Saved by a Secret. A story of Siberian exile and adventure

Chapter I

Ygjp^||J?) VENING was gathering fast over a quiet mfflæl^ little Eussian village near the town of Kvv^" Nijni - Novgorod. The sun's last rays of ghttered on the golden cross of the wooden J$» church, and lit up its green-painted roof. Now and then the sound of happy childish laughter came from the yellow stubble-fields, glimpses of which could be seen between the straggling houses. Two or three dogs and some pigs were roaming up and down the muddy street in search of food. But no human being was astir, and an indescribable sense of loneliness pervaded the scene. At length the door of one of the rough log peasants' huts opened, and an old grey-haired woman appeared, leaning on the arm of a singularly beautiful girl, whose golden hair and blue eyes would have charmed any wandering artist. Her dress was plain, yet picturesque.

It consisted of a wide-sleeved sarafan, or gown, fastened at the back with metal bangles. Mittens of sheepskin lined with sable fur covered her small hands, and she wore thick shoes, the woollen lining of which peeped over the sides. 'It grows late, Mashinka, my dear,' said the old woman, smiling affectionately at her young companion, 'Ivan and Hilarion should have returned home ere now.' ' Remember that the harvest festivals are going on, little mother,' replied Mashinka, 'and Hilari6n dearly loves the gaiety.' ' Poor boy, I know he does,' said the old woman. ' Ah ! there is batiushka ' (the little father), she added in great excitement ; ' I must speak to him.' A grotesque figure, in a long brown robe, was advancing rapidly towards them. It was the village priest. ' A fine night, batiushka,' said old Agrafena, as he came within earshot. ' Yes, Agrafena,' replied the priest in a cheery voice ; ' 'tis fine harvest weather.

I have been busy all day preparing for the thanksgiving service to-morrow.' Old Agrafena and the priest talked for a short time about the affairs of the village, which form the principal topics of interest to a Russian peasant, and then, as it was getting late, the batiushka hurried off homewards. ' There is Hilarion ! ' cried Mashinka joyfully, and her expressive face lit up with a tender smile. ' You are late, Ivan,' said Agrafena, as her husband and a boy of sixteen joined them. Ivan Shamarin kissed his wife tenderly, and laughed a pleasant, hearty laugh. Although his hair and beard were silvery grey, he seemed a young man still in many ways. Hilarion and Mashinka strolled back to the cottage together. One of the young girl's arms was round her companion's neck, and her beautiful face was bent low down among the sweet-scented blossoms which he carried in his hand.

They were humble, late autumn flowers, yet they seemed very rare and precious to Mashinka, for had not Hilari6n gathered them as a token of his love for her ? As Hilarion and Mashinka entered the cottage, they crossed themselves, and bowed low before the gilded figures of the Virgin and saints, which were placed high up on the wall near the doorway. ' I feel very tired, Mashinka, little dove/ said Hilarion, seating himself at a big wooden table in the centre of the room, on which the evening meal, con sisting of cabbage soup, oatcake, cheese, and kvass, a kind of rye beer, was spread. 'Tired of Sonka, you mean,' laughed Mashinka. ' Oh, Hilarion, how can you be so unkind to her ? ' She turned her head as she spoke, and looked down at Hilarion with a merry twinkle in her blue eyes, from the corner in which she was arranging the flowers he had gathered for her. 'Do not joke about my love for you, Mashinka,' replied Hilariin gravely ; ' you know that I do not care for any one but you.' ' Serious as ever, Laria, drushka ' (little friend). ' What a life I shall lead you when I become your wife ! ' She kissed him so tenderly, however, as she said these words, that Hilarion could not feel angry with her.

Agrafena and Ivan, who had lingered a moment to chat with a neighbour, now came in, and they all sat down to supper. ' Did you have a merry feast, Laria ? ' asked Agrafena, with a kind smile. ' I am too old for such pleasures now, but when I was Mashinka's age I used to laugh and joke with the best of them. Good child, she stayed at home to keep me company.' ' The feasts were as good as last year's, matiushka,' replied Hilarion absently. His manner had become preoccupied, and he gazed out of the little window opposite with a far-away look on his face. ' What makes you so quiet, Laria ? ' said Ivan. ' You were lively enough as we came home together from the merrymaking.' ' Yes, but I was not really happy, little father,' replied Hilarion, with a sigh. ' I have been thinking for a long time about what matiushka said last summer.

Don't you remember, matiushka?' he added, turning towards old Agrafena with a very sad expression. The old woman looked at him with a frightened glance, and her withered hands shook, but she did not reply. ' Let us be merry this evening,' said Ivan ; ' it is a pity to end a happy day sadly.' Hilarion, however, was not to be so easily roused from his melancholy, and sat gazing in moody silence at the passing figures of the village folk, who had come out to enjoy the cool evening air after the harvest feasts. 'Tell me as you promised, little mother,' he said earnestly, after a long pause. Old Agrafena's only reply was a sob, and the lad saw tears trickling down between her fingers. ' You have made mother cry, Laria,' exclaimed Mashinka reproachfully, rising from the low stool on which she was sitting and throwing her arms round the old woman's neck. ' 'Tis only right that Laria should know the truth about his parents, Mashinka, little dove,' said Agrafena gently ; ' he has grown older now.' 'Do not tell the lad, Agrafena,' interposed Ivan, who had been stroking his long grey beard thoughtfully for some time in silence ; ' it will only make him unhappy.

Be contented, Hilarion, there's a good lad,' he added, turning with a kind look to the boy. 'Draw closer round the stove, children/ said old Agrafena, ' and I will tell you all I know. 'Tis best to get it over, Ivan dear.' 'Do not tell me if it gives j*ou pain, little mother/ said Hilarion tenderly ; ' I cannot bear to see you cry.' ' Yes, it is best to have it over, lad,' repeated old Agrafena, with a deep sigh. They all rose from the table, and crossed themselves, bowing low before the sacred pictures of the Virgin and saints. Agrafena then seated herself on a wooden bench near the stove, and Mashinka and Hilarion settled themselves by her side ; while Ivan stretched himself on the top of the great whitewashed stove, and began to smoke. ' Why did you ask this question to-night, Laria ? ' said Agrafena, looking wistfully into the boy's thoughtful eyes. ' I do not know, little mother/ he replied ; ' I have thought long about it.

The other boys of the village talk about their parents, and ask me so many questions about mine. Of course I can tell them nothing, little mother. It is hard for me, is it not ? ' ' Yes, Laria dear/ said Agrafena sorrowfully, ' it ii hard ; yet I should have liked to have kept this secret from you but a little while longer.' She did not speak again for a few moments, and a hush fell over the cottage. ' Your parents are not both dead, Hilarion/ went on Agrafena at last, looking up with a timid glance at the frank, bright face of the lad by her side. ' Oh, matiushka ! ' he cried reproachfully, jumping to his feet in great excitement, ' why have you hidden this from me so long ? Is my mother alive ? ' 'No, Hilarion, my little dove,' replied Agrafena, covering her face with her hands, and speaking in a very low voice ; ' your mother died when you were quite a little boy.

Poor lad, poor lad ! it would have been better to have kept this secret from you.' Hilarion had reseated himself on the wooden bench. ' Go on, little mother, tell me all,' he said in a shaky voice. ' Your father is alive, Hilarion,' said Agrafena ; ' but he is — ' ' Say no more, Agrafena/ implored Ivan, looking over the edge of the stove. ' I beg you not to tell him.' Mashinka put her arms round Hilari6n's neck and kissed him passionately. A nameless fear had seized upon the poor girl. It seemed to her that some terrible blow was about to fall on the happy home which had sheltered them all so long. ' Your father is an exile, Laria,' said the old woman, forcing herself at last to tell the dread secret, which had been kept for so many years. ' How terrible ! ' groaned Hilarion in a hard voice, while his face became suddenly ashy pale.

Agrafena ceased weeping, and looked at him anxiously. He seemed to have all at once become many years older. ' Take it not so to heart, little dove, for my sake, for the sake of the old happy days ! ' she cried, while the tears rolled down her withered cheeks. ' For your sake, little mother, I will try to be brave/ said Hilarion, throwing his arms round the poor old woman's neck, and kissing her passionately. For a long time none of them spoke again. Only the night wind expressed the deep grief which they all felt. It moaned and sighed round the cottage, as if it were a restless spirit, some domovoi, or brownie, lamenting over happy days that would never again return. Now and then a careless laugh jarred on the solemn silence, from some neighbouring cottage, where all was happiness and merriment.

Then a look of still deeper misery would overcloud Hilarion's face. At last he spoke. ' Tell me, little mother, why my father was sent to Siberia,' he said very gently. ' Your father was once an axemaker, Hilari6n/ replied Agrafena, ' and lived with your sweet mother quite close to Ivan and I, in a village far away beyond Novgorod. But he grew weary of the quiet life, and joined an artil or society of workmen. Many of his friends followed his example, and they all left the village together, and went away to Moscow. Your mother came to live with Ivan and me, for she felt lonely when your father had gone. Months passed away, and we heard but little of him. From time to time he sent small sums of money to your mother, but he never came himself, for he longed to grow rich, Hilarion, and was working hard at his trade.

At length this terrible blow fell. I remember it all so clearly, that it might have occurred but yesterday, though it is really more than fourteen years ago. Your mother and I were sitting by the stove one winter's morning, and she was singing to herself one of our sad Russian songs ; these were the words she sang, Hilarion : — Through the silent evening hours, Musing on my cares, I roved ; And amused me gathering flowers, Forming wreaths for him I loved. Pensively I wander'd round Till the sun had left the plain ; Many and many a flowrer I found, But one flower I sought in vain. Through the solitary even Everywhere that flower I sought ; "Tis a flower as blue as heaven — 'Twas in vain — I found it not. Mournful I was homeward going, When, a gentle rivulet nigh, I espied that flow'ret growing — Which I plucked in ecstasy.

Sweet Forget-me-not ! elated, Tears express'd my bursting thought, And I sigh'd, and I repeated, 0 my friend ! Forget-me-not ! ' ' They are beautiful words, little mother,' said Hilarion, with tears in his eyes. 'Suddenly/ went on Agrafena, 'there came a loud knock at the door. Do you not remember, Ivan, how poor Sonitchka's face brightened as she ran to open it, for she thought that a letter had come for her from Moscow ? ' Ivan, who was lying with his head resting on his hand, nodded silently, and the frown deepened on his face. ' Well, your sweet mother opened the door. Hilarion,' continued Agrafena, wiping away the tears from her dim eyes. ' A young man, one of your father's dearest friends, who had accompanied him to Moscow, was standing in the snow outside. I saw by his face that he was the bearer of bad news.

He took me aside, — poor Alexis ! he had a really kind heart, and was afraid to let your mother hear the evil tidings, — and he whispered in my ear that your father had been arrested two days before in Moscow, on a charge of plotting against the Father, his Majesty the Czar. Your poor mother would not rest until she heard the fatal news. Oh, Hilari6n, I shall never forget that dreadful moment ! Your mother turned white as the snow outside the door, and fell senseless, as if she had been shot, to the ground. Poor sweet Sonitchka ! she never recovered the cruel shock ; for before the spring time came she withered away and died, just as the tender flowers die when they are robbed of the sunlight. Your father was her sun, Hilari6n.' ' How terrible ! how terrible ! ' groaned Hilari6n. 'Go on, little mother, tell me all now.' ' We buried your mother, Hilarion,' went on old Agrafena, 'and then Ivan and I came to settle here.

Mashinka and you were such pretty little children, and you have grown up together, and have always been so happy.' Agrafena sighed heavily, and looked up with great tears in her eyes at the figures of the Virgin and saints. Hilari6n sat brooding over what he had just heard, and Ivan watched him in silence, hoping that he would gradually recover his wonted cheerfulness ; but his expectations were not fulfilled. ' Little mother,' exclaimed Hilarion, speaking very slowly, as if he had formed some great resolve, — ' little mother, I feel sure that my father was innocent of this crime. I will go myself to Siberia and beg for pardon for him.' ' Poor lad, poor lad ! ' murmured Ivan ; ' you do not know what you are saying. Your father, Anthony Orfanoff, was banished to the prison of Alexandreffsky, which is more than four thousand five hundred versts1 from here, far away in Eastern Siberia. ' I have said what I mean, little father,' replied Hilarion in a determined tone. ' But you have no money, dear/ remonstrated old Agrafena, who could scarcely believe that the boy was in earnest. ' No, little mother/ he said, with a very sad smile ; 'but I am strong, and can work for my food and shelter.' ' Enough, Hilarion,' interposed Ivan decisively ; ' you must think no more of this wild plan.' The old peasant felt that it was his duty to put a stop once and for all to the boy's vain hope of ever seeing his father.

Hard though it was to perform, he did not shrink from it. Better a few moments of acute grief, he thought, than years of useless repining. 1 Miles. ' Hilari&n, little dove,' said Mashinka reproachfully, laying her tiny hand on her boy -lover's shoulder pleadingly, ' surely you would not leave me here alone ? You are not really in earnest, little dove ? ' she went on in a trembling voice, for she saw a hard, stern look on Hilarion's white face, and it struck a chill fear to her heart. ' Yes, Mashinka dear,' he replied, pressing her hand hard, and averting his eyes, for he could not bear to look at the young girl's face. The sight of her grief would, he feared, make him yield, and break his great resolve. Mashinka threw her arms round his reck, and burst into passionate tears. This was the first great sorrow that had ever darkened her happy life. ' Hilarion dear/ cried old Agrafena, wringing her hands wildly, as she now at last realised ' the full meaning of her beloved boy's words, ' you will break my heart if you talk like this.

You cannot bring your father back again. He is as lost to us as if he were dead. No exile ever returns from Siberia unless he is pardoned by the Father J himself. Hilarion, dear lad, the heavens are high, and the Czar is far off. Try then to forget that I ever told you about your poor father. For my sake, lad, try to be patient. It is God's will that you are separated from your father in this world ; but I pray that you may meet one day in that happy land, where there is no sorrow and no parting.' 1 Russians always call the Czar ' the Father. ' Old Agrafena now completely broke down, and sobbed as if her heart would break. Hilarion's grief was too deep for tears. All night he lay tossing restlessly. ' My father an exile ! ' he murmured to himself through the long, lonely hours ; ' how terrible ! how terrible ! ' Thus all the light and happiness was taken away from Hilarion's young life.

He had come face to face, as we all must come one day, with bitterness and sorrow, and he prayed to God that he might receive strength and courage to fight the hard battle, and endure without flinching to the end. B

CHAPTER IL

fKi||Sl^|.HE afternoon was already far advanced, m^fs and the throng of sledges had begun to r-*s^' diminish on the Nevski Prospekt, which is the street in St. Petersburg where all the wealth and magnificence of that most magnificent of cities is displayed, during the long winter season. A young man, in a somewhat old and shabby fur coat, turned out of the hurrying throng of foot passengers, on to the Fontanka Bridge, glancing up as he did so at the clock of the convent of St. Alexander Nevskoi, which at that moment struck the hour of six. His face was worn and haggard, and he shivered as he paused a moment to gaze wistfully over the cold, white streets which he had just left. Snow lay deep on the ground ; and, but for the busy moving crowd of human beings, the gay capital of Eussia might have been a city of ghosts, so vast and desolate it looked, with its endless vista of vast, snowis shrouded buildings, melting away on the sky - line into a mist of grey. ' I am later than I thought/ muttered the young man, as the last deep tones of the great clock died away on the frosty air.

Just then, a tall, soldierly-looking man, closely wrapped in furs, passed over the bridge, and glanced sharply at Alexis Piankoff, who started involuntarily and quickened his pace. ' That is very strange/ muttered Alexis, glancing back at the disappearing figure which had caused him so much uneasiness. ' Yakimoff has met me three times within the last five hours ; can it be by chance or design ? I trust to God that all is well.' By this time Alexis had crossed the bridge, and had begun to thread his way through less frequented thoroughfares. The few passers - by bore traces of poverty, and the character of the buildings on either side had also undergone a change. The splendid houses which form so striking an ornament to the Nevski Prospekt were now succeeded by dingy edifices, many of them with broken windows, and miserable, scantily - clothed children were playing in the road.

Before one of these gloomy houses, which bore such self - evident traces of neglect and decay, Alexis paused, and, after taking a careful survey of the street to make sure that he was unobserved, he knocked twice on the rickety door, uttering at the same time a low, peculiar whistle. In answer to this summons, the door was cautiously opened a few inches, and a thin cracked voice demanded who was there. ' 'Tis I, Helene/ replied Alexis. ' Oh, come in, barin ' (master), said the cautious guardian of the house, who now became visible, in the shape of a very old woman, whose thin wrinkled hands looked like claws, as she made haste to bar the door after Alexis had entered. ' Is Monsieur Lushinkoff here, Helene ? ' he asked, removing as he spoke his tattered fur coat. 'Yes, barin', replied the old woman; 'M. Nicolaie vitch and M. Afanasief are also with him.' 'Thanks be to the saints, then, all is still well/ said Alexis in an undertone, with a great sigh of relief.

The room which he entered was low and small; three men were seated round a stove in the corner, who looked up as he made his appearance. ' You are late again, Alexis/ said the oldest-looking of the three, removing a pipe from between his lips and puffing out a cloud of smoke. The speaker's face was very ugly, and was rendered almost forbidding by a long scar which seamed the right cheek. His hair was white, and formed a marked contrast to a pair of jet-black eyebrows, which were at this moment contracted into a deep frown. ' Yes, I was detained, Boris,' returned Alexis. ' By the way, Yakimoff passed me twice since I left you this morning.' Boris Lushinkoffs only reply was a still deeper frown. ' Let us to business at once/ said Nicolaievitch, who, though in reality a young man, looked prematurely old and jaded.

His firm mouth and prominent chin showed a determined nature ; and, but for a certain sinister expression in his keen grey eyes, he might have been considered handsome. All four men rose to their feet and approached a wooden table, upon which stood some half-empty glasses of tea, and a samovar, or hot-water urn. These were removed without delay, and a small bowl full of scraps of white paper substituted in their place. ' Gentlemen/ began Lushinkoff when they were seated round the table, ' we have two things to discuss this evening. The first is, of course, this plot against the Father's ** life, the second is the subject of money. We will take the plot first. Every detail has been most carefully thought out, and you have all agreed that it cannot be improved upon. Nothing, therefore, remains to be done, but to ascertain upon which of us four the lot shall fall of putting the plot into effect.

I propose that the drawing of lots commence without further delay. Each slip of paper in that bowl is, as you all know, folded once. There are forty-eight pieces, of which forty-seven are blanks — one alone is marked with a small red cross. He who draws this cross shall do the deed of vengeance.' ' Begin, then, Alexis/ said Nicolaievitch. 1 The Czar. Alexis, who had become very pale, took up a small book which lay on the table, beside the bowl containing the lots, and kissed it, saying as he did so these solemn words : — ' I swear to be true to the cause.' Then he dipped his hand into the bowl and drew out one of the folded scraps of paper. It was a blank. This ceremony was performed by each one of the Nihilists in turn. Three rounds passed. The red cross still remained undrawn. Intense excitement was visible on every face.

Once more it came to Alexis' turn. He dipped his hand into the fateful bowl, and drew out a slip of paper. Suddenly he started and uttered a low groan. ' I have drawn the red cross ! ' he exclaimed in a trembling voice. ' Then it is your lot to send the Father into the other world/ said Lushinkoff in a hard voice. ' Listen attentively to what I am about to say.' The two others leaned across the table, while Alexis put his hand up to his face as if in pain. 'The Father will leave the Winter Palace at three o'clock to-morrow afternoon, Alexis,' said Lushinkoff, speaking very slowly and deliberately, 'and will proceed for his usual drive along the Nevski. You must contrive to be close to the entrance to the palace when he returns. After the first guards have passed, you must throw this into the sledge.' Lushinkoff now rose to his feet, and raised a plank in the floor.

From the cavity below he drew forth a small box, and returned with it to the table. ' Look, then/ he said, unlocking the casket, ' at the little releaser of souls ! ' A white object, which bore a strong resemblance to a slab of tallow, was revealed to the view of the excited conspirators. ' If you fall when you are carrying this box, Alexis,' went on Lushinkoff, ' you yourself will be killed. It contains two ounces of dynamite, packed very closely. Therefore, be very careful. It is possible that you may escape unobserved in the crowd if you behave cleverly, but still I cannot help saying that the chances are very much against your doing so.' Alexis did not reply, he remained with his face buried in his hands. ' You understand everything clearly ? ' asked Lush inkoff sharply, glancing suspiciously at the young man. 'Let him be, Boris/ interposed Nicolaievitch, who, though deeply steeped in wickedness, had still a faint spark of kindly feeling left; he pitied Alexis deeply, for he saw that he had been completely overcome by the shock of drawing the fatal lot. ' Very well,' said Lushinkoff, turning his back on Alexis with a disagreeable and rather contemptuous smile. ' We will now give our attention to the second point under discussion, namely, our lack of money.

Without funds you all know that our secret society must, in the very near future, come to an untimely end. That would be a terrible calamity. It has extended its influence far and wide, and every day fresh members are joining it. None, as you know, are rich ; all, in fact, are very much the reverse. Some thing must therefore be done without any more delay if we wish our great Liberationist Society to continue its work of patriotism. The death of the Father is, of course, only one of the many projects in view.' Afanasief and Nicolaievitch expressed their assent to these remarks by a mute inclination of their heads. ' You will ask/ resumed Lushinkoff, with a satisfied smile at the effect his oratory produced, 'how this money is to be procured. I myself have thought of a plan. Not far from a certain town, known to myself and two others of the society, lives a rich and influential nobleman.

I have good reason to know that he has at this present moment sums to the amount of fifteen thousand roubles secreted in his house. This money must become the property of the society. I will undertake to procure it. Gentlemen, have you any objections to raise to my proposal ? ' Scarcely had Lushinkoff uttered these words, when a loud resounding knock was heard on the door. ' Open ! in the name of the police ! ' shouted a harsh voice, at the same time a heavy shower of blows made the stout oaken door tremble. ' Yakimoff's voice ! ' exclaimed Lushinkoff in tones rendered hoarse by excitement and terror. ' The bolts are strong — we must resist ! ' Bending down over the hole in the floor from which he had taken the dynamite bomb, Boris drew forth three revolvers and threw them on the table. Once more a voice of thunder demanded admittance.

One of the bolts gave way at the same moment. ' Rouse yourself, Alexis, or you will be lost ! ' shouted Lushinkoff, shaking the young man by the arm. Nicolaievitch and Afanasief had each seized a revolver, and were awaiting the entrance of their implacable enemies with bated breath. In another instant the door must yield. Louder and louder resounded the rain of blows. Lushinkoff was, however, not at the end of his resources. Casting a rapid glance round the room, he stepped quickly up to the wall opposite the door and pressed a hidden spring. The wall yielded. With a sigh of relief, the cunning wretch slipped through the opening, and vanished from the astonished gaze of his fellow-conspirators. Just then the door of the room yielded with a crash. Nicolaievitch, Afanasief, and Alexis found them selves prisoners in the hands of the secret police.

Chapter III

ittffffttf^ FTER the terrible secret had been divulged f^g^wg which caused so much unhappiness in 5j^1l" Shamarin's little household, things P^W once more settled down into their old groove. iN*^ Agrafena sighed when she looked at Hilarion's sad young face, yet she fancied that time would heal his great sorrow. Since the evening of the harvest festival, Hilari6n had said no more about his project of seeking his exiled father ; but somehow the village folk had got wind of his scheme, and one and all pitied him both openly and secretly, for they thought that he must be mad to even dream of leaving his home. Stories fly fast in such small communities, and soon all sorts of different versions of Agrafena's revelations were passed from mouth to mouth. Hilarion became something of a hero, especially among the women-folk.