While such were the feelings of Alexis, in respect to the count, those of Suvarrow, though of a lively nature, were somewhat different. He had not been told the real name and character of the merchant—for Alexis had kept his friend’s counsel in good faith; but still, the bearing of the stranger, though in general harmonizing with the part he was playing, in a multitude of instances, and especially in the affair of the Fejee islands, betrayed the fact that he was not what he would seem to be. Suvarrow was not alone in remarking this—for the captain of the ship, and the other officers had come to the same conclusion. Suvarrow had often heard them expressing their suspicions, and more than once he had listened to the suggestion that the seeming Russian merchant was the Polish count Zinski.
Under these circumstances, Suvarrow had a severe struggle between his feelings and his sense of duty. He was a Russian officer, and bound by every tie of honor to act with fidelity to the government. Could he let such a secret as this, in respect to the count, pass by, without communicating his knowledge to the emperor? While he was thus debating the question in his own mind, he was summoned to the apartment of the captain, where he found the officers of the ship assembled, together with Alexis and the count. The latter soon after rose, and addressed the captain as follows:
“Before we part, my dear sir, I have an apology to make to you and these gentlemen. It is to hear this apology that I have requested you to meet me here. I have practised a disguise, I may almost say, an imposition, upon you all. I am not a Russian merchant—but the disgraced and banished Count Zinski. I have taken this step, merely to reach St. Petersburgh. We are now approaching the city, and my object being accomplished, it is due to you and my own character to remove the mask under which I have sought and obtained your kindness and courtesy. Do not fear that either your character or mine shall suffer for this; my purpose is fixed: I shall forthwith surrender myself to the emperor.” “Here,” said he, addressing the captain, while he held a paper in his hand, “is a statement of my return: this I shall entrust to Alexis Pultova, who will bear it to the emperor. As is your duty, captain, I have to request that you will place me under a guard, that I may remain in security on board your vessel, at Cronstadt, till the will of his majesty is known. At the same time, my wish is, that my real name may not be exposed. Indeed, captain and gentlemen, if it be compatible with your sense of duty and propriety, I could wish that my whole story might for the present be held in reserve, as a matter only known to ourselves.”
As the count finished, the captain rose, and grasping his hand, was about to speak—but his voice was choked, and the tears gushed down his cheeks. In a moment, however, he recovered and said—“My dear count, I will do as you request, for I know that this is as well my duty, as your interest; I would not encourage false hopes—but, sir, I am indebted to you for my life, and for the lives of many of these friends around me. But for you, our career had ended ingloriously, at the island of Paoo. You shall not suffer for the want of due representation of this service rendered to us and to the country. If it can avail, we will go down on our knees, or lay down the lives which your gallantry purchased.”
The vessel at last approached the frowning castle of Cronstadt, and was saluted with a discharge of cannon which shook the sea to its bed and made even the stout ship stagger in her path. This was returned by the vessel—and soon after she entered one of the docks provided for the Russian fleet.
After taking an affectionate leave of the count, and other officers, Suvarrow and Alexis set out immediately for St. Petersburgh, where they arrived late in the evening. The latter proceeded immediately to the place where he expected to obtain letters from Tobolsk; but judge of his disappointment to find that none awaited him! With a heavy heart he returned to the hotel where he had taken lodgings—but as he was about to ascend the steps, his arms were seized by a rough, strong hand, and turning suddenly round, he recognised the well-known features of old Linsk!
Story of Philip Brusque.
CHAPTER XIII.
The little nation of Fredonia, was now in a happy and prosperous condition. It is true that they had not the means of living luxuriously, but still they possessed all that was necessary to comfort. It must be remembered that they had no such things as axes, saws, knives, nor any of those tools made of iron, which are so common with us, and which are so useful in many ways. It is with iron tools that we cut down trees for fuel, for houses, and furniture: it is with tools of iron that we make all the machines by which we cultivate the earth, and weave cloths of every kind. It is, therefore, by means of iron, that we, in civilized society, obtain furniture, food and dwellings. So important is this metal in the affairs of life, that one of the greatest distinctions between civilized and savage nations, is that the former possess it and know its use, while the latter are generally destitute of it. Iron is therefore much more important than gold or silver—for nations may possess the latter, while they are yet barbarous. The Indians of Mexico and Peru had abundance of gold and silver, when discovered three hundred and fifty years ago; yet they had no iron, and therefore no good cutting tools. Accordingly, they had no very fine or perfect manufactures.
Some circumstances occurred at Fredonia, which made the use of iron very apparent. In building their houses, and making their furniture, the people of the island often wished they had saws, and axes, and planes. How much time these tools would have saved! They were obliged to use sharp stones for cutting down trees and shaping them, as they desired. It, therefore, often took a man a week to do a job, which he might have performed much better in an hour, with a carpenter’s axe.