CHAPTER IX
“I HAVE UNBOUNDED FAITH IN YOU”
ALL my impressions of the interview with the Prince were quickly overshadowed by the one overpowering fear that the Princess was in imminent personal danger from the fury of the Countess Bokara. The Princess was regarded by her as the central pivot on which the whole Russian intrigue turned, and to take her life was the openly avowed object of that dangerous woman’s passion.
That any attempt would be subtly planned and fearlessly carried out I knew well enough, and it was for the perfecting of such a scheme that she sought my help. This was indeed the crowning irony of the situation. I, who would give my life to save the Princess’s, was to be this reckless fury’s accomplice in a plot to murder her, in order to keep on the throne a Prince who had solemnly declared to me his unalterable decision to resign it.
Yet there was one ray of consolation. It was probable that I should be able to hold her scheme in check long enough to secure the safety of her intended victim, and I could at once urge upon the latter the necessity for the greatest caution. It was with this thought in my mind that I made my visit to the Princess in the afternoon.
Her house was a large one standing by itself in the centre of the town, and I scanned it curiously. I noticed with satisfaction that great precautions had been taken. All the windows in the lower part were barred heavily; and the defences might have been planned with the express view of preventing just such an attempt as was in contemplation. The Russians had obviously done the work, knowing the need for guarding jealously the woman on whom so much depended.
On that score I had no apprehensions, therefore, and I resolved to question the Princess closely as to the state of affairs within, and whether she was absolutely sure of those who formed her household.
She received me very graciously.
“Your interview with the Prince has made you thoughtful, Count,” she said, after a few minutes. “Was my forecast right? and what have you done?”
“I have accepted the commission in his regiment, but I have not pledged myself to support his cause—indeed, he said that I should probably find myself bound in the end to commit myself to the Russian party.”
“It is singular that a man who showed himself so brave, and at first so capable, should be unable to read what is as plain as a book to other people.”
“His reading is that the one possible future for the country is for it to pass into the power of Russia.”
“I know that. It is his besetting weakness.” She said this very thoughtfully, and then her face and eyes lighted as she added with vehemence: “And it is wrong—utterly and wholly wrong. The merest counsel of despair. By the help of Heaven we will live to prove it so; and if I have not counted on you in vain, you shall help us in the glorious work.”
She turned her eyes upon me with a look that infected me with her enthusiasm. “You will help us, will you not?”
“With everything I possess, even to my life.”
“I know it; I am sure of you. Would to heaven we had more men like you with us! I am going to trust you—put perhaps our lives in your keeping, for I know well enough the dangers of the work. But I trust you—absolutely.” She held out her hand as she said this with an air and tone of implicit confidence, and I carried her fingers to my lips.
“Show me how to help,” I said, my voice unsteady with emotion.
“Openly we are all allied to the Russians in a scheme which is to make me the reigning Princess, independent of all Russian influence. This is the veil which hides their real intentions. Secretly there is an engagement that I shall become the wife of the Duke Sergius, admitting him to a half share of the throne, and thus Russianising it completely. To make sure of me, it is arranged that we be married secretly, the union only to be announced after my accession. The object for this is of course to bind me irrevocably to them beforehand; and it is expected that while I am seemingly independent, all that is national and patriotic in Bulgaria will be rallied to my support. We should thus get a firm hold of the throne and of all classes of the people without the suspicion of too great Russian predominance. Do you see that?”
I did; and my looks showed that I did not relish it.
“It is a shrewd scheme, no doubt,” I said.
She gazed at me steadily, almost reproachfully, I thought. But I did not like the scheme, and would not pretend that I did.
“Is it a plan you will help?” she asked. I was silent and cast my eyes on the ground.
“Is it a plan you will help?” she repeated.
“You place me in a position of great difficulty, Princess,” I replied, slowly.
“Will you help me in it?” she repeated.
“With such powerful influence behind you, you will not need my help that I can see,” I returned, ungraciously, for the scowling brutal face of Duke Sergius was in my thoughts.
Her eyes were still bent steadily upon me, and a side glance showed me their expression had changed.
“You are not frank with me, Count Benderoff,” she said, after a pause; and at that I looked up and said bluntly:
“If I offend you I am sorry; but I will not stir a finger to help the man you mean—the Duke Sergius.”
Her face was breaking into a smile, when she checked it, and I saw a faint wave of colour rise to her cheek.
“What do you know of Duke Sergius?” she asked. Again a pause.
“Little or nothing, Madame; but I will not serve in any cause where his interests are to be advanced.”
“Why do you not like him? You knew I was betrothed to him?”
She seemed suddenly bent on rousing my temper against the man.
“I had heard of it.”
“Yet, knowing it, you have not hitherto refused to help me!” Was she playing on my passion, that she persisted in her questioning? “You must have some reasons,” she continued, when I remained silent; “what are they?” and to my astonishment the smile which she had before checked now passed beyond control and lighted her face rarely.
“You must not press me for my reasons,” I said quickly; and the light in her eyes may have reflected the thought behind it, for again the colour mantled her cheeks.
“Then you will not help me?” she said in a low voice that witched me.
“You? With my life!”
The passion in my tone made her cast down her eyes, till, with a still deeper colour on her face, she lifted them and said gently:
“Forgive me; I was but testing you. And if you blame me, think what store I may set upon an assurance of fidelity that is purely personal to me. Call it caprice if you will, a mere woman’s caprice, that I should thus seek to probe your real thoughts and resolves.”
“There was no need to test me where you were concerned,” I replied; and again the earnestness of my tone appeared to embarrass her. In the short silence that followed I sat with but the loosest rein upon the hopes and thoughts that were so much to me.
“No; the Duke Sergius does not come into the scheme as we plan it,” she said; “and I thought indeed that what Mademoiselle Broumoff told you would have made you understand this. I would do much for this country; and if it were necessary that I should marry him—which, thank God, it is not—I might force myself to go even to that extreme. But in my life there can be no thought of marriage. I should be baser than the base if, having taken this charge upon me, I should ever turn from it by any thought of myself.”
She spoke in a tone of lofty exaltation, a strange contrast indeed to what she had termed her “mere woman’s caprice;” and I held my peace.
“Our plan is this,” she resumed: “to use the Russian ladder, and then kick it over. To make them pledge themselves before Europe to support me on the throne, and then to use the power of the throne for rallying the Bulgarians to defend themselves and their country against their real enemies.”
“You have mapped out a dangerous counterplot, Princess; but I like it, and if I can help, I will. How will you prevent the secret marriage?”
“We shall have to leave that to be disposed of when the time comes. As you were warned, he is a man whose eyes we have ever to blind.”
“Are you sure of the people about you?”
“Of some—indeed, of many; but it is in that you can be of such help to us. I have heard of the suggestions you made so guardedly, that your house shall be the rendezvous of the movement to which those shall be brought who are known to be true to the country, and can be trusted. Such a meeting-place will be invaluable, especially where, as in your case, there is a plausible excuse for any such gatherings.”
“You mean?”
“We propose to form a kind of gymnasium club—at least, propose that you should form it among the young men of the city whom we can ascertain to be faithful. Of these men you will necessarily become the leader; so you see you will have an important part to play, my friend.”
“It is shrewd,” I said, perceiving at once its many possibilities, as I recalled Zoiloff’s words. “But how far are your plans advanced? Time presses.”
“Much farther advanced than you think. We have been working all the time this Russian scheme has been in progress, so that we should be ready when that reaches its climax. But matters will move faster now, and in a few weeks all should be prepared. It is a strong point that the very craft of General Kolfort itself has helped us. We have, as it were, a free hand for making our preparations. He is as anxious as we are that those Bulgarians who are opposed to the Prince, and would help me, but fear Russia, should be secured to us; and this has given us just the cover for our work that we needed. We shall triumph, Count, for the cause of truth is ours, and Bulgaria shall be free;” and her voice rang with earnestness.
I sat silent in thought for some moments.
“You have thought of the dangers to yourself?”
“I can but die, and where could one find a nobler end?” Her face shone with the light of willing martyrdom.
“You think the General has no suspicion?”
“He cannot have as yet. There will come a moment when his eyes will be opened, no doubt, and then the danger may be real enough. But I am prepared to face anything for the cause.”
I thought of that moment, and my heart feared for her; but I knew of the other danger from that wild woman, the Countess Bokara; and I must put her on her guard.
“It is not of the dangers we must think, Count, but of the great end to be achieved,” she added. “To dwell on nothing but risks may make cowards of the bravest.”
“SHE TURNED SWIFTLY AND LOOKED AT ME.”—
“True; but we must at all events give enough heed to the dangers to be able to guard against them. Have you thought of the steps the Prince and those about him might take against you?”
“You may have influence with her,” she answered, understanding me readily. “And I have had a half hope that you may be able to make her understand how hopeless are her efforts. Can you do this?”
“I am not hopeful. She is a woman of wild and vehement passions.”
“She is mad; she hates me so violently that if she dared she would herself plunge a knife into my heart. She clings to the shadow of power which she wields through the Prince with all the tenacity of ambition venomed by malice. I know it, but I do not fear her,” she said proudly. “She is the greatest enemy this country has, even in this hour when its enemies throng every street, and are found in every house. Daring, unscrupulous, reckless, and saturated with the lust of power, she would use the Prince for the pursuit of her own ends, and those only, however cleverly masked by a boasted love of the country.”
The Princess was a very woman after all, I saw, for it was easy to read the personal dislike which breathed through her indignation.
“She may be very dangerous, Princess,” I said warningly.
She turned swiftly and looked at me, reading in my voice my genuine alarm for her. After a moment, her face softened into a smile, and she put her hand on my arm.
“You are warning me, I see, against something you know but cannot tell me. I will not ask you. I will do more, for your sake, and to relieve your fears on my account. I will be very cautious. You have a most difficult part to fulfil at present; I understand that. But I will guard against any such risks as you appear to contemplate. Your ready zeal for the cause is very welcome to me, Count—more welcome, perhaps, than I have been able to show you. For the sake of what you say, I will be very cautious.”
Her eyes rested a moment on my face, holding me in a thraldom of silent admiration. Then she added sweetly: “But you must not let your fears for me print themselves so legibly on your face. We shall go forward together in this matter to victory, my friend. That is the thought to carry with you. Heaven will not suffer us to fail, let the risks and difficulties be what they may. We are close comrades now; and I feel that you have been sent just at the moment when such a man was absolutely necessary. And when we have gained the victory, you will play a large part in the far greater work that lies ahead. I have unbounded faith in you.”
“I do not need the spur of ambition to serve you, Princess; but, by the help of heaven, your faith in me shall never prove unfounded.” I spoke with intense earnestness, and then rose to leave. She rose, too, and gave me her hand, which I again carried to my lips; and it pleased me to think that her fingers trembled as my lips touched them.
I had reached the door when she said suddenly:
“Oh, there is one thing which I have not mentioned. We have a kind of watchword which you should know. Our friends are banded together ‘In the Name of a Woman,’ Count.”
I started with a touch of alarm.
“But General Kolfort knows of that. It was with that formula I was accosted by the messenger who led me to his house.”
“He chose it,” she answered, with a smile of reassurance. “It is intended to mark off those who are for me as distinguished from those solely devoted to Russia, the good men and true for whom he thinks I can best act as his decoy.” I understood her. “You will not forget it and all that it means, as I have explained to you to-day.”
“I am not likely to forget all that it means to me,” I said, and a quick glow on her face made me think she understood me, too, and was not displeased. With a little flush of pleasure I turned again to leave, when the door was opened, and a servant announced the Duke Sergius.
He came in hurriedly, with a look of vexation on his coarse, broad face, which deepened instantly to anger as his eyes fell upon me.
“They told me you were engaged, Princess, as I see,” he said, with a sneer at me; “but I had a matter of urgency to discuss with you, so I bade your servants announce me.”
“Your urgency will cost my servants their places,” she answered, the expression of her face hardening into cold austerity—so different from anything I had seen during our interview.
“I did not think it could be anything very important,” he answered, paying no heed to her words. “Who is this gentleman?” and he turned and glowered at me.
Not only a bully, but a cad, was my thought, as I returned his look with generous interest.
The Princess murmured our names formally and coldly.
“I have heard something of you, Count, from General Kolfort.” He spoke as if it had been nothing to my good. “If I mistake not, I saw you at the ball last night.”
“I was there,” I answered curtly.
“I want a word or two with you, sometime, and will wait upon you.” Had I been a servant at whom he was flinging an order, he could not have put more offensive patronage into his tone.
“If you will write your business I will see if I have time to give you an appointment,” I answered with intentional brusqueness. He was not accustomed to be addressed in such a tone, and he started and flushed with anger. I took no notice, but with a bow to the Princess I murmured, “I have the honour to wish you good day, Madame,” and, ignoring the Duke entirely, I went away, leaving him staring angrily after me.
“I hate the brute,” I said to myself as I went into the street; and in truth I seemed to find a special cause of offence in the fact that I had had to leave him alone with the Princess. “I wish to Heaven he’d quarrel with me,” I muttered; and, indeed, the wish was to have a fulfilment that at the moment I had no cause to anticipate or hope.