Chapter VI: Part 6

He spoke proudly and dauntlessly, and, having uttered these sentiments, was about to quit the assembly, when several of the conspirators gathered round him, endeavouring to calm his agitation and anger; while others regarded him with stern and lowering glances, ready to sacrifice him to their vengeance, should he shew the least sign of betraying them.

Though some manifested a slight opposition to his leaving the meeting, he was nevertheless allowed to depart, by his more intimate acquaintance undertaking to answer for his fidelity.

Hot and eager discussions then arose, and many loudly stigmatised the vile proposition which had been made; though some still adhered to their opinion, that they were justified in any deed that would forward the great end. The debate had increased in warmth, until the conspirators formed themselves into distinct parties, when a person rushed into the assembly, consternation and dismay marked on his countenance.

"My friends," he cried, "I have just made a discovery which places us all in imminent danger; for instead of Ivan Galetzoff, who was supposed to have been murdered, I find that it was the young Count Flatoff, who fell a victim to the dagger of an assassin, having in his possession the important dispatches for St. Petersburg, which he had undertaken to convey thither. Nothing was found about his person, when his corpse was discovered, so that there is every probability that the murderer has possessed himself of the documents. Some of the Count's friends here have been making inquiries for him, on finding that he had not set off, and it was thus I first suspected that he was the person found murdered. We are, therefore, completely in the power of whoever possesses those papers, for even the assassin himself would obtain pardon for the deed from the government, in return for the valuable information he can give."

This announcement caused deep alarm among the conspirators, who immediately broke off their debate, to prepare for departure and separation. But what was their dismay, when on emerging from the garden, they found every avenue occupied by officers of police, and one by one as the foremost appeared, were made prisoners. The rest, seeing the fate of their friends, formed into a body, and made a desperate effort to cut their way through the guards; some succeeding; but by far the greater number fell into the hands of their enemies. Those who got off fled in all directions, pursued by the police, but very few escaped.

Volume 1, Chapter XIV.

The young Pole, Thaddeus Stanisloff, had been appointed to a regiment, destined to proceed with many others to join the army in the Caucasus, now quartered in Moscow on its way to the south. On the same day, that Ivan had been driven from the chateau of the Baron Galetzoff, he left his home to join his regiment; taking a farewell, which he felt might too probably be the last, of his broken-hearted father, now rapidly drawing towards his end, worn out by grief and sickness. He received also the warm and cordial adieus of his generous and high-minded host.

Thaddeus, naturally light-hearted and gay, by the time he reached Moscow, had forgotten the sorrow of parting, and was looking forward to the pleasure of again meeting his friend Ivan, as, soon after dusk, he rode through the streets towards the hotel where he expected to find him; but was disappointed on hearing that he had already gone out. He immediately set forth on foot by himself, in hopes of finding him at some of their usual places of resort, when, soon after leaving the hotel, the light of a torch falling strongly on his features, a small and feminine figure, who was about to pass on, stopped to look attentively at his face, and then addressed him in a timid and agitated manner. As she looked up to speak, the veil which had before concealed her face dropt on one side, and discovered the features of the Gipsy girl Azila.

"I meet you most fortunately," she said, "for you may be able to give assistance, where it will be much required. Are you ready to meet a great danger to assist a friend?"

"I should be unworthy to be called a friend, by any whom I should hesitate to aid, whatever the risk to myself," answered Thaddeus. "But of whom do you speak?"

"Of your friend, Ivan Galetzoff! I have this moment been to his hotel, in the hope of warning him of an impending danger, with which I have but just become acquainted. I could not trust any other with such a communication to him; he has already gone out, and although I am too late to prevent him from encountering danger, I may yet be able to rescue him with your assistance."

"That, I will gladly give at every risk," answered Thaddeus. "But how am I to find him? Where is he, that I may hasten to his aid?"

"That, I may not tell you," answered Azila; "but trust wholly in me, and I will place you where you may be ready to lend your assistance, if required."

"I will trust entirely to your guidance," said Thaddeus.

"I knew that you were too noble to hesitate," rejoined Azila, in a deep tone of gratitude. "Let us then waste no more time here."

"Lead the way, fair lady, and I will follow," said Thaddeus.

"Have you your weapons?" she asked, "for they may be needed."

"Yes, I carry my sword under my cloak."

"That is well," said Azila; "and now, Sir, follow me closely, and promptly, or we may be too late."

Azila, looking back for an instant, to see that Thaddeus followed, then advanced at so rapid a pace, threading her way through the intricate streets, that he could scarcely keep up without running. She crossed the river by one of the bridges, and passed through several desolate streets, where many of the houses had not yet been raised from their ashes, hurrying on, till she arrived beneath the dark shadow of a broad archway, and then paused.

Here she spoke to her companion, in a low earnest whisper: "I cannot lead you further, but you must consent to remain here patiently, till your assistance be called for, or until I return; as I now must hasten to summon one of my tribe, who are in the neighbourhood, to aid in your friend's escape. Wrap yourself closely in your cloak, and remain concealed within this arch; keep your sword drawn for a sudden rescue, for I have reason to suppose that your friend will be set upon by assassins, as he passes near this spot. At all events, be cautious and on the alert."

Gliding away noiselessly from the spot, she then left Thaddeus, who forthwith retired into the darkest corner, effectually concealed from any passer by, beneath the buttresses of the arch. He did not exactly comprehend by what means his friend had exposed himself to the danger, but it was sufficient for him to know that his aid was required, no matter at what risk to himself; and he determined to abide the result, whatever it might be.

He was doomed to keep a long watch; straining his eyes in endeavouring to pierce through the gloom, and intently listening, to catch the sound of any approaching footstep; when suddenly he heard the sound of voices in muttered conference, apparently approaching the spot where he stood concealed.

The arch, in which Azila had placed Thaddeus, was not the same in which Groff had concealed himself, ere he perpetrated the murder of the young Count Flatoff, but at a short distance from it. The former would not have answered the assassin's purpose, being too far removed from the lane Ivan usually passed by. This will account for Thaddeus now remaining undisturbed in his concealment.

"Halt here, Kruntz," said one voice; "this is the spot, I know it well, where I have seen this cursed youth pass so often, and I recommended our noble master to wait here for him. Something has enraged the Count more than ever against him, and he vows that he will not be content, until he has passed his own sword through him. He'll make sure of him, I warrant."

"More sure work than you did the other night, Groff," said Kruntz.

"What mean you?" replied Groff; "what work do you speak of?"

"What mean I! why the murder of Count Flatoff! Tush, tush! comrade, think not to hide that from me, or fear that I would betray you. I suspected that you had been about some dirty work, when you came in, and I was not long in discovering the truth."

"If you know it, what's the use of speaking about it," hoarsely muttered Groff. "I'll not make a mistake again, trust me. We will have our revenge this time, and gain a reward. A pretty work the youth has given us, what with watching and hunting him about so long."

"We ought to know each other by this time, Groff, and need keep no little secrets of this sort from one another: so, no fear of my betraying you. But say, how did you manage to find out that young Galetzoff is likely to pass this way?"

"Why, the Count set me to watch all his haunts; and several times I followed him in this direction, when I suddenly lost sight of him among the garden walls; but after waiting here, I found that he again passed by, and each night he has done the same. I felt certain that it was he, when I made the mistake the other night; but I will not fail a second time, trust me; and I know that he will come, for I am sure it was he, we saw pass at dusk. Ah! what is that object on the ground, Kruntz? see, it moves! It is too horrid to look at!" cried Groff, in a hollow, husky voice. "I see its mangled features. Do you believe in ghosts, Kruntz?"

"Ghosts--no!" answered Kruntz, jeeringly; "I never saw one yet. Why, what's the matter, man? you are not wont to tremble. Rouse yourself, Groff: be a man. Why, what is there to care for, if you did put a wrong man out of the way; you are not the first who has done so."

"It is well for you to laugh, Kruntz, who have no feelings; but if you had seen the horrible sight that appeared to me just now, you would have trembled."

"Nonsense, man," said his companion, "it was all your fancy; and now get rid of such ideas, for here comes some one. Be prepared!"

Thaddeus heard nearly every word of this conversation; and becoming much alarmed for the safety of his friend, stood ready to rush out to his assistance, for he fancied that through the gloom he saw him approaching.

As the footsteps drew near, the voice of the Count Erintoff was heard: "Hist, hist! what, knaves, are you there? Kruntz, Groff, answer!"

The men who had been concealed by the arch, stepped forward as they heard their master's voice.

"Has the person I told you to watch for appeared, or have you again let him escape you, villains?"

"No, Count," answered Kruntz: "no fear of that. I owe him a broken head, and I don't forget my debts. I should like to catch his friend, the other young fellow; I would pay him off all old scores."

"Hush, knaves!" said the Count. "Listen, some one approaches: be prepared to rush out. It is he!"

A footstep was heard. Thaddeus grasped his sword more firmly--his heart beat high, as he stood ready to spring from his hiding-place. The person had reached the spot. It was Ivan; for the Count and his servants sprung out upon him, and attacked him furiously.

"Yield; you are my prisoner!" exclaimed the Count, making a pass with his sword at Ivan's breast, though, fortunately, not so rapidly but that he had time to spring aside, and draw his own weapon, with which he had provided himself since Azila's warning; this enabled him to parry a second thrust made at him.

"Rescue! Ivan! here's rescue, my friend!" cried Thaddeus, darting forward, most unexpectedly, and beating down the swords of the two servants, who attempted to oppose him. "What means this assassin-like attack?"

He was met by Groff and Kruntz, who had recovered from their surprise in a moment, and now turned upon him with their whole united strength, while their master pressed Ivan hard.

"Yield!" again exclaimed the Count, "you are a traitor to Russia, and have joined in a dark conspiracy against her laws."

These words urged Ivan to defend himself with greater determination; and returning the Count's attack with the utmost vigour, the latter would have fallen a victim to his own nefarious plot, had he not called Kruntz to his aid.

Left to engage Thaddeus single-handed, Groff now attacked him with such blind fury, that he left his own person exposed; while his opponent, anxious to lend his aid to Ivan, who was now so unequally beset, did his utmost to disarm him. Failing in this attempt, he made a lunge to terminate the contest, and his sword passed through the body of his adversary, who fell, with scarcely a groan, to the earth. In the meantime, Ivan had defended himself successfully from his determined assailants; but just as his friend turned to his aid, his foot slipped, and the Count observing the movement, passed his sword through his side. Thaddeus soon succeeded in disarming Kruntz, whirling his sword, by superior fence, out of his hand, and over the adjoining wall, when the ruffian, instead of assisting his master, turned and fled. Before the latter had time to follow up his advantage, by a second and more effectual wound on Ivan, he was vigorously assailed by Thaddeus, who, pressing him back to relieve his friend, disarmed him likewise; but, retreating behind a projecting buttress, the Count baffled his pursuing adversary, and being well acquainted with the different intricate windings, he succeeded in effecting his escape.

Retracing his steps, Thaddeus rejoined his friend, at the moment when the latter, returning to consciousness from the effects of his hurt, attempted to raise himself from the earth. Bending down by his side, he proceeded to bind up his wound, and as Ivan recognised him, he exclaimed:

"Fly, Thaddeus, fly! for treachery and danger surround us: there is not a moment for explanations; but I beseech you to fly instantly, or you will be involved in my ruin."

"Never could I leave you thus," replied Thaddeus. "Lean on me for support, and perhaps we may yet have time to escape."

"Thanks for your generous aid," said Ivan; "but I fear escape is impossible; I feel too much hurt to walk, and you would inevitably be overtaken: for be assured, that the Count has but retreated to call the police, without whose aid he first trusted to satiate his revenge. I know too well, by the words he uttered, that I am completely in his power, through secret information he has gained."

At that moment, a light footstep was heard approaching, and a female form appeared, whom Thaddeus recognised as Azila.

A cry escaped her as she beheld Ivan hurt and on the ground; when, throwing herself beside him, she assisted Thaddeus in supporting his wounded friend.

"Alas!" she cried, "unhappy I am that I should have arrived too late to prevent this calamity; but I have friends on their way who may still be of service."

"Thanks, fair girl," said Ivan, raising himself with their assistance, "I will exert myself; but first, persuade my friend to save himself by flight, for his stay here can but subject him to great peril, without affording me further aid."

"He speaks but too truly," said Azila, turning to Thaddeus. "It were, indeed, madness to remain, and so offer another sacrifice to the Count's revenge; for believe me, your friend has been betrayed by that dastard, Count Erintoff, and has incurred the rigour of the most tyrannical laws. Fly, therefore, while you have time, before the police are upon us, when your uniform alone would betray you; fear not for your friend, his safety will be cared for."

Thaddeus still refused to desert his friend, in spite of the latter's persuasions; when, as she spoke, lights were seen to glimmer in the distance.

"Fly, fly, Thaddeus! my dear friend!" cried Ivan: "see, the police are approaching, and you will but involve yourself in my misfortunes. And you, lady, leave me to my fate; your safety is also perilled if you are discovered."

"I will not quit you, Sir; I have nothing to fear," answered Azila. "Ah!" she exclaimed, "the Great Spirit is merciful!" as, at that moment, two dark forms emerged from the opposite direction to that in which the lights had appeared, and towards which she had constantly been directing an inquiring glance. "These are my friends, and may yet be in time to save you."

Two men then approached, to whom she spoke in her own language, and instantly they raised Ivan gently from the ground, and bore him rapidly in the direction whence they had come.

Azila led the way in silence. Thaddeus followed, and he was happy to find that their distance, from the lights carried by the police, evidently increased.

The fugitives continued their way for some time, along the dark and narrow lanes, amid the ruined buildings we have already described, and with which Azila seemed perfectly acquainted; never for a moment hesitating which path to take, among the numerous turnings. They at length paused in front of a huge pile of buildings equally dilapidated, looming still larger and darker in the gloom through which they were seen. Their guide passing beneath a low covered way, followed by the rest of the party, struck a sharp blow on a small door, scarcely distinguishable from the masonry which surrounded it. It was opened without a moment's delay; the party entered, and after descending a few steps, Thaddeus found himself in a small vaulted chamber.

The door was carefully closed behind them, and a decrepit old man made his appearance, bearing a lamp in his hand, with which he scrutinised each individual on entering. The two athletic gipsies now placed their wounded burthen on a low pallet which stood at one end of the vault, when Azila thus addressed the old man:

"Father! I am come to entreat your succour for one in distress, who has escaped from the police now in full search of him. While here, he would, you know, be in safety."

"Daughter," answered the old man, "I would refuse you nothing. I will do my utmost for the youth's safety; but who is this other? An officer too! what does he here?"

"He is a friend of the Wounded man, and would not quit him, though at great danger to himself," answered Azila. "Ere the morn dawns, he must be from hence. But now that you have granted us your hospitality, father, we must attend to your wounded guest."

It was indeed time, as from the exertion Ivan had undergone, his wound bled afresh; the old man, however, produced salves and linen to apply to it; but his hands trembled with the feebleness of age as he performed the operation, assisted by Thaddeus.

"Ay, ay, I have bound up many wounds in my day, and thought to have long ago departed for that place where there will be none to cure. God's will be done!"

Ivan had just strength to express his thanks, and fell back exhausted. In the mean time, Azila had dispatched the two men to watch the direction taken by the police, and to bring back word, as soon as it would be safe for Thaddeus to venture on his return to the city. She then took her seat by the side of Ivan's humble couch, watching each movement of his pallid face, while Thaddeus was seated opposite, and their old host busied himself in producing various articles of refreshment, including a flask of wine; a small quantity of which considerably revived Ivan. The old man kept moving about, and muttering to himself, but bestowing few words on the strangers.

After a considerable time, the scouts came back to report that the road was clear; the police having returned to their posts in despair that their prey had escaped.

"It is now time for you to depart, Sir," said Azila, addressing Thaddeus, "for longer delay here would be hazardous, while your friend, trust me, will be carefully attended to. One of these men will be your guide, till you reach a part of the city known to you."

As at these words Thaddeus rose to depart, Ivan exclaimed:

"Adieu, my generous friend! I know not when we may next meet, for all around me looks dark, and lowering; but something within tells me, that I shall yet surmount all difficulties. Our courses, I fear, however, must be widely different; yours is clear before you, though I sincerely wish that you would follow mine. You shake your head. Well, well, I cannot now urge you to do as I wish; but I will take care to apprise you of my movements, and perchance we may some day again meet in happier circumstances."

After expressing his thanks to Azila, Thaddeus followed one of the Gipsies, who conducted him at a rapid place, till they arrived at a part of the city with which he was familiar; when the man pointing to the direction he was to take, disappeared without waiting for an answer; and the young Pole soon after reached his lodgings in safety.

Volume 1, Chapter XV.

A gentle and refreshing slumber stole over Ivan's senses, banishing from his mind all remembrance of the cares and dangers surrounding him, as he lay on his couch, watched over by the vigilant care of Azila.

He had been undisturbed in his place of refuge for several hours, when he suddenly started in his sleep, aroused by a singular and hurried knocking at the door. Azila hastened towards it, as the old man, slowly rising from his seat, had begun, with muttered grumblings, to undo the fastenings.

"In mercy, father, let him not in," said Azila, "whoever it may be! He may bring ruin on your guest. Oh! bid him seek shelter, or whatever he may want, elsewhere."

"Ay, that I would, with a pestilence on mankind, who are for ever worrying me," muttered the old man; "but my oath--my oath compels me. I may refuse admittance to none who make the sign."

Again the knocking was repeated, as the old man, having finished his task of unbarring, opened the door, and a man pale as death, his dress torn and disordered, sword in hand, rushed into the vault.

"Hide me--hide me, father!" he exclaimed. "All is lost; many are taken, some slain, and all dispersed; and even now the police are in pursuit of me."

The old man peered into the face of the new comer to identify him, and as if to ask for an explanation of what had happened; while the stranger, on his part, looked with surprise at seeing Azila and Ivan already occupants of the vault. He was, however, recognised as one of the conspirators, as he threw himself exhausted on a stone bench.

"What means this agitation?" said Ivan, as the person recognised him; "what means this alarm? for I scarcely heard the words you spoke as you entered."

"Alas!" answered the conspirator, "our noble enterprise has been discovered before all was fully prepared, and is now utterly and for ever overthrown. No sooner had the meeting broke up, than, as we were separating, we found the police gathering in strong force round all the entrances to the garden. No time was to be lost, many of our friends had already been seized, when I, with others, made a desperate rush through one of the avenues, less strongly guarded than the others; some of us escaping, favoured by the darkness, and our knowledge of the situation; and fear giving swiftness to my feet, I distanced all pursuers, and hastened hither. Yet, at one time, I heard my enemies following close behind me; but they lost sight of me among the lanes which lead to this spot. Had the assembly broken up sooner, we should have escaped for this night, as the police had but just begun to arrive at the place, to which some of the party must have been traced by spies, or some foul treachery has been at work. I had a narrow escape; but I had no fear when once I got outside, for I knew that you, father, would shelter me."

"Ay, ay," muttered the old man, "at the risk of suffering the knout again, and being sent back in chains to Siberia, if they discovered who I was. I have had enough of that already; but fear not, I will not betray you, and it will be long before the knaves find out my den; or should the worst happen, here is a place they would find it difficult to discover:--therefore, should the police come here, you must conceal yourself within."

At those words, he removed what appeared a large ill-shapen slab, or rather block of stone, in the wall, but which turned on well-made hinges, and disclosed within, a recess or small chamber ventilated by an aperture in the roof. It had evidently been formed with great labour and perseverance for the purpose it was now to be put to, and was capable of containing three or more persons without inconvenience.

"If the police discover us here, your wounded friend must also take refuge within this place; and they will have more wit than I give them credit for, if they espy him. Hark! I hear footsteps; surely none can have betrayed me. If so, all is lost."

Scarcely were the words uttered, than a thundering attack of blows was heard at the door, and a voice loudly demanding admittance in the name of the Emperor. The conspirator turned pale with terror, and rushed towards the entrance of the concealed chamber.

"Stay," said Azila, "would you leave your wounded comrade to perish, while you secure your own retreat? First place him in safety, and all will be well; fear not, for I will soon manage to get rid of our unwelcome visitors."

Ivan thanked her with a look of gratitude, as the conspirator, following her directions, with the feeble aid of the old man, lifted him through the narrow aperture, and laid him on some straw hastily thrown together; when Azila, carefully closing the entrance, prepared to receive the emissaries of justice. She threw a cloak over her head and shoulders, so as completely to cover her form and features, busying herself over the fire, as if watching some culinary operation, while the old man employed himself in slowing unbarring the door, muttering and growling as if just aroused from sleep.

A second and more impatient summons made him hasten to withdraw the bolts, when the door flew open, almost knocking him down, and a party of the police rushed into the vault, but started back confounded, on beholding who were its sole occupants.

Azila's watchful eye marked the servant of Count Erintoff--the ruffian Kruntz, among the party.

"Well, I could have sworn," said the man; "that I saw some person enter here not a quarter of an hour ago; and I know that he could not have again escaped without my seeing him."

"This is strange," said the leader of the police, "we must question the old man, if he has sense enough to understand us. Here, old man! has any one lately left this mansion of yours?"

"Few come to visit one overcome with age and infirmities, who dwells in a dark vault where the light of day scarcely enters," said the hermit; "no, no! they leave me alone to die in peace and quiet, it is all I require. What is it that you desire of me, gentlemen? can I do aught to serve you? I have, indeed, little to offer!"

"Cease your prating, old man!" said the officer, "and listen to what I say. A foul plot has just been discovered, and some of the conspirators have taken refuge in this neighbourhood. Now harken! I am not to be trifled with: you, old man, know somewhat of them."

"Woe is the day, that such things should be!" cried the old man. "Look around--see! none are here; there must be some mistake."

"We shall prove it," exclaimed the police officer, who, exasperated at the chance of his prey escaping him, produced a thick leathern thong, with which he struck the aged hermit a violent blow across the shoulders; "this will refresh your wits and ideas perchance. Say! can'st thou now remember, old knave; or must another blow yet revive you?"

"I cannot speak more than the truth," said the old man, meekly, and bowing before the petty tyrant, too well accustomed to such deeds. "Your stripes can draw no more than the truth from me, I know not of whom you speak."

"Is it so!" cried the officer, now growing furious at his disappointment, and having strong suspicions that he had, in some way, been deceived. "We shall see what efficacy there is in leather to draw the truth from you," aiming at the same time several more blows at the old man, which made him shrink down cowering before the barbarian, though he uttered no words of complaint, nor could the slightest information be elicited from him.

Since the entrance of the myrmidons of police, Azila had kept her seat apparently unnoticed, bending down her head before the fire, her cloak concealing her features so effectually that none could know them; at the same time keeping a watchful eye on those whose presence caused such risk to Ivan's safety; hoping that a woman's wit, in case of necessity, would lead them astray. She now, however, could no longer contain her indignation at the cowardly assault by the police officer on the defenceless and decrepit old man, for, suddenly rising from her seat, she boldly confronted the tyrant.

Drawing herself up to her full height, and assuming a look of proud disdain, she thus addressed the brutal ruffian:

"Dastardly tyrant, can you not find some nobler object to vent your unjust rage upon, and to display your power, than yonder decrepit old man? Perchance you may deem a weak and helpless woman a fitter subject for the exercise of your proud prerogative, if so--strike! fear not! I can bear as much as that infirm old man--perchance more. What! are you afraid? Then order some of your myrmidons to begin the attack; do they also lack courage? Oh! most brave and noble band to fear an old man, and young woman! Go your way then, if you have no better errand--or search here first, for what you want!"

The rough natures of the men were awed by the majestic air, and authoritative manner of Azila, for they drew back to the entrance of the cavern; while their leader foamed with rage at finding himself baffled by a young girl; but he meditated revenge.

Azila had shewn much tact in drawing off the officer's anger from the old man to herself, and then working him into a fury, and increasing it so as to confuse his faculties, and prevent him from making a stricter search, when the retreat of the two conspirators might by chance have been discovered. Her plan had well nigh succeeded, and the officer was preparing to depart, when something seemed to strike him as left undone, and turning to the old man, he seized him roughly by the shoulder demanding his name; the latter hesitating to give this at once, brought upon himself a fresh shower of blows.

"Stay--stay your hand!" cried he, "do you demand my name? alas! my memory is so bad that I can scarcely remember it; but I am called Orenoff, and I live here on the charity which a few people, whose hearts are not yet turned to stone, bestow on me. My heart has undergone a like fate, else I could not bear your treatment."

While the old man was babbling away in this strain, the officer made notes on paper, and presently turning to Azila, said:

"Now, Madam, you must give me some account of yourself, or else prepare to follow me. What do you here?"

"I answer your questions," replied Azila, "because forsooth, it pleases me to do so. I came then to attend yonder weak, sick old man, and to bring him food and medicine, for he has none other to attend him."

"Whence do you come, then?" demanded the officer.

"From a noble and charitable lady," said Azila; "and perchance it may occur to your wisdom, that it was my cloak, which was seen entering the vault, and which your spies took for one of the conspirators!"

"If you can give no better account of yourself than this, you must accompany me forthwith," said the officer.

"But, should it not be my pleasure to leave, you may experience some difficulty in compelling me," replied Azila.

The officer smiled grimly, and was stepping forward to seize her slight figure, which could indeed have offered but a slight resistance to his grasp, when she exclaimed:

"Stand aside, and touch me at your peril!" producing at the same time a paper from her bosom. "Know you that signature?" she said. "Go your way, and leave this old man to rest, who is too ill and infirm to move hence, and learn in future to exercise your bravery on objects capable of self-defence."

The police officer, with an abashed and scowling look, now prepared to depart; still however shewing some hesitation, as if doubtful of acting wisely; but a significant wave of Azila's hand, decided him to order his men to withdraw, when they, glad to escape, soon made their exit through the narrow doorway of the vault, followed by their leader.

As their footsteps were heard receding, the old man hastened to close the door, but was checked by Azila.

"No, father," she said, "let them not suppose that we have aught to conceal, by manifesting haste to shut them out, or they may perhaps return and renew their search, although I think their brutal leader would rather not attempt it." Some minutes accordingly elapsed, ere the door was again closed and barred.

While this scene was taking place, Ivan's feelings may be better conceived than described, as he lay concealed with his companion in their narrow cell; first, on hearing the entrance of the police, and their treatment of the old man, and again when their leader threatened to seize Azila. At first he felt inclined to rush out, and at all risks to arrest the barbarian, but the pain of his wound recalled him to timely reason, and he reflected that the act would not only sacrifice his companion and himself, but also indeed doubly commit his aged host and Azila. The maiden appeared at the entrance of the cell, soon after the police had withdrawn, and addressing its inmates, said:

"For the present, I trust you are safe, but I cannot answer for how long a time you may remain so, as the police will yet keep a watch on this place. I should advise, you, Sir, who are strong and able to seek safety elsewhere, to retire from hence as soon as I can ascertain that the road be clear; I am even confident, that they will return here again before long. Are you ready to depart?"

"Yes, yes," replied the conspirator, "I would rather trust myself to the dangers of the open streets, than run the risk of being taken here, like a fox in his hole; but it will be a perilous undertaking to run the gauntlet through the bands of the lynx-eyed police. Can I serve my friend, Galetzoff? and shall I not leave him in greater danger?"

"Fear not for him, leave him to my charge," answered Azila, "and now, be ready to fly hence on my return. I will learn from those on the watch if all be safe."

The maiden departed, the old man closing the door with the utmost caution, while the conspirator pressed Ivan's hand, bidding him farewell, and stood ready to sally forth on her return. She soon came back, assuring him that none of the police were to be seen in the neighbourhood; with hurried and anxious look, he then rushed forth to reach a safer refuge.

The door was now again secured with bar and bolt. Assuming the same bashful and retiring manner as before, when in Ivan's presence, so different from her usual free and independent bearing, when in discourse with others, Azila addressed the wounded youth--

"I must now leave you for a while," she said, "for I go to seek means to enable you to escape hence, in safety, to the tents of my people, where your wound will be quickly healed, and you may dwell until you gain strength to fly from the country. Until my return, I confide you to the care of an old and tried friend, and a trusty guard watches outside, who will give immediate notice of the slightest danger." Then making her usual oriental obeisance, she withdrew towards the door, lingering to cast one look on her patient; and before he had time to express his thanks, she had quitted the vault.

Ivan was left in the recess, the entrance being open, while his aged host prepared himself for slumber on a pallet in a corner of the vault; he followed the latter's example, although every passing sound aroused him.

The remainder of the night waned, no fresh event occurring to disturb the occupants of the dreary vault. No sooner had a few streaks of morning found ingress through the crevices of the walls, than the old man arose from his uneasy couch, and after tendering his services to Ivan, proceeded to prepare a morning meal. This considerably revived his wounded guest, though the pain he suffered had not diminished. Still the very recollection of his narrow escape gave him hopes for the future, and he looked forward with eagerness to the time when his present confinement would cease, and he should again breathe the pure air of Heaven in unrestrained liberty. Occupied with these thoughts, he passed the remainder of the day, anxiously awaiting Azila's return.

Volume 1, Chapter XVI.

The principal place of resort of that singular race of people, the Zingani, or Gipsies, or as they universally call themselves the Rommany; of whom there are several thousands in and about Moscow; is the Marina Rochte, lying about two versts distant from the city.

Most of these people obtain their livelihood in Moscow, either by keeping taverns, or by dealing in horses and by various other like kinds of traffic, bearing in general but an indifferently good character. The class, however, to which we now allude, are of the lowest order; whose females sing at the taverns and different public gardens in the neighbourhood, and are not of the best repute, as to modesty of behaviour. Here they congregate in great numbers, their countenances resembling those of their race who are to be met with in England; of brown complexions, and for the most part having beautiful and regular features; their eyes fiery and intelligent; their hair, somewhat coarse, of coal black hue; and all having the same free and independent bearing.

There is, however, another class of Zingani, whose very existence will surprise those who have been accustomed to consider these people as mere wandering barbarians, incapable of civilisation, and unable to appreciate the blessings of a quiet and settled life; for many of them inhabit large and handsome houses in Moscow, appear abroad in elegant equipages, and are scarcely to be distinguished from the upper classes of the Russians, unless, indeed by possessing superior personal advantages and mental accomplishments. Of this singular social phenomenon at Moscow, the female Gipsies are the principal cause, having from time immemorial cultivated their vocal powers, with such effect, that although in the heart of a country in which the vocal art has arrived at a greater perfection than perhaps in any other part of the world, the principal gipsy choirs in that city are, by universal consent, allowed to be unrivalled.

The sums obtained by these singers, are very large, enabling them to live in luxury of every description, and to maintain their husbands in almost princely magnificence. Many are married to Russian gentlemen of consideration. The lovely, talented, and domestic wife of a Count, well-known in the highest, circles of Moscow, is by birth a Gipsy, and was formerly the chief pride of a Rommany choir at Moscow, as she is now one of the principal ornaments of refined society.

In no other part of the world do the gipsies flourish as they do in Russia, affording a great contrast to the wretched hordes steeped in penury and vice, who infest the Peninsula; and to the low thieving trampers of England and Scotland, existing by petty pillage; such bands often being indeed but a collection of the lowest vagabonds of every description intermingled with the original race.

There are many opinions as to the land from whence the Zingani have sprung; it is generally supposed, that they originally came from Hindostan, being of the lowest class of Indians, called Suders, or those who have lost caste; that they migrated from thence in great numbers in 1409, when Timour Beg ravaged India, to spread with fire and sword the tenets of the Mahomedan religion. It seems probable that in their way towards Egypt, where we first hear of them, that they resided for a time in the country called Zinganen, at the mouth of the Indus, from whence they may perhaps have gained the name of Zingani. By what route they reached Egypt from thence, is not known, but they had fixed themselves there in great numbers in 1517, when Sultan Selim conquered the country. They revolted from his rule, under a leader who has assumed the name of Zinganeus, probably from being chosen chief of that people; but were completely worsted, being again compelled to seek safety in flight, and made their appearance in Europe in large bands about the year 1520. Some of their leaders, who with their followers found their way to the northern parts of Europe, called themselves dukes and lords of Lower Egypt, endeavouring to impose on the people, among whom they came, with pretentions of rank and dignity; in this, however, they were not very successful, soon sinking into a class considered no better than rogues and vagabonds.

In Russia, on the contrary, among an ignorant and barbarous population, their various talents and acuteness enabled them to sustain a superior station; nor have they, at any time, been there subject to the persecutions and indignities which they have had to endure in other countries of Europe. Though some, as we have said, have taken up their abode in cities, others still retain their primitive and wandering habits, living in tents; and roving from place to place, as may suit their fancy; or as they find it convenient to carry on the pursuits by which they exist.

The tribe or family to which Azila belonged, was under the guidance of a sagacious leader, and was compelled by him to refrain from all marauding habits. Though the Zingani chief was possessed of considerable wealth, he was of too free and independent a disposition to confine himself to the trammels and restraint of the social life of a city, preferring the more varied and roving existence enjoyed in a camp. He had, however, numerous connexions of every rank in the city; among the most superior of whom, his daughter Azila, had in truth been educated, and when her own inclinations led her to return to her father's camp, she was still regarded by them with the greatest affection; and it was by their aid, assisted by her own talent and penetration, that she was able to collect the varied information, which as we have seen, was of so much importance to the conspirators.

It is towards the close of one of the few bright and balmy days which cheer the hearts of the Russians in their short-lived summer, that we must again introduce our readers to the camp of our friend, the Zingani chief. It had lately been pitched on the confines of a wood, at a short distance from Marina Rochte; and it was evident, from fewer people than usual being seen about the encampments, that many had joined their brethren in the village, to enjoy their constant amusements of dancing, singing, and other sports.

At a short distance from the tented circle, the Zingani chief was slowly pacing the grass, with his arms crossed on his bosom, and lost in thought. At length he soliloquised aloud:

"This is the baneful effect of departing from our ancient laws and customs, by taking part in the affairs of the people with whom we dwell; losing our freedom and independence, by becoming subject to their cruel and unjust laws. Ought not I to have prevented that loved girl from trammelling herself with the affairs of others, who would show but little gratitude for her exertions, even if successful; and now too, probably, she herself may be in danger: and if so, what resource have I but to declare her parentage. That would save her: but the so doing would bring ruin on one who still lives. If she falls into the power of the tyrannical dispensers of the law, her fate would be dreadful. Should I not then save her? Yes, I must, even at the expense of the oath I so thoughtlessly took. It provided not for such an emergency. It must be done; and even thus, it would well nigh break my heart to part from her; to see her subject to all the deceit and treachery to which her station would expose her--to see her free-born spirit oppressed by the strict rules and absurd etiquette of society; to see her governed by one who could not appreciate her qualities, and shrinking before his stern and savage glance; confined too within walls, and no longer allowed to wander in free and unrestrained liberty. And yet, some will say that I am acting wrongly; that I am depriving her of the enjoyment of luxuries and of wealth, which are her due. Fools-- fools! who value worthless gold, outward pomp, and idle, debilitating effeminacy, to health, and the free air of heaven."

As he again turned, he saw the object of his thoughts approaching, at a quick pace, from the direction of the city. Azila appeared hurried and eager in manner; and after holding a short conference with her father, they entered together within the circle of tents. The gipsy chief then summoned round him the men who yet remained in the encampment--persons in whom he could place the utmost reliance in cases of emergency.

"Men of Rommany!" he said, addressing them in that style of language which they most love to hear, "there is an arduous and dangerous task to be performed, which will require the utmost sagacity and care. I have, therefore, summoned you around me, to select one who will swear to undertake it; but whoever offers himself, must know, that he risks his liberty, and perhaps his life."

As he finished speaking, a youth stepped forward from the circle of his companions, exclaiming:

"I am ready to undertake whatever you propose, if it be within the power of man!"

The keen, lustrous, dark eye; handsome and intelligent countenance; and well-knit limbs of the youth, were powerful recommendations in his favour; and the chief, without hesitation, selected him.

"I well know that I can trust you," said the chief; "the task will require all your sagacity and courage. Its main object is to ensure the freedom of the young stranger. But remember, Javis, that if your attempt be discovered, chains, imprisonment, and banishment, will infallibly be your lot: and for your reward, if you succeed, the utmost I can give, are my own and Azila's grateful thanks. More she cannot give," he added, as a blush rose, for a moment, on the youth's dark cheek.

"I ask not for reward," answered the youth. "It is but a debt of gratitude each man of the tribe owes to the young stranger; and I should be base if I were not ready to pay it: I will save him, or perish in the attempt."

"I trust you fully, Javis," said the chief; "and now we will call Azila to our conference."

He beckoned his daughter to approach; and for a considerable time they held an earnest consultation together.

As they finished speaking, a boy ran in, to inform the chief that a stranger was approaching the encampment.

"I will speak with him," said the chief.

In a few minutes the boy returned, accompanied by a peasant, whose weary and sorrowful appearance seemed to demand compassion.

"Who are you?" said the chief, eyeing him narrowly, and apparently satisfied with his scrutiny. "Who are you, who come uninvited among the people of Rommany? What do you seek with us?"

"If you are the person I take you to be, you shall presently know," answered the peasant; "tell me, are you not that kind, honest Gipsy, who was once very civil to my master; my poor young master, whom I have been seeking all over the city, and can hear nothing of. Alas! alas! I fear that he is in great peril."

"Who is your master?" asked the Gipsy; "when I know that, I may perhaps answer some of your questions."

"My poor young master," replied the peasant, who proved to be our old friend Karl, "is the son of Baron Galetzoff. Well, I was sent to Moscow to-day, and venturing to pay a visit to my young Lord, I heard that he had disappeared, nobody knows where. I have been seeking for him all day, in every place I could think of, and have now come to ask you, if you know any thing of him?"

"It is not my custom to answer the questions of those whom I do not know," said the Gipsy. "Tell me, how came you to suppose, that I could tell you any thing of your master?"

"Why, for this reason," said Karl; "I once heard my poor young master, and his friend Thaddeus Stanisloff, speak of a Zingani chief, who had promised to assist them, if they got into any difficulties. Well, as I was wandering about, and looking in search of my master, I saw some of the Rommany people; and I bethought me that I would come out here, and learn if their chief was in the neighbourhood, and if he knew any thing of my dear master."

"Well, my good friend," said the Gipsy, who was pleased with poor Karl's simplicity and sincerity, "go back now to the city, and say not a word more of your master; but return here to-morrow, at day-break, and be careful that you are unobserved, and perhaps you may then see him."

"Thanks, most kind and worthy Sir," answered Karl, "you have made my heart light and happy again."

He then took his leave, as desired, and returned to Moscow; where, as he was wandering about, looking into various shops, to pass the time, he met an acquaintance, to whom he could not resist giving the gratifying intelligence, that he had heard of his young master, the son of the Baron Galetzoff, as he still persisted in calling Ivan. He did not observe that a stranger was standing within ear-shot, at the time; but he soon found, to his cost, the effects of his thoughtless communication; for, within, an hour, he was seized by some of the police, and dragged immediately before a magistrate.

He was at first mildly interrogated respecting Ivan, in the hope of extracting some voluntary information from him. The magistrate then pressed him more severely, but discovered that the prisoner was a most difficult subject to exert his authority upon, and when sternly ordered to confess all he knew, he stoutly denied ever having received any information of the person in question.

Unfortunately, however, for poor Karl, his perseverance was of no avail to himself, for his acquaintance, who had confessed all he knew, was confronted with him. Another person was found, who proved that he was a serf of the Baron Galetzoff, and consequently must have known the son of that noble. His denial was therefore of no further service to him, and the next day, he was ordered before a criminal court then sitting, where for his contumacy in refusing to answer any questions, he was condemned forthwith to receive the punishment of the knout.

Poor Karl turned pale when he heard his sentence pronounced, but his courage did not forsake him, and he determined to undergo any torture, rather than betray his young master. He was dragged off, therefore, to receive his punishment, with two other criminals convicted of heinous crimes, and whose pallid countenances and trembling limbs, betokened their dread of the coming torture.