by Mór Jókai
CHAPTER X
FROM SCENT OF MUSK TO REEKING TAR
When those assembled were assured of Galban's departure, Pestel began:
"My lords and gentlemen, that was very fine--I mean the romance; but itseems to me we have met to discuss other matters. Is it not so, CousinKrizsanowski?"
The Polish noble shrugged his shoulders.
"I have nothing more to say." At the same time, drawing from his pocketthe inevitable meerschaum and tobacco-pouch, he slowly filled andlighted his pipe, which in the Eastern "language of tobacco" implies, "Ishould have plenty to say, if I could only smoke out from here certainfolk who seem suspicious to me."
Zeneida, understanding his meaning, whispered something in Ryleieff'sear.
"All right," returned Ryleieff, "let us hear our Pushkin's song ofliberty. True, the fine romance you read us entitles us to name you ourTyrtaeus. Never, since Byron--"
Pushkin did not allow him to finish the sentence. His praises excitedhim to fury. A schoolboy may win with pride the prize for the bestverses, and carry it home in triumph to his parents, but your true poetcannot brook being praised to his face. He feels that he has constrainedyour praises. Thus, if you be a woman, throw him a flower; if a man,give him a shake of the hand; but never tell him face to face that hehas composed a fine poem; by so doing you repel him. And worse than allis it for another poet to praise his work. "_Genus irritabile vatum._"
"No, no, gentlemen," he cried, in wrathful voice. "My poem is not foryour ears. It is not meant for musk-scented atmospheres, but for such asreek with tar and tobacco. Come, Jakuskin, let us go off to somebeer-shop; that's the right place for it."
Springing up, Jakuskin held out his hand to him.
"All right, let us go to the Bear's Paw."
"Very well."
No one attempted to detain them. Between the two doors the rest of theirconversation was heard.
"Shall we take Diabolka with us?" said Jakuskin.
"All right. Let's look for her."
"She must have fallen asleep somewhere. I will soon wake her to lifeagain."
In this unceremonious fashion did the guests take their leave of theirhostess. Zeneida, however, following them, left the room.
"Now you can talk out," exclaimed Pestel, hurriedly, to Krizsanowski."Perhaps Zeneida's presence has hampered you. Have you anything to makeknown to us?"
"Yes," replied the Pole. "But it was not her presence which deterred me.Far from it. Women, when they are in a conspiracy, know well how to keepsecrets. Laena bit out her tongue on the wheel of torture that she mightnot betray her colleagues. Ever since then the tongueless lioness hasbeen the emblem of silence. Oh, I reckon greatly upon our women. I wouldeven rather await Zeneida's return before speaking, were I assured thatshe would not bring back the other two with her."
"You mistrust them?"
"No, but I do not like them. In conspiracies it is not the absolutetraitors who are the most to be feared. There are three classes I dreadmore--cowards, self-willed and fantastic persons. The last is the mostdangerous of all, for he deceives himself, and reports falsely. If hehear a drunken peasant swear, he reports the existence of arevolutionary spirit; if he see a solitary deserter, he distorts himinto a whole regiment. He believes just what his fancy paints. If he hasfilled his head with revolutionary writings he conceives himself to be aRobespierre, and every St. Petersburg mujik is a Paris _sans culotte_ tohim. To the working out of a conspiracy we want no fantastic notions;but, on the contrary, common-sense and judgment. With those two men Iprefer not to discuss matters; the one is a fool, the other a poet."
Pestel hastily pulled the Pole's long hanging sleeve.
"Do not affront Ryleieff," he said.
"Oh, Ryleieff is different. He can write any number of correctverses--faultless as to rhyme; he measures his thoughts into iambics andtrochees, like a corn merchant does his wheat into bushels and sacks. Heis master of his imagination--imagination does not master him."
Ryleieff was manager of the American Corn Company, and being, in truth,more business man than poet, received this doubtful compliment with anacquiescent smile.
The party, meanwhile, had risen from the table, and was standing aboutin little groups, awaiting Zeneida's return.
Ryleieff and Krizsanowski retired together into a corner. The Pole,smoking furiously, blew thick clouds of smoke about him, as thoughconsidering his rigid features a too transparent mask, likely to betrayhim. And in order not to be questioned, he began to question.
"There are one or two points I should be glad to have cleared up. Thefirst spring of every great aim proceeds from selfish motives.Freedom--well, yes, is the sun; private aims are earth. We are upon theearth. From mere abstract motives a new era has never been started. Myprivate motives require no explanation; they are expressed in twowords--I am a Pole. That is sufficient ground for me to stand upon.Fraeulein Ilmarinen is a Finn. I take it that is sufficient reason forher action. I have no fear that she will be dazzled by the pinnacle shestands on, encircled with wreaths and diamonds. I can also understandyour moving spring. You love your own race; you see how it has remainedbehind other nations, and would raise it to their level. Pestel'smotives also I can grasp. He has immense ambition. He would fain be thehead of a newly formed state. The basis is broad enough; his foot restson a sure pedestal. The rest are shifting, unstable, attracted to themovement by the hope of playing some brilliant part in it. Then we haveApostol Muravieff. He, too, is constrained to it by a paternal heritage,from which he cannot free himself. Pushkin is in love with Zeneida;that, too, is sure ground enough. That madman Jakuskin is actuated byrevenge; another safe passion on which one may rely. His sense ofpuritanical integrity binds that fine fellow Turgenieff to us. Fromearliest youth he has ever been in the advance guard of freedom, firstin the first rank. Such iron rectitude can be recast in no other form,rather it would break than yield. Now there is but one man here whosepresence I cannot understand: that is Duke Ghedimin. A member of one ofthe twelve old Russian dynastic families, his possessions so immensethat he is simply unable to expend his yearly income on Russian soil,holding the highest grade at Court, himself an accomplished, brilliant,sought-after aristocrat, who by any changes you may effect haseverything to lose, nothing to gain--what does he seek here? What is hisinterest in making himself one of this conspiracy?"
"He is the very one, among us all, who has the weightiest reason: therecollection of an irreconcilable affront, for it was a personal one.You know the Czar. You know that, as a man, no one is his enemy. EvenJakuskin merely hates in him the Czar, not the man. Duke Ghedimin is thesole one who stands opposed to him, as man to man. The Czar was marriedvery young, to a delicate wife; his children died early. He grew coldtowards his wife, and sought compensation in a new passion. The onlydaughter of one of our first families, renowned far and wide for hergreat beauty, was willing to console him. The illicit connection hadconsequences--a daughter. The affair was kept strictly secret. The youngduchess journeyed to Italy as an unmarried girl, and returned from therethe same. Soon after she married Duke Ghedimin. Meanwhile a young girlwas growing up in Italy who went by the name of Princess SophieNarishkin, and who, in her fourteenth year, was brought to St.Petersburg. It was her father, not her mother, who brought her here. Thegirl resides in a house surrounded by a garden in the outskirts of thecapital, where her father visits her constantly, her mother never. Thefather worships the child, who, moreover, is terribly delicate. Themother simply hates her. Her father is the Czar, her mother, PrincessGhedimin. Now do you see what brings Prince Ghedimin among us?"
"Yes, yes. But does he know the secret of the girl's birth?"
"Know it? We all do."
"Still, no reason why the husband should. Think a moment. What humanbeing is there who could go to a man like Prince Ghedimin and breathe tohim such a foul statement about his own wife? At the least whisper ofsuch a slander an inferior would receive the knout, an equal be shot. Ashopkeeper may denounce his wife; no gentleman does
such a thing. Whocould have made this known to Ghedimin?"
"Who other than his sweetheart! Is not Zeneida Prince Ghedimin'ssweetheart, and has she not a thousand reasons to enlighten him upon hiswife's shame?"
"Do not believe a word of it! She has not done it. You do not knowFraeulein Zeneida; I do. First of all, I do not believe she is Ghedimin'ssweetheart; or, if she love him, it is with a real love, not that of a_Ninon de l'Enclos_. But my belief is that she is in love with some oneelse; and I believe, moreover, that she controls that love. She is awoman capable of defying the scorn of the whole world, but not of doinganything to merit her own self-contempt. And for a woman who loves a manto denounce his own wife to him is a piece of vileness only fit for thelowest of the low. You do not know with whom you have to deal. Zeneidais playing some far-seeing game with you. You are mere chessmen in herhands; one may be a castle, another a bishop, the third a knight.Possibly Ghedimin may be your king of chess, but she is not the queen.She is playing the game."
"And you have confidence enough in her to consent to this?"
"Yes; because I am her partner."
The roulette ball spun round. Some one was coming. All hurriedlyreturned to their places. Krizsanowski did not deserve the scornfulsmile with which Ryleieff had silently received his greatutterance--for, indeed, it was a great utterance--"You others are onlythe chessmen; we two are the players." But so it was. The others onlysaw single moves; these two saw the whole game.
Krizsanowski had also plainly observed--although he made as if he sawnothing--with what painful anxiety Zeneida was moved to keep Pushkinaway from the dangerous chess-board. Such a head is too costly for a"pawn"; perhaps too precious to be staked for a whole nation--the wholeworld--certainly in her estimation.
She had chased him away as if he were the evil one; now she had hastenedafter him to prevent his coming back. She knew that the heads of allthose taking part in the conspiracy would fall prey to the executionerdid it not succeed, and Pushkin's must not be among them. And yet poetshave their whims. Should Jakuskin on the way reveal anything of thefateful conference which had taken place round Zeneida's roulette-table,the very charm of danger would bring Pushkin back. If he learned that itwas no mere academical discussion, but a council of war, which was beingheld, he would break open her doors to take his share in it.
Pushkin was still in the sulks. While Jakuskin hastened from one cabinetto another in search of Diabolka, he had thrown himself upon a sofa inthe palm-grove, replying to all the blandishments of passing fair ones.
"Leave me alone. I don't want you."
"Nor me either?" asked a well-known voice, at sound of which another,fairer, world seemed to open to him. And Zeneida, seating herself besidehim on the couch, asked, "Are you angry with me?"
"Confess. It was you who put Ryleieff up to insulting me?"
"In what way, dear friend?"
"I will not submit to be called Byron! I am Pushkin, or no one. Men maysay that my verses are common Russian brandy which gets into the head,but no one shall presume to call them the dregs of an English teapot. Imay be only a hillock, but I will not pose as a miniature Chimborazo.And it was your whisper to Ryleieff that did it."
"Yes; so it was."
"To drive me away?"
"To drive you away."
"I am not worthy, then, to join the society of the Bojars!"
"What care I for the Bojars and the whole Szojusz Blagadenztoiga? I givethem shelter--and _basta_!"
"And am I not worthy to singe my wings in the fire of your eyes?"
"It would convert you to ice."
"Are you so cold, then?"
"Cold as the northern light."
"Have you no heart?"
"According to anatomy I have such a thing; but it has other functionsthan those ascribed to it by poets. That of which you speak has, Galltells us, its seat in the skull, in No. 27 portion of the brain, and isnot developed in my organization."
"Do not kill me with your phrenology. You know what love is--"
"I know. The compact of a tyrant with a slave."
"Be you the tyrant; I will be the slave."
"With these words as many women have been deceived as there are grainsof sand on the sea-shore."
"I swear to you, my life, my very soul, are yours."
"By whom do you swear? By Venus, so inconstant; by Allah, who deniesthat women have souls, and divides the heart of man in four parts; byBrahma, who burns the widow on the funereal pyre; or by the greatCosmos?"
"There is nothing so formidable as a woman who takes to philosophizing!"
"That is why I do so."
"You kill every iota of poetry with it."
"Then speak prose."
"Well, then, I ask nothing of you--I give. I give you my soul, my hand,my name!"
"Ah, your name! That is a gift. A woman like me has diamonds, horses,houses, given her; but he who would offer her his name is indeed rare tomeet with. And yet a name is the most precious ornament. Without such aname, I am nobody. Were I to marry my groom of the chambers to-morrow, Ishould be a woman of respectability. My poor good Bogumil never dreamsthat in his fur-lined gloves, besides his own red hands, lies myreputation! So you would give me your name?--a name which, so far, hasbeen written on nothing else than overdue bills and ale-house doors. Yousilly boy! Why, people would not call me 'Frau Pushkin,' but you 'HerrIlmarinen.' But once let your name be written in the fiery letters offame, instead of chalked on innkeepers' slates, would you then unite itto another whose every letter is besmeared with--"
"With calumny!" broke in Pushkin, vehemently.
"It is but just. There is nothing so bad that can be said of me that Icannot fill in. I am selfish, unfeeling; I have no faith in religion,nor in honor. Both are sophistries, contradicting each other, accordingas the ethnographical relations change about. The only good is, whatbenefits mankind. Virtue is folly. The sole use of good men is to be thetools of their more clever fellows."
"Do not say such things," cried Pushkin. "When I hear you speak so, youseem to me as if you had smeared your face with hideous colors."
Was it not her calling to do so?
Zeneida drew her wrap about her shoulders.
"You will not see me such as I am. I am sorry for it; but I cannotdeceive. Have you no eyes for the magnificence which surrounds me? Doyou know whence it all comes? Would you have me forsake it all--forwhat?"
"For another world before whose splendor all you see around you mustfall into dust. The world into which I would lead you is filled withmore magnificent palaces than even yours, Zeneida. It is Paradise!"
"Find yourself another Eve. Did I love you, I should kill you with _my_jealousy; did I not love you, with _yours_. To-day with one, to-morrowwith another, for my caprices are boundless. I know no law, no oath, noshame. Go; save yourself from me! Now you are but ice, do not wait untilyou are aflame. I can be his only who loves me not!"
"Your words are mere falsehoods from beginning to end. You wish to driveme from you that I may not take part in the conspiracy! I am not worthy,in your eyes, to share the dangers my more distinguished friends arerunning. Let me go back to them!"
"What conspiracy?" exclaimed Zeneida, feigning astonishment. "Ourfriends are now debating how to introduce the American form of'Temperance Associations' into Russia in order to put an end to theenormous consumption of brandy now going on. There is no talk ofupsetting dynasties in my house. Do you suppose that the 'court singer'of the Czar, the court favorite, did she hear of any conspiracy againsthis Majesty, would not at once hasten to smooth her own way to a coronetby its disclosure?"
"A way marked out by the skulls of her best friends?"
"Well, yes."
"No. You would not do it."
"Who knows? I have no soul, and do not believe in the souls of others. Ihave no faith in a future world, therefore I use this world so thatthings may go well with me in it."
"And supposing it were to happen for a change that things did not gowell with you?"
"Then I would give back to earth what is earth's. The fable of thePhoenix has a deep-set meaning. When he feels that his plumage is wornout, he changes into ashes. Of all creatures man has the greatest rightto decide the term of his life."
Pushkin sought in the face which knew so well how to keep its secretswhat there was of truth in all this.
A sound of laughter and oaths behind the jasmine bush betokened theapproach of some noisy revellers. Zeneida sprang up from Pushkin's side.Laying her hand upon his shoulder, she whispered to him, in a voice madetender by deep feeling:
"Avoid me, and seek her who is worthy of you and truly loves you, yourMuse, and be faithful to her!"
And, like a phantom, she disappeared.
Jakuskin came forcing his way through the jasmine bower, Diabolka withhim.
"Come, let's be off to the Bear's Paw."
Pushkin sprang defiantly to his feet, and said, with a laugh.
"By Jove! here is my Muse! Come along; we'll go where we areunderstood."
And the three made their noisy way through the still thronged ballroom.
It was Zeneida whose reappearance the whirling roulette-ball hadannounced. A look from her told that the two had taken their departure.
Krizsanowski, removing the pipe from his mouth, put it in his pocket.
"Now we are among ourselves. Let us continue."
Pestel asked permission to speak.
"In order to disperse friend Krizsanowski's fears, let me first of allstate that we look upon Jakuskin as a fool; and that not a man of usendorses his mad views of a _Caesaricidium_; in fact, there is not a manamong us who would not prevent it. Our plan is this: In the comingspring there is to be a great concentration of troops in the Governmentof Minsk. The Ninth Army Corps will march to the fortress of Bobrinszkon the Beresina; the Czar and the Grand Dukes will themselves lead themanoeuvres, returning at night to the fortress, which fortress will beguarded by the Saratoff regiment of infantry, the colonel of which,Bojar Sveikofsky, is a member of the 'Szojusz Blagadenztoiga.' All theofficers of the Saratoff regiment belong to our Union. At night a patrolof officers, disguised as privates, commanded by Apostol Muravieff andCorporal Bestuseff, will relieve the guard outside the Czar's pavilion.They will promptly take the Czar, the Grand Dukes, and CommandantDiebitsch prisoners, proclaim a constitution, institute a provisionarygovernment, and proceed straightway, at the head of the whole armycorps, on the road to Moscow. On their way they will gain over all thetroops they come across. At news of their success Moscow will yield; andfrom thence St. Petersburg can be compelled to surrender. The men andofficers of the fleet, anchored off Cronstadt, are fully informed of ourplan. A man-of-war is in waiting to convey the entire imperial family toEngland. The revolution will be accomplished without the shedding of onedrop of blood. What do you say to it, friend Krizsanowski?"
"That your plan is too complicated; has too much romance about it; andthat the miscarriage of any minor detail would throw your wholereckoning into confusion. However, I do not look upon a successful issueas wholly impossible. The thing has already been achieved in Russia.Now, I will tell you what I bring, and which will serve to perfect yourplan. Do you not agree with me that its success were highlyproblematical if, after the kidnapping of the Czar, a Czarevitch wereremaining, who, by right of succession to the throne, could at the headof a whole army enter Russia to test the power of a republicangovernment by the loyalty of the people to throne and army?"
"That, in truth, is the rock on which we may be wrecked."
"Then, you may set yourselves at ease in that particular. I can promiseyou my head in pledge of my words that the Czarevitch will very shortlyresign his rights of succession; and resign after a fashion which willmake it impossible for him to recall the step, even did he himselfdesire to do so. Ay, even were he the sole remaining member of theRomanoff dynasty; and were the whole nation, senate, and peerage topress him to ascend the throne, it would be an impossibility to him."
"And is this no romancing?" cried Ryleieff.
"No. Positive knowledge; psychological necessity; logical sequence."
"Devil take me! If that is not a greater riddle than the Sphinx!"growled Pestel.
"I have said what I know. Whether you like to believe it or not, is youraffair."
So saying the Polish magnate rose, and thrust his pipe between histeeth, which was as much as to say that he had said his say, and wasintent on seeing that his pipe drew well.
But Zeneida, approaching him, whispered:
"Is not the key to this riddle called 'Johanna'?"
A nervous contraction passed over his set face at the mention of thename.
"If you have guessed it, tell it no further," he muttered under hismustache.
"I?"
"True. You are the 'tongueless lioness!'" returned the Pole, with asmile.
* * * * *
At that period lanterns were a luxury known but in few streets of theimperial city; and where a lantern did exist was posted a guard to watchthat it was not stolen. Therefore, in the courtyards of great palaceshuge fires were blazing, in order to give light to the guests' sledges,and that the jemsiks might protect themselves against the bitter nightcold. These fires gave out warmth and light at one and the same time.
With some difficulty Jakuskin found his sledge among the lines ofothers. Placing Diabolka between them, the two men wrapped her in theirfurs. She was too heedless ever to think of bringing her own. Thejemsik, made loquacious by oft recurrence to his brandy bottle, toldthem that the distinguished gentleman who had driven the eight-in-handinto the courtyard had but just gone off in his sledge, and had givenhis man orders to drive to Araktseieff Palace.
That was a piece of intelligence worth having.
Jakuskin told his jemsik to drive to the Bear's Paw.
"Never fear, children," returned the man; "I'll drive you safely throughside streets, that you may not be robbed."
"None of your side streets," said Jakuskin, "but just you drive alongthe Prospect and over the Fontanka Ringstrasse, where the patrols are.Don't be afraid about us, my man; we have our pistols."
"Ah, there's no use in that, children. The robbers might let you passscot-free when they saw your pistols; but the guards have no fear offirearms, and they would plunder you."
And the jemsik was by no means joking. Under the police presidency notonly the soldiers managed to slip out of barracks to act thelight-fingered gentry, but the patrols shared in the spoil, andcommissioners of police were the most reliable of accomplices. Greatfolk only ventured out at night with mounted escorts; their palace-doorswere strengthened with iron bars.
As they drove along the two men began scolding Diabolka for lettingChevalier Galban escape her, telling her how they had had to get rid ofhim at the cost of some thousands of rubles.
Just as the sledge turned off from the broad Prospect into FontankaRingstrasse, five armed men suddenly sprang out upon it. Two seized thehorses' bridles, one levelled his weapon at the coachman's head, thetwo others fell upon the occupants of the sledge. All were armed withswords and pistols, their faces concealed by masks; long sheep-skinscovered their persons from head to foot; their tall, pointed fur capsalone betraying them to be not only soldiers but grenadiers. One ofthem, speaking in French (consequently an officer), ejaculated:
"La bourse ou la vie, messieurs!"
On which Diabolka, suddenly springing up, jerked the pistol directed atPushkin's head out of the assailant's hand, and, throwing both armsround his neck, began, coaxingly:
"Ei, ei, sweetheart, cousin! would you plunder poor folk like us? Don'tyou know us, then? Look! this is the brave Jakuskin, a captain onhalf-pay; this, Pushkin, who has more creditors on his heels than kopecsin his pocket. I am Diabolka, who pays, and is paid, in kisses. Here area few--on your cheeks, eyes, lips. There, take as many as there is roomfor. But if you are wise, and want to make money, there's a richgentleman just now on his way home from Araktseieff Palace, who ha
s justpocketed thirteen thousand rubles at roulette. If you are quick you'llcatch him up on the ice, crossing the Fontanka. He is wearing a red foxcoat, trimmed with white bear-skin."
Her words were as magic. With one accord the four thieves, desertingsledge and their leader, took to their heels in the direction of theFontanka, as if they were possessed. The officer, too, seeing himselfthus left alone, endeavored to free himself from Diabolka's embrace. Butthat was not so easy.
"Stop! just one kiss on the tip of your nose."
Then he, too, was suffered to follow his companions. Diabolka laughedunrestrainedly.
"Ha, ha, ha! what good the consciousness of a meritorious action doesone! They are safe to clear out Chevalier Galban."
"But you might have let the fellow off the last kiss," growled Jakuskin."On the tip of his nose, too! As though he could feel it through hismask!"
"But those kisses were useful," returned the girl, with a sly wink."While kissing him, I was spying what the dear youth was wearing uponhis breast, and this is what I found." And she held up a star set withdiamonds.
"Eh, the devil! Why, it is a Vladimir order of the first class,"exclaimed Jakuskin.
"Our Rinaldo is high up in the army."
"A Vladimir order set with brilliants! Eh, jemsik, hold hard, and strikea light. The names of owners, as a rule, are usually written in goldinside the ribbons of the orders."
The jemsik, taking out his flint and steel, struck a light, and whileDiabolka puffed at it with distended cheeks, the two men simultaneouslyread out the name engraven on the ribbon--"Jevgen Araktseieff."
"By Jove! The son of our trusty Araktseieff, too, plies the trade,"cried Jakuskin.
"He is a known _mauvais sujet_."
"Well, Diabolka, this is a fine catch. For this you may claim to-morrowevery penny Jevgen has robbed overnight."
"And next day I should be as poor as ever," laughed the girl.
"If you chose, this order might make you Jevgen's wife--a realcountess," put in Pushkin.
"What would be the good of that? In a week after I should be going backto the gypsies."
"Do you mean to expose him--to have him hanged?"
"I am not such a fool; they would hang me beside him. Leave it to me. Iknow what to do with my prize."
Jakuskin said to Pushkin, in German, that Diabolka might not understand:
"That man wrecked my whole life; and I had him at my pistol's mouth butnow! But the ball is destined for another now. You see, I did not evenbreak out into fury when I read his name. When we are on the watch forbears we can afford to let foxes go. The huntsman's spear is on hisneck. He is in Diabolka's clutches. Come, let us go to the Bear's Paw,and hear Germain's new effusion, _The Song of the Knife_."