The Circassian Chief: A Romance of Russia. Kingston William Henry Giles
but that I ask not. No! go where glory and fame await you, and care not for me, for I feel that my course of life is well nigh run, and that the day of my freedom is at hand. Much more of anguish than you, Ivan, can possibly know, has my bosom borne; but the hour is not yet come when I may recount to you the tale of my woes.”
“To what secret woes do your words allude?” exclaimed Ivan, in agitation. “Oh, my more than mother! my protectress! my guardian angel! am I then incapable of protecting you, or at least of comforting you? Oh despise me not by concealing your sufferings from me!”
“Alas! your interference,” said the lady, despondingly, “would be of little avail; it might bring ruin on yourself, without improving my lot. No, no, loved one! I would not blight your happiness with my sorrow. You are on the eve of visiting Moscow; when there, mix in the world; seek all the enjoyment it can afford, though I fear me there is but little to be found. Yet I too was once blest with perfect happiness. You will return here, I learn, before you depart for the army, when I will relate all; till then, may your young heart be unseared by grief.”
“Oh! disclose your griefs to me now, dearest lady. Let me endeavour to console them; and let my devotion in your service prove my love. Surely the Baron, though severe and unjust at times to me, cannot – dare not, be so barbarous as to injure one so lovely and gentle as yourself.”
“I may not at present reveal to you my sad history,” replied the lady; “prudence demands that the veil should not yet be withdrawn. You know not what the Baron is. Time will display his nature.”
The lady and the youth were still indulging in their melancholy, yet interesting conversation, when they were suddenly interrupted by the appearance of Ladislau, looking like some woodland sprite, as, with alarm on his countenance, he rushed up to them through the mass of the shrubbery.
“Hist! hist!” he cried, but in a suppressed voice; “fly, Ivan, fly! off with you – begone! this is no place for you! Madam, pardon my intrusion. Fly, Ivan, fly! The Baron has returned; this moment I heard the tramp of his horse’s hoofs in the court-yard, and his voice raised in anger; so I hastened to warn you. He stormed and raged as usual. Yes, his high mightiness was storming like a tornado.”
The dwarf laughed in a shrill tone, and added, “He will undoubtedly come this way; and it would not calm his anger to find his son here instead of accompanying him in the chase of animals, less savage than himself. So fly, my friend, fly from hence; tarry not another moment. And I would recommend you too, Madam, to avoid him at present, if you wish not to bear the brunt of his fury, which has been excited by Ivan’s absence.”
Ivan respectfully raised the lady’s hand to his lips, and was bidding her farewell, when the dwarf exclaimed, “Haste, haste, or you will be discovered – see, here he comes;” and at that instant, the Baron was seen at a short distance, walking rapidly towards them. Ivan quickly retreated by an opposite path, fortunately unperceived by his father, while the Baron advanced towards the lady and dwarf, with a dark frown on his brow.
“So, ho, Madam,” he cried; “is it thus you abide by my injunctions not to move beyond your apartment? Be pleased forthwith to retire to your chamber, until I repair thither; I shall know how to correct this disobedience to my commands. Make no answer! go, Madam, at once!”
The lady spoke not, though her lip trembled with emotion, and there was a flush on her brow, as she turned to obey the Baron’s command, and walked calmly towards the château.
“And you, imp! what business of state brought you to the lady?” said the Baron, turning to the dwarf. “Doubtless, you have been laying some mischievous plans together. Have you lately seen Ivan, sir manikin?”
“Yes, most noble and potent Seigneur,” answered Ladislau; “I met him some time since, walking in solitary and meditative mood. I ventured not to interrupt the current of his thoughts. Can I be the bearer of any of your most gracious orders to him?”
“Yes, go find him, and say I desire his attendance,” said the Baron. “No, stay – I myself will seek him. In which direction went he, do you say?”
“In yonder avenue,” replied the dwarf, pointing to an opposite spot to the one he believed the youth was to be found in.
As the Baron walked quickly forward, he muttered to himself, “Can it be that she, whose stubborn soul would never bend to my will, should be captivated by this youth! By heavens! if I so find it, I will tear her limb from limb, and let the boy feast his eyes on the spectacle. Had the idea occurred to me before, he never should have returned here. He is capable of any deed; there is a bold, unruly spirit within him, which I must curb with a tight rein, or he will break loose even from me. He to be my rival, forsooth! here comes the audacious youth. By heavens! he has a right noble air, which may well win any woman’s love. I would destroy him at once, to prevent any further mischief; but then I lose the cherished object for which I nurtured him – no, no, that were worse than folly. He shall live to become the fierce soldier I would make him, and when he gains more of the spirit of the tiger, which he now somewhat lacks, I shall be content. He comes of a race, whose blood is strongly imbued with it, and in his it must exist also.”
By the time the Baron had arrived at the conclusion of this soliloquy, which vaguely hinted at his sinister schemes, his anger had been tempered, partly by the ideas of future triumph it awakened, partly by the cool perfumed breeze, which played within the shady walk. He had been unsuccessful that morning in the chase, which had raised his choler; and when he missed Ivan from his side, and ascertained on inquiry, that he had been seen riding in the direction of the château, his rage was greatly increased. On his return, he learned that his son had proceeded into the grounds, whither the lady had shortly before also been observed to go.
“I perceive, Sir,” he said on confronting his son, “that you prefer luxurious ease in shady bowers, to the hardy and noble exercise of hunting, in disobedience moreover to my wishes; but let me tell you, young man, such is but a bad promise of your future conduct in a military career; and you need not expect my countenance or support, during the continuance of such frivolities, and opposition to my will. I expect henceforth to find you foremost in danger, and ever prompt to endure hardships without murmur. Thus it was that I fought my way up the ladder of fame, and thus must you follow, if you desire advancement, and value a high name.”
“I trust, Sir, you will never find me remiss in my military duties,” answered Ivan.
“I have found you already deficient in its most essential branch;” angrily rejoined the Baron, then assuming a calmer tone, he added “you had some motive, and not a trifling one, which induced you to act contrary to my will this day; ah, you start! Beware, young man, should my suspicions prove correct, your fate is sealed! Again, I say, beware! My nature is such as will not be trifled with; prepare for your departure to-morrow for Moscow; that is a favour I grant you; so answer me not; you now know my will.”
Accustomed as he was to the authoritative tone of one who, in his mildest mood, never brooked a reply, Ivan’s lips moved with emotion, yet they uttered no sound, as the Baron turned away, and walked towards the mansion.
The dark hints which his father had let fall fixed Ivan to the spot in deep meditation; yet he could not settle in his mind to what they could allude, dismissing at once, as too preposterous, the real cause. Finally he came to the resolution of implicitly following his orders, though he would fain have tarried a few days longer in the chateau, to hold further intercourse with his sorrowful protectress. Then retiring to his chamber, to make the requisite preparations, he was soon joined by the dwarf.
As soon as he was informed of his friend’s banishment, tears fell from the little man’s eyes.
“Oh, Ivan,” he exclaimed, “my friend, my brother, my son – for you are each and all to me – I have experienced many cruel trials; but to part with you is severer than all combined. We may never meet again, for I fear the Baron will not allow you to return here; and I am growing so weary of this cruel world, that I expect not to remain much longer an inhabitant of it. Ivan, my dear boy, forget not Ladislau, for be assured his first and last daily thought will be of you.”
Ivan succeeded in soothing his little friend’s grief, by sincere assurances of his remembrance.