The Intriguers

Madame Quéro spoke very quietly. The Princess disliked her, of that she was assured, and she returned the dislike with compound interest. Still Nada was doing her best to be civil and polite. It should not be her fault if the interview was not conducted with perfect discretion on both sides.

“If the danger had not been very great and also very imminent, Princess, I should not have taken the liberty of intruding myself upon you. We move in different worlds, it is true, but I am some sort of a personage in my own sphere and not fond of exposing myself to rebuffs at the hand of a waiting-maid.”

Nada blushed at the shrewd, quick thrust, although the words were spoken without the least heat.

“I am very sorry you should have felt offended,” she faltered. “But of course, I could not deliver the message myself.”

Madame Quéro dismissed the subject with a graceful wave of the hand. If Nada had the composure of the aristocrat, she had the self-possession of the woman of the world. She could skate over thin ice as delicately as anybody.

“I have every reason to know that your brother, Prince Boris, has taken a violent enmity to this young musician.”

“My brother, I regret to say, takes violent dislikes to many people, for reasons that I have never been able to fathom. But I cannot guess any motive for enmity against Signor Corsini. In what possible way can their paths cross?”

“You will, of course, understand, Princess, that I cannot, in every instance, speak as plainly as I could wish. You may have heard, it is hardly possible you should not, that for some few years past Prince Zouroff has been one of my most intimate friends.”

Nada bowed her graceful head, while a faint flush rose to the fair cheek. Of course it was common rumour in St. Petersburg that he was greatly attracted by the handsome singer and was prepared to marry her, if her husband could be got out of the way. Such an alliance would not, naturally, recommend itself to the other members of the proud and ancient house of Zouroff.

“It would certainly seem a strange thing that their paths should cross in any way,” was Madame Quéro’s answer. “And here, I am afraid, I dare not be as explicit as I wish. You must forgive me, Princess, if I content myself with hints instead of full explanations. I can only just tell you this: Signor Corsini has discovered a jealously guarded secret of your brother’s. Your brother, therefore, regards him as a dangerous man, to be got out of his way.”

Nada’s face went pale as she listened to these rather vague utterances. Although so young, with a disposition naturally frank and trusting, she had a very quick intelligence. She thought she could read between the lines. It was some time before she spoke.

“My brother has a jealously guarded secret which Signor Corsini has discovered,” she repeated slowly. “If he revealed that secret, it would mean danger to Boris?”

Madame Quéro bowed. “At present his knowledge is not very great, but if he learnt more, it would mean the greatest possible danger to your brother.”

There was no mistaking the sinister meaning behind these words. The young girl reflected a few moments. Not once, but many times, some unguarded phrase of the Prince, dropped in one of his frequent rages, had set her thinking.

“Boris is not, then, exactly what he seems, Madame?”

“Far from it, Princess,” replied the singer, speaking with a frankness that a second later she regretted.

“And perhaps, too, Signor Corsini is not exactly what he seems?” queried Nada. Intuition was leading her very near the truth.

“Of that I cannot speak with any certainty. Your brother has certain suspicions of him, but I have no means of knowing whether they are well- or ill-founded. One thing is certain, Prince Boris goes in fear of him and meditates harm to him.”

“You are sure of his intentions?” asked Nada.

Madame Quéro shrugged her shapely shoulders. “Should I be here, if I were not?”

The Princess questioned her a little more closely. “You will not tell me more than you wish, I know, but I think I am entitled to put this question. How did you learn his intentions, from himself or a third party?”

And the singer answered truthfully. “From his own lips.”

Nada was silent for some seconds. She was working it out in her own mind, on the somewhat scanty data that had been furnished her.

“You mean that the Prince intends to get Signor Corsini out of the way by some treacherous means?”

“That is the idea that is forming in his mind, Princess.”

“When will he put that idea into action, do you think?” was Nada’s next question.

“Corsini plays here at the Prince’s request to-morrow evening – is that not so?”

Yes, it was true. She had written the invitation herself at Zouroff’s request.

“Well, the Prince is a man who acts very rapidly when he has once made up his mind. It is my belief that whatever project he has formed will be put into execution to-morrow night.”

Nada put her hand to her brow. “It is horrible, Madame, unthinkable, that a brother of mine should stoop so low. Why should he have a secret so guilty, that he cannot afford to have it dragged forth into the light?”

Madame Quéro did not answer the question directly. “I fear, Princess, your brother is not a man easily to be read even by those who have lived in the same house with him.”

“What is it you suggest that I should do?” asked the Princess after a long pause. “Shall I meet him at the entrance and entreat him to go away at once, on some pretext or another? And what might follow if I took such a strange step? I cannot bring myself to confess to him that I suspect my own brother of base designs against him.”

It was a puzzling question, which Madame Quéro could not answer at once. For some moments the two women, their mutual hostility suspended for the time being, put their wits together. Suddenly an idea occurred to the singer.

“That maid of yours, who interviewed me on your behalf. Can you trust her?”

“She is devoted to me,” was the Princess’s answer.

“Your brother, I happen to know, has one or two confidential servants in his employ.”

“Yes,” said Nada, looking at her visitor steadily. It was evident that if the Prince concealed some things from Madame Quéro, there were many things that he told her. The girl had a very shrewd suspicion that the guilty secret which Corsini had discovered was also known to the beautiful singer herself.

“It is just possible that if your maid instituted a few discreet inquiries in certain quarters, she might learn something.”

“Can you suggest any particular quarter in which she could put them?” asked the Princess. It was evident that the Spanish woman knew a great deal about the Zouroff household – a great deal more than she did herself.

“Peter, his valet, is, I know, absolutely in his master’s confidence.”

“That is fortunate,” remarked Nada; “because I happen to know that Katerina and he are very great friends; in fact, I believe lovers.”

She rose, touched the bell and commanded the attendance of her maid. For a long time the two women, mistress and servant, talked together in Russian. Madame Quéro, who only knew two languages, her own and French, could not, of course, follow them.

The Princess explained the result of the interview. “I have enlisted Katerina’s sympathies, she is going to find out if Peter knows anything.”

Madame Quéro rose. “Whatever it is, I am sure he will have a hand in it, although I don’t expect he will take an active part. Well, Princess, I must leave it to you to take what steps may occur to you.”

Nada put to her the shrewd question. “Is it impossible for you to take any steps yourself, Madame?”

A shamed expression came into the singer’s beautiful eyes. “Alas, Princess, I fear I must admit it is. If the Prince could trace anything to me directly, his vengeance would follow me very swiftly.”

Nada shuddered. She had long ago ceased to entertain any illusions as to her brother. She knew he was hard, tyrannical, brutal, and pitiless. But this conversation with the foreign woman had thrown a new and sinister light upon his character. There was in him, in addition to these disagreeable qualities, a strong criminal taint.

He did not intend to spare Corsini, and from what she had just heard, he would not, if necessity arose, spare the woman to whom he professed attachment, but would punish her ruthlessly for daring to thwart his plans. And the poor young Princess shuddered again as the thought crossed her that he would not be likely to spare his own sister, if she offended him in the same way.

It was not till the middle of the next day that Katerina had charmed out of Peter certain information which confirmed her worst fears.

Briefly, the information amounted to this. The Prince had sent one of his trusted servants into the country to order relays of horses. A travelling carriage was to be waiting at midnight close to the Zouroff Palace. But Peter either did not know, or would not tell, who was to be the occupant or the persons in attendance on the carriage.

One little important detail he had dropped. The carriage was to make its first halt at Pavlovsk, the first stage of the journey, on the Moscow road.

There was no longer any doubt in Nada’s mind as to the Prince’s intentions. Corsini was to be entrapped on leaving the Palace and thrust into the carriage; in all probability, drugged and bound. Of his ultimate fate she shuddered to think.

She knew the Chief of Police, General Beilski, well. He was an old friend of the family, also one of the Emperor’s most trusted adherents. While devoted to her mother and herself, he had never shown himself much attached to the Prince.

Nothing easier than for her to pay a private visit to the General at his office, or invite him to the Palace, and request his assistance in thwarting her brother’s foul designs. It was the course which Madame Quéro could have taken had she so wished, in the first instance.

The same reason held back both women. Such a step must have brought about the immediate ruin of Zouroff, with its consequent degradation for his relatives. The General was a man who would put duty and patriotism before every other consideration. He would not consent to any paltering with justice, he would drive no bargain. He would not save Corsini at the cost of letting the Prince go free and unpunished.

It was a terrible situation for so young a girl, thrown upon her own resources. True, she could have taken counsel with her mother, but she shrank from exposing her brother’s villainy to such a close relation. She would keep the shameful secret locked in her own breast so long as it was possible.

And then came a ray of light. She wrote a letter in a feigned hand to the General, which ran thus:

“A travelling carriage will set out to-night from St. Petersburg at any time after midnight, and will halt at Pavlovsk, on the road to Moscow. Let the carriage be examined, as the writer of this letter has reason to believe there is a plot afoot to deport a certain person well-known in artistic circles.”

This she handed to Katerina, whom the General had never seen, with instructions to take it to his office and hand it for delivery to some responsible person. She was to disguise herself as well as she could, and not linger a moment after she had delivered the letter. It was next to impossible that Beilski should ever discover where that letter came from, but she was certain he would act upon it at once.

What would follow from her action she could not foresee; but she had done the best, according to her lights, to save the young man who had had the misfortune to cross her brother’s path.

Zouroff, just returned from his journey into the country, entered her charming little boudoir half an hour after she had despatched Katerina with the warning note.

He seemed in a good mood to-day. With bitterness at her heart, she guessed the reason. He had laid his plans so well for this evening that he did not anticipate any likelihood of their being disturbed.

He greeted her with a sort of rough geniality. “Well, little Nada, you seem very thoughtful. Wondering what particularly charming costume you will wear to-night?”

With difficulty she forced herself to meet his gaze, to banish from her own the loathing that was in her heart. She tried to speak lightly, so that he should suspect nothing from her voice or manner.

“Not quite accurate, Boris. No, I have decided on the costume. I was really wondering what jewels I should select.”

The Prince seemed to accept her explanation readily. “Well, I am certain you will enjoy yourself. Your great favourite, Corsini, is sure to play that little romance which has so captivated you. I really asked him here to give you pleasure.”

Was it fancy, or did she really catch the ghost of a sneering smile on the hard, handsome face, as he turned to leave the room?

“Base, treacherous hypocrite!” she murmured when she was alone. “Why have I been cursed with such a brother, my poor mother with such a son?”

CHAPTER XV

More than one of her admirers noted that La Belle Quéro was not in her best form to-night. Her acting lacked its usual spontaneity, and several times she sang flat.

Those who thought themselves in the know, put down the inequality of her performance to some recent tiff with Prince Zouroff. But this was only a surmise, not a fact. Zouroff, of course, was in her thoughts, but only in connection with Corsini.

It was the danger threatening the handsome young Italian that caused her to sing flat and provoke those unflattering comments amongst her usually loyal audience.

Again in the early part of the evening she had sought him in his private room, and for the second time endeavoured to dissuade him from going to the Zouroff Palace. He was convinced in his own mind that it was unworthy jealousy of the Princess Nada which had prompted her action.

Perhaps, a short time ago, he would have felt a certain amount of pity for an affection that was so thoroughly misplaced. But Golitzine’s plain hints had destroyed his former feelings of friendship. He could only regard her interference now with resentment.

He looked at her very steadily. “Give me some intelligent reason for breaking my promise, Madame, and I will go so far as to say I will consider it.”

She turned pale and bit her lip in manifest agitation. What he asked her was precisely what she could not do. After that none too veiled threat of Zouroff’s, that if she failed him he would show her no mercy, she dare not betray him by telling the truth.

But she was a woman of considerable resource and she thought she might get round him by appealing to his pride.

“I do not know that I can advance any very sufficient reason, except that we have been good friends, and it annoys me to find you refusing to place a proper value on yourself.”

“How am I making myself cheap by playing at the Zouroff Palace, Madame? Like yourself, I am an artist and follow my art; certainly because I love it, but also because it procures me a substantial reward. If I play for the Countess Golitzine and others, I can play without loss of dignity for the Princess Zouroff.”

She saw her opportunity, and took advantage of it swiftly. “I am not speaking of women, my good friend. It is the Prince himself who is in my mind. You have told me half a dozen times that this man treats you with the greatest hauteur, hardly deigns to return your salutation. He is, after all, the master of the house. It seems to me that if you respected yourself, as I should wish you to do, you would refuse to give him the chance of insulting you.”

Corsini could easily have retorted that La Belle Quéro, in her professional capacity, attended many houses where the women showed her as scant courtesy as the autocratic Prince displayed towards him; but he was of too chivalrous a nature to hurt the pride of a woman.

Anyway, she did not give him the real reason, which he still believed to be that unworthy jealousy of the charming young Princess.

He shrugged his shoulders in real, or assumed, indifference. “I must not say too much about this Zouroff, because we all know he is a great friend of yours. He certainly might take a lesson in manners, but I don’t know that his want of them affects me very greatly.”

“Still, his discourtesy hurts you, or you would not have dwelt upon it so often as you have done,” retorted Madame, woman-like following out her point.

Corsini rose; he was rather tired of the argument.

“If it is so, Madame, I shall not pay him the compliment of staying away. I would not give him the triumph of thinking that he was capable of hurting me.”

She saw it was useless. “It must be as you wish, Signor;” there was a note of sadness in her voice as she turned away. She left the room, murmuring to herself, “I have tried my best. It is the sister who draws him, and she must wish as fervently as I do that he would stay away.”

It was early in the evening when she had sought this interview, and as the hours sped on, bringing Corsini nearer to the time of his appointment, her agitation increased. If she could only know if the Princess had thought of anything, if she had taken any steps to prevent the tragedy which she felt sure was impending.

With a woman of her nervous and excitable temperament, to express a wish was to carry it swiftly into execution. The Opera finished early that night. She drove home at once to her villa, summoned her maid, and bade her change her costume.

A few moments later she came back to the waiting carriage, attired in clothes befitting a woman of the poorer classes, and drove to within a short distance of the Zouroff Palace. She walked on foot to the servants’ entrance and demanded to see the Princess’s maid, Katerina, on very urgent business.

The girl came to the door, wondering who her visitor could be, what was the cause of this imperative summons.

The prima donna laid her finger on her lips to impress caution and secrecy.

“We must speak very low, if you please. I am Madame Quéro, the person you showed yesterday into your young mistress’s room. Can you convey a message from me to her now?”

Katerina looked at the strange visitor who had disguised herself so successfully. Had she met her in the street, she would have passed her by without knowing her. But now that Madame Quéro had recalled herself to her recollection, she at once recognised the popular singer, in spite of her humble attire.

“If you don’t mind waiting a few moments, Madame, I think I can manage it. But I am afraid I shall have to ask you to wait outside. Am I to take a letter?”

“I will wait outside, certainly. No, no letter, it might excite suspicion. Just take this message to your mistress: Has she been able to take any steps with regard to the matter we spoke of yesterday? A few words, yes or no, will do for an answer.”

The door was closed, and La Belle Quéro, one of the idols of St. Petersburg, waited in the darkness for a message to be delivered by a lady’s maid. For a moment, as she stood there, she laughed a little hysterically at the situation.

The Zouroff Palace had never opened its doors to her, even in a professional capacity, for the Princess was a grande dame, and very rigid in her social views. But there were other great houses, presided over by hostesses with a more elastic code for people of genius who had entertained her as a guest.

It was, to say the least of it, a little bizarre that she should be waiting outside the servants’ quarters, dressed in working-woman’s attire, because she did not want one lover to injure another man who might have been a lover had he chosen.

The minutes sped by; it seemed an eternity to the anxious woman waiting there. Then at last the door was opened cautiously, and Katerina spoke in a low voice.

“A thousand pardons for keeping you waiting so long, Madame, but it was very difficult to get hold of the young Princess. There is a big reception on to-night.”

“I know, I know,” interrupted the singer eagerly. This obliging girl, like most of her class, was apt to be garrulous. “Has she sent an answer?”

Katerina looked a little offended. Her good-humoured young mistress never interrupted her, even in her most prolix moments. She spoke stiffly.

“Yes, Madame, I was coming to that in a second. She has taken certain steps which she devoutly hopes will insure the result you both desire, but of course she cannot be certain.” Suddenly the maid’s tone changed, and she dropped a very profound curtsey. “It is very kind of you, Madame, but it was really not necessary. I am only too pleased to have been of use.”

The change in tone was due to the fact that Madame Quéro had slipped into her hand a substantial sum of money, immediately afterwards disappearing into the darkness.

Although not happy nor assured, she felt relieved to know that something had been done to thwart the Prince’s sinister designs.

She walked swiftly to her carriage, and on her way passed Corsini, who was going in the direction of the Palace with his beloved violin-case in his hand. It was a peculiarity of the Italian that he never drove where he could walk. She shuddered as she wondered if he was going to his doom, or if the Princess’s fervent hopes would be realised.

For a moment a wild impulse urged her to turn back and run after him, to blurt out the truth and implore his silence. But the instinct of self-preservation prevailed and the impulse was combated.

Zouroff’s dark threat rang in her ears. And if the Prince’s suspicions were correct, Corsini was in the pay of Golitzine. If that were true, she would entreat his silence in vain. Even gratitude for his escape would not blind him to his obvious duty.

Corsini ascended the staircase, and the first person he met on entering the handsome gilded music-salon was the master of the house. To the Italian’s intense surprise the Prince held out his hand and greeted him with an apparent show of cordiality.

“Ah, good evening, Signor. You are a little late – is it not so? Many of your admirers have been asking after you and fearing that you were not able to come.”

Nello, a man of a most frank and trusting disposition, was almost overcome by this condescension. Had he misjudged the man after all? A great Russian nobleman of ancient lineage might be disposed to look down upon meaner persons who could boast of neither wealth nor origin. At any rate, he was behaving well in his own house, was not reminding him of the difference between their stations.

“I am afraid I am a little late, Prince. But I will make amends. If they desire an extra encore they shall have it.” Thus Nello, a little elated by Zouroff’s subtle suggestion that he was a person of great importance in the world of art, and his audience was waiting impatiently for his arrival.

He played very beautifully that night. The enthusiasm of his listeners was so great that he had to grant not one, but three encores. At last he left the platform.

The Princess Nada met him as he descended the few marble steps.

“You have surpassed yourself to-night, Signor. There are many waiting to pay you compliments. But will you first come and have a brief chat with me?”

Was there anything he could more ardently desire? To gaze for a few moments into those beautiful eyes, to listen to those soft, kind tones – were not a few moments spent like this worth much more than all the applause he had received?

She led him to a small divan in the spacious salon, that was fortunately not occupied. She sat at one end, he at the other; but they were not very distant.

He was very agitated. His close proximity to this beautiful young woman, the product of centuries of high breeding, the delight of her presence, the perfume that stole to him from her abundant hair, the hundred and one subtle allurements that a daughter of the classes possessed for a son of the people, intoxicated him. She was indeed the woman of his dreams, a star set so high in the firmament that he could only gaze respectfully at its light.

She brought him to earth with the simple question: “You must be very tired after your fatigues of the day and night; it is some time past twelve now. How do you propose to return to your hotel? I suppose you have your carriage waiting to take you back?”

She had put the question in her subtle, woman’s way. She knew it was a fad of Corsini’s that he would never ride or drive where he could walk. When he was rallied upon it by his few intimate friends, he always gave the same explanation that he proffered now.