She hung her head. “I am punished for it, monsieur,” she said, with proud humility; “the whole world seemed to have forgotten me here.”
“But not I,” I said.
She glanced up swiftly and then down. “But not you, sir,” she repeated like a child, and seemed to smile, but I thought that it was the flicker of the light on her face, or my eyes deceived me.
“Come,” I said, putting aside my emotion, “are you ready? We must fly this place—now, at once, or all will be lost.”
“Am I ready?” she cried, with deep emotion. “Holy Virgin, have I not prayed to go?” and she gathered up her mantle and hood.
“Come, then,” I replied, “we must depend again on the dwarf, but I feel sure he will not fail us, and once out of this, all will be well.”
She had her cloak on now and, with trembling fingers, she tied her hood over her head and concealed her features under its full folds. Then she followed me into the hall, and I bade Maluta open the door for us, while I extinguished the lanthorn. At the threshold I took her hand in mine and felt it quiver and then lie still. Maluta crept out, peering into the dusk, and beckoned to us, and we followed cautiously, keeping close to the palace walls and avoiding the portico. The soldiers were still playing on the staircase, and here and there, in the great square, a torch streamed red fire. We gained the parvis of the cathedral and there the dwarf and I consulted and decided to go out by the gate at which we had entered, depending on our bribes, and it was fortunate that we did so, for, at the other gates, as I learned afterwards, the guards were doubled, and here my money had bought liquor, and drunkenness—their besetting sin—helped us. Two of the rogues slept at their posts, and three were quarrelling over a flagon, and, of the other two, one was the soul that Maluta had purchased, and the other I bought now for two roubles. There was some grumbling, some coarse jests about the ambassador returning with a lady, and there was need for determination and the strong hand, and I used it. The only rogue who would have plucked at Daria’s cloak and looked into her face I struck over the head with the flat of my sword, and he fell with a thud and lay so still that the others fell back, and our Streltsi crying: “Way, way for the ambassador!” we pushed through, and turning to the right, fled down the bank of the river. The cries of the guards grew fainter, the spot was very dark and lonely, the damp air from the water touched our faces softly, above us the stars shone in a serene heaven. We sped on, skirting the ramparts of the Kremlin, and presently we saw the yellow light streaming from the lamp before the image at the Gate of the Redeemer; it shone like a star in the darkness, this light that burned there night and day, year after year, reddening the snow in winter, brightening the shorter nights of summer. As we drew nearer the princess slipped her hand from mine and knelt down, facing the image, and I paused; stern as the peril was, and unsafe as the place could be, at any moment, I had not the heart to disturb her. She prayed; offering a thanksgiving doubtless, and a prayer, too, for deliverance from her danger and perhaps from me. The thought made me stir sharply, and she rose and we walked on in silence.
I had bethought me of a man in the German quarter, an honest Bavarian, who would let me hire two horses, and I sent Maluta running ahead to him with money in his hand for that purpose, and with my drawn sword in my right hand, and my left on her shoulder, we followed swiftly, avoiding every torch and every group of people, and twice stumbling over corpses, for, as yet, the dead lay unburied. We had left the Kremlin behind us and were nearing our destination, when she spoke very softly, but distinctly.
“I wish to tell you, monsieur,” she said, “that I did not wilfully leave your house. I was deceived—the men who came bore my father’s signet.”
I started; then the prince might be dead or a prisoner—but she divined my thoughts.