“M. le Maréchal,” he said at last, turning upon me, “you won Madame de Brousson almost at the point of the sword; why should I fail? Have I not the greater opportunity, since I have your advice and, I trust, your aid too?”
“My aid certainly, my dear M. de Lambert,” I replied heartily, for I really loved the young man for his courage and his simplicity.
“Then doubtless I shall win,” he exclaimed; “you have but to teach me how you achieved your victory, in the teeth of just such difficulties and many more.”
I looked at him gravely, and shook my head.
“You forget, monsieur,” I replied quietly, “my rival was not the czar.”
CHAPTER XIV.
A FAIR REBEL.
That evening I went to the Kremlin for the sole purpose of gathering information, and met with signal failure. The czar was closeted with Prince Dolgoruky and Sheremetief, and the palace was almost deserted. The few courtiers lingering in the ante-rooms stared at me curiously, as if they knew of some matter with which my name was connected, and I attributed their interest to Catherine Shavronsky’s unfortunate letter. There are no secrets at a court; malice and curiosity pry out every corner about a throne, and I had no doubt that every particular of her foolish correspondence was known. I made an effort to see Prince Dolgoruky, but to no purpose, and finally quitted the palace much disturbed. I could not sift the situation, and was uneasy for M. Guillaume, who had gone out again, in the hope of communicating with mademoiselle, although I had endeavored to restrain his impetuosity, fearing that some evil would result from it; but it was impossible to control him. He departed upon his errand, burning with ardor to achieve some enterprise, to rescue Najine, to thwart the czar. The absolute recklessness of his courage made me smile. He dashed at obstacles in his path, as if he were dealing with a man of straw, instead of with one of the most resolute and autocratic men in the world. It looked desperate to me, for I knew that Mentchikof was under a cloud, and Catherine in a position that might terminate in exile, and the presence of Dolgoruky in the imperial closet boded ill for any hopes of M. de Lambert’s success.
It was early when I reached my quarters, and I was not surprised to find that the anxious lover had not returned even to supper. Zénaïde was disturbed; she knew even more than I about the perils of Najine’s position, and felt a keen sympathy for the two lovers. It was cold, and a great fire of logs blazed on the hearth, and I drew my chair before it with a sigh of relief. After all, the pleasure of sitting by a bright blaze on such a night diminished the trouble of court intrigue, but Madame de Brousson’s mind was dwelling on M. de Lambert.
“I hope he will do nothing rash,” she said thoughtfully; “he is determined to win, and sometimes that headlong impetuosity wrecks a cause.”
“And sometimes it conquers,” I replied sententiously; “he can scarcely see mademoiselle, even if he sees Zotof,” I added.