The Price of Power Part 8

Twice during our chat I had referred to the case of my friends Madame and Mademoiselle de Rosen, hoping that he would extend to them the Imperial clemency, and by a stroke of that well-worn quill upon the big writing-table recall them from that long and weary journey upon which they had been sent.

But His Majesty, who was wearing the undress uniform of a general with a single cross at his throat, uttered an expression of regret that I had been friendly with them.

"In Russia, in these days, a foreigner should exercise the greatest caution in choosing his friends," he said. "Only the day before yesterday Markoff reported it was to those two women that the attempt in the Nevski was entirely due. The others, thirty or so, were merely tools of those clever women."

"Forgive me, Your Majesty, when I say that General Markoff lies," I replied boldly.

"Enough! Our opinions differ, Trewinnard," he snapped, with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

It was on the tip of my tongue to make a direct charge against his favourite official, but what was the use when I held no actual proof.

Twice recently I had seen Natalia, but she refused to allow me sight of the letters, telling me that she intended herself to show up the General in her own way--and at her own time.

So the subject had dropped, for I saw that mention of it only aroused the Emperor's displeasure. And surely the other matter which we were discussing with closed doors was weighty enough.

At last His Majesty tossed his cigarette-end away, and, his jewelled cross glittering at his throat, rose with outstretched hand, as sign that my audience was at an end.

That eternal military band was playing in the grey courtyard below, and the Emperor had slammed-to the window impatiently to keep out the sound.

He was in no mood for musical comedy that afternoon. Indeed, I knew that the military music often irritated him, but Court etiquette--those iron-bound, unwritten laws which even an Emperor cannot break--demanded it. Those same laws decreed that no Emperor of Russia may travel _incognito_, as do all other European sovereigns; that at dinner at the Winter Palace there must always be eight guests; and that the service of gold plate of Catherine the Great must always be used. At the Russian Court there are a thousand such laws, the breach of a single one being an unpardonable offence, even in the case of the autocratic ruler himself.

"Then you understand my wishes--eh, Trewinnard?" His Majesty said at last in English, gripping my hand warmly.

"Perfectly, Sire."

"I need not impress upon you the need for absolute and entire discretion. I trust you implicitly."

"I hope Your Majesty's trust will never be betrayed," I answered fervently, bowing over the strong outstretched hand.

And then, backing out of the door, I bowed and withdrew.

Through the long corridor with its soft red carpet I went, pa.s.sing Calitzine, a short, dark man in funereal black, the Emperor's private secretary, to whom I pa.s.sed the time of day.

Then, reaching the grand staircase with its wonderful marble and gold bal.u.s.trades and great chandeliers of crystal, I descended to the huge hall, where the echoes were constantly aroused by hurrying footsteps of ministers, officials, chamberlains, courtiers and servants--all of them sycophants.

The two gigantic sentries at the foot of the stairs held their rifles at the salute as I pa.s.sed between them, when of a sudden I caught sight of the Grand d.u.c.h.ess Natalia in a pretty summer gown of pale-blue, standing with a tall, full-bearded elderly man in the brilliant uniform of the 15th Regiment of Grenadiers of Tiflis, of which he was chief, and wearing many decorations. It was her father, the Grand Duke Nicholas.

"Why, here's old Uncle Colin!" cried my incorrigible little friend in pleased surprise. "Have you been up with the Emperor?"

I replied in the affirmative, and, bowing, greeted His Imperial Highness, her father, with whom I had long been on friendly terms.

"Where are you going?" asked the vivacious young lady quickly as she reb.u.t.toned her long white glove, for they had, it seemed, been on a visit to the Empress.

"I have to go to the opening of the new wing of the Naval Hospital," I said. "And I haven't much time to spare."

"We are going there, too. I have to perform the opening ceremony in place of the Emperor," replied the Grand Duke. "So drive with us."

"That's it, Uncle Colin!" exclaimed his daughter. "Come out for an airing. It's a beautiful afternoon."

So we went forth into the great courtyard, where one of the Imperial state carriages, an open one, was in waiting, drawn by four fine, long-tailed Caucasian horses.

Behind it was a troop of mounted Cossacks to act as escort.

We entered, and the instant the bare-headed flunkeys had closed the door the horses started off, and we swung out of the handsome gateway into the wide Place, in the centre of which stood the grey column of Peter the Great.

Turning to the left we went past the Alexander Gardens, now parched and dusty with summer heat, and skirted the long facade of the War Office.

"I wonder what tales you've been telling the Emperor about me, Uncle Colin?" asked the impudent little lady, laughing as we drove along, I being seated opposite the Grand Duke and his daughter.

"About you?" I echoed with a smile. "Oh, nothing, I a.s.sure you--or, at least, nothing that was not nice."

"You're a dear, I know," declared the girl, her father laughing amusedly the while. "But you are so dreadfully proper. You're worse about etiquette than father is--and he's simply horrid. He won't ever let me go out shopping alone, and I'm surely old enough to do that!"

"You're quite old enough to get into mischief, Tattie," replied her father, speaking in French.

"I love mischief. That's the worst of it," and she pouted prettily.

"Yes, quite true--the worst of it, for me," declared His Imperial Highness. "I thought that when you went to school in England they would teach you manners."

"Ordinary manners are not Court manners," the girl argued, trying to reb.u.t.ton one of her gloves which had come unfastened.

"Let me do it," I suggested, and quickly fastened it.

"Thank you," she laughed with mock dignity. "How charming it is to have such a polished diplomat as Mr Colin Trewinnard to do nice things for one. Now, isn't that a pretty speech? I suppose I ought to study smart things to say, and practise them on the dog--as father does sometimes."

"Really, Tattie, you forget yourself, my dear," exclaimed her father, with distinct disapproval.

"Well, that's nothing," declared my charming little companion. "Don't parsons practise preaching their sermons, and lawyers and statesmen practise their clever untruths? You can't expect a woman's mouth to be full of sugar-plums of speech, can you?"

My eyes met those of the Grand Duke, and we both burst out laughing at the girl's quaint philosophy.

"Why, even the Emperor has his speeches composed and written for him by silly old Calitzine," she went on. "And at Astrakhan the other day I composed a most telling and patriotic speech for His Majesty, which he delivered when addressing the officers of the Army of the Volga. I sat on my horse and listened. The old generals and colonels, and all the rest of them, applauded vociferously, and the men threw their caps in the air. I wonder if they would have done this had they known that I had written those well-turned patriotic sentences, I--a mere chit of a girl, as father sometimes tells me!"

"And the terror of the Imperial family," I ventured to add.

"Thank you for your compliment. Uncle Colin," she laughed. "I know father endorses your sentiments. I see it in his face."

"Oh, do try and be serious, Tattie," he urged. "See all those people!

Salute them, and don't laugh so vulgarly." And he raised his white-gloved hand to his s.h.i.+ning helmet in recognition of the shouts of welcome rising from those a.s.sembled along our route.

Whereat she bowed gracefully again with that slight and rather frigid smile which she had been taught to a.s.sume on public occasions.

"If I put up my sunshade they won't see me, and it will avoid such a lot of trouble," she exclaimed suddenly, and she put up her pretty parasol, which matched her gown and softened the light upon her pretty face.

"Oh, no, Uncle Colin!" she exclaimed suddenly, as we turned the corner into the Yosnesenskaya, a long, straight street where the throng, becoming greater, was kept back by lines of police in their grey coats, peaked caps and revolvers. "I know what you are thinking. But it isn't so. I'm not in the least afraid of spoiling my complexion."

"Then perhaps it is a pity you are not," I replied. "Complexions, like all s.h.i.+ning things, tarnish quickly."

"Just like reputations, I suppose," she remarked, whereupon her father could not restrain another laugh.