The Shadow of Tyburn Tree

Chevalier to me, at Count Orlof's reception. Is what he says the truth? Do you love him?'

'With all my heart, Madame,' she whispered. 'I had meant to seek a favourable opportunity of pleading with you to exercise your mercy, and give him his freedom.'

The clothes that Roger had been wearing that evening were lying on a couch at the foot of the bed. Taking the two parchments from the pocket of the coat and picking up the star of St. Vladimir, he bowed again and offered them to Catherine, with the words:

'Here, Madame, is the title to the estate and the Order that you so generously gave me. Here, too, is the pardon which I fain would have kept. But I pray you take them all. I surrender my future into the keeping of God and your Majesty.'

Catherine could have annulled all three by a word, but it was a splendid gesture, and she was not the woman to be outdone. With a regal sweep of her hand she cried: ' 'Tis not our habit to give a thing one moment and take it back the next. Had the Baroness come to us with the truth she could have had your pardon. As for the other things we are not so poor that we cannot afford to pay well for a good evening's conversation. Keep them as mementoes of your visit to our Court.'

As Roger went down on one knee she turned to Natalia.

'Rise child, and go to your room now. Your sovereign has loved enough to know the pains of it, and she still comes by lovers with too great an ease to wish to spoil your romance. You may tell your com­panions that they may aid your preparations; for 'tis our pleasure that you should be married to the Chevalier to-morrow morning.'

Natalia and Roger came abruptly to their feet. She gave a cry of joy; he a gasp of dismay. But Catherine had not yet shot her final bolt. Her voice becoming a shade colder she went on:

'We have no desire to be reminded of this episode, so will dispense with the further attendance of either of you upon our person. 'Tis our will that after the ceremony you should depart forthwith, to take up your residence in any town of your choice—provided it be situated in Siberia.'

CHAPTER XIX

LIKE A SHEEP TO THE SLAUGHTER

ROGER sat on the edge of the bed, a prey to the most shattering emotions. The Empress and Natalia had gone. He had joined his bride-to-be, with apparent sincerity, in rendering thanks for mercy to the arbitress of their fates because he had seen no other course to take. He supposed that, as a lady-in-waiting and the appointed lover of the Empress caught in one another's arms, they had got off very lightly by merely being sent to reside where they liked in Arctic Russia. And Catherine had no means of knowing that he had grown to hate Natalia Andreovna, so her decree that they should marry had, in the circum­stances, been a most humane and generous gesture.

Yet, for him, her orders amounted to a savage double sentence. The thought of Siberia was, in itself, bad enough. Its terrible desolation; the incredible cold which was said to hold all life there in its grip for eight months of every year; the miserable little towns composed solely of wooden buildings; the lack of cultured society; its uncouth, fur-clad, bear-like inhabitants; the vast distance that it lay from all the capitals of the civilised world. And, in his case, the hardship of exile to this remote and barren land was to be accentuated a hundred-fold by being permanently tied to a cruel and violent woman to whom he was hardly even physically attracted any longer.

Had he been himself, the moment the two women had left himhe would have pulled on his clothes and made his bid to escape. As it was he was still feeling sick and giddy, and his mind was half-stunned by the succession of violent shocks that it had sustained. He lost several precious moments before he began to dress, wondering if he dared beg the Empress to rescind her order that he should marry Natalia, and he had only just finished dressing when the chance to get away was suddenly reft from him.

Old Katerina Ivanovna suddenly walked in, slammed the door behind her, then stood there for three whole minutes, cursing him for the idiotic way in which he had allowed an intrigue with a lady-in-waiting to ruin his golden prospects with the Empress.

He was too tired to attempt any explanation; and when the old harridan told him to leave his things where they were and come with her, he obediently followed her out into the corridor.

She led him past the entrance of the Court theatre and up some stairs to a landing on which two sentries were pacing to and fro. Opening a door, she led him into a comfortably furnished bedroom; then she said:

'You will sleep here. Your marriage will take place at Her Majesty's usual chapel-hour to-morrow, and she will honour you with her presence. On peril of your life you will say nothing to anyone of what has taken place to-night, or that you have been ordered into exile. The Empress is always most averse to any scandal in connection with her love-affairs, and has forbidden her ladies to mention the matter. The public ceremony is designed to counteract any rumours that she threw her cap at you and you threw it back at her. Had it been myself that you had so insulted I would have had you beaten with the battaguesuntil your backbone was a pulp.' Having delivered herself of these malicious sentiments, she left him.

Going to the window he saw that it looked out on a small interior courtyard to which there was no exit, and that it was. a twenty-foot drop to the flagstones below. Even if he could have accomplished the descent without breaking his neck he now had neither his money nor his sword with him, so he was forced to abandon as hopeless any further thought of escape.

Wearily pulling off his clothes he tumbled into bed and lay there turning over wildly impossible schemes for evading the hateful marriage that had been arranged for him. After a while the sleeping-draught took effect and he fell into a troubled slumber, in which he dreamed that he had fallen through a hole in the ice of a frozen river, and that Natalia Andreovna was standing on the bank laughing at his futile efforts to save himself from drowning.

He was awakened by two footmen, one of whom drew back the curtains and began to tidy the room while the other brought him breakfast. He ate it in a half-dazed state while grimly going over in his mind the nerve-racking events of the preceding night. No sooner had he finished than the German doctor came in. Having examined Roger and pronounced him fit to resume his normal activities, he spent some time in questioning him as to what he had eaten the day before, in a fruitless effort to trace the cause of the attack. When he had gone the two footmen returned with Roger's baggage and offered to help him dress. Only then did he realise that he had been left to sleep late and that it was already half-past nine. A quarter of an hour later a barber arrived to do his hair, and on the completion of his toilette the two Chevalier guards who had escorted him from Schlusselburg appeared.

Whether or not they knew of the great elevation that had been planned for him they said nothing of it; but they smilingly con­gratulated him on having received his pardon and on his forthcoming marriage. A tray with wine, vodka and pastries stuffed with caviare was then brought in and his visitors drank his health.

After two glasses of wine he felt somewhat better; but, rack his brains as he would, he could still think of no way to escape making the green-eyed Baroness Stroganof into Mrs. Roger Brook; and now there was no further time to do so, as one of his companions remarked that the hour had come for them to proceed to the chapel.

As they left the room Roger placed himself between them and they took him through the covered passage that led to the parent palace, then along several corridors till they reached a pair of doors that opened into the Imperial basilica.

A huge painting of God the Father occupied the whole ceiling and a row of gilt Ionic columns soared to it on either side, but an incon­gruous note was struck by the walls being covered with tawdry and ill-executed pictures of Russian saints. A gilt rail ran across its far end, in front of the great gilded doors of the sanctuary, and the body of the chapel was already filled with the Empress's brilliantly-clad household.

On Roger's entrance the ceremony opened with solemn vocal music, no other being permitted in the Greek church, but two double lines of richly-robed choristers made up amply for the deficiency. His companions conducted him to the rail and he had scarcely reached it when a stir behind him caused him to turn his head. Followed by half-a-dozen young women of her own age, Natalia Andreovna was advancing towards him. She was dressed in white brocade, the figuring of which was outlined in gold thread; on her head she wore a big hooped headdress sparkling with gold and jewels.

Despite all his bitter thoughts of her Roger felt his breath catch at the sight of her loveliness.

As he bowed to her the voices of the choristers swelled to a mighty-paean and the Empress entered. On reaching the rail she passed through it by a gate and took her place alone under a richly-decorated canopy to the south side of the holy doors. They swung open displaying the penetralia of the temple; a picture of the descent from the Cross and an altar covered with golden tissue. A number of vener­able, long-bearded priests, wearing vestments and bun-like mitres that blazed with precious stones, then appeared. By the Greek ritual no one is allowed to sit in church, so there were no seats, even for the Empress; but as the ceremony proceeded, the