Raevski’s face clouded over, but it did not express that querulous anxiety for personal safety which I had seen earlier in the day; he evidently felt disgust mixed with bitter memories.
“Of willingness there can be no question in such a case,” he said; “but I doubt if Orlóv has the power to do much. Pass through to the study after dinner, and I will bring him to you there.” He was silent for a moment and then added, “So your turn has come too; those depths will drown you all.”
Orlóv questioned me and then wrote to the Governor, asking for an interview. “The Prince is a gentleman,” he said; “if he does nothing, at least he will tell us the truth.”
I went next day to hear the answer. Prince Dmitri Golitsyn had replied that Ogaryóv had been arrested by order of the Tsar, that a commission of enquiry had been appointed, and that the charge turned chiefly on a dinner given on June 24, at which seditious songs had been sung. I was utterly puzzled. That day was my father’s birthday; I had spent the whole day at home, and Ogaryóv was there too.
My heart was heavy when I left Orlóv. He too was unhappy: when I held out my hand at parting, he got up and embraced me, pressed me tight to his broad chest and kissed me. It was just as if he felt that we should not soon meet again.
§7
I only saw him once more, just six years later. He was then near death; I was struck by the signs of illness and depression on his face, and the marked angularity of his features was a shock to me. He felt that he was breaking up, and knew that his affairs were in hopeless disorder. Two months later he died, of a clot of blood in the arteries.
At Lucerne there is a wonderful monument carved by Thorwaldsen in the natural rock—a niche containing the figure of a dying lion. The great beast is mortally wounded; blood is pouring from the wound, and a broken arrow sticks up out of it The grand head rests on the paw; the animal moans and his look expresses agony. That is all; the place is shut off by hills and trees and bushes; passers-by would never guess that the king of beasts lies there dying.
I sat there one day for a long time and looked at this image of suffering, and all at once I remembered my last visit to Orlóv.