The Count resumed his conversation with Nello, and the other man quitted his lounging position by the fire-place, and walked down the long room to the deep bay window, from which he pretended to look out. But all the while he was listening intently to the other two.
“And now, Signor Corsini, I have a little surprise for you, and one which I hope will be welcome,” were the Count’s parting words. “The present Director of the Imperial Opera has for some time contemplated retirement. He is growing a little deaf, and finds that the infirmity militates against the proper performance of his duties. He will relinquish his post next week, and I have much pleasure in conferring the appointment upon you. I do so with the sanction of my Imperial Master, to whom I have shown the Baron’s strong letters of recommendation.”
Nello felt the room going round. Could he believe his ears? Only a few hours in St. Petersburg, and promoted to one of the most coveted posts in the musical world! Why, he was as great as Degraux. Truly, the white-haired Salmoros was a wizard, masquerading under the guise of a benevolent financier.
With a great effort he pulled himself together and stammered his thanks. “I cannot sufficiently express my gratitude, your Excellency. I shall do my best to justify your kindness. But I feel it will be no easy task to follow in the footsteps of such an illustrious predecessor.”
As soon as Nello had retired, the man who was lounging in the bay window turned round to Golitzine and shot at him the abrupt question, “Well, what do you think of him, eh? Is that shrewd old fellow Salmoros right? Will he be useful to us?”
The Count replied in respectful tones. “It is rather early to form a judgment, your Majesty; but I must own I am very favourably impressed with the young man. I think he would be as true as steel to those who had befriended him.”
Nello had little suspected that the tall middle-aged person, dressed in civilian attire, whom he had taken for an official of the Court or a personal friend of the Count’s, was the Emperor Alexander himself, the autocrat of all the Russias, supposed to be the strongest man in Europe, who could bend a horse-shoe between his fingers.
“The one thing to do now is to bring this young Italian and La Belle Quéro together.” The Emperor spoke in a musing tone. “That is what the Baron intends. And we know besides that she is suspected by our secret police. Half the men who go to her little parties are in their black books; about Zouroff, we have already pretty convincing evidence. My own belief is that she is one of the prime movers in the affair.”
“So far, of course, nothing has been brought home to her. She entertains these men, I know, but she is a foreigner, a Spaniard, and cannot be well acquainted with our domestic politics,” interjected the Count, who was rather favourably impressed with the beautiful contralto. “Still, in this direction, Corsini may be very useful. He may be able to worm something out of her.”