“Go then, sir,” she said bitterly; “it seems I have no choice; though I am a princess!”
I bent low before her.
“Madame,” I said firmly, “you are not only a princess, but you are a queen, and I, your subject to obey and serve you!”
Then I turned to go for the signet and to save her, if I could. And as I passed out of the painted gallery, I saw her still at the window, a beautiful, passive figure, with a colourless face, and eyes that seemed to burn with some suppressed emotion as they followed me—with a look of deep perplexity and doubt.
XVIII: AN HOUR OF PERIL
WHEN I opened the door into the apartment which held Kurakin I found Maluta sitting on the floor, cross-legged, his elbows on his knees, his sharp chin in his hands, and his ferret-like eyes fastened on our prisoner with an expression of malice that reminded me that he had once been cast off by this boyar. The Russian nobleman, meanwhile, remained where we had bound him to the settle. It was true that his position was one of peculiar humiliation, and I could not blame him for any violence of feeling against me. I, in his place, would undoubtedly have meditated murder, and I knew that he did, when I saw his savage, bloodshot eyes. Moreover, afraid of an outcry, the dwarf had gagged him with a handkerchief, and his discomfort added to his rage. I think he had divined the trick that I had played upon him, or Maluta had twitted him with it, for the expression of his flushed and distorted face was that of a man goaded to the border of madness, but he could not speak and I could not remove the gag. A shout for help might have ruined us, and the only alternative, assassination, while it might have suited the dwarf, was not to my taste, so I left the gag in place. I looked at his hands at once, however, for the signet, and saw it, conspicuous enough, although he wore many rings, but this one bore the imperial arms, and I took it from his finger without more ado. The Princess Daria’s life and my own might hang upon it, and it was no time for squeamishness.
“Pardon me, monsieur,” I said calmly, “but I must even borrow the czarevna’s signet, in a matter of life and death; your clothes, too, serve the same purpose, so I must leave you to your reflections. It is wiser, monsieur, to avoid intrigues and to eschew all attempts to coerce a noble lady.” I said this, having myself just married one without her consent.
He sputtered; he could do no more with the gag, but I never saw such hatred before or since, in a man’s eye, or—thanks be to the Virgin—in a woman’s. But I wasted no time on him; signing to Maluta to follow me, I went out again into the painted gallery, and locking the door on the outside, thrust the key into my bosom. I still wore the boyar’s dress, and thought it best to wear it until I could get out of the palace.
The princess still stood in the window; I do not believe she saw anything of the scenes below, however, or heard the noises; her face was as still as chiselled marble, and it seemed to me she scarcely breathed.
I turned to the indefatigable dwarf.