“I believe he is the prince’s equerry, monsieur,” Pierrot replied, looking at me with an expression of intelligence.
Here was an easy explanation. Dolgoruky was conspicuous among Mentchikof’s opponents; he was one of the older noblemen, and was no doubt jealous of the increasing influence of the favorite, probably feeling that he had a better claim to the czar’s confidence and affection. Moreover, there was another motive for the opposition; there was much sympathy felt for the exiled czarina and her son, the czarevitch, which would imbitter the faction against Catherine Shavronsky. She was the candidate of Mentchikof, and he was secretly accused of having intrigued to depose Eudoxia; the czarina herself had openly reproached him with exercising a bad influence over the czar, and it was thought that he was unfriendly to the Czarevitch Alexis. There could be no doubt that a man like Alexander Mentchikof would bitterly resent Eudoxia’s reproaches, and it was natural that he should have no friendship for her son. The opposing faction, therefore, saw a double danger in his intrigues; if he could establish Catherine upon the throne, her children might succeed instead of Alexis; and all the old party, hating Peter’s reforms, were rallying around the son of Eudoxia, who was herself a type of the uneducated, bigoted women of the old Moscovite Court. Better that the czar should wed one of their own partisans than be swayed by a mistress of Mentchikof’s selection! Zotof was one of themselves, and I had no doubt that the faction was behind him in his desire to marry his niece to Peter, in which case mademoiselle would be the object of constant intrigue. They probably supposed that they could control the “Prince Pope” and insure the succession of Alexis, in precedence of any children that might be born of a union between the czar and Najine. And her selection would be less of an insult to Eudoxia than the elevation of Mentchikof’s creature. All these things increased the difficulties of the situation, and I was convinced that Prince Dolgoruky, fearing the miscarriage of his schemes, had set a watch upon mademoiselle and her French lover, and the suspicion of the French that was prevalent at Moscow increased the peril for M. de Lambert. A glance at Pierrot’s face satisfied me that he, too, comprehended the situation; he was a shrewd fox, and grasped it as quickly as I did.
“Warn Touchet,” I said to him significantly; “he does not understand the language, but he has a quick eye and a good sword arm.”
“I understand, M. le Vicomte,” Pierrot replied stolidly, and we walked on across the square.
I was not startled, indeed not even surprised, when a few moments later I encountered Prince Dolgoruky himself. He came out of the refectory of the Miracle Monastery, accompanied only by one of the court dwarfs, and, seeing me, stopped to await my approach. Personally, I liked the prince, although he was a somewhat pompous man, and probably opposed to every scheme I had on foot. Greeting me pleasantly, he walked with me towards the Gate of the Redeemer. Whatever his thoughts were, he turned the conversation at once on politics. Not all the Russians felt confidence in the Saxon alliance; they knew that the War of the Spanish Succession would involve the interests of King Augustus, who was the creature of Austria and they already saw Russia deserted by her allies, and attacked by Sweden on the north and Turkey on the south. Denmark had been disposed of, and the wiser statesmen never trusted Augustus the Dissembler, and their doubts were amply justified by the trick he played Russia at the Peace of Altranstädt. Dolgoruky in his talk with me showed his contempt for the Polish-Saxon intrigue.
“What we want,” he said frankly, “is an advantageous peace with Sweden. We must have the Neva and St. Petersburg, but for my own part I am weary of his Majesty of Poland. In the end he will make a peace with Charles XII. that will suit him and will not suit the czar. He would rather lose two Polands than two feet of his native Saxony.”
The event proved the truth of the prince’s assertion, but I was not prepared to commit myself on the subject.
“Poland seems to me the most unfortunate,” I said, smiling, “since she must support the war and see her territory parcelled out by the conquerors.”
“Poland should be ours,” Dolgoruky replied decisively; “it is too much a part of Russia to be torn to pieces by Augustus and that madman of Sweden.”
“Charles XII.,” I said quietly; “a brilliant young hero.”