‘Do as you please, my friend,’ Mazeppa said, laughing grimly, ‘but I think I shall win.’
Thinking all this over and knowing Mazeppa as I did, I determined that the safest plan in dealing with this fox would be to be a fox also.
CHAPTER XIII
I met at this time with two adventures which I will now relate, since the first resulted in a friendship which was afterwards—and indeed very soon—of great use to me, and both are essential to the further understanding of Ivan’s bride-choosing.
I was wandering near the Diévitchy monastery, which is the convent for the ‘Devoted of the Female Sex,’ and it occurred to me that here, indeed, was a good refuge for any who, like Vera Kurbatof, would escape the chance of being mated with Tsar Ivan against her will. My thoughts continually ran upon Vera at this time: her sweet though firm character attracted me much, and I began to think that I was not far from being in love with her. But if I suspected myself of this weakness, I suspected Mazeppa yet more of the very same, and perhaps it was this that, at the first, drew me towards Vera more strongly than even her own charm; for it had come to this, that I now felt my principal rule of life to be opposition to and rivalry with Mazeppa. I must both obstruct him and oust him; he had offended me more than once, and the Cossacks do not easily forget offence. Moreover, he it was that stood in my way, therefore I should make him feel that I stood also in his.
As to Vera, I knew as well as if he had told me in words that he had determined to make the girl his prey, whether honestly as his wife or in some other way. Therefore, above all things, he must not suspect that I, too, had an eye upon Vera. I would move stealthily; he should neither see nor hear anything that would put him upon his guard in this matter. Mazeppa was a better fox than I; he thought me a fool, however, which should give me an advantage.
Firstly, then, he should be led to believe that I was indifferent to Vera, and that might put him off his guard in speaking to me of the girl. We were still upon friendly terms, he and I, and went as dear companions; but he had deceived and offended me more than once, and I felt not towards him now as I did in the old days.
A youth drove up to the monastery as I passed the door: this was a young Boyar, by his dress, though I did not know him. He clanged the great bell, and I heard him give his name as Rachmanof, and demand to see his sister. There was a parley at the door, and presently he was admitted up some steps and into a little ante-room that lay outside the great doors leading in to the convent.
I lingered—I know not why—wondering whether anything of interest would happen, and almost immediately my curiosity was rewarded, for there came a medley of angry female voices, a piercing shriek or two, a curse and a scuffle, and then appeared young Rachmanof carrying the body of a young nun or postulant (for her hair, I observed, was not shorn), and followed by an old nun and two or three younger ones, who scolded and cried, and called aloud upon all and sundry for assistance.
‘Help! help!’ cried the elder woman. ‘All good people prevent this sacrilege! Here is a villain would carry off one of God’s devoted women. Help her, all who would serve Christ!’