“It is false—false!” she cried with a vehemence that surprised Wilfrid. “Paul was murdered in this very chamber—cruelly and barbarously murdered. And they that did the deed still live. Live, do I say? They are the Czar’s ministers, highest in the State, honoured of all men! And Paul’s physicians are not ashamed to sign lying proclamations that he died of apoplexy; they are posted all over the city. And editors print the story, and people believe it—all save a few, and these dare not open their mouths, for it is a crime against the State to speak the truth. It is only in Russia that such things can be.”
Overcome by emotion she sank down upon a chair by the bedside. Wilfrid thought she was going to faint, and made a sign for the Countess to come forward. Her help, however, was not required.
“Whence did you learn this?” asked Wilfrid.
“From one who, till his dying day, will be haunted by the memory of the deed—from Prince Ouvaroff.”
“Will not your Highness tell me the story?”
“It is the will of the Empress that you should be told it.”
Wilfrid could not help wondering why Paul’s widow should honour him, of all persons in the world, with this confidence, seeing that, only two days before, he had given dire offence to her husband. Doubtless he would receive an explanation ere long of a circumstance that at present was altogether inexplicable.
Pausing for a time before she began her narrative, and often pausing after she had begun, the Duchess proceeded to describe Paul’s death, one of the grimmest stories in the annals of Czardom.
Two nights before—to tell the tale more connectedly than it was told by the Duchess—upon the stroke of eleven, twenty cloaked men presented themselves at one of the gates of the palace. They were the ministers, relatives, and friends of the Czar, among them being Count Pahlen, the chief of the conspiracy; General Benningsen, a savage when roused to anger; and Prince Ouvaroff, a patriot actuated by the best and purest of motives.
The soldier on guard permitted them to pass, never suspecting that treason lurked beneath those brilliant uniforms and the decorations that attested rank and dignity. Once within the palace they silently ascended to the Emperor’s apartments.