The Poacher; Or, Joseph Rushbrook. Фредерик Марриет
or any other botheration,” replied McShane, tossing off his glass.
“I don’t say so; but his having letters from the king’s brother will be considered suspicious.”
“The devil it will. Now in our country that would only create a suspicion that he was a real gentleman—that’s all.”
“You don’t understand this country,” replied Dimitri.
“No, it beats my comprehension entirely, and that’s a fact; so fill up your glass. I hope it’s not treason; but if it is, I can’t help saying it. My good friend Dimitri—”
“Stop,” said Dimitri, rising and shutting the door, “now, what is it?”
“Why, just this; I haven’t seen one good-looking woman since I’ve been in this good-looking town of yours; now, that’s the truth.”
“There’s more truth than treason in that,” replied the courier; “but still there are some beautiful women among the higher classes.”
“It’s to be hoped so; for they’ve left no beauty for the lower, at all events.”
“We have very beautiful women in Poland,” said the courier.
“Why don’t you bring a few here, then?”
“There are a great many Polish ladies in Petersburg at this moment.”
“Then go down and order another bottle,” said McShane, “and we’ll drink their healths.”
The second bottle was finished, and McShane, who had been drinking before, became less cautious.
“You said,” observed he, “that you have many Polish ladies in Petersburg; did you ever hear of a Princess Czartowinky?—I think that’s the name.”
“Czartorinski, you mean,” replied Dimitri; “to be sure I did; I served in the family some years ago, when the old prince was alive. But where did you see her?”
“In England, to be sure.”
“Well, that’s probable, for she has just returned from travelling with her uncle.”
“Is she now in Petersburg, my good fellow?”
“I believe she is—but why do wish to know?”
“Merely asked—that’s all.”
“Now, Macshanovich,”—for such was the familiar way in which Dimitri addressed his supposed brother-servant—“I suspect this Princess Czartorinski is some way connected with your master’s coming here. Tell me the truth—is such the case? I’m sure it is.”
“Then you know more than I do,” replied McShane, correcting himself, “for I’m not exactly in my master’s secrets; all that I do know is, that my master met her in England, and I thought her very handsome.”
“And so did he?”
“That’s as may be; between ourselves, I’ve an idea he was a little smitten in that quarter; but that’s only my own opinion, nothing more.”
“Has he ever spoken about her since you were here?” said Dimitri.
“Just once, as I handed his waistcoat to him; he said—‘I wonder if all the ladies are as handsome as that Polish princess that we met in Cumberland?’”
“If I thought he wished it, or cared for her, I would make inquiry, and soon find out all about her; but otherwise, it’s no use taking the trouble,” replied the courier.
“Well, then, will you give me your hand, and promise to serve faithfully, if I tell you all I know about the matter?”
“By the blessed Saint Nicholas, I do!” replied Dimitri; “you may trust me.”
“Well, then, it’s my opinion that my master’s over head and ears in love with her, and has come here for no other purpose.”
“Well, I’m glad you told me that; it will satisfy the police.”
“The police; why murder and Irish! you’re not going to inform the police, you villain?”
“Not with whom he is in love, most certainly, but that he has come here on that account; it will satisfy them, for they have no fear of a man that’s in love, and he will not be watched. Depend upon it, I cannot do a better thing to serve our master.”
“Well, then, perhaps you are right. I don’t like this champagne—get a bottle of Burgundy, Dimitri. Don’t look so hard—it’s all right. The captain dines out every day, and has ordered me to drink for the honour of the house.”
“He’s a capital master,” replied Dimitri, who had begun to feel the effects of the former bottles.
As soon as the third bottle was tapped, McShane continued—
“Now, Dimitri, I’ve given my opinion, and I can tell you, if my master has, as I suspect, come here about this young lady, and succeeds in obtaining her, it will be a blessed thing for you and me; for he’s as generous as the day, and has plenty of money. Do you know who she is?”
“To be sure I do; she is an only daughter of the late Prince Czartorinski, and now a sort of ward under the protection of the Emperor. She inherits all the estates, except one which was left to found an hospital at Warsaw, and is a rich heiress. It is supposed the emperor will bestow her upon one of his generals. She is at the palace, and a maid of honour to the empress.”
“Whew!” whistled McShane; “won’t there be a difficulty.”
“I should think so,” replied the courier, gravely.
“He must run away with her,” said McShane, after a pause.
“How will he get to see her?”
“He will not see her, so as to speak with her, in the palace; that is not the custom here; but he might meet her elsewhere.”
“To be sure, at a party or a ball,” said McShane.
“No, that would not do; ladies and gentlemen keep very apart here in general company. He might say a word or two when dancing, but that is all.”
“But how is he to meet her, when, in this cursed place of yours, if men and women keep at arm’s length?”
“That must depend upon her. Tell me, does she love him?”
“Well, now, that’s a home question: she never told him she did, and she never told me, that’s certain; but still I’ve an idea that she does.”
“Then all I can say, Macshanovich, is, that your master had better be very careful what he is about. Of course, he knows not that you have told me anything; but as soon as he thinks proper to trust me, I then will do my utmost in his service.”
“You speak like a very rational, sensible, intelligent courier,” replied McShane, “and so now let us finish the bottle. Here’s good luck to Captain O’Donahue, alive or dead: and now—please the fleas—I’ll be asleep in less than ten minutes.”
Chapter Fourteen
When McShane awoke the next morning he tried to recall what had passed between him and Dimitri, and did not feel quite convinced that he had not trusted him too much. “I think,” said he, “it was all upon an if. Yes, sure; if O’Donahue was in love, and if she was. Yes, I’m sure that it was all upon ifs. However, I must go and tell O’Donahue what has taken place.”
McShane did so; and O’Donahue, after a little thought, replied, “Well, I don’t know: perhaps it’s all for the best; for you see I must have trusted somebody, and the difficulty would have been to know whom to trust, for everybody belongs to the police here, I believe: I think, myself, the fellow is honest; at all events, I can make it worth his while to be so.”
“He would not have told me he belonged to the police if he wished to trap us,” replied McShane.
“That’s very true, and on the whole I think