Galitsyn was at home, and I was granted immediate admittance. The prince was rich, and his house was furnished with Oriental magnificence; while I stood waiting in one of the anterooms, I had leisure to examine my surroundings, and notice the splendid hangings and luxurious furniture. I had always observed that he was more European in his habits and manners than the rest of the nobles about the court, and I saw here, in his house, the conjunction of Western civilization and Eastern splendor. The doors were open, and where I stood, I could look through a suite of apartments glittering with silver and gold, hung with the richest silks, and ornamented with marble statuary; it was a home worthy a grand seigneur. I suspected that he was a man of unlimited ambition, and I could but admire the shrewdness which had enabled him to gain an ascendency over the mind of the most brilliant member of the imperial family, for I never for a moment dreamed that Galitsyn reciprocated Sophia’s affection; but for political reasons, he probably feigned a devotion which he did not feel; such is the misfortune of princesses. Looking back now upon that day, I see how little any of us reckoned on the future of the boy czar,—Peter Alexeivitch, whose hold upon the scepter seemed so slight, yet whose iron hand would one day mold and weld the disintegrated empire into a great state, and sway the destiny of Russia. I scarcely heeded then the shrewd Von Gaden’s estimate of the young Tartar; the Jew was the only one who recognized the star that was rising out of that sea of intrigue and misrule.
I waited, possibly, half an hour, before one of the prince’s gentlemen came to conduct me into his presence, for Galitsyn hedged himself in with no little ceremony. I followed the usher into a long and splendid salon, hung with the richest tapestry; at the farther end was a writing-table, at which sat Prince Galitsyn, conversing earnestly with a man who wore the uniform of the Streltsi; as I approached I recognized with astonishment my acquaintance, Peter Lykof. A pile of papers lay on the table before Galitsyn, who was so intent upon them that he did not notice the usher who preceded me to announce my entrance. Lykof looking around greeted me with an easy assurance of manner that I had always observed about him; and Galitsyn, looking up at this moment, thrust his papers aside, and saluted me with courtesy.
The prince was an extremely handsome man, and had a grace of manner which made him the most successful of the Russian diplomats, and withal, he had the gallant and straightforward bearing of the soldier that he really was. I signified at once that my business was for his private ear, and Lykof, taking the hint, prepared to withdraw. To my surprise, Galitsyn held out his hand to him warmly, as if bidding adieu to an equal.
“I have to thank you, prince,” Lykof said easily, “for your patient hearing of my complaint. I have waited long, but at last I may hope for justice.”
“It cannot fail you in so righteous a cause,” replied the prince at once; “the czarevna probably knows much of the case already, and you may always look for justice at her hands.”
I made a mental note of this, and hoped that the czarevna’s forbearance was equal to her justice; but something in her small eyes had warned me that her ideas on this point might be a little crude and simple. However, Lykof did not seem troubled with my apprehensions, probably having an easier conscience, and he parted from Galitsyn with the utmost cordiality, saluting me as he passed with a dignity worthy a higher rank.
When I was alone with the prince, I immediately presented my packet, briefly stating my unfortunate experience and the difficulty I had encountered in fulfilling the czarevna’s mission. Galitsyn listened attentively, meanwhile turning the packet over and over in his hands, his keen glance shifting from it to my face and back again. When I had concluded, he broke the seals, glanced hastily at the contents, and then, laying it on the table before him, regarded me with an expression which I could not fathom.
“M. le Vicomte,” he said slowly, “you have done well. Her Imperial Highness will not forget so distinguished a service. If this packet had reached the hands of an enemy,”—he paused as if to give weight to his words,—“I cannot measure the results. It would be unworthy of me to dissemble with you, M. de Brousson; it would have ruined the Miloslavskys.”
I had divined the importance of my errand, and was amused at the prince’s candor in comparison with Sophia’s caution. He made me repeat to him again the history of my adventure. I had told him frankly every particular, only omitting all mention of Zénaïde, and making Mademoiselle Eudoxie my sole deliverer. He seemed especially angered against Ramodanofsky, not having apparently suspected him of being so deeply committed to the scheme to defeat Sophia’s intrigues.
“It is strange,” he said thoughtfully, “how one thing leads to another. This boyar has an unsavory reputation, it appears.”