Part 3 (1/2)
”Right you are, Peter Nichols. Lay for'rad and tell the bos'n to show you up to my cabin.”
So Peter Nichols went forward, avoiding the cargo aft, until within a day's run of the Bosphorus when he found himself accosted by no less a person than Prince Galitzin who had strolled out to get the morning air.
He tried to avoid the man but Galitzin planted himself firmly in his path, scrutinizing him eagerly.
”You too, Highness!” he said with an accent of grieved surprise.
The Grand Duke regarded him in a moment of silence.
”It must be evident to you, Prince Galitzin, that I have some object in remaining unknown.”
”But, Your Highness, such a thing is unnecessary. Are we not all dedicated to the same misfortunes? Misery loves company.”
”You mean that it makes you less miserable to discover that I share your fate?”
”Not precisely that. It is merely that if one holding your liberal views cannot escape the holocaust that has suddenly fallen there is little hope for the rest of us.”
”No,” said the Grand Duke shortly. ”There is no hope, none at all, for us or for Russia.”
”Where are you going?”
”To America.”
”But, your Highness, that is impossible. We shall all have asylum in England until conditions change. You should go there with us. It will lend influence to our mission.”
”No.”
”Why?”
”I am leaving Russia for the present. She is outcast. For, not content with betraying others, she has betrayed herself.”
”But what are you going to do?”
Peter Nicholaevitch smiled up at the sky and the fussy, fat, bejeweled sycophant before him listened to him in amazement.
”Prince Galitzin,” said the Grand Duke amusedly, ”I am going to do that which may bring the blush of shame to your brow or the sneer of pity to your lips. I am going to fulfill the destiny provided for every man with a pair of strong hands, and a willing spirit--I am going to work.”
The Prince stepped back a pace, his watery eyes snapping in incomprehension.
”But your higher destiny--your great heritage as a Prince of the Royal blood of Holy Russia.”
”There is no Holy Russia, my friend, until she is born again. Russia is worse than traitor, worse than liar, worse than murderer and thief. She is a fool.”
”All will come right in time. We go to England to wait.”
”I have other plans.”
”Then you will not join us? Princess Anastasie, my daughter, is here.
General Seminoff----”