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CHICAGO AND NEW YORK:
BELFORD, CLARKE AND COMPANY,
PUBLISHERS
(1883?)
Across Europe —— half-way across Asia —— for the sake of an hour's interview with a Russian political prisoner! It was a wild scheme, but I was determined to carry it out If my plan was a mad one, I would, at least, insure a chance of its success by putting all the method I could in my preparations. I would not rush wildly to my journey's end and find it rendered fruitless by the stupidity or suspicion of some one vested with brief authority. No; I must go armed with credentials which no one would dare to dispute. Money, one of the most important of all, I had plenty of, and was ready to use freely; but there were others which were indispensable; my first step would be to obtain these. I could go quietly and systematically to work, for it would be days before I could venture to leave Pauline. Only when all chance of danger was at an end could I begin my journey.
So during those days whilst the poor girl was gradually, but very, very slowly, regaining strength, I looked up what friends I possessed among the great people of the land, until I found one whose position was such that he could ask a favor of a far greater man than himself, and, moreover, expect that it should be granted without delay. He did this for my sake with such efficacy that I received a letter of introduction to the English ambassador at St. Petersburg, and also the copy of a letter which had been forwarded him containing instructions on my behalf. Each of the letters bore an autograph which would insure every assistance being given to me. With these, and the addition of a letter of credit for a large amount on a St. Petersburg bank, I was ready to start.
But before I left, Pauline's safety and well-being during these months of absence must be considered. The difficulties this presented almost made me abandon, or, at least, postpone, the execution of my plan. Yet I knew it must be carried out to the very letter, or Macari's lie would ever stand between my wife and myself. Better I should go at once, while we were strangers; better, if Ceneri byword or silence confirmed the shameful tale, that we should never meet again!
Pauline would be left in good hands. Priscilla would do my bidding faithfully and fully. The old woman was by this time quite aware that her charge had awakened to both memory and new forgetfulness. She knew the reason why for days and days I had not even entered the room. She knew that I considered Pauline, in her present state, no more my wife than when I first met her in Turin. She knew that some mystery was attached to our relations with each other, and that I was bound upon a long journey to clear this up. She was content with this knowledge, or sought to obtain no more than I chose to give her.
My instructions were minute. As soon as she was well enough Pauline was to be taken to the seaside. Everything was to be done for her comfort and according to her wishes. If she grew curious she was to be told that some near relation, who was now journeying abroad, had placed her in Priscilla's hands, where she was to stay until his return. But, unless the recollection of the past few months came to her, she was to be told nothing as to her true position as my wife. Indeed, I doubted now if she was legally my wife —— whether, if she wished, she might not annul the marriage by stating that at the time it took place she was not in her right mind. When I returned from my expedition —— if things were right, as I told myself they must be, all would have to be begun again from the beginning.
I had ascertained that, since the departure of the fever, Pauline had said nothing about the terrible deed she had witnessed three years ago. I feared that when her health was re-established her first wish would be to make some stir in the matter. It was hard to see what she could possibly do. Macari, I learned, had left England the day after I accused him of crime; Ceneri was out of reach. I hoped that Pauline might be induced to remain quiet until my return; and I instructed Priscilla, in the event of her recurring to the subject of a great crime committed by persons she knew, to inform her that all was being done to bring the guilty to their deserts I trusted she would, with her usual docility, rest contented with this scarcely correct assertion.
Priscilla was to write to me —— to St. Petersburg, Moscow, and other places I must stop at, going and returning. I left directed envelopes with her, and would send from St. Petersburg instructions as to the dates when the various letters should be posted. And then all I could think of was done.
All except one thing. To-morrow morning I must start. My passport is duly signed; my trunks are packed —— every thing ready. Once, once for a moment I must see her before I sleep to-night —— see her it may be for the last time. She was sleeping soundly —— Priscilla told me so. Once more I must look upon that beautiful face that I may carry its exact image with me for thousands of miles!
I crept upstairs and entered her room. I stood by the bedside and gazed with eyes full of tears on my wife —— yet not my wife. I felt like a criminal, a desecrator, so little right, I knew, I had to be in that room. Her pale pure face lay on the pillow —— the fairest face in all the world to me. Her bosom rose and fell with her soft regular breathing. Fair and white as an angel she looked, and I swore, as I gazed on her, that no word of man should make me doubt her innocence. Yet I would go to Siberia.
I would have given worlds for the right to lay my lips on hers! to have been able to awake her with a kiss, and see those long dark lashes rise, and her eyes beam with love for me. Even as it was I could not refrain from kissing her gently on the temple, just where the soft thick hair began to grow. She stirred in her sleep, her eyelids quivered, and like one detected at the commencement of a crime, I fled.
The next day I was hundreds of miles away, and my mind was in a sterner frame. If when I reached, if ever I did reach, Ceneri, I found that Macari had not lied —— found that I had been fooled, cajoled, made a tool of, I should, at least, have the grim consolation of revenge. I should be able to gloat upon the misery of the man who had deceived me and used me for his own purposes. I should see him dragging out his wretched life in chains and degradation I should see him a slave, beaten and ill-treated. If this was the only reward I should reap it would repay me for my long journey. Perhaps, considering all that had passed and my present anxiety and dread, this unchristian state of mind was not unnatural to an ordinary son of Adam.
St. Petersburg at last! The letter I bear, and the letter already received on my account, insure me a gracious reception from her majesty's noble representative in the Russian capital. My request is listened to attentively; not scouted as ridiculous. I am told it is unprecedented, but the words impossible to be granted are not used. There are difficulties, great difficulties, in the way, but, as my business is purely of a domestic nature, with no political tendency, and as the letters bear the magic autograph of a person whom the noble lord is eager to oblige, I am not told that the obstacles are insuperable. I must wait patiently for days, it may be weeks, but I can be sure that everything will be done that can be done. There is, at present, or so the newspapers say, a little friction between the two Governments. Sometimes this is shown by requests more simple than mine being refused. Still, we shall see ————
Meanwhile, who is the prisoner, and where is he?
Ah! that I cannot say. I only know him as a doctor named Ceneri —— an Italian —— an apostle of freedom —— patriot —— conspirator. I was not foolish enough to imagine he had been tried and sentenced under the name I knew him by. I supposed this to be a false one.
Lord ———— was certain that no one of that name has been sentenced within the last few months. That mattered little. Permission accorded, with the data I had given, the man would at once be identified by the police. Now, good-morning —— as soon as possible I should hear from the embassy.
"And one word of caution, Mr. Vaughan," said his lordship. "You are not in England. Remember that a hasty word, even a look; a casual remark to any stranger you sit next at dinner, may utterly defeat your ends. The system of government here is different from ours."
I thanked him for his advice, although I needed no warning. The truth is that an Englishman in Russia has an even exaggerated dread of spies and the consequences of a loose tongue. More of us are looked upon with suspicion from our taciturnity than from our garrulity. I was not likely to err on the latter point.
I went back to my hotel, and for the next few days whiled away the time as best I could. Not that, under ordinary circumstances, I should have found much difficulty in so doing. St. Petersburg was one of the places I had always wished to visit. Its sights were new and strange to me; its customs worth studying; but I took little interest in anything I saw. I was longing to be away in pursuit of Ceneri.
I was not foolish enough to pester the ambassador and make myself a nuisance. Believing he would do all he could, I waited patiently and in silence until I received a letter asking me to call at the embassy. Lord ———— received me kindly.
"It is all settled," he said. "You will go to Siberia armed with authority which the most ignorant jailor or soldier will recognize. Of course, I have pledged my honor that in no way will you connive at the convict's escape —— that your business is purely private."
I expressed my thanks, and asked for instructions.
"First of all," he said, "my instructions are to take you to the palace. The Czar desires to see the eccentric Englishman who wishes to make such a long journey in order to ask a few questions."
I would right willingly have declined the honor, but as there was no chance of escaping from it, nerved myself to meet the autocrat as well as I could. The ambassador's carriage was at the door, and in a few minutes we were driven to the Imperial Palace.
I retain a confused recollection of gigantic sentries, glittering officers, grave-looking ushers and other officials; noble staircases and halls; paintings, statues, tapestry and gilding; then, following my conductor, I entered a large apartment, at one end of which stood a tall noble-looking man in military attire; and I realized that I was in the presence of him whose nod could sway millions and millions of his fellow-creatures —— the Emperor of all the Russias —— the White Czar Alexander II. —— the sovereign whose rule stretches from the highest civilization of Europe to the lowest barbarism of Asia.
Two years ago when the news of his cruel death reached England, I thought of him as l saw him that day —— in the prime of life, tall, commanding and gracious —— a man it does one good to look at. Whether —— if the whole truth of his great ancestor Catharine the Second's frailties were known —— the blood of a peasant or a king ran in his veins, he looked every inch a ruler of men, a splendid despot.
To me he was particularly kind and condescending. His manner set me as much at my ease as it is possible for a man to be in such august company. Lord ———— presented me by name, and after a proper reverence I waited the Czar's commands.
He looked at me for a second from his towering height. Then he spoke to me in French, fluently and without much foreign accent:
"I am told you wish to go to Siberia?"
"With your majesty's gracious permission."
"To see a political prisoner. Is that so?"
I replied in the affirmative.
"It is a long journey for such a purpose."
"My business is of the most vital importance, your majesty."
"Private importance, I understand from Lord ————."
He spoke in a quick, stern way which showed that he admitted of no prevarication. I hastened to assure him of the purely private nature of my desired interview with the criminal.
"Is he a dear friend of yours?"
"Rather an enemy, your majesty; but my happiness and my wife's happiness are at stake."
He smiled at my explanation. "You English are good to your wives. Very well, Mr. Vaughan, it shall be as you wish. The Minister of the Interior will provide you with the fullest passports and authorities. Bon voyage."
Thus dismissed, I bowed myself out, praying mentally that no red-tapism or bureaucracy might delay the transmission of the promised documents.
In three days I received them. The passport authorized me to travel to the end of the Czar's Asiatic dominions if I thought fit, and was worded in such a way that it obviated the necessity of obtaining a fresh passport whenever a fresh government district was to be traversed. It was not until I found the trouble, annoyance, and delay I was saved by this magic strip of paper, that I fully realized how much favor had been shown me. Those few words of writing, unintelligible to me, were a magic spell, the potency of which none are to resist. .
But now, armed with power to travel, the question was, where must I go? To ascertain this, I was taken to one of the heads of the police. To him I explained my case. I described Ceneri, gave him what I supposed was about the date of his crime and trial, and begged for information as to the best means to adopt to find him in the place of his banishment.
I was most civilly treated. Indeed, for courtesy commend me to the Russian official when you are properly and powerfully accredited. Ceneri was at once identified, and his right name and secret history given to me. I recognized the name at once.
There is no need to make it public. There are many men in Europe who believe in the disinterested character and noble aims of the unfortunate convict; men who mourn him as a martyr. Perhaps in the cause of liberty he was single-hearted and noble-minded. Why should I distress his followers by revealing any dark secrets of his private life? Let him be, so far as I am concerned, Dr. Ceneri to the end.
I learned from the suave, obliging Russian chief of police, that a few weeks after I had seen him in Geneva, Ceneri had been arrested in St. Petersburg. A deeply laid plot, involving the assassination of the Czar and several members of the government, had been revealed through the treachery of a confederate. The police fully cognizant of everything, had waited until the pear was nearly ripe, and then struck with dire results to the plotters. Scarcely one of the principals escaped and Ceneri, one of the most deeply implicated, was shown scant mercy. He certainly had few claims on their consideration. He was no Russian groaning under oppression and despotic government. Although he called himself Italian, he was, in truth, cosmopolitan. One of those restless spirits who wish to overturn all forms of government, save that of republican. He had plotted and schemed —— even fought like a man —— for Italian freedom. He had been one of Garibaldi's most trusted workmen; but had turned fiercely against his master when he found Italy was to be a kingdom, not the ideal republic of his dreams. Latterly he had directed his attention to Russia, and the plot he was engaged in having been betrayed, his career, in all human probability, was ended. After lying many months in the fortress of St. Peter and St. Paul, he was tried and condemned to twenty years' hard labor in Siberia. Some months ago he had been dispatched to his destination, and, my informant added, was considered to have been dealt with most leniently.
Where was he now? That could not be said for certain. He might be at the Kara gold washings, at the Ustkutsk salt-works, at Troitsk, at Nertschinsk. All convicts were first sent to Tobolsk, which was a kind of general rendezvous; thence they were drafted off, at the pleasure of the Governor-General, to various places and various occupations.
If I wished, the Governor of Tobolsk should be telegraphed or written to; but, as I was bound any way to go to that town, it would be just as well if I made my inquiries in person. To this I quite agreed, mistrusting the speed of the Russian post or the newly opened telegraph. I was ready to start to-morrow.
So, after getting all the hints and information I could, I thanked the chief for his courtesy, and with my precious papers in my pocket, went to complete my preparations for my journey; a journey which might be a thousand or two thousand miles longer or shorter, according to where it had pleased the Governor of Tobolsk to bestow the wretched Ceneri.
Before I started I received a letter from Priscilla —— one of those labored and rather misty epistles usually written by people of her station in life. It told me that Pauline was well; that she was willing to be guided by Priscilla's advice, and to remain with her until the return of her unknown relation or friend. "But, Master Gilbert," the letter went on, "I am sorry to say I believe she is not quite right at times. The poor young lady talks wildly about an awful crime; but she says she is content to wait for justice to be done, as some one she has seen in her dreams during her illness is working for her. She doesn't know who it is, but it is some one who knows everything."
This intelligence made me feel easier. Not only did it show me that Pauline would wait quietly until my return, but also that some glimmering of the immediate past might be dawning upon her. The closing lines of Priscilla's letter made my heart beat with hope.
"This afternoon, Master Gilbert, she seemed to discover for the first time that she had a wedding ring on her finger. She asked me how it came there. I told her I could not say. Then she sat for hours and hours twisting it round and round, thinking and thinking. I asked her, at last, what she was thinking of. 'Dreams I am trying to remember,' said she, with that pretty quiet smile of hers. I was dying to tell the dear young lady that she was my own master's lawful wife. I was afraid she would take the ring off, but she didn't, thank God!"
Yes, thank God, she did not! As I read Priscilla's letter I yearned to turn homeward and fly back to my wife. But I conquered the inclination, although I felt more and more certain that my meeting with Ceneri would be a happy one for me; that I should return, and, if necessary, once more place that ring on her finger and claim her as my own, knowing that she was purer than the gold of which that shining circlet was made.
Pauline! my beautiful Pauline! my wife, my love, we shall be happy yet!
The next day I started for Siberia.
(End of chapter ten)
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