V. BY ROULETABILLE'S ORDER THE GENERAL PROMENADES
"Good morning, my dear little familiar spirit. The general sleptsplendidly the latter part of the night. He did not touch his narcotic.I am sure it is that dreadful mixture that gives him such frightfuldreams. And you, my dear little friend, you have not slept an instant.I know it. I felt you going everywhere about the house like a littlemouse. Ah, it seems good, so good. I slept so peacefully, hearing thesubdued movement of your little steps. Thanks for the sleep you havegiven me, little friend."
Matrena talked on to Rouletabille, whom she had found the morning afterthe nightmare tranquilly smoking his pipe in the garden.
"Ah, ah, you smoke a pipe. Now you do certainly look exactly like a dearlittle domovoi-doukh. See how much you are alike. He smokes just likeyou. Nothing new, eh? You do not look very bright this morning. You areworn out. I have just arranged the little guest-chamber for you, theonly one we have, just behind mine. Your bed is waiting for you. Isthere anything you need? Tell me. Everything here is at your service."
"I'm not in need of anything, madame," said the young man smilingly,after this outpouring of words from the good, heroic dame.
"How can you say that, dear child? You will make yourself sick. I wantyou to understand that I wish you to rest. I want to be a mother to you,if you please, and you must obey me, my child. Have you had breakfastyet this morning? If you do not have breakfast promptly mornings, I willthink you are annoyed. I am so annoyed that you have heard the secret ofthe night. I have been afraid that you would want to leave at once andfor good, and that you would have mistaken ideas about the general.There is not a better man in the world than Feodor, and he must havea good, a very good conscience to dare, without fail, to perform suchterrible duties as those at Moscow, when he is so good at heart. Thesethings are easy enough for wicked people, but for good men, for good menwho can reason it out, who know what they do and that they are condemnedto death into the bargain, it is terrible, it is terrible! Why, I toldhim the moment things began to go wrong in Moscow, 'You know what toexpect, Feodor. Here is a dreadful time to get through--make out you aresick.' I believed he was going to strike me, to kill me on the spot.'I! Betray the Emperor in such a moment! His Majesty, to whom I oweeverything! What are you thinking of, Matrena Petrovna!' And he didnot speak to me after that for two days. It was only when he saw I wasgrowing very ill that he pardoned me, but he had to be plagued with myjeremiads and the appealing looks of Natacha without end in his ownhome each time we heard any shooting in the street. Natacha attended thelectures of the Faculty, you know. And she knew many of them, and evensome of those who were being killed on the barricades. Ah, life was noteasy for him in his own home, the poor general! Besides, there was alsoBoris, whom I love as well, for that matter, as my own child, because Ishall be very happy to see him married to Natacha--there was poor Boriswho always came home from the attacks paler than a corpse and who couldnot keep from moaning with us."
"And Michael?" questioned Rouletabille.
"Oh, Michael only came towards the last. He is a new orderly to thegeneral. The government at St. Petersburg sent him, because of coursethey couldn't help learning that Boris rather lacked zeal in repressingthe students and did not encourage the general in being as severe as wasnecessary for the safety of the Empire. But Michael, he has a heart ofstone; he knows nothing but the countersign and massacres fathers andmothers, crying, 'Vive le Tsar!' Truly, it seems his heart can only betouched by the sight of Natacha. And that again has caused a good dealof anxiety to Feodor and me. It has caught us in a useless complicationthat we would have liked to end by the prompt marriage of Natacha andBoris. But Natacha, to our great surprise, has not wished it to be so.No, she has not wished it, saying that there is always time to thinkof her wedding and that she is in no hurry to leave us. Meantime sheentertains herself with this Michael as if she did not fear his passion,and neither has Michael the desperate air of a man who knows thedefinite engagement of Natacha and Boris. And my step-daughter is not acoquette. No, no. No one can say she is a coquette. At least, no one hadbeen able to say it up to the time that Michael arrived. Can it bethat she is a coquette? They are mysterious, these young girls, verymysterious, above all when they have that calm and tranquil look thatNatacha always has; a face, monsieur, as you have noticed perhaps, whosebeauty is rather passive whatever one says and does, excepting when thevolleys in the streets kill her young comrades of the schools. Then Ihave seen her almost faint, which proves she has a great heart underher tranquil beauty. Poor Natacha! I have seen her excited as I over thelife of her father. My little friend, I have seen her searching in themiddle of the night, with me, for infernal machines under the furniture,and then she has expressed the opinion that it is nervous, childish,unworthy of us to act like that, like timid beasts under the sofas, andshe has left me to search by myself. True, she never quits the general.She is more reassured, and is reassuring to him, at his side. It hasan excellent moral effect on him, while I walk about and search like abeast. And she has become as fatalistic as he, and now she sings versesto the guzla, like Boris, or talks in corners with Michael, which makesthe two enraged each with the other. They are curious, the young womenof St. Petersburg and Moscow, very curious. We were not like that in ourtime, at Orel. We did not try to enrage people. We would have received abox on the ears if we had."
Natacha came in upon this conversation, happy, in white voile, fresh andsmiling like a girl who had passed an excellent night. She asked afterthe health of the young man very prettily and embraced Matrena, in truthas one embraces a much-beloved mother. She complained again of Matrena'snight-watch.
"You have not stopped it, mamma; you have not stopped it, eh? You arenot going to be a little reasonable at last? I beg of you! What hasgiven me such a mother! Why don't you sleep? Night is made for sleep.Koupriane has upset you. All the terrible things are over in Moscow.There is no occasion to think of them any more. That Koupriane makeshimself important with his police-agents and obsesses us all. I amconvinced that the affair of the bouquet was the work of his police."
"Mademoiselle," said Rouletabille, "I have just had them all sent away,all of them--because I think very much the same as you do."
"Well, then, you will be my friend, Monsieur Rouletabille I promise you,since you have done that. Now that the police are gone we have nothingmore to fear. Nothing. I tell you, mamma; you can believe me and notweep any more, mamma dear."
"Yes, yes; kiss me. Kiss me again!" repeated Matrena, drying her eyes."When you kiss me I forget everything. You love me like your own mother,don't you?"
"Like my mother. Like my own mother."
"You have nothing to hide from me?--tell me, Natacha."
"Nothing to hide."
"Then why do you make Boris suffer so? Why don't you marry him?"
"Because I don't wish to leave you, mamma dear."
She escaped further parley by jumping up on the garden edge away fromKhor, who had just been set free for the day.
"The dear child," said Matrena; "the dear little one, she little knowshow much pain she has caused us without being aware of it, by her ideas,her extravagant ideas. Her father said to me one day at Moscow, 'MatrenaPetrovna, I'll tell you what I think--Natacha is the victim of thewicked books that have turned the brains of all these poor rebelliousstudents. Yes, yes; it would be better for her and for us if she did notknow how to read, for there are moments--my word!--when she talks verywildly, and I have said to myself more than once that with such ideasher place is not in our salon hut behind a barricade. All the same,' headded after reflection, 'I prefer to find her in the salon where I canembrace her than behind a barricade where I would kill her like a maddog.' But my husband, dear little monsieur, did not say what he reallythinks, for he loves his daughter more than all the rest of the worldput together, and there are things that even a general, yes, even agovernor-general, would not be able to do without violating both divineand human laws. He suspects Boris also of setting Natacha's wit
s awry.We really have to consider that when they are married they will readeverything they have a mind to. My husband has much more real respectfor Michael Korsakoff because of his impregnable character and hisgranite conscience. More than once he has said, 'Here is the aide Ishould have had in the worst days of Moscow. He would have spared memuch of the individual pain.' I can understand how that would pleasethe general, but how such a tigerish nature succeeds in appealing toNatacha, how it succeeds in not actually revolting her, these younggirls of the capital, one never can tell about them--they get away fromall your notions of them."
Rouletabille inquired:
"Why did Boris say to Michael, 'We will return together'? Do they livetogether?"
"Yes, in the small villa on the Krestowsky Ostrov, the isle across fromours, that you can see from the window of the sitting-room. Boris choseit because of that. The orderlies wished to have camp-beds prepared forthem right here in the general's house, by a natural devotion to him;but I opposed it, in order to keep them both from Natacha, in whom,of course, I have the most complete confidence, but one cannot be sureabout the extravagance of men nowadays."
Ermolai came to announce the petit-dejeuner. They found Natacha alreadyat table and she poured them coffee and milk, eating away all the timeat a sandwich of anchovies and caviare.
"Tell me, mamma, do you know what gives me such an appetite? It is thethought of the way poor Koupriane must have taken this dismissal of hismen. I should like to go to see him."
"If you see him," said Rouletabille, "it is unnecessary to tell him thatthe general will go for a long promenade among the isles this afternoon,because without fail he would send us an escort of gendarmes."
"Papa! A promenade among the islands? Truly? Oh, that is going to belovely!"
Matrena Petrovna sprang to her feet.
"Are you mad, my dear little domovoi, actually mad?"
"Why? Why? It is fine. I must run and tell papa."
"Your father's room is locked," said Matrena brusquely.
"Yes, yes; he is locked in. You have the key. Locked away until death!You will kill him. It will be you who kills him."
She left the table without waiting for a reply and went and shut herselfalso in her chamber.
Matrena looked at Rouletabille, who continued his breakfast as thoughnothing had happened.
"Is it possible that you speak seriously?" she demanded, coming over andsitting down beside him. "A promenade! Without the police, when we havereceived again this morning a letter saying now that before forty-eighthours the general will be dead!"
"Forty-eight hours," said Rouletabille, soaking his bread in hischocolate, "forty-eight hours? It is possible. In any case, I know theywill try something very soon."
"My God, how is it that you believe that? You speak with assurance."
"Madame, it is necessary to do everything I tell you, to the letter."
"But to have the general go out, unless he is guarded--how can you takesuch a responsibility? When I think about it, when I really think aboutit, I ask myself how you have dared send away the police. But here, atleast, I know what to do in order to feel a little safe, I know thatdownstairs with Gniagnia and Ermolai we have nothing to fear. Nostranger can approach even the basement. The provisions are brought fromthe lodge by our dvornicks whom we have had sent from my mother's homein the Orel country and who are as devoted to us as bull-dogs. Nota bottle of preserves is taken into the kitchens without having beenpreviously opened outside. No package comes from any tradesman withoutbeing opened in the lodge. Here, within, we are able to feel a littlesafe, even without the police--but away from here--outside!"
"Madame, they are going to try to kill your husband within forty-eighthours. Do you desire me to save him perhaps for a long time--for good,perhaps?"
"Ah, listen to him! Listen to him, the dear little domovoi! But whatwill Koupriane say? He will not permit any venturing beyond the villa;none, at least for the moment. Ah, now, how he looks at me, the dearlittle domovoi! Oh, well, yes. There, I will do as you wish."
"Very well, come into the garden with me."
She accompanied him, leaning on his arm.
"Here's the idea," said Rouletabille. "This afternoon you will go withthe general in his rolling-chair. Everybody will follow. Everyone,you understand, Madame--understand me thoroughly, I mean to say thateveryone who wishes to come must be invited to. Only those who wishto remain behind will do so. And do not insist. Ah, now, I see, youunderstand me. Why do you tremble?"
"But who will guard the house?"
"No one. Simply tell the servant at the lodge to watch from thelodge those who enter the villa, but simply from the lodge, withoutinterfering with them, and saying nothing to them, nothing."
"I will do as you wish. Do you want me to announce our promenadebeforehand?"
"Why, certainly. Don't be uneasy; let everybody have the good news."
"Oh, I will tell only the general and his friends, you may be sure."
"Now, dear Madame, just one more word. Do not wait for me at luncheon."
"What! You are going to leave us?" she cried instantly, breathless. "No,no. I do not wish it. I am willing to do without the police, but I amnot willing to do without you. Everything might happen in your absence.Everything! Everything!" she repeated with singular energy. "Because,for me, I cannot feel sure as I should, perhaps. Ah, you make me saythese things. Such things! But do not go."
"Do not be afraid; I am not going to leave you, madame."
"Ah, you are good! You are kind, kind! Caracho! (Very well.)"
"I will not leave you. But I must not be at luncheon. If anyone askswhere I am, say that I have my business to look after, and have gone tointerview political personages in the city."
"There's only one political personage in Russia," replied MatrenaPetrovna bluntly; "that is the Tsar."
"Very well; say I have gone to interview the Tsar."
"But no one will believe that. And where will you be?"
"I do not know myself. But I will be about the house."
"Very well, very well, dear little domovoi."
She left him, not knowing what she thought about it all, nor what sheshould think--her head was all in a muddle.
In the course of the morning Athanase Georgevitch and ThaddeusTchnitchnikof arrived. The general was already in the veranda. Michaeland Boris arrived shortly after, and inquired in their turn how he hadpassed the night without the police. When they were told that Feodorwas going for a promenade that afternoon they applauded his decision."Bravo! A promenade a la strielka (to the head of the island) at thehour when all St. Petersburg is driving there. That is fine. We will allbe there." The general made them stay for luncheon. Natacha appeared forthe meal, in rather melancholy mood. A little before luncheon she hadheld a double conversation in the garden with Michael and Boris. No oneever could have known what these three young people had said if somestenographic notes in Rouletabille's memorandum-book did not give usa notion; the reporter had overheard, by accident surely, since allself-respecting reporters are quite incapable of eavesdropping.
The memorandum notes:
Natacha went into the garden with a book, which she gave to Boris, whopressed her hand lingeringly to his lips. "Here is your book; I returnit to you. I don't want any more of them, the ideas surge so in mybrain. It makes my head ache. It is true, you are right, I don't lovenovelties. I can satisfy myself with Pouchkine perfectly. The rest areall one to me. Did you pass a good night?"
Boris (good-looking young man, about thirty years old, blonde, a littleeffeminate, wistful. A curious appurtenance in the military household ofso vigorous a general). "Natacha, there is not an hour that I can calltruly good if I spend it away from you, dear, dear Natacha."
"I ask you seriously if you have passed a good night?"
She touched his hand a moment and looked into his eyes, but he shook hishead.
"What did you do last night after you reached home?" she demandedinsistently. "Did you stay up?"
"I obeyed you; I only sat a half-hour by the window looking over here atthe villa, and then I went to bed."
"Yes, it is necessary you should get your rest. I wish it for you asfor everyone else. This feverish life is impossible. Matrena Petrovna isgetting us all ill, and we shall be prostrated."
"Yesterday," said Boris, "I looked at the villa for a half-hour frommy window. Dear, dear villa, dear night when I can feel you breathing,living near me. As if you had been against my heart. I could have weptbecause I could hear Michael snoring in his chamber. He seemed happy.At last, I heard nothing more, there was nothing more to hear but thedouble chorus of frogs in the pools of the island. Our pools, Natacha,are like the enchanted lakes of the Caucasus which are silent by day andsing at evening; there are innumerable throngs of frogs which sing onthe same chord, some of them on a major and some on a minor. The chorusspeaks from pool to pool, lamenting and moaning across the fields andgardens, and re-echoing like AEolian harps placed opposite one another."
"Do AEolian harps make so much noise, Boris?"
"You laugh? I don't find you yourself half the time. It is Michael whohas changed you, and I am out of it. (Here they spoke in Russian.)I shall not be easy until I am your husband. I can't understand yourmanner with Michael at all."
(Here more Russian words which I do not understand.)
"Speak French; here is the gardener," said Natacha.
"I do not like the way you are managing our lives. Why do you delay ourmarriage? Why?"
(Russian words from Natacha. Gesture of desperation from Boris.)
"How long? You say a long time? But that says nothing--a long time. Howlong? A year? Two years? Ten years? Tell me, or I will kill myself atyour feet. No, no; speak or I will kill Michael. On my word! Like adog!"
"I swear to you, by the dear head of your mother, Boris, that the dateof our marriage does not depend on Michael."
(Some words in Russian. Boris, a little consoled, holds her handlingeringly to his lips.)
Conversation between Michael and Natacha in the garden:
"Well? Have you told him?"
"I ended at last by making him understand that there is not any hope.None. It is necessary to have patience. I have to have it myself."
"He is stupid and provoking."
"Stupid, no. Provoking, yes, if you wish. But you also, you areprovoking."
"Natacha! Natacha!"
(Here more Russian.) As Natacha started to leave, Michael placed hishand on her shoulder, stopped her and said, looking her direct in theeyes:
"There will be a letter from Annouchka this evening, by a messengerat five o'clock." He made each syllable explicit. "Very important andrequiring an immediate reply."
These notes of Rouletabille's are not followed by any commentary.
After luncheon the gentlemen played poker until half-past four, whichis the "chic" hour for the promenade to the head of the island.Rouletabille had directed Matrena to start exactly at a quarter to five.He appeared in the meantime, announcing that he had just interviewedthe mayor of St. Petersburg, which made Athanase laugh, who could notunderstand that anyone would come clear from Paris to talk with men likethat. Natacha came from her chamber to join them for the promenade. Herfather told her she looked too worried.
They left the villa. Rouletabille noted that the dvornicks were beforethe gate and that the schwitzar was at his post, from which he coulddetect everyone who might enter or leave the villa. Matrena pushed therolling-chair herself. The general was radiant. He had Natacha at hisright and at his left Athanase and Thaddeus. The two orderlies followed,talking with Rouletabille, who had monopolized them. The conversationturned on the devotion of Matrena Petrovna, which they placed above thefinest heroic traits in the women of antiquity, and also on Natacha'slove for her father. Rouletabille made them talk.
Boris Mourazoff explained that this exceptional love was accounted forby the fact that Natacha's own mother, the general's first wife, died ingiving birth to their daughter, and accordingly Feodor Feodorovitch hadbeen both father and mother to his daughter. He had raised her with themost touching care, not permitting anyone else, when she was sick, tohave the care of passing the nights by her bedside.
Natacha was seven years old when Feodor Feodorovitch was appointedgovernor of Orel. In the country near Orel, during the summer, thegeneral and his daughter lived on neighborly terms near the family ofold Petroff, one of the richest fur merchants in Russia. Old Petroffhad a daughter, Matrena, who was magnificent to see, like a beautifulfield-flower. She was always in excellent humor, never spoke ill ofanyone in the neighborhood, and not only had the fine manners of acity dame but a great, simple heart, which she lavished on the littleNatacha.
The child returned the affection of the beautiful Matrena, and it wason seeing them always happy to find themselves together that Trebassofdreamed of reestablishing his fireside. The nuptials were quicklyarranged, and the child, when she learned that her good Matrena was towed her papa, danced with joy. Then misfortune came only a few weeksbefore the ceremony. Old Petroff, who speculated on the Exchange for along time without anyone knowing anything about it, was ruined from topto bottom. Matrena came one evening to apprise Feodor Feodorovitch ofthis sad news and return his pledge to him. For all response Feodorplaced Natacha in Matrena's arms. "Embrace your mother," he said tothe child, and to Matrena, "From to-day I consider you my wife, MatrenaPetrovna. You should obey me in all things. Take that reply to yourfather and tell him my purse is at his disposition."
The general was already, at that time, even before he had inheritedthe Cheremaieff, immensely rich. He had lands behind Nijni as vast asa province, and it would have been difficult to count the number ofmoujiks who worked for him on his property. Old Pretroff gave hisdaughter and did not wish to accept anything in exchange. Feodor wishedto settle a large allowance on his wife; her father opposed that, andMatrena sided with him in the matter against her husband, because ofNatacha. "It all belongs to the little one," she insisted. "I accept theposition of her mother, but on the condition that she shall never lose akopeck of her inheritance."
"So that," concluded Boris, "if the general died tomorrow she would bepoorer than Job."
"Then the general is Matrena's sole resource," reflected Rouletabillealoud.
"I can understand her hanging onto him," said Michael Korsakoff, blowingthe smoke of his yellow cigarette. "Look at her. She watches him like atreasure."
"What do you mean, Michael Nikolaievitch?" said Boris, curtly."You believe, do you, that the devotion of Matrena Petrovna is notdisinterested. You must know her very poorly to dare utter such athought."
"I have never had that thought, Boris Alexandrovitch," replied the otherin a tone curter still. "To be able to imagine that anyone who livesin the Trebassofs' home could have such a thought needs an ass's head,surely."
"We will speak of it again, Michael Nikolaievitch."
"At your pleasure, Boris Alexandrovitch."
They had exchanged these latter words tranquilly continuing their walkand negligently smoking their yellow tobacco. Rouletabille was betweenthem. He did not regard them; he paid no attention even to theirquarrel; he had eyes only for Natacha, who just now quit her placebeside her father's wheel-chair and passed by them with a little nod ofthe head, seeming in haste to retrace the way back to the villa.
"Are you leaving us?" Boris demanded of her.
"Oh, I will rejoin you immediately. I have forgotten my umbrella."
"But I will go and get it for you," proposed Michael.
"No, no. I have to go to the villa; I will return right away."
She was already past them. Rouletabille, during this, looked at MatrenaPetrovna, who looked at him also, turning toward the young man a visagepale as wax. But no one else noted the emotion of the good Matrena, whoresumed pushing the general's wheel-chair.
Rouletabille asked the officers, "Was this arrangement because the firstwife of the general, Natacha's mother, was rich?"
"No. The
general, who always had his heart in his hand," said Boris,"married her for her great beauty. She was a beautiful girl of theCaucasus, of excellent family besides, that Feodor Feodorovitch hadknown when he was in garrison at Tiflis."
"In short," said Rouletabille, "the day that General Trebassof diesMadame Trebassof, who now possesses everything, will have nothing, andthe daughter, who now has nothing, will have everything."
"Exactly that," said Michael.
"That doesn't keep Matrena Petrovna and Natacha Feodorovna from deeplyloving each other," observed Boris.
The little party drew near the "Point." So far the promenade had beenalong pleasant open country, among the low meadows traversed by freshstreams, across which tiny bridges had been built, among bright gardensguarded by porcelain dwarfs, or in the shade of small weeds from thefeet of whose trees the newly-cut grass gave a seasonal fragrance. Allwas reflected in the pools--which lay like glass whereon a scene-painterhad cut the green hearts of the pond-lily leaves. An adorable countryglimpse which seemed to have been created centuries back for theamusement of a queen and preserved, immaculately trimmed and cleaned,from generation to generation, for the eternal charm of such an hour asthis on the banks of the Gulf of Finland.
Now they had reached the bank of the Gulf, and the waves rippled to theprows of the light ships, which dipped gracefully like huge and rapidsea-gulls, under the pressure of their great white sails.
Along the roadway, broader now, glided, silently and at walking pace,the double file of luxurious equipages with impatient horses, the opencarriages in which the great personages of the court saw the view andlet themselves be seen. Enormous coachmen held the reins high. Livelyyoung women, negligently reclining against the cushions, displayed theirnew Paris toilettes, and kept young officers on horseback busy withsalutes. There were all kinds of uniforms. No talking was heard.Everyone was kept busy looking. There rang in the pure, thin air onlythe noise of the champing bits and the tintinnabulation of the bellsattached to the hairy Finnish ponies' collars. And all that, sobeautiful, fresh, charming and clear, and silent, it all seemed morea dream than even that which hung in the pools, suspended between thecrystal of the air and the crystal of the water. The transparence of thesky and the transparence of the gulf blended their two unrealities sothat one could not note where the horizons met.
Rouletabille looked at the view and looked at the general, and in allhis young vibrating soul there was a sense of infinite sadness, for herecalled those terrible words in the night: "They have gone into all thecorners of the Russian land, and they have not found a single corner ofthat land where there are not moanings." "Well," thought he, "they havenot come into this corner, apparently. I don't know anything lovelier orhappier in the world." No, no, Rouletabille, they have not come here.In every country there is a corner of happy life, which the poor areashamed to approach, which they know nothing of, and of which merely thesight would turn famished mothers enraged, with their thin bosoms, and,if it is not more beautiful than that, certainly no part of the earthis made so atrocious to live in for some, nor so happy for others as inthis Scythian country, the boreal country of the world.
Meanwhile the little group about the general's rolling-chair hadattracted attention. Some passers-by saluted, and the news spreadquickly that General Trebassof had come for a promenade to "the Point."Heads turned as carriages passed; the general, noticing how muchexcitement his presence produced, begged Matrena Petrovna to push hischair into an adjacent by-path, behind a shield of trees where he wouldbe able to enjoy the spectacle in peace.
He was found, nevertheless, by Koupriane, the Chief of Police, who waslooking for him. He had gone to the datcha and been told there that thegeneral, accompanied by his friends and the young Frenchman, had gonefor a turn along the gulf. Koupriane had left his carriage at thedatcha, and taken the shortest route after them.
He was a fine man, large, solid, clear-eyed. His uniform showed his finebuild to advantage. He was generally liked in St. Petersburg, wherehis martial bearing and his well-known bravery had given him a sort ofpopularity in society, which, on the other hand, had great disdain forGounsovski, the head of the Secret Police, who was known to be capableof anything underhanded and had been accused of sometimes playing intothe hands of the Nihilists, whom he disguised as agents-provocateurs,without anybody really doubting it, and he had to fight against thesewidespread political suspicions.
Well-informed men declared that the death of the previous "primeminister," who had been blown up before Varsovie station when he was onhis way to the Tsar at Peterhof, was Gounsovski's work and that in thishe was the instrument of the party at court which had sworn the deathof the minister which inconvenienced it.* On the other hand, everyoneregarded Koupriane as incapable of participating in any such horrors andthat he contented himself with honest performance of his obvious duties,confining himself to ridding the streets of its troublesome elements,and sending to Siberia as many as he could of the hot-heads, withoutlowering himself to the compromises which, more than once, had givengrounds for the enemies of the empire to maintain that it was difficultto say whether the chiefs of the Russian police played the part of thelaw or that of the revolutionary party, even that the police had been atthe end of a certain time of such mixed procedure hardly able todecide themselves which they did.
* Rumored cause of Plehve's assassination.
This afternoon Koupriane appeared very nervous. He paid his complimentsto the general, grumbled at his imprudence, praised him for his bravery,and then at once picked out Rouletabille, whom he took aside to talk to.
"You have sent my men back to me," said he to the young reporter."You understand that I do not allow that. They are furious, and quiterightly. You have given publicly as explanation of their departure--adeparture which has naturally astonished, stupefied the general'sfriends--the suspicion of their possible participation in the lastattack. That is abominable, and I will not permit it. My men have notbeen trained in the methods of Gounsovski, and it does them a cruelinjury, which I resent, for that matter, personally, to treat them thisway. But let that go, as a matter of sentiment, and return to the simplefact itself, which proves your excessive imprudence, not to say more,and which involves you, you alone, in a responsibility of which youcertainly have not measured the importance. All in all, I consider thatyou have strangely abused the complete authority that I gave you uponthe Emperor's orders. When I learned what you had done I went to findthe Tsar, as was my duty, and told him the whole thing. He was moreastonished than can be expressed. He directed me to go myself to findout just how things were and to furnish the general the guard you hadremoved. I arrive at the isles and not only find the villa open like amill where anyone may enter, but I am informed, and then I see, that thegeneral is promenading in the midst of the crowd, at the mercy of thefirst miserable venturer. Monsieur Rouletabille, I am not satisfied. TheTsar is not satisfied. And, within an hour, my men will return to assumetheir guard at the datcha."
Rouletabille listened to the end. No one ever had spoken to him in thattone. He was red, and as ready to burst as a child's balloon blown toohard. He said:
"And I will take the train this evening."
"You will go?"
"Yes, and you can guard your general all alone. I have had enough of it.Ah, you are not satisfied! Ah, the Tsar is not satisfied! It is toobad. No more of it for me. Monsieur, I am not satisfied, and I sayGood-evening to you. Only do not forget to send me from here every threeor four days a letter which will keep me informed of the health of thegeneral, whom I love dearly. I will offer up a little prayer for him."
Thereupon he was silent, for he caught the glance of Matrena Petrovna,a glance so desolated, so imploring, so desperate, that the poor womaninspired him anew with great pity. Natacha had not returned. What wasthe young girl doing at that moment? If Matrena really loved Natachashe must be suffering atrociously. Koupriane spoke; Rouletabille didnot hear him, and he had already forgotten his own anger. His spirit waswrapped in th
e mystery.
"Monsieur," Koupriane finished by saying, tugging his sleeve, "do youhear me? I pray you at least reply to me. I offer all possible excusesfor speaking to you in that tone. I reiterate them. I ask your pardon.I pray you to explain your conduct, which appeared imprudent to me butwhich, after all, should have some reason. I have to explain to theEmperor. Will you tell me? What ought I to say to the Emperor?"
"Nothing at all," said Rouletabille. "I have no explanation to give youor the Emperor, or to anyone. You can offer him my utmost homage and dome the kindness to vise my passport for this evening."
And he sighed:
"It is too bad, for we were just about to see something interesting."
Koupriane looked at him. Rouletabille had not quitted Matrena Petrovna'seyes, and her pallor struck Koupriane.
"Just a minute," continued the young man. "I'm sure there is someonewho will miss me--that brave woman there. Ask her which she prefers, allyour police, or her dear little domovoi. We are good friends already.And--don't forget to present my condolences to her when the terriblemoment has come."
It was Koupriane's turn to be troubled.
He coughed and said:
"You believe, then, that the general runs a great immediate danger?"
"I do not only believe it, monsieur, I am sure of it. His death is amatter of hours for the poor dear man. Before I go I shall not failto tell him, so that he can prepare himself comfortably for the greatjourney and ask pardon of the Lord for the rather heavy hand he has laidon these poor men of Presnia."
"Monsieur Rouletabille, have you discovered something?"
"Good Lord, yes, I have discovered something, Monsieur Koupriane. Youdon't suppose I have come so far to waste my time, do you?"
"Something no one else knows?"
"Yes, Monsieur Koupriane, otherwise I shouldn't have troubled to feelconcerned. Something I have not confided to anyone, not even to mynote-book, because a note-book, you know, a note-book can always belost. I just mention that in case you had any idea of having me searchedbefore my departure."
"Oh, Monsieur Rouletabille!"
"Eh, eh, like the way the police do in your country; in mine too, forthat matter. Yes, that's often enough seen. The police, furious becausethey can't hit a clue in some case that interests them, arrest areporter who knows more than they do, in order to make him talk.But--nothing of that sort with me, monsieur. You might have me taken toyour famous 'Terrible Section,' I'd not open my mouth, not even in thefamous rocking-chair, not even under the blows of clenched fists."
"Monsieur Rouletabille, what do you take us for? You are the guest ofthe Tsar."
"Ah, I have the word of an honest man. Very well, I will treat you as anhonest man. I will tell you what I have discovered. I don't wish throughany false pride to keep you in darkness about something which mayperhaps--I say perhaps--permit you to save the general."
"Tell me. I am listening."
"But it is perfectly understood that once I have told you this you willgive me my passport and allow me to depart?"
"You feel that you couldn't possibly," inquired Koupriane, more and moretroubled, and after a moment of hesitation, "you couldn't possibly tellme that and yet remain?"
"No, monsieur. From the moment you place me under the necessity ofexplaining each of my movements and each of my acts, I prefer to go andleave to you that 'responsibility' of which you spoke just now, my dearMonsieur Koupriane."
Astonished and disquieted by this long conversation between Rouletabilleand the Head of Police, Matrena Petrovna continually turned upon themher anguished glance, which always insensibly softened as it rested onRouletabille. Koupriane read there all the hope that the brave woman hadin the young reporter, and he read also in Rouletabille's eye all theextraordinary confidence that the mere boy had in himself. As a lastconsideration had he not already something in hand in circumstanceswhere all the police of the world had admitted themselves vanquished?Koupriane pressed Rouletabille's hand and said just one word to him:
"Remain."
Having saluted the general and Matrena affectionately, and a group offriends in one courteous sweep, he departed, with thoughtful brow.
During all this time the general, enchanted with the promenade, toldstories of the Caucasus to his friends, believing himself young againand re-living his nights as sub-lieutenant at Tills. As to Natacha,no one had seen her. They retraced the way to the villa along desertedby-paths. Koupriane's call made occasion for Athanase Georgevitch andThaddeus, and the two officers also, to say that he was the only honestman in all the Russian police, and that Matrena Petrovna was a greatwoman to have dared rid herself of the entire clique of agents, whoare often more revolutionary than the Nihilists themselves. Thus theyarrived at the datcha.
The general inquired for Natacha, not understanding why she had left himthus during his first venture out. The schwitzar replied that the youngmistress had returned to the house and had left again about a quarterof an hour later, taking the way that the party had gone on theirpromenade, and he had not seen her since.
Boris spoke up:
"She must have passed on the other side of the carriages while we werebehind the trees, general, and not seeing us she has gone on her way,making the round of the island, over as far as the Barque."
The explanation seemed the most plausible one.
"Has anyone else been here?" demanded Matrena, forcing her voice tobe calm. Rouletabille saw her hand tremble on the handle of therolling-chair, which she had not quitted for a second during all thepromenade, refusing aid from the officers, the friends, and even fromRouletabille.
"First there came the Head of Police, who told me he would go and findyou, Barinia, and right after, His Excellency the Marshal of the Court.His Excellency will return, although he is very pressed for time, beforehe takes the train at seven o'clock for Krasnoie-Coelo."
All this had been said in Russian, naturally, but Matrena translated thewords of the schwitzar into French in a low voice for Rouletabille, whowas near her. The general during this time had taken Rouletabille's handand pressed it affectionately, as if, in that mute way, to thank him forall the young man had done for them. Feodor himself also had confidence,and he was grateful for the freer air that he was being allowedto breathe. It seemed to him that he was emerging from prison.Nevertheless, as the promenade had been a little fatiguing, Matrenaordered him to go and rest immediately. Athanase and Thaddeus took theirleave. The two officers were already at the end of the garden, talkingcoldly, and almost confronting one another, like wooden soldiers.Without doubt they were arranging the conditions of an encounter tosettle their little difference at once.
The schwitzar gathered the general into his great arms and carried himinto the veranda. Feodor demanded five minutes' respite before he wastaken upstairs to his chamber. Matrena Petrovna had a light luncheonbrought at his request. In truth, the good woman trembled withimpatience and hardly dared move without consulting Rouletabille'sface. While the general talked with Ermolai, who passed him his tea,Rouletabille made a sign to Matrena that she understood at once. Shejoined the young man in the drawing-room.
"Madame," he said rapidly, in a low voice, "you must go at once to seewhat has happened there."
He pointed to the dining-room.
"Very well."
It was pitiful to watch her.
"Go, madame, with courage."
"Why don't you come with me?"
"Because, madame, I have something to do elsewhere. Give me the keys ofthe next floor."
"No, no. What for?"
"Not a second's delay, for the love of Heaven. Do what I tell you onyour side, and let me do mine. The keys! Come, the keys!"
He snatched them rather than took them, and pointed a last time tothe dining-room with a gesture so commanding that she did not hesitatefurther. She entered the dining-room, shaking, while he bounded to theupper floor. He was not long. He took only time to open the doors, throwa glance into the general's chamber, a single glance,
and to return,letting a cry of joy escape him, borrowed from his new and very limitedaccomplishment of Russian, "Caracho!"
How Rouletabille, who had not spent half a second examining thegeneral's chamber, was able to be certain that all went well on thatside, when it took Matrena--and that how many times a day!--at leasta quarter of an hour of ferreting in all the corners each time sheexplored her house before she was even inadequately reassured, wasa question. If that dear heroic woman had been with him during this"instant information" she would have received such a shock that, withall confidence gone, she would have sent for Koupriane immediately,and all his agents, reinforced by the personnel of the Okrana (SecretPolice). Rouletabille at once rejoined the general, whistling. Feodorand Ermolai were deep in conversation about the Orel country. The youngman did not disturb them. Then, soon, Matrena reappeared. He saw hercome in quite radiant. He handed back her keys, and she took themmechanically. She was overjoyed and did not try to hide it. The generalhimself noticed it, and asked what had made her so.
"It is my happiness over our first promenade since we arrived at thedatcha des Iles," she explained. "And now you must go upstairs to bed,Feodor. You will pass a good night, I am sure."
"I can sleep only if you sleep, Matrena."
"I promise you. It is quite possible now that we have our dear littledomovoi. You know, Feodor, that he smokes his pipe just like the dearlittle porcelain domovoi."
"He does resemble him, he certainly does," said Feodor. "That makes usfeel happy, but I wish him to sleep also."
"Yes, yes," smiled Rouletabille, "everybody will sleep here. That is thecountersign. We have watched enough. Since the police are gone we canall sleep, believe me, general."
"Eh, eh, I believe you, on my word, easily enough. There were only theyin the house capable of attempting that affair of the bouquet. Ihave thought that all out, and now I am at ease. And anyway, whateverhappens, it is necessary to get sleep, isn't it? The chances of war!Nichevo!" He pressed Rouletabille's hand, and Matrena Petrovna took,as was her habit, Feodor Feodorovitch on her back and lugged him to hischamber. In that also she refused aid from anyone. The general clung tohis wife's neck during the ascent and laughed like a child. Rouletabilleremained in the hallway, watching the garden attentively. Ermolai walkedout of the villa and crossed the garden, going to meet a personage inuniform whom the young man recognized immediately as the grand-marshalof the court, who had introduced him to the Tsar. Ermolai informed himthat Madame Matrena was engaged in helping her husband retire, and themarshal remained at the end of the garden where he had found Michael andBoris talking in the kiosque. All three remained there for some timein conversation, standing by a table where General and Madame Trebassofsometimes dined when they had no guests. As they talked the marshalplayed with a box of white cardboard tied with a pink string. At thismoment Matrena, who had not been able to resist the desire to talk fora moment with Rouletabille and tell him how happy she was, rejoined theyoung man.
"Little domovoi," said she, laying her hand on his shoulder, "you havenot watched on this side?"
She pointed in her turn to the dining-room.
"No, no. You have seen it, madame, and I am sufficiently informed."
"Perfectly. There is nothing. No one has worked there! No one hastouched the board. I knew it. I am sure of it. It is dreadful what wehave thought about it! Oh, you do not know how relieved and happy Iam. Ah, Natacha, Natacha, I have not loved you in vain. (She pronouncedthese words in accents of great beauty and tragic sincerity.) When I sawher leave us, my dear, ah, my legs sank under me. When she said, 'I haveforgotten something; I must hurry back,' I felt I had not the strengthto go a single step. But now I certainly am happy, that weight at leastis off my heart, off my heart, dear little domovoi, because of you,because of you."
She embraced him, and then ran away, like one possessed, to resume herpost near the general.
Notes in Rouletabille's memorandum-book: The affair of the little cavityunder the floor not having been touched again proves nothing for oragainst Natacha (even though that excellent Matrena Petrovna thinksso). Natacha could very well have been warned by the too great care withwhich Madame Matrena watched the floor. My opinion, since I saw Matrenalift the carpet the first time without any real precaution, is that theyhave definitely abandoned the preparation of that attack and are tryingto account for the secret becoming known. What Matrena feels so sureof is that the trap I laid by the promenade to the Point was againstNatacha particularly. I knew beforehand that Natacha would absentherself during the promenade. I'm not looking for anything new fromNatacha, but what I did need was to be sure that Matrena didn't detestNatacha, and that she had not faked the preparations for an attack underthe floor in such a way as to throw almost certain suspicion on herstep-daughter. I am sure about that now. Matrena is innocent of such athing, the poor dear soul. If Matrena had been a monster the occasionwas too good. Natacha's absence, her solitary presence for a quarter ofan hour in the empty villa, all would have urged Matrena, whom I sentalone to search under the carpet in the dining-room, to draw the lastnails from the board if she was really guilty of having drawn theothers. Natacha would have been lost then! Matrena returned sincerely,tragically happy at not having found anything new, and now I have thematerial proof that I needed. Morally and physically Matrena is removedfrom it. So I am going to speak to her about the hat-pin. I believe thatthe matter is urgent on that side rather than on the side of the nailsin the floor.
The Secret of the Night Page 5