The marshal shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly.

"And therefore, because you suspect yourself to be of illicit birth, you would tender your diadem to an a.s.sa.s.sin and a traitor. Then let the Czar himself lay down his power; true, he is the son of the Emperor Paul, but was Paul really the child of Peter III.? Catherine and Soltikoff, the chamberlain, could best answer that question.

Princess, you are over-scrupulous. Your t.i.tle to the throne is founded on a better right than that of the accident of birth. The sovereign rules by the will of the people, and are not the majority on your side? If the princely office were made elective, is there any candidate who would have the least chance of success against yourself?

And, _vox populi, vox Dei_. What other sanction do you require?"

"The sanction of my own conscience. And to-morrow--to-morrow," she murmured in a tone of distress, "after taking the Holy Sacrament I must lay my hand upon the Charter--"

"Upon a forged doc.u.ment, rather," muttered Zabern, grimly to himself.

"And declare that 'I, Natalie Lilieska, do solemnly vow' to maintain its provisions, knowing that I am not Natalie Lilieska. No, Zabern, I cannot--I will not utter this falsehood."

"Then let the Pope avow himself a liar when in solemn conclave he a.s.sumes the style of Pio Nono, and ignores his true name of Giovanni Mastai."

"All men know of the Pope's change of name; there is no attempt at deception; but I claim to be other than I am. If I were certain of illegitimacy I would resign my power this very night."

"I see quite plainly," said Zabern, speaking with more freedom than he had hitherto employed towards the princess, "that if Czernova were handed over to the Czar, and your faithful ministers sent to Siberia, you would be very well content."

As he spoke the marshal drew his sabre.

"Do you bid me break the sword that has been so long used in the Polish cause? Must I retire hence to aid the Hungarians, to obtain that freedom which you would deny to us in Czernova?"

"No, marshal, no; we must not part. I will stand by those who have stood by me. Clinging to the hope that there is no dishonor on my name, I will hold to my crown."

"A wise decision, princess," replied Zabern, considerably relieved by her words. "And now as to the duke's execution."

"What, marshal? Would you have me sign his death-warrant when I am doubtful of my right to rule?--and sign it, too, in the name of one, who, strange as it may seem to us, loved him? No, I cannot sign this doc.u.ment with the name of Natalie."

"But your Highness cannot sign it with any other."

"Then I will not sign it at all."

"I greatly fear that your Highness will live to regret this clemency."

"Be it so."

The first glow of Barbara's anger had pa.s.sed, and she listened to the voice of prudence. Though the duke richly merited death, yet his execution without trial would give the Czar a very convenient pretext for intervening in the affairs of Czernova.

"By shooting the duke I make the Czar the heir to my crown," said Barbara. "By retaining him alive I may be able to make use of his person as a p.a.w.n on the political chessboard. Imprisonment will be the wiser course. Remove the duke to the Citadel."

And inasmuch as the marshal recognized Barbara as his princess, he had of necessity to obey.

When Zabern had seen the duke securely lodged in a cell of the Citadel, he returned to the White Saloon, where Barbara still lingered, wrapt in melancholy thought.

"Your Highness, on entering the palace this note was put into my hands."

Barbara glanced at the missive and saw that it contained the following words: "Marshal, will you accord the bearer of this an interview with the princess?--PAUL WOODVILLE."

Barbara's melancholy vanished as if by enchantment. Two months had now elapsed since Paul's departure, and during that time she had received no message from him. Now at last there seemed to be tidings.

"Who is the bearer, marshal?"

"One returned from the dead. A woman calling herself 'Jacintha of Castel Nuovo.' She is in the ante-room at the present moment awaiting your Highness's pleasure."

The mention of the name "Jacintha" almost drew a scream from the princess. She ordered the visitor to be instantly admitted.

Barbara's character was not marked by the false pride that is too often the accompaniment of rank and wealth. She welcomed her humble visitor as warmly as she would have welcomed a queen or empress.

Jacintha had nursed her back to life, and Barbara, mindful of this service, was delighted to have the opportunity of making some return.

"My lady--your Highness, I should say," began Jacintha, sinking upon her knees, "it is very untimely on my part to visit you on the eve of your coronation, when you are occupied--"

"My dear old nurse," said Barbara, raising Jacintha up with a winning smile, "let me whisper a secret to you. I want to forget my coronation, and your presence will make me forget it. Sit here beside me, and let us talk of the old days at Castel Nuovo."

Zabern would have withdrawn, but the princess bade him stay.

"I had thought," continued Barbara, "that you had perished in that dreadful earthquake. And Lambro? Is he alive?"

"No, my la--your Highness. We were outside the castle at the time of the calamity, for some previous rumblings had alarmed us. When the great shock came Lambro slipped into a fissure that opened beneath his feet. He went down before my very eyes, and the earth closed over him immediately. How I myself escaped I cannot tell, for the ground was opening and closing all around me."

"Poor Lambro!" sighed Barbara, who had always entertained a liking for the old Palicar, not knowing how little he deserved her friendship.

"And where have you been living during the two past years?"

Jacintha's story, briefly stated, was as follows. After the earthquake she had made her way to Trieste, and thence by steamer to England.

Within a few weeks of her return she had had the good fortune to become housekeeper in one of the ancient halls of Kent.

"But now will you not remain with me?" smiled the princess.

"Your Highness will not wish it after you have heard the whole of my story," replied Jacintha, and the strange look which accompanied her words somehow caused all Barbara's gladness to die away.

A few days previously Jacintha's master had bidden her prepare for the coming of one of his friends, Captain Woodville by name. What was her amazement to find in her visitor none other than Captain Cressingham, who on his part was equally astounded at meeting Jacintha. Paul immediately fell to talking of the old days at Castel Nuovo, and, among other matters, he questioned Jacintha closely as to the young lady who had visited the castle under the escort of Cardinal Ravenna.

Jacintha learnt from Paul that this lady was in reality the half-sister of Barbara, and that both held the rank of princess. Then it was that Jacintha resolved to tell Paul the true story of Natalie's death.

"Ha!" muttered Zabern, foreseeing that his dark suspicion was about to be verified.

"And Captain Woodville has sent you here to tell it to me likewise--is it not so?" asked Barbara.

"Yes, your Highness. I wanted to put the story into writing, that you might learn it in that way. I wanted Captain Cressingham himself to tell it to you. But no; he said it was better that you should hear it from my lips, and he prevailed upon me to come here."

"Go on, Jacintha," said Barbara encouragingly, for Jacintha seemed very loath to proceed.

"Your Highness, it is no wonder that the earthquake came to swallow up the castle, for wicked doings took place there. But do not blame me for my a.s.sociation with them. I loathed my position there, and would have run away, but for the fear of Lambro and his mastiffs. Now that you are a great princess, you will perhaps punish me when you shall have heard the truth."

"Captain Woodville would not have sent you all the way to Czernova, if he had thought that I should punish you. Tell me the story of my sister's death. You have my word beforehand that no hurt shall happen to you."

And Jacintha with a faltering tongue began a story, the recital of which caused Barbara to thrill with horror.

"O Natalie, my sister! my sister!" she murmured, when Jacintha had finished. "But for the cardinal, you would still be living. His guilty love has driven one sister to suicide, and now, opposed in his wicked desires, he seeks to destroy the other. How can heaven permit this man to live? Bora's guilt is innocence compared with the guilt of Ravenna."

Powerless to allay the princess's grief, Zabern could only watch her in sympathizing silence, and mentally renew his vows of vengeance upon the cardinal. So full was Barbara of this new sorrow that she seemed to have forgotten Paul; at least she made no inquiries about him.