There were tears in the honest fellow’s eyes. “My father died in the service of your house, M. le Vicomte,” he said proudly, “and I will die in yours.”
At a later hour my wife came to me with a troubled face.
“M. de Lambert is determined to keep his appointment,” she said, “and to go unattended; but it seems to me that Pierrot ought to follow him without his knowledge.”
“I thought of that,” I replied, “but it looked unfair to follow him against his wishes,—a betrayal of his confidence.”
Zénaïde shrugged her shoulders. “I would not draw such distinctions,” she said, with a woman’s fine disdain of a man’s scruples; “his life is the first object. You know, Philippe, I do not believe that Najine ever sent that message; it is unnatural and unwomanly, but M. de Lambert will not listen to me. I believe I admire him the more for his rash devotion; still I would protect him, whether he wished it or not.”
I reflected, for her opinion and mine coincided, and I felt most reluctant to allow the young man to expose himself to unnecessary risk. So it was that I called Pierrot, who had withdrawn, and instructed him to follow M. de Lambert when he departed at dusk to keep the tryst.
An appointment with the czar took me to the Kremlin two hours before the important moment. At this time the Swedes were occupying the provinces of Kalisz and Posen, in Poland, and the Polish Primate, Cardinal Radziejowski, had summoned a Diet at Warsaw, ostensibly that the Republic of Poland might make a separate peace with Charles XII., but with the real purpose of deposing Augustus of Saxony. The confederation of Schrod, or Great Poland, was under the protection of the King of Sweden, who was proposing Prince Jacob Sobieski to succeed Augustus. It was an intrigue to control Poland and dethrone her king, looked upon with little favor by the powers. Peter was continually endeavoring to feel the pulse of France; to ascertain how far the king my master would interfere between him and Charles XII., and whether the partition of Poland or the downfall of Augustus would be regarded with indifference by the French. My moves were even more cautious than his; sent to watch the disposition of Russia toward the Grand Alliance, and to ascertain how far the czar would go in upholding Augustus in Saxony, I played the game of cross purposes day by day, though I often saw the hot-tempered czar fretted by my complaisance and by the apparent indifference of France. While I never admitted that I was an envoy of my government, Peter allowed me to see that he divined my mission; but through all the manœuvring he did not forget to probe me about M. de Lambert and mademoiselle. He was quite aware that she preferred her French lover, and it must have been a keen annoyance to his haughty nature. His personal feeling toward me was cordial; he was easy to approach, his large nature scorning the trivial etiquette of courts, and, in spite of his violent temper and mad outbursts, there were many qualities that were kingly and commanded my regard. That he regretted his occasional paroxysms of fury, I did not doubt. It was not even difficult to understand his treatment of the Czarina Eudoxia. She belonged to the old régime; an ignorant woman, narrow, bigoted, and jealous, clashing with the temperament of her husband at every point, unable to comprehend his intellect, hating his reforms, without sympathy for his ambitions; tried, no doubt, beyond endurance by the czar’s intrigue with Anna Mons, but, in any case, totally unfit to hold his esteem. Unhappily, it was said that the Czarevitch Alexis, then a lad of thirteen, was like his mother in disposition and in tastes; already the wiseacres at court looked forward to the day when there would be a breach between father and son. It was this probability and the delicate constitution of Alexis which made Peter’s possible marriage an event of keen interest to the opposing parties and of vital importance to Mentchikof, who was determined to keep his place beside the czar.
When I left the Kremlin and turned my steps toward my lodgings, my mind was still full of these matters. France and the Grand Alliance, Russia and Charles XII. filled my thoughts, and for the time I had forgotten M. de Lambert and his love affair. Although my path took me in the direction of the bridge, I walked toward it still too absorbed to remember the tryst. It was now quite dark, and a mist hung over the frozen river; the ground was white with snow and it was beginning to sleet. It seemed unusually still, so that I heard the scream of a raven disturbed in his rest. Suddenly there was a cry and a pistol-shot. Remembering M. de Lambert, I dashed down the slope to the bridge. As I did so, I ran against a man who was rushing up the bank, and, obeying an instinct, I caught him in my arms, pinioning his; but the ground was slippery and he threw himself on me, pushing me sideways on the slope until I lost my footing and went down on one knee. Having me at a disadvantage, he wrenched himself free, and, dealing a blow that stretched me on the ice, dashed off in the darkness just as another man came up from the bridge, and, seeing me upon my back, fell on me with a cry of fury.
“You villain!” he exclaimed, “I have you now!”
It was Pierrot.