"But, Ladislas," answered Katina, for she had begun to call the marshal by his Christian name: "Ladislas," she repeated, with a pressure of his arms, "love has extinguished the desire for vengeance."

"Humph! well, vengeance or no vengeance, there is a certain work to be done, and a work, too, that must be kept so secret that I dare not trust any one with the knowledge of it, save you, my second self."

"If it be a task that can be performed by a woman, let me be the one to do it."

"Good! Is not this little hand," said Zabern, raising it to his lips as he spoke, "that can use pistol so well equally skilled in handling the pen?"

"And how can my penmanship serve you?" asked Katina, with wonder in her eyes. "Oh, I see," she continued, with a mock pout, "you wish me to become your secretary, and when I bring despatches to the door, you will tell me to go to Satan, as you did to that poor fellow just now."

"This is how your pen can aid me," said Zabern. "Listen, while I reveal to you a state secret unknown even to the princess and her cabinet."

And here the marshal proceeded to whisper his communication, adding at its close, "Now you understand the work I require of you?"

"O Ladislas, Ladislas," she said, gravely shaking her head at him, "I believe you want to hang me, after all."

"I have hanged men for similar work--true. But this deed is a pardonable one, seeing that it is for the good of the state. 'The end justifies the means'--that's Cardinal Ravenna's maxim; and if a holy churchman adopts that policy, why should not the profane Zabern likewise? The plan I have suggested is the only way of defeating the knavery of Orloff, and of saving Czernova from the power of the Czar.

Your hand is more expert and delicate than mine, else would I not set it to this task. I dare not entrust its execution to any other, for it would be hazardous to admit a fourth person to the secret. The knowledge of it must be confined to Katina, Captain Woodville, and Zabern. You will do this?"

"I will do anything you ask of me," replied Katina, simply.

CHAPTER XII

THE POLISH CONSPIRACY

On the evening of the day that had witnessed the envoy's defeat a masked ball was held, and the halls and gardens of the Vistula Palace were alive with gay revellers.

The centre of attraction was the s.p.a.cious ball-room, where, beneath golden chandeliers that shed a radiance brighter than that of the sun, moved a crowd of Czernova's n.o.blest and fairest.

The picturesque character of the dresses, the glow of color, the perfume of flowers, the gayety of the music, and the rippling laughter of fair masqueraders, formed a scene bewildering and intoxicating to the senses.

Amid this throng moved Paul Woodville in eager quest of the masked Barbara, who had refrained from telling him what costume she would a.s.sume. If he were a true lover he ought to be able to penetrate her disguise, she had playfully observed, and if he failed to discover her, why then the want of discernment on his part should bring its own punishment.

As he moved here and there witching glances were cast at him by masked ladies, for as regards figure and dress, few were more qualified than Paul to serve as a cavalier.

He had adopted the old Polish costume. With a four-cornered cap adorned by a waving heron plume, silken "contuschi" that fell in graceful folds around well-shaped limbs clad in tight silk hose, short boots decorated with gold lace, and a curved, diamond-hilted sabre swinging lightly by his side, Paul walked among the men present, the n.o.blest figure of them all; and many whispering inquiries were interchanged as to his ident.i.ty.

At length Paul caught sight of a graceful figure, robed in the silver-gray habit of a nun, standing solitary by the entrance of a corridor leading from the ball-room.

He watched and saw her with a pretty shake of her head repel in silence the addresses of three cavaliers in succession.

As Paul drew near, the lady suddenly turned her head and flashed a glance at him through the eyelet-holes of her black silk vizard. That glance was sufficient, and in another moment he was by her side.

"Fair lady," he whispered, "why this sad costume?"

"Is it not the garb of innocence?" returned the lady in a low and obviously disguised voice.

"True, but it is also the negation of love."

"And why should I not frown upon love?"

"Because you would be gainsaying the vows you made to me in the old Greek temple."

"Ah, Paul! you have discovered me," she whispered, her lips smiling beneath the lace of her mask. "Now I, in turn, will ask, 'Why this old Polish costume?'"

"I adopted what I thought would most please you."

"And it does please me," she replied with a tender light in her eyes.

"And it is suitable to the character of the revelation you shall hear to-night. Come, we will not dance just yet. Take me to the gardens, to the Long Terrace."

Conscious of something odd in her manner, Paul, drawing her arm within his own, conducted Barbara from the brilliant ball-room to the quieter scene without, and on reaching a retired corner of the marble terrace, he seated her beside himself.

It was a lovely midsummer night. The air was pure and temperate, and alive with the plash and sparkle of numerous fountains. The silver orb of the moon, set in a dark-blue sky, and the colored lamps gleaming everywhere among the foliage combined to produce a poetical glamor that might have gladdened the eyes even of t.i.tania herself, the Queen of Fairyland.

"Who could have thought," said Paul, after complimenting Barbara upon the admirable manner in which she had out-manoeuvred the Russian envoy, "who could have thought when we first met in that Dalmatian forest that a great empire would one day demand my extradition, and that you would bravely refuse to grant it!"

"And I will not surrender you, Paul. No, not if it should cost me my throne."

How sweet it was to hear such words from this fair princess! She who was a match for the Czar's envoy to set such store by him! This maiden pressing tenderly to his side scarcely seemed to be the same person who that morning had filled a throne with such dignity. Nor was she.

Love had entirely transfigured her.

"Paul," she said quietly, "I have told the duke that I cannot marry him."

"How did he take the tidings?"

"He said little, but his face expressed much--"

"Much--?"

"Hatred, then, if you will have the word. Excluded from the cabinet, and from the command of the army, he is not likely to sit down quietly under such dishonoring. And," she added with a sigh, "he is a political force to be reckoned with."

"Sweet princess, give me leave to resume the duel with him, and you shall soon be rid of one whom you seem to fear."

"No, Paul, no," she said, laying her hand affectionately upon his; "promise me that you will not fight with him again."

"Does the princess command?"

"No; your Barbara entreats," she said with a soft pressure of her arm.

Who could resist such an appeal as this?

"I do not doubt your ability to overcome the duke, for Zabern has told me of your feat in the _salle d'armes_; but you forget that duelling is illegal in Czernova. Would you have me send you to the Citadel?

Moreover, if you should slay the duke it would become the aim of every Muscovite fanatic to slay you. As it is, I fear you will carry your life in your hands, when men come to learn that you are the cause of the duke's rejection. Czernova is but semi-civilized, and a.s.sa.s.sination is the favorite political weapon here. I would, Paul, that you would do even as Zabern."

"And what is Zabern's habit?"

"He wears chain-mail beneath his clothing."