Chapter IV: The Princess and the Cardinal

After the departure of her two ministers the Princess Barbara, rising from her seat, passed through an open casement into the sunlit gardens without; the sentinels on the terrace presenting arms as she went by.

A broad and noble avenue of linden trees faced her, and here silent and without attendants the fair princess walked, darkly meditating on the treachery latent within her cabinet.

A shadow fell across her path, and, raising her eyes, she saw before her a stately and dignified figure robed in splendid scarlet and dainty lace.

It was Pasqual Ravenna, Cardinal Archbishop of Czernova, an ecclesiastic who vainly sought to hide his Italian origin by Polanizing his name into Ravenski.

He was a man who had passed his fortieth year, but he looked far more youthful; and his clean-shaven, handsome face was as clearly sculptured as a head on an antique medallion.

He was a member of the princess's ministry, a permanent member, in fact, for, by virtue of an antiquated statute both the Roman archbishop and the Greek archpastor were entitled to hold office in the cabinet--an arrangement that did not tend to its harmony. A favor to one was an affront to the other; and the mild and amiable Radzivil was perpetually employed in smoothing the differences between them.

Barbara's avowal to the cabinet of her real faith had been a great triumph for Ravenna over his Greek rival Mosco, and he looked forward to additional triumphs. His desire of bringing all Czernova within the papal fold was known to all men; not so well known, however, was his taste for amorous intrigue, though a physiognomist on studying his countenance would have said that Ravenna, like Cæsar, never permitted pleasure to interfere with ambition.

Doffing his red beretta the cardinal bent his knee and raised the princess's hand to his lips. It was clear at a glance that Ravenna was not a _persona grata_ with Barbara, for though she did not withdraw her hand her face assumed a cold expression.

With an air of authority he took his place on the left side of the princess, and began to pace to and fro with her beneath the shade of the linden trees.

"Princess, I have returned, as you see, from the Vatican, the bearer of a missive from his Holiness, Pope Pius."

He presented a massive envelope, its seal stamped with the papal keys. But Barbara waved it aside. She had received many such epistles of late, and the novelty was wearing off.

"You know its contents, I presume. Read it for me. What says his Holiness?"

Ravenna broke the seal and unfolded the letter which was a somewhat lengthy one, and written in the choicest Latinity.

"The Holy Father greets you as his dear daughter _in Christo_, and, as you are now firmly established upon the throne"--Barbara could not repress a smile in view of the recent menace of the Czar--"he deems that the time is ripe for the public avowal of your faith."

"At last the Pope and I are at one. This night shall Radzivil make known my faith to the Diet. I ever loathed this garb of secrecy and hypocrisy."

"Its assumption was necessary. The saints themselves must bow in the house of Rimmon at times."

"Would that I could drop the other deception and reign in my own name!" murmured Barbara to herself.

"His Holiness," proceeded the cardinal, glancing at the papal missive, "anticipates the happy day when Czernova shall be purified from the malaria of heresy that now taints it."

"And in what way does he suggest that the purificatory process shall begin?" said the princess with a slight frown.

"His Holiness hath ventured in this epistle to briefly indicate the lines of the ecclesiastical policy to be observed within the principality. We must begin by penalizing the schismatic Greeks. The Diet must pass a law to exclude them from holding civil offices."

"And create a rebellion!" murmured Barbara. "These priests! will they never learn wisdom?" And aloud she asked, "And would your Eminence have me exclude the Duke of Bora, my future consort, both from the cabinet and the Diet?"

"Your future consort? Alas, princess, I regret to say that the Pope has again refused to grant you dispensation to marry the duke."

"We shall not ask a third time."

"Your Highness cheerfully accepts his decision?"

"On the contrary, it is my intention to marry without the papal sanction. I must," she added, her expression showing how hateful to her was the thought of such marriage--"I must conciliate my Muscovite subjects."

"Princess, you, as a vassal of the holy Roman suzerain--"

"By your leave, Sir Cardinal," exclaimed Barbara, haughtily, "will you cite the Act by which the Diet consented that Czernova should become a fief of the Papal See?"

It was the first time that Barbara had adopted such a tone with Ravenna, who listened, however, without betraying surprise; for he was one of those men whose outward serenity nothing seems to disturb, and therein lay one of the secrets of his power. He clearly recognized that a struggle was impending. The princess, hitherto compliant with his will, was about to make an attempt to shake off his authority.

"Princess, you, as a loyal daughter of the True Church--"

"Daughter! that is a good word. A daughter is not a slave."

"But she owes obedience. You cannot marry the duke, for the Holy Father forbids the union, and no Catholic priest dare perform the ceremony in opposition to the will of Pio Nono."

"There is one brave priest in Czernova upon whose loyalty I can rely."

"You allude to the Abbot Faustus, a lawless ecclesiastic who must learn to discipline his proud soul. If your Highness will glance at this missive, you will note that the Pope has conferred upon me full jurisdiction over the Convent of the Transfiguration."

"A convent whose abbot from old time hath been independent of the see of Slavowitz! You will put Faustus in a dilemma," continued Barbara with a touch of sarcasm in her voice; "he will not know which of the two Infallibilities to follow: Pius II., who granted the convent its privileges, or Pius IX., who abolishes them. I greatly fear that he will follow the old Pope in preference to the new."

Barbara would have repudiated the statement that she was not a true Catholic. Nevertheless it is to be seen that her Catholicism like many other things in Czernova was peculiarly _sui generis_.

"And your Highness supports Faustus in his defiance of the archbishop?"

The princess shrugged her graceful shoulders.

"I am aware that your Eminence is extremely anxious to regulate the affairs of that convent, and that Faustus in the exercise of his ancient rights declines to admit you within his walls. It is no concern of mine if an abbot refuse to obey his archbishop."

"Still, a word from the princess would procure his instant submission."

"And that word shall never be spoken."

"The Convent of the Transfiguration must hide strange mysteries behind its walls when the Pope's own nuncio is denied admission."

There was on the part of the princess a sudden start, which the cardinal accepted as confirmatory of his suspicion.

"Princess," he said with a smile, "you are not yet perfect in statecraft, for you have not learned the art of veiling your thoughts. It is as I have long suspected; you have some secret connected with that monastery. Your championing of Abbot Faustus is not altogether disinterested."

"Quit me this theme," said Barbara, with dignity. "I shall not misuse my authority to gratify your ambition by depriving a brave abbot of his ancient privileges. Indeed from this day forth it will be well for each of us to understand the other, inasmuch as you seem strangely disposed to reverse our respective positions, deeming yourself the ruler of Czernova, and myself your minister." She paused for a moment as if to collect her thoughts, and then resumed: "My lord cardinal, under strange circumstances you stole me away in infancy, deluding my father into the belief that I had died. You took charge of my training and education--"

"With a view to your ultimate restoration," said the cardinal, bowing.

"True. You desire to present the Czernovese with a princess who should be a Catholic, and not, as her forefathers had been, a member of the Greek faith--"

"A noble aim!"

"A princess who should be a willing tool in the hands of the Latin Church. The first part of your scheme has succeeded. I am a Catholic, and shall never break with the faith of my childhood, for it has grown dear to me, though the thought that you, my lord, belong to the same faith might very well induce me to renounce it. But as to the second part of your scheme--your expectation of finding in me a servile instrument ready to execute every decree of the Papal See is destined to failure. No priest shall dictate to the daughter of Thaddeus. Let the crosier submit to the sceptre. Jesuits by their intolerance contributed to the fall of old Poland. They shall not play their game in Czernova."

The cardinal listened with chiding smile, as if at the waywardness of a pretty child.

"Princess! princess! you forget the tenure by which you hold your crown."

"I hold my crown," said Barbara, with proud flashing eyes, "by right of birth."

"A right that you cannot prove without my witness."

"And therefore you would use your knowledge?"

"To advance in Czernova the interests of the True Church."

"For that I could forgive you. But have you no ulterior aim? Shall I unmask the secret purpose of your heart? Radzivil made an unwise choice in sending you to the Vatican to plead for the dispensation. Were you really urgent on my behalf?"

"As urgent as one may be with a pope."

"Hypocrite!" said the princess, turning upon the cardinal with a blaze of scorn. "Can I not see you now in my mind's eye whispering in the ear of the Pope to withhold the dispensation? And why? The heretical duke must not marry the princess, because the cardinal would have her for his secret mistress. Will you say that I wrong you by this thought?"

"Princess, you have rightly divined my secret. It is true that I love you--"

"I would that Zabern could hear you!" said Barbara indignantly. "You, a priest, to talk to your princess of love!"

It was significant that the marshal's name, and not that of Bora, should be the first to rise to her lips.

"A priest? True. Such is my misfortune, since once a priest always a priest. My love for you--"

"Let there be an end of this language," said Barbara with dignity. "It is treason."

"Nay, princess, listen. I have loved you in secret from the day when I set eyes on you in the Dalmatian convent. I have elevated you to a throne partly for the purpose of making you mine, that you might taste the luxury of power, and, tasting, be ready to sacrifice anything, even your own person, rather than lose that power. Aware of my love, you are forming a plan to escape me. If you should be deposed, who succeeds? The Duke of Bora as next of kin. Therefore you think by becoming his wife to retain your rank as princess, and thus to foil my hopes. That motive, rather than a desire to conciliate the Muscovite faction, urges you to this match."

His statement was perhaps correct, for Barbara did not offer any denial to it.

"But be mindful of this: the duke cares less for you than for your crown. At heart he dislikes you, for he finds his solemn dulness an ill match for your bright wit. I have but to whisper to him that your title is invalid, and he will be the first to demand your deposition. It will not be difficult to prove that you are an impostor. The physicians and nurses who attended the infant days of Princess Natalie are still living. The simple baring of your right shoulder would prove that, whoever you may be, you are not that princess. Your assertion that nevertheless you are her elder and half-sister would be laughed to scorn. Who will believe your word, unsupported by evidence, that the late Prince Thaddeus had contracted an early and secret marriage? The whole affair would be regarded as a plot on the part of Cardinal Ravenna formed to advance the interests of his Church. Barbara Lilieska, I acknowledge you to be the lawful Princess of Czernova, but whenever it shall please me I can compel you to step down from your throne."

Barbara quivered with indignation. She, a princess with the blood of Polish kings in her veins, and at whose word twenty thousand swords would flash from their scabbards, to be threatened by an Italian ecclesiastic! She turned her head towards the armed sentinels slowly pacing the stately terrace of the palace.

"One moment, princess, ere ordering my arrest. I do not venture upon this avowal without safeguarding myself. Listen! There lives at the present moment upon the other side of the frontier--in what town no matter--an individual devoted to my interests. To him I have entrusted the keeping of three sealed packets. So soon as he shall learn of my arrest he will thus act. One packet he will despatch to the Russian Foreign Minister; the second to the Duke of Bora; and with the third he will hasten to the office of the 'Kolokol' newspaper, whose pro-Russian editor, Lipski, will be but too delighted to print the contents of that packet; its publication will cause a stir in Czernova. There are your guards. Call them. Arrest me. Behead me on the spot if you will. But be sure of this: your own downfall will follow within seven days."

Barbara did not call her guards. She said nothing, did nothing.

"Princess, forgive me for using the language of threats; it is with reluctance that I adopt such a course. But--you recognize my power, and you know my love. Your answer?"

"Better the cloister's quiet shade than a throne on such terms."

"It is not the cloister's quiet shade that you will see, but the interior of a Russian fortress. In occupying the throne of Czernova you will be accused of assuming rights the reversion of which belongs to the Czar, inasmuch as he is next heir after the duke. The Czar will see in your usurpation an affront to his dignity. He will demand that you be sent to Russia, there to take your trial. And the cowardly duke will comply. You know how much 'the politician in petticoats' is hated by the Russian ministry, and what justice you are likely to receive at their hands. When the black wall of a Muscovite fortress girdles you round forever," he added in a significant whisper, "when rough soldiers are your jailers, when no cry of yours can penetrate to the outer world, then--then the love of a cardinal even would be a desirable thing."

Barbara could not repress a feeling of horror at the picture suggested by these words.

"If the duke should rule he will rule merely as the vassal of the Czar, and Czernova will become a province of Russia. Therefore, consider well your decision. You ruin not yourself only, but the faithful friends dependent upon you. Zabern, Radzivil, Dorislas, all the ministers whose policy has offended the Czar, will be delivered up to him by the duke. Czernova will be overrun by Cossack soldiery, and placed under martial law. Her young men will be drafted off to serve in the Russian army. The university will be closed, the Catholic Church persecuted. The wailings of Czernova will mount upward to Heaven, but when did Heaven ever listen to the cry of the oppressed? Princess, it is true I require of you a sacrifice, but it is a sacrifice meriting the name of virtue. The fate of a nation hangs upon your answer. How easy for you to save them by conferring happiness upon me!"

He could not have employed an argument more adapted to gain his end than an appeal to the welfare of the people whom she loved; nevertheless, it had altogether failed, as he saw by the sovereign scorn that curved her lips.

"You are master of my secret, but not of me. Though I err in bearing the name of Natalie, I am nevertheless the lawful princess of Czernova; and Heaven, being just, will maintain me in my rights. He sets himself a hard task, cardinal, who proposes to fight against the truth. Reveal my story to the duke--to the Diet, to the whole principality--this very day, if you will. I fear you not. I will do nothing to stop you. I will wait to see whether you will be bold enough to play this traitor's game. And when you have done your worst to destroy the princess, and failed, then beware the vengeance of Zabern; for though you fly to the secret recesses of the Vatican, and cling to the holy robe of Pio Nono himself, Zabern will find and slay you. There is my answer both to your threats and to your lust, for call not your desires by the sacred name of love."

The cardinal gave a mock bow.

"Princess, I will not yet draw the sword against you, confident that time and reflection will bring you wisdom. Reign till your coronation-eve, when I will return to this theme."

His cold smile gave little indication of the volcano of passion that was burning within him. The sight of the distant sentinels alone kept him from seizing and holding Barbara within his arms. Brilliant in youth and loveliness she tortured him; and he resolved to torture in turn, since the means of doing so were at his disposal.

"Ere I take my leave," he said, "let me tell you of an event that took place this morning. Nay, princess, do not turn away. The story will interest you as no other story can."

Something in Ravenna's manner compelled Barbara to pause and face him again.

"Princess, prepare yourself for a surprise. One whom we both thought dead now proves to be living."

Despite her loathing of the cardinal, Barbara found herself forced to utter one word,--

"Who?"

"One whose supposed demise caused you to say that you would forever carry a dead heart within your breast."

The princess gave a great start, and placed her hand upon her side. With a foreboding of what was to come she stood immovable, mute, scarcely breathing.

"Isola Sacra was certainly submerged. We both saw that. But ere it sank the captive must have escaped, for a young Englishman calling himself Paul Cressingham Woodville put up last evening at the Hôtel de Varsovie."

Barbara was powerless to speak, but the look in her eyes was a language that plainly said, "Is it the same?"

The cardinal understood her silent question.

"The same. For verification I sent to the Police Bureau where strangers register themselves. These little particulars on his _carte de séjour_ leave no doubt on the matter."

Here Ravenna drew forth a paper and began reading from it. "'Name: Paul Woodville, formerly Paul Cressingham. Age: twenty-seven. Nationality: English. Residence: Oriel Hall, Kent, England. Religion: Anglican Church. Calling: Captain in the Twenty-fourth Kentish, a cavalry regiment. Object in visiting Czernova: The pleasure of travelling,' Humph! was that the motive that drew him here? Princess, do you mark the name Woodville? Your Dalmatian hero has been distinguishing himself, for he is none other than the Englishman who conducted the defence of Tajapore."

Emotion caused Barbara to sink upon a marble seat. She knew that Ravenna was speaking, but she heard not his words. She was oblivious of everything, but the one overwhelming thought that Paul was alive, and at that very moment within her own city of Slavowitz!

Her feelings were eloquently testified by the new and radiant light that came over her face, by her lips parted in an unconscious smile, by her bosom heaving beneath its foam of white lace. Never had the princess looked so lovely in the cardinal's eyes as now. Lost in a delicious daze she was quite forgetful of his presence, as he himself perceived, for two or three questions addressed to her evoked no recognition.

Her pleasure struck a pang to his jealous heart. What would he not have given to be the cause of such transfiguration? But though he could not create such joy, he could extinguish it, and would; and observing that Barbara was awaking from her day-dream, and endeavoring to fix her attention upon him, he proceeded,--

"Captain Woodville--to call him by his new name--saw you this morning from the balcony of the Hôtel de Varsovie. Knowing that you cannot really be Natalie Lilieska he will, of course, conclude that you are an impostor."

How could Paul, ignorant of her true history, come to any other conclusion? The thought sent a sudden chill to her warm feelings.

"These Englishmen pride themselves on their blunt honesty and plain dealing. What will he think when he sees that in the sacred matter of religion you are acting the hypocrite, in secret a Catholic, yet for the sake of self-interest publicly posing as a Greek!"

Yes; it was true. In name and religion she was a living lie. How she must have fallen in Paul's esteem! Her quickly changing expression gave pleasure to the cardinal.

"He saw the duke publicly kiss your hand, and must thus have learned of your betrothal. Inquiries as to Bora's character must cause him to marvel at the taste which selects this Scythian barbarian for your consort."

Every word went, as intended, to Barbara's heart. Paul, not knowing that she had believed him dead, must have thought himself forgotten by her. How she longed to see him, to explain the difficulties of her position, to set matters right between them!

Regardless of what court officials might think, she would send an equerry this same day to the Hôtel de Varsovie with a message to the effect that the Princess of Czernova was desirous of an interview with Captain Paul Woodville.

"If it be sweet to learn that the dear friends whom we have long thought dead are alive, how bitter it must be to lose them again, ere we can have the opportunity of seeing them!"

"What do you mean?"

Barbara did not speak these words. The question was put by the eager, fearful look of her eyes.

"It seems that the duke and Captain Woodville--I crave your Highness's pardon, Captain Woodville and the duke--met by chance on the balcony of the Hôtel de Varsovie. A sapphire seal worn by the Englishman attracted the notice of the duke, inasmuch as he recognized it as a former gift of his to the Princess Natalie. The Englishman refused to state how he came by its possession, with the result that there is to be a duel over the matter."

"Mother of God!"

But for her dark arched eyebrows and dusky glowing eyes, the princess's face might have been taken for a piece of white sculpture.

"It is to be no mock contest. They fight with sabres and to the death."

"They shall not fight," gasped Barbara, finding her voice at last. "I shall send a troop to the Ducal Palace to arrest Bora--now--at once."

"Too late! princess," answered Ravenna in a mocking voice. "They fight this very day, within an hour from now. The combatants are already on their way to the rendezvous in the Red Forest. The swiftest horse of the Ukraine could not reach the spot in time for you to stay the duel. And granting that you should arrive in time you would be powerless; for, in order to avoid breaking the Czernovese law, Ostrova, the duke's second, has fixed the place of combat on the Russian side of the frontier, where your authority does not extend."

White as the princess's face was it grew whiter still as Ravenna proceeded in a fierce exultant tone,--

"You know the duke's reputation as a _beau sabreur_. Thirty duels, and never a wound has he received in any one of them; that is his record. In the Czernovese army are twenty thousand men, not one of whom, unless he wish for death, dares face the duke's deadly blade. You yourself have witnessed his feats in the _salle d'armes_; you have seen him disarm in swift succession the best fencers among your officers.--Zabern, Dorislas, Miroslav! Who can stand before the duke?"

He paused for a moment, and then, pointing to the sun shimmering through the leaves of the linden-trees, he added,--

"Princess, ere that golden orb has set, your English hero will be lying dead upon the turf, slain by the hand of the man whom you would make your husband."

Barbara heard no more. With a cry of "O Paul, Paul,"--a cry in which love and grief were intermingled,--she slid from her seat, and lay as one dead at the feet of the cardinal.