“The Czarevna Sophia means mischief to the Princess Daria,” said Maluta’s voice.
Then I went to the window with a sudden resolve to do or die. As I looked out an awful shout came from the rioters; there was a rush upon the staircase, and the Boyar Dolgoruky, he who had just ordered them to disperse, was hurled down upon their spears. It was over in a moment, and they trampled him under foot. The bright blades dripped now with crimson, and the yelp of the wolf who laps blood came up. I saw them seize the chancellor and hurl him down upon their spears, as they would have hurled a bag of salt.
But I had no time to lose; I tried the iron fretwork beside the window. Then I went back to the door and shouted to Maluta, for the tumult almost drowned my voice.
“Go to the room above, below the roof, and wait there—if I can climb to the window ledge, I will join you there,” I said, and heard his assent before I returned to my desperate attempt.
I took off my shoes and bound them at my waist by my scarf, and leaping on the sill in my stocking feet stood a moment, looking down on a scene of blood. The yell of the mob and the screams of the dying came up together. The body of Matveief had been hacked to pieces; blood flowed on the Red Staircase, blood dripped alike from hands and weapons and smeared their faces with a hideous ruddiness. The mob was no longer densely massed, it was breaking asunder, into small parties in pursuit of victims. Every boyar, every man of rank, was a suspect, and he stood chance of a trial unless he was known to be of the Miloslavsky party. Even the horses in the carriages were cut down, that not a noble might escape. I saw two men killed while I stood there, and then I swung myself out on the ledge of the window and, seizing the iron-work, began to ascend, expecting every moment that it would give way and hurl me headlong on the spears below. But it held, and I was half-way up, I saw Maluta’s wing-eared face above me, over the window-sill. I had but a few yards to climb when a shrill yell immediately below told me that I had been seen; they would, of course, mistake me for one of their enemies, yet could only move slowly and with the greatest care, and, meanwhile, I was a conspicuous mark. Another yell, and then a stone struck the wall below my feet, another at my side, a fourth took me fairly in the small of my back, but I had gained a yard, my hand was on the window-sill. Then I heard a bullet sing past me, and the report of a pistol; someone had fired from the porch. It missed, but now the roar came up, like the roar of thunder. I heard a dying man scream, and, at the instant, caught the window-sill and swung forward, landing fairly on it, just as another bullet cut through my sleeve.
I leaped upon the sill and, looking down at those hideous faces, kissed my hand derisively to them, and sprang back into the room beside Maluta—safe, by a hair’s-breadth.
XV: PRINCESS AND CZAREVNA
I FOUND myself in a low room beneath the roof, belonging, doubtless, to one of the servants of the palace, and but plainly furnished. Maluta greeted me eagerly, with every evidence of joy; and while I put on my shoes and hastily arranged my disordered dress, he told me all he knew, screaming it at the top of his shrill voice, for even there—under the very eaves—the mighty cry of the mob, in its fury, leaped up and echoed, drowning all minor sounds, as the roar of the cataract swallows up the murmur of the river.
The dwarf had lost sight of me the day before, when I entered the czarevna’s presence, and had suspected my fate when he found I did not reappear, but, with all his cleverness, it had been long before he could locate me. In fact, he had not done so until Maître le Bastien and Michaud came out and were taken to Prince Galitsyn. It seemed that there had been a long and stormy scene between the prince and Sophia Alexeievna, and Maluta was plainly of the opinion that, whatever transpired at the interview, it had been an unfortunate one. The czarevna was known to be in a stormy mood, and though Galitsyn was there, and taking a leading part in affairs, he was under a ban, so far as his imperial mistress was concerned. Then the dwarf described the arrival of Prince Voronin and his daughter, and there had been a scene, he knew, between the latter and the czarevna. The old prince had been separated from his daughter, and both were under arrest, and Maluta feared the worst, with the mob yelping below us, and Sophia and the Miloslavskys supreme. He told me that the Czarina Natalia could do nothing more than save the life of the little czar, that the soldiers had already forced an entrance into the palace and could not be controlled even by the patriarch. As he spoke, I heard their yells within as well as without the building, and the continuous cry of “Give us the traitors! Down with the Naryshkins!”
I had controlled my impatience long enough to hear his story, that I might have a clearer comprehension of the situation, and now I was ready to act.