The Intriguers

“Oh, none at all,” replied the Princess, with a return of that vivid blush; “mere trifles that a less violent man would smile at. He has used this threat once or twice before, but to-day he spoke as if he meant it.”

Corsini thought deeply before he answered. Had Zouroff actually discovered the part she had played in his rescue, and was this his revenge?

“My advice, Princess, is to leave the Palace, and either seek shelter with some relatives or claim the protection of Golitzine and Beilski; if necessary of the Emperor himself. The Prince, you know doubtless, is not a favourite at Court.”

“I know,” said Nada quickly. “But think of the awful scandal when all this is blazoned forth. For my poor mother’s sake I want to avoid that.”

The Italian spoke very gravely. “The scandal will, of course, be regrettable. But compared with your own safety, I should not give it a moment’s consideration.”

He stood up, and his calm left him as he thought of the danger she ran with this brutal brother, who seemed capable of any villainy.

“You asked for my advice, Princess. I have given it and repeat it. Leave this house at once and acquaint Beilski with all you have told me.”

“You mean leave it now – to-day?” she faltered. “And my poor mother lying so ill upstairs.”

“That, of course, from what I know and can guess of the Prince would provide him with an excellent reason for carrying out his plans as quickly as possible,” observed Corsini bitterly.

The poor young Princess seemed overwhelmed by the position. She felt Corsini’s advice was sound, and yet she shrank from taking such a decided step. The Prince had used a similar threat before, and nothing had come of it.

“I think I will wait till I see him again to-morrow,” she said presently. “I shall know by his mood if he has forgotten the incident. Nothing will occur to-day. He has gone out, and left word that he will not be home till late to-night.”

Yes, he would be late home to-night; Corsini knew that for certain. He still persisted, however, in his point.

“Delays are dangerous, Princess. I will help you any way you like. And it will be wise to take advantage of his long absence to make your escape. Tell me your destination, and I will myself bring round a carriage to some quiet entrance where you can slip out unobserved. I have not told you that I go about with a bodyguard with which the General furnished me. The carriage shall be told to go at a walking pace. I and my attendants will keep it in sight till you are safely at your destination.”

She thanked him warmly, but still persisted that she would prefer to wait till to-morrow. If she changed her mind before the day was out, she would slip out with her maid and take a passing conveyance.

Corsini took her hand and held it for a little time in his, while he gazed earnestly into her troubled eyes, from which she could with difficulty keep back the tears.

“My heart bleeds for you, dear lady. I wish I could convince you, and I hate to leave you here. Will you let me know to-morrow to what course of action you have made up your mind?”

She promised that she would, and the young man left her with feelings of dire foreboding. Please Heaven, this night’s work would turn out so well that very shortly Zouroff would be rendered harmless and impotent. To let him loose on the world was like letting a wild and savage beast out of its cage.

The Prince did return to the Palace about the middle of the afternoon. Was his message, that he would not be home till late at night, simply a blind to lull his sister into a false sense of security? He did not go near her; he went up to his own apartments by a private staircase, only used by himself.

He summoned his valet, Peter, and gave him some very minute instructions. Peter, knowing what was in store for his truculent master, would have liked to offer a little sensible advice, to dissuade him from the course he was bent on pursuing.

But the habits of long obedience, the fear that if he opposed him in the smallest detail he might draw suspicion upon himself, weighed heavily on him. Reluctantly he agreed to obey Zouroff’s orders. Later on, when Zouroff was caged himself, he might be able to undo the mischief he had promised to abet.

The Prince stole out of the Palace as silently as he had entered it. Nobody but Peter and another servant, as much in his confidence as the valet himself, knew that he had been there.

It was a very busy day with him. A few more hours should see the end of all this plotting and scheming, should see his well-laid plans mature. The thought of vengeance, and a sense of coming triumph, induced in him a certain exultation which expressed itself in his resolute glance, his assured bearing. He made his way on foot to the villa of Madame Quéro. He had made up his mind to have a little reckoning with her, in order to wind up his final accounts.

The beautiful singer received him graciously. A woman of capricious moods, she had, for a brief space, admitted to herself that she had not treated him quite fairly, had been found lacking in the spirit of true comradeship. After all, Zouroff had loved her in his rough, masterful way, and he had always been generous.

She had played him false in this respect, that she had allowed herself to be attracted by the handsome young Italian, to the extent of thwarting the Prince’s plans in regard to him. And it was to no purpose. Corsini was in love with the Princess Nada, no doubt a hopeless passion on his part. But he would never give a thought to her save in the way of friendship. And that was the last thing that the passionate heart of the Spanish woman desired.

When, therefore, Zouroff entered her boudoir, in apparently one of his best moods, she felt some of his old attraction for her returning. She little knew what deep anger against her was burning in his heart.

But he was a skilful diplomatist; he showed nothing of this. He kissed her fondly, with the warm kiss of a man who hoped some day to make her his wife.

“Ah, my dear sweetheart, how pleasant to see you again!” said the base hypocrite. “I have had a busy day. Things are going well. It will not be long before my utmost ambitions are realised.” He spoke confidently; he was ever an optimist, and he believed in his own particular star.

La Belle Quéro felt an inward qualm. Corsini was nothing to her now. And, in that brief interview with Nada, she had surmised, through all her girlish dignity and reticence, that the Princess was more than half in love with him. Otherwise, would she have been so eager to save him?

But if Zouroff triumphed, as he seemed to have every hope of doing, the Italian’s fate would be sealed. And Le Belle Quéro was sure she could not save him a second time. The fates would not be propitious to her again.

“Old friends are best, my dear,” said the Prince in his most agreeable tones, as he seated himself in one of the luxurious easy-chairs and lighted a cigarette. “Somehow a little cloud seems to have come between us lately, I should like to remove it.”

Madame Quéro looked a little uneasy. She knew full well to what he was alluding. Her obvious tendresse for the young director had occasioned a good deal of talk; no doubt some of it had floated to Zouroff’s ears.

“Do not let us speak of clouds, Boris. We have been long and good friends. Let us be good friends again.”

“With all my heart,” responded the Prince, with his most charming smile. “Well, I have come to tell you I shall not be at the Opera to-night. I have to see a great many people, make a great many arrangements. I cannot tell you how sorry I am; I know it is one of your great nights. But you understand – business must always come before pleasure.”

Madame assented good humouredly. “It has always been so with you, Boris, at any rate. You are a great man in many ways, perhaps a little too optimistic, a little too sure of yourself.”

The Prince smiled his confident smile. “A pessimist is not much good in this world, my dear. Believe in yourself and your star, and you will become a leader of men.”

“Perhaps,” sighed Madame Quéro. She was beginning to be very attracted to him again. He was certainly in a most charming mood to-night; she felt herself carried back to the old days when she had been infatuated with him, with his virility, his assurance, even the hint of that brutal strength which lay at the back of his plausible exterior.

At length the Prince rose. “I wonder whether you would do me a little kindness. It is a long time since we had a meal together and I told them at home I should not be back till late to-night, after the meeting here. You have given instructions to Stepan to be in readiness?”

Yes, she had given instructions to Stepan.

“Then you will give me a little snack before you start for the Opera? No prolonged, heavy meal, we have neither of us time for that, just something light.”

“But, of course, Boris. You are always welcome to my hospitality, such as it is. You will be here an hour before I have to start for the Opera?”

The hypocrite bent low and kissed the hand she extended to him. “I will be here on the tick of the clock. Au revoir, my old sweetheart, who has come back to me again.”

He went out, intent on his dark schemes. He plumed himself on the fact that he had played his rôle quite well. And she, this treacherous woman who had sold him on account of her sudden fancy for Corsini, had also played her part perfectly. It was diamond cut diamond, but he was sure he would cut deeper of the two.

He was back to the minute. It was a light meal, but Madame Quéro, persuading herself that she was happy in this sudden reconciliation, had provided him some dainties that he was very fond of. Zouroff was in the highest spirits; he praised everything, drank her health several times in the excellent champagne she had provided. The singer ate sparingly and drank very little. It was a gala night at the Opera, she had to be careful of her voice, of those liquid notes which were presently to charm the house.

The moments fled swiftly, it was time for her to start. Zouroff was going on foot to the house of a fellow conspirator.

He bade her good-night, and carelessly drew a small box from his pocket. “See, I did not forget you, I have brought a box of your favourite chocolates.” He pointed with his finger to one. “See, here is a fine fat fellow, I will take a smaller one.”

La Quéro could never resist chocolates. She took the big one Zouroff pointed out to her and crunched it in her even white teeth. The Prince laid the box on the table.

“Good-night,” he said. “There is no time to lose. We are both a little late.” He went out, with a strange smile on his face.

Looking back to it in the happy after years, Corsini always declared that of all days this had been the most eventful day in his life.

At the hotel, on the previous evening, he had found waiting for him the note from Ivan the Cuckoo, who did not know at the time he despatched that missive that he was a free man. Corsini, accompanied by his faithful bodyguard, was to repair to Ivan’s mean lodging that night.

Nello was not without a spirit of adventure. He was rather looking forward to what would happen at midnight. He was to change places with Stepan, heavily handicapped as to hearing and speech, and listen to the conversation of the conspirators.