Гастон Леру - The Secret of the Night

"If one outlined her crime to her, do you believe she would confess it? asked the Emperor.

"I am so sure of it that I have had her brought here. By now Koupriane should be here at the chateau, with Matrena Petrovna."

"You think of everything, monsieur."

The Tsar moved to ring a bell. Rouletabille raised his hand.

"Not yet, Sire. I ask that you permit me not to be present at the confusion of that brave, heroic, good woman who has loved me much. But before I go, Sire—do you promise me?"

The Emperor believed he had not heard correctly or did not grasp the meaning. He repeated what Rouletabille had said. The young reporter repeated it once more:

"Do you promise? No, Sire, I am not mad. I dare to ask you that. I have confided my honor to Your Majesty. I have told you Natacha's secret. Well, now, before Matrena's confession, I dare to ask you: Promise me to forget that secret. It will not suffice merely to give Natacha back again to her father. It is necessary to leave her course open to her—if you really wish to save General Trebassof. What do you decide, Sire?"

"It is the first time anyone has questioned me, monsieur."

"Ah, well, it will be the last. But I humbly beg Your Majesty to reply."

"That would be many millions given to the Revolution."

"Oh, Sire, they are not given yet. The general is sixty–five, but he has many years ahead of him, if you wish it. By the time he dies—a natural death, if you wish it—your enemies will have disarmed."

"My enemies!" murmured the Tsar in a low voice. "No, no; my enemies never will disarm. Who, then, will be able to disarm them?" added he, melancholily, shaking his head.

"Progress, Sire! If you wish it."

The Tsar turned red and looked at the audacious young man, who met the gaze of His Majesty frankly.

"It is kind of you to say that, my young friend. But you speak as a child."

"As a child of France to the Father of the Russian people."

It was said in a voice so solemn and, at the same time, so naively touching, that the Tsar started. He gazed again for some time in silence at this boy who, this time, turned away his brimming eyes.

"Progress and pity, Sire."

"Well," said the Emperor, "it is promised."

Rouletabille was not able to restrain a joyous movement hardly in keeping.

"You can ring now, Sire."

And the Tsar rang.

The reporter passed into a little salon, where he found the Marshal, Koupriane and Matrena Petrovna, who was "in a state."

She threw a suspicious glance at Rouletabille, who was not treated this morning as the dear little domovoi–doukh. She permitted herself to be conducted, already trembling, before the Emperor.

"What happened?" asked Koupriane agitatedly.

"It so happened, my dear Monsieur Koupriane, that I have the pardon of the Emperor for all the crimes you have charged against me, and that I wish to shake hands before I go, without any rancor. Monsieur Koupriane, the Emperor will tell you himself that General Trebassof is saved, and that his life will never be in danger any more. Do you know what follows? It follows that you must at once set Matiew free, whom I have taken, if you remember, under my protection. Tell him that he is going to make his way in France. I will find him a place on condition that he forgets certain lashes."

"Such a promise! Such an attitude toward me!" cried Koupriane. "But I will wait for the Emperor to tell me all these fine things. And your Natacha, what do you do with her?"

"We release her also, monsieur. Natacha never has been the monster that you think."

"How can you say that? Someone at least is guilty."

"There are two guilty. The first, Monsieur le Marechal."

"What!" cried the Marshal.

"Monsieur le Marechal, who had the imprudence to bring such dangerous grapes to the datcha des Iles, and—and—"

"And the other?" asked Koupriane, more and more anxiously.

"Listen there," said Rouletabille, pointing toward the Emperor's cabinet.

The sound of tears and sobs reached them. The grief and the remorse of Matrena Petrovna passed the walls of the cabinet. Koupriane was completely disconcerted.

Suddenly the Emperor appeared. He was in a state of exaltation such as had never been known in him. Koupriane, dismayed, drew back.

"Monsieur," said the Tsar to him, "I require that Natacha Feodorovna be here within the next two hours, and that she be conducted with the honors due to her rank. Natacha is innocent, and we must make reparation to her."

Then, turning toward Rouletabille:

"I have learned what she knows and what she owes to you—we owe to you, my young friend."

The Tsar said "my young friend." Rouletabille, at this last moment before his departure, spoke Russian?

"Then she knows nothing, Sire. That is better, Sire, because Your Majesty and me, we must forget right from to–day that we know anything."

"You are right," said the Tsar thoughtfully. "But, my friend, what am I to do for you?"

"Sire, one favor. Do not let me miss the train at 10:55."

And he threw himself on his knees.

"Remain on your knees, my friend. You are ready, thus. Monsieur le Marechal will prepare at once a brevet, which I will immediately sign. Meantime, Monsieur le Marechal, find me, in my own closet, one of my St. Anne's collars."

And it was thus that Joseph Rouletabille, of "L'Epoque," was created officer of St. Anne of Russia by the Emperor himself, who gave him the accolade.

"They combine the whole course of time in this country," thought Rouletabille, pressing his hand to his eyes to hold back the tears.

For the train at 10:55 everybody had crowded at Tsarskoie–Coelo station. Among those who had come from St. Petersburg to press the young reporter's hand when they learned of his impending departure were Ivan Petrovitch, the jolly Councilor of the Emperor, and Athanase Georgevitch, the lively advocate so well known for his famous exploits with knife and fork. They had come naturally with all their bandages and dressings, which made them look like glorious ruins. They brought the greetings of Feodor Feodorovitch, who still had a little fever, and of Thaddeus Tchitchnikoff, the Lithuanian, who had both legs broken.

Even after he was in his compartment Rouletabille had to drink his last drink of champagne. When nothing remained in the bottle and everyone had embraced and re–embraced him, as the train did not start quite yet, Athanase Georgevitch opened a second "last" bottle. It was then that Monsieur le Grand Marechal arrived, out of breath. They invited him to drink, and he accepted. But he had need to speak to Rouletabille in private, and he drew the reporter, after excuses, out into the corridor.

"It is the Emperor himself who has sent me," said the high dignitary with emotion. "He has sent me about the eider downs. You forgot to explain the eider downs to him."

"Niet!" replied Rouletabille, laughing. "That is nothing. Nitchevo! His Majesty's eider downs are of the finest eider, as one of the feathers that you have shown me demonstrates. Well, open them now. They are a cheap imitation, as the second feather proves. The return of the false eider downs, before evening, proves then that they hoped the substitution would pass undetected. That is all. Caracho! Collapse of the hoax. Your health! Vive le Tsar!"

"Caracho! Caracho!"

The locomotive was puffing when a couple were seen running, a man and a woman. It was Monsieur and Madame Gounsovski.

Gounsovski stood on the running–board.

"Madame Gounsovski has insisted upon shaking hands. You are very congenial."

"Compliments, madame."

"Tell me, young man, you did wrong to fail for dinner at my house yesterday."

"I would have certainly escaped a disagreeable little journey into Finland. I do not regret it, monsieur."