“I know nothing,” he replied stubbornly; “it will avail nothing to kill me.”
“Tush, man!” I exclaimed sharply, “a spy is never so ignorant. You cannot escape me. Either take me to M. de Lambert, or tell me where to find him.”
“I can do neither,” he retorted, in the same sullen tone, gaining courage because I did not immediately execute my threat. “I know nothing, nor does the prince my master.”
“Probably you know how to say your prayers,” I remarked dryly, “in which case you had better say them, for you have only about five minutes to live. I give you so much space to choose between confession and eternity.”
He did not reply. I think he only just began to believe that I was in earnest. He was not a coward, but the touch of cold steel thrills even a strong man. There was no chance of escape for him; we were in a desolate spot, and the night grew intensely dark. There was no sound as we sat there on our horses but their occasional restive movements. Pierrot held his bridle with an iron grip, and I had covered him with my weapon. A pistol-shot more or less would not be noticed in Moscow, and death stared him in the face. In the silence I could hear his breath coming short and thick, and knew his heart was failing him. He could not see my face, and I smiled in the darkness. It would not be necessary to use violence. He was struggling hard with himself, and I had no doubt that he had cause to fear the result of a confession. Dolgoruky, of course, had bound him to fidelity, and it was possible that he saw death as an alternative on either hand, for the prince would never pardon the betrayal of his trust, and he must have placed great confidence in this man or he would not have permitted him to go with me. The minutes passed, and Tikhon was silent, still doubtless hoping for rescue. The stillness was oppressive; the city was strangely quiet, only, far off, a cathedral bell tolled twice from the Kremlin. Once more I raised and levelled my pistol.
“The time has expired,” I said quietly. “I shall count three before I fire, therefore be prepared for eternity.”
Still he did not speak; he had a stubborn courage which was slow to yield.
“One,” I counted, tightening my grip upon my horse’s rein, for it seemed as if the fool was determined to rush upon his fate and I was losing patience.
“Two!”
I heard him draw his breath with a gasp.