The Secret of the Night [128]
even of glazed glass and further blinded by the morning hoar-frost shutting out light more thoroughly than closed eyelids. Behind them he pictured to himself a world unknown, a world which neither spoke nor wept, nor laughed, a world in which no living chord resounded. "What a country! 'Where is the chateau? I do not know; I have been here only once, in the marshal's carriage. I do not know the way. Not the great palace! The idiot of a driver has brought me to this great palace in order to see it, I haven't a doubt. Does Rouletabille look like a tourist? Dourak! The home of the Tsar, I tell you. The Tsar's residence. The place where the Little Father lives. Chez Batouchka!"
The driver lashed his ponies. He drove past all the streets. "Stoi! (Stop!)" cried Rouletabille. A gate, a soldier, musket at shoulder, bayonet in play; another gate, another soldier, another bayonet; a park with walls around it, and around the walls more soldiers.
"No mistake; here is the place," thought Rouletabille. There was only one prisoner for whom such pains would be taken. He advanced towards the gate. Ah! They crossed bayonets under his nose. Halt! No fooling, Joseph Rouletabille, of "L'Epoque. "A subaltern came from a guard-house and advanced toward him. Explanation evidently was going to be difficult. The young man saw that if he demanded to see the Tsar, they would think him crazed and that would further complicate matters. He asked for the Grand-Marshal of the Court. They replied that he could get the Marshal's address in Tsarskoie. But the subaltern turned his head. He saw someone ad'vancing. It was the Grand-Marshal himself. Some exceptional service called him, without doubt, very early to the Court.
"Why, what are you doing here? You are not yet gone then, Monsieur Roidetabille?"
"Politeness before everything, Monsieur le Grand-Marechal! I would not go before saying 'Au revoir' to the Emperor. Be so good, since you are going to him and he has risen (you yourself have told me he rises at seven), be so good as to say to him that I wish to pay my respects before leaving."
"Your scheme, doubtless, is to speak to him once more regarding Natacha Feodorovna?"
"Not at all. Tell him, Excellency, that I am come to explain the mystery of the eider downs."
"Ah, ah, the eider downs! You know something?"
"I know all."
The Grand Marshal saw that the young man did not pretend. He asked him to wait a few minutes, and vanished into the park.
A quarter of an hour later, Joseph Rouletabille, of the journal "L'Epoque," was admitted into the cabinet that he knew well from the first interview he had had there with His Majesty. The simple work-room of a country-house: a few pictures on the walls, portraits of the Tsarina and the imperial children on the table; Oriental cigarettes in the tiny gold cups. Rouletabille was far from feeling any assurance, for the Grand-Marshal had said to him:
"Be cautious. The Emperor is in a terrible humor about you."
A door opened and closed. The Tsar made a sign to the Marshal, who disappeared. Rouletabille bowed low, then watched the Emperor closely.
Quite apparently His Majesty was displeased. The face of the Tsar, ordinarily so calm, so pleasant, and smiling, was severe, and his eyes had an angry light. He seated himself and lighted a cigarette.
"Monsieur," he commenced, "I am not otherwise sorry to see you before your departure in order to say to you myself that I am not at all pleased with you. If you were one of my subjects I would have already started you on the road to the Ural Mountains."
"I remove myself farther, Sire."
"Monsieur, I pray you not to interrupt me and not to speak unless I ask you a question."
"Oh, pardon, Sire, pardon."
"I am not duped by the pretext you have offered Monsieur le Grand-Marechal in order to penetrate here."
"It is not a pretext, Sire."
"Again!"
"Oh, pardon, Sire, pardon."
"I say to you that, called here to aid me against my enemies, they themselves have not found a stronger or more
The driver lashed his ponies. He drove past all the streets. "Stoi! (Stop!)" cried Rouletabille. A gate, a soldier, musket at shoulder, bayonet in play; another gate, another soldier, another bayonet; a park with walls around it, and around the walls more soldiers.
"No mistake; here is the place," thought Rouletabille. There was only one prisoner for whom such pains would be taken. He advanced towards the gate. Ah! They crossed bayonets under his nose. Halt! No fooling, Joseph Rouletabille, of "L'Epoque. "A subaltern came from a guard-house and advanced toward him. Explanation evidently was going to be difficult. The young man saw that if he demanded to see the Tsar, they would think him crazed and that would further complicate matters. He asked for the Grand-Marshal of the Court. They replied that he could get the Marshal's address in Tsarskoie. But the subaltern turned his head. He saw someone ad'vancing. It was the Grand-Marshal himself. Some exceptional service called him, without doubt, very early to the Court.
"Why, what are you doing here? You are not yet gone then, Monsieur Roidetabille?"
"Politeness before everything, Monsieur le Grand-Marechal! I would not go before saying 'Au revoir' to the Emperor. Be so good, since you are going to him and he has risen (you yourself have told me he rises at seven), be so good as to say to him that I wish to pay my respects before leaving."
"Your scheme, doubtless, is to speak to him once more regarding Natacha Feodorovna?"
"Not at all. Tell him, Excellency, that I am come to explain the mystery of the eider downs."
"Ah, ah, the eider downs! You know something?"
"I know all."
The Grand Marshal saw that the young man did not pretend. He asked him to wait a few minutes, and vanished into the park.
A quarter of an hour later, Joseph Rouletabille, of the journal "L'Epoque," was admitted into the cabinet that he knew well from the first interview he had had there with His Majesty. The simple work-room of a country-house: a few pictures on the walls, portraits of the Tsarina and the imperial children on the table; Oriental cigarettes in the tiny gold cups. Rouletabille was far from feeling any assurance, for the Grand-Marshal had said to him:
"Be cautious. The Emperor is in a terrible humor about you."
A door opened and closed. The Tsar made a sign to the Marshal, who disappeared. Rouletabille bowed low, then watched the Emperor closely.
Quite apparently His Majesty was displeased. The face of the Tsar, ordinarily so calm, so pleasant, and smiling, was severe, and his eyes had an angry light. He seated himself and lighted a cigarette.
"Monsieur," he commenced, "I am not otherwise sorry to see you before your departure in order to say to you myself that I am not at all pleased with you. If you were one of my subjects I would have already started you on the road to the Ural Mountains."
"I remove myself farther, Sire."
"Monsieur, I pray you not to interrupt me and not to speak unless I ask you a question."
"Oh, pardon, Sire, pardon."
"I am not duped by the pretext you have offered Monsieur le Grand-Marechal in order to penetrate here."
"It is not a pretext, Sire."
"Again!"
"Oh, pardon, Sire, pardon."
"I say to you that, called here to aid me against my enemies, they themselves have not found a stronger or more