Гастон Леру - The Secret of the Night

"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 criminal support than in you."

"Of what am I accused, Sire?"

"Koupriane—"

"Ah! Ah! … Pardon!"

"My Chief of Police justly complains that you have traversed all his designs and that you have taken it upon yourself to ruin them. First, you removed his agents, who inconvenienced you, it seems; then, the moment that he had the proof in hand of the abominable alliance of Natacha Feodorovna with the Nihilists who attempt the assassination of her father your intervention has permitted that proof to escape him. And you have boasted of the feat, monsieur, so that we can only consider you responsible for the attempts that followed.

"Without you, Natacha would not have attempted to poison her father. Without you, they would not have sent to find physicians who could blow up the datcha des Iles. Finally, no later than yesterday, when this faithful servant of mine had set a trap they could not have escaped from, you have had the audacity, you, to warn them of it. They owe their escape to you. Monsieur, those are attempts against the security of the State which deserves the heaviest punishment. Why, you went out one day from here promising me to save General Trebassof from all the plotting assassins who lurked about him. And then you play the game of the assassins! Your conduct is as miserable as that of Natacha Feodorovna is monstrous!"

The Emperor ceased, and looked at Rouletabille, who had not lowered his eyes.

"What can you say for yourself? Speak—now."

"I can only say to Your Majesty that I come to take leave of you because my task here is finished. I have promised you the life of General Trebassof, and I bring it to you. He runs no danger any more! I say further to Your Majesty that there exists nowhere in the world a daughter more devoted to her father, even to the death, a daughter more sublime than Natacha Feodorovna, nor more innocent."

"Be careful, monsieur. I inform you that I have studied this affair personally and very closely. You have the proofs of these statements you advance?"

"Yes, Sire."

"And I, I have the proofs that Natacha Feodorovna is a renegade."

At this contradiction, uttered in a firm voice, the Emperor stirred, a flush of anger and of outraged majesty in his face. But, after this first movement, he succeeded in controlling himself, opened a drawer brusquely, took out some papers and threw them on the table.

"Here they are."

Rouletabille reached for the papers.

"You do not read Russian, monsieur. I will translate their purport for you. Know, then, that there has been a mysterious exchange of letters between Natacha Feodorovna and the Central Revolutionary Committee, and that these letters show the daughter of General Trebassof to be in perfect accord with the assassins of her father for the execution of their abominable project."

"The death of the general?"

"I declare to Your Majesty that that is not possible."

"Obstinate man! I will read—"

"Useless, Sire. It is impossible. There may be in them the question of a project, but I am greatly surprised if these conspirators have been sufficiently imprudent to write in those letters that they count on Natacha to poison her father."

"That, as a matter of fact, is not written, and you yourself are responsible for it not being there. It does not follow any the less that Natacha Feodorovna had an understanding with the Nihilists."

"That is correct, Sire."

"Ah, you confess that?"

"I do not confess; I simply affirm that Natacha had an understanding with the Nihilists."

"Who plotted their abominable attacks against the ex–Governor of Moscow."

"Sire, since Natacha had an understanding with the Nihilists, it was not to kill her father, but to save him. And the project of which you hold here the proofs, but of whose character you are unaware, is to end the attacks of which you speak, instantly."

"You say that."

"I speak the truth, Sire."

"Where are the proofs? Show me your papers."

"I have none. I have only my word."

"That is not sufficient."

"It will be sufficient, once you have heard me."

"I listen."

"Sire, before revealing to you a secret on which depends the life of General Trebassof, you must permit me some questions. Your Majesty holds the life of the general very dear?"

"What has that to do with it?"

"Pardon. I desire that Your Majesty assure me on that point."

"The general has protected my throne. He has saved the Empire from one of the greatest dangers that it has ever run. If the servant who has done such a service should be rewarded by death, by the punishment that the enemies of my people prepare for him in the darkness, I should never forgive myself. There have been too many martyrs already!"

"You have replied to me, Sire, in such a way that you make me understand there is no sacrifice—even to the sacrifice of your amour–propre the greatest a ruler can suffer—no sacrifice too dear to ransom from death one of these martyrs."

"Ah, ah! These gentlemen lay down conditions to me! Money. Money. They need money. And at how much do they rate the head of the general?"

"Sire, that does not touch Your Majesty, and I never will come to offer you such a bargain. That matter concerns only Natacha Feodorovna, who has offered her fortune!"

"Her fortune! But she has nothing."

"She will have one at the death of the general. Now she engages to give it all to the Revolutionary Committee the day the general dies—if he dies a natural death!"

The Emperor rose, greatly agitated.

"To the Revolutionary Party! What do you tell me! The fortune of the general! Eh, but these are great riches."

"Sire, I have told you the secret. You alone should know it and guard it forever, and I have your sacred word that, when the hour comes, you will let the prize go where it is promised. If the general ever learns of such a thing, such a treaty, he would easily arrange that nothing should remain, and he would denounce his daughter who has saved him, and then he would promptly he the prey of his enemies and yours, from whom you wish to save him. I have told the secret not to the Emperor, but to the representative of God on the Russian earth. I have confessed it to the priest, who is bound to forget the words uttered only before God. Allow Natacha Feodorovna her own way, Sire! And her father, your servant, whose life is so dear to you, is saved. At the natural death of the general his fortune will go to his daughter, who has disposed of it."

Rouletabille stopped a moment to judge of the effect produced. It was not good. The face of his august listener was more and more in a frown.

The silence continued, and now the reporter did not dare to break it. He waited.

Finally, the Emperor rose and walked forward and backward across the room, deep in thought. For a moment he stopped at the window and waved paternally to the little Tsarevitch, who played in the park with the grand–duchesses.

Then he returned to Rouletabille and pinched his ear.

"But, tell me, how have you learned all this? And who then has poisoned the general and his wife, in the kiosk, if not Natacha?"