‘There is a difficulty, but only one,’ I said, as if perplexed. ‘I was sent for this day by the Regent, not as an honoured guest, but in order to be examined and threatened. Her Highness has discovered in some way that it was I who concealed Vera Kurbatof in order that she might escape the bride-choosing; for this I am in deep disgrace, and under orders to leave Moscow immediately.’
‘Ah, never doubt it, this is not the true reason, this about Vera Kurbatof! The Regent is a fox, and she has seen that Praskovia Soltikof loves thee; this is the cause of thy disgrace. Oh, good, good!’
‘Well, it may be so,’ I said, adopting Olga’s idea, since it fitted well enough into my own fiction. ‘At any rate, I must go or remain in disguise. Therefore, if we marry we must marry in disguise, though, indeed, I see no particular objection to that.’
‘Stay, let me think. No, it matters little. So it shall be. Afterwards I will go to her and will bid her wish me joy of my marriage: she will ask me the name of my lover, and oh! the telling her will atone for much—how she will pale and gasp with rage! Well, then, so be it, dear Chelminsky; fix the hour and the place, and so it shall be!’
So far and so good for my plan, which prospered well. Only let Mazeppa behave as foolishly as Olga, which in his present state he seemed likely to do, and the matter would go smoothly enough.
Mazeppa was sick with love at this time: a sick fox with all his foxiness gone out of him!
When I told Mazeppa of the rich Boyar who was ready to marry Vera Kurbatof if the Tsar should not choose her, I told him the truth as I had heard it from Vera’s own lips. She would no more marry this man than the Tsar, she had said; and I had promised to help her in this as in the other matter. Now I determined this trouble of the Boyar should help me in my present designs. I therefore visited Mazeppa, who had left me yesterday in anger.
‘Mazeppa, I will not quarrel with thee, my friend,’ I said, ‘and to prove my good will, listen to what I have to tell thee. Vera is in trouble about this Boyar. She has asked me for help, but the only way for her out of this quandary is by marrying. This I told her, when I soon perceived that if I would she would be prepared to marry myself rather than stay to be mated with this fat old Boyar. Then it occurred to me that here was an opportunity sent by Providence itself for your convenience. For since I do not desire to marry the wench, while you are sick with love for her, what should be simpler than that you pass for me, and so carry her conveniently away?’
‘Fool! she would know me,’ growled Mazeppa; ‘you speak foolishly for jest.’
‘No, it is no jest, it is a good plan; nevertheless, if you like it not, leave it and the girl also; what is it to me? I am sorry I took the trouble to think out so good a scheme for a lover whose ardour is not equal to the trouble of carrying it out.’