II.
About this time the Grand Duke Constantine was expected at Wilna, and great preparations were made to receive him; but the revolutionary placards which had appeared there, as in every other town in the empire, became more numerous and audacious than ever. The police, as the case has always been, showed their boasted efficiency by arresting numbers of innocent persons, whom they were subsequently obliged to release; but after every arrest the placards became more violent and taunting. Several officers of the garrison, even, were arrested, but, to my surprise, Vladimir Kourásoff was not among them. He had suddenly grown prudent; but I can not say that this change in his conduct inspired either his brother or myself with any great confidence. Of one thing we were both assured, that Vladimir's rash and frivolous character would prevent his being placed in any post of responsibility by the revolutionary or any other party. Count Loris was deeply attached to him, and Vladimir knew very well that his brother's means and influence would be freely used to save him from the consequences of his own wrong-doing.
On the morning of the Grand Duke's expected arrival the city was alive with threatening cards posted on the walls of the university, the arsenal, and other public buildings. Count Loris and myself paid a visit that morning to Mademoiselle Orviéff, and then joined a throng of eager and expectant spectators at the palace gates. Vladimir too, was there, one of a brilliant group of officers who were to receive the Grand Duke at the entrance to the palace. The crowd was excited, but good-natured, and contained the usual mixture seen in Russia on such occasions—priests, moujiks, ladies, beggars, and police—all loudly talking about indifferent things, and below their breath discussing the boldness of the placards.
"One was torn down in St. Stanislas Street at eight o'clock, and before nine there were dozens like it posted all over the town—on the Cathedral doors, over the Nikolas bridge, everywhere," said an officer with whom I was conversing. As he spoke, I turned and saw Vladimir Kourásoff listening to him with a conscious smile on his countenance.
At that moment a droschky appeared at the extremity of the long street which the police kept clear for the imperial cortége. The horse dashed furiously along, evidently running away, while the driver held on desperately to the reins. On the narrow seat were two moujiks holding on to each other, apparently drunk and unconscious of their danger. They kissed each other and rubbed their beards together, as their habit is in their convivial moods; but I suspected that they were not drunk, and perhaps not even moujiks. One of them appeared to be urging the already maddened horse still more. "Fly, my dushinka!" ("little darling") he cried, trying to clutch the reins from the frightened driver. "Fly like wind and lightning to meet our good father Constantine!"
His companion waved a box in his hand. "Fireworks! torpedoes!" he bawled with a yell of drunken laughter, "for the good Duke Constantine!"
The horse, suddenly swerving from his straight course, dashed against one of the iron pillars holding a cluster of lamps at the palace-gate. There was a loud cry as the crash of the droschky and the explosion of the box of fireworks occurred at the same moment, and, while every eye except mine was apparently fixed on the spot, I saw Vladimir Kourásoff lift up his hand and affix a placard to the wall and vanish in the crowd. It was done in an instant of time.
As I saw it I walked off involuntarily in another direction, and when I turned and looked back the throng that had lately been so noisy and excited was staring in stupid amazement at the bit of paper securely fastened to the wall.
My first impulse was to seek Count Loris: I felt that Vladimir's fate was sealed—that in that vast multitude some one besides myself must have seen him. I walked mechanically to the Nikolas bridge, and, looking up, saw my friend approaching, and two men, not in uniform, walking slowly and nonchalantly toward him, immediately in front of me. We all four met in the middle of the bridge.
One of the strangers laid his hand lightly on the count's arm. "In the name of the emperor," said he, "your sword."
Count Loris, with a cool smile, unbuckled his sword and handed it to him. "I am now, and always, the faithful subject of the emperor's most sacred Majesty," said he.
The man, who had hitherto remained silent, examining him carefully, said: "He does not wear the uniform of Count Vladimir Kourásoff's corps."
"That is easily accounted for," replied his companion: "he has a brother who is in the Guards, and a change of uniform is a shallow trick often resorted to."
"Come, my friends," said Count Loris, smiling pleasantly, "do not keep a gentleman and a faithful officer standing here in this piercing wind."
"Come on, then," said one of his captors. "You have plenty of courage: it is well, for you will need it all."
"Farewell, my friend!" said Count Loris, turning to me, and, still smiling, walked off with the police officers.