"I kiss the feet of the dainty Lady Natalie," he said.

Then, picking up his hat, the Baron walked off to a little distance, where he stood watching the sequel.

Paul longed to thrash the fellow for his insolence, but prudently refrained from creating a disturbance in Russian territory.

"Trevisa," said the princess, "in remembrance of your many services I remit the penalty due by law, but," and there was genuine sorrow in her tone, "you lose your secretaryship."

"Your Highness," stammered Trevisa, his whole manner showing how deeply he felt the loss of his office. "Fine. Imprisonment. Any punishment but that."

"The cipher, your Highness," murmured Zabern. "The cipher letter! We cannot do without Trevisa."

"Let me intercede for him," said Paul, bending his knee.

The princess had last heard that voice in the twilight hour by the dark blue sea on the sh.o.r.e of Isola Sacra. The memory of that event came back with a rush that almost stifled her breath.

"His only fault is," pleaded Paul, "that he has been too great a friend."

"To you, but not to our law," she murmured faintly. "My servants must not be law-breakers."

There was a brief interval of silence.

"Your Highness," said Paul, rising to his feet, "I await my sentence."

"You are safe where you stand," she faltered.

Her manner plainly besought him to remain where he was, and thus relieve her from a painful situation.

"I will not take advantage of _that_."

And by a few steps Paul pa.s.sed from the jurisdiction of the Czar to that of Barbara.

The look in her eyes was like that of a fawn at bay. Love forbade her to punish Paul, and yet, while meting punishment to others, how, without bringing reproach to herself, could she let him go free?

"Your Highness," intervened Trevisa, "my friend Captain Woodville has received extreme provocation from the duke, and when he accepted the challenge, was ignorant of the Czernovese law relating to duelling."

Barbara had heard the whole story from Zabern as she was whirled along in the droshky from Slavowitz to the frontier. She glanced at the weal that disfigured Paul's cheek, and her anger grew hot against the duke.

No! come what might, she would not punish Paul.

"I appeal to the marshal," said Trevisa boldly, "whether he would not have taken to the sword under the like provocation."

"Princess," replied Zabern, "Captain Woodville, as a soldier, had no other course than to maintain the honor of his queen's uniform." The foolish Barbara became jealous at the thought that Paul should owe allegiance to a lady other than herself. Lowering his voice to a whisper, Zabern continued, "Your Highness has authority to imprison the duke, inasmuch as he is your own subject; but you will be exceeding that authority if you venture to arrest an English citizen for an offence committed on Russian ground. Let the Russians themselves see to it."

The princess flashed a quick glance of interrogation at him.

"What would you imply? That the Russians will demand Captain Woodville's extradition?"

"I clearly foresee that they will try to make political capital out of this affair. Be sure that Baron Ostrova will give them his version of it. Always excepting your Highness and myself," continued Zabern with a grim smile, "there is no one upon whom the Russian Government would more willingly lay hands than the Englishman who prevented them from taking the Afghan fortress of Taj.a.pore."

This reference to Paul's bravery brought a glow of pride to Barbara's cheek. A new tie seemed to unite them. While she was contending with Russian intrigue in one part of the world, he had been contending with it in another.

"Captain Woodville," she said aloud, "the marshal informs me that I have no legal ground for arresting you. And as I have not the authority, so neither have I the wish to punish a soldier whose name has become known throughout Europe."

While speaking, she had drawn nearer to him, and now with a face made more beautiful by the love shining from her eyes, she whispered, "Paul, keep my secret. Come and see me at the palace. Immediately."

Paul's eyes a.s.sured her of his ready acquiescence. The princess turned to depart.

"One moment, your Highness," said Paul, humbly kneeling. "If I, the princ.i.p.al in this duel, am innocent, how can Trevisa, my second, be guilty?"

"The cases are not the same," replied the princess. "Still," she added with a smile that brought back hope to the heart of the ex-secretary, "still my decision may not be irrevocable."

Taking the proffered arm of Marshal Zabern, the princess returned to her droshky. The cavalcade then set in motion and vanished almost as mysteriously as it had appeared; and Paul was left standing there, with the overwhelming revelation that Barbara's love towards him was unchanged.

CHAPTER VI

KATINA THE PATRIOT

AS Paul and Trevisa emerged from the woodland and turned upon the highroad, there drew near a cloaked figure with steel scabbard clinking against spurs.

"Marshal Zabern!" exclaimed the ex-secretary. "How? Are you not escorting the princess to Slavowitz?"

"I have a little matter to despatch at the hostelry called 'Sobieski's Rest.' Her Highness has therefore condescended to relieve me from escort-duty."

"Your way is our way, for at that inn we left our troika. Marshal Zabern," continued Trevisa, presenting Paul, "my friend--need I mention his name?--Captain Paul Woodville."

"No man whose friendship I desire more," said Zabern, raising his plumed helmet.

He had taken a liking for Paul,--the liking of a brave soldier for a compeer.

"I have always esteemed Englishmen," continued Zabern, "since the day I ran from them at Waterloo."

"You have fought under the great Napoleon, then?" said Paul.

"For a brief s.p.a.ce. As a lad of eighteen I took part in the Moscow campaign. When Napoleon sounded the tocsin of war against Russia, who joined him with more enthusiasm than the Poles, eager to avenge their country's wrongs? Did not his emissary, the Abbe de Pradt, promise at Warsaw that his imperial master had determined to expel the Muscovites from Europe, and to replace them with Poles? Trusting to these words, sixty thousand of us marched with the Grand Army upon Moscow. Heavens!

shall I ever forget the fierce thrill of joy that pervaded our ranks as we drew rein and gazed upon the golden spires and domes of the city of the Great Enemy, flashing on the far-off horizon. Yes," continued Zabern, his eye kindling at the recollection, "yes, we took their holy city, so-called, and planted the Polish eagles upon the ramparts of the Kremlin, as our fathers had done before us in the glorious days of old."

"And it has been the dream of the marshal's life," smiled Trevisa, "to renew that experience."

"That experience, but not _this_!"

And here the speaker pushed back the sleeve of his right arm, and Paul perceived what he had not noticed before, namely, that Zabern was minus a hand.

"You know the sequel," continued the marshal. "We were compelled to retire, defeated not by superiority in valor, but by famine and the rigor of a Russian winter. And, my G.o.d! what a winter that was!"

continued Zabern, shivering as if he still felt the effects of the cold. "The frost was so intense that it penetrated flesh, sinew, and bone, rendering the limbs as white and brittle as alabaster. In repelling an attack of Cossacks I aimed a sabre-stroke at a fellow's head, feeling in the next moment a curious sensation at the wrist; and there, lying before me upon the snow, and still grasping the sabre-hilt, was my own hand. It had dropped off at the joint, as you see."

"Good G.o.d!" cried Trevisa.