The Orpheus C. Kerr Papers - BestLightNovel.com
You’re reading novel The Orpheus C. Kerr Papers Volume Ii Part 34 online at BestLightNovel.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit BestLightNovel.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
"'Ha! here are the two fugitives!' exclaimed Peter, observing the entrance of the party and approaching them.
"Nicholas started at the sound of that voice, and looking up, recognized in his sovereign, _The Little Man in Green_.
"'Your pardon, sire!' he exclaimed falling upon his knees, and remembering with the great trepidation how scurvily he had treated royalty in disguise.
"'Arise, Colonel Dimitri,' said the Czar kindly; 'you need not think of what has past; I am satisfied that you are a true and loyal subject.
But what possessed you to run away with this little rebel, man? Did you not know that she was affianced to Admiral Praxin?'
"'Pardon me sire, I did not,' answered Nicholas.
"'And you Olinska; you have disregarded our wishes, and thrown the gallant admiral overboard?' continued Peter, addressing the trembling girl, with a mixture of severity and good-nature.
"Olinska bowed her head.
"'What say you Praxin? Are you willing to yield your bride to the army, and let the navy remain a bachelor?'
"The Admiral had turned all colors, at the first entrance of Olinska, but marking that she remained silent, he plucked up sufficient courage to reply.
"'I cannot accept the lady's hand without her heart.'
"'Did you sue for them like a man?' demanded Peter, sternly.
"'I hope so, your majesty.'
"'You lie, base traitor!' thundered the Czar, eyeing him with a glance that chilled his blood.
"'Has _she_ betrayed me?' e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Praxin, turning deadly pale, and involuntarily clutching the handle of his sword.
"'No,' answered Peter in hoa.r.s.e tones, 'witness, come forth.'
"At that moment, the upper covering of the great pie was observed to move, and in another instant, it was thrown back, discovering the mighty Orloff, seated within the dish.
"'G.o.d save the Czar!' said the dwarf, rising and stepping forth upon the table, with a bow of studied politeness.
"'Orloff, point out the traitor,' said Peter.
"Orloff a.s.sumed an air of great penetration, and pointed toward the Admiral, who stood alone, with his back against the wall, a perfect picture of despairing guilt.
"'That is the man,' said the dwarf.
"'Give your proof.'
"'Your majesty must know, that I was present while Admiral Praxin was wooing the lady Olinska, and heard him say that your majesty dared not offend him; he also declared that she had but to say the word, and he would make her an Empress, explaining how he had the Poles, the Serfs, the Swedish refugees, and the navy at his command, ready at his bidding to make him Emperor of Russia.'
"'What say you to this charge?' demanded Peter.
"Praxin had regained somewhat of composure during the dwarf's speech; and at its conclusion he approached the Czar and falling upon his knees, surrendered his sword and belt.
"'I am guilty,' he said, in firm tones. 'Take my sword, gracious sovereign, and with it receive back the commission I have forever disgraced. In a moment of ungovernable pa.s.sion I spoke words which should have choked me ere I uttered them, and which I would give my life to recall. I desire no mercy; yet I would ask forgiveness of Olinska, for daring to breathe treason in her presence.'
"'Let us both forget it,' said Olinska, gently.
"'Alas _I_ can never forget it,' he replied, pressing her hands to his lips, and resuming his former att.i.tude.
"The Czar gazed some moments attentively and silently upon the face of Praxin, as though to read his inmost soul, and then turning to Nicholas, he said:
"'Colonel Dimitri, it is but just that I should explain my conduct to you and Olinska, as it was by making an unconscious tool of you that I have ferreted this matter out. I intended that Olinska should have wedded the Admiral, not knowing that her affections had been given to another; but lately I have distrusted him and ordered a spy of the police to watch him closely. My agent speedily brought me news of _your_ engagement, and your intended course; and I resolved to throw myself in your way, and gain a slight knowledge of your character. You know how I succeeded in that attempt. I also requested Olinska to receive the Admiral privately, and sent Orloff to be present--though concealed--at the interview. The Countess Walewski was made acquainted with my plans, by the dwarf, and hence your presence here. As a punishment for an attempt to outwit me, I command that you be married before you leave the palace. As for you, Admiral,' he continued, turning to Praxin, 'in consideration of the many services you have rendered us, I grant you a free pardon. You have been humiliated in the eyes of your friends, and have failed to win a prize worthy of my best subject. May you learn the lesson that pa.s.sion will not always excuse dangerous words, nor is a sovereign's leniency everlasting.'
"Universal rejoicings followed this generous speech, and the victims of the royal whim retired from the imperial palace, married--for better or worse."
This Russian tale sent us all home very thirsty, my boy; for its effect was very dry.
Yours, weariedly, ORPHEUS C. KERR.
LETTER LXXIV.
CONCERNING THE SERIOUS MISTAKE OF THE VENERABLE GAMMON, THE CHAPLAIN'S POETICAL DISCOVERY, THE PROMOTION OF COMMODORE HEAD, AND THE RECEPTION OF THE PRESIDENT'S PROCLAMATION BY THE SOUTHERN CONFEDERACY.
WAs.h.i.+NGTON, D. C., October 12th, 1862.
The Southern Confederacy having delayed to sue for peace, my boy, until the safety of Was.h.i.+ngton requires that national strategy should continue metaphysical hostilities, it may be as well for you and me as a nation to prepare for a speedy commencement of War in earnest. The North, my boy, has not begun to fight yet; and as the stolid centuries roll on, and the h.o.a.ry years move one by one into the sunless solitude of Eternity, it becomes daily more evident that the North's actual putting forth of all its strength is merely a question of time. The giant is only just rousing from his slumbers, and nothing but his legs and feet appear to be thoroughly awake yet.
Now, is the time, my boy, for the idiotic Confederacy to save himself, by returning penitently to that beneficent Government which would have realized the millenium at half-past two o'clock on the Fourth of July, 1776, but for the unseemly villainy of the accursed Black Republicans, many of whom are shortly to be hung.
That is to say, such is the opinion of the Venerable Gammon, whose benignant presence is believed to have proved the salvation of our distracted country in the Revolutionary War, though I can find nothing, except his protecting patriarchal deportment toward all the present universe, to justify the idea that he ever benefited anything. It soothes the human soul, my boy, to hear this Venerable man discoursing on the most trite subjects in tones, and with an air calculated to bless all created things as with a paternal benediction. Surrounded by a number of his idolatrous national children, and standing in front of Willard's the other evening, he pointed fatly to a bright star overhead, and says he:
"That star is like our country. That star," says the Venerable Gammon, with a meaningless smile of angelic purity, "is like any other star on our flag; _though clouds may hide it in its ascending node, it is still knowed to be ascending_."
Then everybody felt cheered with the peaceful conviction that Columbia was saved at last; and it's my private belief, my boy--my private belief, that the attached populace looked upon this good old man as the one who had made the star.
Yet, strange as it may seem, this venerable Benefactor made a little mistake on Tuesday. A sportive young chap came to him with a newspaper in his hand, and says he: "Let me see if you can tell, my _Pater Patria_, what paper this article is in"--and proceeded to read the following high-minded editorial:
"TREASON OF THE BLACK REPUBLICANS.
"True to their foul instincts, the Greely, Cheever, and Wendell Phillips herd of treasonable fanatics are now accusing their 'Honest Old Abe' of ruining the country. It was their votes that elected the rail-splitter, and now they turn tail upon him and howl maledictions because he will not carry out their fiendish intents by erecting a revolutionary guillotine in every Northern town and city. That blasphemous mountebank, Beecher, may as well cease his treasonable impiety at once; for he and his Sharps'-rifle crew are responsible for the present bankruptcy of the whole country, and the people will yet hold them to strict account for every drop of blood that has been and will be shed in this unnatural strife."
When sportive chap ceased reading, the Venerable Gammon waved his obese hand with the fond, familiar air of a pleased benignity, and says he:
"Of course, I know what paper that is, my son. I know the ring of those sterling conservative sentiments," says the Venerable Gammon, with calm satisfaction, "and am blessed in the knowledge that our loyal New York Herald is still true to the Const.i.tution and to the principles of my old friend, Georgey Was.h.i.+ngton--or 'old Wash,' as he permitted me to call him."
The sportive chap softly picked his teeth with a wisp from a broom, and says he: "But this ain't the Herald at all, you dear old soul; it's a copy of the Richmond Whig!" It was at this very moment, my boy, that the Venerable Gammon was first attacked by that dreadful cough which put an end to all further conversation, and has since excited the most fearful apprehensions lest a bereaved country should suddenly be called to mourn the untimely loss of its benign idol.
On Tuesday afternoon, I had a talk with the Mackerel chaplain, who had remained here over Sunday to administer consolation to a dying brigadier, and was grievously wounded in spirit to find that the telegraph had committed a trifling breach of spelling, and that that brigadier was only dyeing his hair, which had suddenly turned white in a single night on the strength of a rumor that there might be some fighting in the morning.