"Your Majesty," he remarked, with a somewhat cold expression, "ere claiming to exercise suzerainty in Czernova, will do well to await the arrival of your Foreign Minister now on his way hither."

The Czar stared haughtily at Paul, having no idea whatever of his meaning, while Zabern, equally mystified, murmured,--

"In the name of the saints, explain your saying."

Paul whispered a few words into the ear of the marshal, who received the communication with an expression of incredulity.

"It is true," a.s.severated Paul. "And," he added, "here comes the confirmer of my words."

A slight commotion here took place at the far end of the cathedral, and there entered a man of distinguished presence whom Zabern immediately recognized as the Russian Minister for Foreign Affairs.

Then the marshal no longer doubted. His face became lighted with an expression of joy, succeeded the next moment by one of trouble.

"The Convent of the Transfiguration!" he murmured.

"There is our danger. We are lost if our secret doc.u.ments fall into the Czar's hands. And how is it to be prevented with a Russian regiment in possession of the monastery?"

The newcomer on entering had thrown a quick glance around, and catching sight of the emperor standing upon the edge of the choir, he at once made his way to the imperial presence.

"Count Nesselrode! you here! How is this?" asked the Czar, perceiving plainly that trouble was in the air.

"A despatch from the Court of St. James's, requiring your Majesty's immediate attention," replied Nesselrode, sinking upon one knee as he presented the doc.u.ment. "On receiving it from the British amba.s.sador, I instantly set off for Zamoska, travelling day and night; and, learning on my arrival there that you would be found in the cathedral of Slavowitz, I have hastened hither. A grave despatch, your Majesty,"

he added in a lower tone, "a despatch affecting this very princ.i.p.ality. Hence my haste to deliver it to you."

The emperor sat down again, broke the seal of the envelope, unfolded the despatch, and proceeded to read it with a darkening countenance.

The only person in the cathedral whose eyes were not set upon the Czar at this particular juncture was Zabern, who was himself occupied in the reading of two very interesting doc.u.ments which had just been put into his hands.

During the course of the duel there had entered the cathedral the chief of the Police Bureau, who had personally taken upon himself to investigate matters relative to the murder of Cardinal Ravenna. His search in the archiepiscopal palace had resulted in the finding of certain papers, so extraordinary in their character that the police-official felt constrained to hasten at once to Zabern with the news of his discovery. The sight of the duel had kept him dumb and motionless, but as soon as it was over he had hurried to the side of Zabern.

"Marshal," he whispered, "what name did the Czar give to our princess?"

"Barbara Lilieska. That is her true name, Casimir."

"Then these papers do not depose her?" said the chief of the police, exhibiting what he had found.

"Depose her?" repeated Zabern, as he ran his delighted eye over the doc.u.ment. "By the soul of Sobieski, you could not have brought a more acceptable gift to her Highness. This will--"

"Marshal, is it true that the princess has not yet been informed of the result of the duel?"

It was Paul who spoke, and he spoke with some warmth.

"Such have been my orders."

"Why do you prolong her suspense?"

"Who more fitting than the victor himself to convey the glad tidings?

Go. Carry these papers with you. Tell the princess that they were found in the cardinal's palace!"

Taking the doc.u.ments from the hand of Zabern, Paul proceeded to the sacristy, where he had left Barbara.

She was alone on her knees in prayer. She had heard the rapturous applause ringing through the cathedral aisles; she had heard the still louder shout from the square, and had trembled, knowing that all was over.

But when moment after moment went by and no one came with tidings, a black pall of horror fell over her. It must be that the duke's sword had prevailed, and that her friends from pity hesitated to come forward with the truth.

The door opened, yet she durst not turn her head.

Through the corridor came the solemn roll of the organ, and with it the voices of the white-robed choir: "_Deposuit potentes et exaltavit humiles_."

Why had Faustus ordered the "Magnificat" to be sung? Could it be that--?

"Barbara!"

A delicious feeling of relief thrilled her whole frame as that word fell on her ear.

She looked up from her knees. Yes, it was the living Paul, and not his spirit; Paul smiling tenderly, and apparently unhurt. She tried to speak, but emotion checked her utterance. Paul raised her drooping figure from the ground and girdled her in a grasp of iron.

"My sweet floweret. You must not faint. All is well. Your throne is safe."

"Your life is safe," she faintly articulated, "and that is all I care for."

Then followed a long interval of silence. Their joy was too deep for words. At last Barbara spoke.

"And is Bora really dead?"

"May all enemies of the princess be as the duke is."

"And you? Are you not wounded--hurt?" she asked, holding him at arm's length.

"There is not a scratch upon me."

"And the Czar--?"

"Is taking a lesson in the school of humiliation."

And here Paul proceeded to relate what he had been doing during his absence. He had gone away boldly resolved on making an attempt to persuade the English Foreign Secretary to interest himself on behalf of Czernovese liberty.

With this view, then, Paul, on the very first night of his arrival in London, called at the residence of Viscount Palmerston, and sent in his card. That statesman had no sooner read the notable name "Paul Woodville," than he gave orders that the visitor should be instantly admitted to his presence.

He received Paul with great affability, expressing his regret that a young soldier, certain of promotion, should have so strangely quitted the service of a great empire for that of one of the smallest states in Europe.

"You have sadly disappointed the British public," he remarked with a smile. "We were preparing great honors for you in England."

"I desire no other honor, my lord," replied Paul, boldly, "but that England should observe towards my adopted home that faith to which she stands pledged by the Treaty of Vienna."

Now it was a point in Paul's favor that Lord Palmerston had warningly declared from his place in the House of Commons at the close of the session of '46 that "The Governments of Austria, Russia, and Prussia, would recollect that if the Treaty of Vienna was not good on the Vistula, it might be equally invalid on the Rhine and on the Po."

Therefore he became immediately attentive when Paul began to hint at an intended violation of this treaty; ever the friend of nationalities striving to be free, he listened with considerable warmth and indignation as his visitor went on to describe the insidious attempts made by Russia to undermine the independence of Czernova.

At this particular date Russia was the _bete noire_ of Lord Palmerston, who had long viewed with misgiving the continual advance of that Power in the direction of India. He had learned from the despatches forwarded both by Paul and by other officers, that a considerable body of Russians had joined the Afghans in the attack upon the British garrison at Taj.a.pore; but since it could not be proved that these auxiliaries had acted with the authority, or even with the knowledge of the Czar's ministry, the English cabinet had been obliged to let the matter pa.s.s.