Part 44 (1/2)
”Leave such things to Markoff or to Hartwig. They are not women's business,” he cried impatiently. ”Rather explain your conduct in England. From what I hear, you have so far forgotten what is due to your rank and station as to fall in love with some commoner! Markoff made a long report about it the other day. I have it somewhere,” and he glanced back upon his littered table, whereon lay piled the affairs of a great and powerful Empire.
Her cheeks flushed slightly, and I saw that her white-gloved hand twitched nervously. We had travelled together from Petersburg, and upon the journey she had been silent and thoughtful, bracing herself up for an ordeal.
”I care not a jot for any report of General Markoff's,” she replied boldly. ”Indeed, it was mainly to speak of him that I have asked for audience to-day.”
”To tell me something against him, I suppose, just because he has discovered your escapades in England--because he has dared to tell me the truth--eh, Tattie?” he said, with a dry laugh. ”So like a woman!”
”If he has told you the truth about me, then it is the first time he has ever told Your Majesty the truth,” she said, looking straight at the Emperor.
The Sovereign glanced first at her with quick surprise and then at myself.
”Her Imperial Highness has something to report to Your Majesty, something of a very grave and important nature,” I ventured to remark.
”Eh? Eh?” asked the big bearded man, in his quick, impetuous way.
”Something grave--eh? Well, Tattie, what is it?”
The girl, pale and agitated, held her breath for a few moments. Then she said:
”I know, uncle, that you consider me a giddy, incorrigible flirt.
Perhaps I am. But, nevertheless, I am in possession of a secret--a secret which, as it affects the welfare of the nation and of the dynasty, it is, I consider, my duty to reveal to you.”
”Ah! Revolutionists again!”
”I beg of you to listen, uncle,” she urged. ”I have several more serious matters to place before you.”
”Very well,” he replied, smiling as though humouring her. ”I am listening. Only pray be brief, won't you?”
”You will recollect the attempt planned to be made in the Nevski on the early morning of our arrival from the Crimea, and in connection with that plot a lady, a friend of mine and of Mr Trewinnard's, named Madame de Rosen, and her daughter Luba were arrested and sent by administrative process to Siberia?”
”Certainly. Trewinnard went recently on a quixotic mission to the distressed ladies,” he laughed. ”But why, my dear child, refer to them further? They were conspirators, and I really have no interest in their welfare. The elder woman is, I understand, dead.”
”Yes,” the Grand d.u.c.h.ess cried fiercely; ”killed by exposure, at the orders of General Serge Markoff.”
”Oh!” he exclaimed, ”then you have come here to denounce poor Markoff as an a.s.sa.s.sin--eh? This is really most interesting.”
”What I have to relate to Your Majesty will, I believe, be found of considerable interest,” she said, now quite calm and determined. ”True, I have charged Serge Markoff with the illegal arrest and the subsequent death of an innocent woman. It is for me now to prove it.”
”Certainly,” said His Imperial Majesty, settling himself in his big chair, and placing the tips of his strong white fingers together in an att.i.tude of listening.
”Then I wish to reveal to you a few facts concerning this man who wields such wide and autocratic power in our Russia--this man who is the real oppressor of our nation, and who is so cleverly misleading and terrorising its ruler.”
”Tattie! What are you saying?”
”You will learn when I have finished,” she said. ”I am only a girl, I admit, but I know the truth--the scandalous truth--how you, the Emperor, are daily deceived and made a catspaw by your clever and unscrupulous Chief of Secret Police.”
”Speak. I am all attention,” he said, his brows darkening.
”I have referred to poor Marya de Rosen,” said the girl, leaning her elbow upon the arm of the chair and looking straight into her uncle's face. ”If the truth be told, Marya and Serge Markoff had been acquainted for a very long time. Two years after the death of her husband, Felix de Rosen, the wealthy banker of Odessa and Warsaw, Serge Markoff, in order to obtain her money, married her.”
”Married her!” echoed the Emperor in a loud voice. ”Can you prove this?”
”Yes. Three years ago, when I was living with my father in Paris, I went alone one morning to the Russian Church in the Rue Daru, where, to my utter amazement, I found a quiet marriage-service in progress. The contracting parties were none other than General Markoff and the widow, Madame de Rosen. Beyond the priest and the sacristan, I was the only person in possession of the truth. They both returned to Petersburg next day, but agreed to keep their marriage secret, as the General was cunning enough to know that marriage would probably interfere with his advancement and probably cause Your Majesty displeasure.”