by Mór Jókai
CHAPTER XLIV
THE MAN WITH THE GREEN EYES
There was alarm, almost panic, in the capital when the news became knownthat the Czar had started by the Sea of Azof and the Crimea to theCaucasus! Now people understood the meaning of the comet! It was theagent which had upset the calculations of wise men and fools alike.
Fearful curses echoed through the catacombs of the Church of the HolyVirgin of Kasan when it became known that the Czar had changed his plansand gone to Alexander Nevski Chapel! The plots, the fulfilment of whichwas to shake the world, had been a failure! The Czar had left St.Petersburg and betaken himself to a remote spot nineteen hundred verstsaway, nearer by thirteen degrees to the equator. He had betaken himselfto a land where conspiracies do not flourish; he had escaped the gianttrap laid for him. The plot of the "Free Slavs" had come to naught,which was to have begun the work of freedom with the immediate murderof the Czar. Now the plot formed by the "Northern Union" came to thefore, which was to carry out the constitution planned by "the greenbook," either by forcing the Czar to initiate it or by his exile. Ineither case, without violence to the crown.
The Czar started on September 13th, seven days before the date fixed forthe grand review. By this means the net of the military conspiracy wasalso rudely torn asunder.
The members of the Szojusz Blagadenztoiga hastened to confer atZeneida's palace, not waiting invitation. What was to be done now?
Twenty-three among the twenty-four said the whole thing must be begunafresh. The four-and-twentieth was Jakuskin, who said:
"If all of you fall away, I remain firm. Discuss as you choose; I act."And with these words he left the meeting.
Hence the chase had begun. As the hungry wolf pursues the hare throughsteppes, forests, marshes, so Jakuskin pursued his prey.
The Czar had a six hours' start of his enemy, who fully expected to getover the ground quickly enough to come up with him. He had a strongCaucasian mare accustomed to do its twenty hours a day and then graze onany grass at hand. The rider was worthy of his horse; he, too, couldcontent himself with a piece of bread and bacon, and take his fourhours' sleep under any shrub by the wayside.
But the pursued went fast. Every day the Czar covered one hundred andfifty kilometres--_i.e._, a twenty hours' post--only allowing himselffour hours' sleep. He was also accompanied by a large escort; but thatwas no impediment to Jakuskin's plan.
Once to stand face to face with him was all he needed. He knew the wayin which the Czar travelled. First a picket of Cossacks, well in advanceof the rest of the cortege, that the Czar might not be incommoded by thedust of their horses' feet. Then in the first carriage the Czar, easilyto be recognized by his coachman, Ilias, his long beard fluttering likea couple of flags on either side the carriage. With him is his adjutant,Count Wolkonsky. The Count is a small, undersized man; the Czar a man ofsplendid physique--tall, athletic, with a head small in proportion tohis size. Impossible not to recognize him.
If only Jakuskin could get in advance of his intended victim! But thishe could not do. The pursuer's worst hinderance was the moonlight,which, turning night into day, enabled the imperial cortege to travelcontinuously, and thus prevented his stealing a march. Fortunately, onthe seventh day, when they reached Kursk, the sky suddenly clouded overand stormy weather set in. The moon no longer replaced the sun, anddriving by night was impossible--but not riding.
This gave hopes of overtaking the Czar. But these hopes also were doomedto be frustrated.
He was to experience that nothing is impossible to the great of theearth. When the Czar is in haste even darkness must yield. Once whenJakuskin, galloping in the pitch darkness over breakneck paths, had gotnearly up with the escort, it was but to see that the Czar's way wasilluminated. Men carrying lighted torches were riding on either side ofthe imperial carriage.
"All the better!" thought Jakuskin to himself. But when he reached thehigh-road, he saw that as far as the eye reached, at a distance ofthree hundred paces, were fagot heaps, serfs standing beside them withlighted matches; and as the Czar approached, one fagot heap afteranother, blazing up, lighted the way. This went on till break of day.The Czar rattled over the ground by artificial light.
Thus the wolf hangs back, gnashing his hungry teeth, when he seesfire-light. These bonfires along the highway destroyed his calculations.He must give up the pursuit; now he might allow himself time for sleep.
He did not move from the hut in which he had taken shelter for a wholeweek, till the second cortege came up with the Czarina. She travelledmore slowly; that which had taken the Czar twelve days she accomplishedin twenty-four. Jakuskin followed on her track. The journey came to anend at Taganrog.
Taganrog is a seaport on the Sea of Azof. It is a modest little townwhich has twice been entirely deserted by its inhabitants, having oncebeen made over by the Russians to the Turks; the next time, atconclusion of peace, by the Sultan of Turkey to the Czar. At present itis inhabited by Greeks. It was only due to the chance throw of a knifethat it did not form the site of the capital of the empire. When CzarPeter conceived the idea of founding a new capital on the sea he was indoubt whether to build it in the Finnish marshes or the Tartar steppes.The throwing of a knife decided it. If it had fallen point downwardTaganrog would now be St. Petersburg, and the cupolas of Isaac Cathedralwould be reflected in the Sea of Azof instead of in the Neva.
Jakuskin knew beforehand that the Czarina would not be staying here.There was not a single garden in the whole town. No one planted a treelest his neighbor should gather the fruit. The first cutting wind thatblew would teach the Czarina's physicians that a place is not Italybecause it happens to be a certain latitude. The Czar would seek someplace in his vast empire for his beloved invalid to rest where the treesare green all the year round. He has two places to choose between,Georgia and the Crimea--both countries a paradise to the Russians, whofor eight months in the year are accustomed to see nothing but iciclesabout them.
Hardly had the Empress Elisabeth installed herself in the castle atTaganrog when the Czar started upon his voyage of discovery. He set outin the direction of Novocserkask.
Jakuskin concluded that he would go on to the Caucasus. All preparationswere made to that end--post-horses and escorts bespoken as far asTiflis. Easy to choose a point where to lie in ambush.
But the Governor of the Crimea, Prince Woronzoff, came, and had so muchto tell of the lovely climate and surroundings of the Crimea that theCzar, suddenly altering his itinerary, turned back; and Jakuskin onlyfirst knew of the change when he had got on a day's journey before theCzar.
Once more he posted after him until he reached the marshes of the DeadSea, where the evil spirits of malaria await the traveller. He did notcatch up with the Czar until his arrival at Simpheropol, reaching it atthe very moment when the whole city was blazing with illuminations inhonor of its illustrious guest.
But the Czar did not go out again to enjoy the brilliant sight. Tiredout, he had gone to bed. Jakuskin learned that the horses were orderedearly next morning; the Czar was going to visit Prince Woronzoff'sfar-famed palace in Jusuff.
Jakuskin caught up the carriages at Bagdar; they were empty. Leaving hiscarriage to pursue its way along the high-road, the Czar, on horseback,accompanied by his escort, had taken the steep mountain-path of TsatirDagh, a distance of some five-and-thirty versts.
The Czar's whole journey was conducted in as capricious a manner as ifit had been dictated by some one knowing that he was being pursued, andas if this zig-zag progress from valley to valley by impassable pathswere intended to deceive.
And how many favorable opportunities had Jakuskin missed! The Czar hadfelt so free from care among the simple Mohammedan populace that he hadwandered for hours on foot and on horseback among the exquisite gardensand woods. As he strolled along the lovely valley of Oriander, in fullbloom, he had said, meditatively, "Here I would fain spend the rest ofmy days!" Torturing care, melancholy's dark phantom, found no placehere; they were as effectually scared away as were th
e conspirators. Athis physician's earnest entreaty, at length leaving the sea-coast, heturned to the interior of the peninsula, to the whilom capital of theTartar Sultan, Bakcsi Seraj; and in the palace of the former Ghiraidspassed the night.
All through that night and the following day there sat at the gate ofthe palace, beneath the cypresses which have made Bakcsi Seraj sofamous, a dervish. That dervish was Jakuskin.
At length he had found the Czar. Wrapping himself in his burnous, he satand waited until the Czar should come forth. He is certain of hisobject. In his girdle glistens a good sharp dagger. His hand does nottremble.
And yet once more the Czar escapes him. He passed close to him; hisdress brushed him by, and yet Jakuskin does not recognize him; for,dressed as a Tartar chief, the Czar had gone out of the palace quitealone, without attendant of any kind. Had he but been attended by asingle person Jakuskin must have detected him; but one man alone escapesnotice. The Czar had wished to visit the "Valley of Tears," about whichthe bridegroom of his favorite child had written. This romantic fancyhad saved him from the assassin's knife. Thence he went, still in thesame dress, to a Mohammedan mosque and stayed through a Moslem service.After which, not returning to the palace, he met his retinue at theStadtholder's castle. There he found a despatch containing news of thedeath of King Maximilian of Bavaria, brother-in-law to the Czarina.
Alexander was alarmed. Should this news have reached his wife it might,in her delicate state of health, have seriously affected her. So, givingcommand to start instantly, he did not return to the palace.
The dervish sitting at the gate awaited his prey in vain. When at lengthhe heard that the Czar had gone, the latter had already got aconsiderable way towards the other side of the isthmus.
And now the pursuit began once more, and with it came to his mind thesaying, "For him who has been chosen by the man with the green eyes itis in vain to whet the knife." He was growing superstitious--hisimagination filled with green-eyed spectres.
The Czar pursued his way by the Dnieper, thence through the NogaiSteppe, and over the silk-growing plains of Mariopolis to the shores ofthe Sea of Azof, where his beloved consort was awaiting him.
Jakuskin followed close upon his track. As he crossed a bridge, afterpassing Orekhov, his horse, stumbling, broke his leg. Jakuskin had toproceed on foot. It was not far from the post-house; thither he went. Ahorse he must have at any price.
The postmaster led him to the stable.
"Look, my lord, I have not a horse left. The Czar has just passedthrough; every horse I had has been taken for himself and retinue."
"And that one in the corner?"
"That horse is not mine. It belongs to a courier just arrived from Kiew,who went at once to bed and is fast asleep."
"A courier who can allow himself to sleep on the way cannot have anyvery urgent business. Perhaps I can persuade him, for some good goldpieces, to sleep on until I have reached Mariopolis on his horse, whenceit shall be sent back to him."
"You can try it, my lord!" It was not such an unheard-of thing in Russiafor a courier to sell his horse from under him.
"If he will not lend me his horse I'll put a bullet through him,"muttered Jakuskin to himself as he entered the guest-chamber.
A young officer of a lancer regiment lay on the bed wrapped in hiscloak.
"Good-day, comrade," said Jakuskin.
"Don't talk of good days," returned he, his teeth chattering. "I amshivering all over. That confounded Caucasian fever has laid hold of meon the road. It's all up with me. And I had a despatch to deliver intothe hands of the Czar himself wherever I might come up with him. GeneralRoth sent me--delay is most serious. And I cannot sit my horse! I say,my dear fellow, do me a good turn and take charge of this despatch.Take my horse. The Czar has gone to Taganrog Hasten after him! Give himthis despatch--into his own hands. Those were my orders! As for me, Ishall only be able to report myself to him in the next world. Lose notime, I entreat you."
Nothing could have been more welcome to Jakuskin. A despatch which mustbe delivered into the Czar's own hands--the Czar!
"Heaven be with you, comrade! You may die with an easy mind. I willfaithfully carry out your commission; and if you have a betrothed I willwrite her where you breathed your last, and will send your mother yourwatch and chain. You could not have found a better substitute."
The officer probably died and was buried in that picturesque steppe.Jakuskin, mounting his horse, placed the despatch intrusted to him inhis breast-pocket.
But the horse given over to him was a sorry jade, and not accustomed, ashis other had been, to the steppes. He could make but few miles a day,and whenever he came to a bridge his rider had to dismount and drag theanimal across. He would not go over a bridge.
Owing to such a bad mount he did not reach Taganrog until four daysafter the arrival of the Czar.
One day Jakuskin found out that the Czar intended going from Alapka toMordinof. Now there was but one road to it, and that only abridle-path--a path called by the natives "the ladder." It well meritedits cognomen, rising so steeply up the mountain-side that sometimes thehorse has to force its way through narrow clefts in the rock.
Jakuskin hired a Tartar guide, who was to lead him through the forest tothe summit of "the ladder."
Before dawn, in the dead of night, he made his start, to be there beforethe Czar. He was dressed in the costume of a Tartar huntsman, adouble-barrelled gun slung over his shoulder. Emerging from the thickforest, he saw the steep mountain path before him. Over a spring,gushing from out the rocky wall, grew a bush some ten feet distant fromthe path. The path itself was intercepted here by a cleft in the rock,across which a narrow bridge had been thrown, only wide enough for onehorseman to pass at a time.
The most favorable spot possible for an ambush.
"Hi, lad! How green your eyes are!"
The man laughed a hollow, low laugh, as though out of an empty cask.
"You're right; my eyes are green." He spoke, and disappeared in thethick underwood.
Bethsaba's tale came into Jakuskin's mind. He drew back behind the tree,loaded his gun, and waited.
A vulture flew over him with hoarse scream; he took the waiting man fora corpse, so motionless was he.
At length was heard the long-expected signal. The path groaned beneaththe tramp of horses. The horsemen must perforce pass quite close to him.He could aim as slowly as he pleased.
Only when the horsemen came up did he see how he had been the sport offate. They were only outriders; the company passed; the Czar was notamong them.
Where could he be?
"Confound you, you fellow, with your green eyes!" said Jakuskin, with anoath. "You will be making me into a superstitious fool!"
There was no sign of the Czar. He had escaped.
* * * * *
It is a delicious autumn day, such as is only to be met with in theenchantingly beautiful mountains of Tauris. The air is so pure that thedistant ranges are brought near; silvery threads of gossamer flutterfrom every branch; the autumnal tints are an exquisite mixture of goldand red; the turf is strewn with pink anemones. That little spot ofearth is the orchard of the world. There is a perfect forest offruit-trees here, groaning under their ripe loads. Fallen apples andpears cover the ground. Blackbirds sing their praises to the owner ofthe woods, who grudges of his plenty neither to the wanderer nor to thebirds of the air. The giant trees, which in other countries only bringforth wild pears, are here laden with luscious fruit sweet as honey.What can be gathered with the hand is the passer-by's; the rest is theproperty of the owner.
Czar Alexander was delighted with the wealth of fruit in thisfairy-land. He began to believe in Bethsaba's fairy stories.
In one place, where the path led up through two rocky walls, the soundof bells came wafted down below.
The Czar, accosting a Tartar who was coming down the rocky path towardshim, asked:
"Where are those bells which are ringing?"
"In St. G
eorge's Monastery," was the answer.
"Who built a monastery in this wilderness?"
"It is the former Temple of Diana. Among its ruins the black monks, whocame here from Mount Athos, have settled."
"So this is, then, the famous Temple of Diana in Tauris?" returned theCzar, suddenly recalling to memory the tradition of the lovely priestessof Artemis, Iphigenia, of whom poets from Euripides down to Goethe havesung. "And is this temple a monastery now?"
The Czar never passed by a church without entering it. And here was anattraction over and beyond his yearning for the sacred building. It wasa piece of historical antiquity, a relic of classic times, as well as aChristian asylum in a Mohammedan province.
"How does one get to the monastery?" he asked the Tartar.
"By a footpath which forks off from the ascent and leads round past themonastery to the regular path again. The horses would have to be senton; the way can be only accomplished on foot. It is somewhat difficultto find. I could guide you."
The Czar was now more than ever anxious to see it; so, alighting fromhis horse, he ascended the path with the guide to the Temple of Diana.It led through a thick forest. On either side picturesque groups oftrees lined the way; wild vines festooned the branches, forming a greenroof overhead, from which hung bunches of little round grapes, called inTartar language "kacsi." Other fruit-bearing trees abounded; among themtowered two thorn-bushes bearing plums--the one rosy red, the otherwaxen yellow. The yellow plum has a large stone; the red one grows inthe form of a grape, like cherry-plums.
"What do you call this fruit?" the Czar asked his guide.
"The yellow is called 'alirek,' the red 'isziumirek.'"
"Gather me some. I should like to taste them."
The guide, hastily breaking off some blackberry leaves, formed them intoa basket and filled it with red and yellow plums.
The Czar was heated from the mountain ascent, and thirsty. The ripe,juicy fruit, with its pleasant acid, was very grateful to him. He leftnone. Only on returning the empty basket to his guide was he struck bysomething in the man's appearance.
"Countryman, what peculiar green eyes you have!"
"Yes, so people say. I have never seen my own eyes."
After an hour's walking the Czar and his attendant reached the classicruins, now the monastery. He was wet through with perspiration from theexertion of the long climb on a hot autumn day; still overheated, hepassed through the subterranean passages, visited the caves at one timeappropriated to youths destined for sacrifice, and those secrethiding-places cut out of the rock whence Orestes had formerly stolen thegolden statue of Artemis. After which he visited the chapel and remainedsome time in prayer.
On leaving the monastery he sent to seek his guide, but he was nowhereto be found. No one had noticed when he left them. The monks themselvesconducted the Czar through the woods on the way to "the ladder," wherehis horse and horsemen awaited him.
Thus the Czar avoided passing the yew-tree where Jakuskin lay in waitfor him.
That same day the Czar was forced to confess to his physician that hewas feeling a strange languor in all his limbs, accompanied by attacksof shivering. But he would not be persuaded to take any remedies, sayingit would pass off of itself, and continued his journey.
He visited the ancient Akhtia, which now bears the high-sounding name ofSebastopol, was present at the launch of a man-of-war, and inspected thePontus fleet. Despite the recurrence of fever, he was untiringlyoccupied throughout the day; late in the evening he again went into thechurch to pray.
When Jakuskin took the despatch from the dying messenger and placed itin his bosom the thought flashed through his mind that it might carryinfection; but he dismissed it with:
"Bah! How ridiculous to fear a scrap of folded paper!"
And yet Jakuskin would have done himself and his friends better servicehad he taken to his bosom one of the horned serpents which lie in waitfor the traveller by the side of ditches, or in coach-tracks, ratherthan that piece of paper.
He thought to himself, "Let the despatch contain what it may, as long asI deliver it to the man for whom it is intended!"
The story of the despatch was this:
In the Southern Army all preparations had been made for the proclamationof the Constitution. Pestel--called the Russian Riego--had up to now wonover one thousand officers, including even generals, to the conspiracy.Pestel himself had been chosen as the future Dictator, who, with theSouthern Army, was to hasten to aid in proclaiming the Greek Republic;while Ghedimin, as civil governor, was to construct the new republicwithin the empire. It had been planned that on January 1st, 1826, the"Viatka" regiment commanded by Pestel should march into the headquartersof Tultsin. And that very day every officer not among the conspiratorsshould be slaughtered. From Tultsin they were to rush on to Kiew, takethe commandant of the First Army Corps, General Osten-Sacken, prisoner;proclaim the Republic; incite the Poles to rebellion, and declare theabdication of the Czar. Entire regiments of infantry, hussars, andartillery had been won over to this scheme, the commandants never evendreaming what was going on about them. Privates were won over by beingtold that the "German" officers were to be massacred. To massacre theGermans is naturally always a popular idea. The generals at the head ofthe army, Osten-Sacken, Wittgenstein, Roth, Diebitsch, were all Germans.
The whole of this bold plot had been wrecked by the weakness of one man.One among a thousand, a certain Captain Mairoboda, could not act againsthis conscience, and confided to his commandant, General Roth, the wholedetails of the conspiracy, giving the names of the superior officers,the leaders of the whole affair.
General Roth had written fully to the Czar, sending his report by anofficer to his imperial master at Taganrog.
The officer was seized by fever on the way, which quickly turned totyphus; he was unable to press on to Taganrog. Fate brought Jakuskinthat way, that he might be the one to replace the broken wheel of itschariot. Such were the contents of the despatch he had undertaken todeliver. With it in his bosom he was himself converted into a witnessagainst his fellow-conspirators.
When at last he pulled up his poor staggering horse at the gates of theimperial castle at Taganrog, his first question to the officer on guardwas if the Czar were here?
The answer was that the Czar was here, and had not left his room forsome days past. It was understood that the Czar was ill, but scarce fourhours since an imperial messenger had been despatched to carry thejoyful news to the Czar's mother that last night his illness hadsuddenly taken a favorable turn and he was recovering.
"Heaven be thanked!" sighed Jakuskin, while his hand sought his dagger.
Every circumstance combined to favor his awful scheme. The guard ofhonor of the imperial palace happened to have been taken from the"Viatka" regiment, both officers and men of whom had been won over tothe conspirators. Well-known faces on all sides gave him secret looks ofintelligence.
With determined tread he hastened up the staircase. The two grenadierson guard at the door of the Czar's room, saluting, let him pass.
In the anteroom was the officer on duty, who greeted him by name as afriend.
"I seek the Czar, with an urgent despatch."
"Go through. You will find there Adjutant Diebitsch, who will announceyou."
Jakuskin opened the door. At the same time the door was opened from theinside, and the man coming out and the one going in met on thethreshold.
Jakuskin trembled. The face before him had _green eyes_. Or was it onlyhis fancy? The man was wearing a Tartar costume; his expression at onceso singular, awe-inspiring, defiant, arrogant! Contempt, scorn, andsorrow mingled in his look; his eyes glittered like green beetles. As hepushed by, an icy shudder passed through Jakuskin.
Jakuskin staggered.
"I say!" he exclaimed to the officer, as he pointed to the man passingthrough, "who is that fellow?"
"Some messenger or other."
"Did you not notice what green eyes he has?"
"'Pon my word, no. Wh
at the deuce do his green eyes concern you?"
Jakuskin passed on to the inner room. Here he found Diebitsch sitting ata table writing. He seemed in haste, for he did not raise his head.
"Am I permitted to go in to the Czar?"
"You are."
"Is he alone?"
"Alone."
"What is he doing?"
"Sleeping."
"I am the bearer of an urgent despatch to him. May I wake him?"
"Wake him."
The general did not look up from his writing--did not observe to whom hewas speaking. Jakuskin resolutely approached the door of the adjoiningroom. It seemed remarkable that the man he had addressed had notperceived, by the wild beating of his heart, what he was meditating! Adoor only separated him from his victim--and that door stood open!
The Czar was already very ill on his return to Taganrog. Still he wouldhear of no remedies. It is a characteristic trait of Russian czars todefy illness. They will not believe that Death (their chief agent), whohas been so long in their service, who at their word of command has mowndown rows of men like ears of corn, should ever--brandishing his scythebackward--cut down his lord and master. They are far too proud toconcede that the pale spectre should ever see their weakness, hear theirgroans, limit their wills. Even Death, when he knocks at their door,they would bid to "wait."
Or, was it not so? Was it that the great colossal figure which, like asecond Atlas, had so long borne the whole world on its shoulders, hadgrown weary of the burden? That he who had been accustomed to hear hispraises echoed from the four corners of the earth now shrank fromhearing the murmurs born of revenge and bitterness, and that his soulyearned for the rest of the grave? Earth has nothing more for him todo. He feels that he stands in the way of history. He has lost all thathis heart held dear; his last ray of sunshine, his sick wife's smile, isbut a fading light in the sky of evening. Is it not possible that thegiant, weary of life, and becoming aware of a call to another world,should, far from shutting out that call, open wide the doors, saying,"Here am I--let us go"?
That day he had so far recovered that his illness seemed entirely tohave disappeared. Even his physician was deceived by the outwardsymptoms; and late that evening a courier had been despatched to theDowager Czarina in St. Petersburg with the glad news, "Alexander out ofall danger. No further fears for him." (None further than some hundredthousand attempts at assassination.)
But the next morning the benevolent spirit, which comes alike to kingsand beggars to ease them of their burdens, had appeared to him, saying,"Come home." For three days and nights Elisabeth had not left her sickhusband's room. She was his constant nurse, her wifely affection his oneconsolation.
And to the Czar of All the Russias was granted the happiness--at themoment when every arm was turned against him, when the altar itself atwhich he prayed was undermined, when a whole vast empire was about tocrumble to pieces about him--that for the last time, by the rays of therising sun, with the life-giving warmth of the day-star bathing hisbrow, he could yield up his soul to Him who gave it with the words "_Ah,le beau jour!_"--the happiness of having tender hands to close his eyes,and to cross his arms upon his breast.
Then the sick wife's strength broke down entirely, and she sankswooning to the ground. The two physicians, hastening to her, liftedher, and carried her to her apartment. The third man, who had beenwitness to the dying scene, hastened back to the study to send off thedespatch to the Czarina-mother announcing the death of the Czar, givingthe messenger instructions to make all speed in order to overtake thecourier of the previous night, and, if possible, precede him. Afterwhich his next care was to send off a letter to the Grand DukeConstantine, in Warsaw.
At that moment Jakuskin had entered.
Diebitsch hastened on with his writing, his mood that of Russian cynicalhumor. "What is the Czar doing?" "Sleeping." "Dare I wake him?" "Wakehim if you like!"
Or had there been something in Jakuskin's face which betrayed his plans,and was that why the adjutant's utterances had been framed sosarcastically?
* * * * *
The conspirator advanced into the room. At that moment no one else wasthere. The Czar was alone. Jakuskin saw him whom he had been seekinglying before him--silent, motionless, with eyes closed, his arms foldedon his breast.
A mighty man--invulnerable--dead. Jakuskin dared not draw nearer. Beforethe dead Czar he trembled.
He rushed staggering back into the adjacent room, holding the despatchstill in his hand.
"The Czar--" he stammered.
"Is dead!"
"When?"
"In this very hour."
"Why did I not arrive one day sooner, in order to deliver up thisdespatch to him!"
The adjutant thought this exclamation somewhat odd.
"I give you a piece of advice," said he to Jakuskin. "Make this letterinto a bullet, and shoot yourself through the head, and you willovertake him yet."
In truth, no bad piece of advice! Jakuskin would have done better had hefollowed it; instead, he dashed the despatch on the table, and flungfrom the room, uttering curses on his fate.
At the gate of the palace he again came across the man of the green eyesin the act of mounting his horse. Looking at him with his cat-like eyes,he laughed.
"You came too late, eh?" cried he, and, driving his spurs into hishorse's sides, dashed away.
Jakuskin shivered and trembled in every limb.
Elisabeth, as soon as she had recovered from her swoon, went back to herdead, and wrote the following letter to the Czarina-mother from thechamber of death:
"BELOVED MOTHER,--Our angel is already in heaven, and I still am left on earth. Who would have thought that I, the invalid, should have outlived him? Mother, do not forsake me, who now stand alone in this world of care and suffering. Our beloved has recovered all his sweetness of expression in death; the smile upon his face shows that he is looking upon more lovely things in the next world than here on earth. My one consolation is that I shall not long survive him, and shall soon be reunited to him."
Her presentiment was a true one. Next spring brought her to that landwhere Czar and serf alike are happy and there is no difference betweenthem.