“I know it, M. de Brousson,” he said in a low voice; “but I tell you that the imperial mood is tempestuous, and—in a word—he loves Najine.”
“I see that,” I admitted gravely, “but the matter is difficult; nevertheless, with your aid, I will do what I can.”
He walked with me to the stairs, and then, pausing, laid his hand upon my arm and looked into my face with those keen eyes full of quiet meaning.
“Marriage, M. l’Ambassadeur,” he said in a low tone, “speedy and secret marriage, is possible, and it alone will cut the knot.”
We were practically alone; a few attendants were below, at the foot of the stairs, and three or four guards lingered in the corridor observing us with curious eyes, but no one could overhear our conversation. I looked at the favorite searchingly.
“And the risk to mademoiselle?” I said slowly.
He snapped his fingers. “It would not amount to that!” he replied. “His Majesty will forgive her—after a while; but for the present,” he laughed, “a pair of fleet horses, monsieur; I will look well to the pursuers and the pursuit.”
He took a signet ring from his finger, and placed it in my hand.
“I trust it to your honor, M. le Maréchal,” he said significantly; “use it, whenever the name of Alexander Mentchikof may speed your errand, and remember that the imperial mood will change.”
And with this caution he parted from me, and I went out into the night attended by Pierrot and the captain of the guard. We turned our steps immediately toward the Kremlin, walking rapidly and in silence. I did not need Mentchikof’s assurance to convince me that there was no time to lose. I had read the czar’s mood almost as easily as the favorite, and knew that he was unwilling to betray to the whole court that he, the czar, was jealous of a young French soldier with no fortune but his sword and the favor of the King of France. That Peter was intensely angry at Najine’s open avowal of her loyalty to her lover was manifest enough, and I did not doubt his speedy repentance of his consent to release his prisoner. Meanwhile I had the order which would give M. de Lambert freedom, and a few hours in which to get him out of the city; but how to accomplish this was not so clear unless I found him in a more yielding mood than usual, or I could prevail upon mademoiselle to facilitate matters. I trusted to Madame de Brousson’s wit and courage to bring Najine safely away from Mentchikof’s house, but how long she could evade Madame Zotof was another question. I hoped much from the fact that Najine would find her position so difficult that it would be more simple to follow Mentchikof’s suggestion than to face her uncle’s displeasure. The favorite’s signet was on my finger, and I reflected that he had shown more confidence in me than I felt in him, for I was doubtful of following his advice.