CHAPTER X
A PILGRIM AND A WAYFARER
“We passed through the tunnel easily enough, except that Francezka”—he spoke her name unconsciously—“was frightened to tears by the toads. She, a Kirkpatrick, wept with terror at a harmless toad, but when it comes to real danger, she is as brave as my sword. We got to the market-place, just as the drenching rain came down. There was an inn near-by, and we ran to that for shelter. We were well received, no one suspecting anything, and ordered breakfast in a private room. We heard the people about the inn discussing Count Saxe’s escape, and we concluded he had got away safely. It lifted a load from our hearts. We were very merry while we were at breakfast. It seemed no more than a delightful escapade, and we spoke of how we should tell it in the saloons of Paris. We were afraid, however, it would sound very tame.”
This was the way these two young people took their predicament to heart—a predicament which involved the reputation of the one and the life of the other!
“After we had breakfasted, Francezka retired to a room to rest, and I slipped into the town to learn something of Madame Riano. It was then about six o’clock, and cataracts of rain poured. I went straight 111 to the palace. Just as I came near it, a traveling chaise with an escort of dragoons rolled out of the gates. On the box of the chaise sat old Peter, Madame Riano’s man, and within was Madame Riano, alone. She had her head out of the chaise window, haranguing the dragoon officer upon the iniquity of so treating a Kirkpatrick, the widow of a grandee of Spain five times over, of the Ricos Hombres, whatever that may be—whom the Queen of Spain rose to greet, and much more of the same sort. To this the dragoon officer paid no attention, and the party rattled and clattered off.
“Here was a predicament, was it not? I managed to get speech of some of the servants in the palace, and found that Madame Riano’s tongue had got her in serious trouble with the Russians, with whom the Duchess Anna Iwanowna had taken sides vigorously, and Madame Riano was being escorted to the Russian frontier in consequence. I doubted if they really meant to be so severe on her, but that was not the question. It was how to put Francezka under proper protection, according to Count Saxe’s directions. I managed, by bribing the servants, to be smuggled into the palace. I did not suppose the duchess to be out of her bed, but I found she had not been in it since the ball closed. She was bent on being revenged on Count Saxe. I had done his bidding only too well, having told at least a dozen ladies of his high regard for the duchess’s worth—and she longed then for news of his capture. Instead of that, she had found out that he had got away.
“She stormed like fury at that, and in the midst of it Madame Riano was brought in. I judge the meeting between the two ladies was like an irresistible 112 force meeting with an immovable body. The very rooks on the palace roofs soared away, cawing in terror, and the dogs in the kitchens, with their tails between their legs, skulked into hiding places. You may imagine this was not an auspicious time for me to appear with a request that the duchess take charge of Madame Riano’s niece. I own that when I at last succeeded in getting into the duchess’s august presence I thought she would eat me up, crunching my bones and lapping my blood. However, I ventured to ask protection for Mademoiselle Capello, and the duchess swore like a trooper—yes, actually swore. She demanded I should tell her where Count Saxe proposed to take refuge. I refused. She said:
“‘Sir, you shall tell or you shall hang.’
“‘Madame,’ said I, ‘I will neither tell nor hang.’