Part 21 (1/2)

”In three hours from now the spectacle will take place,” said he, with a forced laugh. ”In three hours the wedding-torches shall be lighted, and in order to make it the pleasanter, we will have the wails of the people of Berlin as a musical accompaniment.”

”In three hours, then,” said Count de Lacy, bowing low; ”I hasten to announce it to my officers. I am burning with impatience to witness this rare spectacle.”

Count de Lacy departed, and General Tottleben was again alone.

For a long time did he pace his room in abstract meditation, anger and pity, fear and terror struggling in his soul. He was perfectly aware of the danger which threatened him. He knew that Count Fermore hated him as a dangerous rival for the smiles of the empress, and only waited for a favorable opportunity to overthrow him. He was therefore obliged to yield to this cruel necessity; the Berlin armory must be sacrificed.

Suddenly his countenance lighted up, and his features a.s.sumed an expression of joy. He hastened rapidly to the door and summoned his body servant and slave, Ivan Petrowitsch. ”Ivan,” said he, with the stern and cold composure of a Russian--”Ivan, I have a commission for you, and if you are successful in its execution, I will not have your son Feodor hung, although I know that yesterday, contrary to my order, he was present at the plundering of a house.”

”Speak, master, what am I to do? I will save my son, even if it cost my own life.”

”It will cost your life, Ivan.”

”I am your property, master, and my life belongs to you,” said the serf, sadly. ”You can have me whipped to death any time it pleases you. Say, then, what I must do to save my son.”

”Fifty Cossacks are to ride immediately to the powder-mills to bring powder. You will accompany them.”

Ivan looked at him with astonishment. ”Is that all I have to do?”

asked he.

Tottleben was not yet sufficiently Russian. His German heart would a.s.sert its rights. As he met the inquiring look of Ivan, he turned his eye away. He forgot that it was only a serf he was speaking to, and not a human being.

But he soon recalled it. ”You will accompany these Cossacks to the powder-mills, I say, and as you do so you will smoke your pipe, and see that the tobacco burns well, and that you are burning tinder on top of it.”

An expression of comprehension shone in Ivan's eyes. ”I will smoke, master,” said he, sadly.

”When you are in the powder-mills, and the Cossacks are loading the powder, you will help them, and in doing so you will let the pipe fall out of your mouth,” said Tottleben, in an undertone, and his voice trembled ever so little. There was a pause--Ivan leaned, pale and trembling, against the wall. General Tottleben had turned away, as if afraid to encounter the pallid, terrified countenance of his slave.

”If you do not execute my command,” said he, finally, ”I will have your only son hung, as he deserves to be. If you betray to any one soever a word of my order, I will have your wife whipped to death. Now think of it.”

Ivan shook as if in an ague. His teeth chattered together. ”I will smoke, master,” said he, at last, with an effort, ”and I will drop my pipe in the powder-mills. Have pity on my son, master, and spare my wife!”

”I will do so, Ivan,” said Tottleben. ”I will give them both their freedom, and a pension.”

Ivan dropped his head, and a convulsive groan burst from his breast.

”Time pa.s.ses; make haste!” cried the general, with a.s.sumed harshness.

”I go, master,” sighed Ivan. ”You will not, then, string up my poor Feodor, nor have my wife whipped?”

”If you execute my order strictly and punctually, I will care for them.”

Two tears coursed slowly down Ivan's brown cheek. ”I will carry out your orders, master; I will smoke, and I will drop my pipe. Farewell, master!”

He approached his master with slavish humility, and kissed the seam of his garment. ”Farewell, master. I thank you, for you have always been a kind master to me,” said he, and his tears moistened the general's coat.

General Tottleben was as yet unable completely to convert his German heart into a Russian one. He felt himself touched by this humble and heroic submission of his slave. He felt as if he must give him some comfort on his fatal road.

”Ivan,” said he, softly, ”your death will save, perhaps, not only the property, but also the lives of many hundred other men.”

Ivan kissed pa.s.sionately his proffered hand. ”I thank you, master.