And in this order we proceeded out of the painted gallery into the chapel again and to the door on the other side: Maluta first, then the princess, and last the new-made husband—a rôle in which I confess I did not know myself. The chapel was deserted, and only one taper burned before the iconostase, and in the dim light I stumbled once and suppressed an exclamation, but the dwarf and Daria walked on, surely and swiftly, passing out into a gallery lighted from above, and coming at once to a long flight of stone steps that led down and down, seemingly to the cellar, for a light shone across them half-way down, where they opened on a landing, and the lower part again dropped into darkness. On either side were sheer walls, groined and arched above us, save at the landing where, as I have said, there was an opening. We paused at the top and listened; there was no sound below us on the stair, though there were confused noises echoing from other portions of the building, and an awful consciousness prevailed that the death work went on merrily below and around us.
Satisfied that no one was on the stair, Maluta started down ahead of us, lightly and softly, as he alone could tread, swinging forward to listen, his long monkey-like arms dangling at his sides, his wing-like ears standing out more than ever. The princess was about to follow him, but a sudden thought made me stop her.
“Permit me, madame,” I said, and walked ahead of her, pistol in hand; “it is better that I precede you here.”
She assented quietly, drawing aside more sharply, I thought, than need be, to let me pass. However, there was no time for quibbles, and I descended cautiously, content to feel that she was with me. We had gone down, perhaps ten or fifteen steps, and were, therefore, about as far from the landing, when there was a sudden burst of sound from the left, as if a door had opened somewhere and let out pandemonium, and Maluta stopped, stooping down to listen. But even he was taken by surprise when a man leaped from the gallery below on to the landing and came up toward us, running madly, so blind, indeed, that he nearly stumbled over the dwarf and cried out in terror when he saw us. His rich dress was covered with dust and blood, and his eyes were starting out of his head. He gave us a wild look and was about to turn and dive down the stairs, when I called out to him in Russ.
“Have no fear, we will not harm you—where is the danger?”
“The Streltsi!” he cried; “they’re after me,” and seeing that we made no effort to bar his way, he leaped up two steps at a time, brushing past us, and rushed into the chapel.
And before we could either advance or retreat, we heard his pursuers coming toward the landing.
“Back!” I cried, and the princess, foreseeing the danger as quickly as I, turned with me, and we all ran back up the stairs, in hopes of reaching the chapel before the rioters gained the landing.
The princess was ahead of me and laid her hand on the door just as I reached it.
“It is locked!” she cried, and there was a tremor in her voice.