The whole affair was profoundly annoying, and I wished from my heart that M. de Lambert had found it convenient to fall in love at home. I was well aware that nothing but force would induce him to leave Moscow at this crisis, and bitterly repented my folly in bringing a young court gallant in my suite. How to get him out of the imbroglio with a whole skin was a difficult question, and I was not reassured by the thought that Catherine Shavronsky was still under a cloud. I determined to see Mentchikof at my earliest opportunity and feel his pulse on the situation. His threats against mademoiselle were not to my comfort, but I was convinced that he would never resort to extreme measures while there was a possibility of reinstating the Livonian in favor.
The day passed without event, and the inaction of all persons concerned was not altogether satisfactory. I feared that some trouble was brewing, and was not quieted by the delay in the return of M. de Lambert; he and Pierrot did not arrive until the following morning. They were travel-stained and weary, but exultant; they had conducted mademoiselle safely to her aunt at Troïtsa. Before allowing M. de Lambert to remove the dust of the journey, I handed him the czar’s document without comment, watching his face while he read it. His expression was both scornful and perplexed, and his cheek flushed scarlet as he flung the packet on the table.
“Ma foi!” he exclaimed with impatience, “the czar takes me for a fool if he fancies that I can be packed off at his pleasure and leave mademoiselle to his tender mercy!”
“You forget, monsieur,” I said gravely, “that he is master here.”
“I do not forget,” he returned passionately,—“parbleu! it is thrown in my teeth at every turn,—but I am a French soldier, and forty czars shall not intimidate me.”
“Bravo, monsieur!” I retorted, clapping my hands; “but how do you propose to beard the lion in his den?”
“I will find a way to defeat him,” he replied quietly; “he cannot always conquer circumstances.”
While he was talking, Touchet came to the door and addressed him.
“There is a youth below, sir,” he said, “who would speak with you alone.”
M. de Lambert looked up in surprise. He had not had the opportunity to lay aside his cloak, and he picked up his sword from the table and started, as he was, to the door.