dwarf, they often met again at the same rendezvous. Occasionally they met in society, but before others they were obliged to appear constrained and formal; there was little pleasure in such meetings, and when O’Donahue could not see the princess his chief pleasure was to call upon Madame Erhausen and talk about her.
“You are aware, Captain O’Donahue,” said the countess one day, “that there will be a great difficulty to overcome in this affair. The princess is a sort of ward of the emperor’s, and it is said that he has already, in his own mind, disposed of her hand.”
“I am aware of that,” replied O’Donahue; “and I know no other means than running away with her.”
“That would never do,” replied the countess; “you could not leave Petersburg without passports; nor could she leave the palace for more than an hour or two without being missed. You would soon be discovered, and then you would lose her for ever.”
“Then what can I do, my dear madame? Shall I throw myself upon the indulgence of the emperor?”
“No, that would not answer either; she is too rich a prize to be permitted to go into foreign hands. I’ll tell you what you must first do.”
“I’m all attention.”
“You must make love to me,” replied the countess. “Nay, understand me. I mean that you must appear to make love to me, and the report of our marriage must be spread. The emperor will not interfere in such a case; you must do so to avoid suspicion. You have been here very often, and your equipage has been constantly seen at the door. If it is supposed you do not come on my account, it will be inquired why you do come; and there is no keeping a secret at Petersburg. After it is supposed that it is a settled affair between us, we then may consider what next ought to be done. My regard for my cousin alone induces me to consent to this; indeed, it is the only way she could avoid future misery.”
“But is the emperor so despotic on these points?”
“An emperor is not to be trifled with; a ward of the emperor is considered sacred—at least, so far, that if a Russian were to wed one without permission, he probably would be sent to Siberia. With an Englishman it is different, perhaps; and, once married, you would be safe, as you could claim the protection of your ambassador. The great point is, to let it be supposed that you are about to marry some one else; and then, suspicion not being awakened, you may gain your wish.”
“But tell me, madame,—that I may be safe from the emperor’s displeasure is true—but would the princess, after he discovered it? Could he not take her away from me, and send her to Siberia for disobedience?”
“I hope, by the means I propose, to get you both clear of the emperor—at least, till his displeasure is softened down. Me he cannot hurt; he can only order me out of his dominions. As for the princess, I should think that, if once married to you, she would be safe, for you could claim the protection of the ambassador for her, as your wife, as well as for yourself. Do you comprehend me now?”
“I do, madame; and may blessings follow you for your kindness. I shall in future act but by your directions?”
“That is exactly what I wished you to say; and so now, Captain O’Donahue, farewell.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Well, now,” said McShane, after he had been informed by O’Donahue of what had passed between him and the countess,—“this is all very pretty, and looks very well; but tell me, are we to trust that fellow Dimitri? Can we do without him? I should say not when it comes to the finale; and is it not dangerous to keep him out of our confidence, being such a sharp, keen-witted fellow? Nay, more, as he has stated his wish to serve you in any way, it is only treating him fairly. He knows the little dwarf who has been here so often; indeed, they were fellow-servants in the Czartorinski family, for he told me so. I would trust him.”
“I think so, too; but we must not tell him all.”
“No, that we certainly need not, for he will find it out without telling.”
“Well, McShane, do as you please; but on second thoughts, I will speak to the countess to-morrow.”
O’Donahue did so, the countess called upon the princess at the palace, and the next morning O’Donahue received a note stating that Dimitri was to be trusted. O’Donahue then sent for the courier, and told him that he was about to put confidence in him on a promise of his fidelity.
“I understand you, sir, and all you intend to do; there is no occasion to say anything more to me, until you want my assistance. I will not, in the meantime, neglect your interest, for I hope to remain with you, and that is the only reward I ask for any services I may perform. I have only one remark to make now, which is, that it will be necessary, a few days before you leave Petersburg, to let me know, that I may advertise it.”
“Advertise it!”
“Yes, sir, you must advertise your departure, that you may not run away in debt. Such is the custom; and without three notices being put in the Gazette, the police will not give you your passport.”
“I am glad that you mentioned it. Of course you are aware that I am paying attention to the Countess Erhausen, and shall leave Petersburg with her, I trust, as my wife?”
“I understand sir, and shall take care that your intimacy there shall be known to everybody.”
So saying, Dimitri left the room.
The winter now set in with unusual severity. The river was one mass of ice, the floating bridges had been removed, the Montagnes-Russes became the amusement of the day, and the sledges were galloping about in every direction. For more than a month O’Donahue continued his pretended addresses to the fair cousin of the princess, and during that time he did not once see the real object of his attachment: indeed, the dwarf never made his appearance, and all communication, except an occasional note from her to the countess, was, from prudence, given up. The widow was rich, and had often been pressed to renew her bonds, but had preferred her liberty. O’Donahue, therefore, was looked upon as a fortunate man, and congratulated upon his success. Nor did the widow deny the projected union, except in a manner so as to induce people to believe in the certainty of its being arranged. O’Donahue’s equipage was always at her door, and it was expected that the marriage would immediately take place, when O’Donahue attended a levee given by the emperor on the Feast of Saint Nicholas. The emperor, who had been very civil to O’Donahue, as he walked past him, said, “Well, Captain O’Donahue, so I understand that you intend to run away with one of our fairest and prettiest ladies—one of the greatest ornaments of my court?”
“I trust that I have your Majesty’s permission so to do,” replied O’Donahue, bowing low.
“Oh, certainly you have; and, moreover, our best wishes for your happiness.”
“I humbly thank your Majesty,” replied O’Donahue; “still I trust your Majesty does not think that I wish to transplant her to my own country altogether, and that I shall be permitted to reside, for the major part of the year, in your Majesty’s dominions.”
“Nothing will give me greater pleasure; and it will be a satisfaction to feel that I shall gain instead of losing by the intended marriage.”
“By the powers! but I will remind him of this, some day or another,” thought O’Donahue. “Haven’t I his permission to the marriage, and to remain in the country?”
Everything was now ripe
