Chapter XXXVII: The Prisoner of Zostrov

The castle stood within a great quadrangle, which we entered through a massive stone gateway guarded by two sentries. Two more were stationed at the top of a steep and wide marble stairway that led up to the entrance hall, and the whole place seemed swarming with soldiers, and servants in handsome liveries. A couple of grooms came to hold our horses, and a third took possession of my valise, containing chiefly a dress suit and some shirts. My other belongings were coming on in the wagon.

Mishka's manner underwent a decided change from the moment we entered the castle precincts. The bluff and often grumpy air of familiarity was gone, and in its place was the surly deference with which he had treated me at first. As we neared the end of our journey, he had once more warned me to be on my guard, and remember that I must appear as an utter stranger to the Duke and all about him, except Mishka himself.

"You have never been in Russia before," he repeated. "And you speak only a few words of Russian, which I have taught you on our way. That will matter little, since most here speak French and German."

He parted from me with a deferential salute, after handing me over to the care of a gorgeously attired functionary, whom I found to be a kind of majordomo or house steward. This imposing person welcomed me very courteously; and I gathered that I was supposed to be a new addition to the Grand Duke's suite. I had rather wondered on what footing I should be received here, especially since Mishka's remark, a while back, about the "prisoner." But some one--Loris himself or Mishka, or both of them--had planned things perfectly, and I am sure that no one beyond ourselves and the elder Pavloff, who was also in the secret, had the slightest suspicion that I was other than I appeared to be.

My new acquaintance himself conducted me to the rooms prepared for me,--a spacious bedroom and sitting-room, with plain, massive furniture, including a big bookcase that occupied the whole of an alcove between the great Russian stove and the outer wall. Facing this was a door leading to a smaller dressing and bath room, where the lackey who had carried up my valise was in waiting.

"This Nicolai will be in attendance on you; he speaks German," my courteous guide informed me in French. "He will bring you all you need; you have only to give him orders. You will dine at the officers' mess, and after dinner his Highness will give you audience."

"Does Monsieur Pavloff--the land steward--live in the castle?" I asked, thinking it wise to emphasize my assumed role. "I understand that I'll have to work with him."

"No; his house is some two versts distant. But he is often in attendance here, naturally. Perhaps you will see him to-night; if not, without doubt, you will meet him to-morrow. Nicolai awaits your orders, and your keys."

He bowed ceremoniously, and took himself off.

That Nicolai was a smart fellow. He already had the bath prepared,--I must have looked as if I wanted one,--and when I gave him the key of my bag, he laid out my clothes with the quick deftness of a well-trained valet.

I told him I shouldn't want him any more at present, but when I had bathed and changed, I found him still hovering around in the next room. He had set a tea-table, on which the silver samovar was hissing invitingly. He wanted to stay and wait on me, but I wouldn't have that. Smart and attentive as he was, he got on my nerves, and I felt I'd rather be alone. So I dismissed him, and, in obedience to some instinct I didn't try to analyze, crossed the room softly, and locked the door through which he had passed.

I had scarcely seated myself, and poured out a glass of delicious Russian tea,--which is as wine to water compared with the crude beverage, diluted with cream, which Americans and western Europeans call tea,--when I heard a queer little sound behind me. I glanced back, and saw that one section of the big bookcase had moved forward slightly. With my right hand gripping the revolver that I had transferred from my travelling suit to the hip pocket of my evening clothes, I crossed swiftly to the alcove, just as some three feet of the shelves swung bodily inwards, revealing a doorway behind, in which stood none other than Mishka.

"The fool has gone; but is the outer door locked?" he asked in a cautious undertone.

"Yes," I answered, noticing as I spoke that he stood at the top of a narrow spiral staircase.

"That is well. Approach, Highness; all is safe," he whispered down the darkness behind him, and flattened himself against the narrow wall space, as a second figure came into sight,--the Grand Duke Loris himself, who greeted me with outstretched hand.

"I do not care for this sort of thing,--this elaborate secrecy, Mr. Wynn," he said softly in English. "But unfortunately it is necessary. Let us go through to your dressing-room. There it is less likely that we can be overheard."

I followed him in silence. He sat himself down on the wide marble edge of the bath, and looked at me, as I stood before him, as though his brilliant blue eyes would read my very soul.

"So you have come; as I thought you would. And you are very welcome. But why have you come?"

"Because I hope to serve your Highness, and--she whom we both love," I answered promptly.

"Yes, I was sure of that, although we have met only twice or thrice. I am seldom mistaken in a man whom I have once looked in the eyes; and I know I can trust you, as I dare trust few others,--none within these walls save the good Mishka. He has told you that I am virtually a prisoner here?"

I bowed assent.

"I am closely guarded, my every word, my every gesture noted; though when the time is ripe, or when she sends word that she needs me, I shall slip away! There is a great game, a stern one, preparing; and there will be a part for us both to play. I will give you the outline to-night, when I shall come to you again. That staircase yonder leads down to my apartments. I had it made years ago by foreign workmen, and none save myself and the Pavloffs--and you now--know of its existence, so far. In public we must be strangers; after the formal audience I give you to-night I shall probably ignore you altogether. But as Gould, the American farming expert, you will be able to come and go, riding the estates with Pavloff--or without him--and yet rouse no suspicion. To-night I shall return as I said; and now _au revoir_."

He left just in time, for a minute or two after I had unlocked the door, Nicolai reappeared, and conducted me to an ante-room where I found quite a throng of officers, one of whom introduced himself as Colonel Grodwitz, and presented me to several of the others. They all treated me with the easy courtesy which well-bred Russians assume--and discard--with such facility; but then, and later, I had to be constantly on guard against innumerable questions, which, though asked in what appeared to be a perfectly frank and spontaneous manner, were, I was convinced, sprung on me for the purpose of ascertaining how much I knew of Russia and its complicated affairs.

But I was quite ready for them, and if they had any suspicions I hope they abandoned them for the present.

After dinner a resplendent footman brought a message to Grodwitz, who thereupon told me that he was to conduct me to his Highness, who would receive me now.

"Say, what shall I have to do?" I asked confidentially as we passed along a magnificent corridor. "I've been to a levee held by the King of England, but I don't know anything of Russian Court etiquette."

He laughed and shrugged his shoulders.

"There is no need for you to observe etiquette, _mon ami_. Are you not an American and a Republican? Therefore none will blame you if you are unceremonious,--least of all our puissant Grand Duke! Have you not heard that he himself is a kind of '_Jacques bonhomme_'?"

"That means just a peasant, doesn't it?" I asked obtusely. "No, I hadn't heard that."

He laughed again.

"Did the good Mishka tell you nothing?"

"Why, no; he's the surliest and most silent fellow I've ever travelled with."

"He is discreet, that Mishka," said Grodwitz, and drew himself up stiffly as the footman, who had preceded us, threw open a door, and ushered us into the Duke's presence.

He was standing before a great open fireplace in which a log fire crackled cheerily, and beside him was the little fat officer I had seen him with before; while there were several others present, all ceremoniously standing, and looking more or less bored.

Our interview was brief and formal; but I noted that the fat officer and Grodwitz were keenly observant of all that passed.

"Well, that's all right," I said with a sigh of relief, when Grodwitz and I were back in the corridor again. "But there doesn't seem to be much of the peasant about him!"

"I was but jesting, _mon ami_," Grodwitz assured me. "But now your ordeal is over. You will take a hand at bridge, _hein_?"