“Our little Sasha!” faltered Pauline, with concern in her looks.
“Ay, our little Sasha!” repeated Benningsen. “And Constantine also. Both brothers are prisoners, each in his own apartment. To-morrow they are to be sent to a fortress.”
“And mon père has just gone to the Michaelhof to have an interview with Alexander.”
“Faith, then, he’ll return without it!”
Alas for Pauline’s hope of obtaining pardon for Wilfrid and herself through the mediation of Alexander! Her father’s errand to the palace was like to end in failure.
Matters began to wear a serious look. Having done a deed certain to incense the Czar, she durst not leave the Embassy for fear of arrest. And what would happen to her father if he should defy the Czar’s command to surrender Lord Courtenay?
“What have the two youths done, or rather what does Paul say they have done?”
“No one knows his reason,” said Benningsen. “But this is what he said on giving orders for their arrest, ‘Before many days be past men will be astonished to see heads fall that once were very dear to me.’ It’s my belief he’ll keep his word,” continued the General. “He has a craze for imitating his great-grandfather, Peter. And Peter put his son to death, you know.”
Pauline’s look of concern deepened.
“Let the Russians reproach Paris for its Reign of Terror,” she said. “It was but a brief season. But at St. Petersburg life has now become one long reign of terror. One rises from bed of a morning with no certainty of returning to it at night. Our lives are made miserable by a series of vexatious edicts. Our commerce is destroyed; the national credit sinking; the treasury empty. Wars on all sides; Cossacks assembling at Astrakhan for an overland march to India; troops massing upon the Prussian frontier to compel King Frederick to join the Armed Neutrality. And ere long we shall have a foe in the Baltic, for I presume,” she added, turning to Baranoff, “the report is true that Nelson’s fleet has set sail.”