Chapter IX: We Will Befriend Her

The words of the count filled me with astonishment. Involuntarily I remembered then the intelligence the Princess had given me of the fallen favours of the Orloffs, of the exile of the late favourite to Revel, and of the rising fortunes of their enemies. Was it grief, was it passion which blinded the count? or did he really believe in the descent of the Princess? I really did not know, but I could clearly see that he was not throwing his words to the winds, and that a great struggle was taking place in his heart.

“Excuse my impertinence, Your Grace,” said I impatiently, “but if you bid me, I’ll hide nothing from you. The person I saw, I must say, resembles very much the late Empress Elizabeth. Who does not know the portrait of that empress? The same imposing profile, the white, delicate complexion, the same dark arched eyebrows, the same majestic figure, and, more important than all,--the same eyes. I cannot help relating to you what my late grandmother in Oukraine told me about the relatives of the Razoumovskis.”

“Ah! bah! But yourself, Konsov--you are from Baturin!” excitedly said the count. “Well, well, and what did your grandmother tell you?”

I told him all I knew about Daraganovka, and about the mysterious child who had once lived there.

“Ah! that’s where this Tarakanovka comes from,” said the count. “True! true! Yes! yes! I remember now I heard something about a Tmoutarakanski[26] princess.”

He rose from the bench. I could see that he was very much agitated. Crossing his hands behind his back, and with his head hanging down, he began walking backwards and forwards on the garden path. I respectfully followed him at a little distance.

“Konsov, you are now no longer a boy!” said Alexis Gregorevitch, turning his keen eagle eyes upon me. “This is a most important State affair. Be careful, not only of your actions and your words, but even of your very thoughts. Can you swear to be silent on everything?”

“Your Grace, I give you my oath.”

“Well, then, listen, and--remember--you answer me with your head.”[27]

The count stopped, and his thoughtful gaze seemed to pierce my very soul; then he added, “Don’t forget; you know me of old--your head!…”

We crossed the garden, and sat on an isolated bench.

“Of course it will not be very difficult to catch this calumniated person,” said the count; “you’re obliged to do a great deal sometimes, when you are ordered to do it. But would it be honest now? What do you think about it?--Mysteriously--deceitfully? Ah! and especially with a woman.--It would be a pity now, wouldn’t it?”

“Of course it would,” answered I, in my simplicity; “of course we must conquer our enemies; but then openly--otherwise everybody will have the right to call us traitors, soul-killers.”

At this minute the eyes of the count twinkled very curiously. He closed them quickly, as though something had blown into them.

“Of course, of course, old man, it would be mean.… You and I are not executioners,” said he. “Of course they wouldn’t write from Petersburg for nothing; and then, who knows what they think about us there? But there now, I’ll be open. I received two secret envoys from over there, tempting and inducing me to turn traitor.… Could I expect such a thing? Isn’t it an insult, after all my long years of faithful devotion? Ah! what think you of that?”

The frankness of the count struck me with astonishment, and flattered my vanity. “What a lot falls to the great of this earth!” thought I and from the bottom of my heart I pitied the count, whose fallen greatness I knew already.

Alexis Gregorevitch put several questions to me about the Princess and her _entourage_, told me he would employ me as adjutant, and dismissed me with the order to go to Bologna and await his commands. I thanked him for his attention, and took my leave.

The next day the count left for Livorno[28] to visit his squadron, and remained away a whole week. As I was without any money and in great want of everything, it was not very pleasant for me. I had no one to write to in Russia. Several more days passed. At last I was summoned.

The count received me in his study.

“Can you guess, Konsov, what I’ve to tell you?” he asked me, arranging some papers.

“How can I guess the thoughts of Your Grace?”

“Here’s a note. Go to the purser, get some money, pay your debts. Send the money to those French creditors. You’ve ruined yourself in the service. To-morrow you go to Rome.”

I bowed, and awaited further orders.

“Do you know why?” asked the count.

“I cannot guess.”

“Whilst you wandered about and were ill, this mysterious Princess, deserted by the volatile Radzivill,” said the count, “left Ragusa. At first, with a Neapolitan passport, she went to Barletta, lived there some time. Now she has appeared in Rome as a Polish lady. Do you understand?”

I again bowed.

“Well, now,” continued the count, “I am very culpable in her eyes. I have not answered her two letters. But how could I, surrounded by all these spies? Answer? I tried once or twice to send her a faithful emissary, one of your own companions-at-arms, but she would not receive him. I pity that poor, young deserted thing, so inexperienced and without any means. You’ll be able to see her and begin the negotiations. I have invited her here; at Rome, I have heard, there are several Russians. Try and get to know everything that’s going on; but, first of all, shield her from all enemies and all foreign influence. Let her believe in us alone. We will befriend her. About your own conscience, be easy; all shall be done in all mercy and according to the laws of justice.”