‘Well,’ said Mazeppa, somewhat disdainfully, ‘then refuse to be the Tsar’s man. Go back and sit in your prison for a few years, if you prefer it, or in a worse place; taste the knout and die of weariness of your own society and the devil’s!’
CHAPTER V
Of course I took part in Mazeppa’s perfidy, and shared in its reward, freedom and the favour of the Tsar, and presently profitable employment under another Hetman.
We remained in Moscow a little while, and during that period I heard that the Hetman Doroshenko, our late master, had been attacked in his citadel by a large force of Tsar’s Cossacks; that he had been captured and sent into exile. In that exile he died.
That Mazeppa was guilty of contributing in any way to his capture I will not expressly declare. Let each man think as he will upon such matters.
The Tsar Alexis was greatly impressed by Mazeppa, treating him with marked favour and kindness. He took little notice of me, regarding me as a mere hanger-on or attendant of my companion, and Mazeppa’s manner, under the sun of the Tsar’s regard, grew different towards me. He spoke to me, from this time, with condescension and hauteur, rousing my resentment at times almost to quarrelling point, though we always ended in reconciliation.
And when I consider the surprising scheme, which at this time took root and began to grow in Mazeppa’s brain—a scheme of ambition and presumption indeed, even though he eventually brought one half of it to pass, I am not surprised that he walked head-in-air.
The Tsar Alexis was, as I say, most gracious towards his new Cossack convert. He saw in him, I doubt not, indications of certain qualities which might be turned to the advantage of the State. Mazeppa was a plant to be watered by Tsarish favour and counsel in order that it might one day grow so great and so strong that it should give support to those who desired to lean upon it. Now I discovered without intent the ambitious ideas of my friend, and this by means of a quarrel with him which ended—instead of in his overthrow or mine—in amazement and surprise on my part so great that the quarrel died in the birth, for simple lack in me either of tongue power or arm power to continue it.
We quarrelled because of his new manner towards me.
‘Come, Mazeppa,’ I said angrily—some word of mine having been slightingly turned aside by him—‘enough of your new manner. I know nothing in you which should justify this new assumption of superiority over me, unless it be that you are a better traitor.’