"Insulted? Why that word?" said the duke, striving to conceal his alarm under an a.s.sumption of dignity.

"Because while simulating affection for me you were secretly intriguing with my enemies."

"You have been listening to the aspersions of Zabern."

"I have been listening to the words of Lipski. Ah! you start, my lord, and well you may. You are not yet aware--for the affair was carried out very quietly--that a raid was made this afternoon upon Lipski's premises. His cellars were found to contain a vast store of arms. In the house, too, was a number of Russian agents, among them the spy, Ivan Russakoff. Lipski has made full confession."

"Of what?" muttered the duke, looking thunderstruck at the princess's statement.

"Of many things. Here is one. About a twelve-month ago there was established a new journal ent.i.tled the 'Kolokol,' mainly devoted to the libelling of myself and to the stirring-up of civil strife. Before the founding of that newspaper the Muscovites of Russograd were as loyal and law-abiding as the Poles themselves; under the influence of the 'Kolokol,' however, they have become restless, disorderly, inclined to sedition. Was that well done, John Lilieski?"

"What has this to do with me?"

"Much, for though Lipski might be editor, yet he who actually owned the paper, financed it, and secretly controlled its policy was none other than the Duke of Bora."

"A fable of Lipski's, invented to please the princess's ministers."

"We will see whether you adhere to that statement in the presence of Lipski, for you shall have the opportunity of facing your accuser. He likewise avers that his measure, the Secular Appropriation Bill, was in reality your work; he simply acted as your mouthpiece in the Diet.

The money with which he corrupted the deputies was supplied by you, and came from Orloff, the governor-general of Warsaw."

"A falsehood. I affirm the story to be a falsehood."

"You devised a plot for the destruction of the Czernovese Charter. You wrote to Orloff desiring him to obtain the Czar's sanction for this scheme--a scheme which was, however, happily frustrated," added Barbara, not knowing how widely she erred from the truth.

"Lipski has been terrorized into saying whatever Zabern wishes,"

muttered the duke, moistening his dry lips with his tongue.

He saw that his treason had become known and proved; and for such treason as his there could be but one punishment--death! He glanced around the apartment, wondering whether her guards were really within call. In his desperation he would not have hesitated at slaying her, if by that deed he could have effected his escape.

Barbara drew forth a handkerchief marked with a dreadful dark stain.

Instead of regarding it with a shudder as might have been expected, she pressed it affectionately to her lips.

"The blood of Trevisa," she said solemnly, "of Trevisa, the most faithful and loyal of my servants--slain at your instigation.

Russakoff was paid to do the deed by Lipski, but Lipski took his instructions from the Duke of Bora."

"It's a lie."

"Katina Ludovska, though at the time she did not clearly see Lipski's face, has to-day recognized him by his voice, as the man who at the inn--Sobieski's Rest--offered to Russakoff the bribe of four hundred roubles. I have had Lipski brought here purposely to meet you. He is in the palace at the present moment. Your grace, come with me," said the princess, rising and motioning Bora to follow her. "Let me see you meet him with a denial. None more glad than I if you will do this.

Come. Dare you?"

It seemed not. He shrank back from accompanying the princess to the adjoining ante-room, where sat both his miserable accomplice Lipski and the equally miserable Russakoff, each under the guard of a quaternion of soldiers.

"You virtually admit your guilt in refusing to face your accuser. The muskets found on Lipski's premises have been surrept.i.tiously forwarded by Orloff with your knowledge and approval. To-morrow before break of day those arms were to have been distributed to a Muscovite mob rendered valiant by copious supplies of vodka. At a certain point along the intended route of the coronation procession, barricades were to be thrown up, and when firing and rioting had begun, a message was to be despatched to the camp of the Czar, urging him to come and save the Muscovites from ma.s.sacre at the hands of the Poles. And the Czar, responsive to the appeal, would come to establish in Czernova what he would call a stable government, its stability to consist in the acceptance of his own suzerainty and in the establishment of his kinsman Bora upon the throne. The deposed princess might marry Bora, if she chose; if not, there is in Ladoga's gray lake an island fortress named Schlusselburg; there let her pa.s.s the remainder of her days. Such is the programme you would fain carry out to-morrow. My lord of Bora, you have played a dark game; it is time you received your reward."

The princess clapped her hands quickly, and at the sound every door of the White Saloon opened and through each there came marching a file of soldiers, two abreast. With quick silent footfall they advanced over the velvet carpet, and with a thrill of awe the duke perceived that all were carrying their arms reversed as at a funeral.

Deploying in their advance the files so moved as to form a double ring around the princess and the duke, and there they stood, terrible in their rigidity and silence.

The circle gave way and Zabern appeared, a chilling glare in his eye.

At a sign from him one soldier with a swift motion pulled the duke's hands behind him, and in a moment more had corded his wrists, while a second pinned upon his breast a piece of white satin in shape like a heart.

At sight of this dreadful fabric designed to direct the aim of a firing party, the duke's courage fled; his knees smote together; he grew white to the very lips.

Only ten miles distant were one hundred thousand men ready to a.s.sist him to a throne; for all the aid they could now give him they might as well have been situated in the planet Mars.

"The firing-party awaits you in the quadrangle," said Zabern, as the guards closed up around the duke. "Forward!"

"Have a care what you do, Cousin Natalie," said Bora, scarcely able to speak from fear. "You will have to answer to the Czar for this."

"You speak treason with your last breath," said Barbara. "Answer to the Czar for executing a traitor in my own princ.i.p.ality! What jurisdiction hath the Czar in Czernova?"

"Traitor!" cried Zabern, fiercely. "I would stab you with my own hand, though the Czar himself were by. To the quadrangle--forward!"

The murmur of the restless populace without penetrated to the interior of the palace, and was heard by the wretched duke. Was he to die with the sound of the coronation-mirth ringing in his ears?

In the ante-chamber Zabern halted his troop and returned to the side of the princess.

"This instrument lacks your Highness's signature," he remarked, presenting her with the warrant for the duke's execution.

"On occasions such as this," murmured Barbara, taking the doc.u.ment, "one is tempted to say with Saint Vladimir, 'Who am I that I should shed blood?'"

"And yet Vladimir shed a good deal, if history speak truth," responded Zabern, "and therefore became he a saint after Russia's own heart.

Your Highness, this is no time for pity. It is a question of your life or the duke."

The princess appended a name to the warrant.

"I fear," observed Zabern, with a grave smile, "that the captain of the firing-party will question the authority of that signature."

The princess looked, and to her surprise saw that she had subscribed herself not "Natalie Lilieski," but "Barbara Tressilian!" She had unwittingly written her mother's maiden name.

She did not erase the signature, but proceeded to indite a fresh warrant. She wrote very slowly, pondering as she wrote. What would the real Natalie have thought, said, or done, if she were living now and saw her elder sister signing the death-warrant of her lover?

With a sigh she handed the doc.u.ment to the marshal, who immediately returned it with a very strange look. And there, staring at her from the paper, were the self-same words as before--"Barbara Tressilian!"

The princess had her superst.i.tious moments, and this was one of them.

That she should unintentionally have written the same twice seemed a confirmation of the misgiving that had troubled her for several weeks.

"This is the hand of heaven," she murmured, in a tone of awe, and laying down the pen. "Are not the illegitimate always called after their mother? I have written my true name. Marshal," she added in a fearful whisper, "it is Bora who should be on the throne, and I should be the prisoner of the Citadel."

"Your Highness, do not talk thus."

But Barbara paid little heed.

"I am tempted to summon the Diet, even at this late hour, and to reveal to them my secret history, the whole miserable story of my birth."

"You will bring ruin on Czernova if you do. What guarantee have you that the cardinal's story is true?"

"This," replied Barbara, pointing to her signature on the death-warrant.