In the Old Chateau ... A novel

Chapter I. In The Chateau Royal At Warsaw

" If I could only crush them, . . . the traitor dogs ! " and the noble Count de Berg clenched his fist, with vain impre cations of rage as he spoke. His eye roved in discontent over the sleeping city of Warsaw. With his head bowed, and his hands clasped behind him, he slowly paced the grand terrace of the Chateau Royal. The breeze of night stirred the leaves of the trees fringing the superb terraces sweeping down to the Vistula. There was no sound, as the Governor-General communed with his anxious heart, save the distant sentinels turning wearily on their posts. " I would be happier, if I were a simple sergeant ! " bitterly mused De Berg. " A medal, a pension, a few days of vodki happiness, and the coarse joys of barrack frolics, with the rough fidelity of peasant love, these things are the lot of the contented common herd !

And I, ruler of the Kingdom of Poland, with an empire's whole resources to aid me, am baffled here by e a few beggarly malcontents. I have tried in vain to break their lines. "Will my failure cost me these gew-gaws, or, perhaps, doom me to Siberia ? Who knows ! " His restless, nervous fingers thrilled with a mad desire to tear off the stars and jewelled orders glittering on his breast. " I will never live to be the butt of every court fool, — every would-be dictator. And a false step now may cost me all that thirty years of service has won." He sighed heavily as he gazed into the few windows still lit up, where his merry official staff were yet pledging the Czar. The eight hundred feet of the grand facade was deserted, save by the guards, and a single aide-de-camp, who followed the perplexed Governor at a respectful distance while waiting his slightest signal.

Count de Berg paused, and noted the glitter of the stars in the dark gliding waters of the swift river. The leaves of early autumn rustled down beside him as he sought a lower terrace, and threw himself down on a marble seat. Great Warsaw lay couchant like a sleeping lion around him. The hail of a distant sentinel alone broke the oppress ive silence, as the noble turned and gazed at the grand old pile where first the Dukes of Mazovie once held royal state. " Accursed palace prison ! " he bitterly cried. " Your halls are only dens of traitors, your very air is poisoned with foul intrigues, and heavy with the breathings of revolt ! Kings have been driven broken-hearted from your throne hall, heroes betrayed within your spy-haunted walls, the state basely sold, and humanity itself abased ! What will my fate be here ?

Will I suddenly meet my successor — some upstart of the hour, or receive an order which will carry its banishment for life. For in this game of brute-force against sly Polish intrigue, I may have frittered away an Emperor's confidence ! I have lost, even with my crowded camps, my corrupting gold, my secret powers. M' THE CHATEAU ROYAL AT W A US AW, 3 " To say, at List, thaf I cannot trace oat lie secret plots of lliese fomenting disorders, means my utter ruin. " At any moment my downfall may be announced, and my punishment begin ! IF I could only read the stars — what wails lor me In the future — when they swing up pitiless from the eastern skies. The Czar demands but out; thing, success. He exacts an absolute obedience, and -at the gage of my very life, perhaps I I must find a way to win in this blnnl game of counter-conspiracy, of foul intrigue.

I claim no second-sight of genius, and yet, great Napoleon was as blind, when lie walked these paths, as blind as moody Wallenstein at Eger, or the misanthrope Charles V. on the battlements of the Escori.il ! For the stars swing on in silence while man drifts along to wreck. to ruin, ever blindly struggling against the awful decrees of Fate. My last re port was harshly received by the Czar as unsatisfactory. The utmost rigor, the most searching probing nf society the lavish bribes thrown away, all have failed me ! — And, here under my feet, in this foul nest of Warsaw, the glowing coals of treason's tires nre being fanned into some mysterious up rising I Now at any instant, I may hear " He turned his head, 35 trelow him, a single officer, dashing along at a mad gallup, rode Up toward the great sally-port of the garrisoned old palaci (if the Jugellons.

Behind the reckless rider, a squad of Cossacks clattered along on their Meet steeds, — with tall lances gleaming pale bhie in the crystalline starlight. "■A courier ' " wearily sighed the Governor-General, as he left the seat where Sobieski had vainly battled with his cares. — where Augustus of Saxony had sadly thought of his fair Autore, far away : and the minion PoniatowsUi had dreamed of the mighty Semiraruis, whose wayward love had led him, by the path nf shame, to Poland's ill-fated throne! Wearied ol his gloomy presages, the: man whose iron hand ruled couchant Poland, in the name of Alexander II., retraced his steps to enter his secret cabinet. Tired of the fulsome formalities of a banquet given to the higher officers of the reinforced garrison, the ruler of conquered Poland had quietly escaped for the quiet of the midnight hour on the terrace.

" I can trust no one," he muttered : " I only dare to think when alone out here ; my letters; my reports, my secret measures all seem to be open to these plotting mongrels. It is only a gilded siege, this palace life here, for in the three hundred thousand who swarm here, racial division and villany foil me at every turn. A hundred thousand vile Jews, a hundred and fifty thousand Poles, all mad with their trea son villany, and the Czar's few friends are only the soldiery and the lazy pampered officials. And of these last, how many, seduced by Polish glitter and womanish arts, may not have betrayed their trust. The Count de Berg started back, as an aide, hastily ap proaching, saluted, and in a low tone reported : "A special imperial courier, with dispatches for instant delivery." " More useless orders, more commands, impossible to fulfill !

" sighed the Governor-General, as he alertly strode toward his own special retreat. " There is but one thing left ! To wipe out every trace of the Polish autonomy, to extend the regular imperial system of Russia to the very western frontier and to build a new fortress around Warsaw — with its guns pointing inwards ! " The Count did not smile at his involuntary witticism, as he passed from the great eastern wing, out of the haunted chambers of the shadowy Polish kings, on through the silent Senate Hall, and deserted Chamber of Deputies, through the huge Throne Room, to the great western wing, with its nucleus of an army. His two aides strode swiftly on, and noted the fierce Mongolian eyed Cossacks, standing with drawn sabres, at every portal ! An involuntary shivering made the noble's teeth chatter as he walked through the violated shrines of an enslaved nation.

IN THE CHATEAU ROYAL AT WARSAW. 5 " Do I go to my disgrace ? " he mournfully thought. " If it were not for Xenia and Serge, I would welcome the farthest post, the meanest place the Czar's anger may assign ! " He gazed from a window, looking out on the Place Zamkowy. It had seemed to him that the pictured Polish kings glared down and cursed him as he passed, and new legions of rebels started out from the huge battle-scenes on the walls, showing how Poland's flower had once carried their lance headed banners in victory into the very heart of Russia. On the heavy black clouds now gathering over doomed Warsaw, the reflection of twenty thousand lights threw a faint, angry glow. " I would like to fire this nest of rebels with my own hand ! " he snarled. " Fire and sword for the Pole ! Peace ! The peace of the grave !

" His stern soldierly face lit up as he strode into the hall where his generals received daily his secret orders to tighten the links of the galling chain of repression. " Admit him ! " was his brief command, as an adjutant, springing to his feet, whispered to the man whose signature could bring the proudest head in Poland to the halter. The anteroom door opened, and a swarthy Circassian Captain of the Guard escorted a single officer to the Count's side. Through the open door a score of the wild mountaineers, dirk, pistol and sabre in hand, cast eyes of mingled curiosity and fierceness on the Petersburg dandy as he passed. Their astrachan turbans, gleaming silver cartridge-cases, and national garb lent a farouche air to the men whose fidelity as body-guard still proves the value of a Mussul man's oath !

Even the stains of travel, the weariness of a forty-verst night gallop could not hide the singular beauty and graceful elegance of the man who, saluting as a soldier, bowed in deepest respect, as he handed a sealed dispatch to Count de Berg. " From His Highness the Grand Duke ! " The last words were lost to the waiting aide-de-camps, who started involuntarily. The Governor-General's eyes flashed, as, tearing open the envelope bearing the seal of the Czar's private secretary, he eagerly scanned its contents. Signing to the waiting soldier to be seated at his side, De Berg drew a long breath, as he heard the whispered answer to his single query : " In an hour, Your Excellency, I am to report at the head of the Pont d'Alexandre, on the Praga side of the river." Without a word, the Count de Berg turned to his adjutant, who stood, note book in hand.

" Colonel," the Governor said, with practised decision, " double the guards at the Chateau. Send out twelve com panies of the Guards instantly to line the Pont d'Alexandre- Four sotnias of Cossacks also to patrol Praga. Two more to accompany this officer. My guard, my horse at once, at the main guard-post. Send General Alexandroff and the Palace Intendant to me, in my cabinet. Silence, and not a moment's delay! Let the Circassians on duty guard this officer over the Pont d'Alexandre." " A soldier, every inch of him ! " decided the imperial courier, as he sprang into his saddle at the sally-port. Around him, forty dark riders started out of the gloom, grim children of the night, and with no sound of voice or bugle, the palace grounds, the Place Zamkowy, the terraced garden, the river banks and the Place de la Vieille Ville soon swarmed with two thousand armed men.

Not a human being was allowed to enter or leave the Palace after Count de Berg sprang into the saddle, and with an anxiously beating heart dashed over the bridge, whose every recess now held a score of riflemen. For it was in the year eighteen and sixty. Murder, assassination and dark deeds of night made the streets of Warsaw a path perilous. Not one of the mute soldiery, grimly clutching their loaded guns, knew whose form was hidden by the shrouding cloak — whose face was buried under the great nodding white plumes of the Field-Marshal's chapeau, as Count de Berg, Governor- IN 7Y7E CHATEAU ROYAL AT WARSAW. 7 General of a captive kingdom, the ruler of enslaved Poland, sprang from his horse, and respectfully kissed the hand thrust out from an Imperial britzka. Without" a word, he rose from his bended knee, and entered the carriage which dashed along over the guarded bridge.

Through lanes of gleaming steel, the mud-spattered vehicle rolled into the court-yard of the Chateau Royal. The kingly postern gate was opened, and the gleaming lights of fifty liveried footmen only revealed the form of a powerful man of middle age, as the Count de Berg with profound deference led the way to the state apartments of the Polish Kings ! Every nook of the tapestried chambers had been searched, and the glare of wax chandeliers showed the faintest tracery on every richly decorated wall — but not the four armed Circas sians, standing behind a canopy — in the corner of every room ! When Warsaw awoke to its varied games of a cunning greed or traitorous intrigue, its daily round of dance and lust and laughter, its mingled schemes of Russ and Pole and Jew — the great yellow imperial banner, with its huge black double headed eagle, told the half million of slaves that a Romanoff had slept in the palace, the way to which was watered with Poland's best blood — shed in vain !

And, late toward the dawn, the Count de Berg had turned his keen eyes in anxiety toward the man whose searching queries racked his very heart. For in a little jewel-casket room, where fair queens had once burned with love's avowals and blushed in passion's thrill, the chosen brother of the mighty Czar secretly debated the fate of Poland with the Governor. Even lovely Countess Xenia, waiting, pale-faced, for her lord's return, dared not whisper the dangerous question of the identity of the midnight visitor. Too well she knew, in her splendid misery of isolation, that all doors opened at a touch of him who came in Alexander's name ! That, though now loaded with an Emperor's honors, her gallant husband's tenure of place might be forfeited by one imprudent word, a single awkward disclosure. For even in the safe retreat of the marriage-chamber, the noble pair were watched by officer, functionary, spy, servant, and the gliding servants of the Third Section !

The fall which might doom De Berg himself to an exile of years, would close the gilded doors of the Court to its shining social star, the Countess, and send the dashing young Guardsman, her son, to the devoted martyrdom of the war raging in the defiles of the Caucasus. The Governor-General trembled at the suspicions of his doubted trust and faith which had led a Grand Duke seven hundred miles in a mad incognito race, galloping unceasing, to pounce suddenly upon him at night and perhaps demand a final account of the stewardship of Poland ! For while the yellow and black flag would float over the crumbling walls of the great palace, the fateful dispatch gave up to the Grand Duke the absolute authority of mighty Alexander II. There was no shade of either friendship or distrust upon the face of the imperial visitor, as he commanded the Gov ernor-General to observe the strictest silence.

" I shall see no one but yourself and such persons as I may send for," briefly answered the Grand Duke, as the Governor ventured a question of ceremony. They were alone, and the feast already served waited in the private royal salon, while Count de Berg vainly tried to read his fate in the impassive face of the Grand Duke. A few sharp questions showed that the visitor possessed the fullest secret details of his own latest reports. " Your last report was unsatisfactory, my dear Count," said the Grand Duke, throwing the document on the table. " The Imperial will demands of you, further action — grave, earnest, sweeping, relentless ! I am charged by His Imperial Maj esty to say to you that he reposes every confidence in your zeal, your activity, your courage and firmness. But I have been charged with the gravest mission of my life !

As a last resort, before a wholesale ' repression,' I am directed to confer with you, and to see if we jointly cannot reach the heart of the hidden mystery. You are in a growing ferment here, and I am authorized to tell you alone that West Russia is aflame ! Kowno, Vitebsk, Wilna, Grodno, Minsk, Volhynia, Podolia and Moghilev are now only nests of rebels ! The crisis is very near. An outbreak may occur any day." The Count de Berg lifted his eyes in astonishment, as the Grand Duke's voice sounded solemnly in his ears. " And I did not even suspect this ! " he stammered. " I have tried to do my duty ! " The anguish on the Governor-General's face touched the stern Grand Duke. " My friend, we have all been deceived by the apparent quiet. Dismiss your personal fears ! The Emperor trusts you more than ever !

The proof— you alone will know of my mission. It is the personal order of my august brother. The plan of action will tie you in even closer relations to the Imperial family. The Czar sends you this ! " And the noble's heart leaped up in pride, as the Grand Duke fixed on his breast, while he dropped on one knee, the star of the one order whose attainment had been the Count's life ambition. " We ask no greater fidelity ; we claim only your continued activity and absolute silence! For, a slip of your tongue now might balk the designs of Holy Russia ! " Spreading out a little sketch-map on the table, the visitor sharply said : " Fix your mind on this : The line from Konigsberg to Odessa is the shortest transverse diameter of Europe. You see here the Kingdom of Poland thrown out, like a bastion, far beyond it.

Its possession gives us the entry into Prussia and Austria ! Dropping all the juggling of the three* partitions of Poland, the Russian power must spend its last drop of blood, its last million of treasure to hold this natural fort ! We are not ready for a great war yet. The Russian hand moves slowly, but its grasp is of iron ! "Forty years from now, a network of railroads, a series of great works, a planting of military depots, will make the Kingdom of Poland one citadel, against which all Europe could hurl itself in vain. Forced to watch Constantinople and guard the mouth of the Danube, our first enemy is Austria. We count on another power to soon break down Austria, — the rising giant of the north, — Prussia ! When these jealous western nations have humbled each other, we will be fresh, and our work will be soon finished.

We can then tear to tatters the work of the Congress of Vienna, sneer at the Paris convention, and, before the twentieth century dawns, throw ourselves on any one European enemy and easily crush it. Our motto is the Prussian one, ' Drill, edu cate, watch, and, at our very strongest, fight our weakest ene my ! ' In twenty years Poland, girdled with military railways and bristling with forts, can be easily held by our reserves, while we freely fight Turkey, England, or menace Prussia, in force ! " To do all this, we must rub out the last vestige of Polish coherence. Napoleon was right ! Passionate, fickle, fierce, and foolish, the Poles are doomed. You see now, my dear Count, that we must hold Poland, even if the heavens fall ! The fate of Christendom was once decided on this same short line, when Sobieski crushed the Turkish hosts in 1683.

The domination of Europe will again be debated on the plains of Prussia or Austria. France is tottering to its fall, with the corruption of wealth. England, day by day, shrinks behind its trading flag, and its money-getters rule the land of the Queen of the Sea ! The red revolution we fear now is behind your lines. The eight interior Polish provinces are ripe for arising ! Any emeute there would cut you off, and you might be left as a Varus among modern barbarians. We could easily replace our butchered armies. But we must not lose Poland ! It is the key of Russia's western lines. If we ever fight en masse, we will fight in the enemy's country. They shall feel the Russian heel from the very first gun ! " " And your new plans ? " The Count was mystified. The Grand Duke thoughtfully regarded him.

" When all your well-meant zeal gave the Emperor no definite information, the tension in your territory, the personal activity of the nobles and dangerous classes led us to look elsewhere. Our keenest spies, our ablest agents, were soon scattered through West Russia. It is natural with one-third of your popula tion, Jews who hate us, that the same proportion of Israel ites in the other eight provinces, would aid the plotting Poles. These Jews look to see their ancient privileges restored by the Poles, as far as the Dnieper. The Polish nobles, from our old lines to your western extremity, fear the coming abo lition of serfdom. There never was a land where the gap between noble and serf was as wide as in the old realm of Poland! And there the Jews, as middle-men, reaped the golden harvest they so eagerly crave.

So, noble, Jew, and Polish peasant have at last united. They are ripe for a rising behind you now ! But, when our secret spies had dogged these midnight assemblies, these veiled conspirators, in all their movements in the Provinces I name, the Emperor de cided to crush them forever i " A cruel gleam flamed in the Grand Duke's eyes, as his voice rang out pitilessly. " Your leading dangerous nobles have been mysteriously lurking over in these Russian regions. So you were baffled ! But we will let them go on blindly. We will trap them ! The Emperor will not try to avert this rising. He only waits to bring it on. You are strong enough here, and two corps d'armee, under Michel Mouravieff are ready to sweep in over the Dnieper, and smite the very last offender." In a whisper, the Grand Duke closed.

" Then, the unification of your charge with Russia will be vigorously carried out at once." " But the Poles ? " timidly said Count de Berg. " Let there be no longer a Polish nation ! " growled the Grand Duke. " Catholic, foreign refugee, mongrel Jew, Polish hound, all this scum shall be swept away ! But first, we will let the great nobles run into our trap. When it is sprung, they will fall into our hands. Punishment, exile, confiscation will follow. The scum will revolt! We will force it on. And every domain to the frontier shall soon have a loyal Russian noble as its head. Now," said the Grand Duke, "follow my orders exactly. Let the whole troops under your control be at once reviewed and inspected. Be gin with the Warsaw garrison to-morrow. It will divert these dogs ! Report to me at orderly hour to-morrow with a list of every Polish noble under your government who holds an estate.

I have the same for our eight western provinces. Send instant orders to the mare'chals de noblesse of every sub-government to report to you forthwith." The Emperor's brother paused, and smiled at the embarrassment of the Governor-General, who was standing, all attention, before him. " My dear Count, recognize no one in your relations with me, save the young officer I sent you. Alexis Dournof is Major of the Cuirassiers of the Guard, and he is charged with springing the net upon the Polish nobles. He bears them no good-will, for his father fell under Baron Meyendorf at the deadly grapple of Grochow, when the cavalry died to a man to save Diebitch. Dournof is the only human being, save the Czar himself, who knows of our design to lure these nobles deeper into our hands. " " And why ? " murmured De Berg.

" Because, getting them all implicated in one questionable affair, they will soon be scattered forever, and their domains be peopled with loyal Russians. Here ' we piece out the lion's hide with the fox's skin ! ' You know the old proverb, Count, ' One Greek can outwit any ten Europeans ; one Jew, ten Greeks; and one Russian, ten Jews.' The Polish proprietors have hidden safely behind our privileges, and their plots have been sheltered by their ardent, passionate women, aided by the Jews, and our policy has even been tampered with by the foreigner. They shall have their les son soon. Now, silence as to my identity! I will leave here secretly at night. Only the Countess and your son may be presented. I shall soon need her help." The Governor-General raised his eyes in astonishment. " My wife !

" " Precisely," calmly answered the Grand Duke, as he dis missed the Count for the night. " You will give a grand ball here, under Dournof's direction, and I will give one, on my return, at Wilna. I propose that we shall find out the weak points of the whole Polish and Lithuanian nobles." " But the troubles ! " suggested the Governor-General. " I shall fight behind flowers ! " smiled the Grand Duke. " With gold and flattery, I will win my way to the weakest elements of Polish womanhood. While the army waits for the word, some social dalliance may help us on our way ! " Profoundly bowing, the .Count de Berg receded from the presence of the man who, striding to a window, gazed out into the night. Count de Berg shuddered as he saw the heavy-set Muscovite raise his clenched hand in a gesture of ominous wrath.

Standing in his long gray coat, edged with priceless sable, one gleaming white cross on his breast, a soldier booted and spurred, his gauntlets and stiff cap in his left hand ; the bullet head, the gray eyes, the bristling mus tache and bronzed hardened features of the rough, resolute, imperial magnate indicated the trained force, the resistless energy, and the ferocious activity of the Romanoffs. There was a pitiless smile on the thin cruel lips, under which the strong white teeth flashed, for the Grand Duke held in his heart alone the secret of the doom of a nation ! And all night, to the resounding tread of the sentinels, the Count de Berg, who had cheered his timid wife to her rest, pondered upon the meshes of an intrigue which, spreading out before him, veiled the waiting scaffold and the prison-cell's horrors behind the glamour of the ball-room.

" There will be no more Polish nation ! " he mechanically repeated, and before his eyes rose up the stony face of Mou ravief the terrible, the Silent General, whose finger-tip pointed only to the felon's grave. For Michel Mouravief was the haunting curse of Poland, and his blood-hounds bayed even now in the distance ! And so the dreaming night mantled sleeping Warsaw, with its thousand lights glittering on the blood-stained banks of the Vistula. " Good ! " cried the Grand Duke, as in the morning light, he scanned, at his ease, the list of the Polish nobles handed him by the Count. " One hour to the society of your charming wife, and then, — to work." The roll of drums and scream of fifes broke out upon the morning air, and the sunlight glittered upon the waving pen nons, flashing bayonets and gorgeous uniforms of the Czar's soldiery pouring out to the Champ de Manœuvres at Moko tow.

The rumbling of heavy cannon deepened the cadence of the strong tread of the solid regiments moving along in ominous silence. Crowds of grinning, inert Jews thronged the avenues, and the thin-lipped Poles with dark eyes, flashing in hatred, turned away into the side streets, and left the great avenues to the rabble, the strangers and a mob of idle, half-frenzied students. No martial music resounded in the air. It was a demonstration of irresistible brute-force, the hoarse commands of the officers breaking the gloomy silence, like the ravens croaking over an unreaped battle field ! While Countess Xenia de Berg personally inspected the room where the visitor would sit in the place of departed kings, and a dainty repast was spread, the Grand Duke, led by Count de Berg, threaded in curiosity the vast tangle of the Chateau Royal's interior.

A solid line of troops en closed the Chateau Royal in a mighty square, now reaching from the Quartier Juif to the Place de Saxe, and from the Arsenal to the River. On through the great lonely ball room, haunted by the bright-eyed Polish patricians, whose slender feet twinkled no more in the gaiduk, or cracovienne, the two plotters against the haughty rebel nobles, passed through galleries lined with statues of the great who have vainly died for Poland, that unhappy land, the battlefield of the Swede, the Russ, the German, the Austrian, and the fierce swarming Frenchmen of the man of Austerlitz. Empty niches, yawning gaps in the superb collections of centuries drew the Grand Duke's eyes. " All sent to Petersburg, Your Highness, in 1831," the Count replied to an inquiring glance. " I shall advise the dismantling of the whole !

" grimly answered the Grand Duke, "and a new citadel planted here on the ruins of the rat-hole of Polish thieves ! " When from the tower, the secret emissary turned his eyes upon the superb panorama, he slowly said, with a proud glance, " Russian it must be forever ! It is a royal scene ! " The Grand Duke's glass swept the scene with the skill of a strategist. From Praga, with its bloody fields of Bialo lenka, Grochow and Wawer, past Wilanow, with its memories of princely Lubomirski, and Potocki. On past Morysin, Natolin and Powaski, the Grand Duke scanned the princely palaces, the splendid parks, and the charming chateaux of the ruined magnates of the White Eagle. The Emperor's brother smiled when he recognized the Praga suburb which from its bloody triumph of the Black Eagle, made Suwarrow a field-marshal, and enabled Catherine to point her diamond wit over forty thousand dead and wounded !