Chapter XV: The Eve of the Coronation

The dusk of a lovely autumnal eve had fallen over Slavowitz. Lights were beginning to twinkle along the boulevards.

The preparations for the coronation were complete. The clinking of the carpenter's hammer had ceased; the last bench had been put up; the last flag hung out. The streets had become fairy arcades festooned with flowers and colored lamps.

Crowds of sight-seers were abroad viewing the city decorations.

A numerous throng, composed principally of peasants from the more remote parts of Czernova, and who had never before seen their princess, moved to and fro in front of the Vistula Palace, calling for a sight of their fair ruler; and Barbara, responsive to their desire, appeared at intervals on the balcony smiling her acknowledgments, and occasionally waving a scarf--an action which drew forth rounds of applause.

The gayly decorated capital, brilliant with light, resonant on all sides with song and music, alive with an ever-moving, laughing populace, formed a picture difficult to associate with coming disaster.

"So hath many a city looked on the eve of its fall," murmured Barbara, as she turned away from the window. "Oh, Paul, why are you not with me? If you have a plan for the salvation of Czernova, now is the time for putting it forth."

By means of swift couriers despatched at intervals of every hour the princess was kept informed of the movements that were taking place along the frontier.

Early in the day the Russian army--horse, foot, and artillery--with the Czar Nicholas at its head, had set forward from Zamoska, and was now encamping within a mile of the Czernovese border. East and west for many a furlong stretched the armed line of one hundred thousand men. The Paulovski and Semenovski Guards were there, the most splendid in the imperial service; as well as the Tartar Guards, the Finland Guards, and other regiments drawn from the motley nationalities that compose the vast empire of the Czar. Picturesque Circassians, clad in silver mail, and mounted upon fiery steeds, pranced proudly along to the camping-ground marked out for them, discharging their pistols at the sun in the exuberance of their glee at the prospect of fighting and pillage.

Wild-looking Cossacks riding shaggy ponies were continually galloping up to the frontier-line with defiant cries as if challenging the Czernovese sentinels to fire; after which, with a menacing flourish of their lances they would career back to their own camp.

Russian generals, stately and bearded, could be seen standing on various points of elevated ground, coolly reconnoitring through field-glasses, and studying the topography of Czernova, as if purposing to conduct a campaign in the principality.

Two envoys successively despatched by the princess to the Russian camp to inquire into the meaning of these sinister doings had failed to return. The obvious conclusion was that they had been forcibly detained.

Barbara had resolved at all hazards to defend her throne; and accordingly, while a body of ten thousand troops was retained at Slavowitz for the preservation of order during the coronation, a second division of ten thousand, with Dorislas in command, had made their way to the frontier. Under the personal supervision of Zabern, artillery had been planted upon all the strategic points that commanded the road to Slavowitz.

It was a critical time. The Czernovese army lay encamped within sight of a force whose numerical superiority was as ten to one. On each side of the frontier Polish and Russian sentinels paced not one hundred yards apart; a chance shot from either side might easily bring on hostilities.

The princess's ministry lived in hourly dread of invasion, and though striving to put a bold front upon the matter, were secretly convinced that the sands of Czernovese liberty were fast running out.

In the midst of a melancholy revery, Barbara learned that the Duke of Bora was in the palace, desirous of an interview with her. She was not unprepared for his coming, and stern was her face as she descended to the White Saloon where the duke was in waiting.

At the foot of the staircase she was met by the captain of the palace-guard, who requested the watchword for the night; and taking the proffered tablet, the princess returned it inscribed with the words, "Fatherland and Liberty."

Lifting her eyes she perceived Zabern by her side.

"The duke has come," she whispered.

"All is ready," replied the marshal.

As Barbara entered the White Saloon, the duke bowed with a scarcely disguised smile of triumph. The recent Russian movement, as the princess had secret reason to know, was directed in his interests; with pitying grace he came as a sort of conqueror to make his terms with her.

Great at swordsmanship, Bora was not very shrewd in other matters, and none but a fool would have ventured to play the game that he was playing.

"I have come, fair cousin," he began, undeterred by her cold manner, "to remind you of your promise so frequently made--your promise to marry me."

Barbara made no reply, but regarded him with a look of sovereign disdain on her beautiful face.

"It is true," continued Bora, airily, "that you gave what you were pleased to call your final decision some weeks ago; still, the logic of events often compels one to revoke a decision."

"And why do you deem the present a favorable time for renewing your suit? What is this logic of events?"

Bora smiled mysteriously.

"I will say no more than this," he remarked, "that you will certainly live to regret the rejection of my suit."

"You evade my question. Let me then express what is in your mind. My lord, by favor of the Czar, you expect to reign over Czernova; you seek to usurp my throne. But knowing that so long as I live, your throne would always be insecure, you would make me your wife, not from love, not from generosity or pity, but merely to give validity to your title. Have I not read your cowardly motive aright?"

She had--accurately.

Unaware how much the princess had learned of his secret dealings, the fatuous Bora had come in the full assurance that the approach of a Russian army and the consequent rumors of annexation would have disposed her to welcome his suit as a means of retaining her throne. He now perceived his error. The princess was not so timid a person as he had thought. Her stern manner somewhat alarmed him. He began to regret his imprudence in thus venturing into her presence.

"In short, your grace, marriage with you is the only thing that can save me from deposition. Is not that what you would say?"

"You reject my suit? Good! Then let this interview terminate," said Bora, rising as if to depart.

The princess restrained him by a haughty gesture.

"Keep your seat, or I shall call the guard."

The duke obeyed, trembling now for his own safety. Never had he seen the princess looking so angry.

"Why, during the past twelve months, have you insulted me with vows of love, with offers of marriage?"

"Insulted? Why that word?" said the duke, striving to conceal his alarm under an assumption of dignity.

"Because while simulating affection for me you were secretly intriguing with my enemies."

"You have been listening to the aspersions of Zabern."

"I have been listening to the words of Lipski. Ah! you start, my lord, and well you may. You are not yet aware--for the affair was carried out very quietly--that a raid was made this afternoon upon Lipski's premises. His cellars were found to contain a vast store of arms. In the house, too, was a number of Russian agents, among them the spy, Ivan Russakoff. Lipski has made full confession."

"Of what?" muttered the duke, looking thunderstruck at the princess's statement.

"Of many things. Here is one. About a twelve-month ago there was established a new journal entitled the 'Kolokol,' mainly devoted to the libelling of myself and to the stirring-up of civil strife. Before the founding of that newspaper the Muscovites of Russograd were as loyal and law-abiding as the Poles themselves; under the influence of the 'Kolokol,' however, they have become restless, disorderly, inclined to sedition. Was that well done, John Lilieski?"

"What has this to do with me?"

"Much, for though Lipski might be editor, yet he who actually owned the paper, financed it, and secretly controlled its policy was none other than the Duke of Bora."

"A fable of Lipski's, invented to please the princess's ministers."

"We will see whether you adhere to that statement in the presence of Lipski, for you shall have the opportunity of facing your accuser. He likewise avers that his measure, the Secular Appropriation Bill, was in reality your work; he simply acted as your mouthpiece in the Diet. The money with which he corrupted the deputies was supplied by you, and came from Orloff, the governor-general of Warsaw."

"A falsehood. I affirm the story to be a falsehood."

"You devised a plot for the destruction of the Czernovese Charter. You wrote to Orloff desiring him to obtain the Czar's sanction for this scheme--a scheme which was, however, happily frustrated," added Barbara, not knowing how widely she erred from the truth.

"Lipski has been terrorized into saying whatever Zabern wishes," muttered the duke, moistening his dry lips with his tongue.

He saw that his treason had become known and proved; and for such treason as his there could be but one punishment--death! He glanced around the apartment, wondering whether her guards were really within call. In his desperation he would not have hesitated at slaying her, if by that deed he could have effected his escape.

Barbara drew forth a handkerchief marked with a dreadful dark stain. Instead of regarding it with a shudder as might have been expected, she pressed it affectionately to her lips.

"The blood of Trevisa," she said solemnly, "of Trevisa, the most faithful and loyal of my servants--slain at your instigation. Russakoff was paid to do the deed by Lipski, but Lipski took his instructions from the Duke of Bora."

"It's a lie."

"Katina Ludovska, though at the time she did not clearly see Lipski's face, has to-day recognized him by his voice, as the man who at the inn--Sobieski's Rest--offered to Russakoff the bribe of four hundred roubles. I have had Lipski brought here purposely to meet you. He is in the palace at the present moment. Your grace, come with me," said the princess, rising and motioning Bora to follow her. "Let me see you meet him with a denial. None more glad than I if you will do this. Come. Dare you?"

It seemed not. He shrank back from accompanying the princess to the adjoining ante-room, where sat both his miserable accomplice Lipski and the equally miserable Russakoff, each under the guard of a quaternion of soldiers.

"You virtually admit your guilt in refusing to face your accuser. The muskets found on Lipski's premises have been surreptitiously forwarded by Orloff with your knowledge and approval. To-morrow before break of day those arms were to have been distributed to a Muscovite mob rendered valiant by copious supplies of vodka. At a certain point along the intended route of the coronation procession, barricades were to be thrown up, and when firing and rioting had begun, a message was to be despatched to the camp of the Czar, urging him to come and save the Muscovites from massacre at the hands of the Poles. And the Czar, responsive to the appeal, would come to establish in Czernova what he would call a stable government, its stability to consist in the acceptance of his own suzerainty and in the establishment of his kinsman Bora upon the throne. The deposed princess might marry Bora, if she chose; if not, there is in Ladoga's gray lake an island fortress named Schlusselburg; there let her pass the remainder of her days. Such is the programme you would fain carry out to-morrow. My lord of Bora, you have played a dark game; it is time you received your reward."

The princess clapped her hands quickly, and at the sound every door of the White Saloon opened and through each there came marching a file of soldiers, two abreast. With quick silent footfall they advanced over the velvet carpet, and with a thrill of awe the duke perceived that all were carrying their arms reversed as at a funeral.

Deploying in their advance the files so moved as to form a double ring around the princess and the duke, and there they stood, terrible in their rigidity and silence.

The circle gave way and Zabern appeared, a chilling glare in his eye. At a sign from him one soldier with a swift motion pulled the duke's hands behind him, and in a moment more had corded his wrists, while a second pinned upon his breast a piece of white satin in shape like a heart.

At sight of this dreadful fabric designed to direct the aim of a firing party, the duke's courage fled; his knees smote together; he grew white to the very lips.

Only ten miles distant were one hundred thousand men ready to assist him to a throne; for all the aid they could now give him they might as well have been situated in the planet Mars.

"The firing-party awaits you in the quadrangle," said Zabern, as the guards closed up around the duke. "Forward!"

"Have a care what you do, Cousin Natalie," said Bora, scarcely able to speak from fear. "You will have to answer to the Czar for this."

"You speak treason with your last breath," said Barbara. "Answer to the Czar for executing a traitor in my own principality! What jurisdiction hath the Czar in Czernova?"

"Traitor!" cried Zabern, fiercely. "I would stab you with my own hand, though the Czar himself were by. To the quadrangle--forward!"

The murmur of the restless populace without penetrated to the interior of the palace, and was heard by the wretched duke. Was he to die with the sound of the coronation-mirth ringing in his ears?

In the ante-chamber Zabern halted his troop and returned to the side of the princess.

"This instrument lacks your Highness's signature," he remarked, presenting her with the warrant for the duke's execution.

"On occasions such as this," murmured Barbara, taking the document, "one is tempted to say with Saint Vladimir, 'Who am I that I should shed blood?'"

"And yet Vladimir shed a good deal, if history speak truth," responded Zabern, "and therefore became he a saint after Russia's own heart. Your Highness, this is no time for pity. It is a question of your life or the duke."

The princess appended a name to the warrant.

"I fear," observed Zabern, with a grave smile, "that the captain of the firing-party will question the authority of that signature."

The princess looked, and to her surprise saw that she had subscribed herself not "Natalie Lilieski," but "Barbara Tressilian!" She had unwittingly written her mother's maiden name.

She did not erase the signature, but proceeded to indite a fresh warrant. She wrote very slowly, pondering as she wrote. What would the real Natalie have thought, said, or done, if she were living now and saw her elder sister signing the death-warrant of her lover?

With a sigh she handed the document to the marshal, who immediately returned it with a very strange look. And there, staring at her from the paper, were the self-same words as before--"Barbara Tressilian!"

The princess had her superstitious moments, and this was one of them. That she should unintentionally have written the same twice seemed a confirmation of the misgiving that had troubled her for several weeks.

"This is the hand of heaven," she murmured, in a tone of awe, and laying down the pen. "Are not the illegitimate always called after their mother? I have written my true name. Marshal," she added in a fearful whisper, "it is Bora who should be on the throne, and I should be the prisoner of the Citadel."

"Your Highness, do not talk thus."

But Barbara paid little heed.

"I am tempted to summon the Diet, even at this late hour, and to reveal to them my secret history, the whole miserable story of my birth."

"You will bring ruin on Czernova if you do. What guarantee have you that the cardinal's story is true?"

"This," replied Barbara, pointing to her signature on the death-warrant.

The marshal shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly.

"And therefore, because you suspect yourself to be of illicit birth, you would tender your diadem to an assassin and a traitor. Then let the Czar himself lay down his power; true, he is the son of the Emperor Paul, but was Paul really the child of Peter III.? Catherine and Soltikoff, the chamberlain, could best answer that question. Princess, you are over-scrupulous. Your title to the throne is founded on a better right than that of the accident of birth. The sovereign rules by the will of the people, and are not the majority on your side? If the princely office were made elective, is there any candidate who would have the least chance of success against yourself? And, _vox populi, vox Dei_. What other sanction do you require?"

"The sanction of my own conscience. And to-morrow--to-morrow," she murmured in a tone of distress, "after taking the Holy Sacrament I must lay my hand upon the Charter--"

"Upon a forged document, rather," muttered Zabern, grimly to himself.

"And declare that 'I, Natalie Lilieska, do solemnly vow' to maintain its provisions, knowing that I am not Natalie Lilieska. No, Zabern, I cannot--I will not utter this falsehood."

"Then let the Pope avow himself a liar when in solemn conclave he assumes the style of Pio Nono, and ignores his true name of Giovanni Mastai."

"All men know of the Pope's change of name; there is no attempt at deception; but I claim to be other than I am. If I were certain of illegitimacy I would resign my power this very night."

"I see quite plainly," said Zabern, speaking with more freedom than he had hitherto employed towards the princess, "that if Czernova were handed over to the Czar, and your faithful ministers sent to Siberia, you would be very well content."

As he spoke the marshal drew his sabre.

"Do you bid me break the sword that has been so long used in the Polish cause? Must I retire hence to aid the Hungarians, to obtain that freedom which you would deny to us in Czernova?"

"No, marshal, no; we must not part. I will stand by those who have stood by me. Clinging to the hope that there is no dishonor on my name, I will hold to my crown."

"A wise decision, princess," replied Zabern, considerably relieved by her words. "And now as to the duke's execution."

"What, marshal? Would you have me sign his death-warrant when I am doubtful of my right to rule?--and sign it, too, in the name of one, who, strange as it may seem to us, loved him? No, I cannot sign this document with the name of Natalie."

"But your Highness cannot sign it with any other."

"Then I will not sign it at all."

"I greatly fear that your Highness will live to regret this clemency."

"Be it so."

The first glow of Barbara's anger had passed, and she listened to the voice of prudence. Though the duke richly merited death, yet his execution without trial would give the Czar a very convenient pretext for intervening in the affairs of Czernova.

"By shooting the duke I make the Czar the heir to my crown," said Barbara. "By retaining him alive I may be able to make use of his person as a pawn on the political chessboard. Imprisonment will be the wiser course. Remove the duke to the Citadel."

And inasmuch as the marshal recognized Barbara as his princess, he had of necessity to obey.

When Zabern had seen the duke securely lodged in a cell of the Citadel, he returned to the White Saloon, where Barbara still lingered, wrapt in melancholy thought.

"Your Highness, on entering the palace this note was put into my hands."

Barbara glanced at the missive and saw that it contained the following words: "Marshal, will you accord the bearer of this an interview with the princess?--PAUL WOODVILLE."

Barbara's melancholy vanished as if by enchantment. Two months had now elapsed since Paul's departure, and during that time she had received no message from him. Now at last there seemed to be tidings.

"Who is the bearer, marshal?"

"One returned from the dead. A woman calling herself 'Jacintha of Castel Nuovo.' She is in the ante-room at the present moment awaiting your Highness's pleasure."

The mention of the name "Jacintha" almost drew a scream from the princess. She ordered the visitor to be instantly admitted.

Barbara's character was not marked by the false pride that is too often the accompaniment of rank and wealth. She welcomed her humble visitor as warmly as she would have welcomed a queen or empress. Jacintha had nursed her back to life, and Barbara, mindful of this service, was delighted to have the opportunity of making some return.

"My lady--your Highness, I should say," began Jacintha, sinking upon her knees, "it is very untimely on my part to visit you on the eve of your coronation, when you are occupied--"

"My dear old nurse," said Barbara, raising Jacintha up with a winning smile, "let me whisper a secret to you. I want to forget my coronation, and your presence will make me forget it. Sit here beside me, and let us talk of the old days at Castel Nuovo."

Zabern would have withdrawn, but the princess bade him stay.

"I had thought," continued Barbara, "that you had perished in that dreadful earthquake. And Lambro? Is he alive?"

"No, my la--your Highness. We were outside the castle at the time of the calamity, for some previous rumblings had alarmed us. When the great shock came Lambro slipped into a fissure that opened beneath his feet. He went down before my very eyes, and the earth closed over him immediately. How I myself escaped I cannot tell, for the ground was opening and closing all around me."

"Poor Lambro!" sighed Barbara, who had always entertained a liking for the old Palicar, not knowing how little he deserved her friendship. "And where have you been living during the two past years?"

Jacintha's story, briefly stated, was as follows. After the earthquake she had made her way to Trieste, and thence by steamer to England. Within a few weeks of her return she had had the good fortune to become housekeeper in one of the ancient halls of Kent.

"But now will you not remain with me?" smiled the princess.

"Your Highness will not wish it after you have heard the whole of my story," replied Jacintha, and the strange look which accompanied her words somehow caused all Barbara's gladness to die away.

A few days previously Jacintha's master had bidden her prepare for the coming of one of his friends, Captain Woodville by name. What was her amazement to find in her visitor none other than Captain Cressingham, who on his part was equally astounded at meeting Jacintha. Paul immediately fell to talking of the old days at Castel Nuovo, and, among other matters, he questioned Jacintha closely as to the young lady who had visited the castle under the escort of Cardinal Ravenna. Jacintha learnt from Paul that this lady was in reality the half-sister of Barbara, and that both held the rank of princess. Then it was that Jacintha resolved to tell Paul the true story of Natalie's death.

"Ha!" muttered Zabern, foreseeing that his dark suspicion was about to be verified.

"And Captain Woodville has sent you here to tell it to me likewise--is it not so?" asked Barbara.

"Yes, your Highness. I wanted to put the story into writing, that you might learn it in that way. I wanted Captain Cressingham himself to tell it to you. But no; he said it was better that you should hear it from my lips, and he prevailed upon me to come here."

"Go on, Jacintha," said Barbara encouragingly, for Jacintha seemed very loath to proceed.

"Your Highness, it is no wonder that the earthquake came to swallow up the castle, for wicked doings took place there. But do not blame me for my association with them. I loathed my position there, and would have run away, but for the fear of Lambro and his mastiffs. Now that you are a great princess, you will perhaps punish me when you shall have heard the truth."

"Captain Woodville would not have sent you all the way to Czernova, if he had thought that I should punish you. Tell me the story of my sister's death. You have my word beforehand that no hurt shall happen to you."

And Jacintha with a faltering tongue began a story, the recital of which caused Barbara to thrill with horror.

"O Natalie, my sister! my sister!" she murmured, when Jacintha had finished. "But for the cardinal, you would still be living. His guilty love has driven one sister to suicide, and now, opposed in his wicked desires, he seeks to destroy the other. How can heaven permit this man to live? Bora's guilt is innocence compared with the guilt of Ravenna."

Powerless to allay the princess's grief, Zabern could only watch her in sympathizing silence, and mentally renew his vows of vengeance upon the cardinal. So full was Barbara of this new sorrow that she seemed to have forgotten Paul; at least she made no inquiries about him.

Zabern, however, leading Jacintha aside, quietly questioned her as to the movements of the princess's late secretary. It appeared that Paul had accompanied Jacintha as far as Berlin, and had there put her in a train bound for Czernova; seized with a sudden illness on the way, she had been removed from the carriage at the first stopping-place, and this circumstance had delayed her arrival in Czernova by several days. Paul himself, on parting from her, was going direct to St. Petersburg, a statement which Zabern received with incredulity.

"St. Petersburg? Are you certain?"

Yes, Jacintha was quite certain.

"St. Petersburg," muttered Zabern. "Not three months ago the Russians were demanding his extradition, and now does he venture into the country of his enemies? If his passport is made out in the name of Paul Woodville, he is a doomed man; they will never let the defender of Tajapore depart. This is something I can't understand."

Though closely interrogated by Zabern, Jacintha was unable to throw any light upon the motives that had prompted Paul to visit Russia.

The marshal paced uneasily to and fro.

"Captain Woodville," he murmured, "pledged his solemn word to be in Czernova on the coronation eve; for, forewarned by me, he had reason to believe that the princess's crown depended upon his sword. But he has not yet appeared. His absence has something sinister in it, for it is certain that he would be here if he could. True, his presence in one sense has now become unnecessary, inasmuch as the duke being a prisoner in the Citadel will be unable to appear in the cathedral to-morrow to challenge the princess's rights, and to defy her to mortal combat by deputy. But as Woodville can know nothing of the duke's imprisonment, why does he not hasten to the supposed aid of the princess? I greatly fear that our champion is himself a prisoner."

At this point intimation was given by the chamberlain that one of Zabern's familiars, privileged to enter the palace at all hours, was in the anteroom, desirous of a word with the marshal.

Zabern withdrew from the White Saloon, and returned after a minute's absence with the tidings for which he had been waiting all day.

"Your Highness, my spy appointed to watch the cardinal in his journeying to and fro from Rome reports that his Eminence has just arrived at Slavowitz, bringing with him the papal bull which deposes the Princess of Czernova, and absolves her subjects from their allegiance."

"Say, rather, bringing with him his own death-warrant," cried Barbara, with a blaze of wrath unusual in her.

"Your Highness gives me leave to deal with the cardinal as I please," whispered Zabern, tapping the hilt of his sabre significantly.

Barbara made no reply.

The marshal interpreting her silence as consent, stole quietly from the apartment.