Was the mystery about to be solved?

Turning his eyes upon the opened volume, Mos...o...b..gan to read. The lection obtained by this _sors sacra_ proved to be the opening chapter of the Fourth Gospel.

With a curious antic.i.p.atory interest the a.s.sembly listened to the reading, prepared to catch at any verse which might be twisted into some allusion to the princess and her reign.

Mosco, in a magnificent ba.s.s voice and with majestic delivery, read through five verses. Then, making a momentary pause, he resumed, changing his tone to one of peculiar emphasis,--

"'_There was a man sent from G.o.d whose name was John_--'"

"And there he is!" cried a voice that rang like a clarion all over the cathedral, the voice of Feodor Orloff; "there he is! John, Duke of Bora. People of Czernova, listen to the voice of G.o.d."

Scarcely had the words been spoken when the Duke of Bora was seen emerging from the northern transept.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE GREAT WHITE CZAR

The sudden utterance of Count Orloff, combined with the simultaneous appearance of the Duke of Bora, caused an electric thrill to pervade the cathedral.

The holy Gospels, appealed to by a method approved by both factions alike, seemed to have given a mandate in favor of the duke, to the confusion of the adherents of the princess. The occupants of the northern aisle, as well as of the northern transept, gave instant proof of the side on which their sympathies lay. They rose to their feet as one man, and ignoring the sacred character of the place, gave vent to tumultuous cries.

"The holy oracles are on our side!"

"They bid us elect a man, and not a woman!"

"A John, and not a Natalie!"

"One sent from G.o.d, and not from Rome!"

"Bora, Bora! Give us Bora! The duke is our ruler!"

Their voices immediately became lost in the overwhelming shouts of the Poles, who likewise rose to their feet, and replied by counter-cries.

"The princess! the princess! We will have none but Natalie Lilieska!"

There was not a shadow of doubt in Zabern's mind that the a.s.sembling of the Muscovites in the northern transept, the apt lection of Mosco, the utterance of Orloff, and the sudden appearing of the duke were all parts of a preconcerted arrangement.

"Holy hireling of the duke!" he said, grinding his teeth and addressing Mosco, "you have done your work. Stand from the choir, or by heaven!" he continued, half unsheathing his sabre, "I'll add a martyr to the Russian calendar."

"Thou hast the wisdom of the serpent, marshal, though scarcely the innocence of the dove," sneered the archpastor, who had many an old score to settle with Zabern. "We will see if thy wit can get the better of this situation. No Catholic ruler in Czernova!"

And directing a glance of scarcely disguised hatred towards the princess, he withdrew from the choir and took his station among the Muscovites.

Amid wild excitement the Duke of Bora, his face somewhat pale, continued to advance till he reached the open s.p.a.ce fronting the choir, where he stood visible to all in the cathedral.

His outward appearance was sufficiently indicative of the power upon which he relied for support, for he was clad in the grand uniform of a marshal of the Seminovski Guards, and carried on his breast the cross of Saint Andrew, the blue riband of Russia.

At his approach the princess rose from her seat. The two factions perceiving her action, and curious to learn what she would say, ceased their raging.

"Marshal Zabern," cried Barbara in a voice that sounded like music after the raucous clamor of the previous few moments: "I call upon you to re-arrest that escaped prisoner, and to conduct him to the Citadel."

"You threaten me with imprisonment?" exclaimed Bora with a stern air.

"It is mine to threaten, and yours to fear. People of Czernova," he continued, turning from the choir to address the a.s.sembly, "hear a revelation, strange yet true. She who sits there has no right to the crown, inasmuch as she is not Natalie Lilieska, but an impostor bearing a marvellous resemblance to that princess. The true Natalie died in Dalmatia more than two years ago."

The duke's words destroyed Zabern's lingering hope that Ravenna's letter might have miscarried, for how had Bora become possessed of his present knowledge, except through the medium of the cardinal's dove?

"Marshal Zabern," continued the duke, pointing to Barbara, "I call upon you to arrest an impostor who usurps my throne."

"And you may call," replied Zabern.

The duke's statement drew derisive laughter from the Poles; it was too absurd for belief, a malicious invention of a disappointed suitor. At this point Polonaski the Justiciary, who occupied a seat directly fronting the choir, arose and addressed the princess.

"Lady," he began, and showing by that word that he, too, like Mosco, had taken the side of her enemies, "lady, you have heard the duke's accusation. Let this a.s.sembly learn from you whether the charge be true."

It was hard for a youthful and spirited princess to be catechised by a minister who had suddenly turned against her.

"Your Highness, do not answer the traitorous gray-beard," said Zabern.

For a moment only did Barbara hesitate.

"It is true that I am not Natalie Lilieska."

An earthquake rocking the cathedral-pavement could not have dismayed the Poles more than had this startling acknowledgment. True it must be, since she herself admitted the impeachment,--an impeachment fatal to her own interests. And if she must cease to be princess, what would become of them under the rule of Bora?

The Muscovites, themselves bewildered with the unforeseen turn taken by events, sat as silent as the Poles.

"Consider well what you say," observed Polonaski with a slight smile of triumph. "You dethrone yourself by that statement."

"Not so," replied Barbara. "So long as I should have lived, the Princess Natalie could not have reigned; inasmuch as I am her elder sister Barbara, and therefore lawfully ent.i.tled to the throne."

The Poles raised a shout of applause; though somewhat dubious as to the truth of Barbara's statement, they were prepared to welcome it, as well as any other device which might deliver them from the power of the duke.

"Barbara Lilieska," returned the Justiciary, "is a person of whose existence Czernova has. .h.i.therto been ignorant. Princess Stephanie, wife of the late Thaddeus, had but one daughter, Natalie."

"I am the daughter of an earlier marriage."

"You bring strange tidings to our ears. It was never known in Czernova that Prince Thaddeus was twice wedded. Have you proof of this former marriage?"

"Yes," replied Barbara, inspired by a sudden thought, "I will cite yourself, Polonaski, as a witness, for at the time of my father's demise you were present with other ministers in the death-chamber. You can testify that Prince Thaddeus handed the diadem to me with the words: 'To you, my daughter lawfully born, do I bequeath this crown, to be held for the weal of Czernova.' Do you mark the words 'lawfully born'? Ill would my sire merit his t.i.tle of 'The Good' if he died in the utterance of a lie. And what I have received, that will I keep."

The thunders of Polish applause in no way disconcerted the calm and forensic Polonaski.

"The word of the dying prince is not legal proof," he answered. "And, moreover, lady, you yourself, in concealing your own ident.i.ty and in taking the name of another, have given clear evidence of disbelief in the claim that you now put forward."

"People of Czernova," said the duke, raising his voice, and again addressing the a.s.sembly, "I affirm that she who calls herself Barbara Lilieska was not born in lawful wedlock, but is a natural daughter of the late Prince Thaddeus, and as such is debarred from the succession. In the days of old," he continued, "when Czernova was a palatinate, the palatine at his invest.i.ture, was always prepared, either in person or by deputy, to defend his rights with the sword, nor was the rite discontinued when the palatines became princes and the invest.i.ture a coronation. I invoke the ancient law of the land and claim the ordeal of battle. I demand that the princess, so-called, shall meet me by deputy in single combat. There is my gage," he added, flinging his leathern gauntlet upon the flagstone of the choir. "Let the sword decide between us."