“I know him to be such,” replied Baranoff, who, always able to lie like truth, was on this particular morning quite surpassing himself. “This Lord Courtenay, who wanders about Europe, ostensibly in search of adventure, whose rank procures him admission to the highest circles, is in reality a secret agent of the British Government. Young, handsome, accomplished, and of noble birth, he is the very person to take a woman’s fancy. By some means he has got to know of the Duchess Marie’s infatuation for him, and he comes to St. Petersburg with the subtle view of using her as a medium for acquiring State secrets. Be sure, Sire, that whatever matters you communicate to her will soon become his, to be transmitted to his master, Pitt.”
“That same Pitt,” said the Czar, darkly, “with whom Pahlen bids me make peace!”
“Bids, or—advises?”
The Czar compressed his lips significantly. Baranoff smiled to himself. It was clear to him that Pahlen was disposed to play the master over the youthful sovereign, and that the youthful sovereign did not like the yoke.
“I have shown you, Sire, the infamous methods to which an English premier resorts. And yet you will make peace with him, merely because Pahlen urges you?—An ill precedent to set at the beginning of a reign! The ministers of a Czar are his servants, not his counsellors. The sovereign who accepts advice is not the ruler, but the ruled.”
And then, in defiance of his own words, Baranoff proceeded to give advice.
“Will you reverse your father’s policy all in a moment? despatch a courier to the First Consul to break off the alliance, even before your royal sire is laid in his grave? Will this be decent?”
Much more to the same point flowed from his lips. His specious pleading, but especially his lies concerning Wilfrid, began to tell upon Alexander, causing his young and plastic mind to waver from its friendly attitude towards Britain. Why not let the war continue—for a time at least, if only to teach his peace-advising ministers that the Czar’s will must be supreme?
Wilfrid’s love-affair was a matter unknown to the European chancelleries of that day. It would have surprised them—it certainly would have surprised Wilfrid—to know that it was a potent factor in shaping the foreign policy of the Czar. Another proof that great events spring from trifling causes. Did not all the wars of the Grand Monarch originate in a dispute about a window?
At this juncture there came a knock at the folding-doors followed by the entrance of two chamberlains, who, bowing low, announced that the new Czarina desired to speak with the Czar, whom she had not seen since his accession.