XIX. THE TSAR
"I have escaped by remarkable luck," cried Rouletabille, as he foundhimself, in the middle of the night, at the corner of the Katharine andthe Aptiekarski Pereoulok Canals, while the mysterious carriage whichhad brought him there returned rapidly toward the Grande Ecurie. "What acountry! What a country!"
He ran a little way to the Grand Morskaia, which was near, entered thehotel like a bomb, dragged the interpreter from his bed, demanded thathis bill be made out and that he be told the time of the next train forTsarskoie-Coelo. The interpreter told him that he could not have hisbill at such an hour, that he could not leave town without his passportand that there was no train for Tsarskoie-Coelo, and Rouletabille madean outcry that woke the whole hotel. The guests, fearing always "unescandale," kept close to their rooms. But Monsieur le directeur camedown, trembling. When he found all that it was about he was inclined tobe peremptory, but Rouletabille, who had seen "Michael Strogoff" played,cried, "Service of the Tsar!" which turned him submissive as a sheep. Hemade out the young man's bill and gave him his passport, which had beenbrought back by the police during the afternoon. Rouletabille rapidlywrote a message to Koupriane's address, which the messenger was directedto have delivered without a moment's delay, under the pain of death! Themanager humbly promised and the reporter did not explain that by "painof death" he referred to his own. Then, having ascertained that as amatter of fact the last train had left for Tsarskoie-Coelo, he ordered acarriage and hurried to his room to pack.
And he, ordinarily so detailed, so particular in his affairs, threwthings every which way, linen, garments, with kicks and shoves. It wasa relief after the emotions he had gone through. "What a country!" henever ceased to ejaculate. "What a country!"
Then the carriage was ready, with two little Finnish horses, whose gaithe knew well, an evil-looking driver, who none the less would get himthere; the trunk; roubles to the domestics. "Spacibo, barine. Spacibo."(Thank you, monsieur. Thank you.)
The interpreter asked what address he should give the driver.
"The home of the Tsar."
The interpreter hesitated, believing it to be an unbecoming pleasantry,then waved vaguely to the driver, and the horses started.
"What a curious trot! We have no idea of that in France," thoughtRouletabille. "France! France! Paris! Is it possible that soon I shallbe back! And that dear Lady in Black! Ah, at the first opportunity Imust send her a dispatch of my return--before she receives those ikons,and the letters announcing my death. Scan! Scan! Scan! (Hurry!)"
The isvotchick pounded his horses, crowding past the dvornicks whowatched at the corners of the houses during the St. Petersburg night."Dirigi! dirigi! dirigi! (Look out!)"
The country, somber in the somber night. The vast open country. Whatmonotonous desolation! Rapidly, through the vast silent spaces, thelittle car glided over the lonely route into the black arms of thepines.
Rouletabille, holding on to his seat, looked about him.
"God! this is as sad as a funeral display."
Little frozen huts, no larger than tombs, occasionally indicated theroad, but there was no mark of life in that country except the noise ofthe journey and the two beasts with steaming coats.
Crack! One of the shafts broken. "What a country!" To hear Rouletabilleone would suppose that only in Russia could the shaft of a carriagebreak.
The repair was difficult and crude, with bits of rope. And from thenon the journey was slow and cautious after the frenzied speed. In vainRouletabille reasoned with himself. "You will arrive anyway beforemorning. You cannot wake the Emperor in the dead of night." Hisimpatience knew no reason. "What a country! What a country!"
After some other petty adventures (they ran into a ravine andhad tremendous difficulty rescuing the trunk) they arrived atTsarskoie-Coelo at a quarter of seven.
Even here the country was not pleasant. Rouletabille recalled the brightawakening of French country. Here it seemed there was something moredead than death: it was this little city with its streets where no onepassed, not a soul, not a phantom, with its houses so impenetrable,the windows even of glazed glass and further blinded by the morninghoar-frost shutting out light more thoroughly than closed eyelids.Behind them he pictured to himself a world unknown, a world whichneither spoke nor wept, nor laughed, a world in which no living chordresounded. "What a country! 'Where is the chateau? I do not know; I havebeen 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 greatpalace in order to see it, I haven't a doubt. Does Rouletabille looklike a tourist? Dourak! The home of the Tsar, I tell you. The Tsar'sresidence. The place where the Little Father lives. Chez Batouchka!"
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 parkwith walls around it, and around the walls more soldiers.
"No mistake; here is the place," thought Rouletabille. There was onlyone prisoner for whom such pains would be taken. He advanced towards thegate. Ah! They crossed bayonets under his nose. Halt! No fooling, JosephRouletabille, of "L'Epoque." A subaltern came from a guard-house andadvanced toward him. Explanation evidently was going to be difficult.The young man saw that if he demanded to see the Tsar, they would thinkhim crazed and that would further complicate matters. He asked for theGrand-Marshal of the Court. They replied that he could get the Marshal'saddress in Tsarskoie. But the subaltern turned his head. He saw someoneadvancing. It was the Grand-Marshal himself. Some exceptional servicecalled him, without doubt, very early to the Court.
"Why, what are you doing here? You are not yet gone then, MonsieurRoidetabille?"
"Politeness before everything, Monsieur le Grand-Marechal! I would notgo before saying 'Au revoir' to the Emperor. Be so good, since you aregoing to him and he has risen (you yourself have told me he rises atseven), be so good as to say to him that I wish to pay my respectsbefore leaving."
"Your scheme, doubtless, is to speak to him once more regarding NatachaFeodorovna?"
"Not at all. Tell him, Excellency, that I am come to explain the mysteryof the eider downs."
"Ah, ah, the eider downs! You know something?"
"I know all."
The Grand Marshal saw that the young man did not pretend. He asked himto wait a few minutes, and vanished into the park.
A quarter of an hour later, Joseph Rouletabille, of the journal"L'Epoque," was admitted into the cabinet that he knew well from thefirst interview he had had there with His Majesty. The simple work-roomof a country-house: a few pictures on the walls, portraits of theTsarina and the imperial children on the table; Oriental cigarettes inthe tiny gold cups. Rouletabille was far from feeling any assurance, forthe Grand-Marshal had said to him:
"Be cautious. The Emperor is in a terrible humor about you."
A door opened and closed. The Tsar made a sign to the Marshal, whodisappeared. Rouletabille bowed low, then watched the Emperor closely.
Quite apparently His Majesty was displeased. The face of the Tsar,ordinarily so calm, so pleasant, and smiling, was severe, and his eyeshad an angry light. He seated himself and lighted a cigarette.
"Monsieur," he commenced, "I am not otherwise sorry to see you beforeyour departure in order to say to you myself that I am not at allpleased with you. If you were one of my subjects I would have alreadystarted you on the road to the Ural Mountains."
"I remove myself farther, Sire."
"Monsieur, I pray you not to interrupt me and not to speak unless I askyou a question."
"Oh, pardon, Sire, pardon."
"I am not duped by the pretext you have offered Monsieur leGrand-Marechal in order to penetrate here."
"It is not a pretext, Sire."
"Again!"
"Oh, pardon, Sire, pardon."
"I say to you that, called here to aid me against my enemies, theythemselves have not found a stronger or more criminal support than i
nyou."
"Of what am I accused, Sire?"
"Koupriane--"
"Ah! Ah! ... Pardon!"
"My Chief of Police justly complains that you have traversed all hisdesigns and that you have taken it upon yourself to ruin them. First,you removed his agents, who inconvenienced you, it seems; then, themoment that he had the proof in hand of the abominable alliance ofNatacha Feodorovna with the Nihilists who attempt the assassination ofher father your intervention has permitted that proof to escape him. Andyou have boasted of the feat, monsieur, so that we can only consider youresponsible for the attempts that followed.
"Without you, Natacha would not have attempted to poison her father.Without you, they would not have sent to find physicians who could blowup the datcha des Iles. Finally, no later than yesterday, when thisfaithful servant of mine had set a trap they could not have escapedfrom, you have had the audacity, you, to warn them of it. They owe theirescape to you. Monsieur, those are attempts against the security of theState which deserves the heaviest punishment. Why, you went out one dayfrom here promising me to save General Trebassof from all the plottingassassins who lurked about him. And then you play the game of theassassins! Your conduct is as miserable as that of Natacha Feodorovna ismonstrous!"
The Emperor ceased, and looked at Rouletabille, who had not lowered hiseyes.
"What can you say for yourself? Speak--now."
"I can only say to Your Majesty that I come to take leave of you becausemy task here is finished. I have promised you the life of GeneralTrebassof, and I bring it to you. He runs no danger any more! I sayfurther to Your Majesty that there exists nowhere in the world adaughter more devoted to her father, even to the death, a daughter moresublime than Natacha Feodorovna, nor more innocent."
"Be careful, monsieur. I inform you that I have studied this affairpersonally and very closely. You have the proofs of these statements youadvance?"
"Yes, Sire."
"And I, I have the proofs that Natacha Feodorovna is a renegade."
At this contradiction, uttered in a firm voice, the Emperor stirred,a flush of anger and of outraged majesty in his face. But, after thisfirst movement, he succeeded in controlling himself, opened a drawerbrusquely, took out some papers and threw them on the table.
"Here they are."
Rouletabille reached for the papers.
"You do not read Russian, monsieur. I will translate their purport foryou. Know, then, that there has been a mysterious exchange of lettersbetween Natacha Feodorovna and the Central Revolutionary Committee,and that these letters show the daughter of General Trebassof to be inperfect accord with the assassins of her father for the execution oftheir abominable project."
"The death of the general?"
"I declare to Your Majesty that that is not possible."
"Obstinate man! I will read--"
"Useless, Sire. It is impossible. There may be in them the question ofa project, but I am greatly surprised if these conspirators have beensufficiently imprudent to write in those letters that they count onNatacha to poison her father."
"That, as a matter of fact, is not written, and you yourself areresponsible for it not being there. It does not follow any the less thatNatacha Feodorovna had an understanding with the Nihilists."
"That is correct, Sire."
"Ah, you confess that?"
"I do not confess; I simply affirm that Natacha had an understandingwith the Nihilists."
"Who plotted their abominable attacks against the ex-Governor ofMoscow."
"Sire, since Natacha had an understanding with the Nihilists, it was notto kill her father, but to save him. And the project of which you holdhere the proofs, but of whose character you are unaware, is to end theattacks of which you speak, instantly."
"You say that."
"I speak the truth, Sire."
"Where are the proofs? Show me your papers."
"I have none. I have only my word."
"That is not sufficient."
"It will be sufficient, once you have heard me."
"I listen."
"Sire, before revealing to you a secret on which depends the life ofGeneral Trebassof, you must permit me some questions. Your Majesty holdsthe life of the general very dear?"
"What has that to do with it?"
"Pardon. I desire that Your Majesty assure me on that point."
"The general has protected my throne. He has saved the Empire from oneof the greatest dangers that it has ever run. If the servant who hasdone such a service should be rewarded by death, by the punishment thatthe enemies of my people prepare for him in the darkness, I should neverforgive myself. There have been too many martyrs already!"
"You have replied to me, Sire, in such a way that you make me understandthere is no sacrifice--even to the sacrifice of your amour-propre thegreatest a ruler can suffer--no sacrifice too dear to ransom from deathone of these martyrs."
"Ah, ah! These gentlemen lay down conditions to me! Money. Money. Theyneed money. And at how much do they rate the head of the general?"
"Sire, that does not touch Your Majesty, and I never will come to offeryou such a bargain. That matter concerns only Natacha Feodorovna, whohas offered her fortune!"
"Her fortune! But she has nothing."
"She will have one at the death of the general. Now she engages to giveit all to the Revolutionary Committee the day the general dies--if hedies a natural death!"
The Emperor rose, greatly agitated.
"To the Revolutionary Party! What do you tell me! The fortune of thegeneral! Eh, but these are great riches."
"Sire, I have told you the secret. You alone should know it and guard itforever, and I have your sacred word that, when the hour comes, you willlet the prize go where it is promised. If the general ever learns ofsuch a thing, such a treaty, he would easily arrange that nothing shouldremain, and he would denounce his daughter who has saved him, and thenhe would promptly he the prey of his enemies and yours, from whom youwish to save him. I have told the secret not to the Emperor, but to therepresentative of God on the Russian earth. I have confessed it to thepriest, who is bound to forget the words uttered only before God. AllowNatacha Feodorovna her own way, Sire! And her father, your servant,whose life is so dear to you, is saved. At the natural death of thegeneral his fortune will go to his daughter, who has disposed of it."
Rouletabille stopped a moment to judge of the effect produced. It wasnot good. The face of his august listener was more and more in a frown.
The silence continued, and now the reporter did not dare to break it. Hewaited.
Finally, the Emperor rose and walked forward and backward across theroom, deep in thought. For a moment he stopped at the window and wavedpaternally to the little Tsarevitch, who played in the park with thegrand-duchesses.
Then he returned to Rouletabille and pinched his ear.
"But, tell me, how have you learned all this? And who then has poisonedthe general and his wife, in the kiosk, if not Natacha?"
"Natacha is a saint. It is nothing, Sire, that she has been raised inluxury, and vows' herself to misery; but it is sublime that she guardsin her heart the secret of her sacrifice from everyone, and, in spite ofall, because secrecy is necessary and has been required of her. See herguarding it before her father, who has been brought to believe in thedishonor of his daughter, and still to be silent when a word would haveproved her innocent; guarding it face to face with her fiance, whom sheloves, and repulses because marriage is forbidden to the girl who issupposed to be rich and who will be poor; guarding it, above all--andguarding it still--in the depths of the dungeon, and ready to take theroad to Siberia under the accusation of assassination, because thatignominy is necessary for the safety of her father. That, Sire--oh,Sire, do you see!"
"But you, how have you been able to penetrate into this guarded secret?"
"By watching her eyes. By observing, when she believed herself alone,the look of terror and the gleams of love. And, beyond all, by lookingat her when she was looking
at her father. Ah, Sire, there were momentswhen on her mystic face one could read the wild joy and devotion of themartyr. Then, by listening and by piecing together scraps of phrasesinconsistent with the idea of treachery, but which immediately acquiredmeaning if one thought of the opposite, of sacrifice. Ah, that is it,Sire! Consider always the alternative motive. What I finally could seemyself, the others, who had a fixed opinion about Natacha, could notsee. And why had they their fixed opinion? Simply because the idea ofcompromise with the Nihilists aroused at once the idea of complicity!For such people it is always the same thing--they never can see butthe one side of the situation. But, nevertheless, the situation had twosides, as all situations have. The question was simple. The compromisewas certain. But why had Natacha compromised herself with the Nihilists?Was it necessarily in order to lose her father? Might it not be, on thecontrary, in order to save him? When one has rendezvous with an enemy itis not necessarily to enter into his game, sometimes it is to disarmhim with an offer. Between these two hypotheses, which I alone took thetrouble to examine, I did not hesitate long, because Natacha's everyattitude proclaimed her innocence: and her eyes, Sire, in which oneread purity and love, prevailed always with me against all the passingappearances of disgrace and crime.
"I saw that Natacha negotiated with them. But what had she to place inthe scales against the life of her father? Nothing--except the fortunethat she would have one day.
"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 Iwas not long in ascertaining that the negotiations in this formidableaffair were taking place in the very house of Trebassof! Pursued withoutby the incessant spying of Koupriane, who sought to surprise herin company with the Nihilists, watched closely, too, by the jealoussupervision of Boris, who was jealous of Michael Nikolaievitch, shehad to seize the only opportunities possible for such negotiations, atnight, in her own home, the sole place where, by the very audacity ofit, she was able to play her part in any security.
"Michael Nikolaievitch knew Annouchka. There was certainly the point ofdeparture for the negotiations which that felon-officer, traitor toall sides, worked at will toward the realization of his own infamousproject. I do not think that Michael ever confided to Natacha thathe was, from the very first, the instrument of the revolutionaries.Natacha, who sought to get in touch with the revolutionary party, hadto entrust him with a correspondence for Annouchka, following which heassumed direction of the affair, deceiving the Nihilists, who, intheir absolute penury, following the revolt, had been seduced by theproposition of General Trebassof's daughter, and deceiving Natacha,whom he pretended to love and by whom he believed himself loved. At thispoint in the affair Natacha came to understand that it was necessary topropitiate Michael Nikolaievitch, her indispensable intermediary, andshe managed to do it so well that Boris Mourazoff felt the blackestjealousy. On his side, Michael came to believe that Natacha wouldhave no other husband than himself, but he did not propose to marry apenniless girl! And, fatally, it followed that Natacha, in that infernalintrigue, negotiated for the life of her father through the agency of aman who, underhandedly, sought to strike at the general himself, becausethe immediate death of her father before the negotiation was completedwould enrich Natacha, who had given Michael so much to hope. Thatfrightful tragedy, Sire, in which we have lived our most painful hours,appeared to me, confident of Natacha's innocence, as absolutely simpleas for the others it seemed complicated. Natacha believed she had inMichael Nikolaievitch a man who worked for her, but he worked only forhimself. The day that I was convinced of it, Sire, by my examination ofthe approach to the balcony, I had a mind to warn Natacha, to go to herand 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 myrejoining Natacha; and I must attribute it to destiny, which would notpermit the loss of that man. Michael Nikolaievitch, who was a traitor,was too much in the 'combination,' and if he had been rejected he wouldhave ruined everything. I caused him to disappear! The great misfortunethen was that Natacha, holding me responsible for the death of a man shebelieved innocent, never wished to see me again, and, when she did seeme, refused to have any conversation with me because I proposed that Itake Michael's place for her with the revolutionaries. She would havenothing to do with me in order to protect her secret. Meantime, theNihilists believed they were betrayed by Natacha when they learned ofthe death of Michael, and they undertook to avenge him. They seizedNatacha, and bore her off by force. The unhappy girl learned then, thatsame evening, of the attack which destroyed the datcha and, happily,still spared her father. This time she reached a definite understandingwith the revolutionary party. Her bargain was made. I offer you forproof of it only her attitude when she was arrested, and, even in thatmoment, her sublime silence."
While Rouletabille urged his view, the Emperor let him talk on and on,and now his eyes were dim.
"Is it possible that Natacha has not been the accomplice, in all, ofMichael Nikolaievitch?" he demanded. "It was she who opened her father'shouse to him that night. If she was not his accomplice she would havemistrusted him, she would have watched him."
"Sire, Michael Nikolaievitch was a very clever man. He knew so well howto 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. Itwas the word, the signature of Annouchka that she demanded before givingher own. The evening Michael Nikolaievitch died, he was charged to bringher that signature. I know it, myself, because, pretending drunkenness,I was able to overhear enough of a conversation between Annouchka anda man whose name I must conceal. Yes, that last evening, MichaelNikolaievitch, when he entered the datcha, had the signature in hispocket, but also he carried the weapon or the poison with which healready had attempted and was resolved to reach the father of her whomhe believed was assuredly to be his wife."
"You speak now of a paper, very precious, that I regret not to possess,monsieur," said the Tsar coldly, "because that paper alone would haveproved to me the innocence of your protegee."
"If you have not it, Sire, you know well that it is because I havewished you to have it. The corpse had been searched by Katharina, thelittle Bohemian, and I, Sire, prevented Koupriane from finding thatsignature in Katharina's possession. In saving the secret I have savedGeneral Trebassof's life, who would have preferred to die rather thanaccept such an arrangement."
The Tsar stopped Rouletabille in his enthusiastic outburst.
"All that would be very beautiful and perhaps admirable," said he, moreand more coldly, because he had entirely recovered himself, "if Natachahad not, herself, with her own hand, poisoned her father and herstep-mother!--always with arsenate of soda."
"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 firstattempt. But Natacha is innocent of that, Sire. I swear it to you. Astrue as that I have certainly escaped being hanged."
"How, hanged?"
"Oh, it has not amounted to much now, Your Majesty."
And Rouletabille recounted his sinister adventure, up to the momentof his death, or, rather, up to the moment when he had believed he wasgoing to die.
The Emperor listened to the young reporter with complete stupefaction.He murmured, "Poor lad!" then, suddenly:
"But how have you managed to escape them?"
"Sire they have given me twenty-four hours for you to set Natacha atliberty, that is to say, that you restore her to her rights, all herrights, and she be always the recognized heiress of Trebassof. Do youunderstand me, Sire?
"I will understand you, perhaps, when you have explained to me howNatacha has not poisoned her father and step-mother."
"There are some things so simple, Sire, that one is able to think ofthem only with a rope around one's neck. But let u
s reason it out. Wehave here four persons, two of whom have been poisoned and the other twowith 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 notwished to poison the general, and that, as for me, I have not wishedto poison anybody. That, if we are absolutely sure of it, leaves as thepoisoner only Natacha. That is so certain, so inevitable, that there isonly one case, one alone, where, in such conditions, Natacha would notbe regarded as the poisoner."
"I confess that, logically, I do not see," said the Tsar, "anythingbeyond that but more and more of a tangle. What is it?"
"Logically, the only case would be that where no one had been poisoned,that is to say, where no one had taken any poison."
"But the presence of the poison has been established!" cried theEmperor.
"Still, the presence of the poison proves only its presence, not thecrime. Both poison and ipecac were found in the stomach expulsions. Fromwhich a crime has been concluded. What state of affairs was necessaryfor there to have been no crime? Simply that the poison should haveappeared in the expulsions after the ipecac. Then there would have beenno poisoning, but everyone would believe there had been. And, for that,someone would have poured the poison into the expulsions."
The Tsar never quitted Rouletabille's eyes.
"That is extraordinary," said he. "But of course it is possible. In anycase, it is still only an hypothesis.
"And so long as it could be an hypothesis that no one thought of, itcould be just that, Sire. But if I am here, it is because I have theproof that that hypothesis corresponds to the reality. That necessaryproof of Natacha's innocence, Your Majesty, I have found with therope around my neck. Ah, I tell you it was time! What has hinderedus hitherto, I do not say to realize, but even to think, of thathypothesis? Simply that we thought the illness of the general hadcommenced before the absorption of the ipecac, since Matrena Petrovnahad been obliged to go for it to her medicine-closet after his illnesscommenced, in order to counteract the poison of which she also appearedto be the victim.
"But, if I acquire proof that Matrena Petrovna had the ipecac athand before the sickness, my hypothesis of pretense at poisoning hasirresistible force. Because, if it was not to use it before, why did shehave it with her before? And if it was not that she wished to hide thefact that she had used it before, why did she wish to make believe thatshe went to find it afterwards?
"Then, in order to show Natacha's innocence, here is what must beproved: that Matrena Petrovna had the ipecac on her, even when she wentto look for it."
"Young Rouletabille, I hardly breathe," said the Tsar.
"Breathe, Sire. The proof is here. Matrena Petrovna necessarily had theipecac on her, because after the sickness she had not the time for goingto find it. Do you understand, Sire? Between the moment when she fledfrom the kiosk and when she returned there, she had not the actual timeto go to her medicine-closet to find the ipecac."
"How have you been able to compute the time?" asked the Emperor.
"Sire, the Lord God directed, Who made me admire Feodor Feodorovitch'swatch just when we went to read, and to read on the dial of that watchtwo minutes to the hour, and the Lord God directed yet, Who, after thescene of the poison, at the time Matrena returned carrying the ipecacpublicly, made the hour strike from that watch in the general's pocket.
"Two minutes. It was impossible for Matrena to have covered thatdistance in two minutes. She could only have entered the deserted datchaand left it again instantly. She had not taken the trouble to mount tothe floor above, where, she told us and repeated when she returned, theipecac was in the medicine-closet. She lied! And if she lied, all isexplained.
"It was the striking of a watch, Sire, with a striking apparatus and asound like the general's, there in the quarters of the revolutionaries,that roused my memory and indicated to me in a second this argument ofthe time.
"I got down from my gallows-scaffold, Your Majesty, to experiment onthat time-limit. Oh, nothing and nobody could have prevented my makingthat experiment before I died, to prove to myself that Rouletabille hadall along been right. I had studied the grounds around the datcha enoughto be perfectly exact about the distances. I found in the court where Iwas to be hanged the same number of steps that there were from thekiosk to the steps of the veranda, and, as the staircase of therevolutionaries had fewer steps, I lengthened my journey a few steps bywalking around a chair. Finally, I attended to the opening and closingof the doors that Matrena would have had to do. I had looked at a watchwhen I started. When I returned, Sire, and looked at the watch again, Ihad taken three minutes to cover the distance--and it is not for me toboast, but I am a little livelier than the excellent Matrena.
"Matrena had lied. Matrena had simulated the poisoning of the general.Matrena had coolly poured ipecac in the general's glass while we wereillustrating with matches a curious-enough theory of the nature of theconstitution of the empire."
"But this is abominable!" cried the Emperor, this time definitelyconvinced by the intricate argument of Rouletabille. "And what end couldthis imitation serve?'"
"The end of preventing the real crime! The end that she believed herselfto have attained, Sire, to have Natacha removed forever--Natacha whomshe believed capable of any crime."
"Oh, it is monstrous! Feodor Feodorovitch has often told me that Matrenaloved Natacha sincerely."
"She loved her sincerely up to the day that she believed herguilty. Matrena Petrovna was sure of Natacha's complicity in MichaelNikolaievitch's attempt to poison the general. I shared her stupor, herdespair, when Feodor Feodorovitch took his daughter in his arms afterthat tragic night, and embraced her. He seemed to absolve her. It wasthen that Matrena resolved within herself to save the general in spiteof himself, but I remain persuaded that, if she had dared such a planagainst Natacha, it would only be because of what she believed definiteproof of her step-daughter's infamy. These papers, Sire, that you haveshown me, and which show, if nothing more, an understanding betweenNatacha and the revolutionaries, could only have been in the possessionof Michael or of Natacha. Nothing was found in Michael's quarters. Tellme, then, that Matrena found them in Natacha's apartment. Then, she didnot hesitate!"
"If one outlined her crime to her, do you believe she would confess it?asked the Emperor.
"I am so sure of it that I have had her brought here. By now Kouprianeshould be here at the chateau, with Matrena Petrovna."
"You think of everything, monsieur."
The Tsar moved to ring a bell. Rouletabille raised his hand.
"Not yet, Sire. I ask that you permit me not to be present at theconfusion of that brave, heroic, good woman who has loved me much. Butbefore I go, Sire--do you promise me?"
The Emperor believed he had not heard correctly or did not grasp themeaning. He repeated what Rouletabille had said. The young reporterrepeated it once more:
"Do you promise? No, Sire, I am not mad. I dare to ask you that. I haveconfided my honor to Your Majesty. I have told you Natacha's secret.Well, now, before Matrena's confession, I dare to ask you: Promise meto forget that secret. It will not suffice merely to give Natacha backagain to her father. It is necessary to leave her course open to her--ifyou really wish to save General Trebassof. What do you decide, Sire?"
"It is the first time anyone has questioned me, monsieur."
"Ah, well, it will be the last. But I humbly beg Your Majesty to reply."
"That would be many millions given to the Revolution."
"Oh, Sire, they are not given yet. The general is sixty-five, but he hasmany years ahead of him, if you wish it. By the time he dies--a naturaldeath, if you wish it--your enemies will have disarmed."
"My enemies!" murmured the Tsar in a low voice. "No, no; my enemiesnever will disarm. Who, then, will be able to disarm them?" added he,melancholily, shaking his head.
"Progress, Sire! If you wish it."
The Tsar turned red and looked at the audacious young man, who met thegaze of His Majesty frankly.
/> "It is kind of you to say that, my young friend. But you speak as achild."
"As a child of France to the Father of the Russian people."
It was said in a voice so solemn and, at the same time, so naivelytouching, that the Tsar started. He gazed again for some time in silenceat this boy who, this time, turned away his brimming eyes.
"Progress and pity, Sire."
"Well," said the Emperor, "it is promised."
Rouletabille was not able to restrain a joyous movement hardly inkeeping.
"You can ring now, Sire."
And the Tsar rang.
The reporter passed into a little salon, where he found the Marshal,Koupriane and Matrena Petrovna, who was "in a state."
She threw a suspicious glance at Rouletabille, who was not treated thismorning as the dear little domovoi-doukh. She permitted herself to beconducted, already trembling, before the Emperor.
"What happened?" asked Koupriane agitatedly.
"It so happened, my dear Monsieur Koupriane, that I have the pardon ofthe Emperor for all the crimes you have charged against me, and that Iwish 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 whatfollows? It follows that you must at once set Matiew free, whom I havetaken, if you remember, under my protection. Tell him that he is goingto make his way in France. I will find him a place on condition that heforgets certain lashes."
"Such a promise! Such an attitude toward me!" cried Koupriane. "But Iwill wait for the Emperor to tell me all these fine things. And yourNatacha, what do you do with her?"
"We release her also, monsieur. Natacha never has been the monster thatyou think."
"How can you say that? Someone at least is guilty."
"There are two guilty. The first, Monsieur le Marechal."
"What!" cried the Marshal.
"Monsieur le Marechal, who had the imprudence to bring such dangerousgrapes to the datcha des Iles, and--and--"
"And the other?" asked Koupriane, more and more anxiously.
"Listen there," said Rouletabille, pointing toward the Emperor'scabinet.
The sound of tears and sobs reached them. The grief and the remorseof Matrena Petrovna passed the walls of the cabinet. Koupriane wascompletely disconcerted.
Suddenly the Emperor appeared. He was in a state of exaltation such ashad never been known in him. Koupriane, dismayed, drew back.
"Monsieur," said the Tsar to him, "I require that Natacha Feodorovnabe here within the next two hours, and that she be conducted with thehonors due to her rank. Natacha is innocent, and we must make reparationto her."
Then, turning toward Rouletabille:
"I have learned what she knows and what she owes to you--we owe to you,my young friend."
The Tsar said "my young friend." Rouletabille, at this last momentbefore his departure, spoke Russian?
"Then she knows nothing, Sire. That is better, Sire, because YourMajesty and me, we must forget right from to-day that we know anything."
"You are right," said the Tsar thoughtfully. "But, my friend, what am Ito do for you?"
"Sire, one favor. Do not let me miss the train at 10:55."
And he threw himself on his knees.
"Remain on your knees, my friend. You are ready, thus. Monsieur leMarechal 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."
And it was thus that Joseph Rouletabille, of "L'Epoque," was createdofficer of St. Anne of Russia by the Emperor himself, who gave him theaccolade.
"They combine the whole course of time in this country," thoughtRouletabille, pressing his hand to his eyes to hold back the tears.
For the train at 10:55 everybody had crowded at Tsarskoie-Coelostation. Among those who had come from St. Petersburg to press the youngreporter's hand when they learned of his impending departure wereIvan Petrovitch, the jolly Councilor of the Emperor, and AthanaseGeorgevitch, the lively advocate so well known for his famous exploitswith knife and fork. They had come naturally with all their bandages anddressings, which made them look like glorious ruins. They brought thegreetings of Feodor Feodorovitch, who still had a little fever, and ofThaddeus Tchitchnikoff, the Lithuanian, who had both legs broken.
Even after he was in his compartment Rouletabille had to drink his lastdrink of champagne. When nothing remained in the bottle and everyonehad embraced and re-embraced him, as the train did not start quite yet,Athanase Georgevitch opened a second "last" bottle. It was then thatMonsieur le Grand Marechal arrived, out of breath. They invited himto drink, and he accepted. But he had need to speak to Rouletabille inprivate, and he drew the reporter, after excuses, out into the corridor.
"It is the Emperor himself who has sent me," said the high dignitarywith emotion. "He has sent me about the eider downs. You forgot toexplain the eider downs to him."
"Niet!" replied Rouletabille, laughing. "That is nothing. Nitchevo! HisMajesty's eider downs are of the finest eider, as one of the feathersthat you have shown me demonstrates. Well, open them now. They are acheap imitation, as the second feather proves. The return of thefalse eider downs, before evening, proves then that they hoped thesubstitution would pass undetected. That is all. Caracho! Collapse ofthe hoax. Your health! Vive le Tsar!"
"Caracho! Caracho!"
The locomotive was puffing when a couple were seen running, a man and awoman. It was Monsieur and Madame Gounsovski.
Gounsovski stood on the running-board.
"Madame Gounsovski has insisted upon shaking hands. You are verycongenial."
"Compliments, madame."
"Tell me, young man, you did wrong to fail for dinner at my houseyesterday."
"I would have certainly escaped a disagreeable little journey intoFinland. I do not regret it, monsieur."
The train trembled and moved. They cried, "Vive la France! Vive laRusse!" Athanase Georgevitch wept. Matrena Petrovna, at a window of thestation, whither she had timidly retired, waved a handkerchief to thelittle domovoi-doukh, who had made her see everything in the rightlight, and whom she did not dare to embrace after the terrible affair ofthe false poison and the Tsar's anger.
The reporter threw her a respectful kiss.
As he said to Gounsovski, there was nothing to be regretted.
All the same, as the train took its way toward the frontier,Rouletabille threw himself back on the cushions, and said:
"Ouf!"
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