On the red staircase

by Mary Imlay Taylor

“Why did you not wait for me to return, you knave?” I said, half angrily; “you know better than to leave a stranger at large in my rooms.”

Pierrot held up some keys. “He is locked in the hall, M. le Vicomte,” he said calmly. “I took that precaution.”

“Locked out the imperial messenger!” I exclaimed, aghast. “What trouble will you make next, you blockhead?”

But I could not forbear laughing. The thought of the messenger locked in the narrow hall, while Pierrot gravely departed with the keys, was exquisitely ridiculous.

I made a hasty apology to Von Gaden, and hurried away with my attendant. My curiosity was roused, for I could not imagine what had prompted a summons to the Kremlin at that hour, and from one of the imperial family. A hundred possibilities flashed through my head; but the only one that seemed likely was that some news had arrived from my government which required my immediate attention; and yet the diplomatic relations were not so intimate as to make even that probable. The distance from my house to Von Gaden’s was not great, and I hastened my steps the more because of Pierrot’s peculiar reception of the envoy. I found him sitting stiffly in the hall, evidently angry at the treatment he had received, but willing to accept my apology on the ground of my man’s stupidity. It was one of the Czarevna Sophia’s gentlemen-in-waiting, and he was the bearer of a verbal message from the princess, requesting my immediate attendance at the palace. I was much surprised, but prepared at once to accompany him; my dress had been a little disordered by the skirmish with the assassin, and I had to make some slight changes before I could present myself at the Kremlin. However, in a quarter of an hour we were on the way, having left Pierrot with an expression of gloomy apprehension on his face; for he had no confidence in the good faith of the Russians, and seemed to live in anticipation of a dreadful fate. The czarevna’s messenger treated me with a deference that argued that he, at least, fancied my errand to be one of importance; but he seemed especially anxious to avoid conversation, and I could not blame him, for I knew that the state of affairs was such as to make any wise man hold his tongue, for it was dangerous to declare adherence to either the Miloslavskys or the Naryshkins at that time. As we approached the Gate of Saint Nicholas of Mojaïsk, my companion left me for a few moments to speak to three men who were leaving it; they conversed in low tones, and with great earnestness. A little observation convinced me that they were Streltsi, and here was another straw to show which way the wind was blowing. In a few moments my guide rejoined me, and there were traces of agitation in his manner. The anterooms of the palace were almost deserted when we entered, and he hurried me towards the apartments of the czarevnas. I was ushered into a vacant guardroom of the Terem, and left to await the pleasure of the princess. In the quarter of an hour that ensued, my meditations were peculiar; I had given up trying to conjecture the cause of the summons, and waited with what patience I could command. I examined the apartment with some curiosity, for it was unusual for a stranger to gain admittance within these precincts, and impossible before the time of the Czarina Natalia; Alexis’ affection for his young bride, who had been brought up by Matveief’s Scotch wife, had allowed her a freedom before unknown in the imperial household, where it had been a criminal offence to meet the czarina unveiled. Two windows of the room looked down upon the Red Place, so that the inmates had ample opportunity to observe the occurrences without; the interior was furnished in the rich Oriental fashion, and was evidently no longer occupied by the guards, but had probably been added to Sophia’s suite of apartments. I had always felt a good deal of curiosity about this princess, who had so overshadowed her sisters and her blind brother, Ivan. She had shared her brother Feodor’s education, and had taken advantage of all the liberty so lately given to the women of the czar’s family, during Feodor’s illness taking a prominent part in affairs of State, putting aside the last formalities which hedged in the imperial household; therefore, I was not surprised when the door opened at last to see her enter alone.

Sophia Alexeievna at that time was still a young woman, but exceedingly stout, her short figure being crowned by an enormous head, out of all proportion even to the bulky body, and the Russian dress of the day increased her appearance of flesh, falling, as it did, a long full robe from the throat to the feet; that night, it was black, edged with sable, and embroidered with silver. She was an extremely plain woman, but there was an imperial dignity in her bearing which counterbalanced the effect of her proportions, and her small eyes were keen and penetrating, with a glance at once haughty and unflinching. Yet there was a charm about the czarevna’s manner when she wished to please, and her voice could be exceedingly pleasant and winning.

She came forward now to a table in the center of the room, and signed to me to approach, which I did with a profound obeisance. My curiosity was thoroughly roused, and, moreover, I felt a strong desire to secure the friendship of this remarkable woman. She had learned enough French to address me by name without hesitation, but beyond that she spoke in Russian, which was fortunately as familiar to me as my mother tongue.

“M. le Vicomte,” she said pleasantly, “you are doubtless surprised at this arbitrary summons; but we have learned to look upon you as a friend of our late brother, the martyred czar, and we felt that we could rely upon your kindness and your discretion to execute a—” Sophia hesitated, and I fancied she was deciding what shade of importance to give to her request, “a delicate mission for us at this time, when we cannot easily spare one of our own trusted relatives.”

It was my turn to hesitate a little, for I was not willing to commit myself blindly to the performance of some secret mission.

“Your highness can rely on my friendship and discretion,” I murmured, “and it would give me pleasure to do any reasonable service for any of the imperial family.”