. + They surrounded him, and he read the liveliest curiosity in all their + faces. Panting still from his mad rush, he asked for two words apart with + the chief of the Secret committee. + </p> + <p> + The man who had pronounced judgment and who had the bearing of Jesus + advanced, and there was a brief exchange of words between the two young + men. The others drew back and waited at a distance, in impressive silence, + the outcome of this mysterious colloquy, which certainly would settle + Rouletabille’s fate. + </p> + <p> + “Messieurs,” said the chief, “the young Frenchman is going to be allowed + to leave. We give him twenty-four hours to set Natacha Feodorovna free. In + twenty-four hours, if he has not succeeded, he will return here to give + himself up.” + </p> + <p> + A happy murmur greeted these words. The moment their chief spoke thus, + they felt sure of Natacha’s fate. + </p> + <p> + The chief added: + </p> + <p> + “As the liberation of Natacha Feodorovna will be followed, the young + Frenchman says, by that of our companion Matiew, we decide that, if these + two conditions are fulfilled, M. Joseph Rouletabille is allowed to return + in entire security to France, which he ought never to have left.” + </p> + <p> + Two or three only of the group said, “That lad is playing with us; it is + not possible.” + </p> + <p> + But the chief declared: + </p> + <p> + “Let the lad try. He accomplishes miracles.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIX. THE TSAR + </h2> + <p> + “I have escaped by remarkable luck,” cried Rouletabille, as he found + himself, in the middle of the night, at the corner of the Katharine and + the Aptiekarski Pereoulok Canals, while the mysterious carriage which had + brought him there returned rapidly toward the Grande Ecurie. “What a + country! What a country!” + </p> + <p> + He ran a little way to the Grand Morskaia, which was near, entered the + hotel like a bomb, dragged the interpreter from his bed, demanded that his + bill be made out and that he be told the time of the next train for + Tsarskoie-Coelo. The interpreter told him that he could not have his bill + at such an hour, that he could not leave town without his passport and + that there was no train for Tsarskoie-Coelo, and Rouletabille made an + outcry that woke the whole hotel. The guests, fearing always “une + scandale,” kept close to their rooms. But Monsieur le directeur came down, + trembling. When he found all that it was about he was inclined to be + peremptory, but Rouletabille, who had seen “Michael Strogoff” played, + cried, “Service of the Tsar!” which turned him submissive as a sheep. He + made out the young man’s bill and gave him his passport, which had been + brought back by the police during the afternoon. Rouletabille rapidly + wrote a message to Koupriane’s address, which the messenger was directed + to have delivered without a moment’s delay, under the pain of death! The + manager humbly promised and the reporter did not explain that by “pain of + death” he referred to his own. Then, having ascertained that as a matter + of fact the last train had left for Tsarskoie-Coelo, he ordered a carriage + and hurried to his room to pack. + </p> + <p> + And he, ordinarily so detailed, so particular in his affairs, threw things + every which way, linen, garments, with kicks and shoves. It was a relief + after the emotions he had gone through. “What a country!” he never ceased + to ejaculate. “What a country!” + </p> + <p> + Then the carriage was ready, with two little Finnish horses, whose gait he + knew well, an evil-looking driver, who none the less would get him there; + the trunk; roubles to the domestics. “Spacibo, barine. Spacibo.” (Thank + you, monsieur. Thank you.) + </p> + <p> + The interpreter asked what address he should give the driver. + </p> + <p> + “The home of the Tsar.” + </p> + <p> + The interpreter hesitated, believing it to be an unbecoming pleasantry, + then waved vaguely to the driver, and the horses started. + </p> + <p> + “What a curious trot! We have no idea of that in France,” thought + Rouletabille. “France! France! Paris! Is it possible that soon I shall be + back! And that dear Lady in Black! Ah, at the first opportunity I must + send her a dispatch of my return—before she receives those ikons, + and the letters announcing my death. Scan! Scan! Scan! (Hurry!)” + </p> + <p> + The isvotchick pounded his horses, crowding past the dvornicks who watched + at the corners of the houses during the St. Petersburg night. “Dirigi! + dirigi! dirigi! (Look out!)” + </p> + <p> + The country, somber in the somber night. The vast open country. What + monotonous desolation! Rapidly, through the vast silent spaces, the little + car glided over the lonely route into the black arms of the pines. + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille, holding on to his seat, looked about him. + </p> + <p> + “God! this is as sad as a funeral display.” + </p> + <p> + Little frozen huts, no larger than tombs, occasionally indicated the road, + but there was no mark of life in that country except the noise of the + journey and the two beasts with steaming coats. + </p> + <p> + Crack! One of the shafts broken. “What a country!” To hear Rouletabille + one would suppose that only in Russia could the shaft of a carriage break. + </p> + <p> + The repair was difficult and crude, with bits of rope. And from then on + the journey was slow and cautious after the frenzied speed. In vain + Rouletabille reasoned with himself. “You will arrive anyway before + morning. You cannot wake the Emperor in the dead of night.” His impatience + knew no reason. “What a country! What a country!” + </p> + <p> + After some other petty adventures (they ran into a ravine and had + tremendous difficulty rescuing the trunk) they arrived at Tsarskoie-Coelo + at a quarter of seven. + </p> + <p> + Even here the country was not pleasant. Rouletabille recalled the bright + awakening of French country. Here it seemed there was something more dead + than death: it was this little city with its streets where no one passed, + not a soul, not a phantom, with its houses so impenetrable, the windows + even of glazed glass and further blinded by the morning hoar-frost + shutting out light more thoroughly than closed eyelids. Behind them he + pictured to himself a world unknown, a world which neither spoke nor wept, + nor laughed, a world in which no living chord resounded. “What a country! + ‘Where is the chateau? I do not know; I have been here only once, in the + marshal’s carriage. I do not know the way. Not the great palace! The idiot + of a driver has brought me to this great palace in order to see it, I + haven’t a doubt. Does Rouletabille look like a tourist? Dourak! The home + of the Tsar, I tell you. The Tsar’s residence. The place where the Little + Father lives. Chez Batouchka!” + </p> + <p> + The driver lashed his ponies. He drove past all the streets. “Stoi! + (Stop!)” cried Rouletabille. A gate, a soldier, musket at shoulder, + bayonet in play; another gate, another soldier, another bayonet; a park + with walls around it, and around the walls more soldiers. + </p> + <p> + “No mistake; here is the place,” thought Rouletabille. There was only one + prisoner for whom such pains would be taken. He advanced towards the gate. + Ah! They crossed bayonets under his nose. Halt! No fooling, Joseph + Rouletabille, of “L’Epoque.” A subaltern came from a guard-house and + advanced toward him. Explanation evidently was going to be difficult. The + young man saw that if he demanded to see the Tsar, they would think him + crazed and that would further complicate matters. He asked for the + Grand-Marshal of the Court. They replied that he could get the Marshal’s + address in Tsarskoie. But the subaltern turned his head. He saw someone + advancing. It was the Grand-Marshal himself. Some exceptional service + called him, without doubt, very early to the Court. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what are you doing here? You are not yet gone then, Monsieur + Rouletabille?” + </p> + <p> + “Politeness before everything, Monsieur le Grand-Marechal! I would not go + before saying ‘Au revoir’ to the Emperor. Be so good, since you are going + to him and he has risen (you yourself have told me he rises at seven), be + so good as to say to him that I wish to pay my respects before leaving.” + </p> + <p> + “Your scheme, doubtless, is to speak to him once more regarding Natacha + Feodorovna?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. Tell him, Excellency, that I am come to explain the mystery + of the eider downs.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ah, the eider downs! You know something?” + </p> + <p> + “I know all.” + </p> + <p> + The Grand Marshal saw that the young man did not pretend. He asked him to + wait a few minutes, and vanished into the park. + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour later, Joseph Rouletabille, of the journal + “L’Epoque,” was admitted into the cabinet that he knew well from the first + interview he had had there with His Majesty. The simple work-room of a + country-house: a few pictures on the walls, portraits of the Tsarina and + the imperial children on the table; Oriental cigarettes in the tiny gold + cups. Rouletabille was far from feeling any assurance, for the + Grand-Marshal had said to him: + </p> + <p> + “Be cautious. The Emperor is in a terrible humor about you.” + </p> + <p> + A door opened and closed. The Tsar made a sign to the Marshal, who + disappeared. Rouletabille bowed low, then watched the Emperor closely. + </p> + <p> + Quite apparently His Majesty was displeased. The face of the Tsar, + ordinarily so calm, so pleasant, and smiling, was severe, and his eyes had + an angry light. He seated himself and lighted a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” he commenced, “I am not otherwise sorry to see you before your + departure in order to say to you myself that I am not at all pleased with + you. If you were one of my subjects I would have already started you on + the road to the Ural Mountains.” + </p> + <p> + “I remove myself farther, Sire.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, I pray you not to interrupt me and not to speak unless I ask + you a question.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, pardon, Sire, pardon.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not duped by the pretext you have offered Monsieur le Grand-Marechal + in order to penetrate here.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not a pretext, Sire.” + </p> + <p> + “Again!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, pardon, Sire, pardon.” + </p> + <p> + “I say to you that, called here to aid me against my enemies, they + themselves have not found a stronger or more criminal support than in + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what am I accused, Sire?” + </p> + <p> + “Koupriane—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Ah! ... Pardon!” + </p> + <p> + “My Chief of Police justly complains that you have traversed all his + designs and that you have taken it upon yourself to ruin them. First, you + removed his agents, who inconvenienced you, it seems; then, the moment + that he had the proof in hand of the abominable alliance of Natacha + Feodorovna with the Nihilists who attempt the assassination of her father + your intervention has permitted that proof to escape him. And you have + boasted of the feat, monsieur, so that we can only consider you + responsible for the attempts that followed. + </p> + <p> + “Without you, Natacha would not have attempted to poison her father. + Without you, they would not have sent to find physicians who could blow up + the datcha des Iles. Finally, no later than yesterday, when this faithful + servant of mine had set a trap they could not have escaped from, you have + had the audacity, you, to warn them of it. They owe their escape to you. + Monsieur, those are attempts against the security of the State which + deserves the heaviest punishment. Why, you went out one day from here + promising me to save General Trebassof from all the plotting assassins who + lurked about him. And then you play the game of the assassins! Your + conduct is as miserable as that of Natacha Feodorovna is monstrous!” + </p> + <p> + The Emperor ceased, and looked at Rouletabille, who had not lowered his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What can you say for yourself? Speak—now.” + </p> + <p> + “I can only say to Your Majesty that I come to take leave of you because + my task here is finished. I have promised you the life of General + Trebassof, and I bring it to you. He runs no danger any more! I say + further to Your Majesty that there exists nowhere in the world a daughter + more devoted to her father, even to the death, a daughter more sublime + than Natacha Feodorovna, nor more innocent.” + </p> + <p> + “Be careful, monsieur. I inform you that I have studied this affair + personally and very closely. You have the proofs of these statements you + advance?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sire.” + </p> + <p> + “And I, I have the proofs that Natacha Feodorovna is a renegade.” + </p> + <p> + At this contradiction, uttered in a firm voice, the Emperor stirred, a + flush of anger and of outraged majesty in his face. But, after this first + movement, he succeeded in controlling himself, opened a drawer brusquely, + took out some papers and threw them on the table. + </p> + <p> + “Here they are.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille reached for the papers. + </p> + <p> + “You do not read Russian, monsieur. I will translate their purport for + you. Know, then, that there has been a mysterious exchange of letters + between Natacha Feodorovna and the Central Revolutionary Committee, and + that these letters show the daughter of General Trebassof to be in perfect + accord with the assassins of her father for the execution of their + abominable project.” + </p> + <p> + “The death of the general?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “I declare to Your Majesty that that is not possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Obstinate man! I will read—” + </p> + <p> + “Useless, Sire. It is impossible. There may be in them the question of a + project, but I am greatly surprised if these conspirators have been + sufficiently imprudent to write in those letters that they count on + Natacha to poison her father.” + </p> + <p> + “That, as a matter of fact, is not written, and you yourself are + responsible for it not being there. It does not follow any the less that + Natacha Feodorovna had an understanding with the Nihilists.” + </p> + <p> + “That is correct, Sire.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you confess that?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not confess; I simply affirm that Natacha had an understanding with + the Nihilists.” + </p> + <p> + “Who plotted their abominable attacks against the ex-Governor of Moscow.” + </p> + <p> + “Sire, since Natacha had an understanding with the Nihilists, it was not + to kill her father, but to save him. And the project of which you hold + here the proofs, but of whose character you are unaware, is to end the + attacks of which you speak, instantly.” + </p> + <p> + “You say that.” + </p> + <p> + “I speak the truth, Sire.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are the proofs? Show me your papers.” + </p> + <p> + “I have none. I have only my word.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not sufficient.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be sufficient, once you have heard me.” + </p> + <p> + “I listen.” + </p> + <p> + “Sire, before revealing to you a secret on which depends the life of + General Trebassof, you must permit me some questions. Your Majesty holds + the life of the general very dear?” + </p> + <p> + “What has that to do with it?” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon. I desire that Your Majesty assure me on that point.” + </p> + <p> + “The general has protected my throne. He has saved the Empire from one of + the greatest dangers that it has ever run. If the servant who has done + such a service should be rewarded by death, by the punishment that the + enemies of my people prepare for him in the darkness, I should never + forgive myself. There have been too many martyrs already!” + </p> + <p> + “You have replied to me, Sire, in such a way that you make me understand + there is no sacrifice—even to the sacrifice of your amour-propre the + greatest a ruler can suffer—no sacrifice too dear to ransom from + death one of these martyrs.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ah! These gentlemen lay down conditions to me! Money. Money. They + need money. And at how much do they rate the head of the general?” + </p> + <p> + “Sire, that does not touch Your Majesty, and I never will come to offer + you such a bargain. That matter concerns only Natacha Feodorovna, who has + offered her fortune!” + </p> + <p> + “Her fortune! But she has nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “She will have one at the death of the general. Now she engages to give it + all to the Revolutionary Committee the day the general dies—if he + dies a natural death!” + </p> + <p> + The Emperor rose, greatly agitated. + </p> + <p> + “To the Revolutionary Party! What do you tell me! The fortune of the + general! Eh, but these are great riches.” + </p> + <p> + “Sire, I have told you the secret. You alone should know it and guard it + forever, and I have your sacred word that, when the hour comes, you will + let the prize go where it is promised. If the general ever learns of such + a thing, such a treaty, he would easily arrange that nothing should + remain, and he would denounce his daughter who has saved him, and then he + would promptly be the prey of his enemies and yours, from whom you wish to + save him. I have told the secret not to the Emperor, but to the + representative of God on the Russian earth. I have confessed it to the + priest, who is bound to forget the words uttered only before God. Allow + Natacha Feodorovna her own way, Sire! And her father, your servant, whose + life is so dear to you, is saved. At the natural death of the general his + fortune will go to his daughter, who has disposed of it.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille stopped a moment to judge of the effect produced. It was not + good. The face of his august listener was more and more in a frown. + </p> + <p> + The silence continued, and now the reporter did not dare to break it. He + waited. + </p> + <p> + Finally, the Emperor rose and walked forward and backward across the room, + deep in thought. For a moment he stopped at the window and waved + paternally to the little Tsarevitch, who played in the park with the + grand-duchesses. + </p> + <p> + Then he returned to Rouletabille and pinched his ear. + </p> + <p> + “But, tell me, how have you learned all this? And who then has poisoned + the general and his wife, in the kiosk, if not Natacha?” + </p> + <p> + “Natacha is a saint. It is nothing, Sire, that she has been raised in + luxury, and vows herself to misery; but it is sublime that she guards in + her heart the secret of her sacrifice from everyone, and, in spite of all, + because secrecy is necessary and has been required of her. See her + guarding it before her father, who has been brought to believe in the + dishonor of his daughter, and still to be silent when a word would have + proved her innocent; guarding it face to face with her fiance, whom she + loves, and repulses because marriage is forbidden to the girl who is + supposed to be rich and who will be poor; guarding it, above all—and + guarding it still—in the depths of the dungeon, and ready to take + the road to Siberia under the accusation of assassination, because that + ignominy is necessary for the safety of her father. That, Sire—oh, + Sire, do you see!” + </p> + <p> + “But you, how have you been able to penetrate into this guarded secret?” + </p> + <p> + “By watching her eyes. By observing, when she believed herself alone, the + look of terror and the gleams of love. And, beyond all, by looking at her + when she was looking at her father. Ah, Sire, there were moments when on + her mystic face one could read the wild joy and devotion of the martyr. + Then, by listening and by piecing together scraps of phrases inconsistent + with the idea of treachery, but which immediately acquired meaning if one + thought of the opposite, of sacrifice. Ah, that is it, Sire! Consider + always the alternative motive. What I finally could see myself, the + others, who had a fixed opinion about Natacha, could not see. And why had + they their fixed opinion? Simply because the idea of compromise with the + Nihilists aroused at once the idea of complicity! For such people it is + always the same thing—they never can see but the one side of the + situation. But, nevertheless, the situation had two sides, as all + situations have. The question was simple. The compromise was certain. But + why had Natacha compromised herself with the Nihilists? Was it necessarily + in order to lose her father? Might it not be, on the contrary, in order to + save him? When one has rendezvous with an enemy it is not necessarily to + enter into his game, sometimes it is to disarm him with an offer. Between + these two hypotheses, which I alone took the trouble to examine, I did not + hesitate long, because Natacha’s every attitude proclaimed her innocence: + and her eyes, Sire, in which one read purity and love, prevailed always + with me against all the passing appearances of disgrace and crime. + </p> + <p> + “I saw that Natacha negotiated with them. But what had she to place in the + scales against the life of her father? Nothing—except the fortune + that she would have one day. + </p> + <p> + “Some words she spoke about the impossibility of immediate marriage, about + poverty which could always knock at the door of any mansion, remarks that + I was able to overhear between Natacha and Boris Mourazoff, which to him + meant nothing, put me definitely on the right road. And I was not long in + ascertaining that the negotiations in this formidable affair were taking + place in the very house of Trebassof! Pursued without by the incessant + spying of Koupriane, who sought to surprise her in company with the + Nihilists, watched closely, too, by the jealous supervision of Boris, who + was jealous of Michael Nikolaievitch, she had to seize the only + opportunities possible for such negotiations, at night, in her own home, + the sole place where, by the very audacity of it, she was able to play her + part in any security. + </p> + <p> + “Michael Nikolaievitch knew Annouchka. There was certainly the point of + departure for the negotiations which that felon-officer, traitor to all + sides, worked at will toward the realization of his own infamous project. + I do not think that Michael ever confided to Natacha that he was, from the + very first, the instrument of the revolutionaries. Natacha, who sought to + get in touch with the revolutionary party, had to entrust him with a + correspondence for Annouchka, following which he assumed direction of the + affair, deceiving the Nihilists, who, in their absolute penury, following + the revolt, had been seduced by the proposition of General Trebassof’s + daughter, and deceiving Natacha, whom he pretended to love and by whom he + believed himself loved. At this point in the affair Natacha came to + understand that it was necessary to propitiate Michael Nikolaievitch, her + indispensable intermediary, and she managed to do it so well that Boris + Mourazoff felt the blackest jealousy. On his side, Michael came to believe + that Natacha would have no other husband than himself, but he did not + propose to marry a penniless girl! And, fatally, it followed that Natacha, + in that infernal intrigue, negotiated for the life of her father through + the agency of a man who, underhandedly, sought to strike at the general + himself, because the immediate death of her father before the negotiation + was completed would enrich Natacha, who had given Michael so much to hope. + That frightful tragedy, Sire, in which we have lived our most painful + hours, appeared to me, confident of Natacha’s innocence, as absolutely + simple as for the others it seemed complicated. Natacha believed she had + in Michael Nikolaievitch a man who worked for her, but he worked only for + himself. The day that I was convinced of it, Sire, by my examination of + the approach to the balcony, I had a mind to warn Natacha, to go to her + and say, ‘Get rid of that man. He will betray you. If you need an agent, I + am at your service.’ But that day, at Krestowsky, destiny prevented my + rejoining Natacha; and I must attribute it to destiny, which would not + permit the loss of that man. Michael Nikolaievitch, who was a traitor, was + too much in the ‘combination,’ and if he had been rejected he would have + ruined everything. I caused him to disappear! The great misfortune then + was that Natacha, holding me responsible for the death of a man she + believed innocent, never wished to see me again, and, when she did see me, + refused to have any conversation with me because I proposed that I take + Michael’s place for her with the revolutionaries. She would have nothing + to do with me in order to protect her secret. Meantime, the Nihilists + believed they were betrayed by Natacha when they learned of the death of + Michael, and they undertook to avenge him. They seized Natacha, and bore + her off by force. The unhappy girl learned then, that same evening, of the + attack which destroyed the datcha and, happily, still spared her father. + This time she reached a definite understanding with the revolutionary + party. Her bargain was made. I offer you for proof of it only her attitude + when she was arrested, and, even in that moment, her sublime silence.” + </p> + <p> + While Rouletabille urged his view, the Emperor let him talk on and on, and + now his eyes were dim. + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible that Natacha has not been the accomplice, in all, of + Michael Nikolaievitch?” he demanded. “It was she who opened her father’s + house to him that night. If she was not his accomplice she would have + mistrusted him, she would have watched him.” + </p> + <p> + “Sire, Michael Nikolaievitch was a very clever man. He knew so well how to + play upon Natacha, and Annouchka, in whom she placed all her hope. It was + from Annouchka that she wished to hold the life of her father. It was the + word, the signature of Annouchka that she demanded before giving her own. + The evening Michael Nikolaievitch died, he was charged to bring her that + signature. I know it, myself, because, pretending drunkenness, I was able + to overhear enough of a conversation between Annouchka and a man whose + name I must conceal. Yes, that last evening, Michael Nikolaievitch, when + he entered the datcha, had the signature in his pocket, but also he + carried the weapon or the poison with which he already had attempted and + was resolved to reach the father of her whom he believed was assuredly to + be his wife.” + </p> + <p> + “You speak now of a paper, very precious, that I regret not to possess, + monsieur,” said the Tsar coldly, “because that paper alone would have + proved to me the innocence of your protegee.” + </p> + <p> + “If you have not it, Sire, you know well that it is because I have wished + you to have it. The corpse had been searched by Katharina, the little + Bohemian, and I, Sire, prevented Koupriane from finding that signature in + Katharina’s possession. In saving the secret I have saved General + Trebassof’s life, who would have preferred to die rather than accept such + an arrangement.” + </p> + <p> + The Tsar stopped Rouletabille in his enthusiastic outburst. + </p> + <p> + “All that would be very beautiful and perhaps admirable,” said he, more + and more coldly, because he had entirely recovered himself, “if Natacha + had not, herself, with her own hand, poisoned her father and her + step-mother!—always with arsenate of soda.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, some of that had been left in the house,” replied Rouletabille. “They + had not given me all of it for the analysis after the first attempt. But + Natacha is innocent of that, Sire. I swear it to you. As true as that I + have certainly escaped being hanged.” + </p> + <p> + “How, hanged?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it has not amounted to much now, Your Majesty.” + </p> + <p> + And Rouletabille recounted his sinister adventure, up to the moment of his + death, or, rather, up to the moment when he had believed he was going to + die. + </p> + <p> + The Emperor listened to the young reporter with complete stupefaction. He + murmured, “Poor lad!” then, suddenly: + </p> + <p> + “But how have you managed to escape them?” + </p> + <p> + “Sire they have given me twenty-four hours for you to set Natacha at + liberty, that is to say, that you restore her to her rights, all her + rights, and she be always the recognized heiress of Trebassof. Do you + understand me, Sire? + </p> + <p> + “I will understand you, perhaps, when you have explained to me how Natacha + has not poisoned her father and step-mother.” + </p> + <p> + “There are some things so simple, Sire, that one is able to think of them + only with a rope around one’s neck. But let us reason it out. We have here + four persons, two of whom have been poisoned and the other two with them + have not been. Now, it is certain that, of the four persons, the general + has not wished to poison himself, that his wife has not wished to poison + the general, and that, as for me, I have not wished to poison anybody. + That, if we are absolutely sure of it, leaves as the poisoner only + Natacha. That is so certain, so inevitable, that there is only one case, + one alone, where, in such conditions, Natacha would not be regarded as the + poisoner.” + </p> + <p> + “I confess that, logically, I do not see,” said the Tsar, “anything beyond + that but more and more of a tangle. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Logically, the only case would be that where no one had been poisoned, + that is to say, where no one had taken any poison.” + </p> + <p> + “But the presence of the poison has been established!” cried the Emperor. + </p> + <p> + “Still, the presence of the poison proves only its presence, not the + crime. Both poison and ipecac were found in the stomach expulsions. From + which a crime has been concluded. What state of affairs was necessary for + there to have been no crime? Simply that the poison should have appeared + in the expulsions after the ipecac. Then there would have been no + poisoning, but everyone would believe there had been. And, for that, + someone would have poured the poison into the expulsions.” + </p> + <p> + The Tsar never quitted Rouletabille’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + “That is extraordinary,” said he. “But of course it is possible. In any + case, it is still only an hypothesis. + </p> + <p> + “And so long as it could be an hypothesis that no one thought of, it could + be just that, Sire. But if I am here, it is because I have the proof that + that hypothesis corresponds to the reality. That necessary proof of + Natacha’s innocence, Your Majesty, I have found with the rope around my + neck. Ah, I tell you it was time! What has hindered us hitherto, I do not + say to realize, but even to think, of that hypothesis? Simply that we + thought the illness of the general had commenced before the absorption of + the ipecac, since Matrena Petrovna had been obliged to go for it to her + medicine-closet after his illness commenced, in order to counteract the + poison of which she also appeared to be the victim. + </p> + <p> + “But, if I acquire proof that Matrena Petrovna had the ipecac at hand + before the sickness, my hypothesis of pretense at poisoning has + irresistible force. Because, if it was not to use it before, why did she + have it with her before? And if it was not that she wished to hide the + fact that she had used it before, why did she wish to make believe that + she went to find it afterwards? + </p> + <p> + “Then, in order to show Natacha’s innocence, here is what must be proved: + that Matrena Petrovna had the ipecac on her, even when she went to look + for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Young Rouletabille, I hardly breathe,” said the Tsar. + </p> + <p> + “Breathe, Sire. The proof is here. Matrena Petrovna necessarily had the + ipecac on her, because after the sickness she had not the time for going + to find it. Do you understand, Sire? Between the moment when she fled from + the kiosk and when she returned there, she had not the actual time to go + to her medicine-closet to find the ipecac.” + </p> + <p> + “How have you been able to compute the time?” asked the Emperor. + </p> + <p> + “Sire, the Lord God directed, Who made me admire Feodor Feodorovitch’s + watch just when we went to read, and to read on the dial of that watch two + minutes to the hour, and the Lord God directed yet, Who, after the scene + of the poison, at the time Matrena returned carrying the ipecac publicly, + made the hour strike from that watch in the general’s pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Two minutes. It was impossible for Matrena to have covered that distance + in two minutes. She could only have entered the deserted datcha and left + it again instantly. She had not taken the trouble to mount to the floor + above, where, she told us and repeated when she returned, the ipecac was + in the medicine-closet. She lied! And if she lied, all is explained. + </p> + <p> + “It was the striking of a watch, Sire, with a striking apparatus and a + sound like the general’s, there in the quarters of the revolutionaries, + that roused my memory and indicated to me in a second this argument of the + time. + </p> + <p> + “I got down from my gallows-scaffold, Your Majesty, to experiment on that + time-limit. Oh, nothing and nobody could have prevented my making that + experiment before I died, to prove to myself that Rouletabille had all + along been right. I had studied the grounds around the datcha enough to be + perfectly exact about the distances. I found in the court where I was to + be hanged the same number of steps that there were from the kiosk to the + steps of the veranda, and, as the staircase of the revolutionaries had + fewer steps, I lengthened my journey a few steps by walking around a + chair. Finally, I attended to the opening and closing of the doors that + Matrena would have had to do. I had looked at a watch when I started. When + I returned, Sire, and looked at the watch again, I had taken three minutes + to cover the distance—and it is not for me to boast, but I am a + little livelier than the excellent Matrena. + </p> + <p> + “Matrena had lied. Matrena had simulated the poisoning of the general. + Matrena had coolly poured ipecac in the general’s glass while we were + illustrating with matches a curious-enough theory of the nature of the + constitution of the empire.” + </p> + <p> + “But this is abominable!” cried the Emperor, this time definitely + convinced by the intricate argument of Rouletabille. “And what end could + this imitation serve?’” + </p> + <p> + “The end of preventing the real crime! The end that she believed herself + to have attained, Sire, to have Natacha removed forever—Natacha whom + she believed capable of any crime.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is monstrous! Feodor Feodorovitch has often told me that Matrena + loved Natacha sincerely.” + </p> + <p> + “She loved her sincerely up to the day that she believed her guilty. + Matrena Petrovna was sure of Natacha’s complicity in Michael + Nikolaievitch’s attempt to poison the general. I shared her stupor, her + despair, when Feodor Feodorovitch took his daughter in his arms after that + tragic night, and embraced her. He seemed to absolve her. It was then that + Matrena resolved within herself to save the general in spite of himself, + but I remain persuaded that, if she had dared such a plan against Natacha, + it would only be because of what she believed definite proof of her + step-daughter’s infamy. These papers, Sire, that you have shown me, and + which show, if nothing more, an understanding between Natacha and the + revolutionaries, could only have been in the possession of Michael or of + Natacha. Nothing was found in Michael’s quarters. Tell me, then, that + Matrena found them in Natacha’s apartment. Then, she did not hesitate!” + </p> + <p> + “If one outlined her crime to her, do you believe she would confess it?” + asked the Emperor. + </p> + <p> + “I am so sure of it that I have had her brought here. By now Koupriane + should be here at the chateau, with Matrena Petrovna.” + </p> + <p> + “You think of everything, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + The Tsar moved to ring a bell. Rouletabille raised his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet, Sire. I ask that you permit me not to be present at the + confusion of that brave, heroic, good woman who has loved me much. But + before I go, Sire—do you promise me?” + </p> + <p> + The Emperor believed he had not heard correctly or did not grasp the + meaning. He repeated what Rouletabille had said. The young reporter + repeated it once more: + </p> + <p> + “Do you promise? No, Sire, I am not mad. I dare to ask you that. I have + confided my honor to Your Majesty. I have told you Natacha’s secret. Well, + now, before Matrena’s confession, I dare to ask you: Promise me to forget + that secret. It will not suffice merely to give Natacha back again to her + father. It is necessary to leave her course open to her—if you + really wish to save General Trebassof. What do you decide, Sire?” + </p> + <p> + “It is the first time anyone has questioned me, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well, it will be the last. But I humbly beg Your Majesty to reply.” + </p> + <p> + “That would be many millions given to the Revolution.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Sire, they are not given yet. The general is sixty-five, but he has + many years ahead of him, if you wish it. By the time he dies—a + natural death, if you wish it—your enemies will have disarmed.” + </p> + <p> + “My enemies!” murmured the Tsar in a low voice. “No, no; my enemies never + will disarm. Who, then, will be able to disarm them?” added he, + melancholily, shaking his head. + </p> + <p> + “Progress, Sire! If you wish it.” + </p> + <p> + The Tsar turned red and looked at the audacious young man, who met the + gaze of His Majesty frankly. + </p> + <p> + “It is kind of you to say that, my young friend. But you speak as a + child.” + </p> + <p> + “As a child of France to the Father of the Russian people.” + </p> + <p> + It was said in a voice so solemn and, at the same time, so naively + touching, that the Tsar started. He gazed again for some time in silence + at this boy who, this time, turned away his brimming eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Progress and pity, Sire.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the Emperor, “it is promised.” + </p> + <p> + Rouletabille was not able to restrain a joyous movement hardly in keeping. + </p> + <p> + “You can ring now, Sire.” + </p> + <p> + And the Tsar rang. + </p> + <p> + The reporter passed into a little salon, where he found the Marshal, + Koupriane and Matrena Petrovna, who was “in a state.” + </p> + <p> + She threw a suspicious glance at Rouletabille, who was not treated this + morning as the dear little domovoi-doukh. She permitted herself to be + conducted, already trembling, before the Emperor. + </p> + <p> + “What happened?” asked Koupriane agitatedly. + </p> + <p> + “It so happened, my dear Monsieur Koupriane, that I have the pardon of the + Emperor for all the crimes you have charged against me, and that I wish to + shake hands before I go, without any rancor. Monsieur Koupriane, the + Emperor will tell you himself that General Trebassof is saved, and that + his life will never be in danger any more. Do you know what follows? It + follows that you must at once set Matiew free, whom I have taken, if you + remember, under my protection. Tell him that he is going to make his way + in France. I will find him a place on condition that he forgets certain + lashes.” + </p> + <p> + “Such a promise! Such an attitude toward me!” cried Koupriane. “But I will + wait for the Emperor to tell me all these fine things. And your Natacha, + what do you do with her?” + </p> + <p> + “We release her also, monsieur. Natacha never has been the monster that + you think.” + </p> + <p> + “How can you say that? Someone at least is guilty.” + </p> + <p> + “There are two guilty. The first, Monsieur le Marechal.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried the Marshal. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Marechal, who had the imprudence to bring such dangerous + grapes to the datcha des Iles, and—and—” + </p> + <p> + “And the other?” asked Koupriane, more and more anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Listen there,” said Rouletabille, pointing toward the Emperor’s cabinet. + </p> + <p> + The sound of tears and sobs reached them. The grief and the remorse of + Matrena Petrovna passed the walls of the cabinet. Koupriane was completely + disconcerted. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the Emperor appeared. He was in a state of exaltation such as had + never been known in him. Koupriane, dismayed, drew back. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said the Tsar to him, “I require that Natacha Feodorovna be + here within the next two hours, and that she be conducted with the honors + due to her rank. Natacha is innocent, and we must make reparation to her.” + </p> + <p> + Then, turning toward Rouletabille: + </p> + <p> + “I have learned what she knows and what she owes to you—we owe to + you, my young friend.” + </p> + <p> + The Tsar said “my young friend.” Rouletabille, at this last moment before + his departure, spoke Russian? + </p> + <p> + “Then she knows nothing, Sire. That is better, Sire, because Your Majesty + and me, we must forget right from to-day that we know anything.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” said the Tsar thoughtfully. “But, my friend, what am I to + do for you?” + </p> + <p> + “Sire, one favor. Do not let me miss the train at 10:55.” + </p> + <p> + And he threw himself on his knees. + </p> + <p> + “Remain on your knees, my friend. You are ready, thus. Monsieur le + Marechal will prepare at once a brevet, which I will immediately sign. + Meantime, Monsieur le Marechal, find me, in my own closet, one of my St. + Anne’s collars.” + </p> + <p> + And it was thus that Joseph Rouletabille, of “L’Epoque,” was created + officer of St. Anne of Russia by the Emperor himself, who gave him the + accolade. + </p> + <p> + “They combine the whole course of time in this country,” thought + Rouletabille, pressing his hand to his eyes to hold back the tears. + </p> + <p> + For the train at 10:55 everybody had crowded at Tsarskoie-Coelo station. + Among those who had come from St. Petersburg to press the young reporter’s + hand when they learned of his impending departure were Ivan Petrovitch, + the jolly Councilor of the Emperor, and Athanase Georgevitch, the lively + advocate so well known for his famous exploits with knife and fork. They + had come naturally with all their bandages and dressings, which made them + look like glorious ruins. They brought the greetings of Feodor + Feodorovitch, who still had a little fever, and of Thaddeus Tchitchnikoff, + the Lithuanian, who had both legs broken. + </p> + <p> + Even after he was in his compartment Rouletabille had to drink his last + drink of champagne. When nothing remained in the bottle and everyone had + embraced and re-embraced him, as the train did not start quite yet, + Athanase Georgevitch opened a second “last” bottle. It was then that + Monsieur le Grand Marechal arrived, out of breath. They invited him to + drink, and he accepted. But he had need to speak to Rouletabille in + private, and he drew the reporter, after excuses, out into the corridor. + </p> + <p> + “It is the Emperor himself who has sent me,” said the high dignitary with + emotion. “He has sent me about the eider downs. You forgot to explain the + eider downs to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Niet!” replied Rouletabille, laughing. “That is nothing. Nitchevo! His + Majesty’s eider downs are of the finest eider, as one of the feathers that + you have shown me demonstrates. Well, open them now. They are a cheap + imitation, as the second feather proves. The return of the false eider + downs, before evening, proves then that they hoped the substitution would + pass undetected. That is all. Caracho! Collapse of the hoax. Your health! + Vive le Tsar!” + </p> + <p> + “Caracho! Caracho!” + </p> + <p> + The locomotive was puffing when a couple were seen running, a man and a + woman. It was Monsieur and Madame Gounsovski. + </p> + <p> + Gounsovski stood on the running-board. + </p> + <p> + “Madame Gounsovski has insisted upon shaking hands. You are very + congenial.” + </p> + <p> + “Compliments, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, young man, you did wrong to fail for dinner at my house + yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “I would have certainly escaped a disagreeable little journey into + Finland. I do not regret it, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + The train trembled and moved. They cried, “Vive la France! Vive la Russe!” + Athanase Georgevitch wept. Matrena Petrovna, at a window of the station, + whither she had timidly retired, waved a handkerchief to the little + domovoi-doukh, who had made her see everything in the right light, and + whom she did not dare to embrace after the terrible affair of the false + poison and the Tsar’s anger. + </p> + <p> + The reporter threw her a respectful kiss. + </p> + <p> + As he said to Gounsovski, there was nothing to be regretted. + </p> + <p> + All the same, as the train took its way toward the frontier, Rouletabille + threw himself back on the cushions, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Ouf!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s The Secret of the Night, by Gaston Leroux + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SECRET OF THE NIGHT *** + +***** This file should be named 1686-h.htm or 1686-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/8/1686/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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