“Do you know why?” asked the count.
“I cannot guess.”
“Whilst you wandered about and were ill, this mysterious Princess, deserted by the volatile Radzivill,” said the count, “left Ragusa. At first, with a Neapolitan passport, she went to Barletta, lived there some time. Now she has appeared in Rome as a Polish lady. Do you understand?”
I again bowed.
“Well, now,” continued the count, “I am very culpable in her eyes. I have not answered her two letters. But how could I, surrounded by all these spies? Answer? I tried once or twice to send her a faithful emissary, one of your own companions-at-arms, but she would not receive him. I pity that poor, young deserted thing, so inexperienced and without any means. You’ll be able to see her and begin the negotiations. I have invited her here; at Rome, I have heard, there are several Russians. Try and get to know everything that’s going on; but, first of all, shield her from all enemies and all foreign influence. Let her believe in us alone. We will befriend her. About your own conscience, be easy; all shall be done in all mercy and according to the laws of justice.”
CHAPTER X.
IS THE COUNT A TRAITOR?
I was overwhelmed; I was wonderstruck.
“Is it possible the count can be a traitor?” The thought flew like lightning through my brain. Impossible. Celebrated patriot, celebrated hero of the Coup d’État,[29] right hand of Ekaterina? Such thoughts would be unworthy. But what in the world is he plotting? Agitated by different doubts, suddenly a bold and almost insolent plan came into my head—that of learning the most secret designs of the count. It is true that in these last few days a rumour had been circulated to the effect that from the north had been received a secret ukase, that the count, for whom the deepest regret was felt, had been recalled, and the command of the fleet given to another.