“She can go direct to the palace and make the petition when the czar gives audience to all complainants,” Mentchikof replied. “It would be ill-advised for her to make it in private; his Majesty might easily put such an appeal aside, but a public one would attract attention and—in a word, you understand, M. l’Ambassadeur, he has no real reason to keep a member of your suite in prison.”
“To be frank, M. Mentchikof,” I said, “your plan strikes me as feasible; but, after all, it is like playing at dice, and it is a throw in the dark.”
Catherine had been silent for a little time, but now interrupted us again.
“I have a scheme, Alexander,” she said with excitement; “let her come here to-night!”
“True!” he exclaimed, “that would be best. The czar comes here to-night,” he added to me, “for the first time for weeks. Let mademoiselle make her petition to him; she will have the better opportunity, for Zotof will not come.”
I saw the advantages of the opportunity, but I saw also some perils, and was not eager to acquiesce. Mentchikof read my hesitation and smiled.
“M. l’Ambassadeur,” he said graciously, “I pledge you my word, as a soldier and a gentleman, that Mademoiselle Zotof shall be safe in my house. Not even his Majesty shall violate my hospitality.”
I bowed gravely. “I thank you, monsieur,” I replied with dignity, “for the assurance. I will communicate with mademoiselle: I am, not unnaturally, reluctant to assume the responsibility. The young lady is the niece of Zotof, and I have no right to interfere with her actions; but my anxiety for M. de Lambert is so keen that I shall not lose the opportunity to appeal to her for assistance.”
“You will do well, M. l’Ambassadeur,” he replied, with a reflection of my dignified courtesy, “and I trust that she will find the czar’s humor propitious.”
“I trust so,” I replied quietly, “for I should regret extremely being forced to call upon my government to take cognizance of this matter,—an action which will be inevitable if I cannot obtain M. de Lambert’s release in a short time.”