THE SECRET OF THE NIGHT

By Gaston Leroux

CONTENTS

Chapter

 I GAYETY AND DYNAMITE II NATACHA III THE WATCH IV "THE YOUTH OF Moscow Is DEAD" V BY ROULETABILLE'S ORDER THE GENERAL PROMENADES VI THE MYSTERIOUS HAND VII ARSENATE OF SODA VIII THE LITTLE CHAPEL OF THE GUARDS IX ANNOUCHEA X A DRAMA IN THE NIGHT XI THE POISON CONTINUES XII PERE ALEXIS XIII THE LIVING BOMBS XIV THE MARSHES XV "I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU" XVI BEFORE THE REVOLUTIONARY TRIBUNAL XVII THE LAST CRAVAT XVIII A SINGULAR EXPERIENCE XIX THE TSAR

THE SECRET OF THE NIGHT

I. GAYETY AND DYNAMITE

"BARINIA, the young stranger has arrived. "

"Where is he?"

"Oh, he is waiting at the lodge. "

"I told you to show him to Natacha's sitting-room. Didn't you understandme, Ermolai?"

"Pardon, Barinia, but the young stranger, when I asked to search him, asyou directed, flatly refused to let me. "

"Did you explain to him that everybody is searched before being allowedto enter, that it is the order, and that even my mother herself hassubmitted to it?"

"I told him all that, Barinia; and I told him about madame your mother. "

"What did he say to that?"

"That he was not madame your mother. He acted angry. "

"Well, let him come in without being searched. "

"The Chief of Police won't like it. "

"Do as I say. "

Ermolai bowed and returned to the garden. The "barinia" left theveranda, where she had come for this conversation with the old servantof General Trebassof, her husband, and returned to the dining-roomin the datcha des Iles, where the gay Councilor Ivan Petrovitch wasregaling his amused associates with his latest exploit at Cubat'sresort. They were a noisy company, and certainly the quietest among themwas not the general, who nursed on a sofa the leg which still held himcaptive after the recent attack, that to his old coachman and his twopiebald horses had proved fatal. The story of the always-amiable IvanPetrovitch (a lively, little, elderly man with his head bald as anegg) was about the evening before. After having, as he said, "recurela bouche" for these gentlemen spoke French like their own languageand used it among themselves to keep their servants fromunderstanding--after having wet his whistle with a large glass ofsparkling rosy French wine, he cried:

"You would have laughed, Feodor Feodorovitch. We had sung songs on theBarque* and then the Bohemians left with their music and we went outonto the river-bank to stretch our legs and cool our faces in thefreshness of the dawn, when a company of Cossacks of the Guard camealong. I knew the officer in command and invited him to come along withus and drink the Emperor's health at Cubat's place. That officer, FeodorFeodorovitch, is a man who knows vintages and boasts that he has neverswallowed a glass of anything so common as Crimean wine. When I namedchampagne he cried, 'Vive l'Empereur!' A true patriot. So we started, merry as school-children. The entire company followed, then all thediners playing little whistles, and all the servants besides, singlefile. At Cubat's I hated to leave the companion-officers of my friend atthe door, so I invited them in, too. They accepted, naturally. But thesubalterns were thirsty as well. I understand discipline. You know, Feodor Feodorovitch, that I am a stickler for discipline. Just becauseone is gay of a spring morning, discipline should not be forgotten. Iinvited the officers to drink in a private room, and sent the subalternsinto the main hall of the restaurant. Then the soldiers were thirsty, too, and I had drinks served to them out in the courtyard. Then, myword, there was a perplexing business, for now the horses whinnied. Thebrave horses, Feodor Feodorovitch, who also wished to drink the healthof the Emperor. I was bothered about the discipline. Hall, court, allwere full. And I could not put the horses in private rooms. Well, I madethem carry out champagne in pails and then came the perplexing businessI had tried so hard to avoid, a grand mixture of boots and horse-shoesthat was certainly the liveliest thing I have ever seen in my life. Butthe horses were the most joyous, and danced as if a torch was held undertheir nostrils, and all of them, my word! were ready to throw theirriders because the men were not of the same mind with them as to theroute to follow! From our window we laughed fit to kill at such amixture of sprawling boots and dancing hoofs. But the troopers finallygot all their horses to barracks, with patience, for the Emperor'scavalry are the best riders in the world, Feodor Feodorovitch. And wecertainly had a great laugh!--Your health, Matrena Petrovna. "

 [* The "Barque" is a restaurant on a boat, among the isles, near the Gulf of Finland, on a bank of the Neva. ]

These last graceful words were addressed to Madame Trebassof, whoshrugged her shoulders at the undesired gallantry of the gay Councilor. She did not join in the conversation, excepting to calm the general, whowished to send the whole regiment to the guard-house, men and horses. And while the roisterers laughed over the adventure she said to herhusband in the advisory voice of the helpful wife:

"Feodor, you must not attach importance to what that old fool Ivantells you. He is the most imaginative man in the capital when he has hadchampagne. "

"Ivan, you certainly have not had horses served with champagne inpails, " the old boaster, Athanase Georgevitch, protested jealously. Hewas an advocate, well-known for his table-feats, who claimed the hardestdrinking reputation of any man in the capital, and he regretted not tohave invented that tale. 

"On my word! And the best brands! I had won four thousand roubles. Ileft the little fete with fifteen kopecks. "

Matrena Petrovna was listening to Ermolai, the faithful country servantwho wore always, even here in the city, his habit of fresh nankeen, hisblack leather belt, his large blue pantaloons and his boots glisteninglike ice, his country costume in his master's city home. Madame Matrenarose, after lightly stroking the hair of her step-daughter Natacha, whose eyes followed her to the door, indifferent apparently to thetender manifestations of her father's orderly, the soldier-poet, BorisMourazoff, who had written beautiful verses on the death of theMoscow students, after having shot them, in the way of duty, on theirbarricades. 

Ermolai conducted his mistress to the drawing-room and pointed acrossto a door that he had left open, which led to the sitting-room beforeNatacha's chamber. 

"He is there, " said Ermolai in a low voice. 

Ermolai need have said nothing, for that matter, since MadameMatrena was aware of a stranger's presence in the sitting-room by theextraordinary attitude of an individual in a maroon frock-coat borderedwith false astrakhan, such as is on the coats of all the Russian policeagents and makes the secret agents recognizable at first glance. Thispoliceman was on his knees in the drawing-room watching what passed inthe next room through the narrow space of light in the hinge-way of thedoor. In this manner, or some other, all persons who wished to approachGeneral Trebassof were kept under observation without their knowing it, after having been first searched at the lodge, a measure adopted sincethe latest attack. 

Madame Matrena touched the policeman's shoulder with that heroic handwhich had saved her husband's life and which still bore traces of theterrible explosion in the last attack, when she had seized the infernalmachine intended for the general with her bare hand. The policeman roseand silently left the room, reached the veranda and lounged there on asofa, pretending to be asleep, but in reality watching the garden paths. 

Matrena Petrovna took his place at the hinge-vent. This was her rule;she always took the final glance at everything and everybody. Sheroved at all hours of the day and night round about the general, like awatch-dog, ready to bite, to throw itself before the danger, to receivethe blows, to perish for its master. This had commenced at Moscow afterthe terrible repression, the massacre of revolutionaries under the wallsof Presnia, when the surviving Nihilists left behind them a placardcondemning the victorious General Trebassof to death. Matrena Petrovnalived only for the general. She had vowed that she would not survivehim. So she had double reason to guard him. 

But she had lost all confidence even within the walls of her own home. 

Things had happened even there that defied her caution, her instinct, her love. She had not spoken of these things save to the Chief ofPolice, Koupriane, who had reported them to the Emperor. And here nowwas the man whom the Emperor had sent, as the supreme resource, thisyoung stranger--Joseph Rouletabille, reporter. 

"But he is a mere boy!" she exclaimed, without at all understanding thematter, this youthful figure, with soft, rounded cheeks, eyes clear and, at first view, extraordinarily naive, the eyes of an infant. True, atthe moment Rouletabille's expression hardly suggested any superhumanprofundity of thought, for, left in view of a table, spread withhors-d'oeuvres, the young man appeared solely occupied in digging outwith a spoon all the caviare that remained in the jars. Matrena notedthe rosy freshness of his cheeks, the absence of down on his lip and nota hint of beard, the thick hair, with the curl over the forehead. Ah, that forehead--the forehead was curious, with great over-hanging craniallumps which moved above the deep arcade of the eye-sockets while themouth was busy--well, one would have said that Rouletabille had noteaten for a week. He was demolishing a great slice of Volgan sturgeon, contemplating at the same time with immense interest a salad of creamedcucumbers, when Matrena Petrovna appeared. 

He wished to excuse himself at once and spoke with his mouth full. 

"I beg your pardon, madame, but the Czar forgot to invite me tobreakfast. "

Madame Matrena smiled and gave him a hearty handshake as she urged himto be seated. 

"You have seen His Majesty?"

"I come from him, madame. It is to Madame Trebassof that I have thehonor of speaking?"

"Yes. And you are Monsieur--?"

"Joseph Rouletabille, madame. I do not add, 'At your service--becauseI do not know about that yet. That is what I said just now to HisMajesty. "

"Then?" asked Madame Matrena, rather amused by the tone the conversationhad taken and the slightly flurried air of Rouletabille. 

"Why, then, I am a reporter, you see. That is what I said at once to myeditor in Paris, 'I am not going to take part in revolutionary affairsthat do not concern my country, ' to which my editor replied, 'You donot have to take part. You must go to Russia to make an inquiry intothe present status of the different parties. You will commence byinterviewing the Emperor. ' I said, 'Well, then, here goes, ' and took thetrain. "

"And you have interviewed the Emperor?"

"Oh, yes, that has not been difficult. I expected to arrive directat St. Petersburg, but at Krasnoie-Coelo the train stopped and thegrand-marshal of the court came to me and asked me to follow him. Itwas very flattering. Twenty minutes later I was before His Majesty. Heawaited me! I understood at once that this was obviously for somethingout of the ordinary. "

"And what did he say to you?"

"He is a man of genuine majesty. He reassured me at once when Iexplained my scruples to him. He said there was no occasion for me totake part in the politics of the matter, but to save his most faithfulservant, who was on the point of becoming the victim of the strangestfamily drama ever conceived. "

Madame Matrena, white as a sheet, rose to her feet. 

"Ah, " she said simply. 

But Rouletabille, whom nothing escaped, saw her hand tremble on the backof the chair. 

He went on, not appearing to have noticed her emotion:

"His Majesty added these exact words: 'It is I who ask it of you; I andMadame Trebassof. Go, monsieur, she awaits you. '"

He ceased and waited for Madame Trebassof to speak. 

She made up her mind after brief reflection. 

"Have you seen Koupriane?"

"The Chief of Police? Yes. The grand-marshal accompanied me back to thestation at Krasnoie-Coelo, and the Chief of Police accompanied me to St. Petersburg station. One could not have been better received. "

"Monsieur Rouletabille, " said Matrena, who visibly strove to regain herself-control, "I am not of Koupriane's opinion and I am not"--here shelowered her trembling voice--"of the opinion His Majesty holds. Itis better for me to tell you at once, so that you may notregret intervening in an affair where there are--where thereare--risks--terrible risks to run. No, this is not a family drama. Thefamily is small, very small: the general, his daughter Natacha (by hisformer marriage), and myself. There could not be a family drama amongus three. It is simply about my husband, monsieur, who did his duty asa soldier in defending the throne of his sovereign, my husband whom theymean to assassinate! There is nothing else, no other situation, my dearlittle guest. "

To hide her distress she started to carve a slice of jellied veal andcarrot. 

"You have not eaten, you are hungry. It is dreadful, my dear young man. See, you must dine with us, and then--you will say adieu. Yes, you willleave me all alone. I will undertake to save him all alone. Certainly, Iwill undertake it. "

A tear fell on the slice she was cutting. Rouletabille, who felt thebrave woman's emotion affecting him also, braced himself to keep fromshowing it. 

"I am able to help you a little all the same, " he said. "MonsieurKoupriane has told me that there is a deep mystery. It is my vocation toget to the bottom of mysteries. "

"I know what Koupriane thinks, " she said, shaking her head. "But ifI could bring myself to think that for a single day I would rather bedead. "

The good Matrena Petrovna lifted her beautiful eyes to Rouletabille, brimming with the tears she held back. 

She added quickly:

"But eat now, my dear guest; eat. My dear child, you must forget whatKoupriane has said to you, when you are back in France. "

"I promise you that, madame. "

"It is the Emperor who has caused you this long journey. For me, Idid not wish it. Has he, indeed, so much confidence in you?" she askednaively, gazing at him fixedly through her tears. 

"Madame, I was just about to tell you. I have been active in someimportant matters that have been reported to him, and then sometimesyour Emperor is allowed to see the papers. He has heard talk, too (foreverybody talked of them, madame), about the Mystery of the Yellow Roomand the Perfume of the Lady in Black. "

Here Rouletabille watched Madame Trebassof and was much mortified at theundoubted ignorance that showed in her frank face of either the yellowroom or the black perfume. 

"My young friend, " said she, in a voice more and more hesitant, "youmust excuse me, but it is a long time since I have had good eyes forreading. "

Tears, at last, ran down her cheeks. 

Rouletabille could not restrain himself any further. He saw in one flashall this heroic woman had suffered in her combat day by day with thedeath which hovered. He took her little fat hands, whose fingers wereoverloaded with rings, tremulously into his own:

"Madame, do not weep. They wish to kill your husband. Well then, we willbe two at least to defend him, I swear to you. "

"Even against the Nihilists!"

"Aye, madame, against all the world. I have eaten all your caviare. I amyour guest. I am your friend. "

As he said this he was so excited, so sincere and so droll that MadameTrebassof could not help smiling through her tears. She made him sitdown beside her. 

"The Chief of Police has talked of you a great deal. He came hereabruptly after the last attack and a mysterious happening that I willtell you about. He cried, 'Ah, we need Rouletabille to unravel this!'The next day he came here again. He had gone to the Court. There, everybody, it appears, was talking of you. The Emperor wished to knowyou. That is why steps were taken through the ambassador at Paris. "

"Yes, yes. And naturally all the world has learned of it. That makes itso lively. The Nihilists warned me immediately that I would not reachRussia alive. That, finally, was what decided me on coming. I amnaturally very contrary. "

"And how did you get through the journey?"

"Not badly. I discovered at once in the train a young Slav assignedto kill me, and I reached an understanding with him. He was a charmingyouth, so it was easily arranged. "

Rouletabille was eating away now at strange viands that it would havebeen difficult for him to name. Matrena Petrovna laid her fat littlehand on his arm:

"You speak seriously?"

"Very seriously. "

"A small glass of vodka?"

"No alcohol. "

Madame Matrena emptied her little glass at a draught. 

"And how did you discover him? How did you know him?"

"First, he wore glasses. All Nihilists wear glasses when traveling. Andthen I had a good clew. A minute before the departure from Paris I had afriend go into the corridor of the sleeping-car, a reporter who would doanything I said without even wanting to know why. I said, 'You call outsuddenly and very loud, "Hello, here is Rouletabille. "' So he called, 'Hello, here is Rouletabille, ' and all those who were in the corridorturned and all those who were already in the compartments came out, excepting the man with the glasses. Then I was sure about him. "

Madame Trebassof looked at Rouletabile, who turned as red as the comb ofa rooster and was rather embarrassed at his fatuity. 

"That deserves a rebuff, I know, madame, but from the moment the Emperorof all the Russias had desired to see me I could not admit that any mereman with glasses had not the curiosity to see what I looked like. Itwas not natural. As soon as the train was off I sat down by this man andtold him who I thought he was. I was right. He removed his glasses and, looking me straight in the eyes, said he was glad to have a little talkwith me before anything unfortunate happened. A half-hour later theentente-cordiale was signed. I gave him to understand that I was cominghere simply on business as a reporter and that there was always time tocheck me if I should be indiscreet. At the German frontier he left me togo on, and returned tranquilly to his nitro-glycerine. "

"You are a marked man also, my poor boy. "

"Oh, they have not got us yet. "

Matrena Petrovna coughed. That _us_ overwhelmed her. With what calmnessthis boy that she had not known an hour proposed to share the dangersof a situation that excited general pity but from which the bravest keptaloof either from prudence or dismay. 

"Ah, my friend, a little of this fine smoked Hamburg beef?"

But the young man was already pouring out fresh yellow beer. 

"There, " said he. "Now, madame, I am listening. Tell me first about theearliest attack. "

"Now, " said Matrena, "we must go to dinner. "

Rouletabille looked at her wide-eyed. 

"But, madame, what have I just been doing?"

Madame Matrena smiled. All these strangers were alike. Because theyhad eaten some hors-d'oeuvres, some zakouskis, they imagined their hostwould be satisfied. They did not know how to eat. 

"We will go to the dining-room. The general is expecting you. They areat table. "

"I understand I am supposed to know him. "

"Yes, you have met in Paris. It is entirely natural that in passingthrough St. Petersburg you should make him a visit. You know himvery well indeed, so well that he opens his home to you. Ah, yes, mystep-daughter also"--she flushed a little--"Natacha believes that herfather knows you. "

She opened the door of the drawing-room, which they had to cross inorder to reach the dining-room. 

From his present position Rouletabille could see all the corners ofthe drawing-room, the veranda, the garden and the entrance lodge at thegate. In the veranda the man in the maroon frock-coat trimmed with falseastrakhan seemed still to be asleep on the sofa; in one of the cornersof the drawing-room another individual, silent and motionless as astatue, dressed exactly the same, in a maroon frock-coat with falseastrakhan, stood with his hands behind his back seemingly struck withgeneral paralysis at the sight of a flaring sunset which illumined aswith a torch the golden spires of Saints Peter and Paul. And in thegarden and before the lodge three others dressed in maroon rovedlike souls in pain over the lawn or back and forth at the entrance. Rouletabille motioned to Madame Matrena, stepped back into thesitting-room and closed the door. 

"Police?" he asked. 

Matrena Petrovna nodded her head and put her finger to her mouth in anaive way, as one would caution a child to silence. Rouletabille smiled. 

"How many are there?"

"Ten, relieved every six hours. "

"That makes forty unknown men around your house each day. "

"Not unknown, " she replied. "Police. "

"Yet, in spite of them, you have had the affair of the bouquet in thegeneral's chamber. "

"No, there were only three then. It is since the affair of the bouquetthat there have been ten. "

"It hardly matters. It is since these ten that you have had. .. "

"What?" she demanded anxiously. 

"You know well--the flooring. "

"Sh-h-h. "

She glanced at the door, watching the policeman statuesque before thesetting sun. 

"No one knows that--not even my husband. "

"So M. Koupriane told me. Then it is you who have arranged for these tenpolice-agents?"

"Certainly. "

"Well, we will commence now by sending all these police away. "

Matrena Petrovna grasped his hand, astounded. 

"Surely you don't think of doing such a thing as that!"

"Yes. We must know where the blow is coming from. You have fourdifferent groups of people around here--the police, the domestics, yourfriends, your family. Get rid of the police first. They must not bepermitted to cross your threshold. They have not been able to protectyou. You have nothing to regret. And if, after they are gone, somethingnew turns up, we can leave M. Koupriane to conduct the inquiries withouthis being preoccupied here at the house. "

"But you do not know the admirable police of Koupriane. These brave menhave given proof of their devotion. "

"Madame, if I were face to face with a Nihilist the first thing I wouldask myself about him would be, 'Is he one of the police?' The firstthing I ask in the presence of an agent of your police is, 'Is he not aNihilist?'"

"But they will not wish to go. "

"Do any of them speak French?"

"Yes, their sergeant, who is out there in the salon. "

"Pray call him. "

Madame Trebassof walked into the salon and signaled. The man appeared. Rouletabille handed him a paper, which the other read. 

"You will gather your men together and quit the villa, " orderedRouletabille. "You will return to the police Headguarters. Say to M. Koupriane that I have commanded this and that I require all policeservice around the villa to be suspended until further orders. "

The man bowed, appeared not to understand, looked at Madame Trebassofand said to the young man:

"At your service. "

He went out. 

"Wait here a moment, " urged Madame Trebassof, who did not know how totake this abrupt action and whose anxiety was really painful to see. 

She disappeared after the man of the false astrakhan. A few momentsafterwards she returned. She appeared even more agitated. 

"I beg your pardon, " she murmured, "but I cannot let them go like this. They are much chagrined. They have insisted on knowing where they havefailed in their service. I have appeased them with money. "

"Yes, and tell me the whole truth, madame. You have directed them not togo far away, but to remain near the villa so as to watch it as closelyas possible. "

She reddened. 

"It is true. But they have gone, nevertheless. They had to obey you. What can that paper be you have shown them?"

Rouletabille drew out again the billet covered with seals and signs andcabalistics that he did not understand. Madame Trebassof translated italoud: "Order to all officials in surveillance of the Villa Trebassof toobey the bearer absolutely. Signed: Koupriane. "

"Is it possible!" murmured Matrena Petrovna. "But Koupriane would neverhave given you this paper if he had imagined that you would use it todismiss his agents. "

"Evidently. I have not asked him his advice, madame, you may be sure. But I will see him to-morrow and he will understand. "

"Meanwhile, who is going to watch over him?" cried she. 

Rouletabille took her hands again. He saw her suffering, a prey toanguish almost prostrating. He pitied her. He wished to give herimmediate confidence. 

"We will, " he said. 

She saw his young, clear eyes, so deep, so intelligent, the well-formedyoung head, the willing face, all his young ardency for her, and itreassured her. Rouletabille waited for what she might say. She saidnothing. She took him in her arms and embraced him. 

II. NATACHA

In the dining-room it was Thaddeus Tchnichnikoff's turn to tell huntingstories. He was the greatest timber-merchant in Lithuania. He ownedimmense forests and he loved Feodor Feodorovitch* as a brother, for theyhad played together all through their childhood, and once he had savedhim from a bear that was just about to crush his skull as one mightknock off a hat. General Trebassof's father was governor of Courlande atthat time, by the grace of God and the Little Father. Thaddeus, who wasjust thirteen years old, killed the bear with a single stroke of hisboar-spear, and just in time. Close ties were knit between the twofamilies by this occurrence, and though Thaddeus was neither noble-bornnor a soldier, Feodor considered him his brother and felt toward himas such. Now Thaddeus had become the greatest timber-merchant of thewestern provinces, with his own forests and also with his massive body, his fat, oily face, his bull-neck and his ample paunch. He quittedeverything at once--all his affairs, his family--as soon as he learnedof the first attack, to come and remain by the side of his dear comradeFeodor. He had done this after each attack, without forgetting one. He was a faithful friend. But he fretted because they might not gobear-hunting as in their youth. 'Where, he would ask, are there anybears remaining in Courlande, or trees for that matter, what you couldcall trees, growing since the days of the grand-dukes of Lithuania, giant trees that threw their shade right up to the very edge of thetowns? Where were such things nowadays? Thaddeus was very amusing, for it was he, certainly, who had cut them away tranquilly enoughand watched them vanish in locomotive smoke. It was what was calledProgress. Ah, hunting lost its national character assuredly with tinynew-growth trees which had not had time to grow. And, besides, onenowadays had not time for hunting. All the big game was so far away. Lucky enough if one seized the time to bring down a brace of woodcockearly in the morning. At this point in Thaddeus's conversation therewas a babble of talk among the convivial gentlemen, for they had all thetime in the world at their disposal and could not see why he should beso concerned about snatching a little while at morning or evening, orat midday for that matter. Champagne was flowing like a river whenRouletabille was brought in by Matrena Petrovna. The general, whose eyeshad been on the door for some time, cried at once, as though respondingto a cue:

"Ah, my dear Rouletabille! I have been looking for you. Our friendswrote me you were coming to St. Petersburg. "

 * In this story according to Russian habit General Trebassof is called alternately by that name or the family name Feodor Feodorovitch, and Madame Trebassof by that name or her family name, Matrena Petrovna. --Translator's Note. 

Rouletabille hurried over to him and they shook hands like friends whomeet after a long separation. The reporter was presented to the companyas a close young friend from Paris whom they had enjoyed so much duringtheir latest visit to the City of Light. Everybody inquired for thelatest word of Paris as of a dear acquaintance. 

"How is everybody at Maxim's?" urged the excellent Athanase Georgevitch. 

Thaddeus, too, had been once in Paris and he returned with anenthusiastic liking for the French demoiselles. 

"Vos gogottes, monsieur, " he said, appearing very amiable and leaningon each word, with a guttural emphasis such as is common in the westernprovinces, "ah, vos gogottes!"

Matrena Perovna tried to silence him, but Thaddeus insisted on his rightto appreciate the fair sex away from home. He had a turgid, sentimentalwife, always weeping and cramming her religious notions down his throat. 

Of course someone asked Rouletabille what he thought of Russia, but hehad no more than opened his mouth to reply than Athanase Georgevitchclosed it by interrupting:

"Permettez! Permettez! You others, of the young generation, what do youknow of it? You need to have lived a long time and in all its districtsto appreciate Russia at its true value. Russia, my young sir, is as yeta closed book to you. "

"Naturally, " Rouletabille answered, smiling. 

"Well, well, here's your health! What I would point out to you first ofall is that it is a good buyer of champagne, eh?"--and he gave a hugegrin. "But the hardest drinker I ever knew was born on the banks of theSeine. Did you know him, Feodor Feodorovitch? Poor Charles Dufour, whodied two years ago at fete of the officers of the Guard. He wagered atthe end of the banquet that he could drink a glassful of champagne tothe health of each man there. There were sixty when you came to countthem. He commenced the round of the table and the affair went splendidlyup to the fifty-eighth man. But at the fifty-ninth--think of themisfortune!--the champagne ran out! That poor, that charming, thatexcellent Charles took up a glass of vin dore which was in the glassof this fifty-ninth, wished him long life, drained the glass at onedraught, had just time to murmur, 'Tokay, 1807, ' and fell back dead! Ah, he knew the brands, my word! and he proved it to his last breath! Peaceto his ashes! They asked what he died of. I knew he died because of theinappropriate blend of flavors. There should be discipline in all thingsand not promiscuous mixing. One more glass of champagne and he wouldhave been drinking with us this evening. Your health, Matrena Petrovna. Champagne, Feodor Feodorovitch! Vive la France, monsieur! Natacha, mychild, you must sing something. Boris will accompany you on the guzla. Your father will enjoy it. "

All eyes turned toward Natacha as she rose. 

Rouletabille was struck by her serene beauty. That was the firstenthralling impression, an impression so strong it astonished him, theperfect serenity, the supreme calm, the tranquil harmony of her noblefeatures. Natacha was twenty. Heavy brown hair circled about er foreheadand was looped about her ears, which were half-concealed. Her profilewas clear-cut; her mouth was strong and revealed between red, firm lipsthe even pearliness of her teeth. She was of medium height. In walkingshe had the free, light step of the highborn maidens who, in primaltimes, pressed the flowers as they passed without crushing them. But allher true grace seemed to be concentrated in her eyes, which were deepand of a dark blue. The impression she made upon a beholder was verycomplex. And it would have been difficult to say whether the calm whichpervaded every manifestation of her beauty was the result of consciouscontrol or the most perfect ease. 

She took down the guzla and handed it to Boris, who struck someplaintive preliminary chords. 

"What shall I sing?" she inquired, raising her father's hand from theback of the sofa where he rested and kissing it with filial tenderness. 

"Improvise, " said the general. "Improvise in French, for the sake of ourguest. "

"Oh, yes, " cried Boris; "improvise as you did the other evening. "

He immediately struck a minor chord. 

Natacha looked fondly at her father as she sang:

 "When the moment comes that parts us at the close of day, when the Angel of Sleep covers you with azure wings; "Oh, may your eyes rest from so many tears, and your oppressed heart have calm; "In each moment that we have together, Father dear, let our souls feel harmony sweet and mystical; "And when your thoughts may have flown to other worlds, oh, may my image, at least, nestle within your sleeping eyes. "

Natacha's voice was sweet, and the charm of it subtly pervasive. Thewords as she uttered them seemed to have all the quality of a prayer andthere were tears in all eyes, excepting those of Michael Korsakoff, thesecond orderly, whom Rouletabille appraised as a man with a rough heartnot much open to sentiment. 

"Feodor Feodorovitch, " said this officer, when the young girl's voicehad faded away into the blending with the last note of the guzla, "Feodor Feodorovitch is a man and a glorious soldier who is able tosleep in peace, because he has labored for his country and for hisCzar. "

"Yes, yes. Labored well! A glorious soldier!" repeated AthanaseGeorgevitch and Ivan Petrovitch. "Well may he sleep peacefully. "

"Natacha sang like an angel, " said Boris, the first orderly, in atremulous voice. 

"Like an angel, Boris Nikolaievitch. But why did she speak of his heartoppressed? I don't see that General Trebassof has a heart oppressed, formy part. " Michael Korsakoff spoke roughly as he drained his glass. 

"No, that's so, isn't it?" agreed the others. 

"A young girl may wish her father a pleasant sleep, surely!" saidMatrena Petrovna, with a certain good sense. "Natacha has affected usall, has she not, Feodor?"

"Yes, she made me weep, " declared the general. "But let us havechampagne to cheer us up. Our young friend here will think we arechicken-hearted. "

"Never think that, " said Rouletabille. "Mademoiselle has touched medeeply as well. She is an artist, really a great artist. And a poet. "

"He is from Paris; he knows, " said the others. 

And all drank. 

Then they talked about music, with great display of knowledge concerningthings operatic. First one, then another went to the piano and ranthrough some motif that the rest hummed a little first, then shouted ina rousing chorus. Then they drank more, amid a perfect fracas of talkand laughter. Ivan Petrovitch and Athanase Georgevitch walked across andkissed the general. Rouletabille saw all around him great children whoamused themselves with unbelievable naivete and who drank in a fashionmore unbelievable still. Matrena Petrovna smoked cigarettes of yellowtobacco incessantly, rising almost continually to make a hurriedround of the rooms, and after having prompted the servants to greaterwatchfulness, sat and looked long at Rouletabille, who did not stir, butcaught every word, every gesture of each one there. Finally, sighing, she sat down by Feodor and asked how his leg felt. Michael and Natacha, in a corner, were deep in conversation, and Boris watched them withobvious impatience, still strumming the guzla. But the thing that struckRouletabille's youthful imagination beyond all else was the mild face ofthe general. He had not imagined the terrible Trebassof with so paternaland sympathetic an expression. The Paris papers had printed redoubtablepictures of him, more or less authentic, but the arts of photography andengraving had cut vigorous, rough features of an official--who knew nopity. Such pictures were in perfect accord with the idea one naturallyhad of the dominating figure of the government at Moscow, the man who, during eight days--the Red Week--had made so many corpses of studentsand workmen that the halls of the University and the factories hadopened their doors since in vain. The dead would have had to arise forthose places to be peopled! Days of terrible battle where in one quarteror another of the city there was naught but massacre or burnings, untilMatrena Petrovna and her step-daughter, Natacha (all the papers told ofit), had fallen on their knees before the general and begged terms forthe last of the revolutionaries, at bay in the Presnia quarter, and hadbeen refused by him. "War is war, " had been his answer, with irrefutablelogic. "How can you ask mercy for these men who never give it?" Be itsaid for the young men of the barricades that they never surrendered, and equally be it said for Trebassof that he necessarily shot them. "If I had only myself to consider, " the general had said to a Parisjournalist, "I could have been gentle as a lamb with these unfortunates, and so I should not now myself be condemned to death. After all, I failto see what they reproach me with. I have served my master as a braveand loyal subject, no more, and, after the fighting, I have let othersferret out the children that had hidden under their mothers' skirts. Everybody talks of the repression of Moscow, but let us speak, myfriend, of the Commune. There was a piece of work I would not havedone, to massacre within a court an unresisting crowd of men, women andchildren. I am a rough and faithful soldier of His Majesty, but I amnot a monster, and I have the feelings of a husband and father, my dearmonsieur. Tell your readers that, if you care to, and do not surmisefurther about whether I appear to regret being condemned to death. "

Certainly what stupefied Rouletabille now was this staunch figure ofthe condemned man who appeared so tranquilly to enjoy his life. When thegeneral was not furthering the gayety of his friends he was talking withhis wife and daughter, who adored him and continually fondled him, andhe seemed perfectly happy. With his enormous grizzly mustache, his ruddycolor, his keen, piercing eyes, he looked the typical spoiled father. 

The reporter studied all these widely-different types and made hisobservations while pretending to a ravenous appetite, which served, moreover, to fix him in the good graces of his hosts of the datcha desIles. But, in reality, he passed the food to an enormous bull-dogunder the table, in whose good graces he was also thus firmly plantinghimself. As Trebassof had prayed his companions to let his young friendsatisfy his ravening hunger in peace, they did not concern themselves toentertain him. Then, too, the music served to distract attention fromhim, and at a moment somewhat later, when Matrena Petrovna turned tospeak to the young man, she was frightened at not seeing him. Where hadhe gone? She went out into the veranda and looked. She did not dare tocall. She walked into the grand-salon and saw the reporter just as hecame out of the sitting-room. 

"Where were you?" she inquired. 

"The sitting-room is certainly charming, and decorated exquisitely, "complimented Rouletabille. "It seems almost a boudoir. "

"It does serve as a boudoir for my step-daughter, whose bedroom opensdirectly from it; you see the door there. It is simply for the presentthat the luncheon table is set there, because for some time the policehave pre-empted the veranda. "

"Is your dog a watch-dog, madame?" asked Rouletabille, caressing thebeast, which had followed him. 

"Khor is faithful and had guarded us well hitherto. "

"He sleeps now, then?"

"Yes. Koupriane has him shut in the lodge to keep him from barkingnights. Koupriane fears that if he is out he will devour one of thepolice who watch in the garden at night. I wanted him to sleep in thehouse, or by his master's door, or even at the foot of the bed, butKoupriane said, 'No, no; no dog. Don't rely on the dog. Nothing is moredangerous than to rely on the dog. 'Since then he has kept Khor lockedup at night. But I do not understand Koupriane's idea. "

"Monsieur Koupriane is right, " said the reporter. "Dogs are useful onlyagainst strangers. "

"Oh, " gasped the poor woman, dropping her eyes. "Koupriane certainlyknows his business; he thinks of everything. "

"Come, " she added rapidly, as though to hide her disquiet, "do notgo out like that without letting me know. They want you in thedining-room. "

"I must have you tell me right now about this attempt. "

"In the dining-room, in the dining-room. In spite of myself, " she saidin a low voice, "it is stronger than I am. I am not able to leave thegeneral by himself while he is on the ground-floor. "

She drew Rouletabille into the dining-room, where the gentlemen were nowtelling odd stories of street robberies amid loud laughter. Natacha wasstill talking with Michael Korsakoff; Boris, whose eyes never quittedthem, was as pale as the wax on his guzla, which he rattled violentlyfrom time to time. Matrena made Rouletabille sit in a corner of thesofa, near her, and, counting on her fingers like a careful housewifewho does not wish to overlook anything in her domestic calculations, shesaid:

"There have been three attempts; the first two in Moscow. The firsthappened very simply. The general knew he had been condemned todeath. They had delivered to him at the palace in the afternoon therevoluntionary poster which proclaimed his intended fate to the wholecity and country. So Feodor, who was just about to ride into the city, dismissed his escort. He ordered horses put to a sleigh. I trembled andasked what he was going to do. He said he was going to drive quietlythrough all parts of the city, in order to show the Muscovites that agovernor appointed according to law by the Little Father and who had inhis conscience only the sense that he had done his full duty was not tobe intimidated. It was nearly four o'clock, toward the end of a winterday that had been clear and bright, but very cold. I wrapped myselfin my furs and took my seat beside him, and he said, 'This is fine, Matrena; this will have a great effect on these imbeciles. ' So westarted. At first we drove along the Naberjnaia. The sleigh glided likethe wind. The general hit the driver a heavy blow in the back, crying, 'Slower, fool; they will think we are afraid, ' and so the horseswere almost walking when, passing behind the Church of Protection andintercession, we reached the Place Rouge. Until then the few passers-byhad looked at us, and as they recognized him, hurried along to keephim in view. At the Place Rouge there was only a little knot of womenkneeling before the Virgin. As soon as these women saw us and recognizedthe equipage of the Governor, they dispersed like a flock of crows, withfrightened cries. Feodor laughed so hard that as we passed underthe vault of the Virgin his laugh seemed to shake the stones. I feltreassured, monsieur. Our promenade continued without any remarkableincident. The city was almost deserted. Everything lay prostrated underthe awful blow of that battle in the street. Feodor said, 'Ah, they giveme a wide berth; they do not know how much I love them, " and all throughthat promenade he said many more charming and delicate things to me. 

"As we were talking pleasantly under our furs we came to la PlaceKoudrinsky, la rue Koudrinsky, to be exact. It was just four o'clock, and a light mist had commenced to mix with the sifting snow, and thehouses to right and left were visible only as masses of shadow. Weglided over the snow like a boat along the river in foggy calm. Then, suddenly, we heard piercing cries and saw shadows of soldiers rushingaround, with movements that looked larger than human through the mist;their short whips looked enormous as they knocked some other shadowsthat we saw down like logs. The general stopped the sleigh and got outto see what was going on. I got out with him. They were soldiers of thefamous Semenowsky regiment, who had two prisoners, a young man and achild. The child was being beaten on the nape of the neck. It writhedon the ground and cried in torment. It couldn't have been more than nineyears old. The other, the young man, held himself up and marchedalong without a single cry as the thongs fell brutally upon him. I wasappalled. I did not give my husband time to open his mouth before Icalled to the subaltern who commanded the detachment, 'You should beashamed to strike a child and a Christian like that, which cannot defenditself. ' The general told him the same thing. Then the subaltern toldus that the little child had just killed a lieutenant in the street byfiring a revolver, which he showed us, and it was the biggest one Iever have seen, and must have been as heavy for that infant to lift as asmall cannon. It was unbelievable. 

"'And the other, ' demanded the general; 'what has he done?'

"'He is a dangerous student, ' replied the subaltern, 'who has deliveredhimself up as a prisoner because he promised the landlord of the housewhere he lives that he would do it to keep the house from being battereddown with cannon. '

"'But that is right of him. Why do you beat him?'

"'Because he has told us he is a dangerous student. '

"'That is no reason, ' Feodor told him. 'He will be shot if he deservesit, and the child also, but I forbid you to beat him. You have not beenfurnished with these whips in order to beat isolated prisoners, but tocharge the crowd when it does not obey the governor's orders. In such acase you are ordered "Charge, " and you know what to do. You understand?'Feodor said roughly. 'I am General Trebassof, your governor. '

"Feodor was thoroughly human in saying this. Ah, well, he was badlycompensed for it, very badly, I tell you. The student was trulydangerous, because he had no sooner heard my husband say, 'I am GeneralTrebassof, your governor, ' than he cried, 'Ah, is it you, Trebassoff'and drew a revolver from no one knows where and fired straight atthe general, almost against his breast. But the general was not hit, happily, nor I either, who was by him and had thrown myself onto thestudent to disarm him and then was tossed about at the feet of thesoldiers in the battle they waged around the student while the revolverwas going off. Three soldiers were killed. You can understand that theothers were furious. They raised me with many excuses and, all together, set to kicking the student in the loins and striking at him as he lay onthe ground. The subaltern struck his face a blow that might have blindedhim. Feodor hit the officer in the head with his fist and called, 'Didn't you hear what I said?' The officer fell under the blow andFeodor himself carried him to the sleigh and laid him with the deadmen. Then he took charge of the soldiers and led them to the barracks. I followed, as a sort of after-guard. We returned to the palace an hourlater. It was quite dark by then, and almost at the entrance to thepalace we were shot at by a group of revolutionaries who passed swiftlyin two sleighs and disappeared in the darkness so fast that they couldnot be overtaken. I had a ball in my toque. The general had not beentouched this time either, but our furs were ruined by the blood of thedead soldiers which they had forgotten to clean out of the sleigh. Thatwas the first attempt, which meant little enough, after all, because itwas fighting in the open. It was some days later that they commenced totry assassination. "

At this moment Ermolai brought in four bottles of champagne and Thaddeusstruck lightly on the piano. 

"Quickly, madame, the second attempt, " said Rouletabille, who wasaking hasty notes on his cuff, never ceasing, meanwhile, to watch theconvivial group and listening with both ears wide open to Matrena. 

"The second happened still in Moscow. We had had a jolly dinner becausewe thought that at last the good old days were back and good citizenscould live in peace; and Boris had tried out the guzla singing songs ofthe Orel country to please me; he is so fine and sympathetic. Natachahad gone somewhere or other. The sleigh was waiting at the door and wewent out and got in. Almost instantly there was a fearful noise, and wewere thrown out into the snow, both the general and me. There remainedno trace of sleigh or coachman; the two horses were disemboweled, twomagnificent piebald horses, my dear young monsieur, that the generalwas so attached to. As to Feodor, he had that serious wound in his rightleg; the calf was shattered. I simply had my shoulder a little wrenched, practically nothing. The bomb had been placed under the seat of theunhappy coachman, whose hat alone we found, in a pool of blood. Fromthat attack the general lay two months in bed. In the second month theyarrested two servants who were caught one night on the landing leadingto the upper floor, where they had no business, and after that I sentat once for our old domestics in Orel to come and serve us. Itwas discovered that these detected servants were in touch withthe revolutionaries, so they were hanged. The Emperor appointed aprovisional governor, and now that the general was better we decidedon a convalescence for him in the midi of France. We took train forSt. Petersburg, but the journey started high fever in my husband andreopened the wound in his calf. The doctors ordered absolute rest and sowe settled here in the datcha des Iles. Since then, not a day has passedwithout the general receiving an anonymous letter telling him thatnothing can save him from the revenge of the revolutionaries. He isbrave and only smiles over them, but for me, I know well that so long aswe are in Russia we have not a moment's security. So I watch him everyminute and let no one approach him except his intimate friends and usof the family. I have brought an old gniagnia who watched me grow up, Ermolai, and the Orel servants. In the meantime, two months later, thethird attempt suddenly occurred. It is certainly of them all the mostfrightening, because it is so mysterious, a mystery that has not yet, alas, been solved. "

But Athanase Georgevitch had told a "good story" which raised so muchhubbub that nothing else could be heard. Feodor Feodorovitch was soamused that he had tears in his eyes. Rouletabille said to himselfas Matrena talked, "I never have seen men so gay, and yet they knowperfectly they are apt to be blown up all together any moment. "

General Trebassof, who had steadily watched Rouletabille, who, for thatmatter, had been kept in eye by everyone there, said:

"Eh, eh, monsieur le journaliste, you find us very gay?"

"I find you very brave, " said Rouletabille quietly. 

"How is that?" said Feodor Feodorovitch, smiling. 

"You must pardon me for thinking of the things that you seem to haveforgotten entirely. "

He indicated the general's wounded leg. 

"The chances of war! the chances of war!" said the general. "A leg here, an arm there. But, as you see, I am still here. They will end by growingtired and leaving me in peace. Your health, my friend!"

"Your health, general!"

"You understand, " continued Feodor Feodorovitch, "there is no occasionto excite ourselves. It is our business to defend the empire at theperil of our lives. We find that quite natural, and there is no occasionto think of it. I have had terrors enough in other directions, not tospeak of the terrors of love, that are more ferocious than you canyet imagine. Look at what they did to my poor friend the Chief of theSurete, Boichlikoff. He was commendable certainly. There was a braveman. Of an evening, when his work was over, he always left the bureau ofthe prefecture and went to join his wife and children in their apartmentin the ruelle des Loups. Not a soldier! No guard! The others had everychance. One evening a score of revolutionaries, after having driven awaythe terrorized servants, mounted to his apartments. He was dining withhis family. They knocked and he opened the door. He saw who they were, and tried to speak. They gave him no time. Before his wife and children, mad with terror and on their knees before the revolutionaries, they readhim his death-sentence. A fine end that to a dinner!"

As he listened Rouletabille paled and he kept his eyes on the door asif he expected to see it open of itself, giving access to ferociousNihilists of whom one, with a paper in his hand, would read the sentenceof death to Feodor Feodorovitch. Rouletabille's stomach was not yetseasoned to such stories. He almost regretted, momentarily, havingtaken the terrible responsibility of dismissing the police. After whatKoupriane had confided to him of things that had happened in this house, he had not hesitated to risk everything on that audacious decision, butall the same, all the same--these stories of Nihilists who appear at theend of a meal, death-sentence in hand, they haunted him, they upset him. Certainly it had been a piece of foolhardiness to dismiss the police!

"Well, " he asked, conquering his misgivings and resuming, as always, hisconfidence in himself, "then, what did they do then, after reading thesentence?"

"The Chief of the Surete knew he had no time to spare. He did not askfor it. The revolutionaries ordered him to bid his family farewell. He raised his wife, his children, clasped them, bade them be of goodcourage, then said he was ready. They took him into the street. Theystood him against a wall. His wife and children watched from a window. A volley sounded. They descended to secure the body, pierced withtwenty-five bullets. "

"That was exactly the number of wounds that were made on the body oflittle Jacques Zloriksky, " came in the even tones of Natacha. 

"Oh, you, you always find an excuse, " grumbled the general. "PoorBoichlikoff did his duty, as I did mine. 

"Yes, papa, you acted like a soldier. That is what the revolutionariesought not to forget. But have no fears for us, papa; because if theykill you we will all die with you. "

"And gayly too, " declared Athanase Georgevitch. 

"They should come this evening. We are in form!"

Upon which Athanase filled the glasses again. 

"None the less, permit me to say, " ventured the timber-merchant, Thaddeus Tchnitchnikof, timidly, "permit me to say that this Boichlikoffwas very imprudent. "

"Yes, indeed, very gravely imprudent, " agreed Rouletabille. "When a manhas had twenty-five good bullets shot into the body of a child, he oughtcertainly to keep his home well guarded if he wishes to dine in peace. "

He stammered a little toward the end of this, because it occurred to himthat it was a little inconsistent to express such opinions, seeing whathe had done with the guard over the general. 

"Ah, " cried Athanase Georgevitch, in a stage-struck voice, "Ah, it wasnot imprudence! It was contempt of death! Yes, it was contempt of deaththat killed him! Even as the contempt of death keeps us, at this moment, in perfect health. To you, ladies and gentlemen! Do you know anythinglovelier, grander, in the world than contempt of death? Gaze on FeodorFeodorovitch and answer me. Superb! My word, superb! To you all! Therevolutionaries who are not of the police are of the same mind regardingour heroes. They may curse the tchinownicks who execute the terribleorders given them by those higher up, but those who are not of thepolice (there are some, I believe)--these surely recognize that men likethe Chief of the Surete our dead friend, are brave. "

"Certainly, " endorsed the general. "Counting all things, they need moreheroism for a promenade in a salon than a soldier on a battle-field. "

"I have met some of these men, " continued Athanase in exalted vein. "Ihave found in all their homes the same--imprudence, as our young Frenchfriend calls it. A few days after the assassination of the Chief ofPolice in Moscow I was received by his successor in the same place wherethe assassination had occurred. He did not take the slightest precautionwith me, whom he did not know at all, nor with men of the middle classwho came to present their petitions, in spite of the fact that it wasunder precisely identical conditions that his predecessor had beenslain. Before I left I looked over to where on the floor there had sorecently occurred such agony. They had placed a rug there and on the ruga table, and on that table there was a book. Guess what book. 'Women'sStockings, ' by Willy! And--and then--Your health, Matrena Petrovna. What's the odds!"

"You yourselves, my friends, " declared the general, "prove your greatcourage by coming to share the hours that remain of my life with me. "

"Not at all, not at all! It is war. "

"Yes, it is war. "

"Oh, there's no occasion to pat us on the shoulder, Athanase, " insistedThaddeus modestly. "What risk do we run? We are well guarded. "

"We are protected by the finger of God, " declared Athanase, "because thepolice--well, I haven't any confidence in the police. "

Michael Korsakoff, who had been for a turn in the garden, entered duringthe remark. 

"Be happy, then, Athanase Georgevitch, " said he, "for there are now nopolice around the villa. "

"Where are they?" inquired the timber-merchant uneasily. 

"An order came from Koupriane to remove them, " explained MatrenaPetrovna, who exerted herself to appear calm. 

"And are they not replaced?" asked Michael. 

"No. It is incomprehensible. There must have been some confusion in theorders given. " And Matrena reddened, for she loathed a lie and it wasin tribulation of spirit that she used this fable under Rouletabille'sdirections. 

"Oh, well, all the better, " said the general. "It will give me pleasureto see my home ridded for a while of such people. "

Athanase was naturally of the same mind as the general, and whenThaddeus and Ivan Petrovitch and the orderlies offered to pass thenight at the villa and take the place of the absent police, FeodorFeodorovitch caught a gesture from Rouletabille which disapproved theidea of this new guard. 

"No, no, " cried the general emphatically. "You leave at the usual time. I want now to get back into the ordinary run of things, my word! Tolive as everyone else does. We shall be all right. Koupriane and I havearranged the matter. Koupriane is less sure of his men, after all, than I am of my servants. You understand me. I do not need to explainfurther. You will go home to bed--and we will all sleep. Those are theorders. Besides, you must remember that the guard-post is only a stepfrom here, at the corner of the road, and we have only to give a signalto bring them all here. But--more secret agents or special police--no, no! Good-night. All of us to bed now!"

They did not insist further. When Feodor had said, "Those are theorders, " there was room for nothing more, not even in the way of politeinsistence. 

But before going to their beds all went into the veranda, whereliqueurs were served by the brave Ermolai, as always. Matrena pushedthe wheel-chair of the general there, and he kept repeating, "No, no. Nomore such people. No more police. They only bring trouble. "

"Feodor! Feodor!" sighed Matrena, whose anxiety deepened in spite of allshe could do, "they watched over your dear life. "

"Life is dear to me only because of you, Matrena Petrovna. "

"And not at all because of me, papa?" said Natacha. 

"Oh, Natacha!"

He took both her hands in his. It was an affecting glimpse of familyintimacy. 

From time to time, while Ermolai poured the liqueurs, Feodor struck hisband on the coverings over his leg. 

"It gets better, " said he. "It gets better. "

Then melancholy showed in his rugged face, and he watched night deepenover the isles, the golden night of St. Petersburg. It was not quite yetthe time of year for what they call the golden nights there, the "whitenights, " nights which never deepen to darkness, but they were alreadybeautiful in their soft clarity, caressed, here by the Gulf of Finland, almost at the same time by the last and the first rays of the sun, bytwilight and dawn. 

From the height of the veranda one of the most beautiful bits of theisles lay in view, and the hour was so lovely that its charm thrilledthese people, of whom several, as Thaddeus, were still close to nature. It was he, first, who called to Natacha:

"Natacha! Natacha! Sing us your 'Soir des Iles. '"

Natacha's voice floated out upon the peace of the islands under thedim arched sky, light and clear as a night rose, and the guzla of Borisaccompanied it. Natacha sang:

"This is the night of the Isles--at the north of the world. The skypresses in its stainless arms the bosom of earth, Night kisses the rosethat dawn gave to the twilight. And the night air is sweet and freshfrom across the shivering gulf, Like the breath of young girls from theworld still farther north. Beneath the two lighted horizons, sinking andrising at once, The sun rolls rebounding from the gods at the north ofthe world. In this moment, beloved, when in the clear shadows of thisrose-stained evening I am here alone with you, Respond, respond with aheart less timid to the holy, accustomed cry of 'Good-evening. '"

Ah, how Boris Nikolaievitch and Michael Korsakoff watched her as shesang! Truly, no one ever can guess the anger or the love that broods ina Slavic heart under a soldier's tunic, whether the soldier wisely playsat the guzla, as the correct Boris, or merely lounges, twirling hismustache with his manicured and perfumed fingers, like Michael, theindifferent. 

Natacha ceased singing, but all seemed to be listening to her still--theconvivial group on the terrace appeared to be held in charmed attention, and the porcelain statuettes of men on the lawn, according to the modeof the Iles, seemed to lift on their short legs the better to hear passthe sighing harmony of Natacha in the rose nights at the north of theworld. 

Meanwhile Matrena wandered through the house from cellar to attic, watching over her husband like a dog on guard, ready to bite, to throwitself in the way of danger, to receive the blows, to die for itsmaster--and hunting for Rouletabille, who had disappeared again. 

III. THE WATCH

She went out to caution the servants to a strict watch, armed to theteeth, before the gate all night long, and she crossed the desertedgarden. Under the veranda the schwitzar was spreading a mattress forErmolai. She asked him if he had seen the young Frenchman anywhere, andafter the answer, could only say to herself, "Where is he, then?" Wherehad Rouletabille gone? The general, whom she had carried up to hisroom on her back, without any help, and had helped into bed withoutassistance, was disturbed by this singular disappearance. Had someonealready carried off "their" Rouletabille? Their friends were gone andthe orderlies had taken leave without being able to say where this boyof a journalist had gone. But it would be foolish to worry about thedisappearance of a Journalist, they had said. That kind of man--thesejournalists--came, went, arrived when one least expected them, andquitted their company--even the highest society--without formality. Itwas what they called in France "leaving English fashion. " However, it appeared it was not meant to be impolite. Perhaps he had gone totelegraph. A journalist had to keep in touch with the telegraph at allhours. Poor Matrena Petrovna roamed the solitary garden in tumult ofheart. There was the light in the general's window on the first floor. There were lights in the basement from the kitchens. There was a lighton the ground-floor near the sitting-room, from Natacha's chamberwindow. Ah, the night was hard to bear. And this night the shadowsweighed heavier than ever on the valiant breast of Matrena. As shebreathed she felt as though she lifted all the weight of the threateningnight. She examined everything--everything. All was shut tight, wasperfectly secure, and there was no one within excepting people she wasabsolutely sure of--but whom, all the same, she did not allow to goanywhere in the house excepting where their work called them. Each inhis place. That made things surer. She wished each one could remainfixed like the porcelain statues of men out on the lawn. Even as shethought it, here at her feet, right at her very feet, a shadow of oneof the porcelain men moved, stretched itself out, rose to its knees, grasped her skirt and spoke in the voice of Rouletabille. Ah, good! itwas Rouletabille. "Himself, dear madame; himself. "

"Why is Ermolai in the veranda? Send him back to the kitchens and tellthe schwitzar to go to bed. The servants are enough for an ordinaryguard outside. Then you go in at once, shut the door, and don't concernyourself about me, dear madame. Good-night. "

Rouletabille had resumed, in the shadows, among the other porcelainfigures, his pose of a porcelain man. 

Matrena Petrovna did as she was told, returned to the house, spoke tothe schwitzar, who removed to the lodge with Ermolai, and their mistressclosed the outside door. She had closed long before the door of thekitchen stair which allowed the domestics to enter the villa from below. Down there each night the devoted gniagnia and the faithful Ermolaiwatched in turn. 

Within the villa, now closed, there were on the ground-floor onlyMatrena herself and her step-daughter Natacha, who slept in the chamberoff the sitting-room, and, above on the first floor, the general asleep, or who ought to be asleep if he had taken his potion. Matrena remainedin the darkness of the drawing-room, her dark-lantern in her hand. All her nights passed thus, gliding from door to door, from chamber tochamber, watching over the watch of the police, not daring to stop herstealthy promenade even to throw herself on the mattress that she hadplaced across the doorway of her husband's chamber. Did she ever sleep?She herself could hardly say. Who else could, then? A tag of sleep hereand there, over the arm of a chair, or leaning against the wall, wakedalways by some noise that she heard or dreamed, some warning, perhaps, that she alone had heard. And to-night, to-night there is Rouletabille'salert guard to help her, and she feels a little less the aching terrorof watchfulness, until there surges back into her mind the recollectionthat the police are no longer there. Was he right, this young man?Certainly she could not deny that some way she feels more confidence nowthat the police are gone. She does not have to spend her time watchingtheir shadows in the shadows, searching the darkness, the arm-chairs, the sofas, to rouse them, to appeal in low tones to all they heldbinding, by their own name and the name of their father, to promise thema bonus that would amount to something if they watched well, to countthem in order to know where they all were, and, suddenly, to throw fullin their face the ray of light from her little dark-lantern in order tobe sure, absolutely sure, that she was face to face with them, one ofthe police, and not with some other, some other with an infernal machineunder his arm. Yes, she surely had less work now that she had no longerto watch the police. And she had less fear!

She thanked the young reporter for that. Where was he? Did he remain inthe pose of a porcelain statue all this time out there on the lawn? Shepeered through the lattice of the veranda shutters and looked anxiouslyout into the darkened garden. Where could he be? Was that he, downyonder, that crouching black heap with an unlighted pipe in his mouth?No, no. That, she knew well, was the dwarf she genuinely loved, herlittle domovoi-doukh, the familiar spirit of the house, who watched withher over the general's life and thanks to whom serious injury had notyet befallen Feodor Feodorovitch--one could not regard a mangled legthat seriously. Ordinarily in her own country (she was from the Oreldistrict) one did not care to see the domovoi-doukh appear in flesh andblood. When she was little she was always afraid that she would comeupon him around a turn of the path in her father's garden. She alwaysthought of him as no higher than that, seated back on his haunches andsmoking his pipe. Then, after she was married, she had suddenly runacross him at a turning in the bazaar at Moscow. He was just as shehad imagined him, and she had immediately bought him, carried himhome herself and placed him, with many precautions, for he was of verydelicate porcelain, in the vestibule of the palace. And in leavingMoscow she had been careful not to leave him there. She had carried himherself in a case and had placed him herself on the lawn of the datchades Iles, that he might continue to watch over her happiness and overthe life of her Feodor. And in order that he should not be bored, eternally smoking his pipe all alone, she had surrounded him with agroup of little porcelain genii, after the fashion of the Jardins desIles. Lord! how that young Frenchman had frightened her, rising suddenlylike that, without warning, on the lawn. She had believed for a momentthat it was the domovoi-doukh himself rising to stretch his legs. Happily he had spoken at once and she had recognized his voice. Andbesides, her domovoi surely would not speak French. Ah! Matrena Petrovnabreathed freely now. It seemed to her, this night, that there were twolittle familiar genii watching over the house. And that was worth morethan all the police in the world, surely. How wily that little fellowwas to order all those men away. There was something it was necessaryto know; it was necessary therefore that nothing should be in the wayof learning it. As things were now, the mystery could operate withoutsuspicion or interference. Only one man watched it, and he had not theair of watching. Certainly Rouletabille had not the air of constantlywatching anything. He had the manner, out in the night, of an easylittle man in porcelain, neither more nor less, yet he couldsee everything--if anything were there to see--and he could heareverything--if there were anything to hear. One passed beside himwithout suspecting him, and men might talk to each other without an ideathat he heard them, and even talk to themselves according to the habitpeople have sometimes when they think themselves quite alone. All theguests had departed thus, passing close by him, almost brushing him, had exchanged their "Adieus, " their "Au revoirs, " and all their final, drawn-out farewells. That dear little living domovoi certainly was arogue! Oh, that dear little domovoi who had been so affected by thetears of Matrena Petrovna! The good, fat, sentimental, heroic womanlonged to hear, just then, his reassuring voice. 

"It is I. Here I am, " said the voice of her little living familiarspirit at that instant, and she felt her skirt grasped. She waitedfor what he should say. She felt no fear. Yet she had supposed he wasoutside the house. Still, after all, she was not too astonished that hewas within. He was so adroit! He had entered behind her, in the shadowof her skirts, on all-fours, and had slipped away without anyonenoticing him, while she was speaking to her enormous, majesticschwitzar. 

"So you were here?" she said, taking his hand and pressing it nervouslyin hers. 

"Yes, yes. I have watched you closing the house. It is a task well-done, certainly. You have not forgotten anything. "

"But where were you, dear little demon? I have been into all thecorners, and my hands did not touch you. "

"I was under the table set with hors-d'oeuvres in the sitting-room. "

"Ah, under the table of zakouskis! I have forbidden them before nowto spread a long hanging cloth there, which obliges me to kick my footunderneath casually in order to be sure there is no one beneath. It isimprudent, very imprudent, such table-cloths. And under the table ofzakouskis have you been able to see or hear anything?"

"Madame, do you think that anyone could possibly see or hear anything inthe villa when you are watching it alone, when the general is asleep andyour step-daughter is preparing for bed?"

"No. No. I do not believe so. I do not. No, oh, Christ!"

They talked thus very low in the dark, both seated in a corner of thesofa, Rouletabille's hand held tightly in the burning hands of MatrenaPetrovna. 

She sighed anxiously. "And in the garden--have you heard anything?"

"I heard the officer Boris say to the officer Michael, in French, 'Shallwe return at once to the villa?' The other replied in Russian in a way Icould see was a refusal. Then they had a discussion in Russian which I, naturally, could not understand. But from the way they talked I gatheredthat they disagreed and that no love was lost between them. "

"No, they do not love each other. They both love Natacha. "

"And she, which one of them does she love? It is necessary to tell me. "

"She pretends that she loves Boris, and I believe she does, and yet sheis very friendly with Michael and often she goes into nooks and cornersto chat with him, which makes Boris mad with jealousy. She has forbiddenBoris to speak to her father about their marriage, on the pretext thatshe does not wish to leave her father now, while each day, each minutethe general's life is in danger. "

"And you, madame--do you love your step-daughter?" brutally inquired thereporter. 

"Yes--sincerely, " replied Matrena Petrovna, withdrawing her hand fromthose of Rouletabille. 

"And she--does she love you?"

"I believe so, monsieur, I believe so sincerely. Yes, she loves me, and there is not any reason why she should not love me. Ibelieve--understand me thoroughly, because it comes from my heart--thatwe all here in this house love one another. Our friends are old provedfriends. Boris has been orderly to my husband for a very long time. We do not share any of his too-modern ideas, and there were manydiscussions on the duty of soldiers at the time of the massacres. Ireproached him with being as womanish as we were in going down on hisknees to the general behind Natacha and me, when it became necessary tokill all those poor moujiks of Presnia. It was not his role. A soldieris a soldier. My husband raised him roughly and ordered him, for hispains, to march at the head of the troops. It was right. What else couldhe do? The general already had enough to fight against, with the wholerevolution, with his conscience, with the natural pity in his heart ofa brave man, and with the tears and insupportable moanings, at such amoment, of his daughter and his wife. Boris understood and obeyed him, but, after the death of the poor students, he behaved again like a womanin composing those verses on the heroes of the barricades; don't youthink so? Verses that Natacha and he learned by heart, working together, when they were surprised at it by the general. There was a terriblescene. It was before the next-to-the-last attack. The general then hadthe use of both legs. He stamped his feet and fairly shook the house. "

"Madame, " said Rouletabille, "a propos of the attacks, you must tell meabout the third. "

As he said this, leaning toward her, Matrena Petrovna ejaculated a"Listen!" that made him rigid in the night with ear alert. What had sheheard? For him, he had heard nothing. 

"You hear nothing?" she whispered to him with an effort. "A tick-tack?"

"No, I hear nothing. "

"You know--like the tick-tack of a clock. Listen. "

"How can you hear the tick-tack? I've noticed that no clocks are runninghere. "

"Don't you understand? It is so that we shall be able to hear thetick-tack better. "

"Oh, yes, I understand. But I do not hear anything. "

"For myself, I think I hear the tick-tack all the time since the lastattempt. It haunts my ears, it is frightful, to say to one's self: Thereis clockwork somewhere, just about to reach the death-tick--and not toknow where, not to know where! When the police were here I made themall listen, and I was not sure even when they had all listened and saidthere was no tick-tack. It is terrible to hear it in my ear any momentwhen I least expect it. Tick-tack! Tick-tack! It is the blood beatingin my ear, for instance, hard, as if it struck on a sounding-board. Why, here are drops of perspiration on my hands! Listen!"

"Ah, this time someone is talking--is crying, " said the young man. 

"Sh-h-h!" And Rouletabille felt the rigid hand of Matrena Petrovna onhis arm. "It is the general. The general is dreaming!"

She drew him into the dining-room, into a corner where they could nolonger hear the moanings. But all the doors that communicated with thedining-room, the drawing-room and the sitting-room remained open behindhim, by the secret precaution of Rouletabille. 

He waited while Matrena, whose breath he heard come hard, was a littlebehind. In a moment, quite talkative, and as though she wished todistract Rouletabille's attention from the sounds above, the brokenwords and sighs, she continued:

"See, you speak of clocks. My husband has a watch which strikes. Well, I have stopped his watch because more than once I have been startled byhearing the tick-tack of his watch in his waistcoat-pocket. Kouprianegave me that advice one day when he was here and had pricked his earsat the noise of the pendulums, to stop all my watches and clocks so thatthere would be no chance of confusing them with the tick-tack that mightcome from an infernal machine planted in some corner. He spoke fromexperience, my dear little monsieur, and it was by his order that allthe clocks at the Ministry, on the Naberjnaia, were stopped, my dearlittle friend. The Nihilists, he told me, often use clockworks to setoff their machines at the time they decide on. No one can guess all theinventions that they have, those brigands. In the same way, Kouprianeadvised me to take away all the draught-boards from the fireplaces. Bythat precaution they were enabled to avoid a terrible disaster at theMinistry near the Pont-des-chantres, you know, petit demovoi? They saw abomb just as it was being lowered into the fire-place of the minister'scabinet. * The Nihilists held it by a cord and were up on the roofletting it down the chimney. One of them was caught, taken toSchlusselbourg and hanged. Here you can see that all thedraught-boards of the fireplaces are cleared away. "

 *Actual attack on Witte. 

"Madame, " interrupted Rouletabille (Matrena Petrovna did not know thatno one ever succeeded in distracting Rouletabille's attention), "madame, someone moans still, upstairs. "

"Oh, that is nothing, my little friend. It is the general, who has badnights. He cannot sleep without a narcotic, and that gives him a fever. I am going to tell you now how the third attack came about. And then youwill understand, by the Virgin Mary, how it is I have yet, always have, the tick-tack in my ears. 

"One evening when the general had got to sleep and I was in my own room, I heard distinctly the tick-tack of clockwork operating. All the clockshad been stopped, as Koupriane advised, and I had made an excuse to sendFeodor's great watch to the repairer. You can understand how I feltwhen I heard that tick-tack. I was frenzied. I turned my head in alldirections, and decided that the sound came from my husband's chamber. Iran there. He still slept, man that he is! The tick-tack was there. Butwhere? I turned here and there like a fool. The chamber was in darknessand it seemed absolutely impossible for me to light a lamp because Ithought I could not take the time for fear the infernal machine would gooff in those few seconds. I threw myself on the floor and listenedunder the bed. The noise came from above. But where? I sprang to thefireplace, hoping that, against my orders, someone had started themantel-clock. No, it was not that! It seemed to me now that thetick-tack came from the bed itself, that the machine was in the bed. Thegeneral awaked just then and cried to me, 'What is it, Matrena? What areyou doing?' And he raised himself in bed, while I cried, 'Listen! Hearthe tick-tack. Don't you hear the tick-tack?' I threw myself upon himand gathered him up in my arms to carry him, but I trembled too much, was too weak from fear, and fell back with him onto the bed, crying, 'Help!' He thrust me away and said roughly, 'Listen. ' The frightfultick-tack was behind us now, on the table. But there was nothing on thetable, only the night-light, the glass with the potion in it, and agold vase where I had placed with my own hands that morning a clusterof grasses and wild flowers that Ermolai had brought that morning on hisreturn from the Orel country. With one bound I was on the table and atthe flowers. I struck my fingers among the grasses and the flowers, andfelt a resistance. The tick-tack was in the bouquet! I took the bouquetin both hands, opened the window and threw it as far as I could into thegarden. At the same moment the bomb burst with a terrible noise, givingme quite a deep wound in the hand. Truly, my dear little domovoi, thatday we had been very near death, but God and the Little Father watchedover us. "

And Matrena Petrovna made the sign of the cross. 

"All the windows of the house were broken. In all, we escaped with thefright and a visit from the glazier, my little friend, but I certainlybelieved that all was over. "

"And Mademoiselle Natacha?" inquired Rouletabille. "She must also havebeen terribly frightened, because the whole house must have rocked. "

"Surely. But Natacha was not here that night. It was a Saturday. Shehad been invited to the soiree du 'Michel' by the parents of BorisNikolaievitch, and she slept at their house, after supper at the Ours, as had been planned. The next day, when she learned the danger thegeneral had escaped, she trembled in every limb. She threw herself inher father's arms, weeping, which was natural enough, and declared thatshe never would go away from him again. The general told her how I hadmanaged. Then she pressed me to her heart, saying that she never wouldforget such an action, and that she loved me more than if I were trulyher mother. It was all in vain that during the days following we soughtto understand how the infernal machine had been placed in the bouquetof wild flowers. Only the general's friends that you saw this evening, Natacha and I had entered the general's chamber during the day or inthe evening. No servant, no chamber-maid, had been on that floor. Inthe day-time as well as all night long that entire floor is closed and Ihave the keys. The door of the servants' staircase which opens onto thatfloor, directly into the general's chamber, is always locked and barredon the inside with iron. Natacha and I do the chamber work. There is noway of taking greater precautions. Three police agents watched overus night and day. The night of the bouquet two had spent their timewatching around the house, and the third lay on the sofa in the veranda. Then, too, we found all the doors and windows of the villa shut tight. In such circumstances you can judge whether my anguish was not deeperthan any I had known hitherto. Because to whom, henceforth, could wetrust ourselves? what and whom could we believe? what and whom could wewatch? From that day, no other person but Natacha and me have the rightto go to the first floor. The general's chamber was forbidden to hisfriends. Anyway, the general improved, and soon had the pleasure ofreceiving them himself at his table. I carry the general down and takehim to his room again on my back. I do not wish anyone to help. I amstrong enough for that. I feel that I could carry him to the end of theworld if that would save him. Instead of three police, we had ten; fiveoutside, five inside. The days went well enough, but the nights werefrightful, because the shadows of the police that I encountered alwaysmade me fear that I was face to face with the Nihilists. One night Ialmost strangled one with my hand. It was after that incident that wearranged with Koupriane that the agents who watched at night, inside, should stay placed in the veranda, after having, at the end of theevening, made complete examination of everything. They were not to leavethe veranda unless they heard a suspicious noise or I called to them. And it was after that arrangement that the incident of the floorhappened, that has puzzled so both Koupriane and me. "

"Pardon, madame, " interrupted Rouletabille, "but the agents, during theexamination of everything, never went to the bedroom floor?"

"No, my child, there is only myself and Natacha, I repeat, who, sincethe bouquet, go there. "

"Well, madame, it is necessary to take me there at once. "

"At once!"

"Yes, into the general's chamber. "

"But he is sleeping, my child. Let me tell you exactly how the affairof the floor happened, and you will know as much of it as I and asKoupriane. "

"To the general's chamber at once. "

She took both his hands and pressed them nervously. "Little friend!Little friend! One hears there sometimes things which are the secret ofthe night! You understand me?"

"To the general's chamber, at once, madame. "

Abruptly she decided to take him there, agitated, upset as she was byideas and sentiments which held her without respite between the wildestinquietude and the most imprudent audacity. 

IV. "THE YOUTH OF MOSCOW IS DEAD"

Rouletabille let himself be led by Matrena through the night, but hestumbled and his awkward hands struck against various things. The ascentto the first floor was accomplished in profound silence. Nothing brokeit except that restless moaning which had so affected the young man justbefore. 

The tepid warmth, the perfume of a woman's boudoir, then, beyond, through two doors opening upon the dressing-room which lay betweenMatrena's chamber and Feodor's, the dim luster of a night-lamp showedthe bed where was stretched the sleeping tyrant of Moscow. Ah, he wasfrightening to see, with the play of faint yellow light and diffusedshadows upon him. Such heavy-arched eyebrows, such an aspect of pain andmenace, the massive jaw of a savage come from the plains of Tartary tobe the Scourge of God, the stiff, thick, spreading beard. This was aform akin to the gallery of old nobles at Kasan, and young Rouletabilleimagined him as none other than Ivan the Terrible himself. Thus appearedas he slept the excellent Feodor Feodorovitch, the easy, spoiled fatherof the family table, the friend of the advocate celebrated for his featswith knife and fork and of the bantering timber-merchant and amiablebear-hunter, the joyous Thaddeus and Athanase; Feodor, the faithfulspouse of Matrena Petrovna and the adored papa of Natacha, a braveman who was so unfortunate as to have nights of cruel sleeplessness ordreams more frightful still. 

At that moment a hoarse sigh heaved his huge chest in an unevenrhythm, and Rouletabille, leaning in the doorway of the dressing-room, watched--but it was no longer the general that he watched, it wassomething else, lower down, beside the wall, near the door, and it wasthat which set him tiptoeing so lightly across the floor that it gaveno sound. There was no slightest sound in the chamber, except the heavybreathing lifting the rough chest. Behind Rouletabille Matrena raisedher arms, as though she wished to hold him back, because she did notknow where he was going. What was he doing? Why did he stoop thus besidethe door and why did he press his thumb all along the floor at thedoorway? He rose again and returned. He passed again before the bed, where rumbled now, like the bellows of a forge, the respiration of thesleeper. Matrena grasped Rouletabille by the hand. And she had alreadyhurried him into the dressing-room when a moan stopped them. 

"The youth of Moscow is dead!"

It was the sleeper speaking. The mouth which had given the stringentorders moaned. And the lamentation was still a menace. In the hauntedsleep thrust upon that man by the inadequate narcotic the words FeodorFeodorovitch spoke were words of mourning and pity. This perfect fiendof a soldier, whom neither bullets nor bombs could intimidate, had a wayof saying words which transformed their meaning as they came from histerrible mouth. The listeners could not but feel absorbed in the tonesof the brutal victor. 

Matrena Petrovna and Rouletabille had leant their two shadows, blendedone into the other, against the open doorway just beyond the gleam ofthe night-lamp, and they heard with horror:

"The youth of Moscow is dead! They have cleared away the corpses. Thereis nothing but ruin left. The Kremlin itself has shut its gates--that itmay not see. The youth of Moscow is dead!"

Feodor Feodorovitch's fist shook above his bed; it seemed that he wasabout to strike, to kill again, and Rouletabille felt Matrena tremblingagainst him, while he trembled as well before the fearful vision of thekiller in the Red Week!

Feodor heaved an immense sigh and his breast descended under thebed-clothes, the fist relaxed and fell, the great head lay over on itsear. There was silence. Had he repose at last? No, no. He sighed, hechoked anew, he tossed on his couch like the damned in torment, andthe words written by his daughter--by his daughter--blazed in his eyes, which now were wide open--words written on the wall, that he read on thewall, written in blood. 

 "The youth of Moscow is dead! They had gone so young into the fields and into the mines, And they had not found a single corner of the Russian land where there were not moanings. Now the youth of Moscow is dead and no more moanings are heard, Because those for whom all youth died do not dare even to moan any more. 

But--what? The voice of Feodor lost its threatening tone. His breathcame as from a weeping child. And it was with sobs in his throat that hesaid the last verse, the verse written by his daughter in the album, inred letters:

 "The last barricade had standing there the girl of eighteen winters, the virgin of Moscow, flower of the snow. Who gave her kisses to the workmen struck by the bullets from the soldiers of the Czar; "She aroused the admiration of the very soldiers who, weeping, killed her: "What killing! All the houses shuttered, the windows with heavy eyelids of plank in order not to see!-- "And the Kremlin itself has closed its gates--that it may not see. "The youth of Moscow is dead!"

"Feodor! Feodor!"

She had caught him in her arms, holding him fast, comforting him whilestill he raved, "The youth of Moscow is dead, " and appeared to thrustaway with insensate gestures a crowd of phantoms. She crushed him toher breast, she put her hands over his mouth to make him stop, but he, saying, "Do you hear? Do you hear? What do they say? They say nothing, now. What a tangle of bodies under the sleigh, Matrena! Look at thosefrozen legs of those poor girls we pass, sticking out in all directions, like logs, from under their icy, blooded skirts. Look, Matrena!"

And then came further delirium uttered in Russian, which was all themore terrible to Rouletabille because he could not comprehend it. 

Then, suddenly, Feodor became silent and thrust away Matrena Petrovna. 

"It is that abominable narcotic, " he said with an immense sigh. "I'lldrink no more of it. I do not wish to drink it. "

With one hand he pointed to a large glass on the table beside him, stillhalf full of a soporific mixture with which he moistened his lips eachtime he woke; with the other hand he wiped the perspiration from hisface. Matrena Petrovna stayed trembling near him, suddenly overpoweredby the idea that he might discover there was someone there behind thedoor, who had seen and heard the sleep of General Trebassof! Ah, if helearned that, everything was over. She might say her prayers; she shoulddie. 

But Rouletabille was careful to give no sign. He barely breathed. Whata nightmare! He understood now the emotion of the general's friends whenNatacha had sung in her low, sweet voice, "Good-night. May your eyeshave rest from tears and calm re-enter your heart oppressed. " Thefriends had certainly been made aware, by Matrena's anxious talking, ofthe general's insomnia, and they could not repress their tears as theylistened to the poetic wish of charming Natacha. "All the same, " thoughtRouletabille, "no one could imagine what I have just seen. They are notdead for everyone in the world, the youths of Moscow, and every night Iknow now a chamber where in the glow of the night-lamp they rise--theyrise--they rise!" and the young man frankly, naively regretted to haveintruded where he was; to have penetrated, however unintentionally, intoan affair which, after all, concerned only the many dead and the oneliving. Why had he come to put himself between the dead and the living?It might be said to him: "The living has done his whole heroic duty, "but the dead, what else was it that they had done?

Ah, Rouletabille cursed his curiosity, for--he saw it now--it was thedesire to approach the mystery revealed by Koupriane and to penetrateonce more, through all the besetting dangers, an astounding and perhapsmonstrous enigma, that had brought him to the threshold of the datchades Iles, which had placed him in the trembling hands of MatrenaPetrovna in promising her his help. He had shown pity, certainly, pityfor the delirious distress of that heroic woman. But there had been morecuriosity than pity in his motives. And now he must pay, because it wastoo late now to withdraw, to say casually, "I wash my hands of it. " Hehad sent away the police and he alone remained between the generaland the vengeance of the dead! He might desert, perhaps! That one ideabrought him to himself, roused all his spirit. Circumstances had broughthim into a camp that he must defend at any cost, unless he was afraid!

The general slept now, or, at least, with eyelids closed simulatedsleep, doubtless in order to reassure poor Matrena who, on her kneesbeside his pillow, had retained the hand of her terrible husband in herown. Shortly she rose and rejoined Rouletabille in her chamber. Shetook him then to a little guest-chamber where she urged him to get somesleep. He replied that it was she who needed rest. But, agitated stillby what had just happened, she babbled:

"No, no! after such a scene I would have nightmares myself as well. Ah, it is dreadful! Appalling! Appalling! Dear little monsieur, it is thesecret of the night. The poor man! Poor unhappy man! He cannot tear histhoughts away from it. It is his worst and unmerited punishment, thistranslation that Natacha has made of Boris's abominable verses. He knowsthem by heart, they are in his brain and on his tongue all night long, in spite of narcotics, and he says over and over again all the time, 'Itis my daughter who has written that!--my daughter!--my daughter!' It isenough to wring all the tears from one's body--that an aide-de-camp of ageneral, who himself has killed the youth of Moscow, is allowed to writesuch verses and that Natacha should take it upon herself to translatethem into lovely poetic French for her album. It is hard to account forwhat they do nowadays, to our misery. "

She ceased, for just then they heard the floor creak under a stepdownstairs. Rouletabille stopped Matrena short and drew his revolver. Hewished to creep down alone, but he had not time. As the floor creakeda second time, Matrena's anguished voice called down the staircasein Russian, "Who is there?" and immediately the calm voice of Natachaanswered something in the same language. Then Matrena, trembling moreand more, and very much excited keeping steadily to the same place asthough she had been nailed to the step of the stairway, said in French, "Yes, all is well; your father is resting. Good-night, Natacha. " Theyheard Natacha's step cross the drawing-room and the sitting-room. Thenthe door of her chamber closed. Matrena and Rouletabille descended, holding their breath. They reached the dining-room and Matrena playedher dark-lantern on the sofa where the general always reclined. The sofawas in its usual place on the carpet. She pushed it back and raised thecarpet, laying the floor bare. Then she got onto her knees and examinedthe floor minutely. She rose, wiping the perspiration from her brow, putthe carpet hack in place, adjusted the sofa and dropped upon it with agreat sigh. 

"Well?" demanded Rouletabille. 

"Nothing at all, " said she. 

"Why did you call so openly?"

"Because there was no doubt that it could only be my step-daughter onthe ground-floor at that hour. "

"And why this anxiety to examine the floor again?"

"I entreat you, my dear little child, do not see in my acts anythingmysterious, anything hard to explain. That anxiety you speak of neverleaves me. Whenever I have the chance I examine the flooring. "

"Madame, " demanded the young man, "what was your daughter doing in thisroom?"

"She came for a glass of mineral water; the bottle is still on thetable. "

"Madame, it is necessary that you tell me precisely what Koupriane hasonly hinted to me, unless I am entirely mistaken. The first time thatyou thought to examine the floor, was it after you heard a noise on theground-floor such as has just happened?"

"Yes. I will tell you all that is necessary. It was the night afterthe attempt with the bouquet, my dear little monsieur, my dear littledomovoi; it seemed to me I heard a noise on the ground-floor. I hurrieddownstairs and saw nothing suspicious at first. Everything was shuttight. I opened the door of Natacha's chamber softly. I wished to askher if she had heard anything. But she was so fast asleep that I had notthe heart to awaken her. I opened the door of the veranda, and all thepolice--all, you understand--slept soundly. I took another turn aroundthe furniture, and, with my lantern in my hand, I was just going outof the dining-room when I noticed that the carpet on the floor wasdisarranged at one corner. I got down and my hand struck a great foldof carpet near the general's sofa. You would have said that the sofa hadbeen rolled carelessly, trying to replace it in the position it usuallyoccupied. Prompted by a sinister presentiment, I pushed away the sofaand I lifted the carpet. At first glance I saw nothing, but when Iexamined things closer I saw that a strip of wood did not lie well withthe others on the floor. With a knife I was able to lift that strip andI found that two nails which had fastened it to the beam below had beenfreshly pulled out. It was just so I could raise the end of the board alittle without being able to slip my hand under. To lift it any more itwould be necessary to pull at least half-a-dozen nails. What could itmean? Was I on the point of discovering some new terrible and mysteriousplan? I let the board fall back into place. I spread the carpet backagain carefully, put the sofa in its place, and in the morning sent forKoupriane. "

Rouletabille interrupted. 

"You had not, madame, spoken to anyone of this discovery?"

"To no one. "

"Not even to your step-daughter?"

"No, " said the husky voice of Matrena, "not even to my step-daughter. "

"Why?" demanded Rouletabille. 

"Because, " replied Matrena, after a moment's hesitation, "there werealready enough frightening things about the house. I would not havespoken to my daughter any more than I would have said a word to thegeneral. Why add to the disquiet they already suffered so much, in casenothing developed?"

"And what did Koupriane say?"

"We examined the floor together, secretly. Koupriane slipped his handunder more easily than I had done, and ascertained that under the board, that is to say between the beam and the ceiling of the kitchen, therewas a hollow where any number of things might be placed. For the momentthe board was still too little released for any maneuver to be possible. Koupriane, when he rose, said to me, 'You have happened, madame, tointerrupt the person in her operations. But we are prepared henceforth. We know what she does and she is unaware that we know. Act as thoughyou had not noticed anything; do not speak of it to anyone whatever--andwatch. Let the general continue to sit in his usual place and let no onesuspect that we have discovered the beginnings of this attempt. It isthe only way we can plan so that they will continue. All the same, ' headded, 'I will give my agents orders to patrol the ground-floor anewduring the night. I would be risking too much to let the person continueher work each night. She might continue it so well that she would beable to accomplish it--you understand me? But by day you arrange thatthe rooms on the ground-floor be free from time to time--not for long, but from time to time. ' I don't know why, but what he said and the wayhe said it frightened me more than ever. However, I carried out hisprogram. Then, three days later, about eight o'clock, when the nightwatch was not yet started, that is to say at the moment when the policewere still all out in the garden or walking around the house, outside, and when I had left the the ground-floor perfectly free while I helpedthe general to bed, I felt drawn even against myself suddenly to thedining-room. I lifted the carpet and examined the floor. Three morenails had been drawn from the board, which lifted more easily now, andunder it, I could see that the normal cavity had been made wider still!"

When she had said this, Matrena stopped, as if, overcome, she could nottell more. 

"Well?" insisted Rouletabille. 

"Well, I replaced things as I found them and made rapid inquiries ofthe police and their chief; no one had entered the ground-floor. Youunderstand me?--no one at all. Neither had anyone come out from it. "

"How could anyone come out if no one had entered?"

"I wish to say, " said she with a sob, "that Natacha during this space oftime had been in her chamber, in her chamber on the ground-floor. "

"You appear to be very disturbed, madame, at this recollection. Can youtell me further, and precisely, why you are agitated?"

"You understand me, surely, " she said, shaking her head. 

"If I understand you correctly, I have to understand that from theprevious time you examined the floor until the time that you noted threemore nails drawn out, no other person could have entered the dining-roombut you and your step-daughter Natacha. "

Matrena took Rouletabille's hand as though she had reached an importantdecision. 

"My little friend, " moaned she, "there are things I am not able to thinkabout and which I can no longer entertain when Natacha embraces me. Itis a mystery more frightful than all else. Koupriane tells me that he issure, absolutely sure, of the agents he kept here; my sole consolation, do you see, my little friend can tell you frankly, now that you havesent away those men--my sole consolation since that day has been thatKoupriane is less sure of his men than I am of Natacha. "

She broke down and sobbed. 

When she was calmed, she looked for Rouletabille, and could notfind him. Then she wiped her eyes, picked up her dark-lantern, and, furtively, crept to her post beside the general. 

For that day these are the points in Rouletabille's notebook:

"Topography: Villa surrounded by a large garden on three sides. Thefourth side gives directly onto a wooded field that stretches to theriver Neva. On this side the level of the ground is much lower, solow that the sole window opening in that wall (the window of Natacha'ssitting-room on the ground-floor) is as high from the ground as thoughit were on the next floor in any other part of the house. This window isclosed by iron shutters, fastened inside by a bar of iron. 

"Friends: Athanase Georgevitch, Ivan Petrovitch, Thaddeus thetimber-merchant (peat boots), Michael and Boris (fine shoes). Matrena, sincere love, blundering heroism. Natacha unknown. Against Natacha:Never there during the attacks. At Moscow at the time of the bomb inthe sleigh, no one knows where she was, and it is she who should haveaccompanied the general (detail furnished by Koupriane that Matrenagenerously kept back). The night of the bouquet is the only nightNatacha has slept away from the house. Coincidence of the disappearanceof the nails and the presence all alone on the ground-floor of Natacha, in case, of course, Matrena did not pull them out herself. For Natacha:Her eyes when she looks at her father. "

And this bizarre phrase:

"We mustn't be rash. This evening I have not yet spoken to MatrenaPetrovna about the little hat-pin. That little hat-pin is the greatestrelief of my life. "

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 wits 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 the 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. 

VI. THE MYSTERIOUS HAND

After the departure of Matrena, Rouletabille turned his attention to thegarden. Neither the marshal of the court nor the officers were there anylonger. The three men had disappeared. Rouletabille wished to knowat once where they had gone. He went rapidly to the gate, named theofficers and the marshal to Ermolai, and Ermolai made a sign that theyhad passed out. Even as he spoke he saw the marshal's carriage disappeararound a corner of the road. As to the two officers, they were nowhereon the roadway. He was surprised that the marshal should have gonewithout seeing Matrena or the general or himself, and, above all, he wasdisquieted by the disappearance of the orderlies. He gathered from thegestures of Ermolai that they had passed before the lodge only afew minutes after the marshal's departure. They had gone together. Rouletabille set himself to follow them, traced their steps in the softearth of the roadway and soon they crossed onto the grass. At this pointthe tracks through the massed ferns became very difficult to follow. Hehurried along, bending close to the ground over such traces as he couldsee, which continually led him astray, but which conducted him finallyto the thing that he sought. A noise of voices made him raise his headand then throw himself behind a tree. Not twenty steps from him Natachaand Boris were having an animated conversation. The young officer heldhimself erect directly in front of her, frowning and impatient. Underthe uniform cloak that he had wrapped about him without having botheredto use the sleeves, which were tossed up over his chest, Boris hadhis arms crossed. His entire attitude indicated hauteur, coldness anddisdain for what he was hearing. Natacha never appeared calmer or moremistress of herself. She talked to him rapidly and mostly in a lowvoice. Sometimes a word in Russian sounded, and then she resumed hercare to speak low. Finally she ceased, and Boris, after a short silence, in which he had seemed to reflect deeply, pronounced distinctly thesewords in French, pronouncing them syllable by syllable, as though togive them additional force:

"You ask a frightful thing of me. "

"It is necessary to grant it to me, " said the young girl with singularenergy. "You understand, Boris Alexandrovitch! It is necessary. "

Her gaze, after she had glanced penetratingly all around her anddiscovered nothing suspicious, rested tenderly on the young officer, while she murmured, "My Boris!" The young man could not resist eitherthe sweetness of that voice, nor the captivating charm of that glance. He took the hand she extended toward him and kissed it passionately. Hiseyes, fixed on Natacha, proclaimed that he granted everything that shewished and admitted himself vanquished. Then she said, always with thatadorable gaze upon him, "This evening!" He replied, "Yes, yes. Thisevening! This evening!" upon which Natacha withdrew her hand and made asign to the officer to leave, which he promptly obeyed. Natacha remainedthere still a long time, plunged in thought. Rouletabille had alreadytaken the road back to the villa. Matrena Petrovna was watching for hisreturn, seated on the first step of the landing on the great staircasewhich ran up from the veranda. When she saw him she ran to him. He hadalready reached the dining-room. 

"Anyone in the house?" he asked. 

"No one. Natacha has not returned, and. .. "

"Your step-daughter is coming in now. Ask her where she has been, if shehas seen the orderlies, and if they said they would return this evening, in case she answers that she has seen them. "

"Very well, little domovoi doukh. The orderlies left without my seeingwhen they went. "

"Ah, " interrupted Rouletabille, "before she arrives, give me all herhat-pins. "

"What!"

"I say, all her hat-pins. Quickly!"

Matrena ran to Natacha's chamber and returned with three enormoushat-pins with beautifully-cut stones in them. 

"These are all?"

"They are all I have found. I know she has two others. She has one onher head, or two, perhaps; I can't find them. "

"Take these back where you found them, " said the reporter, afterglancing at them. 

Matrena returned immediately, not understanding what he was doing. 

"And now, your hat-pins. Yes, your hat-pins. "

"Oh, I have only two, and here they are, " said she, drawing them fromthe toque she had been wearing and had thrown on the sofa when shere-entered the house. 

Rouletabille gave hers the same inspection. 

"Thanks. Here is your step-daughter. "

Natacha entered, flushed and smiling. 

"Ah, well, " said she, quite breathless, "you may boast that I had tosearch for you. I made the entire round, clear past the Barque. Has thepromenade done papa good?"

"Yes, he is asleep, " replied Matrena. "Have you met Boris and Michael?"

She appeared to hesitate a second, then replied:

"Yes, for an instant. "

"Did they say whether they would return this evening?"

"No, " she replied, slightly troubled. "Why all these questions?"

She flushed still more. 

"Because I thought it strange, " parried Matrena, "that they went awayas they did, without saying goodby, without a word, without inquiringif the general needed them. There is something stranger yet. Did you seeKaltsof with them, the grand-marshal of the court?"

"No. "

"Kaltsof came for a moment, entered the garden and went away againwithout seeing us, without saying even a word to the general. "

"Ah, " said Natacha. 

With apparent indifference, she raised her arms and drew out herhat-pins. Rouletabille watched the pin without a word. The young girlhardly seemed aware of their presence. Entirely absorbed in strangethoughts, she replaced the pin in her hat and went to hang it in theveranda, which served also as vestibule. Rouletabille never quitted hereyes. Matrena watched the reporter with a stupid glance. Natacha crossedthe drawing-room and entered her chamber by passing through her littlesitting-room, through which all entrance to her chamber had to be made. That little room, though, had three doors. One opened into Natacha'schamber, one into the drawing-room, and the third into the littlepassage in a corner of the house where was the stairway by which theservants passed from the kitchens to the ground-floor and theupper floor. This passage had also a door giving directly upon thedrawing-room. It was certainly a poor arrangement for serving thedining-room, which was on the other side of the drawing-room and behindthe veranda, such a chance laying-out of a house as one often sees inthe off-hand planning of many places in the country. 

Alone again with Rouletabille, Matrena noticed that he had not lostsight of the corner of the veranda where Natacha had hung her hat. Beside this hat there was a toque that Ermolai had brought in. The oldservant had found it in some corner of the garden or the conservatorywhere he had been. A hat-pin stuck out of that toque also. 

"Whose toque is that?" asked Rouletabille. "I haven't seen it on thehead of anyone here. "

"It is Natacha's, " replied Matrena. 

She moved toward it, but the young man held her back, went into theveranda himself, and, without touching it, standing on tiptoe, heexamined the pin. He sank back on his heels and turned toward Matrena. She caught a glimpse of fleeting emotion on the face of her littlefriend. 

"Explain to me, " she said. 

But he gave her a glance that frightened her, and said low:

"Go and give orders right away that dinner be served in the veranda. All through dinner it is absolutely necessary that the door of Natacha'ssitting-room, and that of the stairway passage, and that of the verandagiving on the drawing-room remain open all the time. Do you understandme? As soon as you have given your orders go to the general's chamberand do not quit the general's bedside, keep it in view. Come down todinner when it is announced, and do not bother yourself about anythingfurther. "

So saying, he filled his pipe, lighted it with a sort of sigh of relief, and, after a final order to Matrena, "Go, " he went into the garden, puffing great clouds. Anyone would have said he hadn't smoked in a week. He appeared not to be thinking but just idly enjoying himself. In fact, he played like a child with Milinki, Matrena's pet cat, which he pursuedbehind the shrubs, up into the little kiosque which, raised on piles, lifted its steep thatched roof above the panorama of the isles thatRouletabille settled down to contemplate like an artist with ampleleisure. 

The dinner, where Matrena, Natacha and Rouletabille were together again, was lively. The young man having declared that he was more and moreconvinced that the mystery of the bomb in the bouquet was simply a playof the police, Natacha reinforced his opinion, and following that theyfound themselves in agreement on about everything else. For himself, thereporter during that conversation hid a real horror which had seized himat the cynical and inappropriate tranquillity with which the young ladyreceived all suggestions that accused the police or that assumed thegeneral no longer ran any immediate danger. In short, he worked, or atleast believed he worked, to clear Natacha as he had cleared Matrena, so that there would develop the absolute necessity of assuming a thirdperson's intervention in the facts disclosed so clearly by Kouprianewhere Matrena or Natacha seemed alone to be possible agents. As helistened to Natacha Rouletabille commenced to doubt and quake just as hehad seen Matrena do. The more he looked into the nature of Natacha thedizzier he grew. What abysmal obscurities were there in her nature!

Nothing interesting happened during dinner. Several times, in spite ofRouletabille's obvious impatience with her for doing it, Matrena went upto the general. She returned saying, "He is quiet. He doesn't sleep. Hedoesn't wish anything. He has asked me to prepare his narcotic. It istoo bad. He has tried in vain, he cannot get along without it. "

"You, too, mamma, ought to take something to make you sleep. They saymorphine is very good. "

"As for me, " said Rouletabille, whose head for some few minutes had beendropping now toward one shoulder and now toward another, "I have no needof any narcotic to make me sleep. If you will permit me, I will get tobed at once. "

"Eh, my little domovoi doukh, I am going to carry you there in my arms. "

Matrena extended her large round arms ready to take Rouletabille asthough he had been a baby. 

"No, no. I will get up there all right alone, " said Rouletabille, risingstupidly and appearing ashamed of his excessive sleepiness. 

"Oh, well, let us both accompany him to his chamber, " said Natacha, "andI will wish papa good-night. I'm eager for bed myself. We will all makea good night of it. Ermolai and Gniagnia will watch with the schwitzarin the lodge. Things are reasonably arranged now. "

They all ascended the stairs. Rouletabille did not even go to see thegeneral, but threw himself on his bed. Natacha got onto the bed besideher father, embraced him a dozen times, and went downstairs again. Matrena followed behind her, closed doors and windows, went upstairsagain to close the door of the landing-place and found Rouletabilleseated on his bed, his arms crossed, not appearing to have any desirefor sleep at all. His face was so strangely pensive also that theanxiety of Matrena, who had been able to make nothing out of his actsand looks all day, came back upon her instantly in greater force thanever. She touched his arm in order to be sure that he knew she wasthere. 

"My little friend, " she said, "will you tell me now?"

"Yes, madame, " he replied at once. "Sit in that chair and listen tome. There are things you must know at once, because we have reached adangerous hour. "

"The hat-pins first. The hat-pins!"

Rouletabille rose lightly from the bed and, facing her, but watchingsomething besides her, said:

"It is necessary you should know that someone almost immediately isgoing to renew the attempt of the bouquet. "

Matrena sprang to her feet as quickly as though she had been told therewas a bomb in the seat of her chair. She made herself sit down again, however, in obedience to Rouletabile's urgent look commanding absolutequiet. 

"Renew the attempt of the bouquet!" she murmured in a stifled voice. "But there is not a flower in the general's chamber. "

"Be calm, madame. Understand me and answer me: You heard the tick-tackfrom the bouquet while you were in your own chamber?"

"Yes, with the doors open, naturally. "

"You told me the persons who came to say good-night to the general. Atthat time there was no noise of tick-tack?"

"No, no. "

"Do you think that if there had been any tick-tack then you would haveheard it, with all those persons talking in the room?"

"I hear everything. I hear everything. "

"Did you go downstairs at the same time those people did?"

"No, no; I remained near the general for some time, until he was soundasleep. "

"And you heard nothing?"

"Nothing. "

"You closed the doors behind those persons?"

"Yes, the door to the great staircase. The door of the servants'stairway was condemned a long time ago; it has been locked by me, I alone have the key and on the inside of the door opening into thegeneral's chamber there is also a bolt which is always shot. All theother doors of the chambers have been condemned by me. In order to enterany of the four rooms on this floor it is necessary now to pass by thedoor of my chamber, which gives on the main staircase. "

"Perfect. Then, no one has been able to enter the apartment. No onehad been in the apartment for at least two hours excepting you and thegeneral, when you heard the clockwork. From that the only conclusion isthat only the general and you could have started it going. "

"What are you trying to say?" Matrena demanded, astounded. 

"I wish to prove to you by this absurd conclusion, madame, that it isnecessary never--never, you understand? Never--to reason solely uponeven the most evident external evidence when those seemingly-conclusiveappearances are in conflict with certain moral truths that also areclear as the light of day. The light of day for me, madame, is that thegeneral does not desire to commit suicide and, above all, that he wouldnot choose the strange method of suicide by clockwork. The light ofday for me is that you adore your husband and that you are ready tosacrifice your life for his. "

"Now!" exclaimed Matrena, whose tears, always ready in emotional moments, flowed freely. "But, Holy Mary, why do you speak to me without lookingat me? What is it? What is it?"

"Don't turn! Don't make a movement! You hear--not a move! And speak low, very low. And don't cry, for the love of God!"

"But you say at once. .. The bouquet! Come to the general's room!"

"Not a move. And continue listening to me without interrupting, " saidhe, still inclining his ear, and still without looking at her. "Itis because these things were as the light of day to me that I say tomyself, 'It is impossible that it should be impossible for a thirdperson not to have placed the bomb in the bouquet. Someone is able toenter the general's chamber even when the general is watching and allthe doors are locked. '"

"Oh, no. No one could possibly enter. I swear it to you. "

As she swore it a little too loudly, Rouletabille seized her arm so thatshe almost cried out, but she understood instantly that it was to keepher quiet. 

"I tell you not to interrupt me, once for all. "

"But, then, tell me what you are looking at like that. "

"I am watching the corner where someone is going to enter the general'schamber when everything is locked, madame. Do not move!"

Matrena, her teeth chattering, recalled that when she enteredRouletabille's chamber she had found all the doors open thatcommunicated with the chain of rooms: the young man's chamber withhers, the dressing-room and the general's chamber. She tried, underRouletabille's look, to keep calm, but in spite of all the reporter'sexhortations she could not hold her tongue. 

"But which way? Where will they enter?"

"By the door. "

"Which door?"

"That of the chamber giving on the servants' stair-way. "

"Why, how? The key! The bolt!"

"They have made a key. "

"But the bolt is drawn this side. "

"They will draw it back from the other side. "

"What! That is impossible. "

Rouletabille laid his two hands on Matrena's strong shoulders andrepeated, detaching each syllable, "They will draw it back from theother side. "

"It is impossible. I repeat it. "

"Madame, your Nihilists haven't invented anything. It is a trick muchin vogue with sneak thieves in hotels. All it needs is a little hole thesize of a pin bored in the panel of the door above the bolt. "

"God!" quavered Matrena. "I don't understand what you mean by yourlittle hole. Explain to me, little domovoi. "

"Follow me carefully, then, " continued Rouletabille, his eyes all thetime fixed elsewhere. "The person who wishes to enter sticks through thehole a brass wire that he has already given the necessary curve to andwhich is fitted on its end with a light point of steel curved inward. With such an instrument it is child's play, if the hole has been madewhere it ought to be, to touch the bolt on the inside from the outside, pick the knob on it, withdraw it, and open the door if the bolt is likethis one, a small door-bolt. "

"Oh, oh, oh, " moaned Matrena, who paled visibly. "And that hole?"

"It exists. "

"You have discovered it?"

"Yes, the first hour I was here. "

"Oh, domovoi! But how did you do that when you never entered thegeneral's chamber until to-night?"

"Doubtless, but I went up that servants' staircase much earlier thanthat. And I will tell you why. When I was brought into the villa thefirst time, and you watched me, bidden behind the door, do you know whatI was watching myself, while I appeared to be solely occupied diggingout the caviare? The fresh print of boot-nails which left the carpetnear the table, where someone had spilled beer (the beer was stillrunning down the cloth). Someone had stepped in the beer. The boot-printwas not clearly visible excepting there. But from there it went to thedoor of the servants' stairway and mounted the stairs. That boot was toofine to be mounting a stairway reserved to servants and that Kouprianetold me had been condemned, and it was that made me notice it in amoment; but just then you entered. "

"You never told me anything about it. Of course if I had known there wasa boot-print. .. "

"I didn't tell you anything about it because I had my reasons for that, and, anyway, the trace dried while I was telling you about my journey. "

"Ah, why not have told me later?"

"Because I didn't know you yet. "

"Subtle devil! You will kill me. I can no longer. .. Let us go into thegeneral's chamber. We will wake him. "

"Remain here. Remain here. I have not told you anything. That boot-printpreoccupied me, and later, when I could get away from the dining-room, I was not easy until I had climbed that stairway myself and gone to seethat door, where I discovered what I have just told you and what I amgoing to tell you now. "

"What? What? In all you have said there has been nothing about thehat-pins. "

"We have come to them now. "

"And the bouquet attack, which is going to happen again? Why? Why?"

"This is it. When this evening you let me go to the general's chamber, Iexamined the bolt of the door without your suspecting it. My opinion wasconfirmed. It was that way that the bomb was brought, and it is by thatway that someone has prepared to return. "

"But how? You are sure the little hole is the way someone came? But whatmakes you think that is how they mean to return? You know well enoughthat, not having succeeded in the general's chamber, they are at work inthe dining-room. "

"Madame, it is probable, it is certain that they have given up the workin the dining-room since they have commenced this very day working againin the general's chamber. Yes, someone returned, returned that way, andI was so sure of that, of the forthcoming return, that I removed thepolice in order to be able to study everything more at my ease. Do youunderstand now my confidence and why I have been able to assume so heavya responsibility? It is because I knew I had only one thing to watch:one little hat-pin. It is not difficult, madame, to watch a singlelittle hat-pin. "

"A mistake, " said Matrena, in a low voice. "Miserable little domovoi whotold me nothing, me whom you let go to sleep on my mattress, in front ofthat door that might open any moment. "

"No, madame. For I was behind it!"

"Ah, dear little holy angel! But what were you thinking of! That doorhas not been watched this afternoon. In our absence it could have beenopened. If someone has placed a bomb during our absence!"

"That is why I sent you at once in to the dining-room on that searchthat I thought would be fruitless, dear madame. And that is why Ihurried upstairs to the bedroom. I went to the stairway door instantly. I had prepared for proof positive if anyone had pushed it open even halfa millimeter. No, no one had touched the door in our absence. 

"Ah, dear heroic little friend of Jesus! But listen to me. Listen to me, my angel. Ah, I don't know where I am or what I say. My brain is nomore than a flabby balloon punctured with pins, with little holes ofhat-pins. Tell me about the hat-pins. Right off! No, at first, what isit that makes you believe--good God!--that someone will return by thatdoor? How can you see that, all that, in a poor little hat-pin?"

"Madame, it is not a single hat-pin hole; there are two of them. 

"Two hat-pin holes?"

"Yes, two. An old one and a new one. One quite new. Why this secondhole? Because the old one was judged a little too narrow and they wishedto enlarge it, and in enlarging it they broke off the point of a hat-pinin it. Madame, the point is there yet, filling up the little old holeand the piece of metal is very sharp and very bright. "

"Now I understand the examination of the hat-pins. Then it is so easy asthat to get through a door with a hat-pin?"

"Nothing easier, especially if the panel is of pine. Sometimes onehappens to break the point of a pin in the first hole. Then of necessityone makes a second. In order to commence the second hole, the point ofthe pin being broken, they have used the point of a pen-knife, then havefinished the hole with the hat-pin. The second hole is still nearer thebolt than the first one. Don't move like that, madame. "

"But they are going to come! They are going to come!"

"I believe so. "

"But I can't understand how you can remain so quiet with such acertainty. Great heavens! what proof have you that they have not beenthere already?"

"Just an ordinary pin, madame, not a hat-pin this time. Don't confusethe pins. I will show you in a little while. "

"He will drive me distracted with his pins, dear light of my eyes!Bounty of Heaven! God's envoy! Dear little happiness-bearer!"

In her transport she tried to take him in her trembling arms, but hewaved her back. She caught her breath and resumed:

"Did the examination of all the hat-pins tell you anything?"

"Yes. The fifth hat-pin of Mademoiselle Natacha's, the one in the toqueout in the veranda, has the tip newly broken off. "

"O misery!" cried Matrena, crumpling in her chair. 

Rouletabille raised her. 

"What would you have? I have examined your own hat-pins. Do you thinkI would have suspected you if I had found one of them broken? Iwould simply have thought that someone had used your property for anabominable purpose, that is all. "

"Oh, that is true, that is true. Pardon me. Mother of Christ, this boycrazes me! He consoles me and he horrifies me. He makes me think of suchdreadful things, and then he reassures me. He does what he wishes withme. What should I become without him?"

And this time she succeeded in taking his head in her two hands andkissing him passionately. Rouletabille pushed her back roughly. 

"You keep me from seeing, " he said. 

She was in tears over his rebuff. She understood now. Rouletabilleduring all this conversation had not ceased to watch through the opendoors of Matrena's room and the dressing-room the farther fatal doorwhose brass bolt shone in the yellow light of the night-lamp. 

At last he made her a sign and the reporter, followed by Matrena, advanced on tip-toe to the threshold of the general's chamber, keepingclose to the wall. Feodor Feodorovitch slept. They heard his heavybreath, but he appeared to be enjoying peaceful sleep. The horrors ofthe night before had fled. Matrena was perhaps right in attributing thenightmares to the narcotic prepared for him each night, for the glassfrom which he drank it when he felt he could not sleep was still fulland obviously had not been touched. The bed of the general was so placedthat whoever occupied it, even if they were wide awake, could not seethe door giving on the servants' stairway. The little table where theglass and various phials were placed and which had borne the dangerousbouquet, was placed near the bed, a little back of it, and nearer thedoor. Nothing would have been easier than for someone who could openthe door to stretch an arm and place the infernal machine among the wildflowers, above all, as could easily be believed, if he had waitedfor that treachery until the heavy breathing of the general told themoutside that he was fast asleep, and if, looking through the key-hole, he had made sure Matrena was occupied in her own chamber. Rouletabille, at the threshold, glided to one side, out of the line of view from thehole, and got down on all fours. He crawled toward the door. With hishead to the floor he made sure that the little ordinary pin which he hadplaced on guard that evening, stuck in the floor against the door, wasstill erect, having thus additional proof that the door had not beenmoved. In any other case the pin would have lain flat on the floor. Hecrept back, rose to his feet, passed into the dressing-room and, in acorner, had a rapid conversation in a low voice with Matrena. 

"You will go, " said he, "and take your mattress into the corner of thedressing-room where you can still see the door but no one can see youby looking through the key-hole. Do that quite naturally, and then goto your rest. I will pass the night on the mattress, and I beg you tobelieve that I will be more comfortable there than on a bed of staircasewood where I spent the night last night, behind the door. "

"Yes, but you will fall asleep. I don't wish that. "

"What are you thinking, madame?"

"I don't wish it. I don't wish it. I don't wish to quit the door wherethe eye is. And since I'm not able to sleep, let me watch. "

He did not insist, and they crouched together on the mattress. Rouletabille was squatted like a tailor at work; but Matrena remained onall-fours, her jaw out, her eyes fixed, like a bulldog ready to spring. The minutes passed by in profound silence, broken only by the irregularbreathing and puffing of the general. His face stood out pallid andtragic on the pillow; his mouth was open and, at times, the lipsmoved. There was fear at any moment of nightmare or his awakening. Unconsciously he threw an arm over toward the table where the glassof narcotic stood. Then he lay still again and snored lightly. Thenight-lamp on the mantelpiece caught queer yellow reflections from thecorners of the furniture, from the gilded frame of a picture on the walland from the phials and glasses on the table. But in all the chamberMatrena Petrovna saw nothing, thought of nothing but the brass boltwhich shone there on the door. Tired of being on her knees, she shifted, her chin in her hands, her gaze steadily fixed. As time passed andnothing happened she heaved a sigh. She could not have said whether shehoped for or dreaded the coming of that something new which Rouletabillehad indicated. Rouletabille felt her shiver with anguish and impatience. 

As for him, he had not hoped that anything would come to pass untiltoward dawn, the moment, as everyone knows, when deep sleep is most aptto vanquish all watchfulness and all insomnia. And as he waited for thatmoment he had not budged any more than a Chinese ape or the dear littleporcelain domovoi doukh in the garden. Of course it might be that it wasnot to happen this night. 

Suddenly Matrena's hand fell on Rouletabille's. His imprisoned hers sofirmly that she understood she was forbidden to make the least movement. And both, with necks extended, ears erect, watched like beasts, likebeasts on the scent. 

Yes, yes, there had been a slight noise in the lock. A key turned, softly, softly, in the lock, and then--silence; and then another littlenoise, a grinding sound, a slight grating of wire, above, then on thebolt; upon the bolt which shone in the subdued glow of the night-lamp. The bolt softly, very softly, slipped slowly. 

Then the door was pushed slowly, so slowly. It opened. 

Through the opening the shadow of an arm stretched, an arm which heldin its fingers something which shone. Rouletabille felt Matrena ready tobound. He encircled her, he pressed her in his arms, he restrained herin silence, and he had a horrible fear of hearing her suddenly shout, while the arm stretched out, almost touched the pillow on the bed wherethe general continued to sleep a sleep of peace such as he had not knownfor a long time. 

VII. ARSENATE OF SODA

The mysterious hand held a phial and poured the entire contents into thepotion. Then the hand withdrew as it had come, slowly, prudently, slyly, and the key turned in the lock and the bolt slipped back into place. 

Like a wolf, Rouletabille, warning Matrena for a last time not to budge, gained the landing-place, bounded towards the stairs, slid down thebanister right to the veranda, crossed the drawing-room like a flash, and reached the little sitting-room without having jostled a singlepiece of furniture. He noticed nothing, saw nothing. All around wasundisturbed and silent. 

The first light of dawn filtered through the blinds. He was able tomake out that the only closed door was the one to Natacha's chamber. Hestopped before that door, his heart beating, and listened. But no soundcame to his ear. He had glided so lightly over the carpet that he wassure he had not been heard. Perhaps that door would open. He waited. Invain. It seemed to him there was nothing alive in that house except hisheart. He was stifled with the horror that he glimpsed, that he almosttouched, although that door remained closed. He felt along the wallin order to reach the window, and pulled aside the curtain. Window andblinds of the little room giving on the Neva were closed. The bar ofiron inside was in its place. Then he went to the passage, mounted anddescended the narrow servants' stairway, looked all about, in all therooms, feeling everywhere with silent hands, assuring himself that nolock had been tampered with. On his return to the veranda, as he raisedhis head, he saw at the top of the main staircase a figure wan as death, a spectral apparition amid the shadows of the passing night, who leanedtoward him. It was Matrena Petrovna. She came down, silent as a phantomsand he no longer recognized her voice when she demanded of him, "Where?I require that you tell me. Where?"

"I have looked everywhere, " he said, so low that Matrena had to comenearer to understand his whisper. "Everything is shut tight. And thereis no one about. "

Matrena looked at Rouletabille with all the power of her eyes, as thoughshe would discover his inmost thoughts, but his clear glance did notwaver, and she saw there was nothing he wished to hide. Then Matrenapointed her finger at Natacha's chamber. 

"You have not gone in there?" she inquired. 

He replied, "It is not necessary to enter there. "

"I will enter there, myself, nevertheless, " said she, and she set herteeth. 

He barred her way with his arms spread out. 

"If you hold the life of someone dear, " said he, "don't go a stepfarther. "

"But the person is in that chamber. The person is there! It is thereyou will find out!" And she waved him aside with a gesture as though shewere sleepwalking. 

To recall her to the reality of what he had said to her and to make herunderstand what he desired, he had to grip her wrist in the vice of hisnervous hand. 

"The person is not there, perhaps, " he said his head. "Understand menow. "

But she did not understand him. She said:

"Since the person is nowhere else, the person must be there. "

But Rouletabille continued obstinately:

"No, no. Perhaps he is gone. "

"Gone! And everything locked on the inside!"

"That is not a reason, " he replied. 

But she could not follow his thoughts any further. She wished absolutelyto make her way into Natacha's chamber. The obsession of that was uponher. 

"If you enter there, " said he, "and if (as is most probable) you don'tfind what you seek there, all is lost! And as to me, I give up the wholething. "

She sank in a heap onto a chair. 

"Don't despair, " he murmured. "We don't know for sure yet. "

She shook her poor old head dejectedly. 

"We know that only she is here, since no one has been able to enter andsince no one has been able to leave. "

That, in truth, filled her brain, prevented her from discerning in anycorner of her mind the thought of Rouletabille. Then the impossibledialogue resumed. 

"I repeat that we do not know but that the person has gone, " repeatedthe reporter, and demanded her keys. 

"Foolish, " she said. "What do you want them for?"

"To search outside as we have searched inside. "

"Why, everything is locked on the inside!"

"Madame, once more, that is no reason that the person may not beoutside. "

He consumed five minutes opening the door of the veranda, so many werehis precautions. She watched him impatiently. 

He whispered to her:

"I am going out, but don't you lose sight of the little sitting-room. Atthe least movement call me; fire a revolver if you need to. "

He slipped into the garden with the same precautions for silence. Fromthe corner that she kept to, through the doors left open, Matrena couldfollow all the movements of the reporter and watch Natacha's chamberat the same time. The attitude of Rouletabille continued to confuse herbeyond all expression. She watched what he did as if she thought himbesotted. The dyernick on guard out in the roadway also watched theyoung man through the bars of the gate in consternation, as though hethought him a fool. Along the paths of beaten earth or cement whichoffered no chance for footprints Rouletabille hurried silently. Aroundhim he noted that the grass of the lawn had not been trodden. And thenhe paid no more attention to his steps. He seemed to study attentivelythe rosy color in the east, breathing the delicacy of dawning morning inthe Isles, amid the silence of the earth, which still slumbered. 

Bare-headed, face thrown back, hands behind his back, eyes raised andfixed, he made a few steps, then suddenly stopped as if he had beengiven an electric shock. As soon as he seemed to have recovered fromthat shock he turned around and went a few steps back to another path, into which he advanced, straight ahead, his face high, with the samefixed look that he had had up to the time he so suddenly stopped, asif something or someone advised or warned him not to go further. Hecontinually worked back toward the house, and thus he traversed all thepaths that led from the villa, but in all these excursions he took painsnot to place himself in the field of vision from Natacha's window, arestricted field because of its location just around an abutment of thebuilding. To ascertain about this window he crept on all-fours up to thegarden-edge that ran along the foot of the wall and had sufficient proofthat no one had jumped out that way. Then he went to rejoin Matrena inthe veranda. 

"No one has come into the garden this morning, " said he, "and no one hasgone out of the villa into the garden. Now I am going to look outsidethe grounds. Wait here; I'll be back in five minutes. "

He went away, knocked discreetly on the window of the lodge and waitedsome seconds. Ermolai came out and opened the gate for him. Matrenamoved to the threshold of the little sitting-room and watched Natacha'sdoor with horror. She felt her legs give under her, she could not standup under the diabolic thought of such a crime. Ah, that arm, that arm!reaching out, making its way, with a little shining phial in its hand. Pains of Christ! What could there be in the damnable books over whichNatacha and her companions pored that could make such abominable crimespossible? Ah, Natacha, Natacha! it was from her that she would havedesired the answer, straining her almost to stifling on her rough bosomand strangling her with her own strong hand that she might not hear theresponse. Ah, Natacha, Natacha, whom she had loved so much! She sank tothe floor, crept across the carpet to the door, and lay there, stretchedlike a beast, and buried her head in her arms while she wept over herdaughter. Natacha, Natacha, whom she had cherished as her own child, andwho did not hear her. Ah, what use that the little fellow had gone tosearch outside when the whole truth lay behind this door? Thinking ofhim, she was embarrassed lest he should find her in that animalisticposture, and she rose to her knees and worked her way over to the windowthat looked out upon the Neva. The angle of the slanting blinds let hersee well enough what passed outside, and what she saw made herspring to her feet. Below her the reporter was going through the sameincomprehensible maneuvers that she had seen him do in the garden. Threepathways led to the little road that ran along the wall of the villaby the bank of the Neva. The young man, still with his hands behind hisback and with his face up, took them one after the other. In the firsthe stopped at the first step. He didn't take more than two steps in thesecond. In the third, which cut obliquely toward the right and seemed torun to the bank nearest Krestowsky Ostrow, she saw him advance slowly atfirst, then more quickly among the small trees and hedges. Once onlyhe stopped and looked closely at the trunk of a tree against which heseemed to pick out something invisible, and then he continued to thebank. There he sat down on a stone and appeared to reflect, and thensuddenly he cast off his jacket and trousers, picked out a certain placeon the bank across from him, finished undressing and plunged into thestream. She saw at once that he swam like a porpoise, keeping beneathand showing his head from time to time, breathing, then diving below thesurface again. He reached Krestowsky Ostrow in a clump of reeds. Then hedisappeared. Below him, surrounded by trees, could be seen the red tilesof the villa which sheltered Boris and Michael. From that villa aperson could see the window of the sitting-room in General Trebassof'sresidence, but not what might occur along the bank of the riverjust below its walls. An isvotchick drove along the distant route ofKrestowsky, conveying in his carriage a company of young officers andyoung women who had been feasting and who sang as they rode; then deepsilence ensued. Matrena's eyes searched for Rouletabille, but could notfind him. How long was he going to stay hidden like that? She pressedher face against the chill window. What was she waiting for? She waitedperhaps for someone to make a move on this side, for the door near herto open and the traitorous figure of The Other to appear. 

A hand touched her carefully. She turned. 

Rouletabille was there, his face all scarred by red scratches, withoutcollar or neck-tie, having hastily resumed his clothes. He appearedfurious as he surprised her in his disarray. She let him lead her asthough she were a child. He drew her to his room and closed the door. 

"Madame, " he commenced, "it is impossible to work with you. Why in theworld have you wept not two feet from your step-daughter's door? You andyour Koupriane, you commence to make me regret the Faubourg Poissoniere, you know. Your step-daughter has certainly heard you. It is lucky thatshe attaches no importance at all to your nocturnal phantasmagorias, andthat she has been used to them a long time. She has more sense than you, Mademoiselle Natacha has. She sleeps, or at least she pretends to sleep, which leaves everybody in peace. What reply will you give her if ithappens that she asks you the reason to-day for your marching andcounter-marching up and down the sitting-room and complains that youkept her from sleeping?"

Matrena only shook her old, old head. 

"No, no, she has not heard me. I was there like a shadow, like a shadowof myself. She will never hear me. No one hears a shadow. "

Rouletabille felt returning pity for her and spoke more gently. 

"In any case, it is necessary, you must understand, that she shouldattach no more importance to what you have done to-night than to thethings she knows of your doing other nights. It is not the first time, is it, that you have wandered in the sitting-room? You understand me?And to-morrow, madame, embrace her as you always have. "

"No, not that, " she moaned. "Never that. I could not. "

"Why not?"

Matrena did not reply. She wept. He took her in his arms like a childconsoling its mother. 

"Don't cry. Don't cry. All is not lost. Someone did leave the villa thismorning. "

"Oh, little domovoi! How is that? How is that? How did you find thatout?"

"Since we didn't find anything inside, it was certainly necessary tofind something outside. "

"And you have found it?"

"Certainly. "

"The Virgin protect you!"

"SHE is with us. She will not desert us. I will even say that I believeshe has a special guardianship over the Isles. She watches over themfrom evening to morning. "

"What are you saying?"

"Certainly. You don't know what we call in France 'the watchers of theVirgin'?"

"Oh, yes, they are the webs that the dear little beasts of the good Godspin between the trees and that. .. "

"Exactly. You understand me and you will understand further when youknow that in the garden the first thing that struck me across the faceas I went into it was these watchers of the Virgin spun by the dearlittle spiders of the good God. At first when I felt them on my face Isaid to myself, 'Hold on, no one has passed this way, ' and so I went tosearch other places. The webs stopped me everywhere in the garden. But, outside the garden, they kept out of the way and let me pass undisturbeddown a pathway which led to the Neva. So then I said to myself, 'Now, has the Virgin by accident overlooked her work in this pathway? Surelynot. Someone has ruined it. ' I found the shreds of them hanging to thebushes, and so I reached the river. "

"And you threw yourself into the river, my dear angel. You swim like alittle god. "

"And I landed where the other landed. Yes, there were the reeds allfreshly broken. And I slipped in among the bushes. "

"Where to?"

"Up to the Villa Krestowsky, madame--where they both live. "

"Ah, it was from there someone came?"

There was a silence between them. 

She questioned:

"Boris?"

"Someone who came from the villa and who returned there. Boris orMichael, or another. They went and returned through the reeds. But incoming they used a boat; they returned by swimming. "

Her customary agitation reasserted itself. 

She demanded ardently:

"And you are sure that he came here and that he left here?"

"Yes, I am sure of it. "

"How?"

"By the sitting-room window. "

"It is impossible, for we found it locked. "

"It is possible, if someone closed it behind him. "

"Ah!"

She commenced to tremble again, and, falling back into her nightmarishhorror, she no longer wasted fond expletives on her domovoi as on a dearlittle angel who had just rendered a service ten times more precious toher than life. While he listened patiently, she said brutally:

"Why did you keep me from throwing myself on him, from rushing upon himas he opened the door? Ah, I would have, I would have. .. We would know. "

"No. At the least noise he would have closed the door. A turn of the keyand he would have escaped forever. And he would have been warned. "

"Careless boy! Why then, if you knew he was going to come, didn't youleave me in the bedroom and you watch below yourself?"

"Because so long as I was below he would not have come. He only comeswhen there is no one downstairs. "

"Ah, Saints Peter and Paul pity a poor woman. Who do you think it is, then? Who do you think it is? I can't think any more. Tell me, tell methat. You ought to know--you know everything. Come--who? I demand thetruth. Who? Still some agent of the Committee, of the Central Committee?Still the Nihilists?"

"If it was only that!" said Rouletabille quietly. 

"You have sworn to drive me mad! What do you mean by your 'if it wasonly that'?"

Rouletabille, imperturbable, did not reply. 

"What have you done with the potion?" said he. 

"The potion? The glass of the crime! I have locked it in my room, in thecupboard--safe, safe!"

"Ah, but, madame, it is necessary to replace it where you took it from. "

"What!"

"Yes, after having poured the poison into a phial, to wash the glass andfill it with another potion. "

"You are right. You think of everything. If the general wakes and wantshis potion, he must not be suspicious of anything, and he must be ableto have his drink. "

"It is not necessary that he should drink. "

"Well, then, why have the drink there?"

"So that the person can be sure, madame, that if he has not drunk it issimply because he has not wished to. A pure chance, madame, that he isnot poisoned. You understand me this time?"

"Yes, yes. O Christ! But how now, if the general wakes and wishes todrink his narcotic?"

"Tell him I forbid it. And here is another thing you must do. When--Someone--comes into the general's chamber, in the morning, youmust quite openly and naturally throw out the potion, useless and vapid, you see, and so Someone will have no right to be astonished that thegeneral continues to enjoy excellent health. "

"Yes, yes, little one; you are wiser than King Solomon. And what will Ido with the phial of poison?"

"Bring it to me. "

"Right away. "

She went for it and returned five minutes later. 

"He is still asleep. I have put the glass on the table, out of hisreach. He will have to call me. "

"Very good. Then push the door to, close it; we have to talk thingsover. "

"But if someone goes back up the servants' staircase?"

"Be easy about that. They think the general is poisoned already. It isthe first care-free moment I have been able to enjoy in this house. "

"When will you stop making me shake with horror, little demon! You keepyour secret well, I must say. The general is sleeping better than if hereally were poisoned. But what shall we do about Natacha? I dare ask youthat--you and you alone. "

"Nothing at all. "

"How--nothing?"

"We will watch her. .. "

"Ah, yes, yes. "

"Still, Matrena, you let me watch her by myself. "

"Yes, yes, I promise you. I will not pay any attention to her. Thatis promised. That is promised. Do as you please. Why, just now, when Ispoke of the Nihilists to you, did you say, 'If it were only that!'? Youbelieve, then, that she is not a Nihilist? She reads such things--thingslike on the barricades. .. "

"Madame, madame, you think of nothing but Natacha. You have promised menot to watch her; promise me not to think about her. "

"Why, why did you say, 'If it was only that!'?"

"Because, if there were only Nihilists in your affair, dear madame, itwould be too simple, or, rather, it would have been more simple. Canyou possibly believe, madame, that simply a Nihilist, a Nihilist who wasonly a Nihilist, would take pains that his bomb exploded from a vase offlowers?--that it would have mattered where, so long as it overwhelmedthe general? Do you imagine that the bomb would have had less effectbehind the door than in front of it? And the little cavity under thefloor, do you believe that a genuine revolutionary, such as you havehere in Russia, would amuse himself by penetrating to the villa onlyto draw out two nails from a board, when one happens to give himtime between two visits to the dining-room? Do you suppose that arevolutionary who wished to avenge the dead of Moscow and who couldsucceed in getting so far as the door behind which General Trebassofslept would amuse himself by making a little hole with a pin in orderto draw back the bolt and amuse himself by pouring poison into a glass?Why, in such a case, he would have thrown his bomb outright, whether itblew him up along with the villa, or he was arrested on the spot, or hadto submit to the martyrdom of the dungeons in the Fortress of SS. Peterand Paul, or be hung at Schlusselburg. Isn't that what always happens?That is the way he would have done, and not have acted like a hotel-rat!Now, there is someone in your home (or who comes to your home) who actslike a hotel-rat because he does not wish to be seen, because he doesnot wish to be discovered, because he does not wish to be taken in theact. Now, the moment that he fears nothing so much as to be taken inthe act, so that he plays all these tricks of legerdemain, it is certainthat his object lies beyond the act itself, beyond the bomb, beyondthe poison. Why all this necessity for bombs of deferred explosion, forclockwork placed where it will be confused with other things, and not ona bare staircase forbidden to everybody, though you visit it twenty timesa day?"

"But this man comes in as he pleases by day and by night? You don'tanswer. You know who he is, perhaps?"

"I know him, perhaps, but I am not sure who it is yet. "

"You are not curious, little domovoi doukh! A friend of the house, certainly, and who enters the house as he wishes, by night, becausesomeone opens the window for him. And who comes from the KrestowskyVilla! Boris or Michael! Ah, poor miserable Matrena! Why don't theykill poor Matrena? Their general! Their general! And they aresoldiers--soldiers who come at night to kill their general. Aided by--bywhom? Do you believe that? You? Light of my eyes! you believe that! No, no, that is not possible! I want you to understand, monsieur le domovoi, that I am not able to believe anything so horrible. No, no, by JesusChrist Who died on the Cross, and Who searches our hearts, I do notbelieve that Boris--who, however, has very advanced ideas, I admit--itis necessary not to forget that; very advanced; and who composes veryadvanced verses also, as I have always told him--I will not believe thatBoris is capable of such a fearful crime. As to Michael, he is an honestman, and my daughter, my Natacha, is an honest girl. Everything looksvery bad, truly, but I do not suspect either Michael or Boris or my pureand beloved Natacha (even though she has made a translation into Frenchof very advanced verses, certainly most improper for the daughter of ageneral). That is what lies at the bottom of my mind, the bottom of myheart--you have understood me perfectly, little angel of paradise? Ah, it is you the general owes his life to, that Matrena owes her life. Without you this house would already be a coffin. How shall I everreward you? You wish for nothing! I annoy you! You don't even listen tome! A coffin--we would all be in our coffins! Tell me what you desire. All that I have belongs to you!"

"I desire to smoke a pipe. 

"Ah, a pipe! Do you want some yellow perfumed tobacco that I receiveevery month from Constantinople, a treat right from the harem? I willget enough for you, if you like it, to smoke ten thousand pipes full. "

"I prefer caporal, " replied Rouletabille. "But you are right. It is notwise to suspect anybody. See, watch, wait. There is always time, oncethe game is caught, to say whether it is a hare or a wild boar. Listento me, then, my good mamma. We must know first what is in the phial. Where is it?"

"Here it is. "

She drew it from her sleeve. He stowed it in his pocket. 

"You wish the general a good appetite, for me. I am going out. I will beback in two hours at the latest. And, above all, don't let the generalknow anything. I am going to see one of my friends who lives inthe Aptiekarski pereolek. "*

 * The little street of the apothecaries. 

"Depend on me, and get back quickly for love of me. My blood clogs in myheart when you are not here, dear servant of God. "

She mounted to the general's room and came down at least ten times tosee if Rouletabille had not returned. Two hours later he was around thevilla, as he had promised. She could not keep herself from running tomeet him, for which she was scolded. 

"Be calm. Be calm. Do you know what was in the phial?"

"No. "

"Arsenate of soda, enough to kill ten people. "

"Holy Mary!"

"Be quiet. Go upstairs to the general. "

Feodor Feodorovitch was in charming humor. It was his first good nightsince the death of the youth of Moscow. He attributed it to his nothaving touched the narcotic and resolved, once more, to give up thenarcotic, a resolve Rouletabille and Matrena encouraged. During theconversation there was a knock at the door of Matrena's chamber. She ranto see who was there, and returned with Natacha, who wished to embraceher father. Her face showed traces of fatigue. Certainly she had notpassed as good a night as her father, and the general reproached her forlooking so downcast. 

"It is true. I had dreadful dreams. But you, papa, did you sleep well?Did you take your narcotic?"

"No, no, I have not touched a drop of my potion. "

"Yes, I see. Oh, well, that is all right; that is very good. Naturalsleep must be coming back. .. "

Matrena, as though hypnotized by Rouletabille, had taken the glass fromthe table and ostentatiously carried it to the dressing-room to throw itout, and she delayed there to recover her self-possession. 

Natacha continued:

"You will see, papa, that you will be able to live just like everyoneelse finally. The great thing was to clear away the police, theatrocious police; wasn't it, Monsieur Rouletabille?"

"I have always said, for myself, that I am entirely of MademoiselleNatacha's mind. You can be entirely reassured now, and I shall leaveyou feeling reassured. Yes, I must think of getting my interviews donequickly, and departing. Ah well, I can only say what I think. Run thingsyourselves and you will not run any danger. Besides, the general getsmuch better, and soon I shall see you all in France, I hope. I mustthank you now for your friendly hospitality. "

"Ah, but you are not going? You are not going!" Matrena had already setherself to protest with all the strenuous torrent of words in herpoor desolated heart, when a glance from the reporter cut short herdespairing utterances. 

"I shall have to remain a week still in the city. I have engaged achamber at the Hotel de France. It is necessary. I have so many peopleto see and to receive. I will come to make you a little visit from timeto time. "

"You are then quite easy, " demanded the general gravely, "at leaving meall alone?"

"Entirely easy. And, besides, I don't leave you all alone. I leave youwith Madame Trebassof and Mademoiselle. I repeat: All three of you stayas I see you now. No more police, or, in any case, the fewest possible. "

"He is right, he is right, " repeated Natacha again. 

At this moment there were fresh knocks at the door of Matrena's chamber. It was Ermolai, who announced that his Excellency the Marshal of theCourt, Count Keltzof, wished to see the general, acting for His Majesty. 

"Go and receive the Count, Natacha, and tell him that your father willbe downstairs in a moment. "

Natacha and Rouletabille went down and found the Count in thedrawing-room. He was a magnificent specimen, handsome and big as oneof the Swiss papal guard. He seemed watchful in all directions and allamong the furniture, and was quite evidently disquieted. He advancedimmediately to meet the young lady, inquiring the news. 

"It is all good news, " replied Natacha. "Everybody here is splendid. Thegeneral is quite gay. But what news have you, monsieur le marechal? Youappear preoccupied. "

The marshal had pressed Rouletabille's hand. 

"And my grapes?" he demanded of Natacha. 

"How, your grapes? What grapes?"

"If you have not touched them, so much the better. I arrived here veryanxious. I brought you yesterday, from Krasnoie-Coelo, some of theEmperor's grapes that Feodor Feodorovitch enjoyed so much. Nowthis morning I learned that the eldest son of Doucet, the Frenchhead-gardener of the Imperial conservatories at Krasnoie, had died fromeating those grapes, which he had taken from those gathered for me tobring here. Imagine my dismay. I knew, however, that at the general'stable, grapes would not be eaten without having been washed, but Ireproached myself for not having taken the precaution of leaving wordthat Doucet recommend that they be washed thoroughly. Still, I don'tsuppose it would matter. I couldn't see how my gift could be dangerous, but when I learned of little Doucet's death this morning, I jumped intothe first train and came straight here. "

"But, your Excellency, " interrupted Natacha, "we have not seen yourgrapes. "

"Ah, they have not been served yet? All the better. Thank goodness!"

"The Emperor's grapes are diseased, then?" interrogated Rouletabille. "Phylloxera pest has got into the conservatories?"

"Nothing can stop it, Doucet told me. So he didn't want me to leave lastevening until he had washed the grapes. Unfortunately, I was pressedfor time and I took them as they were, without any idea that the mixturethey spray on the grapes to protect them was so deadly. It appears thatin the vineyard country they have such accidents every year. They callit, I think, the. .. The mixture. .. "

"The Bordeaux mixture, " was heard in Rouletabille's trembling voice "Anddo you know what it is, Your Excellency, this Bordeaux mixture?"

"Why, no. "

At this moment the general came down the stairs, clinging to thebanister and supported by Matrena Petrovna. 

"Well, " continued Rouletabille, watching Natacha, "the Bordeaux mixturewhich covered the grapes you brought the general yesterday was nothingmore nor less than arsenate of soda. "

"Ah, God!" cried Natacha. 

As for Matrena Petrovna, she uttered a low exclamation and let go thegeneral, who almost fell down the staircase. Everybody rushed. Thegeneral laughed. Matrena, under the stringent look of Rouletabille, stammered that she had suddenly felt faint. At last they were alltogether in the veranda. The general settled back on his sofa andinquired:

"Well, now, were you just saying something, my dear marshal, about somegrapes you have brought me?"

"Yes, indeed, " said Natacha, quite frightened, "and what he said isn'tpleasant at all. The son of Doucet, the court gardener, has just beenpoisoned by the same grapes that monsieur le marschal, it appears, brought you. "

"Where was this? Grapes? What grapes? I haven't seen any grapes!"exclaimed Matrena. "I noticed you, yesterday, marshal, out in thegarden, but you went away almost immediately, and I certainly wassurprised that you did not come in. What is this story?"

"Well, we must clear this matter up. It is absolutely necessary that weknow what happened to those grapes. "

"Certainly, " said Rouletabille, "they could cause a catastrophe. "

"If it has not happened already, " fretted the marshal. 

"But how? Where are they? Whom did you give them to?"

"I carried them in a white cardboard box, the first one that came tohand in Doucet's place. I came here the first time and didn't find you. I returned again with the box, and the general was just lying down. I was pressed for my train and Michael Nikolaievitch and BorisAlexandrovitch were in the garden, so I asked them to execute mycommission, and I laid the box down near them on the little gardentable, telling them not to forget to tell you it was necessary to washthe grapes as Doucet expressly recommended. "

"But it is unbelievable! It is terrible!" quavered Matrena. "Where canthe grapes be? We must know. "

"Absolutely, " approved Rouletabille. 

"We must ask Boris and Michael, " said Natacha. "Good God! surely theyhave not eaten them! Perhaps they are sick. "

"Here they are, " said the general. All turned. Michael and Boris werecoming up the steps. Rouletabille, who was in a shadowed corner underthe main staircase, did not lose a single play of muscle on the twofaces which for him were two problems to solve. Both faces were smiling;too smiling, perhaps. 

"Michael! Boris! Come here, " cried Feodor Feodorovitch. "What have youdone with the grapes from monsieur le marechal?"

They both looked at him upon this brusque interrogation, seemed not tounderstand, and then, suddenly recalling, they declared very naturallythat they had left them on the garden table and had not thought aboutthem. 

"You forgot my caution, then?" said Count Kaltzof severely. 

"What caution?" said Boris. "Oh, yes, the washing of the grapes. Doucet's caution. "

"Do you know what has happened to Doucet with those grapes? His eldestson is dead, poisoned. Do you understand now why we are anxious to knowwhat has become of my grapes?"

"But they ought to be out there on the table, " said Michael. 

"No one can find them anywhere, " declared Matrena, who, no less thanRouletabille, watched every change in the countenances of the twoofficers. "How did it happen that you went away yesterday eveningwithout saying good-bye, without seeing us, without troubling yourselveswhether or not the general might need you?"

"Madame, " said Michael, coldly, in military fashion, as though hereplied to his superior officer himself, "we have ample excuse to offeryou and the general. It is necessary that we make an admission, and thegeneral will pardon us, I am sure. Boris and I, daring the promenade, happened to quarrel. That quarrel was in full swing when we reached hereand we were discussing the way to end it most promptly when monsieurle marechal entered the garden. We must make that our excuse for givingdivided attention to what he had to say. As soon as he was gone we hadonly one thought, to get away from here to settle our difference witharms in our hands. "

"Without speaking to me about it!" interrupted Trehassof. "I never willpardon that. "

"You fight at such a time, when the general is threatened! It is asthough you fought between yourselves in the face of the enemy. It istreason!" added Matrena. 

"Madame, " said Boris, "we did not fight. Someone pointed out our fault, and I offered my excuses to Michael Nikolaievitch, who generouslyaccepted them. Is that not so, Michael Nikolaievitch?"

"And who is this that pointed out your fault?" demanded the marshal. 

"Natacha. "

"Bravo, Natacha. Come, embrace me, my daughter. "

The general pressed his daughter effusively to his broad chest. 

"And I hope you will not have further disputing, " he cried, looking overNatacha's shoulder. 

"We promise you that, General, " declared Boris. "Our lives belong toyou. "

"You did well, my love. Let us all do as well. I have passed anexcellent night, messieurs. Real sleep! I have had just one long sleep. "

"That is so, " said Matrena slowly. "The general had no need of narcotic. He slept like a child and did not touch his potion. "

"And my leg is almost well. "

"All the same, it is singular that those grapes should havedisappeared, " insisted the marshal, following his fixed idea. 

"Ermolai, " called Matrena. 

The old servant appeared. 

"Yesterday evening, after these gentlemen had left the house, did younotice a small white box on the garden table?"

"No, Barinia. "

"And the servants? Have any of them been sick? The dvornicks? Theschwitzar? In the kitchens? No one sick? No? Go and see; then come andtell me. "

He returned, saying, "No one sick. "

Like the marshal, Matrena Petrovna and Feodor Feodorovitch looked at oneanother, repeating in French, "No one sick! That is strange!"

Rouletabille came forward and gave the only explanation that wasplausible--for the others. 

"But, General, that is not strange at all. The grapes have been stolenand eaten by some domestic, and if the servant has not been sick it issimply that the grapes monsieur le marechal brought escaped the sprayingof the Bordeaux mixture. That is the whole mystery. "

"The little fellow must be right, " cried the delighted marshal. 

"He is always right, this little fellow, " beamed Matrena, as proudly asthough she had brought him into the world. 

But "the little fellow, " taking advantage of the greetings as AthanaseGeorgevitch and Ivan Petrovitch arrived, left the villa, gripping in hispocket the phial which held what is required to make grapes flourishor to kill a general who is in excellent health. When he had gone a fewhundred steps toward the bridges one must cross to go into the city, hewas overtaken by a panting dvornick, who brought him a letter that hadjust come by courier. The writing on the envelope was entirely unknownto him. He tore it open and read, in excellent French:

"Request to M. Joseph Rouletabille not to mix in matters that do notconcern him. The second warning will be the last. " It was signed: "TheCentral Revolutionary Committee. "

"So, ho!" said Rouletabille, slipping the paper into his pocket, "that'sthe line it takes, is it! Happily I have nothing more to occupy myselfwith at all. It is Koupriane's turn now! Now to go to Koupriane's!"

On this date, Rouletabille's note-book: "Natacha to her father: 'Butyou, papa, have you had a good night? Did you take your narcotic?'

"Fearful, and (lest I confuse heaven and hell) I have no right totake any further notes. "*

 * As a matter of fact, after this day no more notes are found in Rouletabille's memorandum-book. The last one is that above, bizarre and romantic, and necessary, as Sainclair, the Paris advocate and friend of Rouletabille, indicates opposite it in the papers from which we have taken all the details of this story. 

VIII. THE LITTLE CHAPEL OF THE GUARDS

Rouletabille took a long walk which led him to the Troitsky Bridge, then, re-descending the Naberjnaia, he reached the Winter Palace. He seemed to have chased away all preoccupation, and took a child'spleasure in the different aspects of the life that characterizes thecity of the Great Peter. He stopped before the Winter Palace, walkedslowly across the square where the prodigious monolith of the AlexanderColumn rises from its bronze socket, strolled between the palace and thecolonnades, passed under an immense arch: everything seemed Cyclopean tohim, and he never had felt so tiny, so insignificant. None the less hewas happy in his insignificance, he was satisfied with himself in thepresence of these colossal things; everything pleased him this morning. The speed of the isvos, the bickering humor of the osvotchicks, theelegance of the women, the fine presences of the officers and their easynaturalness under their uniforms, so opposed to the wooden posturing ofthe Berlin military men whom he had noticed at the "Tilleuls" and inthe Friederichstrasse between two trains. Everything enchanted him--thecostume even of the moujiks, vivid blouses, the red shirts overthe trousers, the full legs and the boots up to the knees, even theunfortunates who, in spite of the soft atmosphere, were muffled up insheepskin coats, all impressed him favorably, everything appeared to himoriginal and congenial. 

Order reigned in the city. The guards were polite, decorative andsuperb in bearing. The passers-by in that quarter talked gayly amongthemselves, often in French, and had manners as civilized as anywherein the world. Where, then, was the Bear of the North? He never had seenbears so well licked. Was it this very city that only yesterday was inrevolution? This was certainly the Alexander Park where troops a fewweeks before had fired on children who had sought refuge in the trees, like sparrows. Was this the very pavement where the Cossacks had leftso many bodies? Finally he saw before him the Nevsky Prospect, wherethe bullets rained like hail not long since upon a people dressed forfestivities and very joyous. Nichevo! Nichevo! All that was sosoon forgotten. They forgot yesterday as they forget to-morrow. TheNihilists? Poets, who imagined that a bomb could accomplish anythingin that Babylon of the North more important than the noise of itsexplosion! Look at these people who pass. They have no more thoughtfor the old attack than for those now preparing in the shadow of the"tracktirs. " Happy men, full of serenity in this bright quarter, whomove about their affairs and their pleasures in the purest air, thelightest, the most transparent on earth. No, no; no one knows the joy ofmere breathing if he has not breathed the air there, the finest inthe north of the world, which gives food and drink of beautiful whiteeau-de-vie and yellow pivo, and strikes the blood and makes one a beastvigorous and joyful and fatalistic, and mocks at the Nihilists and, as well, at the ten thousand eyes of the police staring from under theporches of houses, from under the skulls of dvornicks--all police, thedvornicks; all police, also the joyous concierges with extended hands. Ah, ah, one mocks at it all in such air, provided one has roublesin one's pockets, plenty of roubles, and that one is not besotted byreading those extraordinary books that preach the happiness of allhumanity to students and to poor girl-students too. Ah, ah, seed of theNihilists, all that! These poor little fellows and poor little girls whohave their heads turned by lectures that they cannot digest! That isall the trouble, the digestion. The digestion is needed. Messieurs thecommercial travelers for champagne, who talk together importantly inthe lobbies of the Grand Morskaia Hotel and who have studied the Russianpeople even in the most distant cities where champagne is sold, willtell you that over any table of hors-d'oeuvres, and will regulate thewhole question of the Revolution between two little glasses of vodka, swallowed properly, quickly, elbow up, at a single draught, in theRussian manner. Simply an affair of digestion, they tell you. Who is thefool that would dare compare a young gentleman who has well digesteda bottle of champagne or two, and another young man who has poorlydigested the lucubrations of, who shall we say?--the lucubrations of theeconomists? The economists? The economists! Fools who compete whichcan make the most violent statements! Those who read them and don'tunderstand them go off like a bomb! Your health! Nichevo! The world goesround still, doesn't it?

Discussion political, economic, revolutionary, and other in the roomwhere they munch hors-d'oeuvres! You will hear it all as you passthrough the hotel to your chamber, young Rouletabille. Get quicklynow to the home of Koupriane, if you don't wish to arrive there atluncheon-time; then you would have to put off these serious affairsuntil evening. 

The Department of Police. Massive entrance, heavily guarded, a greatlobby, halls with swinging doors, many obsequious schwitzars on thelookout for tips, many poor creatures sitting against the walls on dirtybenches, desks and clerks, brilliant boots and epaulets of gay youngofficers who are telling tales of the Aquarium with great relish. 

"Monsieur Rouletabille! Ah, yes. Please be seated. Delighted, M. Koupriane will be very happy to receive you, but just at this moment heis at inspection. Yes, the inspection of the police dormitories inthe barracks. We will take you there. His own idea! He doesn't neglectanything, does he? A great Chief. Have you seen the police-guards'dormitory? Admirable! The first dormitories of the world. We say thatwithout wishing to offend France. We love France. A great nation! I willtake you immediately to M. Koupriane. I shall be delighted. "

"I also, " said Rouletabille, who put a rouble into the honorablefunctionary's hand. 

"Permit me to precede you. "

Bows and salutes. For two roubles he would have walked obsequiouslybefore him to the end of the world. 

"These functionaries are admirable, " thought Rouletabille as he was ledto the barracks. He felt he had not paid too much for the services of apersonage whose uniform was completely covered with lace. They tramped, they climbed, they descended. Stairways, corridors. Ah, the barracks atlast. He seemed to have entered a convent. Beds very white, very narrow, and images of the Virgin and saints everywhere, monastic neatness andthe most absolute silence. Suddenly an order sounded in the corridoroutside, and the police-guard, who sprang from no one could tell where, stood to attention at the head of their beds. Koupriane and his aideappeared. Koupriane looked at everything closely, spoke to each man inturn, called them by their names, inquired about their needs, andthe men stammered replies, not knowing what to answer, reddening likechildren. Koupriane observed Rouletabille. He dismissed his aide witha gesture. The inspection was over. He drew the young man into a littleroom just off the dormitory. Rouletabille, frightened, looked about him. He found himself in a chapel. This little chapel completed the effect ofthe guards' dormitory. It was all gilded, decorated in marvelous colors, thronged with little ikons that bring happiness, and, naturally, withthe portrait of the Tsar, the dear Little Father. 

"You see, " said Koupriane, smiling at Rouletabille's amazement, "we denythem nothing. We give them their saints right here in their quarters. "Closing the door, he drew a chair toward Rouletabille and motioned himto sit down. They sat before the little altar loaded with flowers, withcolored paper and winged saints. 

"We can talk here without being disturbed, " he said. "Yonder there issuch a crowd of people waiting for me. I'm ready to listen. "

"Monsieur, " said Rouletabille, "I have come to give you the report of mymission here, and to terminate my connection with it. All that is leftfor clearing this obscure affair is to arrest the guilty person, withwhich I have nothing to do. That concerns you. I simply inform you thatsomeone tried to poison the general last night by pouring arsenate ofsoda into his sleeping-potion, which I bring you in this phial, arsenatewhich was secured most probably by washing it from grapes brought toGeneral Trebassof by the marshal of the court, and which disappearedwithout anyone being able to say how. "

"Ah, ah, a family affair, a plot within the family. I told you so, "murmured Koupriane. 

"The affair at least has happened within the family, as you think, although the assassin came from outside. Contrary to what you may beable to believe, he does not live in the house. "

"Then how does he get there?" demanded Koupriane. 

"By the window of the room overlooking the Neva. He has often come thatway. And that is the way he returns also, I am sure. It is there you cantake him if you act with prudence. "

"How do you know he often comes that way?"

"You know the height of the window above the little roadway. To reach ithe uses a water-trough, whose iron rings are bent, and also the marks ofa grappling-iron that he carries with him and uses to hoist himself tothe window are distinctly visible on the ironwork of the little balconyoutside. The marks are quite obviously of different dates. "

"But that window is closed. "

"Someone opens it for him. "

"Who, if you please?"

"I have no desire to know. "

"Eh, yes. It necessarily is Natacha. I was sure that the Villa des Ileshad its viper. I tell you she doesn't dare leave her nest because sheknows she is watched. Not one of her movements outside escapes us! Sheknows it. She has been warned. The last time she ventured outside alonewas to go into the old quarters of Derewnia. What has she to do in sucha rotten quarter? I ask you that. And she turned in her tracks withoutseeing anyone, without knocking at a single door, because she saw thatshe was followed. She isn't able to get to see them outside, thereforeshe has to see them inside. "

"They are only one, and always the same one. "

"Are you sure?"

"An examination of the marks on the wall and on the pipe doesn't leaveany doubt of it, and it is always the same grappling-iron that is usedfor the window. "

"The viper!"

"Monsieur Koupriane, Mademoiselle Natacha seems to preoccupy youexceedingly. I did not come here to talk about Mademoiselle Natacha. Icame to point out to you the route used by the man who comes to do themurder. "

"Eh, yes, it is she who opens the way. "

"I can't deny that. "

"The little demon! Why does she take him into her room at night? Do youthink perhaps there is some love-affair. .. ?"

"I am sure of quite the opposite. "

"I too. Natacha is not a wanton. Natacha has no heart. She has only abrain. And it doesn't take long for a brain touched by Nihilism to getso it won't hesitate at anything. "

Koupriane reflected a minute, while Rouletabille watched him in silence. 

"Have we solely to do with Nihilism?" resumed Koupriane. "Everything youtell me inclines me more and more to my idea: a family affair, purely inthe family. You know, don't you, that upon the general's death Natachawill be immensely rich?"

"Yes, I know it, " replied Rouletabille, in a voice that sounded singularto the ear of the Chief of Police and which made him raise his head. 

"What do you know?"

"I? Nothing, " replied the reporter, this time in a firmer tone. "Iought, however, to say this to you: I am sure that we are dealing withNihilism. .. "

"What makes you believe it?"

"This. "

And Rouletabille handed Koupriane the message he had received that samemorning. 

"Oh, oh, " cried Koupriane. "You are under watch! Look out. "

"I have nothing to fear; I'm not bothering myself about anythingfurther. Yes, we have an affair of the revolutionaries, but not of theusual kind. The way they are going about it isn't like one of theiryoung men that the Central Committee arms with a bomb and who issacrificed in advance. "

"Where are the tracks that you have traced?"

"Right up to the little Krestowsky Villa. "

Koupriane bounded from his chair. 

"Occupied by Boris. Parbleu! Now we have them. I see it all now. Boris, another cracked brain! And he is engaged. If he plays the part of theRevolutionaries, the affair would work out big for him. "

"That villa, " said Rouletabille quietly, "is also occupied by MichaelKorosakoff. "

"He is the most loyal, the most reliable soldier of the Tsar. "

"No one is ever sure of anything, my dear Monsieur Koupriane. "

"Oh, I am sure of a man like that. "

"No man is ever sure of any man, my dear Monsieur Koupriane. "

"I am, in every case, for those I employ. "

"You are wrong. "

"What do you say?"

"Something that can serve you in the enterprise you are going toundertake, because I trust you can catch the murderer right in his nest. To do that, I'll not conceal from you that I think your agents will haveto be enormously clever. They will have to watch the datcha des Iles atnight, without anyone possibly suspecting it. No more maroon coats withfalse astrakhan trimmings, eh? But Apaches, Apaches on the wartrail, whoblend themselves with the ground, with the trees, with the stones in theroadway. But among those Apaches don't send that agent of your SecretService who watched the window while the assassin climbed to it. "

"What?"

"Why, these climbs that you can read the proofs of on the wall and onthe iron forgings of the balcony went on while your agents, night andday, were watching the villa. Have you noticed, monsieur, that it wasalways the same agent who took the post at night, behind the villa, under the window? General Trebassof's book in which he kept a statementof the exact disposal of each of your men during the period of siege wasmost instructive on that point. The other posts changed in turn, but thesame agent, when he was among the guard, demanded always that same post, which was not disputed by anybody, since it is no fun to pass the hoursof the night behind a wall, in an empty field. The others much preferredto roll away the time watching in the villa or in front of the lodge, where vodka and Crimean wine, kwass and pivo, kirsch and tchi, never ranshort. That agent's name is Touman. "

"Touman! Impossible! He is one of the best agents from Kiew. He wasrecommended by Gounsovski. "

Rouletabille chuckled. 

"Yes, yes, yes, " grumbled the Chief of Police. "Someone always laughswhen his name is mentioned. "

Koupriane had turned red. He rose, opened the door, gave a longdirection in Russian, and returned to his chair. 

"Now, " said he, "go ahead and tell me all the details of the poison andthe grapes the marshal of the court brought. I'm listening. "

Rouletabille told him very briefly and without drawing any deductionsall that we already know. He ended his account as a man dressed in amaroon coat with false astrakhan was introduced. It was the same manRouletabille had met in General Trebassof's drawing-room and whospoke French. Two gendarmes were behind him. The door had been closed. Koupriane turned toward the man in the coat. 

"Touman, " he said, "I want to talk to you. You are a traitor, and I haveproof. You can confess to me, and I will give you a thousand roubles andyou can take yourself off to be hanged somewhere else. "

The man's eyes shrank, but he recovered himself quickly. He replied inRussian. 

"Speak French. I order it, " commanded Koupriane. 

"I answer, Your Excellency, " said Touman firmly, "that I don't know whatYour Excellency means. "

"I mean that you have helped a man get into the Trebassof villa by nightwhen you were on guard under the window of the little sitting-room. You see that there is no use deceiving us any longer. I play with youfrankly, good play, good money. The name of that man, and you have athousand roubles. "

"I am ready to swear on the ikon of. .. "

"Don't perjure yourself. "

"I have always loyally served. .. "

"The name of that man. "

"I still don't know yet what Your Excellency means. "

"Oh, you understand me, " replied Koupriane, who visibly held in an angerthat threatened to break forth any moment. "A man got into the housewhile you were watching. .. "

"I never saw anything. After all, it is possible. There were some verydark nights. I went back and forth. "

"You are not a fool. The name of that man. "

"I assure you, Excellency. .. "

"Strip him. "

"What are you going to do?" cried Rouletabille. 

But already the two guards had thrown themselves on Touman and had drawnoff his coat and shirt. The man was bare to the waist. 

"What are you going to do? What are you going to do?"

"Leave them alone, " said Koupriane, roughly pushing Rouletabille back. 

Seizing a whip which hung at the waist of the guards he struck Touman ablow across the shoulders that drew blood. Touman, mad with the outrageand the pain, shouted, "Yes, it is true! I brag of it!"

Koupriane did not restrain his rage. He showered the unhappy man withblows, having thrown Rouletabille to the end of the room when he triedto interfere. And while he proceeded with the punishment the Chief ofPolice hurled at the agent who had betrayed him an accompaniment offearful threats, promising him that before he was hanged he should rotin the bottom-most dungeon of Peter and Paul, in the slimy pits lyingunder the Neva. Touman, between the two guards who held him, and whosometimes received blows on the rebound that were not intended for them, never uttered a complaint. Outside the invectives of Koupriane therewas heard only the swish of the cords and the cries of Rouletabille, who continued to protest that it was abominable, and called the Chiefof Police a savage. Finally the savage stopped. Gouts of blood hadspattered all about. 

"Monsieur, " said Rouletabille, who supported himself against the wall. "I shall complain to the Tsar. "

"You are right, " Koupriane replied, "but I feel relieved now. You can'timagine the harm this man can have done to us in the weeks he has beenhere. "

Touman, across whose shoulders they had thrown his coat and who lay nowacross a chair, found strength to look up and say:

"It is true. You can't do me as much harm as I have done you, whetheryou think so or not. All the harm that can be done me by you and yoursis already accomplished. My name is not Touman, but Matiev. Listen. Ihad a son that was the light of my eyes. Neither my son nor I had everbeen concerned with politics. I was employed in Moscow. My son was astudent. During the Red Week we went out, my son and I, to see a littleof what was happening over in the Presnia quarter. They said everybodyhad been killed over there! We passed before the Presnia gate. Soldierscalled to us to stop because they wished to search us. We opened ourcoats. The soldiers saw my son's student waistcoat and set up a cry. They unbuttoned the vest, drew a note-book out of his pocket and theyfound a workman's song in it that had been published in the Signal. The soldiers didn't know how to read. They believed the paper was aproclamation, and they arrested my son. I demanded to be arrested withhim. They pushed me away. I ran to the governor's house. Trebassofhad me thrust away from his door with blows from the butt-ends of hisCossacks' guns. And, as I persisted, they kept me locked up all thatnight and the morning of the next day. At noon I was set free. Idemanded my son and they replied they didn't know what I was talkingabout. But a soldier that I recognized as having arrested my son theevening before pointed out a van that was passing, covered with atarpaulin and surrounded by Cossacks. 'Your son is there, ' he said;'they are taking him to the graves. ' Mad with despair, I ran after thevan. It went to the outskirts of Golountrine cemetery. There I sawin the white snow a huge grave, wide, deep. I shall see it to my lastminute. Two vans had already stopped near the hole. Each van heldthirteen corpses. The vans were dumped into the trench and the soldierscommenced to sort the bodies into rows of six. I watched for my son. At last I recognized him in a body that half hung over the edge of thetrench. Horrors of suffering were stamped in the expression of his face. I threw myself beside him. I said that I was his father. They let meembrace him a last time and count his wounds. He had fourteen. Someonehad stolen the gold chain that had hung about his neck and held thepicture of his mother, who died the year before. I whispered into hisear, I swore to avenge him. Forty-eight hours later I had placed myselfat the disposition of the Revolutionary Committee. A week had not passedbefore Touman, whom, it seems, I resemble and who was one of the SecretService agents in Kiew, was assassinated in the train that was takinghim to St. Petersburg. The assassination was kept a secret. I receivedall his papers and I took his place with you. I was doomed beforehandand I asked nothing better, so long as I might last until after theexecution of Trebassof. Ah, how I longed to kill him with my own hands!But another had already been assigned the duty and my role was to helphim. And do you suppose I am going to tell you the name of that other?Never! And if you discover that other, as you have discovered me, another will come, and another, and another, until Trebassof has paidfor his crimes. That is all I have to say to you, Koupriane. As for you, my little fellow, " added he, turning to Rouletabille, "I wouldn'tgive much for your bones. Neither of you will last long. That is myconsolation. "

Koupriane had not interrupted the man. He looked at him in silence, sadly. 

"You know, my poor man, you will be hanged now?" he said. 

"No, " growled Rouletabille. "Monsieur Koupriane, I'll bet you my pursethat he will not be hanged. "

"And why not?" demanded the Chief of rolice, while, upon a sign fromhim, they took away the false Touman. 

"Because it is I who denounced him. "

"What a reason! And what would you like me to do?"

"Guard him for me; for me alone, do you understand?"

"In exchange for what?"

"In exchange for the life of General Trebassof, if I must put it thatway. "

"Eh? The life of General Trebassof! You speak as if it belonged to you, as if you could dispose of it. "

Rouletabille laid his hand on Koupriane's arm. 

"Perhaps that's so, " said he. 

"Would you like me to tell you one thing, Monsieur Rouletabille? It isthat General Trebassof's life, after what has just escaped the lips ofthis Touman, who is not Touman, isn't worth any more than--than yours ifyou remain here. Since you are disposed not to do anything more in thisaffair, take the train, monsieur, take the train, and go. "

Rouletabille walked back and forth, very much worked up; then suddenlyhe stopped short. 

"Impossible, " he said. "It is impossible. I cannot; I am not able to goyet. "

"Why?"

"Good God, Monsieur Koupriane, because I have to interview the Presidentof the Duma yet, and complete my little inquiry into the politics of thecadets. "

"Oh, indeed!"

Koupriane looked at him with a sour grin. 

"What are you going to do with that man?" demanded Rouletabille. 

"Have him fixed up first. "

"And then?"

"Then take him before the judges. "

"That is to say, to the gallows?"

"Certainly. "

"Monsieur Koupriane, I offer it to you again. Life for life. Give me thelife of that poor devil and I promise you General Trebassof's. "

"Explain yourself. "

"Not at all. Do you promise me that you will maintain silence about thecase of that man and that you will not touch a hair of his head?"

Koupriane looked at Rouletabille as he had looked at him during thealtercation they had on the edge of the Gulf. He decided the same waythis time. 

"Very well, " said he. "You have my word. The poor devil!"

"You are a brave man, Monsieur Koupriane, but a little quick with thewhip. .. "

"What would you expect? One's work teaches that. "

"Good morning. No, don't trouble to show me out. I am compromised enoughalready, " said Rouletabille, laughing. 

"Au revoir, and good luck! Get to work interviewing the President of theDuma, " added Koupriane knowingly, with a great laugh. 

But Rouletabille was already gone. 

"That lad, " said the Chief of Police aloud to himself, "hasn't told me abit of what he knows. "

IX. ANNOUCHKA

"And now it's between us two, Natacha, " murmured Rouletabille as soonas he was outside. He hailed the first carriage that passed and gave theaddress of the datcha des Iles. When he got in he held his head betweenhis hands; his face burned, his jaws were set. But by a prodigiouseffort of his will he resumed almost instantly his calm, hisself-control. As he went back across the Neva, across the bridge wherehe had felt so elated a little while before, and saw the isles again hesighed heavily. "I thought I had got it all over with, so far as I wasconcerned, and now I don't know where it will stop. " His eyes grew darkfor a moment with somber thoughts and the vision of the Lady in Blackrose before him; then he shook his head, filled his pipe, lighted it, dried a tear that had been caused doubtless by a little smoke in hiseye, and stopped sentimentalizing. A quarter of an hour later he gavea true Russian nobleman's fist-blow in the back to the coachman as anintimation that they had reached the Trebassof villa. A charming picturewas before him. They were all lunching gayly in the garden, around thetable in the summer-house. He was astonished, however, at not seeingNatacha with them. Boris Mourazoff and Michael Korsakoff were there. Rouletabille did not wish to be seen. He made a sign to Ermolai, who waspassing through the garden and who hurried to meet him at the gate. 

"The Barinia, " said the reporter, in a low voice and with his finger tohis lips to warn the faithful attendant to caution. 

In two minutes Matrena Petrovna joined Rouletabille in the lodge. 

"Well, where is Natacha?" he demanded hurriedly as she kissed his handsquite as though she had made an idol of him. 

"She has gone away. Yes, out. Oh, I did not keep her. I did not tryto hold her back. Her expression frightened me, you can understand, mylittle angel. My, you are impatient! What is it about? How do we stand?What have you decided? I am your slave. Command me. Command me. The keysof the villa?"

"Yes, give me a key to the veranda; you must have several. I must beable to get into the house to-night if it becomes necessary. "

She drew a key from her gown, gave it to the young man and said a fewwords in Russian to Ermolai, to enforce upon him that he must obey thelittle domovoi-doukh in anything, day or night. 

"Now tell me where Natacha has gone. "

"Boris's parents came to see us a little while ago, to inquire afterthe general. They have taken Natacha away with them, as they often havedone. Natacha went with them readily enough. Little domovoi, listen tome, listen to Matrena Petrovna--Anyone would have said she was expectingit!"

"Then she has gone to lunch at their house?"

"Doubtless, unless they have gone to a cafe. I don't know. Boris'sfather likes to have the family lunch at the Barque when it is fine. Calm yourself, little domovoi. What ails you? Bad news, eh? Any badnews?"

"No, no; everything is all right. Quick, the address of Boris's family. "

"The house at the corner of La Place St. Isaac and la rue de la Poste. "

"Good. Thank you. Adieu. "

He started for the Place St. Isaac, and picked up an interpreter at theGrand Morskaia Hotel on the way. It might be useful to have him. At thePlace St. Isaac he learned the Morazoffs and Natacha Trebassof hadgone by train for luncheon at Bergalowe, one of the nearby stations inFinland. 

"That is all, " said he, and added apart to himself, "And perhaps that isnot true. "

He paid the coachman and the interpreter, and lunched at the Brasseriede Vienne nearby. He left there a half-hour later, much calmer. Hetook his way to the Grand Morskaia Hotel, went inside and asked theschwitzar:

"Can you give me the address of Mademoiselle Annouchka?"

"The singer of the Krestowsky?"

"That is who I mean. "

"She had luncheon here. She has just gone away with the prince. "

Without any curiosity as to which prince, Rouletabille cursed his luckand again asked for her address. 

"Why, she lives in an apartment just across the way. "

Rouletabille, feeling better, crossed the street, followed by theinterpreter that he had engaged. Across the way he learned on thelanding of the first floor that Mademoiselle Annouchka was away for theday. He descended, still followed by his interpreter, and recallinghow someone had told him that in Russia it was always profitable to begenerous, he gave five roubles to the interpreter and asked him for someinformation about Mademoiselle Annouchka's life in St. Petersburg. Theinterpreter whispered:

"She arrived a week ago, but has not spent a single night in herapartment over there. "

He pointed to the house they had just left, and added:

"Merely her address for the police. "

"Yes, yes, " said Rouletabille, "I understand. She sings this evening, doesn't she?"

"Monsieur, it will be a wonderful debut. "

"Yes, yes, I know. Thanks. "

All these frustrations in the things he had undertaken that day insteadof disheartening him plunged him deep into hard thinking. He returned, his hands in his pockets, whistling softly, to the Place St. Isaac, walked around the church, keeping an eye on the house at the corner, investigated the monument, went inside, examined all its details, cameout marveling, and finally went once again to the residence of theMourazoffs, was told that they had not yet returned from the Finlandtown, then went and shut himself in his room at the hotel, where hesmoked a dozen pipes of tobacco. He emerged from his cloud of smoke atdinner-time. 

At ten that evening he stepped out of his carriage before theKrestowsky. The establishment of Krestowsky, which looms among the Islesmuch as the Aquarium does, is neither a theater, nor a music-hall, nor acafe-concert, nor a restaurant, nor a public garden; it is all of theseand some other things besides. Summer theater, winter theater, open-airtheater, hall for spectacles, scenic mountain, exercise-ground, diversions of all sorts, garden promenades, cafes, restaurants, privatedining-rooms, everything is combined here that can amuse, charm, leadto the wildest orgies, or provide those who never think of sleep tilltoward three or four o'clock of a morning the means to await the dawnwith patience. The most celebrated companies of the old and the newworld play there amid an enthusiasm that is steadily maintained by theforesight of the managers: Russian and foreign dancers, and above allthe French chanteuses, the little dolls of the cafes-concerts, so longas they are young, bright, and elegantly dressed, may meet their fortunethere. If there is no such luck, they are sure at least to find everyevening some old beau, and often some officer, who willingly paystwenty-five roubles for the sole pleasure of having a demoiselle bornon the banks of the Seine for his companion at the supper-table. Aftertheir turn at the singing, these women display their graces and theireager smiles in the promenades of the garden or among the tables wherethe champagne-drinkers sit. The head-liners, naturally, are not drivento this wearying perambulation, but can go away to their rest if theyare so inclined. However, the management is appreciative if they acceptthe invitation of some dignitary of the army, of administration, or offinance, who seeks the honor of hearing from the chanteuse, in a privateroom and with a company of friends not disposed to melancholy, theBohemian songs of the Vieux Derevnia. They sing, they loll, they talkof Paris, and above all they drink. If sometimes the little fete endsrather roughly, it is the friendly and affectionate champagne that is toblame, but usually the orgies remain quite innocent, of a character thatcertainly might trouble the temperance societies but need not make M. LeSenateur Berenger feel involved. 

A war whose powder fumes reeked still, a revolution whose last defeatedgrowls had not died away at the period of these events, had not at alldiminished the nightly gayeties of Kretowsky. Many of the young men whodisplayed their uniforms that evening and called their "Nichevo" alongthe brilliantly lighted paths of the public gardens, or filled theopen-air tables, or drank vodka at the buffets, or admired the figuresof the wandering soubrettes, had come here on the eve of their departurefor the war and had returned with the same child-like, enchanted smile, the same ideal of futile joy, and kissed their passing comrades as gaylyas ever. Some of them had a sleeve lying limp now, or walked with acrutch, or even on a wooden leg, but it was, all the same, "Nichevo!"

The crowd this evening was denser than ordinarily, because there was thechance to hear Annouchka again for the first time since the somber daysof Moscow. The students were ready to give her an ovation, and no oneopposed it, because, after all, if she sang now it was because thepolice were willing at last. If the Tsar's government had granted herher life, it was not in order to compel her to die of hunger. Eachearned a livelihood as was possible. Annouchka only knew how to sing anddance, and so she must sing and dance!

When Rouletabille entered the Krestowsky Gardens, Annouchka hadcommenced her number, which ended with a tremendous "Roussalka. "Surrounded by a chorus of male and female dancers in the nationaldress and with red boots, striking tambourines with their fingers, thensuddenly taking a rigid pose to let the young woman's voice, whichwas of rather ordinary register, come out, Annouchka had centered theattention of the immense audience upon herself. All the other partsof the establishment were deserted, the tables had been removed, and apanting crowd pressed about the open-air theater. Rouletabille stood upon his chair at the moment tumultuous "Bravos" sounded from a group ofstudents. Annouchka bowed toward them, seeming to ignore the rest ofthe audience, which had not dared declare itself yet. She sang the oldpeasant songs arranged to present-day taste, and interspersed them withdances. They had an enormous success, because she gave her whole soulto them and sang with her voice sometimes caressing, sometimes menacing, and sometimes magnificently desperate, giving much significance to wordswhich on paper had not aroused the suspicions of the censor. Thetaste of the day was obviously still a taste for the revolution, whichretained its influence on the banks of the Neva. What she was doing wascertainly very bold, and apparently she realized how audacious she was, because, with great adroitness, she would bring out immediately aftersome dangerous phrase a patriotic couplet which everybody was anxious toapplaud. She succeeded by such means in appealing to all the divergentgroups of her audience and secured a complete triumph for herself. Thestudents, the revolutionaries, the radicals and the cadets acclaimed thesinger, glorifying not only her art but also and beyond everything elsethe sister of the engineer Volkousky, who had been doomed to perish withher brother by the bullets of the Semenovsky regiment. The friends ofthe Court on their side could not forget that it was she who, in frontof the Kremlin, had struck aside the arm of Constantin Kochkarof, ordered by the Central Revolutionary Committee to assassinate the GrandDuke Peter Alexandrovitch as he drove up to the governor's house inhis sleigh. The bomb burst ten feet away, killing Constantin Kochkarofhimself. It may be that before death came he had time to hearAnnouchka cry to him, "Wretch! You were told to kill the prince, not toassassinate his children. " As it happened, Peter Alexandrovitch heldon his knees the two little princesses, seven and eight years old. TheCourt had wished to recompense her for that heroic act. Annouchka hadspit at the envoy of the Chief of Police who called to speak to herof money. At the Hermitage in Moscow, where she sang then, some ofher admirers had warned her of possible reprisals on the part of therevolutionaries. But the revolutionaries gave her assurance at once thatshe had nothing to fear. They approved her act and let her know thatthey now counted on her to kill the Grand Duke some time when he wasalone; which had made Annouchka laugh. She was an enfant terrible, whose friends no one knew, who passed for very wise, and whose lines ofintrigue were inscrutable. She enjoyed making her hosts in the privatesupper-rooms quake over their meal. One day she had said bluntly to oneof the most powerful tchinovnicks of Moscow: "You, my old friend, youare president of the Black Hundred. Your fate is sealed. Yesterday youwere condemned to death by the delegates of the Central Committee atPresnia. Say your prayers. " The man reached for champagne. He neverfinished his glass. The dvornicks carried him out stricken withapoplexy. Since the time she saved the little grand-duchesses the policehad orders to allow her to act and talk as she pleased. She had beenmixed up in the deepest plots against the government. Those who lentthe slightest countenance to such plottings and were not of the policesimply disappeared. Their friends dared not even ask for news of them. The only thing not in doubt about them was that they were at hard laborsomewhere in the mines of the Ural Mountains. At the moment ofthe revolution Annouchka had a brother who was an engineer on theKasan-Moscow line. This Volkousky was one of the leaders on the StrikeCommittee. The authorities had an eye on him. The revolution started. He, with the help of his sister, accomplished one of those formidableacts which will carry their memory as heroes to the farthest posterity. Their work accomplished, they were taken by Trebassof's soldiers. Bothwere condemned to death. Volkousky was executed first, and the sisterwas taking her turn when an officer of the government arrived onhorseback to stop the firing. The Tsar, informed of her intended fate, had sent a pardon by telegraph. After that she disappeared. She wassupposed to have gone on some tour across Europe, as was her habit, for she spoke all the languages, like a true Bohemian. Now she hadreappeared in all her joyous glory at Krestowsky. It was certain, however, that she had not forgotten her brother. Gossips said that ifthe government and the police showed themselves so long-enduring theyfound it to their interest to do so. The open, apparent life Annouchkaled was less troublesome to them than her hidden activities would be. The lesser police who surrounded the Chief of the St. Petersburg SecretService, the famous Gounsovski, had meaning smiles when the matterwas discussed. Among them Annouchka had the ignoble nickname, "Stool-pigeon. "

Rouletabille must have been well aware of all these particularsconcerning Annouchka, for he betrayed no astonishment at the greatinterest and the strong emotion she aroused. From the corner where hewas he could see only a bit of the stage, and he was standing on tiptoesto see the singer when he felt his coat pulled. He turned. It wasthe jolly advocate, well known for his gastronomic feats, AthanaseGeorgevitch, along with the jolly Imperial councilor, Ivan Petrovitch, who motioned him to climb down. 

"Come with us; we have a box. "

Rouletabille did not need urging, and he was soon installed in the frontof a box where he could see the stage and the public both. Just then thecurtain fell on the first part of Annouchka's performance. The friendswere soon rejoined by Thaddeus Tchitchnikoff, the great timber-merchant, who came from behind the scenes. 

"I have been to see the beautiful Onoto, " announced the Lithuanian witha great satisfied laugh. "Tell me the news. All the girls are sulkingover Annouchka's success. "

"Who dragged you into the Onoto's dressing-room then? demanded Athanase. 

"Oh, Gounsovski himself, my dear. He is very amateurish, you know. "

"What! do you knock around with Gounsovski?"

"On my word, I tell you, dear friends, he isn't a bad acquaintance. Hedid me a little service at Bakou last year. A good acquaintance in thesetimes of public trouble. "

"You are in the oil business now, are you?"

"Oh, yes, a little of everything for a livelihood. I have a little welldown Bakou way, nothing big; and a little house, a very small one for mysmall business. "

"What a monopolist Thaddeus is, " declared Athanase Georgevitch, hittinghim a formidable slap on the thigh with his enormous hand. "Gounsovskihas come himself to keep an eye on Annouchka's debut, eh? Only he goesinto Onoto's dressing-room, the rogue. "

"Oh, he doesn't trouble himself. Do you know who he is to have supperwith? With Annouchka, my dears, and we are invited. "

"How's that?" inquired the jovial councilor. 

"It seems Gounsovski influenced the minister to permit Annouchka'sperformance by declaring he would be responsible for it all. He requiredfrom Annouchka solely that she have supper with him on the evening ofher debut. "

"And Annouchka consented?"

"That was the condition, it seems. For that matter, they say thatAnnouchka and Gounsovski don't get along so badly together. Gounsovskihas done Annouchka many a good turn. They say he is in love with her. "

"He has the air of an umbrella merchant, " snorted Athanase Georgevitch. 

"Have you seen him at close range?" inquired Ivan. 

"I have dined at his house, though it is nothing to boast of, on myword. "

"That is what he said, " replied Thaddeus. "When he knew we were heretogether, he said to me: 'Bring him, he is a charming fellow who pliesa great fork; and bring that dear man Ivan Petrovitch, and all yourfriends. '"

"Oh, I only dined at his house, " grumbled Athanase, "because there was afavor he was going to do me. "

"He does services for everybody, that man, " observed Ivan Petrovitch. 

"Of course, of course; he ought to, " retorted Athanase. "What is a chiefof Secret Service for if not to do things for everybody? For everybody, my dear friends, and a little for himself besides. A chief of SecretService has to be in with everybody, with everybody and his father, as La Fontaine says (if you know that author), if he wants to hold hisplace. You know what I mean. "

Athanase laughed loudly, glad of the chance to show how French he couldbe in his allusions, and looked at Rouletabille to see if he had beenable to catch the tone of the conversation; but Rouletabille was toomuch occupied in watching a profile wrapped in a mantilla of black lace, in the Spanish fashion, to repay Athanase's performance with a knowingsmile. 

"You certainly have naive notions. You think a chief of Secret Policeshould be an ogre, " replied the advocate as he nodded here and there tohis friends. 

"Why, certainly not. He needs to be a sheep in a place like that, athorough sheep. Gounsovski is soft as a sheep. The time I dined with himhe had mutton streaked with fat. He is just like that. I am sure he ismainly layers of fat. When you shake hands you feel as though youhad grabbed a piece of fat. My word! And when he eats he wags his jawfattishly. His head is like that, too; bald, you know, with a craniumlike fresh lard. He speaks softly and looks at you like a kid looking toits mother for a juicy meal. "

"But--why--it is Natacha!" murmured the lips of the young man. 

"Certainly it is Natacha, Natacha herself, " exclaimed Ivan Petrovitch, who had used his glasses the better to see whom the young Frenchjournalist was looking at. "Ah, the dear child! she has wanted to seeAnnouchka for a long time. "

"What, Natacha! So it is. So it is. Natacha! Natacha!" said the others. "And with Boris Mourazoff's parents. "

"But Boris is not there, " sniggered Thaddeus Tehitchnikoff. 

"Oh, he can't be far away. If he was there we would see MichaelKorsakoff too. They keep close on each other's heels. "

"How has she happened to leave the general? She said she couldn't bearto be away from him. "

"Except to see Annouchka, " replied Ivan. "She wanted to see her, andtalked so about it when I was there that even Feodor Feodorovitch wasrather scandalized at her and Matrena Petrovna reproved her downrightrudely. But what a girl wishes the gods bring about. That's the way. "

"That's so, I know, " put in Athanase. "Ivan Petrovitch is right. Natachahasn't been able to hold herself in since she read that Annouchka wasgoing to make her debut at Krestowsky. She said she wasn't going to diewithout having seen the great artist. "

"Her father had almost drawn her away from that crowd, " affirmed Ivan, "and that was as it should be. She must have fixed up this affair withBoris and his parents. "

"Yes, Feodor certainly isn't aware that his daughter's idea was toapplaud the heroine of Kasan station. She is certainly made of sternstuff, my word, " said Athanase. 

"Natacha, you must remember, is a student, " said Thaddeus, shaking hishead; "a true student. They have misfortunes like that now in so manyfamilies. I recall, apropos of what Ivan said just now, how today sheasked Michael Korsakoff, before me, to let her know where Annouchkawould sing. More yet, she said she wished to speak to that artist if itwere possible. Michael frowned on that idea, even before me. But Michaelcouldn't refuse her, any more than the others. He can reach Annouchkaeasier than anyone else. You remember it was he who rode hard andarrived in time with the pardon for that beautiful witch; she ought notto forget him if she cared for her life. "

"Anyone who knows Michael Nikolaievitch knows that he did his dutypromptly, " announced Athanase Georgevitch crisply. "But he would nothave gone a step further to save Annouchka. Even now he won't compromisehis career by being seen at the home of a woman who is never fromunder the eyes of Gounsovski's agents and who hasn't been nicknamed'Stool-pigeon' for nothing. "

"Then why do we go to supper tonight with Annouchka?" asked Ivan. 

"That's not the same thing. We are invited by Gounsovski himself. Don'tforget that, if stories concerning it drift about some day, my friends, "said Thaddeus. 

"For that matter, Thaddeus, I accept the invitation of the honorablechief of our admirable Secret Service because I don't wish to slighthim. I have dined at his house already. By sitting opposite him at apublic table here I feel that I return that politeness. What do you sayto that?"

"Since you have dined with him, tell us what kind of a man he is asidefrom his fattish qualities, " said the curious councilor. "So many thingsare said about him. He certainly seems to be a man it is better to standin with than to fall out with, so I accept his invitation. How could youmanage to refuse it, anyway?"

"When he first offered me hospitality, " explained the advocate, "Ididn't even know him. I never had been near him. One day a police agentcame and invited me to dinner by command--or, at least, I understood itwasn't wise to refuse the invitation, as you said, Ivan Petrovitch. WhenI went to his house I thought I was entering a fortress, and inside Ithought it must be an umbrella shop. There were umbrellas everywhere, and goloshes. True, it was a day of pouring rain. I was struck by therebeing no guard with a big revolver in the antechamber. He had a little, timid schwitzar there, who took my umbrella, murmuring 'barine' andbowing over and over again. He conducted me through very ordinary roomsquite unguarded to an average sitting-room of a common kind. We dinedwith Madame Gounsovski, who appeared fattish like her husband, and threeor four men whom I had never seen anywhere. One servant waited on us. Myword!

"At dessert Gounsovski took me aside and told me I was unwise to 'arguethat way. ' I asked him what he meant by that. He took my hands betweenhis fat hands and repeated, 'No, no, it is not wise to argue like that. 'I couldn't draw anything else out of him. For that matter, I understoodhim, and, you know, since that day I have cut out certain side passagesunnecessary in my general law pleadings that had been giving me areputation for rather too free opinions in the papers. None of thatat my age! Ah, the great Gounsovski! Over our coffee I asked him if hedidn't find the country in pretty strenuous times. He replied that helooked forward with impatience to the month of May, when he could go fora rest to a little property with a small garden that he had bought atAsnieres, near Paris. When he spoke of their house in the country MadameGounsovski heaved a sigh of longing for those simple country joys. Themonth of May brought tears to her eyes. Husband and wife looked at oneanother with real tenderness. They had not the air of thinking for onesecond: to-morrow or the day after, before our country happiness comes, we may find ourselves stripped of everything. No! They were sure oftheir happy vacation and nothing seemed able to disquiet them undertheir fat. Gounsovski has done everybody so many services that no onereally wishes him ill, poor man. Besides, have you noticed, my dear oldfriends, that no one ever tries to work harm to chiefs of SecretPolice? One goes after heads of police, prefects of police, ministers, grand-dukes, and even higher, but the chiefs of Secret Police are never, never attacked. They can promenade tranquilly in the streets or in thegardens of Krestowsky or breathe the pure air of the Finland country oreven the country around Paris. They have done so many little favors forthis one and that, here and there, that no one wishes to do them theleast injury. Each person always thinks, too, that others have been lesswell served than he. That is the secret of the thing, my friends, thatis the secret. What do you say?"

The others said: "Ah, ah, the good Gounsovski. He knows. He knows. Certainly, accept his supper. With Annouchka it will be fun. "

"Messieurs, " asked Rouletabille, who continued to make discoveries inthe audience, "do you know that officer who is seated at the end of arow down there in the orchestra seats? See, he is getting up. "

"He? Why, that is Prince Galitch, who was one of the richest lords ofthe North Country. Now he is practically ruined. "

"Thanks, gentlemen; certainly it is he. I know him, " said Rouletabille, seating himself and mastering his emotion. 

"They say he is a great admirer of Annouchka, " hazarded Thaddeus. Thenhe walked away from the box. 

"The prince has been ruined by women, " said Athanase Georgevitch, whopretended to know the entire chronicle of gallantries in the empire. 

"He also has been on good terms with Gounsovski, " continued Thaddeus. 

"He passes at court, though, for an unreliable. He once made a longvisit to Tolstoi. "

"Bah! Gounsovski must have rendered some signal service to thatimprudent prince, " concluded Athanase. "But for yourself, Thaddeus, youhaven't said what you did with Gounsovski at Bakou. "

(Rouletabille did not lose a word of what was being said around him, although he never lost sight of the profile hidden in the black mantlenor of Prince Galitch, his personal enemy, * who reappeared, it seemedto him, at a very critical moment. )

 * as told in "The Lady In Black. "

"I was returning from Balakani in a drojki, " said ThaddeusTchitchnikoff, "and I was drawing near Bakou after having seen thedebris of my oil shafts that had been burned by the Tartars, when I metGounsovski in the road, who, with two of his friends, found themselvesbadly off with one of the wheels of their carriage broken. I stopped. He explained to me that he had a Tartar coachman, and that this coachmanhaving seen an Armenian on the road before him, could find nothingbetter to do than run full tilt into the Armenian's equipage. He hadreached over and taken the reins from him, but a wheel of the carriagewas broken. " (Rouletabille quivered, because he caught a glance ofcommunication between Prince Galitch and Natacha, who was leaning overthe edge of her box. ) "So I offered to take Gounsovski and his friendsinto my carriage, and we rode all together to Bakou after Gounsovski, who always wishes to do a service, as Athanase Georgevitch says, hadwarned his Tartar coachman not to finish the Armenian. " (Prince Galitch, at the moment the orchestra commenced the introductory music forAnnouchka's new number, took advantage of all eyes being turned towardthe rising curtain to pass near Natacha's seat. This time he did notlook at Natacha, but Rouletabille was sure that his lips had moved as hewent by her. )

Thaddeus continued: "It is necessary to explain that at Bakou my littlehouse is one of the first before you reach the quay. I had some Armenianemployees there. When arrived, what do you suppose I saw? A file ofsoldiers with cannon, yes, with a cannon, on my word, turned against myhouse and an officer saying quietly, 'there it is. Fire!'" (Rouletabillemade yet another discovery--two, three discoveries. Near by, standingback of Natacha's seat, was a figure not unknown to the young reporter, and there, in one of the orchestra chairs, were two other men whosefaces he had seen that same morning in Koupriane's barracks. Here waswhere a memory for faces stood him in good stead. He saw that he was notthe only person keeping close watch on Natacha. ) "When I heard what theofficer said, " Thaddeus went on, "I nearly dropped out of the drojki. I hurried to the police commissioner. He explained the affair promptly, and I was quick to understand. During my absence one of my Armenianemployees had fired at a Tartar who was passing. For that matter, he hadkilled him. The governor was informed and had ordered the house to bebombarded, for an example, as had been done with several others. I foundGounsovski and told him the trouble in two words. He said it wasn'tnecessary for him to interfere in the affair, that I had only to talkto the officer. 'Give him a good present, a hundred roubles, and he willleave your house. I went back to the officer and took him aside; he saidhe wanted to do anything that he could for me, but that the order waspositive to bombard the house. I reported his answer to Gounsovski, whotold me: 'Tell him then to turn the muzzle of the cannon the other wayand bombard the building of the chemist across the way, then he canalways say that he mistook which house was intended. ' I did that, and hehad them turn the cannon. They bombarded the chemist's place, and I gotout of the whole thing for the hundred roubles. Gounsovski, the goodfellow, may be a great lump of fat and be like an umbrella merchant, butI have always been grateful to him from the bottom of my heart, you canunderstand, Athanase Georgevitch. "

"What reputation has Prince Galitch at the court?" inquired Rouletabilleall at once. 

"Oh, oh!" laughed the others. "Since he went so openly to visit Tolstoihe doesn't go to the court any more. "

"And--his opinions? What are his opinions?"

"Oh, the opinions of everybody are so mixed nowadays, nobody knows. "

Ivan Petrovitch said, "He passes among some people as very advanced andvery much compromised. "

"Yet they don't bother him?" inquired Rouletabille. 

"Pooh, pooh, " replied the gay Councilor of Empire, "it is rather he whotries to mix with them. "

Thaddeus stooped down and said, "They say that he can't be reachedbecause of the hold he has over a certain great personage in the court, and it would be a scandal--a great scandal. "

"Be quiet, Thaddeus, " interrupted Athanase Georgevitch, roughly. "Itis easy to see that you are lately from the provinces to speak sorecklessly, but if you go on this way I shall leave. "

"Athanase Georgevitch is right; hang onto your mouth, Thaddeus, "counseled Ivan Petrovitch. 

The talkers all grew silent, for the curtain was rising. In the audiencethere were mysterious allusions being made to this second number ofAnnouchka, but no one seemed able to say what it was to be, and it was, as a matter of fact, very simple. After the whirl-wind of dances andchoruses and all the splendor with which she had been accompanied thefirst time, Annouchka appeared as a poor Russian peasant in a scenerepresenting the barren steppes, and very simply she sank to her kneesand recited her evening prayers. Annouchka was singularly beautiful. Her aquiline nose with sensitive nostrils, the clean-cut outline ofher eyebrows, her look that now was almost tender, now menacing, alwaysunusual, her pale rounded cheeks and the entire expression of her faceshowed clearly the strength of new ideas, spontaneity, deep resolutionand, above all, passion. The prayer was passionate. She had an admirablecontralto voice which affected the audience strangely from its veryfirst notes. She asked God for daily bread for everyone in the immenseRussian land, daily bread for the flesh and for the spirit, and shestirred the tears of everyone there, to which-ever party they belonged. And when, as her last note sped across the desolate steppe and she roseand walked toward the miserable hut, frantic bravos from a deliriousaudience told her the prodigious emotions she had aroused. LittleRouletabille, who, not understanding the words, nevertheless caught thespirit of that prayer, wept. Everybody wept. Ivan Petrovitch, AthanaseGeorgevitch, Thaddeus Tchitchnikoff were standing up, stamping theirfeet and clapping their hands like enthusiastic boys. The students, whocould be easily distinguished by the uniform green edging they wore ontheir coats, uttered insensate cries. And suddenly there rose the firststrains of the national hymn. There was hesitation at first, a wavering. But not for long. Those who had been dreading some counter-demonstrationrealized that no objection could possibly be raised to a prayer forthe Tsar. All heads uncovered and the Bodje Taara Krari mounted, unanimously, toward the stars. 

Through his tears the young reporter never gave up his close watch onNatacha. She had half risen, and, sinking back, leaned on the edge ofthe box. She called, time and time again, a name that Rouletabillecould not hear in the uproar, but that he felt sure was "Annouchka!Annouchka!" "The reckless girl, " murmured Rouletabille, and, profitingby the general excitement, he left the box without being noticed. He made his way through the crowd toward Natacha, whom he had soughtfutilely since morning. The audience, after clamoring in vain for arepetition of the prayer by Annouchka, commenced to disperse, and thereporter was swept along with them for a few moments. When he reachedthe range of boxes he saw that Natacha and the family she had beenwith were gone. He looked on all sides without seeing the object of hissearch and like a madman commenced to run through the passages, when asudden idea struck his blood cold. He inquired where the exit for theartists was and as soon as it was pointed out, he hurried there. Hewas not mistaken. In the front line of the crowd that waited to seeAnnouchka come out he recognized Natacha, with her head enveloped in theblack mantle so that none should see her face. Besides, this corner ofthe garden was in a half-gloom. The police barred the way; he could notapproach as near Natacha as he wished. He set himself to slip like aserpent through the crowd. He was not separated from Natacha by morethan four or five persons when a great jostling commenced. Annouchkawas coming out. Cries rose: "Annouchka! Annouchka!" Rouletabille threwhimself on his knees and on all-fours succeeded in sticking his headthrough into the way kept by the police for Annouchka's passage. There, wrapped in a great red mantle, his hat on his arm, was a manRouletabille immediately recognized. It was Prince Galitch. They werehurrying to escape the impending pressure of the crowd. But Annouchka asshe passed near Natacha stopped just a second--a movement that did notescape Rouletabille--and, turning toward her said just the one word, "Caracho. " Then she passed on. Rouletabille got up and forced his wayback, having once more lost Natacha. He searched for her. He ran to thecarriage-way and arrived just in time to see her seated in a carriagewith the Mourazoff family. The carriage started at once in the directionof the datcha des Iles. The young man remained standing there, thinking. He made a gesture as though he were ready now to let luck take itscourse. "In the end, " said he, "it will be better so, perhaps, " andthen, to himself, "Now to supper, my boy. "

He turned in his tracks and soon was established in the glaring lightof the restaurant. Officers standing, glass in hand, were saluting fromtable to table and waving a thousand compliments with grace that wasalmost feminine. 

He heard his name called joyously, and recognized the voice of IvanPetrovitch. The three boon companions were seated over a bottle ofchampagne resting in its ice-bath and were being served with tiny pateswhile they waited for the supper-hour, which was now near. 

Rouletabille yielded to their invitation readily enough, and accompaniedthem when the head-waiter informed Thaddeus that the gentlemen weredesired in a private room. They went to the first floor and wereushered into a large apartment whose balcony opened on the hall ofthe winter-theater, empty now. But the apartment was already occupied. Before a table covered with a shining service Gounsovski did the honors. 

He received them like a servant, with his head down, an obsequioussmile, and his back bent, bowing several times as each of the guestswere presented to him. Athanase had described him accurately enough, amannikin in fat. Under the vast bent brow one could hardly see his eyes, behind the blue glasses that seemed always ready to fall as he inclinedtoo far his fat head with its timid and yet all-powerful glance. When hespoke in his falsetto voice, his chin dropped in a fold over his collar, and he had a steady gesture with the thumb and index finger of his righthand to retain the glasses from sliding down his short, thick nose. 

Behind him there was the fine, haughty silhouette of Prince Galitch. Hehad been invited by Annouchka, for she had consented to risk this supperonly in company with three or four of her friends, officers who couldnot be further compromised by this affair, as they were alreadyunder the eye of the Okrana (Secret Police) despite their high birth. Gounsovski had seen them come with a sinister chuckle and had lavishedupon them his marks of devotion. 

He loved Annouchka. It would have sufficed to have surprised just oncethe jealous glance he sent from beneath his great blue glasses when hegazed at the singer to have understood the sentiments that actuated himin the presence of the beautiful daughter of the Black Land. 

Annouchka was seated, or, rather, she lounged, Oriental fashion, on thesofa which ran along the wall behind the table. She paid attention tono one. Her attitude was forbidding, even hostile. She indifferentlyallowed her marvelous black hair that fell in two tresses over hershoulder to be caressed by the perfumed hands of the beautiful Onoto, who had heard her this evening for the first time and had thrown herselfwith enthusiasm into her arms after the last number. Onoto was an artisttoo, and the pique she felt at first over Annouchka's success could notlast after the emotion aroused by the evening prayer before the hut. "Come to supper, " Annouchka had said to her. 

"With whom?" inquired the Spanish artist. 

"With Gounsovski. "

"Never. "

"Do come. You will help me pay my debt and perhaps he will be useful toyou as well. He is useful to everybody. "

Decidedly Onoto did not understand this country, where the worst enemiessupped together. 

Rouletabille had been monopolized at once by Prince Galitch, who tookhim into a corner and said:

"What are you doing here?"

"Do I inconvenience you?" asked the boy. 

The other assumed the amused smile of the great lord. 

"While there is still time, " he said, "believe me, you ought to start, to quit this country. Haven't you had sufficient notice?"

"Yes, " replied the reporter. "And you can dispense with any furthernotice from this time on. "

He turned his back. 

"Why, it is the little Frenchman from the Trebassof villa, " commencedthe falsetto voice of Gounsovski as he pushed a seat towards the youngman and begged him to sit between him and Athanase Georgevitch, who wasalready busy with the hors-d'oeuvres. 

"How do you do, monsieur?" said the beautiful, grave voice of Annouchka. 

Rouletabille saluted. 

"I see that I am in a country of acquaintances, " he said, withoutappearing disturbed. 

He addressed a lively compliment to Annouchka, who threw him a kiss. 

"Rouletabille!" cried la belle Onoto. "Why, then, he is the littlefellow who solved the mystery of the Yellow Room. "

"Himself. "

"What are you doing here?"

"He came to save the life of General Trebassof, " sniggered Gounsovski. "He is certainly a brave little young man. "

"The police know everything, " said Rouletabille coldly. And he asked forchampagne, which he never drank. 

The champagne commenced its work. While Thaddeus and the officerstold each other stories of Bakou or paid compliments to the women, Gounsovski, who was through with raillery, leaned toward Rouletabilleand gave that young man fatherly counsel with great unction. 

"You have undertaken, young man, a noble task and one all the moredifficult because General Trebassof is condemned not only by his enemiesbut still more by the ignorance of Koupriane. Understand me thoroughly:Koupriane is my friend and a man whom I esteem very highly. He is good, brave as a warrior, but I wouldn't give a kopeck for his police. He hasmixed in our affairs lately by creating his own secret police, butI don't wish to meddle with that. It amuses us. It's the new style, anyway; everybody wants his secret police nowadays. And yourself, youngman, what, after all, are you doing here? Reporting? No. Police work?That is our business and your business. I wish you good luck, but Idon't expect it. Remember that if you need any help I will give it youwillingly. I love to be of service. And I don't wish any harm to befallyou. "

"You are very kind, monsieur, " was all Rouletabille replied, and hecalled again for champagne. 

Several times Gounsovski addressed remarks to Annouchka, who concernedherself with her meal and had little answer for him. 

"Do you know who applauded you the most this evening?"

"No, " said Annouchka indifferently. 

"The daughter of General Trebassof. "

"Yes, that is true, on my word, " cried Ivan Petrovitch. 

"Yes, yes, Natacha was there, " joined in the other friends from thedatcha des Iles. 

"For me, I saw her weep, " said Rouletabille, looking at Annouchkafixedly. 

But Annouchka replied in an icy tone:

"I do not know her. "

"She is unlucky in having a father. .. " Prince Galitch commenced. 

"Prince, no politics, or let me take my leave, " clucked Gounsovski. "Your health, dear Annouchka. "

"Your health, Gounsovski. But you have no worry about that. "

"Why?" demanded Thaddeus Tchitchnikoff in equivocal fashion. 

"Because he is too useful to the government, " cried Ivan Petrovitch. 

"No, " replied Annouchka; "to the revolutionaries. "

All broke out laughing. Gounsovski recovered his slipping glasses byhis usual quick movement and sniggered softly, insinuatingly, like fatboiling in the pot:

"So they say. And it is my strength. "

"His system is excellent, " said the prince. "As he is in with everybody, everybody is in with the police, without knowing it. "

"They say. .. Ah, ah. .. They say. .. " (Athanase was choking over a littlepiece of toast that he had soaked in his soup) "they say that he hasdriven away all the hooligans and even all the beggars of the church ofKasan. "

Thereupon they commenced to tell stories of the hooligans, street-thieves who since the recent political troubles had infested St. Petersburg and whom nobody, could get rid of without paying for it. 

Athanase Georgevitch said:

"There are hooligans that ought to have existed even if they never have. One of them stopped a young girl before Varsovie station. The girl, frightened, immediately held out her purse to him, with two roubles andfifty kopecks in it. The hooligan took it all. 'Goodness, ' cried she, 'I have nothing now to take my train with. ' 'How much is it?' asked thehooligan. 'Sixty kopecks. ' 'Sixty kopecks! Why didn't you say so?' Andthe bandit, hanging onto the two roules, returned the fifty-kopeckpiece to the trembling child and added a ten-kopeck piece out of his ownpocket. "

"Something quite as funny happened to me two winters ago, at Moscow, "said la belle Onoto. "I had just stepped out of the door when I wasstopped by a hooligan. 'Give me twenty kopecks, ' said the hooligan. Iwas so frightened that I couldn't get my purse open. 'Quicker, ' said he. Finally I gave him twenty kopecks. 'Now, ' said he then, 'kiss my hand. 'And I had to kiss it, because he held his knife in the other. "

"Oh, they are quick with their knives, " said Thaddeus. "As I wasleaving Gastinidvor once I was stopped by a hooligan who stuck a hugecarving-knife under my nose. 'You can have it for a rouble and a half, 'he said. You can believe that I bought it without any haggling. Andit was a very good bargain. It was worth at least three roubles. Yourhealth, belle Onoto. "

"I always take my revolver when I go out, " said Athanase. "It is moreprudent. I say this before the police. But I would rather be arrested bythe police than stabbed by the hooligans. "

"There's no place any more to buy revolvers, " dedared Ivan Petrovitch. "All such places are closed. "

Gounsovski settled his glasses, rubbed his fat hands and said:

"There are some still at my locksmith's place. The proof is that to-dayin the little Kaniouche my locksmith, whose name is Smith, when into thehouse of the grocer at the corner and wished to sell him a revolver. Itwas a Browning. 'An arm of the greatest reliability, ' he said to him, 'which never misses fire and which works very easily. ' Having pronouncedthese words, the locksmith tried his revolver and lodged a ball in thegrocer's lung. The grocer is dead, but before he died he bought therevolver. 'You are right, ' he said to the locksmith; 'it is a terribleweapon. ' And then he died. "

The others laughed heartily. They thought it very funny. Decidedly thisgreat Gounsovski always had a funny story. Who would not like to behis friend? Annouchka had deigned to smile. Gounsovski, in recognition, extended his hand to her like a mendicant. The young woman touched itwith the end of her fingers, as if she were placing a twenty-kopeckpiece in the hand of a hooligan, and withdrew from it with disgust. Thenthe doors opened for the Bohemians. Their swarthy troupe soon filled theroom. Every evening men and women in their native costumes came from oldDerevnia, where they lived all together in a sort of ancient patriarchalcommunity, with customs that had not changed for centuries; theyscattered about in the places of pleasure, in the fashionablerestaurants, where they gathered large sums, for it was a fashionableluxury to have them sing at the end of suppers, and everyone showeredmoney on them in order not to be behind the others. They accompanied onguzlas, on castanets, on tambourines, and sang the old airs, doleful andlanguorous, or excitable and breathless as the flight of the earliestnomads in the beginnings of the world. 

When they had entered, those present made place for them, andRouletabille, who for some moments had been showing marks of fatigue andof a giddiness natural enough in a young man who isn't in the habitof drinking the finest champagnes, profited by the diversion to get acorner of the sofa not far from Prince Galitch, who occupied the placeat Annouchka's right. 

"Look, Rouletabaille is asleep, " remarked la belle Onoto. 

"Poor boy!" said Annouchka. 

And, turning toward Gounsovski:

"Aren't you soon going to get him out of our way? I heard some of ourbrethren the other day speaking in a way that would cause pain to thosewho care about his health. "

"Oh, that, " said Gounsovski, shaking his head, "is an affair I havenothing to do with. Apply to Koupriane. Your health, belle Annouchka. "

But the Bohemians swept some opening chords for their songs, and thesingers took everybody's attention, everybody excepting Prince Galitchand Annouchka, who, half turned toward one another, exchanged somewords on the edge of all this musical uproar. As for Rouletabille, hecertainly must have been sleeping soundly not to have been waked byall that noise, melodious as it was. It is true that hehad--apparently--drunk a good deal and, as everyone knows, in Russiadrink lays out those who can't stand it. When the Bohemians had sungthree times Gounsovski made a sign that they might go to charm otherears, and slipped into the hands of the chief of the band a twenty-fiverouble note. But Onoto wished to give her mite, and a regular collectioncommenced. Each one threw roubles into the plate held out by a littleswarthy Bohemian girl with crow-black hair, carelessly combed, fallingover her forehead, her eyes and her face, in so droll a fashion that onewould have said the little thing was a weeping-willow soaked in ink. Theplate reached Prince Galitch, who futilely searched his pockets. 

"Bah!" said he, with a lordly air, "I have no money. But here is mypocket-book; I will give it to you for a souvenir of me, Katharina. "

Thaddeus and Athanase exclaimed at the generosity of the prince, butAnnouchka said:

"The prince does as he should, for my friends can never sufficientlyrepay the hospitality that that little thing gave me in her dirty hutwhen I was in hiding, while your famous department was deciding what todo about me, my dear Gounsovski. "

"Eh, " replied Gounsovski, "I let you know that all you had to do was totake a fine apartment in the city. "

Annouchka spat on the ground like a teamster, and Gounsovski from yellowturned green. 

"But why did you hide yourself that way, Annouchka?" asked Onoto as shecaressed the beautiful tresses of the singer. 

"You know I had been condemned to death, and then pardoned. I had beenable to leave Moscow, and I hadn't any desire to be re-taken here andsent to taste the joys of Siberia. "

"But why were you condemned to death?"

"Why, she doesn't know anything!" exclaimed the others. 

"Good Lord, I'm just back from London and Paris--how should I knowanything! But to have been condemned to death! That must have beenamusing. "

"Very amusing, " said Annouchka icily. "And if you have a brother whomyou love, Onoto, think how much more amusing it must be to have him shotbefore you. "

"Oh, my love, forgive me!"

"So you may know and not give any pain to your Annouchka in the future, I will tell you, madame, what happened to our dear friend, " said PrinceGalitch. 

"We would do better to drive away such terrible memories, " venturedGounsovski, lifting his eyelashes behind his glasses, but he bent hishead as Annouchka sent him a blazing glance. 

"Speak, Galitch. "

The Prince did as she said. 

"Annouchka had a brother, Vlassof, an engineer on the Kasan line, whomthe Strike Committee had ordered to take out a train as the only meansof escape for the leaders of the revolutionary troops when Trebassof'ssoldiers, aided by the Semenowsky regiment, had become masters of thecity. The last resistance took place at the station. It was necessaryto get started. All the ways were guarded by the military. There weresoldiers everywhere! Vlassof said to his comrades, 'I will save you;'and his comrades saw him mount the engine with a woman. That womanwas--well, there she sits. Vlassof's fireman had been killed the eveningbefore, on a barricade; it was Annouchka who took his place. They busiedthemselves and the train started like a shot. On that curved line, discovered at once, easy to attack, under a shower of bullets, Vlassofdeveloped a speed of ninety versts an hour. He ran the indicator up tothe explosion point. The lady over there continued to pile coal into thefurnace. The danger came to be less from the military and more froman explosion at any moment. In the midst of the balls Vlassof kept hisusual coolness. He sped not only with the firebox open but with theforced draught. It was a miracle that the engine was not smashed againstthe curve of the embankment. But they got past. Not a man was hurt. Onlya woman was wounded. She got a ball in the chest. "

"There!" cried Annouchka. 

With a magnificent gesture she flung open her white and heaving chest, and put her finger on a scar that Gounsovski, whose fat began to melt inheavy drops of sweat about his temples, dared not look at. 

"Fifteen days later, " continued the prince, "Vlassof entered an innat Lubetszy. He didn't know it was full of soldiers. His face neveraltered. They searched him. They found a revolver and papers on him. They knew whom they had to do with. He was a good prize. Vlassof wastaken to Moscow and condemned to be shot. His sister, wounded as shewas, learned of his arrest and joined him. 'I do not wish, ' she saidto him, 'to leave you to die alone. ' She also was condemned. Before theexecution the soldiers offered to bandage their eyes, but both refused, saying they preferred to meet death face to face. The orders were toshoot all the other condemned revolutionaries first, then Vlassof, then his sister. It was in vain that Vlassof asked to die last. Theircomrades in execution sank to their knees, bleeding from their deathwounds. Vlassof embraced his sister and walked to the place of death. There he addressed the soldiers: 'Now you have to carry out your dutyaccording to the oath you have taken. Fulfill it honestly as I havefulfilled mine. Captain, give the order. ' The volley sounded. Vlassofremained erect, his arms crossed on his breast, safe and sound. Not aball had touched him. The soldiers did not wish to fire at him. He hadto summon them again to fulfill their duty, and obey their chief. Thenthey fired again, and he fell. He looked at his sister with his eyesfull of horrible suffering. Seeing that he lived, and wishing to appearcharitable, the captain, upon Annouchka's prayers, approached and cutshort his sufferings by firing a revolver into his ear. Now it wasAnnouchka's turn. She knelt by the body of her brother, kissed hisbloody lips, rose and said, 'I am ready. ' As the guns were raised, anofficer came running, bearing the pardon of the Tsar. She did notwish it, and she whom they had not bound when she was to die had to berestrained when she learned she was to live. "

Prince Galitch, amid the anguished silence of all there, started toadd some words of comment to his sinister recital, but Annouchkainterrupted:

"The story is ended, " said she. "Not a word, Prince. If I asked youto tell it in all its horror, if I wished you to bring back to us theatrocious moment of my brother's death, it is so that monsieur" (herfingers pointed to Gounsovski) "shall know well, once for all, that ifI have submitted for some hours now to this promiscuous company that hasbeen imposed upon me, now that I have paid the debt by accepting thisabominable supper, I have nothing more to do with this purveyor ofbagnios and of hangman's ropes who is here. "

"She is mad, " he muttered. "She is mad. What has come over her? What hashappened? Only to-day she was so, so amiable. "

And he stuttered, desolately, with an embarrassed laugh:

"Ah, the women, the women! Now what have I done to her?"

"What have you done to me, wretch? Where are Belachof, Bartowsky andStrassof? And Pierre Slutch? All the comrades who swore with me torevenge my brother? Where are they? On what gallows did you have themhung? What mine have you buried them in? And still you follow yourslavish task. And my friends, my other friends, the poor comrades of myartist life, the inoffensive young men who have not committed anyother crime than to come to see me too often when I was lively, and whobelieved they could talk freely in my dressing-room--where are they?Why have they left me, one by one? Why have they disappeared? It is you, wretch, who watched them, who spied on them, making me, I haven't anydoubt, your horrible accomplice, mixing me up in your beastly work, youdog! You knew what they call me. You have known it for a long time, andyou may well laugh over it. But I, I never knew until this evening; Inever learned until this evening all I owe to you. 'Stool pigeon! Stoolpigeon!' I! Horror! Ah, you dog, you dog! Your mother, when you werebrought into the world, your mother. .. " Here she hurled at him the mostoffensive insult that a Russian can offer a man of that race. 

She trembled and sobbed with rage, spat in fury, and stood up ready togo, wrapped in her mantle like a great red flag. She was the statue ofhate and vengeance. She was horrible and terrible. She was beautiful. At the final supreme insult, Gounsovski started and rose to his feet asthough he had received an actual blow in the face. He did not look atAnnouchka, but fixed his eyes on Prince Galitch. His finger pointed himout:

"There is the man, " he hissed, "who has told you all these fine things. "

"Yes, it is I, " said the Prince, tranquilly. 

"Caracho!" barked Gounsovski, instantaneously regaining his coolness. 

"Ah, yes, but you'll not touch him, " clamored the spirited girl of theBlack Land; "you are not strong enough for that. "

"I know that monsieur has many friends at court, " agreed the chief ofthe Secret Service with an ominous calm. "I 'don't wish ill to monsieur. You speak, madame, of the way some of your friends have had to besacrificed. I hope that some day you will be better informed, and thatyou will understand I saved all of them I could. "

"Let us go, " muttered Annouchka. "I shall spit in his face. "

"Yes, all I could, " replied the other, with his habitual gesture ofhanging on to his glasses. "And I shall continue to do so. I promise younot to say anything more disagreeable to the prince than as regards hislittle friend the Bohemian Katharina, whom he has treated so generouslyjust now, doubtless because Boris Mourazoff pays her too little for theerrands she runs each morning to the villa of Krestowsky Ostrow. "

At these words the Prince and Annouchka both changed countenance. Theiranger rose. Annouchka turned her head as though to arrange the foldsof her cloak. Galitch contented himself with shrugging his shouldersimpatiently and murmuring:

"Still some other abomination that you are concocting, monsieur, andthat we don't know how to reply to. "

After which he bowed to the supper-party, took Annouchka's arm and hadher move before him. Gounsovski bowed, almost bent in two. When he rosehe saw before him the three astounded and horrified figures of ThaddeusTchitchnikoff, Ivan Petrovitch and Athanase Georgevitch. 

"Messieurs, " he said to them, in a colorless voice which seemed not tobelong to him, "the time has come for us to part. I need not say that wehave supped as friends and that, if you wish it to be so, we can forgeteverything that has been said here. "

The three others, frightened, at once protested their discretion. He added, roughly this time, "Service of the Tsar, " and the threestammered, "God save the Tsar!" After which he saw them to the door. When the door had closed after them, he said, "My little Annouchka, you mustn't reckon without me. " He hurried toward the sofa, whereRouletabille was lying forgotten, and gave him a tap on the shoulder. 

"Come, get up. Don't act as though you were asleep. Not an instantto lose. They are going to carry through the Trebassof affair thisevening. "

Rouletabille was already on his legs. 

"Oh, monsieur, " said he, "I didn't want you to tell me that. Thanks allthe same, and good evening. "

He went out. 

Gounsovski rang. A servant appeared. 

"Tell them they may now open all the rooms on this corridor; I'll nothold them any longer. " Thus had Gounsovski kept himself protected. 

Left alone, the head of the Secret Service wiped his brow and drank agreat glass of iced water which he emptied at a draught. Then he said:

"Koupriane will have his work cut out for him this evening; I wish himgood luck. As to them, whatever happens, I wash my hands of them. "

And he rubbed his hands. 

X. A DRAMA IN THE NIGHT

At the door of the Krestowsky Rouletabille, who was in a hurry fora conveyance, jumped into an open carriage where la belle Onoto wasalready seated. The dancer caught him on her knees. 

"To Eliaguine, fast as you can, " cried the reporter for all explanation. 

"Scan! Scan! (Quickly, quickly)" repeated Onoto. 

She was accompanied by a vague sort of person to whom neither of thempaid the least attention. 

"What a supper! You waked up at last, did you?" quizzed the actress. ButRouletabille, standing up behind the enormous coachman, urged the horsesand directed the route of the carriage. They bolted along through thenight at a dizzy pace. At the corner of a bridge he ordered the horsesstopped, thanked his companions and disappeared. 

"What a country! What a country! Caramba!" said the Spanish artist. 

The carriage waited a few minutes, then turned back toward the city. 

Rouletabille got down the embankment and slowly, taking infiniteprecautions not to reveal his presence by making the least noise, madehis way to where the river is widest. Seen through the blackness of thenight the blacker mass of the Trebassof villa loomed like an enormousblot, he stopped. Then he glided like a snake through the reeds, thegrass, the ferns. He was at the back of the villa, near the river, notfar from the little path where he had discovered the passage of theassassin, thanks to the broken cobwebs. At that moment the moon rose andthe birch-trees, which just before had been like great black staffs, nowbecame white tapers which seemed to brighten that sinister solitude. 

The reporter wished to profit at once by the sudden luminance to learnif his movements had been noticed and if the approaches to the villa onthat side were guarded. He picked up a small pebble and threw it somedistance from him along the path. At the unexpected noise three or fourshadowy heads were outlined suddenly in the white light of the moon, butdisappeared at once, lost again in the dark tufts of grass. 

He had gained his information. 

The reporter's acute ear caught a gliding in his direction, a slightswish of twigs; then all at once a shadow grew by his side and he feltthe cold of a revolver barrel on his temple. He said "Koupriane, " and atonce a hand seized his and pressed it. 

The night had become black again. He murmured: "How is it you are herein person?"

The Prefect of Police whispered in his ear:

"I have been informed that something will happen to-night. Natacha wentto Krestowsky and exchanged some words with Annouchka there. PrinceGalitch is involved, and it is an affair of State. "

"Natacha has returned?" inquired Rouletabille. 

"Yes, a long time ago. She ought to be in bed. In any case she ispretending to be abed. The light from her chamber, in the window overthe garden, has been put out. "

"Have you warned Matrena Petrovna?"

"Yes, I have let her know that she must keep on the sharp look-outto-night. "

"That's a mistake. I shouldn't have told her anything. She will takesuch extra precautions that the others will be instantly warned. "

"I have told her she should not go to the ground-floor at all thisnight, and that she must not leave the general's chamber. "

"That is perfect, if she will obey you. "

"You see I have profited by all your information. I have followed yourinstructions. The road from the Krestowsky is under surveillance. "

"Perhaps too much. How are you planning?"

"We will let them enter. I don't know whom I have to deal with. I wantto strike a sure blow. I shall take him in the act. No more doubt afterthis, you trust me. "

"Adieu. "

"Where are you going?"

"To bed. I have paid my debt to my host. I have the right to some reposenow. Good luck!"

But Koupriane had seized his hand. 

"Listen. "

With a little attention they detected a light stroke on the water. Ifa boat was moving at this time for this bank of the Neva and wished toremain hidden, the right moment had certainly been chosen. A great blackcloud covered the moon; the wind was light. The boat would have time toget from one bank to the other without being discovered. Rouletabillewaited no longer. On all-fours he ran like a beast, rapidly andsilently, and rose behind the wall of the villa, where he made a turn, reached the gate, aroused the dvornicks and demanded Ermolai, who openedthe gate for him. 

"The Barinia?" he said. 

Ermolai pointed his finger to the bedroom floor. 

"Caracho!"

Rouletabille was already across the garden and had hoisted himself byhis fingers to the window of Natacha's chamber, where he listened. Heplainly heard Natacha walking about in the dark chamber. He fell backlightly onto his feet, mounted the veranda steps and opened the door, then closed it so lightly that Ermolai, who watched him from outside nottwo feet away, did not hear the slightest grinding of the hinges. Insidethe villa Rouletabille advanced on tiptoe. He found the door of thedrawing-room open. The door of the sitting-room had not been closed, orelse had been reopened. He turned in his tracks, felt in the dark for achair and sat down, with his hand on his revolver in his pocket, waitingfor the events that would not delay long now. Above he heard distinctlyfrom time to time the movements of Matrena Petrovna. And this wouldevidently give a sense of security to those who needed to have theground-floor free this night. Rouletabille imagined that the doors ofthe rooms on the ground-floor had been left open so that it would beeasier for those who would be below to hear what was happening upstairs. And perhaps he was not wrong. 

Suddenly there was a vertical bar of pale light from the sitting-roomthat overlooked the Neva. He deduced two things: first, that the windowwas already slightly open, then that the moon was out from the cloudsagain. The bar of light died almost instantly, but Rouletabille's eyes, now used to the obscurity, still distinguished the open line of thewindow. There the shade was less deep. Suddenly he felt the blood poundat his temples, for the line of the open window grew larger, increased, and the shadow of a man gradually rose on the balcony. Rouletabille drewhis revolver. 

The man stood up immediately behind one of the shutters and struck alight blow on the glass. Placed as he was now he could be seen no more. His shadow mixed with the shadow of the shutter. At the noise onthe glass Natacha's door had opened cautiously, and she entered thesitting-room. On tiptoe she went quickly to the window and opened it. The man entered. The little light that by now was commencing to dawnwas enough to show Rouletabille that Natacha still wore the toilette inwhich he had seen her that same evening at Krestowsky. As for the man, he tried in vain to identify him; he was only a dark mass wrapped ina mantle. He leaned over and kissed Natacha's hand. She said only oneword: "Scan!" (Quickly). 

But she had no more than said it before, under a vigorous attack, theshutters and the two halves of the window were thrown wide, and silentshadows jumped rapidly onto the balcony and sprang into the villa. Natacha uttered a shrill cry in which Rouletabille believed still heheard more of despair than terror, and the shadows threw themselves onthe man; but he, at the first alarm, had thrown himself upon the carpetand had slipped from them between their legs. He regained the balconyand jumped from it as the others turned toward him. At least, it wasso that Rouletabille believed he saw the mysterious struggle go in thehalf-light, amid most impressive silence, after that frightened cry ofNatacha's. The whole affair had lasted only a few seconds, and the manwas still hanging over the balcony, when from the bottom of the hall anew person sprang. It was Matrena Petrovna. 

Warned by Koupriane that something would happen that night, andforeseeing that it would happen on the ground-floor where she wasforbidden to be, she had found nothing better to do than to make herfaithful maid go secretly to the bedroom floor, with orders to walkabout there all night, to make all think she herself was near thegeneral, while she remained below, hidden in the dining-room. 

Matrena Petrovna now threw herself out onto the balcony, crying inRussian, "Shoot! Shoot!" In just that moment the man was hesitatingwhether to risk the jump and perhaps break his neck, or descend lessrapidly by the gutter-pipe. A policeman fired and missed him, and theman, after firing back and wounding the policeman, disappeared. It wasstill too far from dawn for them to see clearly what happened below, where the barking of Brownings alone was heard. And there could benothing more sinister than the revolver-shots unaccompanied by cries inthe mists of the morning. The man, before he disappeared, had had onlytime by a quick kick to throw down one of the two ladders which had beenused by the police in climbing; down the other one all the police in abunch, even to the wounded one, went sliding, falling, rising, runningafter the shadow which fled still, discharging the Browning steadily;other shadows rose from the river-bank, hovering in the mist. SuddenlyKoupniane's voice was heard shouting orders, calling upon his agents totake the quarry alive or dead. From the balcony Matrena Petrovna criedout also, like a savage, and Rouletabille tried in vain to keep herquiet. She was delirious at the thought "The Other" might escape yet. She fired a revolver, she also, into the group, not knowing whom shemight wound. Rouletabille grabbed her arm and as she turned on himangrily she observed Natacha, who, leaning until she almost fell overthe balcony, her lips trembling with delirious utterance, followed aswell as she could the progress of the struggle, trying to understandwhat happened below, under the trees, near the Neva, where the tumultby now extended. Matrena Petrovna pulled her back by the arms. Then shetook her by the neck and threw her into the drawing-room in a heap. Whenshe had almost strangled her step-daughter, Matrena Petrovna saw thatthe general was there. He appeared in the pale glimmerings of dawn likea specter. By what miracle had Feodor Feodorovitch been able to descendthe stairs and reach there? How had it been brought about? She saw himtremble with anger or with wretchedness under the folds of the soldier'scape that floated about him. He demanded in a hoarse voice, "What isit?"

Matrena Petrovna threw herself at his feet, made the orthodox sign ofthe Cross, as if she wished to summon God to witness, and then, pointingto Natacha, she denounced his daughter to her husband as she would havepointed her out to a judge. 

"The one, Feodor Feodorovitch, who has wished more than once toassassinate you, and who this night has opened the datcha to yourassassin is your daughter. "

The general held himself up by his two hands against the wall, and, looking at Matrena and Natacha, who now were both upon the floor beforehim like suppliants, he said to Matrena:

"It is you who assassinate me. "

"Me! By the living God!" babbled Matrena Petrovna desperately. "If I hadbeen able to keep this from you, Jesus would have been good! But I sayno more to crucify you. Feodor Feodorovitch, question your daughter, and if what I have said is not true, kill me, kill me as a lying, evilbeast. I will say thank you, thank you, and I will die happier than ifwhat I have said was true. Ah, I long to be dead! Kill me!"

Feodor Feodorovitch pushed her back with his stick as one would pusha worm in his path. Without saying anything further, she rose fromher knees and looked with her haggard eyes, with her crazed face, atRouletabille, who grasped her arm. If she had had her hands still freeshe would not have hesitated a second in wreaking justice upon herselfunder this bitter fate of alienating Feodor. And it seemed frightful toRouletabille that he should be present at one of those horrible familydramas the issue of which in the wild times of Peter the Great wouldhave sent the general to the hangman either as a father or as a husband. 

The general did not deign even to consider for any length of timeMatrena's delirium. He said to his daughter, who shook with sobs on thefloor, "Rise, Natacha Feodorovna. " And Feodor's daughter understood thather father never would believe in her guilt. She drew herself up towardshim and kissed his hands like a happy slave. 

At this moment repeated blows shook the veranda door. Matrena, thewatch-dog, anxious to die after Feodor's reproach, but still ather post, ran toward what she believed to be a new danger. But sherecognized Koupriane's voice, which called on her to open. She let himin herself. 

"What is it?" she implored. 

"Well, he is dead. "

A cry answered him. Natacha had heard. 

"But who--who--who?" questioned Matrena breathlessly. 

Koupriane went over to Feodor and grasped his hands. 

"General, " he said, "there was a man who had sworn your ruin and who wasmade an instrument by your enemies. We have just killed that man. "

"Do I know him?" demanded Feodor. 

"He is one of your friends, you have treated him like a son. "

"His name?"

"Ask your daughter, General. "

Feodor turned toward Natacha, who burned Koupriane with her gaze, tryingto learn what this news was he brought--the truth or a ruse. 

"You know the man who wished to kill me, Natacha?"

"No, " she replied to her father, in accents of perfect fury. "No, Idon't know any such man. "

"Mademoiselle, " said Koupriane, in a firm, terribly hostile voice, "youhave yourself, with your own hands, opened that window to-night; and youhave opened it to him many other times besides. While everyone else heredoes his duty and watches that no person shall be able to enter at nightthe house where sleeps General Trebassof, governor of Moscow, condemnedto death by the Central Revolutionary Committee now reunited at Presnia, this is what you do; it is you who introduce the enemy into this place. "

"Answer, Natacha; tell me, yes or no, whether you have let anybody intothis house by night. "

"Father, it is true. "

Feodor roared like a lion:

"His name!"

"Monsieur will tell you himself, " said Natacha, in a voice thick withterror, and she pointed to Koupriane. "Why does he not tell you himselfthe name of that person? He must know it, if the man is dead. "

"And if the man is not dead, " replied Feodor, who visibly held ontohimself, "if that man, whom you helped to enter my house this night, hassucceeded in escaping, as you seem to hope, will you tell us his name?"

"I could not tell it, Father. "

"And if I prayed you to do so?"

Natacha desperately shook her head. 

"And if I order you?"

"You can kill me, Father, but I will not pronounce that name. "

"Wretch!"

He raised his stick toward her. Thus Ivan the Terrible had killed hisson with a blow of his boar-spear. 

But Natacha, instead of bowing her head beneath the blow that menacedher, turned toward Koupriane and threw at him in accents of triumph:

"He is not dead. If you had succeeded in taking him, dead or alive, youwould already have his name. "

Koupriane took two steps toward her, put his hand on her shoulder andsaid:

"Michael Nikolajevitch. "

"Michael Korsakoff!" cried the general. 

Matrena Petrovna, as if revolted by that suggestion, stood upright torepeat:

"Michael Korsakoff!"

The general could not believe his ears, and was about to protest when henoticed that his daughter had turned away and was trying to flee to herroom. He stopped her with a terrible gesture. 

"Natacha, you are going to tell us what Michael Korsakoff came here todo to-night. "

"Feodor Feodorovitch, he came to poison you. "

It was Matrena who spoke now and whom nothing could have kept silent, for she saw in Natacha's attempt at flight the most sinister confession. Like a vengeful fury she told over with cries and terrible gestures whatshe had experienced, as if once more stretched before her the handarmed with the poison, the mysterious hand above the pillow of her poorinvalid, her dear, rigorous tyrant; she told them about the precedingnight and all her terrors, and from her lips, by her voluble staccatoutterance that ominous recital had grotesque emphasis. Finally she toldall that she had done, she and the little Frenchman, in order not tobetray their suspicions to The Other, in order to take finally in theirown trap all those who for so many days and nights schemed for the deathof Feodor Feodorovitch. As she ended she pointed out Rouletabille toFeodor and cried, "There is the one who has saved you. "

Natacha, as she listened to this tragic recital, restrained herselfseveral times in order not to interrupt, and Rouletabille, who waswatching her closely, saw that she had to use almost superhuman effortsin order to achieve that. All the horror of what seemed to be to her aswell as to Feodor a revelation of Michael's crime did not subdue her, but seemed, on the contrary, to restore to her in full force all thelife that a few seconds earlier had fled from her. Matrena had hardlyfinished her cry, "There is the one who has saved you, " before Natachacried in her turn, facing the reporter with a look full of the mostfrightful hate, "There is the one who has been the death of an innocentman!" She turned to her father. "Ah, papa, let me, let me say thatMichael Nikolaievitch, who came here this evening, I admit, and whom, itis true, I let into the house, that Michael Nikolaievitch did notcome here yesterday, and that the man who has tried to poison you iscertainly someone else. "

At these words Rouletabille turned pale, but he did not let himself loseself-control. He replied simply:

"No, mademoiselle, it was the same man. "

And Koupriane felt compelled to add:

"Anyway, we have found the proof of Michael Nikolaievitch's relationswith the revolutionaries. "

"Where have you found that?" questioned the young girl, turning towardthe Chief of Police a face ravished with anguish. 

"At Krestowsky, mademoiselle. "

She looked a long time at him as though she would penetrate to thebottom of his thoughts. 

"What proofs?" she implored. 

"A correspondence which we have placed under seal. "

"Was it addressed to him? What kind of correspondence?"

"If it interests you, we will open it before you. "

"My God! My God!" she gasped. "Where have you found this correspondence?Where? Tell me where!"

"I will tell you. `At the villa, in his chamber. We forced the lock ofhis bureau. "

She seemed to breathe again, but her father took her brutally by thearm. 

"Come, Natacha, you are going to tell us what that man was doing hereto-night. "

"In her chamber!" cried Matrena Petrovna. 

Natacha turned toward Matrena:

"What do you believe, then? Tell me now. "

"And I, what ought I to believe?" muttered Feodor. "You have not toldme yet. You did not know that man had relations with my enemies. You areinnocent of that, perhaps. I wish to think so. I wish it, in the nameof Heaven I wish it. But why did you receive him? Why? Why did you bringhim in here, as a robber or as a. .. "

"Oh, papa, you know that I love Boris, that I love him with all myheart, and that I would never belong to anyone but him. "

"Then, then, then. --speak!"

The young girl had reached the crisis. 

"Ah, Father, Father, do not question me! You, you above all, do notquestion me now. I can say nothing! There is nothing I can tellyou. Excepting that I am sure--sure, you understand--that MichaelNikolaievitch did not come here last night. "

"He did come, " insisted Rouletabille in a slightly troubled voice. 

"He came here with poison. He came here to poison your father, Natacha, "moaned Matrena Petrovna, who twined her hands in gestures of sincere andnaive tragedy. 

"And I, " replied the daughter of Feodor ardently, with an accentof conviction which made everyone there vibrate, and particularlyRouletabille, "and I, I tell you it was not he, that it was not he, thatit could not possibly be he. I swear to you it was another, another. "

"But then, this other, did you let him in as well?" said Koupriane. 

"Ah, yes, yes. It was I. It was I. It was I who left the window andblinds open. Yes, it is I who did that. But I did not wait for theother, the other who came to assassinate. As to Michael Nikolaievitch, I swear to you, my father, by all that is most sacred in heaven andon earth, that he could not have committed the crime that you say. Andnow--kill me, for there is nothing more I can say. "

"The poison, " replied Koupriane coldly, "the poison that he poured intothe general's potion was that arsenate of soda which was on the grapesthe Marshal of the Court brought here. Those grapes were left by theMarshal, who warned Michael Nikolaievitch and Boris Alexandrovitch towash them. The grapes disappeared. If Michael is innocent, do you accuseBoris?"

Natacha, who seemed to have suddenly lost all power for defendingherself, moaned, begged, railed, seemed dying. 

"No, no. Don't accuse Boris. He has nothing to do with it. Don't accuseMichael. Don't accuse anyone so long as you don't know. But these twoare innocent. Believe me. Believe me. Ah, how shall I say it, how shallI persuade you! I am not able to say anything to you. And you havekilled Michael. Ah, what have you done, what have you done!"

"We have suppressed a man, " said the icy voice of Koupriane, "who wasmerely the agent for the base deeds of Nihilism. "

She succeeded in recovering a new energy that in her depths of despairthey would have supposed impossible. She shook her fists at Koupriane:

"It is not true, it is not true. These are slanders, infamies! Theinventions of the police! Papers devised to incriminate him. Thereis nothing at all of what you said you found at his house. It is notpossible. It is not true. "

"Where are those papers?" demanded the curt voice of Feodor. "Bring themhere at once, Koupriane; I wish to see them. "

Koupriane was slightly troubled, and this did not escape Natacha, whocried:

"Yes, yes, let him give us them, let him bring them if he has them. Buthe hasn't, " she clamored with a savage joy. "He has nothing. You cansee, papa, that he has nothing. He would already have brought them out. He has nothing. I tell you he has nothing. Ah, he has nothing! He hasnothing!"

And she threw herself on the floor, weeping, sobbing, "He has nothing, he has nothing!" She seemed to weep for joy. 

"Is that true?" demanded Feodor Feodorovitch, with his most sombermanner. "Is it true, Koupriane, that you have nothing?"

"It is true, General, that we have found nothing. Everything had alreadybeen carried away. "

But Natacha uttered a veritable torrent of glee:

"He has found nothing! Yet he accuses him of being allied withthe revolutionaries. Why? Why? Because I let him in? But I, am I arevolutionary? Tell me. Have I sworn to kill papa? I? I? Ah, he doesn'tknow what to say. You see for yourself, papa, he is silent. He has lied. He has lied. "

"Why have you made this false statement, Koupriane?"

"Oh, we have suspected Michael for some time, and truly, after what hasjust happened, we cannot have any doubt. "

"Yes, but you declared you had papers, and you have not. That isabominable procedure, Koupriane, " replied Feodor sternly. "I have heardyou condemn such expedients many times. "

"General! We are sure, you hear, we are absolutely sure that the man whotried to poison you yesterday and the man to-day who is dead are one andthe same. "

"And what reason have you for being so sure? It is necessary to tellit, " insisted the general, who trembled with distress and impatience. 

"Yes, let him tell now. "

"Ask monsieur, " said Koupriane. 

They all turned to Rouletabille. 

The reporter replied, affecting a coolness that perhaps he did notentirely feel:

"I am able to state to you, as I already have before Monsieur thePrefect of Police, that one, and only one, person has left the traces ofhis various climbings on the wall and on the balcony. "

"Idiot!" interrupted Natacha, with a passionate disdain for the youngman. "And that satisfies you?"

The general roughly seized the reporter's wrist:

"Listen to me, monsieur. A man came here this night. That concerns onlyme. No one has any right to be astonished excepting myself. I make it myown affair, an affair between my daughter and me. But you, you have justtold us that you are sure that man is an assassin. Then, you see, thatcalls for something else. Proofs are necessary, and I want the proofsat once. You speak of traces; very well, we will go and examine thosetraces together. And I wish for your sake, monsieur, that I shall be asconvinced by them as you are. "

Rouletabille quietly disengaged his wrist and replied with perfect calm:

"Now, monsieur, I am no longer able to prove anything to you. "

"Why?"

"Because the ladders of the police agents have wiped out all my proofs, monsieur. 

"So now there remains for us only your word, only your belief inyourself. And if you are mistaken?"

"He would never admit it, papa, " cried Natacha. "Ah, it is he whodeserves the fate Michael Nikolaievitch has met just now. Isn't it so?Don't you know it? And that will be your eternal remorse! Isn't theresomething that always keeps you from admitting that you are mistaken?You have had an innocent man killed. Now, you know well enough, you knowwell that I would not have admitted Michael Nikolaievitch here if I hadbelieved he was capable of wishing to poison my father. "

"Mademoiselle, " replied Rouletabille, not lowering his eyes underNatacha's thunderous regard, "I am sure of that. "

He said it in such a tone that Natacha continued to look at him withincomprehensible anguish in her eyes. Ah, the baffling of those tworegards, the mute scene between those two young people, one of whomwished to make himself understood and the other afraid beyond all otherthings of being thoroughly understood. Natacha murmured:

"How he looks at me! See, he is the demon; yes, yes, the little domovoi, the little domovoi. But look out, poor wretch; you don't know what youhave done. "

She turned brusquely toward Koupriane:

"Where is the body of Michael Nikolaievitch?" said she. "I wish to seeit. I must see it. "

Feodor Feodorovitch had fallen, as though asleep, upon a chair. MatrenaPetrovna dared not approach him. The giant appeared hurt to the death, disheartened forever. What neither bombs, nor bullets, nor poison hadbeen able to do, the single idea of his daughter's co-operation in thework of horror plotted about him--or rather the impossibility he facedof understanding Natacha's attitude, her mysterious conduct, thechaos of her explanations, her insensate cries, her protestationsof innocence, her accusations, her menaces, her prayers and allher disorder, the avowed fact of her share in that tragic nocturnaladventure where Michael Nikolaievitch found his death, had knocked overFeodor Feodorovitch like a straw. One instant he sought refuge in somevague hope that Koupriane was less assured than he pretended of theorderly's guilt. But that, after all, was only a detail of no importancein his eyes. What alone mattered was the significance of Natacha's act, and the unhappy girl seemed not to be concerned over what he wouldthink of it. She was there to fight against Koupriane, Rouletabille andMatrena Petrovna, defending her Michael Nikolajevitch, while he, thefather, after having failed to overawe her just now, was there in acorner suffering agonizedly. 

Koupriane walked over to him and said:

"Listen to me carefully, Feodor Feodorovitch. He who speaks to you isHead of the Police by the will of the Tsar, and your friend by the graceof God. If you do not demand before us, who are acquainted with all thathas happened and who know how to keep any necessary secret, if you donot demand of your daughter the reason for her conduct with MichaelNikolaievitch, and if she does not tell you in all sincerity, there isnothing more for me to do here. My men have already been ordered awayfrom this house as unworthy to guard the most loyal subject of HisMajesty; I have not protested, but now I in my turn ask you to prove tome that the most dangerous enemy you have had in your house is not yourdaughter. "

These words, which summed up the horrible situation, came as a relieffor Feodor. Yes, they must know. Koupriane was right. She must speak. Heordered his daughter to tell everything, everything. 

Natacha fixed Koupriane again with her look of hatred to the death, turned from him and repeated in a firm voice:

"I have nothing to say. "

"There is the accomplice of your assassins, " growled Koupriane then, hisarm extended. 

Natacha uttered a cry like a wounded beast and fell at her father'sfeet. She gathered them within her supplicating arms. She pressed themto her breasts. She sobbed from the bottom of her heart. And he, notcomprehending, let her lie there, distant, hostile, somber. Then shemoaned, distractedly, and wept bitterly, and the dramatic atmosphere inwhich she thus suddenly enveloped Feodor made it all sound like thosecries of an earlier time when the all-powerful, punishing fatherappeared in the women's apartments to punish the culpable ones. 

"My father! Dear Father! Look at me! Look at me! Have pity on me, and donot require me to speak when I must be silent forever. And believe me!Do not believe these men! Do not believe Matrena Petrovna. And am I notyour daughter? Your very own daughter! Your Natacha Feodorovna! I cannotmake things dear to you. No, no, by the Holy Virgin Mother of JesusI cannot explain. By the holy ikons, it is because I must not. By mymother, whom I have not known and whose place you have taken, oh, myfather, ask me nothing more! Ask me nothing more! But take me in yourarms as you did when I was little; embrace me, dear father; love me. I never have had such need to be loved. Love me! I am miserable. Unfortunate me, who cannot even kill myself before your eyes to provemy innocence and my love. Papa, Papa! What will your arms be for in thedays left you to live, if you no longer wish to press me to your heart?Papa! Papa!"

She laid her head on Feodor's knees. Her hair had come down and hungabout her in a magnificent disorderly mass of black. 

"Look in my eyes! Look in my eyes! See how they love you, Batouchka!Batouchka! My dear Batouchka!"

Then Feodor wept. His great tears fell upon Natacha's tears. He raisedher head and demanded simply in a broken voice:

"You can tell me nothing now? But when will you tell me?"

Natacha lifted her eyes to his, then her look went past him towardheaven, and from her lips came just one word, in a sob:

"Never. "

Matrena Petrovna, Koupriane and the reporter shuddered before the highand terrible thing that happened then. Feodor had taken his daughter'sface between his hands. He looked long at those eyes raised towardheaven, the mouth which had just uttered the word "Never, " then, slowly, his rude lips went to the tortured, quivering lips of the girl. He heldher close. She raised her head wildly, triumphantly, and cried, with armextended toward Matrena Petrovna:

"He believes me! He believes me! And you would have believed me also ifyou had been my real mother. "

Her head fell back and she dropped unconscious to the floor. Feodor fellto his knees, tending her, deploring her, motioning the others out ofthe room. 

"Go away! All of you, go! All! You, too, Matrena Petrovna. Go away!"

They disappeared, terrified by his savage gesture. 

In the little datcha across the river at Krestowsky there was a body. Secret Service agents guarded it while they waited for their chief. Michael Nikolaievitch had come there to die, and the police hadreached him just at his last breath. They were behind him as, with thedeath-rattle in his throat, he pulled himself into his chamber and fellin a heap. Katharina the Bohemian was there. She bent her quick-witted, puzzled head over his death agony. The police swarmed everywhere, ransacking, forcing locks, pulling drawers from the bureau and tables, emptying the cupboards. Their search took in everything, even to rippingthe mattresses, and not respecting the rooms of Boris Mourazoff, whowas away this night. They searched thoroughly, but they found absolutelynothing they were looking for in Michael's rooms. But they accumulated amultitude of publications that belonged to Boris: Western books, essayson political economy, a history of the French Revolution, and versesthat a man ought to hang for. They put them all under seal. During thesearch Michael died in Katharina's arms. She had held him close, afteropening his clothes over the chest, doubtless to make his last breathseasier. The unfortunate officer had received a bullet at the back ofthe head just after he had plunged into the Neva from the rear of theTrebassof datcha and started to swim across. It was a miracle that hehad managed to keep going. Doubtless he hoped to die in peace if onlyhe could reach his own house. He apparently had believed he could managethat once he had broken through his human bloodhounds. He did not knowhe was recognized and his place of retreat therefore known. 

Now the police had gone from cellar to garret. Koupriane came from theTrebassof villa and joined them, Rouletabille followed him. The reportercould not stand the sight of that body, that still had a lingeringwarmth, of the great open eyes that seemed to stare at him, reproachinghim for this violent death. He turned away in distaste, and perhaps alittle in fright. Koupriane caught the movement. 

"Regrets?" he queried. 

"Yes, " said Rouletabille. "A death always must be regretted. None theless, he was a criminal. But I'm sincerely sorry he died before he hadbeen driven to confess, even though we are sure of it. "

"Being in the pay of the Nihilists, you mean? That is still youropinion?" asked Koupriane. 

"Yes. "

"You know that nothing has been found here in his rooms. The onlycompromising papers that have been found belong to Boris Mourazoff. "

"Why do you say that?"

"Oh--nothing. "

Koupriane questioned his men further. They replied categorically. No, nothing had been found that directly incriminated anybody; and suddenlyRouletabille noted that the conversation of the police and their chiefhad grown more animated. Koupriane had become angry and was violentlyreproaching them. They excused themselves with vivid gesture and rapidspeech. 

Koupriane started away. Rouletabille followed him. What had happened?

As he came up behind Koupriane, he asked the question. In a few curtwords, still hurrying on, Koupriane told the reporter he had justlearned that the police had left the little Bohemian Katharina alone fora moment with the expiring officer. Katharina acted as housekeeper forMichael and Boris. She knew the secrets of them both. The first thingany novice should have known was to keep a constant eye upon her, andnow no one knew where she was. She must be searched for and found atonce, for she had opened Michael's shirt, and therein probably lay thereason that no papers were found on the corpse when the police searchedit. The absence of papers, of a portfolio, was not natural. 

The chase commenced in the rosy dawn of the isles. Already blood-liketints were on the horizon. Some of the police cried that they had thetrail. They ran under the trees, because it was almost certain she hadtaken the narrow path leading to the bridge that joins Krestowsky toKameny-Ostrow. Some indications discovered by the police who swarmed toright and left of the path confirmed this hypothesis. And no carriage insight! They all ran on, Koupriane among the first. Rouletabille kept athis heels, but he did not pass him. Suddenly there were cries and callsamong the police. One pointed out something below gliding upon thesloping descent. It was little Kathanna. She flew like the wind, butin a distracted course. She had reached Kameny-Ostrow on the west bank. "Oh, for a carriage, a horse!" clamored Koupriane, who had left histurn-out at Eliaguine. "The proof is there. It is the final proof ofeverything that is escaping us!"

Dawn was enough advanced now to show the ground clearly. Katharina waseasily discernible as she reached the Eliaguine bridge. There she wasin Eliaguine-Ostrow. What was she doing there? Was she going to theTrebassof villa? What would she have to say to them? No, she swervedto the right. The police raced behind her. She was still far ahead, andseemed untiring. Then she disappeared among the trees, in the thicket, keeping still to the right. Koupriane gave a cry of joy. Going that wayshe must be taken. He gave some breathless orders for the island to bebarred. She could not escape now! She could not escape! But where wasshe going? Koupriane knew that island better than anybody. He took ashort cut to reach the other side, toward which Katharina seemed to beheading, and all at once he nearly fell over the girl, who gave a squawkof surprise and rushed away, seeming all arms and legs. 

"Stop, or I fire!" cried Koupriane, and he drew his revolver. But a handgrabbed it from him. 

"Not that!" said Rouletabille, as he threw the revolver far from them. Koupriane swore at him and resumed the chase. His fury multiplied hisstrength, his agility; he almost reached Katharina, who was almost outof breath, but Rouletabille threw himself into the Chief's arms andthey rolled together upon the grass. When Koupriane rose, it was to seeKatharina mounting in mad haste the stairs that led to the Barque, thefloating restaurant of the Strielka. Cursing Rouletabille, but believinghis prey easily captured now, the Chief in his turn hurried to theBarque, into which Katharina had disappeared. He reached the bottom ofthe stairs. On the top step, about to descend from the festive place, the form of Prince Galltch appeared. Koupriane received the sight like ablow stopping him short in his ascent. Galitch had an exultant air whichKoupriane did not mistake. Evidently he had arrived too late. He feltthe certainty of it in profound discouragement. And this appearance ofthe prince on the Barque explained convincingly enough the reason forKatharina's flight here. 

If the Bohemian had filched the papers or the portfolio from the dead, it was the prince now who had them in his pocket. 

Koupriane, as he saw the prince about to pass him, trembled. The princesaluted him and ironically amused himself by inquiring:

"Well, well, how do you do, my dear Monsieur Koupriane. Your Excellencyhas risen in good time this morning, it seems to me. Or else it is I whostart for bed too late. "

"Prince, " said Koupriane, "my men are in pursuit of a little Bohemiannamed Katharina, well known in the restaurants where she sings. We haveseen her go into the Barque. Have you met her by any chance?"

"Good Lord, Monsieur Koupriane, I am not the concierge of the Barque, and I have not noticed anything at all, and nobody. Besides, I amnaturally a little sleepy. Pardon me. "

"Prince, it is not possible that you have not seen Katharina. "

"Oh, Monsieur the Prefect of Police, if I had seen her I would not tellyou about it, since you are pursuing her. Do you take me for one of yourbloodhounds? They say you have them in all classes, but I insist that Ihaven't enlisted yet. You have made a mistake, Monsieur Koupriane. "

The prince saluted again. But Koupriane still stood in his way. 

"Prince, consider that this matter is very serious. MichaelNikolaievitch, General Trebassof's orderly, is dead, and this littlegirl has stolen his papers from his body. All persons who have spokenwith Katharina will be under suspicion. This is an affair of State, monsieur, which may reach very far. Can you swear to me that you havenot seen, that you have not spoken to Katharina?"

The prince looked at Koupriane so insolently that the Prefect turnedpale with rage. Ah, if he were able--if he only dared!--but such men asthis were beyond him. Galitch walked past him without a word of answer, and ordered the schwitzar to call him a carriage. 

"Very well, " said Koupriane, "I will make my report to the Tsar. "

Galitch turned. He was as pale as Koupriane. 

"In that case, monsieur, " said he, "don't forget to add that I am HisMajesty's most humble servant. "

The carriage drew up. The prince stepped in. Koupriane watched him rollaway, raging at heart and with his fists doubled. Just then his men cameup. 

"Go. Search, " he said roughly, pointing into the Barque. 

They scattered through the establishment, entering all the rooms. Criesof irritation and of protest arose. Those lingering after the latest oflate suppers were not pleased at this invasion of the police. Everybodyhad to rise while the police looked under the tables, the benches, thelong table-cloths. They went into the pantries and down into the bold. No sign of Katharina. Suddenly Koupriane, who leaned against a nettingand looked vaguely out upon the horizon, waiting for the outcome of thesearch, got a start. Yonder, far away on the other side of the river, between a little wood and the Staria Derevnia, a light boat drew to theshore, and a little black spot jumped from it like a flea. Kouprianerecognized the little black spot as Kathanna. She was safe. Now he couldnot reach her. It would be useless to search the maze of the Bohemianquarter, where her country-people lived in full control, with customsand privileges that had never been infringed. The entire Bohemianpopulation of the capital would have risen against him. It was PrinceGalitch who had made him fail. One of his men came to him:

"No luck, " said he. "We have not found Katharina, but she has been herenevertheless. She met Prince Galitch for just a minute, and gave himsomething, then went over the other side into a canoe. "

"Very well, " and the Prefect shrugged his shoulders. "I was sure of it. "

He felt more and more, exasperated. He went down along the river edgeand the first person he saw was Rouletabille, who waited for him withoutany impatience, seated philosophically on a bench. 

"I was looking for you, " cried the Prefect. "We have failed. By yourfault! If you had not thrown yourself into my arms--"

"I did it on purpose, " declared the reporter. 

"What! What is that you say? You did it on purpose?"

Koupriane choked with rage. 

"Your Excellency, " said Rouletabille, taking him by the arm, "calmyourself. They are watching us. Come along and have a cup of tea atCubat's place. Easy now, as though we were out for a walk. "

"Will you explain to me?"

"No, no, Your Excellency. Remember that I have promised you GeneralTrebassof's life in exchange for your prisoner's. Very well; by throwingmyself in your arms and keeping you from reaching Katharina, I saved thegeneral's life. It is very simple. "

"Are you laughing at me? Do you think you can mock me?"

But the prefect saw quickly that Rouletabille was not fooling and had nomockery in his manner. 

"Monsieur, " he insisted, "since you speak seriously, I certainly wish tounderstand--"

"It is useless, " said Rouletabille. "It is very necessary that youshould not understand. "

"But at least. .. "

"No, no, I can't tell you anything. "

"When, then, will you tell me something to explain your unbelievableconduct?"

Rouletabille stopped in his tracks and declared solemnly:

"Monsieur Koupriane, recall what Natacha Feodorovna as she raised herlovely eyes to heaven, replied to her father, when he, also, wished tounderstand: 'Never. '"

XI. THE POISON CONTINUES

At ten o'clock that morning Rouletabille went to the Trebassof villa, which had its guard of secret agents again, a double guard, becauseKoupriane was sure the Nihilists would not delay in avenging Michael'sdeath. Rouletabille was met by Ermolai, who would not allow him toenter. The faithful servant uttered some explanation in Russian, whichthe young man did not understand, or, rather, Rouletabille understoodperfectly from his manner that henceforth the door of the villa wasclosed to him. In vain he insisted on seeing the general, MatrenaPetrovna and Mademoiselle Natacha. Ermolai made no reply but "Niet, niet, niet. " The reporter turned away without having seen anyone, andwalked away deeply depressed. He went afoot clear into the city, a longpromenade, during which his brain surged with the darkest forebodings. As he passed by the Department of Police he resolved to see Kouprianeagain. He went in, gave his name, and was ushered at once to the Chiefof Police, whom he found bent over a long report that he was readingthrough with noticeable agitation. 

"Gounsovski has sent me this, " he said in a rough voice, pointing to thereport. "Gounsovski, 'to do me a service, ' desires me to know that he isfully aware of all that happened at the Trebassof datcha last night. Hewarns me that the revolutionaries have decided to get through with thegeneral at once, and that two of them have been given the mission toenter the datcha in any way possible. They will have bombs upon theirbodies and will blow the bombs and themselves up together as soon asthey are beside the general. Who are the two victims designated for thishorrible vengeance, and who have light-heartedly accepted such a deathfor themselves as well as for the general? That is what we don't know. That is what we would have known, perhaps, if you had not preventedme from seizing the papers that Prince Galitch has now, " Kouprianefinished, turning hostilely toward Rouletabille. 

Rouletabille had turned pale. 

"Don't regret what happened to the papers, " he said. "It is I who tellyou not to. But what you say doesn't surprise me. They must believe thatNatacha has betrayed them. "

"Ah, then you admit at last that she really is their accomplice?"

"I haven't said that and I don't admit it. But I know what I mean, andyou, you can't. Only, know this one thing, that at the present momentI am the only person able to save you in this horrible situation. To dothat I must see Natacha at once. Make her understand this, while I waitat my hotel for word. I'll not leave it. "

Rouletabille saluted Koupriane and went out. 

Two days passed, during which Rouletabille did not receive any word fromeither Natacha or Koupriane, and tried in vain to see them. He made atrip for a few hours to Finland, going as far as Pergalovo, an isolatedtown said to be frequented by the revolutionaries, then returned, muchdisturbed, to his hotel, after having written a last letter to Natachaimploring an interview. The minutes passed very slowly for him in thehotel's vestibule, where he had seemed to have taken up a definiteresidence. 

Installed on a bench, he seemed to have become part of the hotel staff, and more than one traveler took him for an interpreter. Others thoughthe was an agent of the Secret Police appointed to study the faces ofthose arriving and departing. What was he waiting for, then? Was itfor Annouchka to return for a luncheon or dinner in that place thatshe sometimes frequented? And did he at the same time keep watch uponAnnouchka's apartments just across the way? If that was so, he couldonly bewail his luck, for Annouchka did not appear either at herapartments or the hotel, or at the Krestowsky establishment, whichhad been obliged to suppress her performance. Rouletabille naturallythought, in the latter connection, that some vengeance by Gounsovski layback of this, since the head of the Secret Service could hardly forgetthe way he had been treated. The reporter could see already the poorsinger, in spite of all her safeguards and the favor of the Imperialfamily, on the road to the Siberian steppes or the dungeons ofSchlusselbourg. 

"My, what a country!" he murmured. 

But his thoughts soon quit Annouchka and returned to the object of hismain preoccupation. He waited for only one thing, and for that as soonas possible--to have a private interview with Natacha. He had writtenher ten letters in two days, but they all remained unanswered. It was ananswer that he waited for so patiently in the vestibule of the hotel--sopatiently, but so nervously, so feverishly. 

When the postman entered, poor Rouletabille's heart beat rapidly. Onthat answer he waited for depended the formidable part he meant to playbefore quitting Russia. He had accomplished nothing up to now, unless hecould play his part in this later development. 

But the letter did not come. The postman left, and the schwitzar, afterexamining all the mail, made him a negative sign. Ah, the servants whoentered, and the errand-boys, how he looked at them! But they never camefor him. Finally, at six o'clock in the evening of the second day, a manin a frock-coat, with a false astrakhan collar, came in and handed theconcierge a letter for Joseph Rouletabille. The reporter jumped up. Before the man was out the door he had torn open the letter and read it. The letter was not from Natacha. It was from Gounsovski. This is what itsaid:

"My dear Monsieur Joseph Rouletabille, if it will not inconvenienceyou, I wish you would come and dine with me to-day. I will look foryou within two hours. Madame Gounsovski will be pleased to make youracquaintance. Believe me your devoted Gounsovski. "

Rouletabille considered, and decided:

"I will go. He ought to have wind of what is being plotted, and as forme, I don't know where Annouchka has gone. I have more to learn fromhim than he has from me. Besides, as Athanase Georgevitch said, one mayregret not accepting the Head of the Okrana's pleasant invitation. "

From six o'clock to seven he still waited vainly for Natacha's response. At seven o'clock, he decided to dress for the dinner. Just as he rose, a messenger arrived. There was still another letter for JosephRouletabille. This time it was from Natacha, who wrote him:

"General Trebassof and my step-mother will be very happy to have youcome to dinner to-day. As for myself, monsieur, you will pardon me theorder which has closed to you for a number of days a dwelling where youhave rendered services which I shall not forget all my life. "

The letter ended with a vague polite formula. With the letter in hishand the reporter sat in thought. He seemed to be asking himself, "Is itfish or flesh?" Was it a letter of thanks or of menace? That was what hecould not decide. Well, he would soon know, for he had decided toaccept that invitation. Anything that brought him and Natacha intocommunication at the moment was a thing of capital importance to him. Half-an-hour later he gave the address of the villa to an isvotchick, and soon he stepped out before the gate where Ermolai seemed to bewaiting for him. 

Rouletabille was so occupied by thought of the conversation he was goingto have with Natacha that he had completely forgotten the excellentMonsieur Gounsovski and his invitation. 

The reporter found Koupriane's agents making a close-linked chain aroundthe grounds and each watching the other. Matrena had not wished anyagent to be in house. He showed Koupriane's pass and entered. 

Ermolai ushered Rouletabille in with shining face. He seemed gladto have him there again. He bowed low before him and uttered manycompliments, of which the reporter did not understand a word. Rouletablle passed on, entered the garden and saw Matrena Petrovna therewalking with her step-daughter. They seemed on the best of terms witheach other. The grounds wore an air of tranquillity and the residentsseemed to have totally forgotten the somber tragedy of the other night. Matrena and Natacha came smilingly up to the young man, who inquiredafter the general. They both turned and pointed out Feodor Feodorovitch, who waved to him from the height of the kiosk, where it seemed the tablehad been spread. They were going to dine out of doors this fine night. 

"Everything goes very well, very well indeed, dear little domovoi, " saidMatrena. "How glad it is to see you and thank you. If you only knew howI suffered in your absence, I who know how unjust my daughter was toyou. But dear Natacha knows now what she owes you. She doesn't doubtyour word now, nor your clear intelligence, little angel. MichaelNikolaievitch was a monster and he was punished as he deserved. You knowthe police have proof now that he was one of the Central RevolutionaryCommittee's most dangerous agents. And he an officer! Whom can we trustnow!"

"And Monsieur Boris Mourazoff, have you seen him since?" inquiredRouletabille. 

"Boris called to see us to-day, to say good-by, but we did not receivehim, under the orders of the police. Natacha has written to tell him ofKoupriane's orders. We have received letters from him; he is quittingSt. Petersburg. 

"What for?"

"Well, after the frightful bloody scene in his little house, when helearned how Michael Nikolaievitch had found his death, and after hehimself had undergone a severe grilling from the police, and when helearned the police had sacked his library and gone through his papers, he resigned, and has resolved to live from now on out in the country, without seeing anyone, like the philosopher and poet he is. So far as Iam concerned, I think he is doing absolutely right. When a young man isa poet, it is useless to live like a soldier. Someone has said that, I don't know the name now, and when one has ideas that may upset otherpeople, surely they ought to live in solitude. "

Rouletabille looked at Natacha, who was as pale as her white gown, andwho added no word to her mother's outburst. They had drawn near thekiosk. Rouletabille saluted the general, who called to him to come upand, when the young man extended his hand, he drew him abruptly nearerand embraced him. To show Rouletabille how active he was getting again, Feodor Feodorovitch marched up and down the kiosk with only the aid of astick. He went and came with a sort of wild, furious gayety. 

"They haven't got me yet, the dogs. They haven't got me! And one (he wasthinking of Michael) who saw me every day was here just for that. Verywell. I ask you where he is now. And yet here I am! An attack! I'malways here! But with a good eye; and I begin to have a good leg. Weshall see. Why, I recollect how, when I was at Tiflis, there was aninsurrection in the Caucasus. We fought. Several times I could feel theswish of bullets past my hair. My comrades fell around me like flies. But nothing happened to me, not a thing. And here now! They will not getme, they will not get me. You know how they plan now to come to me, asliving bombs. Yes, they have decided on that. I can't press a friend'shand any more without the fear of seeing him explode. What do you thinkof that? But they won't get me. Come, drink my health. A small glassof vodka for an appetizer. You see, young man, we are going to havezakouskis here. What a marvelous panorama! You can see everything fromhere. If the enemy comes, " he added with a singular loud laugh, "wecan't fail to detect him. "

Certainly the kiosk did rise high above the garden and was completelydetached, no wall being near. They had a clear view. No branches oftrees hung over the roof and no tree hid the view. The rustic table ofrough wood was covered with a short cloth and was spread with zakouskis. It was a meal under the open sky, a seat and a glass in the clear azure. The evening could not have been softer and clearer. And, as the generalfelt so gay, the repast would have promised to be most agreeable, ifRouletabille had not noticed that Matrena Petrovna and Natacha wereuneasy and downcast. The reporter soon saw, too, that all the general'sjoviality was a little excessive. Anyone would have said that FeodorFeodorovitch spoke to distract himself, to keep himself from thinking. There was sufficient excuse for him after the outrageous drama of theother night. Rouletabille noticed further that the general never lookedat his daughter, even when he spoke to her. There was too formidablea mystery lying between them for restraint not to increase day by day. Rouletabille involuntarily shook his head, saddened by all he saw. Hismovement was surprised by Matrena Petrovna, who pressed his hand insilence. 

"Well, now, " said the general, "well, now my children, where is thevodka?"

Among all the bottles which graced the table the general looked in vainfor his flask of vodka. How in the world could he dine if he did notprepare for that important act by the rapid absorption of two orthree little glasses of white wine, between two or three sandwiches ofcaviare!

"Ermolai must have left it in the wine-chest, " said Matrena. 

The wine-closet was in the dining-room. She rose to go there, butNatacha hurried before her down the little flight of steps, crying, "Stay there, mamma. I will go. "

"Don't you bother, either. I know where it is, " cried Rouletabille, andhurried after Natacha. 

She did not stop. The two young people arrived in the dining-room atthe same time. They were there alone, as Rouletabille had foreseen. Hestopped Natacha and planted himself in front of her. 

"Why, mademoiselle, did you not answer me earlier?"

"Because I don't wish to have any conversation with you. "

"If that was so, you would not have come here, where you were sure Iwould follow. "

She hesitated, with an emotion that would have been incomprehensible toall others perhaps, but was not to Rouletabille. 

"Well, yes, I wished to say this to you: Don't write to me any more. Don't speak to me. Don't see me. Go away from here, monsieur; go away. They will have your life. And if you have found out anything, forget it. Ah, on the head of your mother, forget it, or you are lost. That is whatI wished to tell you. And now, you go. "

She grasped his hand in a quick sympathetic movement that she seemedinstantly to regret. 

"You go away, " she repeated. 

Rouletabille still held his place before her. She turned from him; shedid not wish to hear anything further. 

"Mademoiselle, " said he, "you are watched closer than ever. Who willtake Michael Nikolaievitch's place?"

"Madman, be silent! Hush!"

"I am here. "

He said this with such simple bravery that tears sprang to her eyes. 

"Dear man! Poor man! Dear brave man!" She did not know what to say. Heremotion checked all utterance. But it was necessary for her to enablehim to understand that there was nothing he could do to help her in hersad straits. 

"No. If they knew what you have just said, what you have proposed now, you would be dead to-morrow. Don't let them suspect. And above all, don't try to see me anywhere. Go back to papa at once. We have been heretoo long. What if they learn of it?--and they learn everything! They areeverywhere, and have ears everywhere. "

"Mademoiselle, just one word more, a single word. Do you doubt now thatMichael tried to poison your father?"

"Ah, I wish to believe it. I wish to. I wish to believe it for yoursake, my poor boy. "

Rouletabille desired something besides "I wish to believe it for yoursake, my poor boy. " He was far from being satisfied. She saw him turnpale. She tried to reassure him while her trembling hands raised the lidof the wine-chest. 

"What makes me think you are right is that I have decided myself thatonly one and the same person, as you said, climbed to the window of thelittle balcony. Yes, no one can doubt that, and you have reasoned well. "

But he persisted still. 

"And yet, in spite of that, you are not entirely sure, since you say, 'Iwish to believe it, my poor boy. '"

"Monsieur Rouletabille, someone might have tried to poison my father, and not have come by way of the window. "

"No, that is impossible. "

"Nothing is impossible to them. "

And she turned her head away again. 

"Why, why, " she said, with her voice entirely changed and quiteindifferent, as if she wished to be merely 'the daughter of the house'in conversation with the young man, "the vodka is not in the wine chest, after all. What has Ermolai done with it, then?"

She ran over to the buffet and found the flask. 

"Oh, here it is. Papa shan't be without it, after all. "

Rouletabille was already into the garden again. 

"If that is the only doubt she has, " he said to himself, "I can reassureher. No one could come, excepting by the window. And only one came thatway. "

The young girl had rejoined him, bringing the flask. They crossed thegarden together to the general, who was whiling away the time as hewaited for his vodka explaining to Matrena Petrovna the nature of "theconstitution. " He had spilt a box of matches on the table and arrangedthem carefully. 

"Here, " he cried to Natacha and Rouletabille. "Come here and I willexplain to you as well what this Constitution amounts to. "

The young people leaned over his demonstration curiously and all eyes inthe kiosk were intent on the matches. 

"You see that match, " said Feodor Feodorovitch. "It is the Emperor. Andthis other match is the Empress; this one is the Tsarevitch; and thatone is the Grand-duke Alexander; and these are the other granddukes. Now, here are the ministers and there the principal governors, and thenthe generals; these here are the bishops. "

The whole box of matches was used up, and each match was in its place, as is the way in an empire where proper etiquette prevails in governmentand the social order. 

"Well, " continued the general, "do you want to know, Matrena Petrovna, what a constitution is? There! That is the Constitution. "

The general, with a swoop of his hand, mixed all the matches. Rouletabille laughed, but the good Matrena said:

"I don't understand, Feodor. "

"Find the Emperor now. "

Then Matrena understood. She laughed heartily, she laughed violently, and Natacha laughed also. Delighted with his success, FeodorFeodorovitch took up one of the little glasses that Natacha had filledwith the vodka she brought. 

"Listen, my children, " said he. "We are going to commence the zakouskis. Koupriane ought to have been here before this. "

Saying this, holding still the little glass in his hand, he felt in hispocket with the other for his watch, and drew out a magnificent largewatch whose ticking was easily heard. 

"Ah, the watch has come back from the repairer, " Rouletabille remarkedsmilingly to Matrena Petrovna. "It looks like a splendid one. "

"It has very fine works, " said the general. "It was bequeathed to me bymy grandfather. It marks the seconds, and the phases of the moon, andsounds the hours and half-hours. "

Rouletabille bent over the watch, admiring it. 

"You expect M. Koupriane for dinner?" inquired the young man, stillexamining the watch. 

"Yes, but since he is so late, we'll not delay any longer. Your healths, my children, " said the general as Rouletabille handed him back the watchand he put it in his pocket. 

"Your health, Feodor Feodorovitch, " replied Matrena Petrovna, with herusual tenderness. 

Rouletabille and Natacha only touched their lips to the vodka, butFeodor Feodorovitch and Matrena drank theirs in the Russian fashion, head back and all at a draught, draining it to the bottom and flingingthe contents to the back of the throat. They had no more than performedthis gesture when the general uttered an oath and tried to expel what hehad drained so heartily. Matrena Petrovna spat violently also, lookingwith horror at her husband. 

"What is it? What has someone put in the vodka?" cried Feodor. 

"What has someone put in the vodka?" repeated Matrena Petrovna in athick voice, her eyes almost starting from her head. 

The two young people threw themselves upon the unfortunates. Feodor'sface had an expression of atrocious suffering. 

"We are poisoned, " cried the general, in the midst of his chokings. "Iam burning inside. "

Almost mad, Natacha took her father's head in her hands. She cried tohim:

"Vomit, papa; vomit!"

"We must find an emetic, " cried Rauletabille, holding on to the general, who had almost slipped from his arms. 

Matrena Petrovna, whose gagging noises were violent, hurried down thesteps of the kiosk, crossed the garden as though wild-fire werebehind her, and bounded into the veranda. During this time the generalsucceeded in easing himself, thanks to Rouletabille, who had thrust aspoon to the root of his tongue. Natacha could do nothing but cry, "MyGod, my God, my God!" Feodor held onto his stomach, still crying, "I'mburning, I'm burning!" The scene was frightfully tragic and funny at thesame time. To add to the burlesque, the general's watch in his pocketstruck eight o'clock. Feodor Feodorovitch stood up in a final supremeeffort. "Oh, it is horrible!" Matrena Petrovna showed a red, almostviolet face as she came back; she distorted it, she choked, her mouthtwitched, but she brought something, a little packet that she waved, andfrom which, trembling frightenedly, she shook a powder into the firsttwo empty glasses, which were on her side of the table and were thoseshe and the general had drained. She still had strength to fill themwith water, while Rouletabille was almost overcome by the general, whomhe still had in his arms, and Natacha concerned herself with nothingbut her father, leaning over him as though to follow the progress ofthe terrible poison, to read in his eyes if it was to be life or death. "Ipecac, " cried Matrena Petrovna, and she made the general drink it. She did not drink until after him. The heroic woman must have exertedsuperhuman force to go herself to find the saving antidote in hermedicine-chest, even while the agony pervaded her vitals. 

Some minutes later both could be considered saved. The servants, Ermolaiat their head, were clustered about. Most of them had been at the lodgeand they had not, it appeared, heard the beginning of the affair, thecries of Natacha and Rouletabille. Koupriane arrived just then. It washe who worked with Natacha in getting the two to bed. Then he directedone of his agents to go for the nearest doctors they could find. 

This done, the Prefect of Police went toward the kiosk where he had leftRouletabille. But Rouletabille was not to be found, and the flask ofvodka and the glasses from which they had drunk were gone also. Ermolaiwas near-by, and he inquired of the servant for the young Frenchman. Ermolai replied that he had just gone away, carrying the flask and theglasses. Koupriane swore. He shook Ermolai and even started to give hima blow with the fist for permitting such a thing to happen before hiseyes without making a protest. 

Ermolai, who had his own haughtiness, dodged Koupriane's fist andreplied that he had wished to prevent the young Frenchman, but thereporter had shown him a police-paper on which Koupriane himself haddeclared in advance that the young Frenchman was to do anything hepleased. 

XII. PERE ALEXIS

Koupriane jumped into his carriage and hurried toward St. Petersburg. On the way he spoke to three agents who only he knew were posted inthe neighborhood of Eliaguine. They told him the route Rouletabille hadtaken. The reporter had certainly returned into the city. He hurriedtoward Troitski Bridge. There, at the corner of the Naberjnaia, Koupriane saw the reporter in a hired conveyance. Rouletabille waspounding his coachman in the back, Russian fashion, to make him gofaster, and was calling with all his strength one of the few words hehad had time to learn, "Naleva, naleva" (to the left). The driver wasforced to understand at last, for there was no other way to turn than tothe left. If he had turned to the right (naprava) he would have driveninto the river. The conveyance clattered over the pointed flints of aneighborhood that led to a little street, Aptiekarski-Pereoulok, atthe corner of the Katharine canal. This "alley of the pharmacists" as amatter of fact contained no pharmacists, but there was a curious signof a herbarium, where Rouletabille made the driver stop. As the carriagerolled under the arch Rouletabille recognized Koupriane. He did notwait, but cried to him, "Ah, here you are. All right; follow me. " Hestill had the flask and the glasses in his hands. Koupriane couldn'thelp noticing how strange he looked. He passed through a court with him, and into a squalid shop. 

"What, " said Koupriane, "do you know Pere Alexis?"

They were in the midst of a curious litter. Clusters of dried herbs hungfrom the ceiling, and all among them were clumps of old boots, shriveledskins, battered pans, scrap-iron, sheep-skins, useless touloupes, and onthe floor musty old clothes, moth-eaten furs, and sheep-skin coats thateven a moujik of the swamps would not have deigned to wear. Here andthere were old teeth, ragged finery, dilapidated hats, and jars ofstrange herbs ranged upon some rickety shelving. Between the set ofscales on the counter and a heap of little blocks of wood used forfiguring the accounts of this singular business were ungilded ikons, oxidized silver crosses, and Byzantine pictures representing scenes fromthe Old and New Testaments. Jars of alcohol with what seemed to be theskeletons of frogs swimming in them filled what space was left. In acorner of this large, murky room, under the vault of mossed stone, asmall altar stood and the light burned in a hanging glass of oil beforethe holy images. A man was praying before the altar. He wore the costumeof old Russia, the caftan of green cloth, buttoned at the shoulder andtucked in at the waist by a narrow belt. He had a bushy beard and hishair fell to his shoulders. When he had finished his prayer he rose, perceived Rouletabille and came over to take his hand. He spoke Frenchto the reporter:

"Well, here you are again, lad. Do you bring poison again to-day? Thiswill end by being found out, and the police. .. "

Just then he discerned Koupriane's form in the shadow, drew closeto make out who it was, and fell to his knees as he saw who it was. Rouletabille tried to raise him, but he insisted on prostrating himself. He was sure the Prefect of Police had come to his house to hang him. Finally he was reassured by Rouletabile's positive assertions and thegreat chief's robust laugh. The Prefect wished to know how the young mancame to be acquainted with the "alchemist" of the police. Rouletabilletold him in a few words. 

Maitre Alexis, in his youth, went to France afoot, to study pharmacy, because of his enthusiasm for chemistry. But he always remainedcountrified, very much a Russian peasant, a semi-Oriental bear, and didnot achieve his degree. He took some certificates, but the examinationswere too much for him. For fifty years he lived miserably as apharmacist's assistant in the back of a disreputable shop in the NotreDame quarter. The proprietor of the place was implicated in the famousaffair of the gold ingots, which started Rouletabille's reputation, andwas arrested along with his assistant, Alexis. It was Rouletabille whoproved, clear as day, that poor Alexis was innocent, and that he hadnever been cognizant of his master's evil ways, being absorbed in thedepths of his laboratory in trying to work out a naive alchemy whichfascinated him, though the world of chemistry had passed it by centuriesago. At the trial Alexis was acquitted, but found himself in the street. He shed what tears remained in his body upon the neck of the reporter, assuring him of paradise if he got him back to his own country, becausehe desired only the one thing more of life, that he might see hisbirth-land before he died. Rouletabille advanced the necessary meansand sent him to St. Petersburg. There he was picked up at the end of twodays by the police, in a petty gambling-game, and thrown into prison, where he promptly had a chance to show his talents. He cured some of hiscompanions in misery, and even some of the guards. A guard who had aninjured leg, whose healing he had despaired of, was cured by Alexis. Then there was found to be no actual charge against him. They set himfree and, moreover, they interested themselves in him. They found meageremployment for him in the Stchoukine-dvor, an immense popular bazaar. He accumulated a few roubles and installed himself on his own accountat the back of a court in the Aptiekarski-Pereoulok, where he graduallypiled up a heap of old odds and ends that no one wanted even in theStchoukine-dvor. But he was happy, because behind his shop he hadinstalled a little laboratory where he continued for his pleasure hisexperiments in alchemy and his study of plants. He still proposed towrite a book that he had already spoken of in France to Rouletabille, toprove the truth of "Empiric Treatment of Medicinal Herbs, the Scienceof Alchemy, and the Ancient Experiments in Sorcery. " Between timeshe continued to cure anyone who applied to him, and the police inparticular. The police guards protected him and used him. He hadsplendid plasters for them after "the scandal, " as they called theOctober riots. So when the doctors of the quarter tried to prosecute himfor illegal practice, a deputation of police-guards went to Koupriane, who took the responsibility and discontinued proceedings against him. They regarded him as under protection of the saints, and Alexis sooncame to be regarded himself as something of a holy man. He never failedevery Christmas and Easter to send his finest images to Rouletabille, wishing him all prosperity and saying that if ever he came to St. Petersburg he should be happy to receive him at Aptiekarski-Pereoulok, where he was established in honest labor. Pere Alexis, like all the truesaints, was a modest man. 

When Alexis had recovered a little from his emotion Rouletabille said tohim:

"Pere Alexis, I do bring you poison again, but you have nothing to fear, for His Excellency the Chief of Police is with me. Here is what we wantyou to do. You must tell us what poison these four glasses have held, and what poison is still in this flask and this little phial. "

"What is that little phial?" demanded Koupriane, as he saw Rouletabillepull a small, stoppered bottle out of his pocket. 

The reporter replied, "I have put into this bottle the vodka that waspoured into Natacha's glass and mine and that we barely touched. "

"Someone has tried to poison you!" exclaimed Pere Alexis. 

"No, not me, " replied Rouletabille, in bored fashion. "Don't think aboutthat. Simply do what I tell you. Then analyze these two napkins, aswell. "

And he drew from his coat two soiled napkins. 

"Well, " said Koupriane, "you have thought of everything. "

"They are the napkins the general and his wife used. "

"Yes, yes, I understand that, " said the Chief of Police. 

"And you, Alexis, do you understand?" asked the reporter. "When can wehave the result of your analysis?

"In an hour, at the latest. "

"Very well, " said Koupriane. "Now I need not tell you to hold yourtongue. I am going to leave one of my men here. You will write us anote that you will seal, and he will bring it to head-quarters. Sure youunderstand? In an hour?"

"In an hour, Excellency. "

They went out, and Alexis followed them, bowing to the floor. Kouprianehad Rouletabille get into his carriage. The young man did as he wastold. One would have said he did not know where he was or what he did. He made no reply to the chief's questions. 

"This Pere Alexander, " resumed Koupriane, "is a character, really quitea figure. And a bit of a schemer, I should say. He has seen how FatherJohn of Cronstadt succeeded, and he says to himself, 'Since the sailorshad their Father John of Cronstadt, why shouldn't the police-guard havetheir Father Alexis of Aptiekarski-Pereoulok?'"

But Rouletabille did not reply at all, and Koupriane wound up bydemanding what was the matter with him. 

"The matter is, " replied Rouletabille, unable longer to conceal hisanguish, "that the poison continues. "

"Does that astonish you?" returned Koupriane. "It doesn't me. "

Rouletabille looked at him and shook his head. His lips trembled as hesaid, "I know what you think. It is abominable. But the thing I havedone certainly is more abominable still. "

"What have you done, then, Monsieur Rouletabille?"

"Perhaps I have caused the death of an innocent man. "

"So long as you aren't sure of it, you would better not fret about it, my dear friend. "

"It is enough that the doubt has arisen, " said the reporter, "almostto kill me;" and he heaved so gloomy a sigh that the excellent MonsieurKoupriane felt pity for the lad. He tapped him on the knee. 

"Come, come, young man, you ought to know one thing by this time--'youcan't make omelettes without breaking eggs, ' as they say, I think, inParis. "

Rouletabille turned away from him with horror in his heart. If thereshould be another, someone besides Michael! If it was another hand thanhis that appeared to Matrena and him in the mysterious night! If MichaelNikolaievitch had been innocent! Well, he would kill himself, that wasall. And those horrible words that he had exchanged with Natacha rose inhis memory, singing in his ears as though they would deafen him. 

"Do you doubt still?" he had asked her, "that Michael tried to poisonyour father?"

And Natacha had replied, "I wish to believe it! I wish to believe it, for your sake, my poor boy. " And then he recalled her other words, stillmore frightful now! "Couldn't someone have tried to poison my fatherand not have come by the window?" He had faced such a hypothesis withassurance then--but now, now that the poison continued, continued withinthe house, where he believed himself so fully aware of all people andthings--continued now that Michael Nikolaievitch was dead--ah, where didit come from, this poison?--and what was it? Pere Alexis would hurry hisanalysis if he had any regard for poor Rouletabille. 

For Rouletabille to doubt, and in an affair where already there was oneman dead through his agency, was torment worse than death. 

When they arrived at police-headquarters, Rouletabille jumped fromKoupriane's carriage and without saying a word hailed an emptyisvotchick that was passing. He had himself driven back to Pere Alexis. His doubt mastered his will; he could not bear to wait away. Under thearch of Aptiekarski-Pereoulok he saw once more the man Koupriane hadplaced there with the order to bring him Alexis's message. The manlooked at him in astonishment. Rouletabille crossed the court andentered the dingy old room once more. Pere Alexis was not there, naturally, engaged as he was in his laboratory. But a person whom he didnot recognize at first sight attracted the reporter's attention. In thehalf-light of the shop a melancholy shadow leaned over the ikons on thecounter. It was only when he straightened up, with a deep sigh, and alittle light, deflected and yellow from passing through window-panesthat had known no touch of cleaning since they were placed there, fellfaintly on the face, that Rouletabille ascertained he was face to facewith Boris Mourazoff. It was indeed he, the erstwhile brilliant officerwhose elegance and charm the reporter had admired as he saw him atbeautiful Natacha's feet in the datcha at Eliaguine. Now, no more inuniform, he had thrown over his bowed shoulders a wretched coat, whosesleeves swayed listlessly at his sides, in accord with his mood oflanguid desperation, a felt hat with the rim turned down hid a littlethe misery in his face in these few days, these not-many hours, how hewas changed! But, even as he was, he still concerned Rouletabille. Whatwas he doing there? Was he not going to go away, perhaps? He had pickedup an ikon from the counter and carried it over to the window to examineits oxidized silver, giving such close attention to it that the reporterhoped he might reach the door of the laboratory without being noticed. He already had his hand on the knob of that door, which was behind thecounter, when he heard his name called. 

"It is you, Monsieur Rouletabille, " said the low, sad voice of Boris. "What has brought you here, then?"

"Well, well, Monsieur Boris Mourazoff, unless I'm mistaken? I certainlydidn't expect to find you here in Pere Alexis's place. "

"Why not, Monsieur Rouletabille? One can find anything here in PereAlexis's stock. See; here are two old ikons in wood, carved withsculptures, which came direct from Athos, and can't be equaled, I assureyou, either at Gastini-Dvor nor even at Stchoukine-Dvor. "

"Yes, yes, that is possible, " said Rouletabille, impatiently. "Are youan amateur of such things?" he added, in order to say something. 

"Oh, like anybody else. But I was going to tell you, MonsieurRouletabille, I have resigned my commission. I have resolved to retirefrom the world; I am going on a long voyage. " (Rouletabille thought:'Why not have gone at once?') "And before going, I have come here tosupply myself with some little gifts to send those of my friends Iparticularly care for, although now, my dear Monsieur Rouletabille, Idon't care much for anything. "

"You look desolate enough, monsieur. "

Boris sighed like a child. 

"How could it be otherwise?" he said. "I loved and believed myselfbeloved. But it proved to be--nothing, alas!"

"Sometimes one only imagines things, " said Rouletabille, keeping hishand on the door. 

"Oh, yes, " said the other, growing more and more melancholy. "So a mansuffers. He is his own tormentor; he himself makes the wheel on which, like his own executioner, he binds himself. "

"It is not necessary, monsieur; it is not necessary, " counseled thereporter. 

"Listen, " implored Boris in a voice that showed tears were not far away. "You are still a child, but still you can see things. Do you believeNatacha loves me?"

"I am sure of it, Monsieur Boris; I am sure of it. "

"I am sure of it, too. But I don't know what to think now. She has letme go, without trying to detain me, without a word of hope. "

"And where are you going like that?"

"I am returning to the Orel country, where I first saw her. "

"That is good, very good, Monsieur Boris. At least there you are sureto see her again. She goes there every year with her parents for a fewweeks. It is a detail you haven't overlooked, doubtless. "

"Certainly I haven't. I will tell you that that prospect decided myplace of retreat. "

"See!"

"God gives me nothing, but He opens His treasures, and each takes whathe can. "

"Yes, yes; and Mademoiselle Natacha, does she know it is to Orel youhave decided to retire?"

"I have no reason for concealing it from her, Monsieur Rouletabille. "

"So far so good. You needn't feel so desolate, my dear Monsieur Boris. All is not lost. I will say even that I see a future for you full ofhope. "

"Ah, if you are able to say that truthfully, I am happy indeed to havemet you. I will never forget this rope you have flung me when all thewaters seemed closing over my head. 'What do you advise, then?"

"I advise you to go to Orel, monsieur, and as quickly as possible. "

"Very well. You must have reasons for saying that. I obey you, monsieur, and go. "

As Boris started towards the entrance-arch, Rouletabille slipped intothe laboratory. Old Alexis was bent over his retorts. A wretched lampbarely lighted his obscure work. He turned at the noise the reportermade. 

"Ah!-you, lad!"

"'Well?"

"Oh, nothing so quick. Still, I have already analyzed the two napkins, you know. "

"Yes? The stains? Tell me, for the love of God!"

"Well, my boy, it is arsenate of soda again. "

Rouletabille, stricken to the heart, uttered a low cry and everythingseemed to dance around him. Pere Alexis in the midst of all the strangelaboratory instruments seemed Satan himself, and he repulsed the kindlyarms stretched forth to sustain him; in the gloom, where danced here andthere the little blue flames from the crucibles, lively as flickeringtongues, he believed he saw Michael Nikolaievitch's ghost come to cry, "The arsenate of soda continues, and I am dead. " He fell against thedoor, which swung open, and he rolled as far as the counter, and struckhis face against it. The shock, that might well have been fatal, broughthim out of his intense nightmare and made him instantly himself again. He rose, jumped over the heap of boots and fol-de-rols, and leaped tothe court. There Boris grabbed him by his coat. Rouletabille turned, furious:

"What do you want? You haven't started for the Orel yet?"

"Monsieur, I am going, but I will be very grateful if you will takethese things yourself to--to Natacha. " He showed him, still withdespairing mien, the two ikons from Mount Athos, and Rouletabille tookthem from him, thrust them in his pocket, and hurried on, crying, "Iunderstand. "

Outside, Rouletabille tried to get hold of himself, to recover hiscoolness a little. Was it possible that he had made a mortal error?Alas, alas, how could he doubt it now! The arsenate of soda continued. He made, a superhuman effort to ward off the horror of that, evenmomentarily--the death of innocent Michael Nikolaievitch--and to thinkof nothing except the immediate consequences, which must be carefullyconsidered if he wished to avoid some new catastrophe. Ah, the assassinwas not discouraged. And that time, what a piece of work he had tried!What a hecatomb if he had succeeded! The general, Matrena Petrovna, Natacha and Rouletabille himself (who almost regretted, so far as hewas concerned, that it had not succeeded)--and Koupriane! Koupriane, whoshould have been there for luncheon. What a bag for the Nihilists!That was it, that was it. Rouletabille understood now why they had nothesitated to poison everybody at once: Koupriane was among them. 

Michael Nikolaievitch would have been avenged!

The attempt had failed this time, but what might they not expect now!From the moment he believed Michael Nikolaievitch no longer guilty, ashe had imagined, Rouletabille fell into a bottomless abyss. 

Where should he go? After a few moments he made the circuit of theRotunda, which serves as the market for this quarter and is the finestornament of Aptiekarski-Pereoulok. He made the circuit without knowingit, without stopping for anything, without seeing or understandinganything. As a broken-winded horse makes its way in the treadmill, so hewalked around with the thought that he also was lost in a treadmill thatled him nowhere. Rouletabille was no longer Rouletabille. 

XIII. THE LIVING BOMBS

At random--because now he could only act at random--he returned to thedatcha. Great disorder reigned there. The guard had been doubled. Thegeneral's friends, summoned by Trebassof, surrounded the two poisonedsufferers and filled the house with their bustling devotion and theirprotestations of affection. However, an insignificant doctor from thecommon quarter of the Vasili-Ostrow, brought by the police, reassuredeverybody. The police had not found the general's household physician athome, but promised the immediate arrival of two specialists, whom theyhad found instead. In the meantime they had picked up on the way thislittle doctor, who was gay and talkative as a magpie. He had enoughto do looking after Matrena Petrovna, who had been so sick that herhusband, Feodor Feodorovitch, still trembled, "for the first time in hislife, " as the excellent Ivan Petrovitch said. 

The reporter was astonished at not finding Natacha either in Matrena'sapartment or Feodor's. He asked Matrena where her step-daughter was. Matrena turned a frightened face toward him. When they were alone, shesaid:

"We do not know where she is. Almost as soon as you left shedisappeared, and no one has seen her since. The general has asked forher several times. I have had to tell him Koupriane took her with him tolearn the details from her of what happened. "

"She is not with Koupriane, " said Rouletabille. 

"Where is she? This disappearance is more than strange at the moment wewere dying, when her father--O God! Leave me, my child; I am stifling; Iam stifling. "

Rouletabille called the temporary doctor and withdrew from the chamber. He had come with the idea of inspecting the house room by room, cornerby corner, to make sure whether or not any possibility of entranceexisted that he had not noticed before, an entrance would-be poisonerswere continuing to use. But now a new fact confronted him andovershadowed everything: the disappearance of Natacha. How he lamentedhis ignorance of the Russian language--and not one of Koupriane's menknew French. He might draw something out of Ermolai. 

Ermolai said he had seen Natacha just outside the gate for a moment, looking up and down the road. Then he had been called to the general, and so knew nothing further. 

That was all the reporter could gather from the gestures rather than thewords of the old servant. 

An additional difficulty now was that twilight drew on, and it wasimpossible for the reporter to discern Natacha's foot-prints. Was ittrue that the young girl had fled at such a moment, immediately afterthe poisoning, before she knew whether her father and mother wereentirely out of danger? If Natacha were innocent, as Rouletabille stillwished to believe, such an attitude was simply incomprehensible. And thegirl could not but be aware she would increase Koupriane's suspicions. The reporter had a vital reason for seeing her immediately, a vitalreason for all concerned, above all in this moment when the Nihilistswere culminating their plans, a vital reason for her and for him, equally menaced with death, to talk with her and to renew thepropositions he had made a few minutes before the poisoning and whichshe had not wished to hear him talk about, in fearful pity for him or indefiance of him. Where was Natacha? He thought maybe she was tryingto rejoin Annouchka, and there were reasons for that, both if she wereinnocent and if she were guilty. But where was Annouchka? Who could say!Gounsovski perhaps. Rouletabille jumped into an isvo, returning from thePoint empty, and gave Gounsovski's address. He deigned then to recallthat he had been invited that same day to dine with the Gounsovskis. They would no longer be expecting him. He blamed himself. 

They received him, but they had long since finished dinner. 

Monsieur and Madame Gounsovski were playing a game of draughts underthe lamp. Rouletabille as he entered the drawing-room recognized theshining, fattish bald head of the terrible man. Gounsovski came to him, bowing, obsequious, his fat hands held out. He was presented to MadameGounsovski, who was besprinkled with jewels over her black silk gown. She had a muddy skin and magnificent eyes. She also was tentativelyeffusive. "We waited for you, monsieur, " she said, smirking timidly, with the careful charm of a woman a little along in years who reliesstill on infantine graces. As the recreant young man offered hisapologies, "Oh, we know you are much occupied, Monsieur Rouletabille. My husband said that to me only a moment ago. But he knew you would comefinally. In the end one always accepts my husband's invitation. " Shesaid this with a fat smile of importance. 

Rouletabille turned cold at this last phrase. He felt actual fear inthe presence of these two figures, so atrociously commonplace, in theirhorrible, decent little drawing-room. 

Madame continued:

"But you have had rather a bad dinner already, through that dreadfulaffair at General Trebassof's. Come into the dining-room. " "Ah, sosomeone has told you?" said Rouletabille. "No, no, thanks; I don't needanything more. You know what has happened?"

"If you had come to dinner, perhaps nothing would have happened at all, you know, " said Gounsovski tranquilly, seating himself again on thecushions and considering his game of draughts through his glasses. "Anyway, congratulations to Koupriane for being away from there throughhis fear. "

For Gounsovski there was only Koupriane! The life or death of Trebassofdid not occupy his mind. Only the acts and movements of the Prefect ofPolice had power to move him. He ordered a waiting-maid who glided intothe apartment without making more noise than a shadow to bring a smallstand loaded with zakouskis and bottles of champagne close to thegame-table, and he moved one of his pawns, saying, "You will permit me?This move is mine. I don't wish to lose it. "

Rouletabille ventured to lay his hand on the oily, hairy fist whichextended from a dubious cuff. 

"What is this you tell me? How could you have foreseen it?"

"It was easy to foresee everything, " replied Gounsovski, offeringcigars, "to foresee everything from the moment Matiew's place was filledby Priemkof. "

"Well?" questioned Rouletabille, recalling with some inquietude thesight of the whipping in the guards' chapel. 

"Well, this Priemkof, between ourselves, " (and he bent close to thereporter's ear) "is no better, as a police-guard for Koupriane thanMatiew himself. Very dangerous. So when I learned that he took Matiew'splace at the datcha des Iles, I thought there was sure to be someunfortunate happening. But it was no affair of mine, was it? Kouprianewould have been able to say to me, 'Mind your own business. ' I had gonefar enough in warning him of the 'living bombs. ' They had been denouncedto us by the same agency that enabled us to seize the two living bombs(women, if you please!) who were going to the military tribunal atCronstadt after the rebellion in the fleet. Let him recall that. Thatought to make him reflect. I am a brave man. I know he speaks ill of me;but I don't wish him any harm. The interests of the Empire before allelse between us! I wouldn't talk to you as I do if I didn't know theTsar honors you with his favor. Then I invited you to dinner. As onedines one talks. But you did not come. And, while you were dining downthere and while Priemkof was on guard at the datcha, that annoyingaffair Madame Gounsovski has spoken about happened. "

Rouletabille had not sat down, in spite of Madame Gounsovski'sinsistences. He took the box of cigars brusquely out of the hand of theChief of the Secret Service, who had continued tendering them, for thisdetail of hospitality only annoyed his mood, which had been dark enoughfor hours and was now deepened by what the other had just said. Hecomprehended only one thing, that a man named Priemkof, whom he hadnever heard spoken of, as determined as Matiew to destroy the general, had been entrusted by Koupriane with the guard of the datcha des Iles. It was necessary to warn Koupriane instantly. 

"How is it that you have not done so already, yourself, MonsieurGounsovski? Why wait to speak about it to me? It is unimaginable. "

"Pardon, pardon, " said Gounsovski, smiling softly behind his goggles;"it is not the same thing. "

"No, no, it is not the same thing, " seconded the lady with the blacksilk, brilliant jewels and flabby chin. "We speak here to a friend inthe course of dinner-talk, to a friend who is not of the police. Wenever denounce anybody. "

"We must tell you. But sit down now, " Gounsovski still insisted, lighting his cigar. "Be reasonable. They have just tried to poison him, so they will take time to breathe before they try something else. Then, too, this poison makes me think they may have given up the idea ofliving bombs. Then, after all, what is to be will be. "

"Yes, yes, " approved the ample dame. "The police never have been ableto prevent what was bound to happen. But, speaking of this Priemkof, itremains between us, eh? Between just us?"

"Yes, we must tell you now, " Gounsovski slipped in softly, "that it willbe much better not to let Koupriane know that you got the informationfrom me. Because then, you understand, he would not believe you; or, rather, he would not believe me. That is why we take these precautionsof dining and smoking a cigar. We speak of one thing and another andyou do as you please with what we say. But, to make them useful, it isabsolutely necessary, I repeat, to be silent about their source. " (Ashe said that, Gounsovski gave Rouletabille a piercing glance through hisgoggles, the first time Rouletabille had seen such a look in his eyes. He never would have suspected him capable of such fire. ) "Priemkof, "continued Gounsovski in a low voice, using his handkerchief vigorously, "was employed here in my home and we separated on bad terms, through hisfault, it is necessary to say. Then he got into Koupriane's confidenceby saying the worst he could of us, my dear little monsieur. "

"But what could he say?--servants' stories! my dear little monsieur, "repeated the fat dame, and rolled her great magnificent black eyesfuriously. "Stories that have been treated as they deserved at Court, certainly. Madame Daquin, the wife of His Majesty's head-cook, whomyou certainly know, and the nephew of the second Maid of Honor to theEmpress, who stands very well with his aunt, have told us so; servants'stories that might have ruined us but have not produced any effect onHis Majesty, for whom we would give our lives, Christ knows. Well, you understand now that if you were to say to Koupriane, 'GaspadineGounsovski has spoken ill to me of Priemkof, ' he would not care to heara word further. Still, Priemkof is in the scheme for the living bombs, that is all I can tell you; at least, he was before the affair of thepoisoning. That poisoning is certainly very astonishing, between us. Itdoes not appear to have come from without, whereas the living bombs willhave to come from without. And Priemkof is mixed up in it. "

"Yes, yes, " approved Madame Gounsovski again, "he is committed to it. There have been stories about him, too. Other people as well as he cantell tales; it isn't hard to do. He has got to make some showing now ifhe is to keep in with Annouchka's clique. "

"Koupriane, our dear Koupriane, " interrupted Gounsovski, slightlytroubled at hearing his wife pronounce Annouchka's name, "Kouprianeought to be able to understand that this time Priemkof must bring thingsoff, or he is definitely ruined. "

"Priemkof knows it well enough, " replied Madame as she re-filled theglasses, "but Koupriane doesn't know it; that is all we can tell you. Isit enough? All the rest is mere gossip. "

It certainly was enough for Rouletabille; he had had enough of it! Thisidle gossip and these living bombs! These pinchbecks, thesewhispering tale-tellers in their bourgeois, countrified setting; thesepolitico-police combinations whose grotesque side was always uppermost;while the terrible side, the Siberian aspect, prisons, black holes, hangings, disappearances, exiles and deaths and martyrdoms remainedso jealously hidden that no one ever spoke of them! All that weight ofhorror, between a good cigar and "a little glass of anisette, monsieur, if you won't take champagne. " Still, he had to drink before heleft, touch glasses in a health, promise to come again, whenever hewished--the house was open to him. Rouletabille knew it was open toanybody--anybody who had a tale to tell, something that would sendsome other person to prison or to death and oblivion. No guard at theentrance to check a visitor--men entered Gounsovski's house as the houseof a friend, and he was always ready to do you a service, certainly!

He accompanied the reporter to the stairs. Rouletabille was just aboutto risk speaking of Annouchka to him, in order to approach the subjectof Natacha, when Gounsovski said suddenly, with a singular smile:

"By the way, do you still believe in Natacha Trebassof?"

"I shall believe in her until my death, " Rouletabille thrust back; "butI admit to you that at this moment I don't know where she has gone. "

"Watch the Bay of Lachtka, and come to tell me to-morrow if you willbelieve in her always, " replied Gounsovski, confidentially, with ahorrid sort of laugh that made the reporter hurry down the stairs. 

And now here was Priemkof to look after! Priemkof after Matiew!It seemed to the young man that he had to contend against all therevolutionaries not only, but all the Russian police as well--andGounsovski himself, and Koupriane! Everybody, everybody! But mosturgent was Priemkof and his living bombs. What a strange and almostincomprehensible and harassing adventure this was between Nihilism andthe Russian police. Koupriane and Gounsovski both employed a man theyknew to be a revolutionary and the friend of revolutionaries. Nihilism, on its side, considered this man of the police force as one of itsown agents. In his turn, this man, in order to maintain his perilousequilibrium, had to do work for both the police and the revolutionaries, and accept whatever either gave him to do as it came, because itwas necessary he should give them assurances of his fidelity. Onlyimbeciles, like Gapone, let themselves be hanged or ended by beingexecuted, like Azef, because of their awkward slips. But a Priemkof, playing both branches of the police, had a good chance of living a longtime, and a Gounsovski would die tranquilly in his bed with all thesolaces of religion. 

However, the young hearts hot with sincerity, sheathed with dynamite, are mysteriously moved in the atrocious darkness of Holy Russia, andthey do not know where they will be sent, and it is all one to them, because all they ask is to die in a mad spiritual delirium of hateand love--living bombs!*

 * In the trial after the revolt at Cronstadt two young women were charged with wearing bombs as false bosoms. 

At the corner of Aptiekarski-Pereoulok Rouletabille came in the wayof Koupriane, who was leaving for Pere Alexis's place and, seeing thereporter, stopped his carriage and called that he was going immediatelyto the datcha. 

"You have seen Pere Alexis?"

"Yes, " said Koupriane. "And this time I have it on you. What I told you, what I foresaw, has happened. But have you any news of the sufferers?Apropos, rather a curious thing has happened. I met Kister on the Newskyjust now. "

"The physician?"

"Yes, one of Trebassof's physicians whom I had sent an inspector to hishouse to fetch to the datcha, as well as his usual associate, DoctorLitchkof. Well, neither Litchkof nor he had been summoned. Theydidn't know anything had happened at the datcha. They had not seen myinspector. I hope he has met some other doctor on the way and, in viewof the urgency, has taken him to the datcha. "

"That is what has happened, " replied Rouletabille, who had turned verypale. "Still, it is strange these gentlemen had not been notified, because at the datcha the Trebassofs were told that the general's usualdoctors were not at home and so the police had summoned two others whowould arrive at once. "

Koupriane jumped up in the carriage. 

"But Kister and Litchkof had not left their houses. Kister, who had justmet Litchkof, said so. What does this mean?"

"Can you tell me, " asked Rouletabille, ready now for the thunder-clapthat his question invited, "the name of the inspector you ordered tobring them?"

"Priemkof, a man with my entire confidence. "

Koupriane's carriage rushed toward the Isles. Late evening had come. Alone on the deserted route the horses seemed headed for the stars; thecarriage behind seemed no drag upon them. The coachman bent above them, arms out, as though he would spring into the ether. Ah, the beautifulnight, the lovely, peaceful night beside the Neva, marred by the wildgallop of these maddened horses!

"Priemkof! Priemkof! One of Gounsovski's men! I should have suspectedhim, " railed Koupriane after Rouletabille's explanations. "But now, shall we arrive in time?"

They stood up in the carriage, urging the coachman, exciting the horses:"Scan! Scan! Faster, douriak!" Could they arrive before the "livingbombs"? Could they hear them before they arrived? Ah, there wasEliaguine!

They rushed from the one bank to the other as though there were nobridges in their insensate course. And their ears were strained for theexplosion, for the abomination now to come, preparing slyly in the nightso hypocritically soft under the cold glance of the stars. Suddenly, "Stop, stop!" Rouletabille cried to the coachman. 

"Are you mad!" shouted Koupriane. 

"We are mad if we arrive like madmen. That would make the catastrophesure. There is still a chance. If we wish not to lose it, then we mustarrive easily and calmly, like friends who know the general is out ofdanger. "

"Our only chance is to arrive before the bogus doctors. Either theyaren't there, or it already is all over. Priemkof must have beensurprised at the affair of the poisoning, but he has seized theopportunity; fortunately he couldn't find his accomplices immediately. "

"Here is the datcha, anyway. In the name of heaven, tell your driver tostop the horses here. If the 'doctors' are already there it is we whoshall have killed the general. "

"You are right. "

Koupriane moderated his excitement and that of his driver and horses, and the carriage stopped noiselessly, not far from the datcha. Ermolaicame toward them. 

"Priemkof?" faltered Koupriane. 

"He has gone again, Excellency. "

"How--gone again?"

"Yes, but he has brought the doctors. "

Koupriane crushed Rouletabille's wrist. The doctors were there!

"Madame Trebassof is better, " continued Ermolai, who understood nothingof their emotion. "The general is going to meet them and take them tohis wife himself. "

"Where are they?"

"They are waiting in the drawing-room. "

"Oh, Excellency, keep cool, keep cool, and all is not lost, " imploredthe reporter. 

Rouletabille and Koupriane slipped carefully into the garden. Ermolaifollowed them. 

"There?" inquired Koupriane. 

"There, " Ermolai replied. 

From the corner where they were, and looking through the veranda, theycould see the "doctors" as they waited. 

They were seated in chairs side by side, in a corner of the drawing-roomfrom where they could see every-thing in the room and a part of thegarden, which they faced, and could hear everything. A window of thefirst-floor was open above their heads, so that they could hear anynoise from there. They could not be surprised from any side, and theyheld every door in view. They were talking softly and tranquilly, looking straight before them. They appeared young. One had a pleasantface, pale but smiling, with rather long, curly hair; the other was moreangular, with haughty bearing and grave face, an eagle nose and glasses. Both wore long black coats buttoned over their calm chests. 

Koupriane and the reporter, followed by Ermolai, advanced with thegreatest precaution across the lawn. Screened by the wooden stepsleading to the veranda and by the vine-clad balustrade, they got nearenough to hear them. Koupriane gave eager ear to the words of these twoyoung men, who might have been so rich in the many years of life thatnaturally belonged to them, and who were about to die so horrible adeath in destroying all about them. They spoke of what time it was, ofthe softness of the night and the beauty of the sky; they spoke of theshadows under the birch-trees, of the gulf shining in the late evening'sfading golden light, of the river's freshness and the sweetness ofspringtime in the North. That is what they talked about. Kouprianemurmured, "The assassins!"

Now it was necessary to decide on action, and that necessity washorrible. A false movement, an awkwardness, and the "doctors" would bewarned, and everything lost. They must have the bombs under their coats;there were certainly at least two "living bombs. " Their chests, asthey breathed, must heave to and fro and their hearts beat against animpending explosion. 

Above on the bedroom floor, they heard the rapid arranging of the room, steps on the floor and a confusion of voices; shadows passed across thewindow-space. Koupriane rapidly interrogated Ermolai and learned thatall the general's friends were there. The two doctors had arrived onlya couple of minutes before the Prefect of Police and the reporter. The little doctor of Vassili-Ostrow had already gone, saying there wasnothing more for him to do when two such celebrated specialists hadarrived. However, in spite of their celebrity, no one had ever heard thenames they gave. Koupriane believed the little doctor was an accomplice. The most necessary thing was to warn those in the room above. There wasimmediate danger that someone would come downstairs to find the doctorsand take them to the general, or that the general would come downhimself to meet them. Evidently that was what they were waiting for. They wished to die in his arms, to make sure that this time he did notescape them! Koupriane directed Ermolai to go into the veranda and speakin a commonplace way to them at the threshold of the drawing-room door, saying that he would go upstairs and see if he might now escort themto Madame Trebassof's room. Once in the room above, he could warn theothers not to do anything but wait for Koupriane; then Ermolai was tocome down and say to the men, "In just a moment, if you please. "

Ermolai crept back as far as the lodge, and then came quite normally upthe path, letting the gravel crunch under his countrified footsteps. He was an intelligent man, and grasped with extraordinary coolness theimportance of the plan of campaign. Easily and naturally he mounted theveranda steps, paused at the threshold of the drawing-room, made theremark he had been told to make, and went upstairs. Koupriane andRouletabille now watched the bedroom windows. The flitting shadows theresuddenly became motionless. All moving about ceased; no more steps wereheard, nothing. And that sudden silence made the two "doctors" raisetheir faces toward the ceiling. Then they exchanged an aroused glance. This change in the manner of things above was dangerous. Kouprianemuttered, "The idiots!" It was such a blow for those upstairs to learnthey walked over a mine ready to explode that it evidently had paralyzedtheir limbs. Happily Ermolai came down almost immediately and said tothe "doctors" in his very best domestic manner:

"Just a second, messieurs, if you please. "

He did it still with utter naturalness. And he returned to the ledgebefore he rejoined Koupriane and Rouletabille by way of the lawn. Rouletabille, entirely cool, quite master of himself, as calm now asKoupriane was nervous, said to the Prefect of Police:

"We must act now, and quickly. They are commencing to be suspicious. Have you a plan?"

"Here is all I can see, " said Koupriane. "Have the general come down bythe narrow servants' stairway, and slip out of the house from the windowof Natacha's sitting-room, with the aid of a twisted sheet. MatrenaPetrovna will come to speak to them during this time; that will keepthem patient until the general is out of danger. As soon as Matrena haswithdrawn into the garden, I will call my men, who will shoot them froma distance. "

"And the house itself? And the general's friends?"

"Let them try to get away, too, by the servants' stairway and jump fromthe window after the general. We must try something. Say that I havethem at the muzzle of my revolver. "

"Your plan won't work, " said Rouletabille, "unless the door of Natacha'ssitting-room that opens on the drawing-room is closed. "

"It is. I can see from here. "

"And unless the door of the little passage-way before that staircasethat opens into the drawing-room is closed also, and you cannot see itfrom here. "

"That door is open, " said Ermolai. 

Koupriane swore. But he recovered himself promptly. 

"Madame Trebassof will close the door when she speaks to them. "

"It's impracticable, " said the reporter. "That will arouse theirsuspicions more than ever. Leave it to me; I have a plan. "

"What?"

"I have time to execute it, but not to tell you about it. They havealready waited too long. I shall have to go upstairs, though. Ermolaiwill need to go with me, as with a friend of the family. "

"I'll go too. "

"That would give the whole show away, if they saw you, the Prefect ofPolice. "

"Why, no. If they see me--and they know I ought to be there--as soonas I show myself to them they will conclude I don't know anything aboutit. "

"You are wrong. "

"It is my duty. I should be near the general to defend him until thelast. "

Rouletabille shrugged his shoulders before this dangerous heroism, buthe did not stop to argue. He knew that his plan must succeed at once, or in five minutes at the latest there would be only ruins, the dead andthe dying in the datcha des Iles. 

Still he remained astonishingly calm. In principle he had admitted thathe was going to die. The only hope of being saved which remained to themrested entirely upon their keeping perfectly cool and upon the patienceof the living bombs. Would they still have three minutes' patience?

Ermolai went ahead of Koupriane and Rouletabille. At the moment theyreached the foot of the veranda steps the servant said loudly, repeatinghis lesson:

"Oh, the general is waiting for you, Excellency. He told me to have youcome to him at once. He is entirely well and Madame Trebassof also. "

When they were in the veranda, he added:

"She is to see also, at once, these gentlemen, who will be able to tellher there is no more danger. "

And all three passed while Koupriane and Rodetabille vaguely salutedthe two conspirators in the drawing-room. It was a decisive moment. Recognizing Koupriane, the two Nihilists might well believe themselvesdiscovered, as the reporter had said, and precipitate the catastrophe. However, Ermolai, Koupriane and Rouletabille climbed the stairs to thebedroom like automatons, not daring to look behind them, and expectingthe end each instant. But neither stirred. Ermolai went down again, byRouletabille's order, normally, naturally, tranquilly. They went intoMatrena Petrovna's chamber. Everybody was there. It was a gathering ofghosts. 

Here was what had happened above. That the "doctors" still remainedbelow, that they had not been received instantly, in brief, that thecatastrophe had been delayed up to now was due to Matrena Petrovna, whose watchful love, like a watch-dog, was always ready to scent danger. These two "doctors" whose names she did not know, who arrived so late, and the precipitate departure of the little doctor of Vassili-Ostrowaroused her watchfulness. Before allowing them to come upstairs to thegeneral she resolved to have a look at them herself downstairs. Shearose from her bed for that; and now her presentiment was justified. When she saw Ermolai, sober and mysterious, enter with Koupriane'smessage, she knew instinctively, before he spoke, that there were bombsin the house. When Ermolai did speak it was a blow for everybody. Atfirst she, Matrena Perovna, had been a frightened, foolish figure inthe big flowered dressing-gown belonging to Feodor that she had wrappedabout her in her haste. When Ermolai left, the general, who knew sheonly trembled for him, tried to reassure her, and, in the midst ofthe frightened silence of all of them, said a few words recallingthe failure of all the previous attempts. But she shook her head andtrembled, shaking with fear for him, in agony at the thought that shecould do nothing there above those living bombs but wait for them toburst. As to the friends, already their limbs were ruined, absolutelyruined, in very truth. For a moment they were quite incapable of moving. The jolly Councilor of Empire, Ivan Petrovitch, had no longer a livelytale to tell, and the abominable prospect of "this horrible mix-up"right at hand rendered him much less gay than in his best hours atCubat's place. And poor Thaddeus Tchitchnikoff was whiter than thesnow that covers old Lithuania's fields when the winter's chase is on. Athanase Georgevitch himself was not brilliant, and his sanguine facehad quite changed, as though he had difficulty in digesting his lastmasterpiece with knife and fork. But, in justice to them, that wasthe first instantaneous effect. No one could learn like that, all ofa sudden, that they were about to die in an indiscriminate slaughterwithout the heart being stopped for a little. Ermolai's words had turnedthese amiable loafers into waxen statues, but, little by little, theirhearts commenced to beat again and each suggested some way of preventingthe disaster--all of them sufficiently incoherent--while MatrenaPetrovna invoked the Virgin and at the same time helped FeodorFeodorovitch adjust his sword and buckle his belt; for the generalwished to die in uniform. 

Athanase Georgevitch, his eyes sticking out of his head and his bodybent as though he feared the Nihlists just below him might perceive histall form--through the floor, no doubt--proposed that they should throwthemselves out of the window, even at the cost of broken legs. Thesaddened Councilor of Empire declared that project simply idiotic, foras they fell they would be absolutely at the disposal of the Nihilists, who would be attracted by the noise and would make a handful of dust ofthem with a single gesture through the window. Thaddeus Tchitchnikoff, who couldn't think of anything at all, blamed Koupriane and the rest ofthe police for not having devised something. Why hadn't they already gotrid of these Nihilists? After the frightened silence they had kept atfirst, now they all spoke at once, in low voices, hoarse and rapid, withshortened breath, making wild movements of the arms and head, and walkedhere and there in the chamber quite without motive, but very softly ontiptoe, going to the windows, returning, listening at the doors, peeringthrough the key-holes, exchanging absurd suggestions, full of thewildest imaginings. "If we should. .. If. .. If, "--everybody speaking andeverybody making signs for the others to be quiet. "Lower! If they hearus, we are lost. " And Koupriane, who did not come, and his police, whothemselves had brought two assassins into the house, and were notable now to make them leave without having everybody jump! They werecertainly lost. There was nothing left but to say their prayers. Theyturned to the general and Matrena Petrovna, who were wrapped in a closeembrace. Feodor had taken the poor disheveled head of the good Matrenabetween his hands and pressed it upon his shoulders as he embraced her. He said, "Rest quietly against my heart, Matrena Petrovna. Nothing canhappen to us except what God wills. "

At that sight and that remark the others grew ashamed of theirconfusion. The harmony of that couple embracing in the presence of deathrestored them to themselves, to their courage, and their "Nitchevo. "Athanase Georgevitch, Ivan Petrovitch and Thaddeus Tchitchnikoffrepeated after Matrena Petrovna, "As God wills. " And then they said"Nitchevo! Nitchevo!* We will all die with you, Feodor Feodorovitch. "And they all kissed one another and clasped one another in their arms, their eyes dim with love one for another, as at the end of a greatbanquet when they had eaten and drunk heavily in honor of one another. 

 * "What does it matter!"

"Listen. Someone is coming up the stairs, " whispered Matrena, with herkeen ear, and she slipped from the restraint of her husband. 

Breathless, they all hurried to the door opening on the landing, butwith steps as light "as though they walked on eggs. " All four of themwere leaning over there close by the door, hardly daring to breathe. They heard two men on the stairs. Were they Koupriane and Rouletabille, or were they the others? They had revolvers in their hands and drew backa little when the footsteps sounded near the door. Behind them Trebassofwas quietly seated in his chair. The door was opened and Koupriane andRouletabille perceived these death-like figures, motionless and mute. No one dared to speak or make a movement until the door had been closed. But then:

"Well? Well? Save us! Where are they? Ah, my dear little domovoi-doukh, save the general, for the love of the Virgin!"

"Tsst! tsst! Silence. "

Rouletabille, very pale, but calm, spoke:

"The plan is simple. They are between the two staircases, watching theone and the other. I will go and find them and make them mount the onewhile you descend by the other. "

"Caracho! That is simple enough. Why didn't we think of it sooner?Because everybody lost his head except the dear little domovoi-doukh!"

But here something happened Rouletabille had not counted on. The generalrose and said, "You have forgotten one thing, my young friend; that isthat General Trebassof will not descend by the servants' stairway. "

His friends looked at him in stupefaction, and asked if he had gone mad. 

"What is this you say, Feodor?" implored Matrena. 

"I say, " insisted the general, "that I have had enough of this comedy, and that since Monsieur Koupriane has not been able to arrest these men, and since, on their side, they don't seem to decide to do their duty, Ishall go myself and put them out of my house. "

He started a few steps, but had not his cane and suddenly he tottered. Matrena Petrovna jumped to him and lifted him in her arms as though hewere a feather. 

"Not by the servants' stairway, not by the servants' stairway, " growledthe obstinate general. 

"You will go, " Matrena replied to him, "by the way I take you. "

And she carried him back into the apartment while she said quickly toRouletabille:

"Go, little domovoi! And God protect us!"

Rouletabille disappeared at once through the door to the main staircase, and the group attended by Koupriane, passed through the dressing-roomand the general's chamber, Matrena Petrovna in the lead with herprecious burden. Ivan Petrovitch had his hand already on the famous boltwhich locked the door to the servants' staircase when they all turned atthe sound of a quick step behind them. Rouletabille had returned. 

"They are no longer in the drawing-room. "

"Not in the drawing-room! Where are they, then?"

Rouletabille pointed to the door they were about to open. 

"Perhaps behind that door. Take care!"

All drew back. 

"But Ermolai ought to know where they are, " exclaimed Koupriane. "Perhaps they have gone, finding out they were discovered. "

"They have assassinated Ermolai. "

"Assassinated Ermolai!"

"I have seen his body lying in the middle of the drawing-room as Ileaned over the top of the banister. But they were not in the room, andI was afraid you would run into them, for they may well be hidden in theservants' stairway. "

"Then open the window, Koupriane, and call your men to deliver us. "

"I am quite willing, " replied Koupriane coldly, "but it is the signalfor our deaths. "

"Well, why do they wait so to make us die?" muttered FeodorFeodorovitch. "I find them very tedious about it, for myself. What areyou doing, Ivan Petrovitch?"

The spectral figure of Ivan Petrovitch, bent beside the door of thestairway, seemed to be hearing things the others could not catch, butwhich frightened them so that they fled from the general's chamber indisorder. Ivan Petrovitch was close on them, his eyes almost stickingfrom his head, his mouth babbling:

"They are there! They are there!"

Athanase Georgevitch open a window wildly and said:

"I am going to jump. "

But Thaddeus Tchitchnikofl' stopped him with a word. "For me, I shallnot leave Feodor Feodorovitch. "

Athanase and Ivan both felt ashamed, and trembling, but brave, theygathered round the general and said, "We will die together, we will dietogether. We have lived with Feodor Feodorovitch, and we will die withhim. "

"What are they waiting for? What are they waiting for?" grumbled thegeneral. 

Matrena Petrovna's teeth chattered. "They are waiting for us to godown, " said Koupraine. 

"Very well, let us do it. This thing must end, " said Feodor. 

"Yes, yes, " they all said, for the situation was becoming intolerable;"enough of this. Go on down. Go on down. God, the Virgin and SaintsPeter and Paul protect us. Let us go. "

The whole group, therefore, went to the main staircase, with themovements of drunken men, fantastic waving of the arms, mouthsspeaking all together, saying things no one but themselves understood. Rouletabille had already hurriedly preceded them, was down thestaircase, had time to throw a glance into the drawing-room, steppedover Ermolai's huge corpse, entered Natacha's sitting-room and herchamber, found all these places deserted and bounded back into theveranda at the moment the others commenced to descend the steps aroundFeodor Feodorovitch. The reporter's eyes searched all the dark cornersand had perceived nothing suspicious when, in the veranda, he moved achair. A shadow detached itself from it and glided under the staircase. Rouletabille cried to the group on the stairs. 

"They are under the staircase!"

Then Rouletabille confronted a sight that he could never forget all hislife. 

At this cry, they all stopped, after an instinctive move to go back. Feodor Feodorovitch, who was still in Matrena Petrovna's arms, cried:

"Vive le Tsar!"

And then, those whom the reporter half expected to see flee, distracted, one way and another, or to throw themselves madly from the height of thesteps, abandoning Feodor and Matrena, gathered themselves instead bya spontaneous movement around the general, like a guard of honor, inbattle, around the flag. Koupriane marched ahead. And they insistedalso upon descending the terrible steps slowly, and sang the Bodje tsaraKrani, the national anthem!

With an overwhelming roar, which shocked earth and sky and the ears ofRouletabille, the entire house seemed lifted in the air; the staircaserose amid flame and smoke, and the group which sang the Bodje tsaraKrani disappeared in a horrible apotheosis. 

XIV. THE MARSHES

They ascertained the next day that there had been two explosions, almostsimultaneous, one under each staircase. The two Nihilists, whenthey felt themselves discovered, and watched by Ermolai, had thrownthemselves silently on him as he turned his back in passing them, andstrangled him with a piece of twine. Then they separated each to watchone of the staircases, reasoning that Koupriane and General Trebassofwould have to decide to descend. 

The datcha des Iles was nothing now but a smoking ruin. But from thefact that the living bombs had exploded separately the destructiveeffect was diffused, and although there were numerous wounded, as in thecase of the attack on the Stolypine datcha, at least no one was killedoutright; that is, excepting the two Nihilists, of whom no trace couldbe found save a few rags. 

Rouletabille had been hurled into the garden and he was glad enough toescape so, a little shaken, but without a scratch. The group composed ofFeodor and his friends were strangely protected by the lightness of thedatcha's construction. The iron staircase, which, so to speak, almosthung to the two floors, being barely attached at top and bottom, raisedunder them and then threw them off as it broke into a thousand pieces, but only after, by its very yielding, it had protected them from thefirst force of the bomb. They had risen from the ruins without mortalwounds. Koupriane had a hand badly burned, Athanase Georgevitch had hisnose and cheeks seriously hurt, Ivan Petrovitch lost an ear; the mostseriously injured was Thaddeus Tchitchnikoff, both of whose legs werebroken. Extraordinarily enough, the first person who appeared, risingfrom the midst of the wreckage, was Matrena Petrovna, still holdingFeodor in her arms. She had escaped with a few burns and the general, saved again by the luck of the soldier whom Death does not want, wasabsolutely uninjured. Feodor gave shouts of joy. They strove to quiethim, because, after all, around him some poor wretches had been badlyhurt, as well as poor Ermolai, who lay there dead. The domestics in thebasement had been more seriously wounded and burned because the mainforce of the explosion had gone downwards; which had probably saved thepersonages above. 

Rouletabille had been taken with the other victims to a neighboringdatcha; but as soon as he had shaken himself free of that terriblenightmare he escaped from the place. He really regretted that he was notdead. These successive waves of events had swamped him; and he accusedhimself alone of all this disaster. With acutest anxiety he had inquiredabout the condition of each of "his victims. " Feodor had not beenwounded, but now he was almost delirious, asking every other minute asthe hours crept on for Natacha, who had not reappeared. That unhappygirl Rouletabille had steadily believed innocent. Was she a culprit?"Ah, if she had only chosen to! If she had had confidence, " he cried, raising anguished hands towards heaven, "none of all this need havehappened. No one would have attacked and no one would ever again attackthe life of Trebassof. For I was not wrong in claiming before Kouprianethat the general's life was in my hand, and I had the right to sayto him, 'Life for life! Give me Matiew's and I will give you thegeneral's. ' And now there has been one more fruitless attempt to killFeodor Feodorovitch and it is Natacha's fault--that I swear, becauseshe would not listen to me. And is Natacha implicated in it? O my God"Rouletabille asked this vain question of the Divinity, for he expectedno more help in answering it on earth. 

Natacha! Innocent or guilty, where was she? What was she doing? to knowthat! To know if one were right or wrong--and if one were wrong, todisappear, to die!

Thus the unhappy Rouletabille muttered as he walked along the bank ofthe Neva, not far from the ruins of the poor datcha, where the joyousfriends of Feodor Feodorovitch would have no more good dinners, never;so he soliloquized, his head on fire. 

And, all at once, he recovered trace of the young girl, that trace lostearlier, a trace left at her moment of flight, after the poisoning andbefore the explosion. And had he not in that a terrible coincidence?Because the poison might well have been only in preparation for thefinal attack, the pretext for the tragic arrival of the two falsedoctors. Natacha, Natacha, the living mystery surrounded already by somany dead!

Not far from the ruins of the datcha Rouletabille soon made sure that agroup of people had been there the night before, coming from the woodsnear-by, and returning to them. He was able to be sure of this becausethe boundaries of the datcha had been guarded by troops and police assoon as the explosion took place, under orders to keep back the crowdthat hurried to Eliaguine. He looked attentively at the grass, theferns, the broken and trampled twigs. Certainly a struggle had occurredthere. He could distinguish clearly in the soft earth of a narrow gladethe prints of Natacha's two little boots among all the large footprints. 

He continued his search with his heart heavier and heavier, he had apresentiment that he was on the point of discovering a new misfortune. The footprints passed steadily under the branches along the side of theNeva. From a bush he picked a shred of white cloth, and it seemed tohim a veritable battle had taken place there. Torn branches strewed thegrass. He went on. Very close to the bank he saw by examination of thesoil, where there was no more trace of tiny heels and little soles, that the woman who had been found there was carried, and carried, into aboat, of which the place of fastening to the bank was still visible. 

"They have carried off Natacha, " he cried in a surge of anguish. "bungler that I am, that is my fault too--all my fault--all my fault!They wished to avenge Michael Nikolaievitch's death, for which they holdNatacha responsible, and they have kidnapped her. "

His eyes searched the great arm of the river for a boat. The river wasdeserted. Not a sail, nothing visible on the dead waters! "What shall Ido? What shall I do? I must save her. "

He resumed his course along the river. Who could give him any usefulinformation? He drew near a little shelter occupied by a guard. Theguard was speaking to an officer. Perhaps he had noticed somethingduring his watch that evening along the river. That branch of the riverwas almost always deserted after the day was over. A boat plyingbetween these shores in the twilight would certainly attract attention. Rouletabille showed the guard the paper Koupriane had given him in thebeginning, and with the officer (who turned out to be a police officer)as interpreter, he asked his questions. As a matter of fact the guardhad been sufficiently puzzled by the doings and comings of a light boatwhich, after disappearing for an instant, around the bend of the river, had suddenly rowed swiftly out again and accosted a sailing-yacht whichappeared at the opening of the gulf. It was one of those small but rapidand elegant sailing craft such as are seen in the Lachtka regattas. 

Lachtka! "The Bay of Lachtka!"

The word was a ray of light for the reporter, who recalled now thecounsel Gounsovski had given him. "Watch the Bay of Lachtka, and tellme then if you still believe Natacha is innocent!" Gounsovski must haveknown when he said this that Natacha had embarked in company with theNihilists, but evidently he was ignorant that she had gone with themunder compulsion, as their prisoner. 

Was it too late to save Natacha? In any case, before he died, he wouldtry in every way possible, so as at least to have kept her as much as hecould from the disaster for which he held himself responsible. He ran tothe Barque, near the Point. 

His voice was firm as he hailed the canoe of the floating restaurantwhere, thanks to him, Koupriane had been thwarted in impotent anger. Hehad himself taken to just below Staria-Derevnia and jumped out at thespot where he saw little Katharina disappear a few days before. Helanded in the mud and climbed on hands and knees up the slope of aroadway which followed the bank. This bank led to the Bay of Lachtka, not far from the frontier of Finland. 

On Rouletabille's left lay the sea, the immense gulf with slight waves;to his right was the decaying stretch of the marsh. Stagnant waterstretching to the horizon, coarse grass and reeds, an extraordinarytangle of water-plants, small ponds whose greenish scum did not stirunder the stiff breeze, water that was heavy and dirty. Along thisnarrow strip of land thrust thus between the marsh, the sky and the sea, he hurried, with many stumblings, his eyes fixed on the deserted gulf. Suddenly he turned his head at a singular noise. At first he didn't seeanything, but heard in the distance a vague clamoring while a sort ofvapor commenced to rise from the marsh. And then he noticed, nearerhim, the high marsh grasses undulating. Finally he saw a countless flockrising from the bed of the marshes. Beasts, groups of beasts, whosehorns one saw like bayonets, jostled each other trying to keep to thefirm land. Many of them swam and on the backs of some were naked men, stark naked, with hair falling to their shoulders and streamingbehind them like manes. They shouted war-cries and waved their clubs. Rouletabille stopped short before this prehistoric invasion. He wouldnever have imagined that a few miles from the Newsky Prospect he couldhave found himself in the midst of such a spectacle. These savages hadnot even a loin-cloth. Where did they come from with their herd? Fromwhat remote place in the world or in old and gone history had theyemerged? What was this new invasion? What prodigious slaughter-houseawaited these unruly herds? They made a noise like thunder in the marsh. Here were a thousand unkempt haunches undulating in the marsh like theocean as a storm approaches. The stark-naked men jumped along the route, waving their clubs, crying gutturally in a way the beasts seemed tounderstand. They worked their way out from the marsh and turned towardthe city, leaving behind, to swathe the view of them a while and thenfade away, a pestilential haze that hung like an aura about the naked, long-haired men. It was terrible and magnificent. In order not to beshoved into the water, Rouletabille had climbed a small rock that stoodbeside the route, and had waited there as though petrified himself. When the barbarians had finally passed by he climbed down again, but theroute had become a bog of trampled filth. 

Happily, he heard the noise of a primitive conveyance behind him. Itwas a telega. Curiously primitive, the telega is four-wheeled, with twoplanks thrown crudely across the axle-trees. Rouletabille gave the manwho was seated in it thee roubles, and jumped into the planks besidehim, and the two little Finnish horses, whose manes hung clear to themud, went like the wind. Such crude conveyances are necessary on suchcrude roads, but it requires a strong constitution to make a journey onthem. Still, the reporter felt none of the jolting, he was so intenton the sea and the coast of Lachtka Bay. The vehicle finally reacheda wooden bridge, across a murky creek. As the day commenced to fadecolorlessly, Rouletabille jumped off onto the shore and his rusticequipage crossed to the Sestroriesk side. It was a corner of land blackand somber as his thoughts that he surveyed now. "Watch the Bay ofLachtka!" The reporter knew that this desolate plain, this impenetrablemarsh, this sea which offered the fugitive refuge in innumerable fords, had always been a useful retreat for Nihilistic adventurers. A hundredlegends circulated in St. Petersburg about the mysteries of Lachtkamarshes. And that gave him his last hope. Maybe he would be able to runacross some revolutionaries to whom he could explain about Natacha, asprudently as possible; he might even see Natacha herself. Gounsovskicould not have spoken vain words to him. 

Between the Lachtkrinsky marsh and the strand he perceived on the edgeof the forests which run as far as Sestroriesk a little wooden housewhose walls were painted a reddish-brown, and its roof green. It wasnot the Russian isba, but the Finnish touba. However, a Russian signannounced it to be a restaurant. The young man had to take only a fewsteps to enter it. He was the only customer there. An old man, with glasses and a long gray beard, evidently the proprietor of theestablishment, stood behind the counter, presiding over the zakouskis. Rouletabille chose some little sandwiches which he placed on a plate. Hetook a bottle of pivo and made the man understand that later, if it werepossible, he would like a good hot supper. The other made a sign thathe understood and showed him into an adjoining room which was used fordiners. Rouletabille was quite ready enough to die in the face of hisfailures, but he did not wish to perish from hunger. 

A table was placed beside a window looking out over the sea and over theentrance to the bay. It could not have been better and, with his eyenow on the horizon, now on the estuary near-by, he commenced to eat withgloomy avidity. He was inclined to feel sorry for himself, to indulgein self-pity. "Just the same, two and two always make four, " he said tohimself; "but in my calculations perhaps I have forgotten the surd. Ah, there was a time when I would not have overlooked anything. And even nowI haven't overlooked anything, if Natacha is innocent!" Having literallyscoured the plate, he struck the table a great blow with his fist andsaid: "She is!"

Just then the door opened. Rouletabille supposed the proprietor of theplace was entering. 

It was Koupriane. 

He rose, startled. He could not imagine by what mystery the Prefect ofPolice had made his way there, but he rejoiced from the bottom of hisheart, for if he was trying to rescue Natacha from the hands of therevolutionaries Koupriane would be a valuable ally. He clapped thePrefect on the shoulder. 

"Well, well!" he said, almost joyfully. "I certainly did not expect youhere. How is your wound?"

"Nitchevo! Not worth speaking about; it's nothing. "

"And the general and--! Ah, that frightful night! And those twounfortunates who--?"

"Nitchevo! Nitchevo!"

"And poor Ermolai!"

"Nitchevo! Nitchevo! It is nothing. "

Rouletabille looked him over. The Prefect of Police had an arm in asling, but he was bright and shining as a new ten-rouble piece, whilehe, poor Rouletabille, was so abominably soiled and depressed. Where didhe come from? Koupriane understood his look and smiled. 

"Well, I have just come from the Finland train; it is the best way. "

"But what can you have come here to do, Excellency?"

"The same thing as you. "

"Bah!" exclaimed Rouletabille, "do you mean to say that you have comehere to save Natacha?"

"How--to save her! I come to capture her. "

"To capture her?"

"Monsieur Rouletabille, I have a very fine little dungeon in SaintsPeter and Paul fortress that is all ready for her. "

"You are going to throw Natacha into a dungeon!"

"The Emperor's order, Monsieur Rouletabille. And if you see me here inperson it is simply because His Majesty requires that the thing be doneas respectfully and discreetly as possible. "

"Natacha in prison!" cried the reporter, who saw in horror all obstaclesrising before him at one and the same time. "For what reasons, pray?"

"The reason is simple enough. Natacha Feodorovna is the last word inwickedness and doesn't deserve anybody's pity. She is the accompliceof the revolutionaries and the instigator of all the crimes against herfather. "

"I am sure that you are mistaken, Excellency. But how have you beenguided to her?"

"Simply by you. "

"By me?"

"Yes, we lost all trace of Natacha. But, as you had disappeared also, I made up my mind that you could only be occupied in searching for her, and that by finding you I might have the chance to lay my hands on her. "

"But I haven't seen any of your men?"

"Why, one of them brought you here. "

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Didn't you climb onto a telega?"

"Ah, the driver. "

"Exactly. I had arranged to have him meet me at the Sestroriesk station. He pointed out the place where you dropped off, and here I am. "

The reporter bent his head, red with chagrin. Decidedly the sinisteridea that he was responsible for the death of an innocent man andall the ills which had followed out of it had paralyzed his detectivetalents. He recognized it now. What was the use of struggling! Ifanyone had told him that he would be played with that way sometime, he, Rouletabille! he would have laughed heartily enough--then. But now, well, he wasn't capable of anything further. He was his own most cruelenemy. Not only was Natacha in the hands of the revolutionaries throughhis fault, by his abominable error, but worse yet, in the very momentwhen he wished to save her, he foolishly, naively, had conducted thepolice to the very spot where they should have been kept away. It wasthe depth of his humiliation; Koupriane really pitied the reporter. 

"Come, don't blame yourself too much, " said he. "We would have foundNatacha without you; Gounsovski notified us that she was going to embarkin the Bay of Lachtka this evening with Priemkof. "

"Natacha with Priemkof!" exclaimed Rouletabille. "Natacha with the manwho introduced the two living bombs into her father's house! If she iswith him, Excellency, it is because she is his prisoner, and that alonewill be sufficient to prove her innocence. I thank the Heaven that hassent you here. "

Koupriane swallowed a glass of vodka, poured another after it, andfinally deigned to translate his thought:

"Natacha is the friend of these precious men and we will see themdisembark hand in hand. "

"Your men, then, haven't studied the traces of the struggle that 'theseprecious men' have had on the banks of the Neva before they carried awayNatacha?"

"Oh, they haven't been hoodwinked. As a matter of fact, the struggle wasquite too visible not to have been done for appearances' sake. What achild you are! Can't you see that Natacha's presence in the datchahad become quite too dangerous for that charming young girl after thepoisoning of her father and step-mother failed and at the moment whenher comrades were preparing to send General Trebassof a pleasant littlegift of dynamite? She arranged to get away and yet to appear kidnapped. It is too simple. "

Rouletabille raised his head. 

"There is something simpler still to imagine than the culpability ofNatacha. It is that Priemkof schemed to pour the poison into the flaskof vodka, saying to himself that if the poison didn't succeed at leastit would make the occasion for introducing his dynamite into the housein the pockets of the 'doctors' that they would go to find. "

Koupriane seized Rouletabille's wrist and threw some terrible words athim, looking into the depths of his eyes:

"It was not Priemkof who poured the poison, because there was no poisonin the flask. "

Rouletabille, as he heard this extraordinary declaration, rose, morestartled than he had ever been in the course of this startling campaign. 

If there was no poison in the flask, the poison must have been poureddirectly into the glasses by a person who was in the kiosk! Now, therewere only four persons in the kiosk: the two who were poisoned andNatacha and himself, Rouletabille. And that kiosk was so perfectlyisolated that it was impossible for any other persons than the four whowere there to pour poison upon the table. 

"But it is not possible!" he cried. 

"It is so possible that it is so. Pere Alexis dedared that there is nopoison in the flask, and I ought to tell you that an analysis I hadmade after his bears him out. There was no poison, either, in the smallbottle you took to Pere Alexis and into which you yourself had pouredthe contents of Natacha's glass and yours; no trace of poison exceptingin two of the four glasses, arsenate of soda was found only on thesoiled napkins of Trebassof and his wife and in the two glasses theydrank from. "

"Oh, that is horrible, " muttered the stupefied reporter; "that ishorrible, for then the poisoner must be either Natacha or me. "

"I have every confidence in you, " declared Koupriane with a great laughof satisfaction, striking him on the shoulder. "And I arrest Natacha, and you who love logic ought to be satisfied now. "

Rouletabille hadn't a word more to say. He sat down again and let hishead fall into his hands, like one sleep has seized. 

"Ah, our young girls; you don't know them. They are terrible, terrible!"said Koupriane, lighting a big cigar. "Much more terrible than the boys. In good families the boys still enjoy themselves; but the girls--theyread! It goes to their heads. They are ready for anything; they knowneither father nor mother. Ah, you are a child, you cannot comprehend. Two lovely eyes, a melancholy air, a soft, low voice, and you arecaptured--you believe you have before you simply an inoffensive, goodlittle girl. Well, Rouletabille, here is what I will tell you foryour instruction. There was the time of the Tchipoff attack; therevolutionaries who were assigned to kill Tchipoff were disguised ascoachmen and footmen. Everything had been carefully prepared and it wouldseem that no one could have discovered the bombs in the place they hadbeen stored. Well, do you know the place where those bombs were found?In the rooms of the governor, of Wladmir's daughter! Exactly, my littlefriend, just there! The rooms of the governor's daughter, MademoiselleAlexeieiv. Ah, these young girls! Besides, it was this same MademoiselleAlexeieiv who, so prettily, pierced the brain of an honest Swissmerchant who had the misfortune to resemble one of our ministers. Ifwe had hanged that charming young girl earlier, my dear MonsieurRouletabille, that last catastrophe might have been avoided. A good ropearound the neck of all these little females--it is the only way, theonly way!"

A man entered. Rouletabille recognized the driver of the telega. Therewere some rapid words between the Chief and the agent. The man closedthe shutters of the room, but through the interstices they would beable to see what went on outside. Then the agent left; Koupriane, as hepushed aside the table that was near the window, said to the reporter:

"You had better come to the window; my man has just told me the boatis drawing near. You can watch an interesting sight. We are sure thatNatacha is still aboard. The yacht, after the explosion at the datcha, took up two men who put off to it in a canoe, and since then it hassimply sailed back and forth in the gulf. We have taken our precautionsin Finland the same as here and it is here they are going to try todisembark. Keep an eye on them. "

Koupriane was at his post of observation. Evening slowly fell. The skywas growing grayish-black, a tint that blended with the slate-coloredsea. To those on the bank, the sound of the men about to die came softlyacross the water. There was a sail far out. Between the strand and thetouba where Koupriane watched, was a ridge, a window, which, however, did not hide the shore or the bay from the prefect of police, because atthe height where he was his glance passed at an angle above it. But fromthe sea this ridge entirely hid anyone who lay in ambush behind it. Thereporter watched fifty moujiks flat on their stomachs crawling up theridge, behind two of their number whose heads alone topped the ridge. In the line of gaze taken by those two heads was the white sail, loomingmuch larger now. The yacht was heeled in the water and glided with realelegance, heading straight on. Suddenly, just when they supposed she wascoming straight to shore, the sails fell and a canoe was dropped overthe side. Four men got into it; then a woman jumped lightly downa little gangway into the canoe. It was Natacha. Koupriane had nodifficulty in recognizing her through the gathering darkness. 

"Ah, my dear Monsieur Rouletabille, " said he, "see your prisoner of theNihilists. Notice how she is bound. Her thongs certainly are causing hergreat pain. These revolutionaries surely are brutes!"

The truth was that Natacha had gone quite readily to the rudder andwhile the others rowed she steered the light boat to the place on thebeach that had been pointed out to her. Soon the prow of the canoetouched the sands. There did not seem to be a soul about, and that wasthe conclusion the men in the canoe who stood up looking around, seemedto reach. They jumped out, and then it was Natacha's turn. She acceptedthe hand held out to her, talking pleasantly with the men all the time. She even turned to press the hand of one of them. The group came upacross the beach. All this time the watchers in the little eating-housecould see the false moujiks, who had wriggled on their stomachs to thevery edge of the ridge, holding themselves ready to spring. 

Behind his shutter, Koupriane could not restrain an exclamation oftriumph; he gradually identified some of the figures in the group, andmuttered:

"Eh! eh! There is Priemkof himself and the others. Gounsovski is rightand he certainly is well-informed; his system is decidedly a good one. What a net-full!"

He hardly breathed as he watched the outcome. He could discernelsewhere, beside the bay, flat on the ground, concealed by theslightest elevation of the soil, other false moujiks. The wood ofSestroriesk was watched in the same way. The group of revolutionarieswho strolled behind Natacha stopped to confer. In three--maybetwo--minutes, they would be surrounded--cut off, taken in the trap. Suddenly a gunshot sounded in the night, and the group, with startledspeed, turned in their tracks and made silently for the sea, while fromall directions poured the concealed agents and threw themselves intothe pursuit, jostling each other and crying after the fugitives. But thecries became cries of rage, for the group of revolutionaries gained thebeach. They saw Natacha, who was held up by Priemkof himself, reject theaid of the Nihilist, who did not wish to abandon her, in order that hemight save himself. She made him go and seeing that she was going tobe taken, stopped short and waited for the enemy stoically, with foldedarms. Meanwhile, her three companions succeeded in throwing themselvesinto the canoe and plied the oars hard while Koupriane's men, in thewater up to their chests, discharged their revolvers at the fugitives. The men in the canoe, fearing to wound Natacha, made no reply to thefiring. The yacht had sails up by the time they drew alongside, andmade off like a bird toward the mysterious fords of Finland, audaciouslyhoisting the black flag of the Revolution. 

Meantime, Koupriane's agents, trembling before his anger, gathered atthe eating-house. The Prefect of Police let his fury loose on them andtreated them like the most infamous of animals. The capture of Natachawas little comfort. He had planned for the whole bag, and his men'sstupidity took away all his self-control. If he had had a whip at handhe would have found prompt solace for his mined hopes. Natacha, standingin a corner, with her face singularly calm, watched this extraordinaryscene that was like a menagerie in which the tamer himself had becomea wild beast. From another corner, Rouletabille kept his eyes fixed onNatacha who ignored him. Ah, that girl, sphinx to them all! Even to himwho thought a while ago that he could read things invisible to othervulgar men in her features, in her eyes! The impassive face of that girlwhose father they had tried to assassinate only a few hours before andwho had just pressed the hand of Priemkof, the assassin! Once she turnedher head slightly toward Rouletabille. The reporter then looked towardsher with increased eagerness, his eyes burning, as though he would say:"Surely, Natacha, you are not the accomplice of your father's assassins;surely it was not you who poured the poison!"

But Natacha's glance passed the reporter coldly over. Ah, thatmysterious, cold mask, the mouth with its bitter, impudent smile, anatrocious smile which seemed to say to the reporter: "If it is not I whopoured the poison, then it is you!"

It was the visage common enough to the daughters whom Koupriane hadspoken of a little while before, "the young girls who read" and, theirreading done, set themselves to accomplish some terrible thing, something because of which, from time to time, they place stiff ropes aroundthe necks of these young females. 

Finally, Koupriane's frenzy wore itself out and he made a sign. The menfiled out in dismal silence. Two of them remained to guard Natacha. Fromoutside came the sounds of a carriage from Sestroriesk ready to conveythe girl to the Dungeons of Sts. Peter and Paul. A final gesture fromthe Prefect of Police and the rough bands of the two guards seized theprisoner's frail wrists. They hustled her along, thrust her outside, jamming her against the doorway, venting thus their anger at thereproaches of their chief. A few seconds later the carriage departed, not to stop until the fortress was reached with the tricklingtombs under the bed of the river where young girls about to die areconfined--who have read too much, without entirely understanding, asMonsieur Kropotkine says. 

Koupriane prepared to leave in turn. Rouletabille stopped him. 

"Excellency, I wish you to tell me why you have shown such anger to yourmen just now. "

"They are brute beasts, " cried the Chief of Police, quite beside himselfagain. "They have made me miss the biggest catch of my life. They threwthemselves on the group two minutes too early. Some of them fired a gunthat they took for the signal and that served to warn the Nihilists. But I will let them all rot in prison until I learn which one fired thatshot. "

"You needn't look far for that, " said Rouletabille. "I did it. "

"You! Then you must have gone outside the touba?"

"Yes, in order to warn them. But still I was a little late, since youdid take Natacha. "

Koupriane's eyes blazed. 

"You are their accomplice in all this, " he hurled at the reporter, "andI am going to the Tsar for permission to arrest you. "

"Hurry, then, Excellency, " replied the reporter coldly, "because theNihilists, who also think they have a little account to settle with me, may reach me before you. "

And he saluted. 

XV. "I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU"

At the hotel a note from Gounsovski: "Don't forget this time tocome to-morrow to have luncheon with me. Warmest regards from MadameGounsovski. " Then a horrible, sleepless night, shaken with echoes ofexplosions and the clamor of the wounded; and the solemn shade of PereAlexis, stretching out toward Rouletabille a phial of poison and saying, "Either Natacha or you!" Then, rising among the shades the bloody formof Michael Nikolaievitch the Innocent!

In the morning a note from the Marshal of the Court. 

Monsieur le Marechal had no particular good news, evidently, for interms quite without enthusiasm he invited the young man to luncheon forthat same day, rather early, at midday, as he wished to see him oncemore before he left for France. "I see, " said Rouletabille to himself;"Monsieur le Marechal pronounces my expulsion from the country"--and heforgot once more the Gounsovski luncheon. The meeting-place named wasthe great restaurant called the Bear. Rouletabille entered it promptlyat noon. He asked the schwitzar if the Grand Marshal of the Court hadarrived, and was told no one had seen him yet. They conducted him tothe huge main hall, where, however, there was only one person. This man, standing before the table spread with zakouskis, was stuffing himself. At the sound of Rouletabille's step on the floor this sole famishedpatron turned and lifted his hands to heaven as he recognized thereporter. The latter would have given all the roubles in his pocket tohave avoided the recognition. But he was already face to face withthe advocate so celebrated for his table-feats, the amiable AthanaseGeorgevitch, his head swathed in bandages and dressings from the midstof which one could perceive distinctly only the eyes and, above all, themouth. 

"How goes it, little friend?"

"How are you?"

"Oh, I! There is nothing the matter. In a week we shall have forgottenit. "

"What a terrible affair, " said the reporter, "I certainly believed wewere all dead men. "

"No, no. It was nothing. Nitchevo!"

"And poor Thaddeus Tchitchnikoff with his two poor legs broken!"

"Eh! Nitchevo! He has plenty of good solid splints that will make himtwo good legs again. Nitchevo! Don't you think anything more about that!It is nothing. You have come here to dine? A very celebrated house this. Caracho!" He busied himself to do the honors. One would have said therestaurant belonged to him. He boasted of its architecture and thecuisine "a la Francaise. "

"Do you know, " he inquired confidently, "a finer restaurant roomanywhere in the world?"

In fact, it seemed to Rouletabille as he looked up into the high glassarch that he was in a railway station decorated for some illustrioustraveler, for there were flowers and plants everywhere. But the visitorwhom the ball awaited was the Russian eater, the ogre who never failedto come to eat at The Bear. Pointing out the lines of tables shiningwith their white cloths and bright silver, Athanase Georgevitch, withhis mouth full, said:

"Ah, my dear little French monsieur, you should see it at supper-time, with the women, and the jewels, and the music. There is nothing inFrance that can give you any idea of it, nothing! The gayety--thechampagne--and the jewels, monsieur, worth millions and millions ofroubles! Our women wear them all--everything they have. They are deckedlike sacred shrines! All the family jewels--from the very bottom of thecaskets! it is magnificent, thoroughly Russian--Muscovite! What amI saying? It is Asiatic. Monsieur, in the evening, at a fete, we areAsiatic. Let me tell you something on the quiet. You notice that thisenormous dining hall is surrounded by those windowed balconies. Each ofthose windows belongs to a separate private room. Well, you see thatwindow there?--yes, there--that is the room of a grand duke--yes, he'sthe one I mean--a very gay grand duke. Do you know, one evening whenthere was a great crowd here--families, monsieur, family parties, high-born families--the window of that particular balcony was thrownopen, and a woman stark naked, as naked as my hand, monsieur, wasdropped into the dining-hall and ran across it full-speed. It was awager, monsieur, a wager of the jolly grand duke's, and the demoisellewon it. But what a scandal! Ah, don't speak of it; that would be verybad form. But--sufficiently Asiatic, eh? Truly Asiatic. And--somethingmuch more unfortunate--you see that table? It happened the Russian NewYear Eve, at supper. All the beauty, the whole capital, was here. Justat midnight the orchestra struck up the Bodje tsara krani* to inauguratethe joyful Russian New Year, and everybody stood up, according tocustom, and listened in silence, as loyal subjects should. Well, atthat table, accompanying his family, there was a young student, a finefellow, very correct, and in uniform. This unhappy young student, whohad risen like everybody else, to listen to the Bodje tsara krani, inadvertently placed his knee on a chair. Truly that is not a correctattitude, monsieur, but really it was no reason for killing him, wasit now? Certainly not. Well, a brute in uniform, an officer quiteimmaculately gotten-up, drew a revolver from his pocket and dischargedit at the student point-blank. You can imagine the scandal, for thestudent was dead! There were Paris journalists there, besides, who hadnever been there before, you see! Monsieur Gaston Leroux was at thatvery table. What a scandal! They had a regular battle. They brokecarafes over the head of the assassin--for he was neither more nor lessthan an assassin, a drinker of blood--an Asiatic. They picked up theassassin, who was bleeding all over, and carried him off to look afterhim. As to the dead man, he lay stretched out there under a table-cloth, waiting for the police--and those at the tables went on with theirdrinking. Isn't that Asiatic enough for you? Here, a naked woman; there, a corpse! And the jewels--and the champagne! What do you say to that?"

 * The Russian national anthem. 

"His Excellency the Grand Marshal of the Court is waiting for you, Monsieur. "

Rouletabille shook hands with Athanase Georgevitch, who returned tohis zakouskis, and followed the interpreter to the door of one ofthe private rooms. The high dignitary was there. With a charm in hispoliteness of which the high-born Russian possesses the secretover almost everybody else in the world, the Marshal intimated toRouletabille that he had incurred imperial displeasure. 

"You have been denounced by Koupriane, who holds you responsible for thechecks he has suffered in this affair. "

"Monsieur Koupriane is right, " replied Rouletabille, "and His Majestyshould believe him, since it is the truth. But don't fear anything fromme, Monsieur le Grand Marechal, for I shall not inconvenience MonsieurKoupriane any further, nor anybody else. I shall disappear. "

"I believe Koupriane is already directed to vise your passport. "

"He is very good, and he does himself much harm. "

"All that is a little your fault, Monsieur Rouletabille. We believed wecould consider you as a friend, and you have never failed, it appears, on each occasion to give your help to our enemies. 

"Who says that?"

"Koupriane. Oh, it is necessary to be one with us. And you are not onewith us. And if you are not for us you are against us. You understandthat, I think. That is the way it has to be. The Terrorists havereturned to the methods of the Nihilists, who succeeded altogethertoo well against Alexander II. When I tell you that they succeeded inplacing their messages even in the imperial palace. .. "

"Yes, yes, " said Rouletabille, vaguely, as though he were alreadyfar removed from the contingencies of this world. "I know that CzarAlexander II sometimes found under his napkin a letter announcing hiscondemnation to death. "

"Monsieur, at the Chateau yesterday morning something happened that isperhaps more alarming than the letter found by Alexander II under hisnapkin. "

"What can it be? Have bombs been discovered?"

"No. It is a bizarre occurrence and almost unbelievable. The eiderdowns, all the eider down coverings belonging to the imperialfamily disappeared yesterday morning. "*

 * Historically authentic. 

"Surely not!"

"It is just as I say. And it was impossible to learn what had becomeof them--until yesterday evening, when they were found again in theirproper places in the chambers. That is the new mystery!"

"Certainly. But how were they taken out?"

"Shall we ever know? All we found was two feathers, this morning, inthe boudoir of the Empress, which leads us to think that the eider downswere taken out that way. I am taking the two feathers to Koupriane. "

"Let me see them, " asked the reporter. 

Rouletabille looked them over and handed them back. 

"And what do you think the whole affair means?"

"We are inclined to regard it as a threat by the revolutionaries. Ifthey can carry away the eider downs, it would be quite as easy for themto carry away. .. "

"The Imperial family? No, I don't think it is that. "

"What do you mean, then?"

"I? Nothing any more. Not only do I not think any more, but I don't wishto. Tell me, Monsieur le Grand Marechal, it is useless, I suppose, totry to see His Majesty before I go?"

"What good would it do, monsieur? We know everything now. This Natachathat you defended against Koupriane is proved the culprit. The lastaffair does not leave that in any reasonable doubt. And she is takencare of from this time on. His Majesty wishes never to hear Natachaspoken of again under any pretext. "

"And what are you going to do with that young girl?"

"The Tsar has decided that there shall not be any trial and that thedaughter of General Trebassof shall be sent, by administrative order, to Siberia. The Tsar, monsieur, is very good, for he might have had herhanged. She deserved it. "

"Yes, yes, the Tsar is very good. "

"You are very absorbed, Monsieur Rouletabille, and you are not eating. "

"I have no appetite, Monsieur le Marechal. Tell me, --the Emperor must berather bored at Tsarskoie-Coelo?"

"Oh, he has plenty of work. He rises at seven o'clock and has a lightEnglish luncheon--tea and toast. At eight o'clock he starts and workstill ten. From ten to eleven he promenades. "

"In the jail-yard?" asked Rouletabille innocently. 

"What's that you say? Ah, you are an enfant terrible! Certainly we dowell to send you away. Until eleven he promenades in a pathway of thepark. From eleven to one he holds audience; luncheon at one; then hespends the time until half-past two with his family. "

"What does he eat?"

"Soup. His Majesty is wonderfully fond of soup. He takes it at everymeal. After luncheon he smokes, but never a cigar--always cigarettes, gifts of the Sultan; and he only drinks one liqueur, Maraschino. Athalf-past two he goes out again for a little air--always in his park;then he sets himself to work until eight o'clock. It is simply frightfulwork, with heaps of useless papers and numberless signatures. Nosecretary can spare him that ungrateful bureaucratic duty. He must sign, sign, sign, and read, read, read the reports. And it is work without anybeginning or end; as soon as some reports go, others arrive. At eighto'clock, dinner, and then more signatures, working right up to eleveno'clock. At eleven o'clock he goes to bed. "

"And he sleeps to the rhythmical tramp of the guards on patrol, " addedRouletabille, bluntly. 

"O young man, young man!"

"Pardon me, Monsieur le Grand Marechal, " said the reporter, rising; "Iam, indeed, a disturbing spirit and I know that I have nothing moreto do in this country. You will not see me any more, Monsieur le GrandMarechal; but before leaving I ought to tell you how much I have beentouched by the hospitality of your great nation. That hospitality issometimes a little dangerous, but it is always magnificent. No othernation in the world knows like the Russians how to receive a man, YourExcellency. I speak as I feel; and that isn't affected by my manner ofquitting you, for you know also how to put a man to the door. Adieu, then; without any rancor. My most respectful homage to His Majesty. Ah, just one word more! You will recall that Natacha Feodorovna was engagedto poor Boris Mourazoff, still another young man who has disappeared andwho, before disappearing, charged me to deliver to General Trebassof'sdaughter this last token--these two little ikons. I entrust you withthis mission, Monsieur le Grand Marechal. Your servant, Excellency. "

Rouletabille re-descended the great Kaniouche. "Now, " said he tohimself, "it is my turn to buy farewell presents. " And he made hisway slowly across la Place des Grandes-Ecuries and the bridge of theKatharine canal. He entered Aptiekarski-Pereoulok and pushed open PereAlexis's door, under the arch, at the back of the obscure court. 

"Health and prosperity, Alexis Hutch!"

"Ah, you again, little man! Well? Koupriane has let you know the resultof my analyses?"

"Yes, yes. Tell me, Alexis Hutch, you are sure you are not mistaken? Youdon't think you might be mistaken? Think carefully before you answer. Itis a question of life or death. "

"For whom?"

"For me. "

"For you, good little friend! You want to make your old Pere lexislaugh--or weep!"

"Answer me. "

"No, I couldn't be mistaken. The thing is as certain as that we two arehere--arsenate of soda in the stains on the two napkins and traces ofarsenate of soda in two of the four glasses; none in the carafe, nonein the little bottle, none in the two glasses. I say it before you andbefore God. "

"So it is really true. Thank you, Alexis Hutch. Koupriane has not triedto deceive me. There has been nothing of that sort. Well, do you know, Alexis Hutch, who has poured the poison? It is she or I. And as it isnot I, it is she. And since it is she, well, I am going to die!"

"You love her, then?" inquired Pere Alexis. 

"No, " replied Rouletabille, with a self-mocking smile. "No, I don't loveher. But if it is she who poured the poison, then it was not MichaelNikolaievitch, and it is I who had Michael Nikolaievitch killed. You cansee now that therefore I must die. Show me your finest images. 

"Ah, my little one, if you will permit your old Alexis to make you agift, I would offer you these two poor ikons that are certainly from theconvent of Troitza at its best period. See how beautiful they are, andold. Have you ever seen so beautiful a Mother of God? And this St. Luke, would you believe that the hand had been mended, eh? Two littlemasterpieces, little friend! If the old masters of Salonika returned tothe world they would be satisfied with their pupils at Troitza. But youmustn't kill yourself at your age!"

"Come, bat ouclzka (little father), I accept your gift, and, if I meetthe old Salonican masters on the road I am going to travel, I shan'tfail to tell them there is no person here below who appreciates themlike a certain pere of Aptiekarski-Pereoulok, Alexis Hutch. "

So saying Rouletabille wrapped up the two little ikons and put themin his pocket. The Saint Luke would be sure to appeal to his friendSainclair. As to the Mother of God, that would be his dying gift to theDame en noir. 

"Ah, you are sad, little son; and your voice, as it sounds now, hurtsme. "

Rouletabille turned his head at the sound of two moujiks who entered, carrying a long basket. 

"What do you want?" demanded Pere Alexis in Russian, "and what is thatyou are bringing in? Do you intend to fill that huge basket with mygoods? In that case you are very welcome and I am your humble servant. "

But the two chuckled. 

"Yes, yes, we have come to rid your shop of a wretched piece of goodsthat litters it. "

"What is this you say?" inquired the old man, anxiously, and drawingnear Rouletabille. "Little friend, watch these men; I don't recognizetheir faces and I can't understand why they have come here. "

Rouletabille looked at the new-comers, who drew near the counter, afterdepositing their long basket close to the door. There was a sarcasticand malicious mocking way about them that struck him from the first. Butwhile they kept up their jabbering with Pere Alexis he filled his pipeand proceeded to light it. Just then the door was pushed open again andthree men entered, simply dressed, like respectable small merchants. They also acted curiously and looked all around the shop. Pere Alexisgrew more and more alarmed and the others pulled rudely at his beard. 

"I believe these men here have come to rob me, " he cried in French. "What do you say, my son?--Shall I call the police?"

"Hold on, " replied Rouletabille impassively. "They are all armed; theyhave revolvers in their pockets. "

Pere Alexis's teeth commenced to chatter. As he tried to get nearthe door he was roughly pushed back and a final personage entered, apparently a gentleman, and dressed as such, save that he wore a visoredleather cap. 

"Ah, " said he at once in French, "why, it is the young French journalistof the Grand-Morskaia Hotel. Salutations and your good health! I seewith pleasure that you also appreciate the counsels of our dear PereAlexis. "

"Don't listen to him, little friend; I don't know him, " cried AlexisHutch. 

But the gentleman of the Neva went on:

"He is a man close to the first principles of science, and therefore notfar from divine; he is a holy man, whom it is good to consult at momentswhen the future appears difficult. He knows how to read as no one elsecan--Father John of Cronstadt excepted, to be strictly accurate--on thesheets of bull-hide where the dark angels have traced mysterious signsof destiny. "

Here the gentleman picked up an old pair of boots, which he threw on thecounter in the midst of the ikons. 

"Pere Alexis, perhaps these are not bull-hide, but good enough cow-hide. Don't you want to read on this cow-hide the future of this young man?"

But here Rouletabille advanced to the gentleman, and blew an enormouscloud of smoke full in his face. 

"It is useless, monsieur, " said Rouletabille, "to waste your time andyour breath. I have been waiting for you. "

XVI. BEFORE THE REVOLUTIONARY TRIBUNAL

Only, Rouletabille refused to be put into the basket. He would not letthem disarm him until they promised to call a carriage. The Vehiclerolled into the court, and while Pere Alexis was kept back in his shopat the point of a revolver, Rouletabille quietly got in, smoking hispipe. The man who appeared to be the chief of the band (the gentleman ofthe Neva) got in too and sat down beside him. The carriage windows wereshuttered, preventing all communication with the outside, and only atiny lantern lighted the interior. They started. The carriage was drivenby two men in brown coats trimmed with false astrakhan. The dvornickssaluted, believing it a police affair. The concierge made the sign ofthe cross. 

The journey lasted several hours without other incidents than thosebrought about by the tremendous jolts, which threw the two passengersinside one on top of the other. This might have made an opening forconversation; and the "gentleman of the Neva" tried it; but in vain. Rouletabille would not respond. At one moment, indeed, the gentleman, who was growing bored, became so pressing that the reporter finally saidin the curt tone he always used when he was irritated:

"I pray you, monsieur, let me smoke my pipe in peace. "

Upon which the gentleman prudently occupied himself in lowering one ofthe windows, for it grew stifling. 

Finally, after much jolting, there was a stop while the horseswere changed and the gentleman asked Rouletabille to let himself beblindfolded. "The moment has come; they are going to hang me withoutany form of trial, " thought the reporter, and when, blinded with thebandage, he felt himself lifted under the arms, there was revolt of hiswhole being, that being which, now that it was on the point of dying, did not wish to cease. Rouletabille would have believed himselfstronger, more courageous, more stoical at least. But blind instinctswept all of this away, that instinct of conservation which had noconcern with the minor bravadoes of the reporter, no concern with thefine heroic manner, of the determined pose to die finely, becausethe instinct of conservation, which is, as its rigid name indicates, essentially materialistic, demands only, thinks of nothing but, to live. And it was that instinct which made Rouletabille's last pipe die outunpuffed. 

The young man was furious with himself, and he grew pale with the fearthat he might not succeed in mastering this emotion, he took fiercehold of himself and his members, which had stiffened at the contactof seizure by rough hands, relaxed, and he allowed himself to be led. Truly, he was disgusted with his faintness and weakness. He had seen mendie who knew they were going to die. His task as reporter had led himmore than once to the foot of the guillotine. And the wretches he hadseen there had died bravely. Extraordinarily enough, the most criminalhad ordinarily met death most bravely. Of course, they had had leisureto prepare themselves, thinking a long time in advance of that suprememoment. But they affronted death, came to it almost negligently, foundstrength even to say banal or taunting things to those around them. Herecalled above all a boy of eighteen years old who had cowardly murderedan old woman and two children in a back-country farm, and had walked tohis death without a tremor, talking reassuringly to the priest and thepolice official, who walked almost sick with horror on either side ofhim. Could he, then, not be as brave as that child?

They made him mount some steps and he felt that he had entered thestuffy atmosphere of a closed room. Then someone removed the bandage. He was in a room of sinister aspect and in the midst of a rather largecompany. 

Within these naked, neglected walls there were about thirty young men, some of them apparently quite as young as Rouletabille, with candid blueeyes and pale complexions. The others, older men, were of the physicaltype of Christs, not the animated Christs of Occidental painters, butthose that are seen on the panels of the Byzantine school or fastened onthe ikons, sculptures of silver or gold. Their long hair, deeply partedin the middle, fell upon their shoulders in curl-tipped golden masses. Some leant against the wall, erect, and motionless. Others were seatedon the floor, their legs crossed. Most of them were in winter coats, bought in the bazaars. But there were also men from the country, withtheir skins of beasts, their sayons, their touloupes. One of them hadhis legs laced about with cords and was shod with twined willow twigs. The contrast afforded by various ones of these grave and attentivefigures showed that representatives from the entire revolutionary partywere present. At the back of the room, behind a table, three young menwere seated, and the oldest of them was not more than twenty-five andhad the benign beauty of Jesus on feast-days, canopied by consecratedpalms. 

In the center of the room a small table stood, quite bare and withoutany apparent purpose. 

On the right was another table with paper, pens and ink-stands. It wasthere that Rouletabille was conducted and asked to be seated. Then hesaw that another man was at his side, who was required to keep standing. His face was pale and desperate, very drawn. His eyes burned somberly, in spite of the panic that deformed his features Rouletabille recognizedone of the unintroduced friends whom Gounsovski had brought with him tothe supper at Krestowsky. Evidently since then the always-threateningmisfortune had fallen upon him. They were proceeding with his trial. Theone who seemed to preside over these strange sessions pronounced a name:

"Annouchka!"

A door opened, and Annouchka appeared. 

Rouletabille hardly recognized her, she was so strangely dressed, like the Russian poor, with her under-jacket of red-flannel and thehandkerchief which, knotted under her chin, covered all her beautifulhair. 

She immediately testified in Russian against the man, who protesteduntil they compelled him to be silent. She drew from her pocket paperswhich were read aloud, and which appeared to crush the accused. Hefell back onto his seat. He shivered. He hid his head in his hands, andRouletabille saw the hands tremble. The man kept that position whilethe other witnesses were heard, their testimony arousing murmurs ofindignation that were quickly checked. Annouchka had gone to take herplace with the others against the wall, in the shadows which more andmore invaded the room, at this ending of a lugubrious day. Two windowsreaching to the floor let a wan light creep with difficulty throughtheir dirty panes, making a vague twilight in the room. Soon nothingcould be seen of the motionless figures against the wall, much as thefaces fade in the frescoes from which the centuries have effaced thecolors in the depths of orthodox convents. 

Now someone from the depths of the shadow and the appalling silence readsomething; the verdict, doubtless. 

The voice ceased. 

Then some of the figures detached themselves from the wall and advanced. 

The man who crouched near Rouletabille rose in a savage bound and criedout rapidly, wild words, supplicating words, menacing words. 

And then--nothing more but strangling gasps. The figures that had movedout from the wall had clutched his throat. 

The reporter said, "It is cowardly. "

Annouchka's voice, low, from the depths of shadow, replied, "It isjust. "

But Rouletabille was satisfied with having said that, for he had provedto himself that he could still speak. His emotion had been such, sincethey had pushed him into the center of this sinister and expeditiousrevolutionary assembly of justice, that he thought of nothing but theterror of not being able to speak to them, to say something to them, nomatter what, which would prove to them that he had no fear. Well, thatwas over. He had not failed to say, "That is cowardly. "

And he crossed his arms. But he soon bad to turn away his head in ordernot to see the use the table was put to that stood in the center of theroom, where it had seemed to serve no purpose. 

They had lifted the man, still struggling, up onto the little table. They placed a rope about his neck. Then one of the "judges, " one of theblond young men, who seemed no older than Rouletabille, climbed on thetable and slipped the other end of the rope through a great ring-boltthat projected from a beam of the ceiling. During this time the manstruggled futilely, and his death-rattle rose at last though thecontinued noise of his resistance and its overcoming. But his lastbreath came with so violent a shake of the body that the wholedeath-apparatus, rope and ring-bolt, separated from the ceiling, androlled to the ground with the dead man. 

Rouletabille uttered a cry of horror. "You are assassins!" he cried. But was the man surely dead? It was this that the pale figures with theyellow hair set themselves to make sure of. He was. Then they broughttwo sacks and the dead man was slipped into one of them. 

Rouletabille said to them:

"You are braver when you kill by an explosion, you know. "

He regretted bitterly that he had not died the night before in theexplosion. He did not feel very brave. He talked to them bravely enough, but he trembled as his time approached. That death horrified him. Hetried to keep from looking at the other sack. He took the two ikons, of Saint Luke and of the Virgin, from his pocket and prayed to them. Hethought of the Lady in Black and wept. 

A voice in the shadows said:

"He is crying, the poor little fellow. "

It was Annouchka's voice. 

Rouletabille dried his tears and said:

"Messieurs, one of you must have a mother. "

But all the voices cried:

"No, no, we have mothers no more!"

"They have killed them, " cried some. "They have sent them to Siberia, "cried others. 

"Well, I have a mother still, " said the poor lad. "I will not have theopportunity to embrace her. It is a mother that I lost the day of mybirth and that I have found again, but--I suppose it is to be said--onthe day of my death. I shall not see her again. I have a friend; I shallnot see him again either. I have two little ikons here for them, and Iam going to write a letter to each of them, if you will permit it. Swearto me that you will see these reach them. "

"I swear it, " said, in French, the voice of Annouchka. 

"Thanks, madame, you are kind. And now, messieurs, that is all I ask ofyou. I know I am here to reply to very grave accusations. Permit meto say to you at once that I admit them all to be well founded. Consequently, there need be no discussion between us. I have deserveddeath and I accept it. So permit me not to concern myself with what willbe going on here. I ask of you simply, as a last favor, not to hastenyour preparations too much, so that I may be able to finish my letters. "

Upon which, satisfied with himself this time, he sat down again andcommenced to write rapidly. They left him in peace, as he desired. Hedid not raise his head once, even at the moment when a murmur louderthan usual showed that the hearers regarded Rouletabille's crimes withespecial detestation. He had the happiness of having entirely completedhis correspond once when they asked him to rise to hear judgmentpronounced upon him. The supreme communion that he had just had with hisfriend Sainclair and with the dear Lady in Black restored all his spiritto him. He listened respectfully to the sentence which condemned him todeath, though he was busy sliding his tongue along the gummed edge ofhis envelope. 

These were the counts on which he was to be hanged:

 1. Because he had come to Russia and mixed in affairs that did not concern his nationality, and had done this in spite of warning to remain in France. 

 2. Because he had not kept the promises of neutrality he freely made to a representative of the Central Revolutionary Committee. 

 3. For trying to penetrate the mystery of the Trebassof datcha. 

 4. For having Comrade Matiew whipped and imprisoned by Koupriane. 

 5. For having denounced to Koupriane the identity of the two "doctors" who had been assigned to kill General Trebassof. 

 6. For having caused the arrest of Natacha Feodorovna. 

It was a list longer than was needed for his doom. Rouletabille kissedhis ikons and handed them to Annouchka along with the letters. Thenhe declared, with his lips trembling slightly, and a cold sweat on hisforehead, that he was ready to submit to his fate. 

XVII. THE LAST CRAVAT

The gentleman of the Neva said to him: "If you have nothing further tosay, we will go into the courtyard. "

Rouletabille understood at last that hanging him in the room wherejudgment had been pronounced was rendered impossible by the violence ofthe prisoner just executed. Not only the rope and the ring-bolt had beentorn away, but part of the beam had splintered. 

"There is nothing more, " replied Rouletabille. 

He was mistaken. Something occurred to him, an idea flashed so suddenlythat he became white as his shirt, and had to lean on the arm of thegentleman of the Neva in order to accompany him. 

The door was open. All the men who had voted his death filed out ingloomy silence. The gentleman of the Neva, who seemed charged with thelast offices for the prisoner, pushed him gently out into the court. 

It was vast, and surrounded by a high board wall; some small buildings, with closed doors, stood to right and left. A high chimney, partiallydemolished, rose from one corner. Rouletabille decided the whole placewas part of some old abandoned mill. Above his head the sky was pale asa winding sheet. A thunderous, intermittent, rhythmical noise appraisedhim that he could not be far from the sea. 

He had plenty of time to note all these things, for they had stoppedthe march to execution a moment and had made him sit down in the opencourtyard on an old box. A few steps away from him under the shed wherehe certainly was going to be hanged, a man got upon a stool (the stoolthat would serve Rouletabille a few moments later) with his arm raised, and drove with a few blows of a mallet a great ring-bolt into a beamabove his head. 

The reporter's eyes, which had not lost their habit of taking everythingin, rested again on a coarse canvas sack that lay on the ground. Theyoung man felt a slight tremor, for he saw quickly that the sack swatheda human form. He turned his head away, but only to confront anotherempty sack that was intended for him. Then he closed his eyes. The soundof music came from somewhere outside, notes of the balalaika. He said tohimself, "Well, we certainly are in Finland"; for he knew that, if theguzla is Russian the balalaika certainly is Finnish. It is a kind ofaccordeon that the peasants pick plaintively in the doorways of theirtoubas. He had seen and heard them the afternoon that he went toPergalovo, and also a little further away, on the Viborg line. Hepictured to himself the ruined structure where he now found himself shutin with the revolutionary tribunal, as it must appear from the outsideto passers-by; unsinister, like many others near it, sheltering underits decaying roof a few homes of humble workers, resting now as theyplayed the balalaika at their thresholds, with the day's labor over. 

And suddenly from the ineffable peace of his last evening, while thebalalaika mourned and the man overhead tested the solidity of hisring-bolt, a voice outside, the grave, deep voice of Annouchka, sang forthe little Frenchman:

 "For whom weave we now the crown Of lilac, rose and thyme? When my hand falls lingering down Who then will bring your crown Of lilac, rose and thyme?

 O that someone among you would hear, And come, and my lonely hand Would press, and shed the friendly tear-- For alone at the end I stand. 

 Who now will bring the crown Of lilac, rose and thyme?"

Rouletabille listened to the voice dying away with the last sob of thebalalaika. "It is too sad, " he said, rising. "Let us go, " and he wavereda little. 

They came to search him. All was ready above. They pushed him gentlytowards the shed. When he was under the ring-bolt, near the stool, theymade him turn round and they read him something in Russian, doubtlessless for him than for those there who did not understand French. Rouletabille had hard work to hold himself erect. 

The gentleman of the Neva said to him further:

"Monsieur, we now read you the final formula. It asks you to saywhether, before you die, you have anything you wish to add to what weknow concerning the sentence which has been passed upon you. "

Rouletabille thought that his saliva, which at that moment he had thegreatest difficulty in swallowing, would not permit him to utter a word. But disdain of such a weakness, when he recalled the coolness of so manyillustrious condemned people in their last moments, brought him the laststrength needed to maintain his reputation. 

"Why, " said he, "this sentence is not wrongly drawn up. I blame itonly for being too short. Why has there been no mention of the crime Icommitted in contriving the tragic death of poor Michael Korsakoff?"

"Michael Korsakoff was a wretch, " pronounced the vindictive voice of theyoung man who had presided at the trial and who, at this supreme moment, happened to be face to face with Rouletabille. "Koupriane's police, bykilling that man, ridded us of a traitor. "

Rouletabille uttered a cry, a cry of joy, and while he had some reasonfor believing that at the point he had reached now of his too-shortcareer only misfortune could befall him, yet here Providence, in hisinfinite grace, sent him before he died this ineffable consolation: thecertainty that he had not been mistaken. 

"Pardon, pardon, " he murmured, in an excess of joy which stifled himalmost as much as the wretched rope would shortly do that they weregetting ready behind him. "Pardon. One second yet, one little second. Then, messieurs, then, we are agreed in that, are we? This Michael, Michael Nikolaievitch was the the last of traitors. "

"The first, " said the heavy voice. 

"It is the same thing, my dear monsieur. A traitor, a wretched traitor, "continued Rouletabille. 

"A poisoner, " replied the voice. 

"A vulgar poisoner! Is that not so? But, tell me how--a vulgar poisonerwho, under cover of Nihilism, worked for his own petty ends, worked forhimself and betrayed you all!"

Now Rouletabille's voice rose like a fanfare. Someone said:

"He did not deceive us long; our enemies themselves undertook hispunishment. "

"It was I, " cried Rouletabille, radiant again. "It was I who wound upthat career. I tell you that was managed right. It was I who rid you ofhim. Ah, I knew well enough, messieurs, in the bottom of my heart I knewthat I could not be mistaken. Two and two make four always, don't they?And Rouletabille is always Rouletabille. Messieurs, it is all right, after all. "

But it was probable that it was also all wrong, for the gentleman of theNeva came up to him hat in hand and said:

"Monsieur, you know now why the witnesses at your trial did not raise afact against you that, on the contrary, was entirely in your favor. Now it only remains for us to execute the sentence which is entirelyjustified on other grounds. "

"Ah, but--wait a little. What the devil! Now that I am sure I have notbeen mistaken and that I have been myself, Rouletabille, all the time Icling to life a little--oh, very much!"

A hostile murmur showed the condemned man that the patience of hisjudges was getting near its limit. 

"Monsieur, " interposed the president, "we know that you do not belong tothe orthodox religion; nevertheless, we will bring a priest if you wishit. "

"Yes, yes, that is it, go for the priest, " cried Rouletabille. 

And he said to himself, "It is so much time gained. "

One of the revolutionaries started over to a little cabin that had beentransformed into a chapel, while the rest of them looked at the reporterwith a good deal less sympathy than they had been showing. If hisbravado had impressed them agreeably in the trial room, they werebeginning to be rather disgusted by his cries, his protestations and allthe maneuvers by which he so apparently was trying to hold off the hourof his death. 

But all at once Rouletabille jumped up onto the fatal stool. Theybelieved he had decided finally to make an end of the comedy and diewith dignity; but he had mounted there only to give them a discourse. 

"Messieurs, understand me now. If it is true that you are notsuppressing me in order to avenge Michael Nikolaievitch, then why do youhang me? Why do you inflict this odious punishment on me? Because youaccuse me of causing Natacha Feodorovna's arrest? Truly I have beenawkward. Of that, and that alone, I accuse myself. "

"It was you, with your revolver, who gave the signal to Koupriane'sagents! You have done the dirty work for the police. "

Rouletabille tried vainly to protest, to explain, to say that hisrevolver shot, on the contrary, had saved the revolutionaries. But noone cared to listen and no one believed him. 

"Here is the priest, monsieur, " said the gentleman of the Neva. 

"One second! These are my last words, and I swear to you that after thisI will pass the rope about my neck myself! But listen to me! Listen tome closely! Natacha Feodorovna was the most precious recruit you had, was she not?"

"A veritable treasure, " declared the president, his voice more and moreimpatient. 

"It was a terrible blow, then, " continued the reporter, "a terrible blowfor you, this arrest?"

"Terrible, " some of them ejaculated. 

"Do not interrupt me! Very well, then, I am going to say this to you:'If I ward off this blow--if, after having been the unintentional causeof Natacha's arrest, I have the daughter of General Trebassof set atliberty, and that within twenty-four hours, --what do you say? Would youstill hang me?'"

The president, he who had the Christ-like countenance, said:

"Messieurs, Natacha Feodorovna has fallen the victim of terriblemachinations whose mystery we so far have not been able to penetrate. She is accused of trying to poison her father and her step-mother, and under such conditions that it seems impossible for human reason todemonstrate the contrary. Natacha Feodorovna herself, crushed by thetragic occurrence, was not able to answer her accusers at all, and hersilence has been taken for a confession of guilt. Messieurs, NatachaFeodorovna will be started for Siberia to-morrow. We can do nothing forher. Natacha Feodorovna is lost to us. "

Then, with a gesture to those who surrounded Rouletabille:

"Do your duty, messieurs. "

"Pardon, pardon. But if I do prove the innocence of Natacha? Justwait, messieurs. There is only I who can prove that innocence! You loseNatacha by killing me!"

"If you had been able to prove that innocence, monsieur, the thing wouldalready be done. You would not have waited. "

"Pardon, pardon. It is only at this moment that I have become able to doit. "

"How is that?"

"It is because I was sick, you see--very seriously sick. That affair ofMichael Nikolaievitch and the poison that still continued after he wasdead simply robbed me of all my powers. Now that I am sure I have notbeen the means of killing an innocent man--I am Rouletabille again!It is not possible that I shall not find the way, that I shall not seethrough this mystery. "

The terrible voice of the Christ-like figure said monotonously:

"Do your duty, messieurs. "

"Pardon, pardon. This is of great importance to you--and the proof isthat you have not yet hanged me. You were not so procrastinating with mypredecessor, were you? You have listened to me because you have hoped!Very well, let me think, let me consider. Oh, the devil! I was theremyself at the fatal luncheon, and I know better than anyone else allthat happened there. Five minutes! I demand five minutes of you; it isnot much. Five little minutes!"

These last words of the condemned man seemed to singularly influence therevolutionaries. They looked at one another in silence. 

Then the president took out his watch and said:

"Five minutes. We grant them to you. "

"Put your watch here. Here on this nail. It is five minutes to seven, eh? You will give me until the hour?"

"Yes, until the hour. The watch itself will strike when the hour hascome. "

"Ah, it strikes! Like the general's watch, then. Very well, here weare. "

Then there was the curious spectacle of Rouletabille standing onthe hangman's stool, the fatal rope hanging above his head, his legscrossed, his elbow on his knees in that eternal attitude which Arthas always given to human thought, his fists under his jaws, his eyesfixed--all around him, all those young men intent on his silence, notmoving a muscle, turned into statues themselves that they might notdisturb the statue which thought and thought. 

XVIII. A SINGULAR EXPERIENCE

The five minutes ticked away and the watch commenced to strike thehour's seven strokes. Did it sound the death of Rouletabille? Perhapsnot! For at the first silver tinkle they saw Rouletabille shake himself, and raise his head, with his face alight and his eyes shining. They sawhim stand up, spread out his arms and cry:

"I have found it!"

Such joy shone in his countenance that there seemed to be an aureolearound him, and none of those there doubted that he had the solution ofthe impossible problem. 

"I have found it! I have found it!"

They gathered around him. He waved them away as in a waking dream. 

"Give me room. I have found it, if my experiment works out. One, two, three, four, five. .. "

What was he doing? He counted his steps now, in long paces, as indueling preliminaries. And the others, all of them, followed him insilence, puzzled, but without protest, as if they, too, were caught inthe same strange day-dream. Steadily counting his steps he crossedthus the court, which was vast. "Forty, forty-one, forty-two, " he criedexcitedly. "This is certainly strange, and very promising. "

The others, although they did not understand, reframed from questioninghim, for they saw there was nothing to do but let him go ahead withoutinterruption, just as care is taken not to wake a somnambulist abruptly. They had no mistrust of his motives, for the idea was simply untenablethat Rouletabille was fool enough to hope to save himself from them byan imbecile subterfuge. No, they yielded to the impression hisinspired countenance gave them, and several were so affected that theyunconsciously repeated his gestures. Thus Rouletabille reached the edgeof the court where judgment had been pronounced against him. There hehad to mount a rickety flight of stairs, whose steps he counted. Hereached a corridor, but moving away from the side where the door wasopening to the exterior he turned toward a staircase leading to theupper floor, and still counted the steps as he climbed them. Some of thecompany followed him, others hurried ahead of him. But he did not seemaware of either the one or the other, as he walked along living onlyin his thoughts. He reached the landing-place, hesitated, pushed open adoor, and found himself in a room furnished with a table, two chairs, a mattress and a huge cupboard. He went to the cupboard, turned the keyand opened it. The cupboard was empty. He closed it again and put thekey in his pocket. Then he went out onto the landing-place again. Therehe asked for the key of the chamber-door he had just left. They gave itto him and he locked that door and put that key also in his pocket. Nowhe returned into the court. He asked for a chair. It was brought him. Immediately he placed his head in his hands, thinking hard, took thechair and carried it over a little behind the shed. The Nihilistswatched everything he did and they did not smile, because men do notsmile when death waits at the end of things, however foolish. 

Finally, Rouletabille spoke:

"Messieurs, " said he, his voice low and shaken, because he knew thatnow he touched the decisive minute, after which there could only be anirrevocable fate. "Messieurs, in order to continue my experiment I amobliged to go through movements that might suggest to you the idea of anattempt at escape, or evasion. I hope you don't regard me as fool enoughto have any such thought. "

"Oh, monsieur, " said the chief, "you are free to go through all themaneuvers you wish. No one escapes us. Outside we should have youwithin arm's reach quite as well as here. And, besides, it is entirelyimpossible to escape from here. "

"Very well. Then that is understood. In such a case, I ask you now toremain just where you are and not to budge, whatever I do, if you don'twish to inconvenience me. Only please send someone now up to the nextfloor, where I am going to go again, and let him watch what happens fromthere, but without interfering. And don't speak a word to me during theexperiment. "

Two of the revolutionaries went to the upper floor, and opened a windowin order to keep track of what went on in the court. All now showedtheir intense interest in the acts and gestures of Rouletabille. 

The reporter placed himself in the shed, between his death-stool and hishanging-rope. 

"Ready, " said he; "I am going to begin"

And suddenly he jumped like a wild man, crossed the court in a straightline like a flash, disappeared in the touba, bounded up the staircase, felt in his pocket and drew out the keys, opened the door of the chamberhe had locked, closed it and locked it again, turned right-about-face, came down again in the same haste, reached the court, and this timeswerved to the chair, went round it, still running, and returned at thesame speed to the shed. He no sooner reached there than he uttered a cryof triumph as he glanced at the watch banging from a post. "I have won, "he said, and threw himself with a happy thrill upon the fatal scaffold. They surrounded him, and he read the liveliest curiosity in all theirfaces. Panting still from his mad rush, he asked for two words apartwith the chief of the Secret committee. 

The man who had pronounced judgment and who had the bearing of Jesusadvanced, and there was a brief exchange of words between the twoyoung men. The others drew back and waited at a distance, in impressivesilence, the outcome of this mysterious colloquy, which certainly wouldsettle Rouletabille's fate. 

"Messieurs, " said the chief, "the young Frenchman is going to be allowedto leave. We give him twenty-four hours to set Natacha Feodorovna free. In twenty-four hours, if he has not succeeded, he will return here togive himself up. "

A happy murmur greeted these words. The moment their chief spoke thus, they felt sure of Natacha's fate. 

The chief added:

"As the liberation of Natacha Feodorovna will be followed, the youngFrenchman says, by that of our companion Matiew, we decide that, ifthese two conditions are fulfilled, M. Joseph Rouletabille is allowed toreturn in entire security to France, which he ought never to have left. "

Two or three only of the group said, "That lad is playing with us; it isnot possible. "

But the chief declared:

"Let the lad try. He accomplishes miracles. "

XIX. THE TSAR

"I have escaped by remarkable luck, " cried Rouletabille, as he foundhimself, in the middle of the night, at the corner of the Katharine andthe Aptiekarski Pereoulok Canals, while the mysterious carriage whichhad brought him there returned rapidly toward the Grande Ecurie. "What acountry! What a country!"

He ran a little way to the Grand Morskaia, which was near, entered thehotel like a bomb, dragged the interpreter from his bed, demanded thathis bill be made out and that he be told the time of the next train forTsarskoie-Coelo. The interpreter told him that he could not have hisbill at such an hour, that he could not leave town without his passportand that there was no train for Tsarskoie-Coelo, and Rouletabille madean outcry that woke the whole hotel. The guests, fearing always "unescandale, " kept close to their rooms. But Monsieur le directeur camedown, trembling. When he found all that it was about he was inclined tobe peremptory, but Rouletabille, who had seen "Michael Strogoff" played, cried, "Service of the Tsar!" which turned him submissive as a sheep. Hemade out the young man's bill and gave him his passport, which had beenbrought back by the police during the afternoon. Rouletabille rapidlywrote a message to Koupriane's address, which the messenger was directedto have delivered without a moment's delay, under the pain of death! Themanager humbly promised and the reporter did not explain that by "painof death" he referred to his own. Then, having ascertained that as amatter of fact the last train had left for Tsarskoie-Coelo, he ordered acarriage and hurried to his room to pack. 

And he, ordinarily so detailed, so particular in his affairs, threwthings every which way, linen, garments, with kicks and shoves. It wasa relief after the emotions he had gone through. "What a country!" henever ceased to ejaculate. "What a country!"

Then the carriage was ready, with two little Finnish horses, whose gaithe knew well, an evil-looking driver, who none the less would get himthere; the trunk; roubles to the domestics. "Spacibo, barine. Spacibo. "(Thank you, monsieur. Thank you. )

The interpreter asked what address he should give the driver. 

"The home of the Tsar. "

The interpreter hesitated, believing it to be an unbecoming pleasantry, then waved vaguely to the driver, and the horses started. 

"What a curious trot! We have no idea of that in France, " thoughtRouletabille. "France! France! Paris! Is it possible that soon I shallbe back! And that dear Lady in Black! Ah, at the first opportunity Imust send her a dispatch of my return--before she receives those ikons, and the letters announcing my death. Scan! Scan! Scan! (Hurry!)"

The isvotchick pounded his horses, crowding past the dvornicks whowatched at the corners of the houses during the St. Petersburg night. "Dirigi! dirigi! dirigi! (Look out!)"

The country, somber in the somber night. The vast open country. Whatmonotonous desolation! Rapidly, through the vast silent spaces, thelittle car glided over the lonely route into the black arms of thepines. 

Rouletabille, holding on to his seat, looked about him. 

"God! this is as sad as a funeral display. "

Little frozen huts, no larger than tombs, occasionally indicated theroad, but there was no mark of life in that country except the noise ofthe journey and the two beasts with steaming coats. 

Crack! One of the shafts broken. "What a country!" To hear Rouletabilleone would suppose that only in Russia could the shaft of a carriagebreak. 

The repair was difficult and crude, with bits of rope. And from thenon the journey was slow and cautious after the frenzied speed. In vainRouletabille reasoned with himself. "You will arrive anyway beforemorning. You cannot wake the Emperor in the dead of night. " Hisimpatience knew no reason. "What a country! What a country!"

After some other petty adventures (they ran into a ravine andhad tremendous difficulty rescuing the trunk) they arrived atTsarskoie-Coelo at a quarter of seven. 

Even here the country was not pleasant. Rouletabille recalled the brightawakening of French country. Here it seemed there was something moredead than death: it was this little city with its streets where no onepassed, not a soul, not a phantom, with its houses so impenetrable, the windows even of glazed glass and further blinded by the morninghoar-frost shutting out light more thoroughly than closed eyelids. Behind them he pictured to himself a world unknown, a world whichneither spoke nor wept, nor laughed, a world in which no living chordresounded. "What a country! 'Where is the chateau? I do not know; I havebeen here only once, in the marshal's carriage. I do not know the way. Not the great palace! The idiot of a driver has brought me to this greatpalace in order to see it, I haven't a doubt. Does Rouletabille looklike a tourist? Dourak! The home of the Tsar, I tell you. The Tsar'sresidence. The place where the Little Father lives. Chez Batouchka!"

The driver lashed his ponies. He drove past all the streets. "Stoi!(Stop!)" cried Rouletabille. A gate, a soldier, musket at shoulder, bayonet in play; another gate, another soldier, another bayonet; a parkwith walls around it, and around the walls more soldiers. 

"No mistake; here is the place, " thought Rouletabille. There was onlyone prisoner for whom such pains would be taken. He advanced towards thegate. Ah! They crossed bayonets under his nose. Halt! No fooling, JosephRouletabille, of "L'Epoque. " A subaltern came from a guard-house andadvanced toward him. Explanation evidently was going to be difficult. The young man saw that if he demanded to see the Tsar, they would thinkhim crazed and that would further complicate matters. He asked for theGrand-Marshal of the Court. They replied that he could get the Marshal'saddress in Tsarskoie. But the subaltern turned his head. He saw someoneadvancing. It was the Grand-Marshal himself. Some exceptional servicecalled him, without doubt, very early to the Court. 

"Why, what are you doing here? You are not yet gone then, MonsieurRoidetabille?"

"Politeness before everything, Monsieur le Grand-Marechal! I would notgo before saying 'Au revoir' to the Emperor. Be so good, since you aregoing to him and he has risen (you yourself have told me he rises atseven), be so good as to say to him that I wish to pay my respectsbefore leaving. "

"Your scheme, doubtless, is to speak to him once more regarding NatachaFeodorovna?"

"Not at all. Tell him, Excellency, that I am come to explain the mysteryof the eider downs. "

"Ah, ah, the eider downs! You know something?"

"I know all. "

The Grand Marshal saw that the young man did not pretend. He asked himto wait a few minutes, and vanished into the park. 

A quarter of an hour later, Joseph Rouletabille, of the journal"L'Epoque, " was admitted into the cabinet that he knew well from thefirst interview he had had there with His Majesty. The simple work-roomof a country-house: a few pictures on the walls, portraits of theTsarina and the imperial children on the table; Oriental cigarettes inthe tiny gold cups. Rouletabille was far from feeling any assurance, forthe Grand-Marshal had said to him:

"Be cautious. The Emperor is in a terrible humor about you. "

A door opened and closed. The Tsar made a sign to the Marshal, whodisappeared. Rouletabille bowed low, then watched the Emperor closely. 

Quite apparently His Majesty was displeased. The face of the Tsar, ordinarily so calm, so pleasant, and smiling, was severe, and his eyeshad an angry light. He seated himself and lighted a cigarette. 

"Monsieur, " he commenced, "I am not otherwise sorry to see you beforeyour departure in order to say to you myself that I am not at allpleased with you. If you were one of my subjects I would have alreadystarted you on the road to the Ural Mountains. "

"I remove myself farther, Sire. "

"Monsieur, I pray you not to interrupt me and not to speak unless I askyou a question. "

"Oh, pardon, Sire, pardon. "

"I am not duped by the pretext you have offered Monsieur leGrand-Marechal in order to penetrate here. "

"It is not a pretext, Sire. "

"Again!"

"Oh, pardon, Sire, pardon. "

"I say to you that, called here to aid me against my enemies, theythemselves have not found a stronger or more criminal support than inyou. "

"Of what am I accused, Sire?"

"Koupriane--"

"Ah! Ah! . .. Pardon!"

"My Chief of Police justly complains that you have traversed all hisdesigns and that you have taken it upon yourself to ruin them. First, you removed his agents, who inconvenienced you, it seems; then, themoment that he had the proof in hand of the abominable alliance ofNatacha Feodorovna with the Nihilists who attempt the assassination ofher father your intervention has permitted that proof to escape him. Andyou have boasted of the feat, monsieur, so that we can only consider youresponsible for the attempts that followed. 

"Without you, Natacha would not have attempted to poison her father. Without you, they would not have sent to find physicians who could blowup the datcha des Iles. Finally, no later than yesterday, when thisfaithful servant of mine had set a trap they could not have escapedfrom, you have had the audacity, you, to warn them of it. They owe theirescape to you. Monsieur, those are attempts against the security of theState which deserves the heaviest punishment. Why, you went out one dayfrom here promising me to save General Trebassof from all the plottingassassins who lurked about him. And then you play the game of theassassins! Your conduct is as miserable as that of Natacha Feodorovna ismonstrous!"

The Emperor ceased, and looked at Rouletabille, who had not lowered hiseyes. 

"What can you say for yourself? Speak--now. "

"I can only say to Your Majesty that I come to take leave of you becausemy task here is finished. I have promised you the life of GeneralTrebassof, and I bring it to you. He runs no danger any more! I sayfurther to Your Majesty that there exists nowhere in the world adaughter more devoted to her father, even to the death, a daughter moresublime than Natacha Feodorovna, nor more innocent. "

"Be careful, monsieur. I inform you that I have studied this affairpersonally and very closely. You have the proofs of these statements youadvance?"

"Yes, Sire. "

"And I, I have the proofs that Natacha Feodorovna is a renegade. "

At this contradiction, uttered in a firm voice, the Emperor stirred, a flush of anger and of outraged majesty in his face. But, after thisfirst movement, he succeeded in controlling himself, opened a drawerbrusquely, took out some papers and threw them on the table. 

"Here they are. "

Rouletabille reached for the papers. 

"You do not read Russian, monsieur. I will translate their purport foryou. Know, then, that there has been a mysterious exchange of lettersbetween Natacha Feodorovna and the Central Revolutionary Committee, and that these letters show the daughter of General Trebassof to be inperfect accord with the assassins of her father for the execution oftheir abominable project. "

"The death of the general?"

"I declare to Your Majesty that that is not possible. "

"Obstinate man! I will read--"

"Useless, Sire. It is impossible. There may be in them the question ofa project, but I am greatly surprised if these conspirators have beensufficiently imprudent to write in those letters that they count onNatacha to poison her father. "

"That, as a matter of fact, is not written, and you yourself areresponsible for it not being there. It does not follow any the less thatNatacha Feodorovna had an understanding with the Nihilists. "

"That is correct, Sire. "

"Ah, you confess that?"

"I do not confess; I simply affirm that Natacha had an understandingwith the Nihilists. "

"Who plotted their abominable attacks against the ex-Governor ofMoscow. "

"Sire, since Natacha had an understanding with the Nihilists, it was notto kill her father, but to save him. And the project of which you holdhere the proofs, but of whose character you are unaware, is to end theattacks of which you speak, instantly. "

"You say that. "

"I speak the truth, Sire. "

"Where are the proofs? Show me your papers. "

"I have none. I have only my word. "

"That is not sufficient. "

"It will be sufficient, once you have heard me. "

"I listen. "

"Sire, before revealing to you a secret on which depends the life ofGeneral Trebassof, you must permit me some questions. Your Majesty holdsthe life of the general very dear?"

"What has that to do with it?"

"Pardon. I desire that Your Majesty assure me on that point. "

"The general has protected my throne. He has saved the Empire from oneof the greatest dangers that it has ever run. If the servant who hasdone such a service should be rewarded by death, by the punishment thatthe enemies of my people prepare for him in the darkness, I should neverforgive myself. There have been too many martyrs already!"

"You have replied to me, Sire, in such a way that you make me understandthere is no sacrifice--even to the sacrifice of your amour-propre thegreatest a ruler can suffer--no sacrifice too dear to ransom from deathone of these martyrs. "

"Ah, ah! These gentlemen lay down conditions to me! Money. Money. Theyneed money. And at how much do they rate the head of the general?"

"Sire, that does not touch Your Majesty, and I never will come to offeryou such a bargain. That matter concerns only Natacha Feodorovna, whohas offered her fortune!"

"Her fortune! But she has nothing. "

"She will have one at the death of the general. Now she engages to giveit all to the Revolutionary Committee the day the general dies--if hedies a natural death!"

The Emperor rose, greatly agitated. 

"To the Revolutionary Party! What do you tell me! The fortune of thegeneral! Eh, but these are great riches. "

"Sire, I have told you the secret. You alone should know it and guard itforever, and I have your sacred word that, when the hour comes, you willlet the prize go where it is promised. If the general ever learns ofsuch a thing, such a treaty, he would easily arrange that nothing shouldremain, and he would denounce his daughter who has saved him, and thenhe would promptly he the prey of his enemies and yours, from whom youwish to save him. I have told the secret not to the Emperor, but to therepresentative of God on the Russian earth. I have confessed it to thepriest, who is bound to forget the words uttered only before God. AllowNatacha Feodorovna her own way, Sire! And her father, your servant, whose life is so dear to you, is saved. At the natural death of thegeneral his fortune will go to his daughter, who has disposed of it. "

Rouletabille stopped a moment to judge of the effect produced. It wasnot good. The face of his august listener was more and more in a frown. 

The silence continued, and now the reporter did not dare to break it. Hewaited. 

Finally, the Emperor rose and walked forward and backward across theroom, deep in thought. For a moment he stopped at the window and wavedpaternally to the little Tsarevitch, who played in the park with thegrand-duchesses. 

Then he returned to Rouletabille and pinched his ear. 

"But, tell me, how have you learned all this? And who then has poisonedthe general and his wife, in the kiosk, if not Natacha?"

"Natacha is a saint. It is nothing, Sire, that she has been raised inluxury, and vows' herself to misery; but it is sublime that she guardsin her heart the secret of her sacrifice from everyone, and, in spite ofall, because secrecy is necessary and has been required of her. See herguarding it before her father, who has been brought to believe in thedishonor of his daughter, and still to be silent when a word would haveproved her innocent; guarding it face to face with her fiance, whom sheloves, and repulses because marriage is forbidden to the girl who issupposed to be rich and who will be poor; guarding it, above all--andguarding it still--in the depths of the dungeon, and ready to take theroad to Siberia under the accusation of assassination, because thatignominy is necessary for the safety of her father. That, Sire--oh, Sire, do you see!"

"But you, how have you been able to penetrate into this guarded secret?"

"By watching her eyes. By observing, when she believed herself alone, the look of terror and the gleams of love. And, beyond all, by lookingat her when she was looking at her father. Ah, Sire, there were momentswhen on her mystic face one could read the wild joy and devotion of themartyr. Then, by listening and by piecing together scraps of phrasesinconsistent with the idea of treachery, but which immediately acquiredmeaning if one thought of the opposite, of sacrifice. Ah, that is it, Sire! Consider always the alternative motive. What I finally could seemyself, the others, who had a fixed opinion about Natacha, could notsee. And why had they their fixed opinion? Simply because the idea ofcompromise with the Nihilists aroused at once the idea of complicity!For such people it is always the same thing--they never can see butthe one side of the situation. But, nevertheless, the situation had twosides, as all situations have. The question was simple. The compromisewas certain. But why had Natacha compromised herself with the Nihilists?Was it necessarily in order to lose her father? Might it not be, on thecontrary, in order to save him? When one has rendezvous with an enemy itis not necessarily to enter into his game, sometimes it is to disarmhim with an offer. Between these two hypotheses, which I alone took thetrouble to examine, I did not hesitate long, because Natacha's everyattitude proclaimed her innocence: and her eyes, Sire, in which oneread purity and love, prevailed always with me against all the passingappearances of disgrace and crime. 

"I saw that Natacha negotiated with them. But what had she to place inthe scales against the life of her father? Nothing--except the fortunethat she would have one day. 

"Some words she spoke about the impossibility of immediate marriage, about poverty which could always knock at the door of any mansion, remarks that I was able to overhear between Natacha and Boris Mourazoff, which to him meant nothing, put me definitely on the right road. And Iwas not long in ascertaining that the negotiations in this formidableaffair were taking place in the very house of Trebassof! Pursued withoutby the incessant spying of Koupriane, who sought to surprise herin company with the Nihilists, watched closely, too, by the jealoussupervision of Boris, who was jealous of Michael Nikolaievitch, shehad to seize the only opportunities possible for such negotiations, atnight, in her own home, the sole place where, by the very audacity ofit, she was able to play her part in any security. 

"Michael Nikolaievitch knew Annouchka. There was certainly the point ofdeparture for the negotiations which that felon-officer, traitor toall sides, worked at will toward the realization of his own infamousproject. I do not think that Michael ever confided to Natacha thathe was, from the very first, the instrument of the revolutionaries. Natacha, who sought to get in touch with the revolutionary party, hadto entrust him with a correspondence for Annouchka, following which heassumed direction of the affair, deceiving the Nihilists, who, intheir absolute penury, following the revolt, had been seduced by theproposition of General Trebassof's daughter, and deceiving Natacha, whom he pretended to love and by whom he believed himself loved. At thispoint in the affair Natacha came to understand that it was necessary topropitiate Michael Nikolaievitch, her indispensable intermediary, andshe managed to do it so well that Boris Mourazoff felt the blackestjealousy. On his side, Michael came to believe that Natacha wouldhave no other husband than himself, but he did not propose to marry apenniless girl! And, fatally, it followed that Natacha, in that infernalintrigue, negotiated for the life of her father through the agency of aman who, underhandedly, sought to strike at the general himself, becausethe immediate death of her father before the negotiation was completedwould enrich Natacha, who had given Michael so much to hope. Thatfrightful tragedy, Sire, in which we have lived our most painful hours, appeared to me, confident of Natacha's innocence, as absolutely simpleas for the others it seemed complicated. Natacha believed she had inMichael Nikolaievitch a man who worked for her, but he worked only forhimself. The day that I was convinced of it, Sire, by my examination ofthe approach to the balcony, I had a mind to warn Natacha, to go to herand say, 'Get rid of that man. He will betray you. If you need an agent, I am at your service. ' But that day, at Krestowsky, destiny prevented myrejoining Natacha; and I must attribute it to destiny, which would notpermit the loss of that man. Michael Nikolaievitch, who was a traitor, was too much in the 'combination, ' and if he had been rejected he wouldhave ruined everything. I caused him to disappear! The great misfortunethen was that Natacha, holding me responsible for the death of a man shebelieved innocent, never wished to see me again, and, when she did seeme, refused to have any conversation with me because I proposed that Itake Michael's place for her with the revolutionaries. She would havenothing to do with me in order to protect her secret. Meantime, theNihilists believed they were betrayed by Natacha when they learned ofthe death of Michael, and they undertook to avenge him. They seizedNatacha, and bore her off by force. The unhappy girl learned then, thatsame evening, of the attack which destroyed the datcha and, happily, still spared her father. This time she reached a definite understandingwith the revolutionary party. Her bargain was made. I offer you forproof of it only her attitude when she was arrested, and, even in thatmoment, her sublime silence. "

While Rouletabille urged his view, the Emperor let him talk on and on, and now his eyes were dim. 

"Is it possible that Natacha has not been the accomplice, in all, ofMichael Nikolaievitch?" he demanded. "It was she who opened her father'shouse to him that night. If she was not his accomplice she would havemistrusted him, she would have watched him. "

"Sire, Michael Nikolaievitch was a very clever man. He knew so well howto play upon Natacha, and Annouchka, in whom she placed all her hope. It was from Annouchka that she wished to hold the life of her father. Itwas the word, the signature of Annouchka that she demanded before givingher own. The evening Michael Nikolaievitch died, he was charged to bringher that signature. I know it, myself, because, pretending drunkenness, I was able to overhear enough of a conversation between Annouchka anda man whose name I must conceal. Yes, that last evening, MichaelNikolaievitch, when he entered the datcha, had the signature in hispocket, but also he carried the weapon or the poison with which healready had attempted and was resolved to reach the father of her whomhe believed was assuredly to be his wife. "

"You speak now of a paper, very precious, that I regret not to possess, monsieur, " said the Tsar coldly, "because that paper alone would haveproved to me the innocence of your protegee. "

"If you have not it, Sire, you know well that it is because I havewished you to have it. The corpse had been searched by Katharina, thelittle Bohemian, and I, Sire, prevented Koupriane from finding thatsignature in Katharina's possession. In saving the secret I have savedGeneral Trebassof's life, who would have preferred to die rather thanaccept such an arrangement. "

The Tsar stopped Rouletabille in his enthusiastic outburst. 

"All that would be very beautiful and perhaps admirable, " said he, moreand more coldly, because he had entirely recovered himself, "if Natachahad not, herself, with her own hand, poisoned her father and herstep-mother!--always with arsenate of soda. "

"Oh, some of that had been left in the house, " replied Rouletabille. "They had not given me all of it for the analysis after the firstattempt. But Natacha is innocent of that, Sire. I swear it to you. Astrue as that I have certainly escaped being hanged. "

"How, hanged?"

"Oh, it has not amounted to much now, Your Majesty. "

And Rouletabille recounted his sinister adventure, up to the momentof his death, or, rather, up to the moment when he had believed he wasgoing to die. 

The Emperor listened to the young reporter with complete stupefaction. He murmured, "Poor lad!" then, suddenly:

"But how have you managed to escape them?"

"Sire they have given me twenty-four hours for you to set Natacha atliberty, that is to say, that you restore her to her rights, all herrights, and she be always the recognized heiress of Trebassof. Do youunderstand me, Sire?

"I will understand you, perhaps, when you have explained to me howNatacha has not poisoned her father and step-mother. "

"There are some things so simple, Sire, that one is able to think ofthem only with a rope around one's neck. But let us reason it out. Wehave here four persons, two of whom have been poisoned and the other twowith them have not been. Now, it is certain that, of the four persons, the general has not wished to poison himself, that his wife has notwished to poison the general, and that, as for me, I have not wishedto poison anybody. That, if we are absolutely sure of it, leaves as thepoisoner only Natacha. That is so certain, so inevitable, that there isonly one case, one alone, where, in such conditions, Natacha would notbe regarded as the poisoner. "

"I confess that, logically, I do not see, " said the Tsar, "anythingbeyond that but more and more of a tangle. What is it?"

"Logically, the only case would be that where no one had been poisoned, that is to say, where no one had taken any poison. "

"But the presence of the poison has been established!" cried theEmperor. 

"Still, the presence of the poison proves only its presence, not thecrime. Both poison and ipecac were found in the stomach expulsions. Fromwhich a crime has been concluded. What state of affairs was necessaryfor there to have been no crime? Simply that the poison should haveappeared in the expulsions after the ipecac. Then there would have beenno poisoning, but everyone would believe there had been. And, for that, someone would have poured the poison into the expulsions. "

The Tsar never quitted Rouletabille's eyes. 

"That is extraordinary, " said he. "But of course it is possible. In anycase, it is still only an hypothesis. 

"And so long as it could be an hypothesis that no one thought of, itcould be just that, Sire. But if I am here, it is because I have theproof that that hypothesis corresponds to the reality. That necessaryproof of Natacha's innocence, Your Majesty, I have found with therope around my neck. Ah, I tell you it was time! What has hinderedus hitherto, I do not say to realize, but even to think, of thathypothesis? Simply that we thought the illness of the general hadcommenced before the absorption of the ipecac, since Matrena Petrovnahad been obliged to go for it to her medicine-closet after his illnesscommenced, in order to counteract the poison of which she also appearedto be the victim. 

"But, if I acquire proof that Matrena Petrovna had the ipecac athand before the sickness, my hypothesis of pretense at poisoning hasirresistible force. Because, if it was not to use it before, why did shehave it with her before? And if it was not that she wished to hide thefact that she had used it before, why did she wish to make believe thatshe went to find it afterwards?

"Then, in order to show Natacha's innocence, here is what must beproved: that Matrena Petrovna had the ipecac on her, even when she wentto look for it. "

"Young Rouletabille, I hardly breathe, " said the Tsar. 

"Breathe, Sire. The proof is here. Matrena Petrovna necessarily had theipecac on her, because after the sickness she had not the time for goingto find it. Do you understand, Sire? Between the moment when she fledfrom the kiosk and when she returned there, she had not the actual timeto go to her medicine-closet to find the ipecac. "

"How have you been able to compute the time?" asked the Emperor. 

"Sire, the Lord God directed, Who made me admire Feodor Feodorovitch'swatch just when we went to read, and to read on the dial of that watchtwo minutes to the hour, and the Lord God directed yet, Who, after thescene of the poison, at the time Matrena returned carrying the ipecacpublicly, made the hour strike from that watch in the general's pocket. 

"Two minutes. It was impossible for Matrena to have covered thatdistance in two minutes. She could only have entered the deserted datchaand left it again instantly. She had not taken the trouble to mount tothe floor above, where, she told us and repeated when she returned, theipecac was in the medicine-closet. She lied! And if she lied, all isexplained. 

"It was the striking of a watch, Sire, with a striking apparatus and asound like the general's, there in the quarters of the revolutionaries, that roused my memory and indicated to me in a second this argument ofthe time. 

"I got down from my gallows-scaffold, Your Majesty, to experiment onthat time-limit. Oh, nothing and nobody could have prevented my makingthat experiment before I died, to prove to myself that Rouletabille hadall along been right. I had studied the grounds around the datcha enoughto be perfectly exact about the distances. I found in the court where Iwas to be hanged the same number of steps that there were from thekiosk to the steps of the veranda, and, as the staircase of therevolutionaries had fewer steps, I lengthened my journey a few steps bywalking around a chair. Finally, I attended to the opening and closingof the doors that Matrena would have had to do. I had looked at a watchwhen I started. When I returned, Sire, and looked at the watch again, Ihad taken three minutes to cover the distance--and it is not for me toboast, but I am a little livelier than the excellent Matrena. 

"Matrena had lied. Matrena had simulated the poisoning of the general. Matrena had coolly poured ipecac in the general's glass while we wereillustrating with matches a curious-enough theory of the nature of theconstitution of the empire. "

"But this is abominable!" cried the Emperor, this time definitelyconvinced by the intricate argument of Rouletabille. "And what end couldthis imitation serve?'"

"The end of preventing the real crime! The end that she believed herselfto have attained, Sire, to have Natacha removed forever--Natacha whomshe believed capable of any crime. "

"Oh, it is monstrous! Feodor Feodorovitch has often told me that Matrenaloved Natacha sincerely. "

"She loved her sincerely up to the day that she believed herguilty. Matrena Petrovna was sure of Natacha's complicity in MichaelNikolaievitch's attempt to poison the general. I shared her stupor, herdespair, when Feodor Feodorovitch took his daughter in his arms afterthat tragic night, and embraced her. He seemed to absolve her. It wasthen that Matrena resolved within herself to save the general in spiteof himself, but I remain persuaded that, if she had dared such a planagainst Natacha, it would only be because of what she believed definiteproof of her step-daughter's infamy. These papers, Sire, that you haveshown me, and which show, if nothing more, an understanding betweenNatacha and the revolutionaries, could only have been in the possessionof Michael or of Natacha. Nothing was found in Michael's quarters. Tellme, then, that Matrena found them in Natacha's apartment. Then, she didnot hesitate!"

"If one outlined her crime to her, do you believe she would confess it?asked the Emperor. 

"I am so sure of it that I have had her brought here. By now Kouprianeshould be here at the chateau, with Matrena Petrovna. "

"You think of everything, monsieur. "

The Tsar moved to ring a bell. Rouletabille raised his hand. 

"Not yet, Sire. I ask that you permit me not to be present at theconfusion of that brave, heroic, good woman who has loved me much. Butbefore I go, Sire--do you promise me?"

The Emperor believed he had not heard correctly or did not grasp themeaning. He repeated what Rouletabille had said. The young reporterrepeated it once more:

"Do you promise? No, Sire, I am not mad. I dare to ask you that. I haveconfided my honor to Your Majesty. I have told you Natacha's secret. Well, now, before Matrena's confession, I dare to ask you: Promise meto forget that secret. It will not suffice merely to give Natacha backagain to her father. It is necessary to leave her course open to her--ifyou really wish to save General Trebassof. What do you decide, Sire?"

"It is the first time anyone has questioned me, monsieur. "

"Ah, well, it will be the last. But I humbly beg Your Majesty to reply. "

"That would be many millions given to the Revolution. "

"Oh, Sire, they are not given yet. The general is sixty-five, but he hasmany years ahead of him, if you wish it. By the time he dies--a naturaldeath, if you wish it--your enemies will have disarmed. "

"My enemies!" murmured the Tsar in a low voice. "No, no; my enemiesnever will disarm. Who, then, will be able to disarm them?" added he, melancholily, shaking his head. 

"Progress, Sire! If you wish it. "

The Tsar turned red and looked at the audacious young man, who met thegaze of His Majesty frankly. 

"It is kind of you to say that, my young friend. But you speak as achild. "

"As a child of France to the Father of the Russian people. "

It was said in a voice so solemn and, at the same time, so naivelytouching, that the Tsar started. He gazed again for some time in silenceat this boy who, this time, turned away his brimming eyes. 

"Progress and pity, Sire. "

"Well, " said the Emperor, "it is promised. "

Rouletabille was not able to restrain a joyous movement hardly inkeeping. 

"You can ring now, Sire. "

And the Tsar rang. 

The reporter passed into a little salon, where he found the Marshal, Koupriane and Matrena Petrovna, who was "in a state. "

She threw a suspicious glance at Rouletabille, who was not treated thismorning as the dear little domovoi-doukh. She permitted herself to beconducted, already trembling, before the Emperor. 

"What happened?" asked Koupriane agitatedly. 

"It so happened, my dear Monsieur Koupriane, that I have the pardon ofthe Emperor for all the crimes you have charged against me, and that Iwish to shake hands before I go, without any rancor. Monsieur Koupriane, the Emperor will tell you himself that General Trebassof is saved, and that his life will never be in danger any more. Do you know whatfollows? It follows that you must at once set Matiew free, whom I havetaken, if you remember, under my protection. Tell him that he is goingto make his way in France. I will find him a place on condition that heforgets certain lashes. "

"Such a promise! Such an attitude toward me!" cried Koupriane. "But Iwill wait for the Emperor to tell me all these fine things. And yourNatacha, what do you do with her?"

"We release her also, monsieur. Natacha never has been the monster thatyou think. "

"How can you say that? Someone at least is guilty. "

"There are two guilty. The first, Monsieur le Marechal. "

"What!" cried the Marshal. 

"Monsieur le Marechal, who had the imprudence to bring such dangerousgrapes to the datcha des Iles, and--and--"

"And the other?" asked Koupriane, more and more anxiously. 

"Listen there, " said Rouletabille, pointing toward the Emperor'scabinet. 

The sound of tears and sobs reached them. The grief and the remorseof Matrena Petrovna passed the walls of the cabinet. Koupriane wascompletely disconcerted. 

Suddenly the Emperor appeared. He was in a state of exaltation such ashad never been known in him. Koupriane, dismayed, drew back. 

"Monsieur, " said the Tsar to him, "I require that Natacha Feodorovnabe here within the next two hours, and that she be conducted with thehonors due to her rank. Natacha is innocent, and we must make reparationto her. "

Then, turning toward Rouletabille:

"I have learned what she knows and what she owes to you--we owe to you, my young friend. "

The Tsar said "my young friend. " Rouletabille, at this last momentbefore his departure, spoke Russian?

"Then she knows nothing, Sire. That is better, Sire, because YourMajesty and me, we must forget right from to-day that we know anything. "

"You are right, " said the Tsar thoughtfully. "But, my friend, what am Ito do for you?"

"Sire, one favor. Do not let me miss the train at 10:55. "

And he threw himself on his knees. 

"Remain on your knees, my friend. You are ready, thus. Monsieur leMarechal will prepare at once a brevet, which I will immediately sign. Meantime, Monsieur le Marechal, find me, in my own closet, one of my St. Anne's collars. "

And it was thus that Joseph Rouletabille, of "L'Epoque, " was createdofficer of St. Anne of Russia by the Emperor himself, who gave him theaccolade. 

"They combine the whole course of time in this country, " thoughtRouletabille, pressing his hand to his eyes to hold back the tears. 

For the train at 10:55 everybody had crowded at Tsarskoie-Coelostation. Among those who had come from St. Petersburg to press the youngreporter's hand when they learned of his impending departure wereIvan Petrovitch, the jolly Councilor of the Emperor, and AthanaseGeorgevitch, the lively advocate so well known for his famous exploitswith knife and fork. They had come naturally with all their bandages anddressings, which made them look like glorious ruins. They brought thegreetings of Feodor Feodorovitch, who still had a little fever, and ofThaddeus Tchitchnikoff, the Lithuanian, who had both legs broken. 

Even after he was in his compartment Rouletabille had to drink his lastdrink of champagne. When nothing remained in the bottle and everyonehad embraced and re-embraced him, as the train did not start quite yet, Athanase Georgevitch opened a second "last" bottle. It was then thatMonsieur le Grand Marechal arrived, out of breath. They invited himto drink, and he accepted. But he had need to speak to Rouletabille inprivate, and he drew the reporter, after excuses, out into the corridor. 

"It is the Emperor himself who has sent me, " said the high dignitarywith emotion. "He has sent me about the eider downs. You forgot toexplain the eider downs to him. "

"Niet!" replied Rouletabille, laughing. "That is nothing. Nitchevo! HisMajesty's eider downs are of the finest eider, as one of the feathersthat you have shown me demonstrates. Well, open them now. They are acheap imitation, as the second feather proves. The return of thefalse eider downs, before evening, proves then that they hoped thesubstitution would pass undetected. That is all. Caracho! Collapse ofthe hoax. Your health! Vive le Tsar!"

"Caracho! Caracho!"

The locomotive was puffing when a couple were seen running, a man and awoman. It was Monsieur and Madame Gounsovski. 

Gounsovski stood on the running-board. 

"Madame Gounsovski has insisted upon shaking hands. You are verycongenial. "

"Compliments, madame. "

"Tell me, young man, you did wrong to fail for dinner at my houseyesterday. "

"I would have certainly escaped a disagreeable little journey intoFinland. I do not regret it, monsieur. "

The train trembled and moved. They cried, "Vive la France! Vive laRusse!" Athanase Georgevitch wept. Matrena Petrovna, at a window of thestation, whither she had timidly retired, waved a handkerchief to thelittle domovoi-doukh, who had made her see everything in the rightlight, and whom she did not dare to embrace after the terrible affair ofthe false poison and the Tsar's anger. 

The reporter threw her a respectful kiss. 

As he said to Gounsovski, there was nothing to be regretted. 

All the same, as the train took its way toward the frontier, Rouletabille threw himself back on the cushions, and said:

"Ouf!"