The Shadow of the Czar

by John R. Carling

"The reason is very simple. I have never handled bow and arrow, and it might create suspicion if I should now begin to learn."

"Now your Highness is jesting," said Zabern, puzzled to account for this humor on the part of the princess, because Barbara was not in the habit of jesting; and, moreover, if her remark were intended for a jest, it was somewhat difficult to see the point. "You shoot like Diana herself, or rather, I should say you did, for I must confess that since your Dalmatian tour you seem to have taken a dislike to archery."

"Marshal, I have never in my life taken aim at a target."

Zabern was completely dumfounded by the seriousness with which Barbara spoke. On recovering from his surprise, he said, smiling the while, for he did not believe in what he was saying,—

"Then if I am to accept your Highness's statement as true, it must follow as a logical conclusion that the young princess who handled the bow so admirably three years ago is not the same as she who now addresses me."

"Now you have hit upon my secret, marshal. I am not Natalie Lilieska."

"And I am not Ladislas Zabern," laughed the other. He could not tell why the princess spoke thus; he certainly could not believe her.

"Now, Zabern, be serious, for I am serious. Can you not recall when I first came here from Dalmatia, many supposed lapses of memory on my part? Was it not a common saying at that time, 'The princess has grown very forgetful?' Was I ever seen without either my father or Ravenna by my side? The truth is they were secretly instructing me as to the persons whom I met, giving me their names, history, and the like. And yet in spite of many blunders on my part, no one seemed to have any suspicion as to the truth, not even the Duke of Bora. Listen," continued Barbara to the utterly bewildered marshal, "listen while I give you a secret chapter of my biography."

Zabern gave due heed; and though the story was one of the most marvellous and most romantic that had ever come under his notice, either in history or fiction, he was compelled to believe in its truth, for what motive could the princess have in fabricating such story?

But when he was made aware of the sacrifice which the cardinal had demanded of Barbara as the price of his silence, Zabern became first cold with horror, then hot with rage. A saint as regarded his own dealings with women, he viewed with peculiar aversion a priest addicted to illicit amours.