“You go on foot. A Russian gentleman never walks when he can ride.”
“By the same rule you are not a Russian—ah—gentleman.”
“You are right. I am a Hanoverian—General Benningsen. At your service, sir,” replied the other, raising his hand in military salute.
The name might well strike Wilfrid with surprise, for Benningsen was a man great in his family connections, if in nothing else. As a youth, he had wandered forth from Hanover to seek his fortune, and entering the Russian military service, had the good fortune to attract the notice of the great Catharine, ultimately marrying a natural daughter of that Empress.
But though a sort of brother-in-law to the Czar, Benningsen was not in favour at Court. As a matter of fact, he had been exiled for a time, and though recalled and restored to his rank as general, he was excluded from the Council of the Empire, the membership of which his Imperial family connections might naturally entitle him to expect. It was openly whispered that this exclusion, together with his banishment, had made Benningsen disposed to favour a change of Government, no matter what, so long as it was a change. Indeed, it was even asserted that he had been heard to say he would have his revenge on the “little orang-outang,” his name for the Czar Paul.
“As an Englishman and a soldier, you are my brother,” exclaimed the Hanoverian theatrically.
The Czar being at variance with England, it pleased Benningsen to patronise everything and everybody coming from that country. On learning the name of his new “brother,” Benningsen was loud in his admiration and delight at meeting with one who had shown the Russian troops how to pass the Devil’s Bridge by scaling the rocks above it, leading the way in the very fire of the enemy.
“Your gallant feat of arms,” he assured Wilfrid, “is remembered with gratitude and admiration by every officer in St. Petersburg.”
It was characteristic of Wilfrid that he thought, not of the effect that his deed might have upon the Czar, but upon—some one else. If his feat of arms had given pleasure to the Princess, it mattered little to him how Paul and others viewed it.
Benningsen, with a sweep of his arm, directed Wilfrid’s attention to the Michaelhof.