Bella-Demonia. A dramatic story

Dedication

A. M. PALMEK, Esq.,

PALMER'S AND MADISON SQUARE THEATRES, NEW YORK.

To you, to whom I owe so many a kindly word and deed, at times when Fate pressed hardest, — given with gentle, simple courtesy, as if the service rendering were a hoon receiving, — to you, whose unspoken sympathy has brought me comfort in my darkest hours, I have naught to give in return, nor ever shall have, save remembrance. "Will vou accept it?

Chapter I. The Honorable John Vyvian Fane

" "OUT indeed, Excellency, the fare is three roubles." JD "Away! and quickly."

" But indeed "

" What ! still whining ? Here ! take that !"

The sharp^shriek of a man in pain rang out in the wintry ,air, and was lost on the snow-clad Prospect. An isvoshtshik — a sleigh-driver — had been struck across the face by the passenger who had just descended from his droschky, at the top of the Newski Prospect.

The isvoshtshik was a miserable specimen of the Russian moujik or peasant class, clad in the ragged fur coat and pleated boots of his profession, and, as he cowered against the side of his droschky, formed a wonderful contrast to the man who had struck him. The latter stood illumined by the oil lamp that lit the curb hard by (I am talking of the Petersburg of twenty years ago), a figure of military erectness, clad in a long and tightly-fitting coat of dark cloth, heavily trimmed with Astrachan fur ; the cap on his head and the gloves on his hands were of the same material, and his feet were encased in high polished leather boots whose simplicity bespoke their English manufacture. The face illuminated as the man turned, by the oil lamp, was finely cut and of an ivory pallor. What was visible of the closely-cut hair beneath the fur cap was of a jet-black, as was also the stiff military moustache which, drawn to fine points on either side, disclosed a thin, pale, cruel mouth. The man looked down at the trembling moujik, one hand upon his hip, the other holding a light rattan which still quivered with the force of the blow which had just been laid across the moujik' 's face.

There was nothing very noteworthy — especially at the time of which I write — in a droschky-driver being struck by his client, but the stillness of the air in the keen frost of the Russian winter seemed to accentuate the bitterness of the cry that rang out. At any rate, it attracted the notice of a man who, stepping from the shadow of a neighboring gate-way, approached the group.

" Come, come," said the new arrival, in the tone of one accustomed to command, " men are not flogged in the streets of Petersburg for nothing. What is the meaning of this?"

The man who had struck the sleigh-driver turned on his heel and confronted his interrogator. The manner of the latter immediately changed, and, straightening his figure as he raised his hand in military salute, he exclaimed, in a tone of surprise, — »

" The Gospodar Vyvian Fane ! We are punctual !"

As he spoke, the rnoujik, who had fastened his eyes on the newcomer's face, sprang upon the driving-seat of his droschky, exclaiming under his breath as he did so, —

" Dmitri Keratieff, of the Secret Police ! Holy St. Katerine, what an escape !" And, before either of the pair could turn, he had started his horse and disappeared down one of the by-streets leading out of the Newski Prospect.

"Yes," said the man whom Keratieff had addressed as Vyvian Fane, in answer to the Police Agent's ejaculation, " my business is of a kind that demands punctuality on my part, promptitude on yours. No need to trouble about this scoundrel — ah! he is gone; it is well. He tried to claim a double fare : he mistook his man."

And the Honorable John Vyvian Fane laughed, a little hard laugh that parted his thin lips over two rows of small cruel teeth.

" You have brought the papers ?" queried Keratieff.

" Here they are," replied Fane, drawing a letter-case from his pocket and taking thence a folded sheet. " This one will be more than sufficient. It is a letter from Alexis Dorski, the Terrorist leader, to the Prince Ladislas Galitzin. You will see that it proves the intimacy of the two."

"That will indeed be sufficient," returned the Police Agent; and, hastily unbuttoning the cloak which was wrapped about his somewhat stunted form, the light of a small flat lantern shone out, instantly lit by some chemical process, and illuminating the sheet which Keratieff perused attentively.

" It is more than enough," observed he, as he extinguished the light and refolded the paper, which he, in turn, placed in his pocket-book. " How does the Prince Ladislas come to have let this fall into our hands?"

" He had intrusted it to his sister, the Princess Carita Galitzin, for safe custody. It is from her that it was — obtained."

The Chief of Police glanced quickly and keenly at the impassive face of the Englishman.

" Ah !" he ejaculated. Then, after an instant's pause, he asked, " When do you desire that this arrest should take place?"

" At once. Within an hour he must be safely lodged in the Fortress of St. Peter and St. Paul."

"So soon?"

"Yes. The young fool was so ill-advised as to attempt to make a scene at the Club to-night. The matter must not be taken up again to-morrow. He must have disappeared. You understand ?"

" Perfectly."

"And mark me, also," continued Fane, lowering his voice, though in the moonlight it was plain that no one was near. "Once in the fortress, he must not come out. There must be no trial."

The Police Agent smiled :

" Have no fear, Gospodar Fane. Prisoners who take the groundfloor apartments of St. Peter and St. Paul seldom come to trial. The place is damp. Life is uncertain. The Prince Ladislas is delicate. By the bye, you might like to assist when — wheu the time comes. A prison funeral is an interesting thing — to a foreigner."

"Are you sure you can lay your hand upon him at once?" queried Fane, not appearing to notice the other's words.

" In an hour he will be safely lodged," answered Keratieff, echoing the Englishman's words.

" Where is he now ? He left the Club at once."

" He is with his wife."

" What /"

" With his wife. The prince has been more than a year married. A mesalliance, Excellency."

" I did not know of this."

" Nor any one else, with the exception of Dmitri Keratieff and the Princess Carita his sister."

" The deuce !"

" There is yet time in half an hour, should you change your mind."

" Change my mind ! Never ! the revenge will be all the finer. What a chance !"

Vyvian Fane was about to leave his companion, when the latter stopped him, laying a hand upon his arm.

" This is a terrible revenge, Gospodar Fane," he said. " It strikes his sister and his wife with him."

" Well ?"

" It will probably kill both these women."

Vyvian Fane had bitten the end from a cigar and had struck a match. As he held the flame close to his face, his dark sinister eyes flashed into those of the Police Agent.

The cruel smile disfigured his face again, as he threw down the match and without a word turned on his heel and strode off into the night.

" What a devil !" said Keratieff to himself, as he looked after the retreating figure. " But all the same an invaluable member of our Third Section." And then, hailing a droschky which had been hovering about as if anticipating a fare, he sprang into it, and disappeared in the direction of the police head-quarters.

As the sound of the sleigh-bells died away in the distance, the moon shone down upon the Newski Prospect and the square of St. Nicholas, which were once more deserted in the frost-bitten air.

3io BELLA-DEMONIA.

Chapter II. Husband And Wife

Of St. Petersburg, as of every other city of the world, the most magnificent and the most squalid dwelling-places abut upon the river. Just as the late Tuileries and the Louvre, in common with the obscurest tenements of the Quartier Latin, look upon the Seine, — just as the Houses of Parliament and Somerset House, in common with the 'longshore hovels of the city, look upon the Thames, — so in Petersburg the Winter Palace, in common with the warrens of the moujik population, looks upon the Neva.

In these warrens live for the most part the students of the city ; here it is that the majority of Nihilist intrigues foster and spread, and here it is that the domestic spy, the dvornik, or concierge, is most looked after and best paid by the Secret Police. It is here also that tenements can be found whose dvorniks are better paid by the tenants than by the police, and where individuals who desire to efface themselves conceal their identities behind passports either fictitious in themselves or issued to worthy citizens who have died or disappeared long ago.

In a blind alley leading from the inner court of one of the most intricate blocks of buildings we find with difficulty a low door, announcing a squalid interior, to all appearance a stable or warehouse. We might knock here for an hour without evoking any sign of human habitation, but draw a stick or stone lightly across the door and we are answered by a single word whispered inside. A couple of these passwords are exchanged, and the door opens noiselessly.

Immediately the foot-fall is muffled by the furs with which the hall-way is strewn. We pass through heavy curtains and reach the innermost room of this abode, which, lit entirely by sky-lights and softly-burning lamps, is a very jewel-box. The apartment into which we have penetrated is carpeted with Ukraine and Siberian skins, the walls are hung with silks from Ispahan and embroideries from Damascus. The furniture is of the carved ebony from the banks of the Indus, ancient weapons of Turkish origin are festooned upon the silken walls, and on the tables are scattered the gold and silver trinkets of Indian and Persian master-workmen. An inlaid lute of Venetian craft lies upon a chair, an Angora cat is stretched asleep upon another, at opposite ends of the room hang masterpieces of Flemish and French art, in a corner stands a marble statuette from some Florentine atelier: in a word, all that luxury and taste can conceive is grouped here as a proper setting for the woman who lies upon a huge divan, nestling among the piled-up cushions in her garments of soft clinging silks, — waiting.

The woman who waits is the Princess Nadine Galitzin, once the handmaiden of the Princess Carita, and now the wife of the young Prince Ladislas.

Yes, the Prince Ladislas Galitzin had made what the w 7 orld would have stigmatized as a mesalliance, but no one would doubt for a moment, looking at the woman as she lies on her divan, that some strain of noble blood, a bar sinister if you will, made her worthy to share the title even of the last Prince Galitzin.

As she lies waiting the advent of her husband, her mind wanders back over all the ecstasy of the past two years. She lives over again the happy days in the chateau by Ladoga, where she lived more the companion and sister of the Princess Carita than her handmaid, — the arrival from college of Prince Ladislas, — the gradual awaking in her soul of the conviction that this was the Kamar-al-Zaman of her dreams, the King of the Time for her. She remembers the steps in their courtship, the first time that their eyes met and rested in each other, and the death thenceforth of the indifference of the maiden to her mistress's brother; their sudden meeting in one of the corridors, when the prince had clasped her in hiy arms and kissed her for the first time and then fled without a word ; then the progress of their secret betrothal, so sedulously concealed from the old Prince Galitzin ; the misery with which she learned of his approaching departure to take up his commission in the Tzar's body-guard, the Regiment of the Transfiguration, and how the prince persuaded his old tutor the family chaplain to marry them secretly in the chapel of the chateau ; their flight to Petersburg ; the joys of the year that had elapsed since then, — the greatest of all, perhaps, the day when the Princess Carita had come to her hiding-place to welcome her by the sweet name of sister.

The concealment of their marriage had been a matter of vital necessity. The young Prince Galitzin, last of his branch of a family exalted throughout the history of the Empire, had in his wild student days been suspected of liberal views, and the Tzar had designed for him a brilliant marriage with the daughter of one of the oldest conservative families of his realm. Hence his position in the body-guard ; hence the necessity for the concealment of his marriage. Only one besides his sister knew of it, and that was Dmitri Keratieff, Chief of that Third Section, — the secret police that, even to-day, make life in Russia a perpetual terror. But Dmitri Keratieff owed much to the Galitzin family, and with him the secret was safe until such time as its keeping should conflict with his devotion to his master.

The Princess Nadine lay anxiously awaiting her husband : her state was delicately precarious, and the mystery that surrounded her sometimes told hard upon her. Suppose anything should happen? The secret police, she knew too well, acted blindly like the Council of Ten upon denunciations made by unknown enemies. If such a fate should befall her idol, what would be his doom, — and hers ? At the thought, recurring as it did to-night with tenfold persistence, she buried her head in the cushions and groaned rather than cried, —

" Husband ! husband !"

A rattle of the rings of the hangings, a strong step upon the piled-up furs, and he is with her.

"Nadia — matiouchka [little mother], beloved! I am here!"

She is in his arms in an instant ; all her misery, all her apprehension, is lost in the ecstasy of his kiss. Yes, he is safe, — safe from all harm ; for no one can disturb them here. Their secret is too well guarded. She has no fear.

" I have been so frightened, Ladislas : every hour that you are not with me I torture myself with fears for you. Suppose they should discover me? Perhaps they would look upon your disobedience to the Tzar as cause for your arrest, — for — for anything. Oh, be careful, beloved ; should anything befall you it would kill me, — would kill us both. Think of that other life that shall be so dear to us, Ladislas."

" Courage, — courage, Nadia !" he replies. " There is no danger. We cannot be discovered, sweetheart. I know how lonely, how dull you must be. Well, to-night I have a surprise for you : we expect a visitor."

" A visitor ?" A look of alarm creeps into the beautiful eyes as she echoes his words.

" Yes. You have heard me speak of Alexis Alexandrovitch ?"

" Alexis Dorski, the Nihilist !"

"The same. My old college companion, unknown even to the faction of which he is the leader, comes to Petersburg to-night. I want him to see my wife, my pride. He is coming here."

" Oh, Ladislas, how imprudent you are !"

" Not at all. I have the fullest knowledge that his presence here is unsuspected. Nothing can ever assail Alexis Dorski if he so wills it. Have no fear, darling."

As he speaks, the old servant who alone waits upon the Princess Ladislas Galitzin enters the room.

"What is it?"

" A peddler, an old man armed with the passwords and countersign, desires to speak with your Excellency."

" Admit him."

The servitor retires, and a moment later, lifting the hangings, gives entrance to a bent figure carrying a pack. As soon as the servant has left them the peddler rises to his full height. With a gesture he flings off his disguise of hair and beard and stands before them a young giant.

" Alexis Alexandrovitch !"

" Ladislas Ladislaievitch !"

And the two men are locked in each other's arms.

Chapter III. The Arrest

" At last, after so many years, old friend !" It is the Prince Ladislas who speaks, holding the other by the hand. Then, turning to the woman whose frightened eyes are fixed upon the new-comer, he says, " Nadia, this is my old friend Alexis Alexandrovitch Dorski."

" I have heard much of you from my husband, Alexis Alexandrovitch," said she, raising her eyes once more to Dorski's, and addressing him in the familiar Russian fashion. " Welcome to our hiding-place and our home."

" No doubt you fear me, princess," returned Dorski ; " but your fears are groundless, believe me. No word or act of mine can implicate your husband. I sought this interview to tell you so."

" I pray that it be so," said the Princess Nadine.

" Well, and how goes the cause?" put in Ladislas Galitzin, cheerily.

" Bravely," replied the other, " both here and in the provinces. We have friends at court, high up, — very high, — in the Regiment of the Transfiguration, as in all three sections of the police. A few years, maybe, a few months, perhaps, and Russia shall be free. What Alexander the Second has done for us already he will do again. He

will add to his reforms, and Russia will be free. If not " And

his sentence closed with significant silence.

The princess turned a look of fear towards her husband.

" Have no fear, matiouehka" replied the latter, interpreting her look. u I am no conspirator. Alexis and I are friends, but no more. I am not one of his lieutenants. By St. Katerine !" continued he, with a laugh, " I care too little for it all to risk my neck. I am too much at peace with the world, too happy with you, sweetheart, to bear illwill towards any man, be he Tzar or moujilc. No, I was never made for a Terrorist. I left that all behind me when I left college; and when our secret society that was to do such wonders was broken up without my being implicated, why, I thought myself well out of it, and settled down as a respectable married man." And he laughed again carelessly as he threw himself on the divan beside his wife.

" Right !" exclaimed Dorski. " That is as it should be. Do not let us say anything more about it. See, I have brought you something." So saying, he drew from his pocket a little leather case. Opening it, he disclosed a portrait of himself set round with opals, which he handed to the princess.

" It is a little wedding-present, though it comes late for the wedding," said he. " But it may serve to impress upon your mind the features of a man who would willingly give up his liberty, and, if needs be, his life, for your husband."

" I thank you, Alexis Alexandrovitch," replied the woman. " I shall cherish your present. But why did you let them set opals round it? I think they will bring us misfortune. Am I not foolish?"

" Yes, indeed," cried Ladislas, " by all the saints, a most excellent portrait, old friend. It shall be one of our greatest treasures."

The three stood together looking at the miniature, when suddenly the stillness was broken by three heavy blows upon the outer door, and by a voice crying, in the silence of the night, —

" Open, in the name of His Majesty the Tzar !"

Every face became white as they exchanged glances; Ladislas hurriedly thrust the portrait into his pocket, and Dorski exclaimed, —

" Great heaven ! I am discovered ! And yet, — it is impossible. My presence is undreamt of. No matter ; hide me, — somewhere, — anywhere."

" Here, — here, — quick," whispered Prince Ladislas, pressing a spring in the frame of one of the large pictures. The picture swung out from the wall, disclosing an open space behind it, contrived in the building. " In here ; and do not utter a sound."

BELLA-DEMONIA .

" Do not betray my presence by word pr look," whispered Dorski, gathering up his pack and his disguise, and stepping into the recess. " I will not be taken alive."

Ladislas Galitzin hurriedly closed the picture, and took his place on the divan beside his wife, who was more dead than alive with terror. Meanwhile, the blows on the outer door and the summons were repeated.

" Open, in the name of His Majesty the Tzar !"

" Open the door !" cried Prince Galitzin, loud enough to be heard outside. "There is no reason why the inmates of this house should fear the mandates of our father the Tzar."

Footsteps sounded in the corridor, a clank as of arms was heard, and Dmitri Keratieff stepped into the room.

" What is the meaning of this?" demanded the prince, haughtily. " See, you have terrified my — my — mistress almost to death. We harbor no suspected persons here."

" My business is with you, Excellency."

" Indeed ! Name it."

" I hold a warrant for your arrest on a charge of treason against the sacred person of His Majesty."

" Of treason ! — I ? Monstrous ! Of what am I accused ?"

" Of complicity with the traitor Alexis Dorski."

" He is not here ! he is not here !" cried the princess, recovering consciousness in time to hear the police-officer's last words.

" I know it," replied the latter. " The police is well informed of his movements ; he is now in the Ukraine. The prince is arrested, however, on the evidence of a letter he has received from Dorski, and which is in the hands of the police."

"His letter !" exclaimed the prince. "How "

" Enough said," broke in the officer. " We cannot enter into explanations. Your Excellency will follow me?"

"Yes." Ladislas was about to follow him, when suddenly the portrait of Dorski flashed across his mind. Quick as thought his hand sought his pocket where it lay ; but the keen eye of the Chief of Police caught the action, and, supposing the prince to be in search of some weapon, he sprang upon him, crying out as he did so a word of command in Russian. Two soldiers entered the room. At a sign from Keratieff they seized the prince's arms. Then Keratieff, putting his hand into the prince's pocket, drew forth the miniature!

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "there needed but this. A portrait of the traitor himself carried on the prince's person. Come. Let us go."

" Send out your soldiers for a moment, Keratieff," said the prince. " I have something to say."

Keratieff gave the word, and the soldiers retired.

" Where am I to be taken ?" asked Prince Galitzin.

" To the Schlusselburg."

At the word the prince turned paler yet. Then, commanding himself, he said, —

" Keratieff, you and I know too well what this means. This lady is my wife : let me be alone with her for five minutes. You will not refuse me. I give you my word that I will await you here."

"So be it," returned the Chief of Police, softened in spite of himself as he took in the condition of affairs at a glance. " In five minutes I will return." And he left the husband and wife alone.

As soon as he was gone, Ladislas Galitzin flung himself by the side of his wife, and whispered eagerly in her ear :

" Nadia, — matiouchka, — look up, beloved. All may yet be well. They have no suspicion that he is here. When I am gone, aid him to escape. Tell him that this is Vyvian Fane's work : I insulted him in the Club to-night. If anything should befall me, bid him avenge me, and you. My poor darling, how can I leave you thus, now? Send at once for Carita. She will care for you till I am free, — and longer, if need shall be. Come, come, be brave. See ! I am not afraid !"

And so in agony he tried to soothe, to comfort the paralyzed woman. It seemed like an instant only when Keratieif appeared, pale and silent, at the door.

They went out together.

In the outer street a droschky awaited them, into which Keratieif stepped with his prisoner. The two soldiers followed on horseback as the party moved off in the night.

An hour later the same droschky drove away from the ferry landing of the Fortress of the Schlusselburg. As he made for his hovel by the Neva, the isvoshtshik said to himself, —

" So that was your business with the Gospodar Keratieff, son of a dog ! Ah ! scoundrel, ah ! filth, you would strike me with your cane, would you? We shall see; we shall see. The Terror is sometimes as powerful as the Secret Police !"

CHAPTEE IV.

A NIHILIST LEADER.

Meanwhile, as he heard the sound of the sleigh-bells vanish in the distance, Alexis Dorski, opening the picture-frame from the inside, stepped into the room in which the arrest had been made.

The Princess Galitzin was lying motionless upon the divan. Kneeling by her side, the Terrorist endeavored to rouse her.

" Princess," he whispered, " rouse yourself, I implore you. The night grows old, and I must away. Rouse yourself, and listen to me."

Raising herself as if with great difficulty, the eyes of the princess met those of the Nihilist. As they met, she shrank back with a start, exclaiming, —

" Leave me ! leave me ! I cannot bear to look at you ! It was for you they took him."

" Nay, Nadine Fedorovna, it was not for me. Some private revenge has been at work to-night, and — hear me — I swear by the Holy Saints and my devotion to the cause of Liberty that I will avenge your husband. Tell me, has he never mentioned any enemy by name?"

" Yes, yes : he bade me tell you ! It has been the work of the Englishman, Vyvian Fane. Swear — swear to me that if they kill Ladislas you will avenge him !"

" I swear it. If this charge is proven against this Vyvian Fane, should it be the work of my whole lifetime, I will punish him. I have sworn it!"

" Thank you, — thank you, Alexis Alexaudrovitch ! Ah ! but what agony !" And with a convulsive movement the woman buried her head in the cushions once more.

Alexis Dorski stood looking down at her. In an instant his keen instinct had taken in the gravity of her condition : he realized that if a triple murder were not to be the work of the night's arrest, aid must be summoned immediately. Bending over her prostrate form, he whispered, in a tone whose softness would have made his desperate followers marvel, —

"Tell me, Nadine Fedorovna, have you no friend that I can call, — no woman ?"

"Carita! Carita!" she moaned, between her clinched teeth.

Rising and hastily resuming his disguise, Dorski went out into the night.

ifc $1 $: Hi Ifc % %. %

Half an hour later the dvornik of the Galitzin Palace was roused by a knocking on his door.

"Dog of a reveller, what wantest thou at such a time?"

And there came back through the door the almost whispered words, —

" In the name of His Majesty and of the Third Section, a message for her Excellency the Princess Carita Alexandrovna."

Hastily tumbling out of his improvised bed, the dvornik opened the door. There stood on the threshold an old peddler.

" Deliver this to one of the princess's women at once. It must reach her hand immediately. You understand?"

" Yes, Excellency," replied the dvornik, accustomed to seeing the emissaries of the secret police in every form of disguise.

And half an hour later the troika of the Princess Galitzin swept out from under the gate-way and disappeared in the direction of the Neva.

It still wanted three hours of daylight, and the peddler, having delivered his summons at the Galitzin Palace, thought for an instant, and then stepped off at a brisk pace down the broad Prospect, towards the square of St. Katerine, where three or four droschkies stood, awaiting the chance of a night-customer.

As he passed the group of isvoshtshiks that stood smoking in a doorway he laid one hand upon his hip, the fingers pointing earthward, raising the other to his ear. As he did so he ejaculated the familiar greeting, —

" Zdrasteouitai" (" Good-night").

And one of the group answered with a guttural " Choroskho /" (" All right !")

The peddler pursued his way.

The moujik who had answered his salutation, after a moment's delay, bade his companions good-night, and, mounting the driving-seat of his droschky, started off in pursuit of the peddler. He passed him under a lamp, and as the peddler repeated the motion he had previously made, the moujik drew his horse towards the curb, and held out a hand palm upward, as if ascertaining whether it rained or not.