Miss Hildreth: A Novel, Volume 2

by Augusta de Grasse Stevens

The populace should see that their Tsar and Tsarina neither feared to trust themselves to the people, nor shrank from redressing wrong when brought before their notice, though indeed none knew better than she how purely perfunctory and ceremonious would be the inspection and its results.

The governor of Petropavlovsk and the lieutenant of the Trubetskoi bastion received the distinguished guests, and welcomed them with apparent relief and pleasure, throwing open the doors of the casemates one by one, and standing back deferentially, with more of sorrow than of anger on their official countenances; for was not theirs a sad example of unrequited and misjudged zeal, since even they could be regarded with suspicion and doubted in their humanity?

Most of the casemates were found to be unoccupied, and Patouchki, who walked beside the Emperor, never failed on each such occasion to draw his Imperial Highness's attention to the fact.

"I believe, sir," he said, as they entered the last of the lower range of cells, and found it like its predecessors, empty, swept, and garnished, "that one of the most formidable counts in the public indictment against Petropavlovsk, is the over-crowding of its cells, and their uncleanly condition. Your Majesty has now visited thirty-five of these casemates, the greater number of which have been found unoccupied, and all of them in perfect sanitary order. I think, sir, this answers that complaint."

The Tsar sighed, but made no reply. Perhaps he, like Patouchki, wished to make the best of everything and see only the brightest side; but even he could not still the premonitions of evil that arose thick and fast in his mind, as he comprehended the immensity and power of this Imperial prison house of Russia.

Of the few victims found in the cells none recognised the Royal party. They were for the most part political offenders from the interior provinces, who had never before been in Petersburg, and to whom the face of their new Tsar was not as yet sufficiently familiar to make recognition possible, especially as his dress differed in no respect from that of the officers accompanying him. Little did the poor victims imagine, as they were hurriedly changed, early that morning, from one part of the fortress to another, that it was to avoid any accidental recognition on the part of those, who, being the last to enter the prison, still retained memories of the outer world, and sentiments of Imperial justice—believing that their Tsar, once convinced of their innocent incarceration, would order their instant release—that this transfer was made. Any possible outbreak was to be avoided at all hazards, since any such émeute could not but end awkwardly for the Imperial inspectors, and disastrously for the officials.

Had these poor wretches but suspected that the tall, soldierly man, wearing a scarlet kaftan, without ribbon or order, and who looked gloomy and thoughtful beneath the military helmet, was their Tsar—their little father, the great Emperor of all the Russias—how they would have fallen at his feet, praying his interference; protesting their loyalty, and maintaining their innocence! Or had the faintest doubt crossed their minds, that the slight upright woman, clad in those closely-clinging, sombre robes, whose eyes looked so pitifully forth, and whose face was so wan and pale, might perchance be their Tsarina, what tears and sobs, what pleadings and supplications would have rent the air, as they kissed her hands, or grasped wildly at her garments!

But fate was against them; their opportunity came to them unsought, and they passed it by unknowing. How should they know, poor souls, to whom even a word of ordinary greeting from their jailers was denied, and to whom no echo of news ever penetrated, how should they know, that at the very moment, as they were praying passionately for some means of communication with their Emperor, he himself stood before them, and that had they but put out their hands they could have touched him?

It was the cruel irony of fate; the bitter obligation of destiny.

As the guards threw open the massive casemate doors in silence, most of the inmates did not so much as raise their heads or change their attitudes. Why should they? It was only another of those many interruptions in their day's vacuity, in which the jailer played the part of inspector with maddening sameness. What call had they to look more often on his hated face than was needful?