“And yours, monsieur,” I added dryly. “You are a young man, M. Apraxin; be advised, and meddle not too much with one of the most expert swordsmen that I know.”
We had reached the turning of the street and he stopped. I knew, even in the darkness, that he could ill suppress his rage.
“You think me a coward, sir,” he cried fiercely, “because I did not strike back at the czar, but you mistake me. That insult burnt through my face to my soul, and I will not endure such from a lesser man. ‘An expert swordsman,’” he added with an oath. “I care as little for his sword as I do for a straw. I have given him a fair warning. Najine is betrothed to me, and I will brook no interference with my affairs.”
“Rumor supplies another destiny for mademoiselle,” I said, unable to suppress a desire to lash the ill-tempered fool to fury.
“Rumor lies!” he answered with fierce emphasis. “She is to be my wife, and no one else shall wed her.”
“I trust that mademoiselle is of your mind,” I replied, turning away with feigned indifference, “otherwise I fear she will think you but a sullen bridegroom. I wish you good-night, monsieur; a good rest will clear your brain of many of these hallucinations. Take a sleeping potion and seek your couch.”
I heard him muttering some passionate reply, but passed on unheeding, although secretly disturbed, for here was a new difficulty for Guillaume de Lambert. An ill-tempered boy spying upon him was enough evil to make his interviews with mademoiselle a source of anxiety to me. Moreover, I foresaw that they would speedily cease, since it was improbable that Apraxin would fail to use the simplest means to end them, by informing her uncle; and, once mademoiselle was confined to the house, communication would be difficult in the extreme. Yet I smiled a little over the situation; what a trio of lovers had mademoiselle! A czar, a French soldier, and a violent-tempered boy, whose face had been slapped by his imperial rival. What would be next?
And, on the other hand, the women. Catherine rose before my mental vision, a distinct and remarkable figure; her fate could be no common one; natures cast in that mould must achieve the highest or fall to the lowest. By contrast, I saw mademoiselle, delicately formed, but stately, high-spirited, charming, with that fine quality of soul that spurns the mire, that is free from vulgar ambition, noble, generous, and before all tenderly affectionate, not formed of the stuff that makes an empress, and yet imperial enough, in her young beauty and purity, to adorn the most brilliant court in Europe. What a strange tangle in the skein of destiny had brought these heterogeneous characters together, and caught them in the meshes of the glittering net of court intrigue? Even so the fisher, when he casts his net into the sea, draws forth all manner of fish.
CHAPTER IX.
MADEMOISELLE’S BRACELET.
When I warned M. de Lambert of Apraxin’s jealousy, he treated it with the scorn that I had anticipated. To him the disappointed lover seemed but a sulky boy, and he attached no importance to his threats until he found that mademoiselle came no more to the cathedral. It was evident that the ill-tempered youth had become a tale-bearer; failing to execute his threat in any other way, he separated mademoiselle from her lover by the interposition of her uncle’s authority. M. Guillaume fretted and fumed to no purpose; if he had met Apraxin he would undoubtedly have given him a thrashing, but the young fellow had cleverness enough to evade him, and time passed with no news from mademoiselle. The day arrived for the semi-annual blessing of the river Moskva before this silence was broken.