‘There she sits,’ said the Regent, kindly enough. ‘Come, little frightened dove, that flew from the nest for fear of fowlers. Look not so frightened, we are neither fowlers nor birds of prey; we wish thee no evil, but great good. Come, the Tsar awaits thee and will choose thee for Tsaritsa if thou put not on that scared look!’
Poor Vera glanced at the Superior, who followed behind her Highness, but the old woman shook her head; tears were in her eyes, and she sobbed as she said, ‘Nay, child, I can do no more for thee; they have broken into this House of Peace. I am no longer in authority here.’
‘Mind not what this hag says,’ said Sophia. ‘She has forgotten that she is no less a subject of the Tsar than any other in the land who would also serve the Almighty; she has given thee evil counsel, but she shall lead no others astray. Come—I weary of talking—get thee ready, for thou shalt go with us to the Tsar.’
‘Madam,’ said Vera faintly, ‘I desire to remain here. I have no wish to——’
‘Enough—take her up, men——’
And Vera was then and there seized and borne shrieking away to the terem, where many notable things happened, which shall presently be set down. But before she departed from the monastery the Regent chose a new Superior, recognising one among the nuns whom she had known well before-time. Her she placed in the old mother’s seat, compelling the latter to take up a position at the bottom of the table, whereat sat humbly the non-professed sisters and the postulants of the community, as though she had only that day entered upon the religious life—the latest of all those present, instead of the first and the most respected and beloved.
And I lay senseless as a log while all this passed, little knowing or guessing the perils which compassed me about. For what if the Regent had sought Vera, first, in the little locked ante-room wherein I lay, and had there found me—a hawk in this doves’ nest! But by the mercy of the Highest and the wit of that good woman, the mother, I was spared this misfortune. For I was afterwards told that when one of the Regent’s men inquired of the Superior what room was this, and whether the escaped maiden were here, the mother replied that this was the hospital room. ‘I swear she is not there,’ she said, ‘and it is useless to disturb those who are within the chamber; they are sick, and need repose.’
Be sure that when I returned to consciousness and learned all these things I could lie no longer in peace. Very quickly my wounds mended—for they were but flesh-cuts, and my banged head was the worst matter of all!—and within a week of the fight I insisted upon going forth once again, which I did in spite of the tears and entreaties of my good old friend, the late Superior, and of another who had nursed me.
‘Let me go,’ I said, ‘for I shall recover the sooner when my mind is at ease and I can see and hear for myself what is passing without.’
‘Promise thou wilt get into no more brawls until thou art well and wholly recovered?’ said the mother. And this I promised, leaving the good woman, however, in tears of distress. ‘For, said she, ‘thou art pale and worn and not fit for fighting and for scheming, and yet how else is Vera to be served?’