Читать книгу Ivan the Serf - Austin C. Burdick - Страница 4

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INTO one of the strongest dungeons of the prison was Count Ruric thrown, and Menzikoff himself took the keys. The young noble knew that his fate was sealed so far as any will of the emperor was concerned, and he knew that his fault was one that would not be overlooked. The old prince had, on his part, taken every precaution in his power, for he knew that the young count had numerous friends, and he felt sure that some of them might even dare to attempt his rescue if they had opportunity. The afternoon passed slowly, heavily away, and as the gloom of night began to gather about the cold, damp prison-house, the young man's spirits sank within him. He sat down upon the low stone bench that projected from the wall, and bowing his head he called up the images of the past. He remembered the mother who used to smile upon him, and he could almost fancy that he heard her sweet voice now, sounding as it did of yore, to calm the youthful passions of his soul. And he remembered his father—the brave, generous man who was prodigal only in charity—and once more he heard those words of counsel which had been the foundation of his own life. And he remembered a sister, too, with whom he used to laugh and prattle. And there was a little brother who, years ago, came to shed a ray of sunshine across his path. But the grave had closed over them all! He alone was left of all his family—and how long should it be ere he, too, should pass away into that land of shades whither his kindred had gone before him. He knew that there would be some to regret his loss when he was gone, but he would leave none to mourn for him as kin do mourn for kin.

The hours passed on—the deep darkness of night was full upon the earth—and the only sound that broke the death-like stillness was an occasional cry from the distant sentinels, and the scratching of the rats that worked in the prison walls. Feodor had wept some—he had wept when he thought of the death-scenes he had witnessed in his own family—but now the thought of re-union had come to him, and he had sunk into a state of prayerful meditation.

The hours passed on. The brazen tongue upon the distant cathedral had told the hour of midnight, and yet Ruric had not thought of sleep. Once, just at the stroke of twelve, an officer put his head in at the door to see that all was safe. The count recognized him as one attached to Menzikoff's staff, and he asked him if he could not have some refreshment.

"Not to-night," returned the visitor, hesitating at the door.

"But I have had nothing since the morning. Let me have a drop of wine."

"Not to-night. If you need it in the morning, perhaps you can have it."

"I may not need it in the morning," said the count, in a thoughtful tone. "But stay," he added, as his visitor turned once more to close the door. "Am I to be shot to-morrow?"

"Yes."

"At what time?"

"At noon, so I heard the prince say. He will send you a priest in the morning."

The officer withdrew as he spoke, and locked and bolted the door after him, and once more Ruric was alone. The distant clock told the hour of one, and the count had almost sunk into a dreamy slumber, when he thought he heard footsteps in the passage that led to his cell. He started up and listened, and he was sure that he was correct. It might be some one bringing him the refreshment he had asked for, he thought, and moving back to his seat he sat down again, for the chain that confined him was so heavy that he stood with difficulty. At length the bolts upon the outside were slowly moved back, and the key was turned in the lock. A strange sensation crept through the young man's frame as he heard that key move, for he noticed that it was moved with the utmost caution, giving back hardly a sound to tell that the bolt was giving up its hold. In a moment more the door was slowly opened, and the prisoner could hear that some one had entered, though he could not even catch an outline through the thick darkness.

"—sh! Speak not a word!" whispered a voice which Ruric could not recognize, but which nevertheless seemed to have a welcome sound to it.

The count started again to his feet, and just as he did so, the rays of a lamp flashed upon him which came from a lantern his strange visitor had opened. As soon as Ruric could bear the glare of the light, he gazed upon the form and feature of him who had so unexpectedly presented himself. It was a tall, stout man, somewhat past the meridian of life, and dressed in the garb of a serf. His complexion was quite dark, and his hair, which must have once been as black as night, was well sprinkled with silver. His countenance denoted a vast degree of firmness, but yet 'twas kind.

"Who are you?" asked Ruric, as soon as he had taken a hasty survey of the man.

"My name is Ivan, and I am a serf of the prince Alexander Menzikoff."

"I have seen you."

"Ay, count, you have seen me often."

"And I have heard much of you, too," said the young man.

"Ah," uttered the serf, with an inquisitive gesture.

"Yes. I have heard much of your skill in military engineering. I suppose I am correct?"

"Yes," returned Ivan, setting his lantern down upon the stone floor, and taking a moderate sized, flat bundle from beneath his coarse drugget shirt. "Yes—so Menzikoff sometimes employs me."

"And he has sent you to me with food, has he not?" asked Ruric, the reception of refreshment being the only hope he now had, since he found out who was his visitor.

"Not exactly," returned the serf, in peculiar tone and emphasis. "Menzikoff would sooner send the headsman or the knout. No, no, Feodor Ruric, I have come of my own accord."

"And wherefore?" quickly asked the prisoner.

"Wherefore should the oppressed seek each other but for aid?" returned the serf, standing erect and gazing full upon the count. "I know what Russian oppression is. I feel it in every bone—in every nerve. I know what it is to suffer with a proud heart. I know, too, sir, how slight and fragile is the thread of the true man's life in the empire. Count Ruric, I have come to set you free."

"To set me free! You—a serf! Come to snatch me from death?" uttered Ruric, incoherently.

"Ay, for serf though I be, yet I have heard of you, and I know you to be one not deserving of death. Do you wish to flee?"

"I do not think the emperor will pardon me," muttered Ruric, half to himself.

"Nor do I," returned Ivan, "for his mind is most bitterly poisoned against you. Menzikoff hates you—he hates you with a perfect hatred, and he has determined to ruin you."

"But why should he hate me? Surely I never did aught against him, even in thought."

"He hates you as Satan hates the saints. He hates you because others love you—because you are better than he is; and far more than all else, because you are braver than his son, and have received more marked distinction, and he has resolved to destroy you; but in the present instance he has found the chance without seeking it, only you may be assured that he will not fail to make the most of it."

"And why should you come to save me?" asked Ruric, giving way to a spirit of curiosity, for there was much to excite curiosity in the speech and bearing of the serf.

"You should not stop to question me on that point," returned Ivan. "Suffice it for you to know that I have come to save you, and perhaps you may at some time know me better if you follow my instructions. Will you go with me?"

"Most assuredly I will, if you are sure that you can lead me safely away from here."

"That I can do easily. I managed to get the keys of the prison from Menzikoff's own room, and you may rest assured that the guards are now all asleep upon their posts. They drank more than wine to-night, for I handled their drink. Come, here is a seaman's dress. It is large enough to slip on over your own. Put it on quickly, for we have little time to lose."

Then Ivan knocked off the chains, and Ruric began to put on the rough dress which the serf had provided, and as he did so he had time to reflect somewhat upon what had transpired. Of one thing he felt morally sure, and that was, that Ivan had really come to save him; but why he had come was not so apparent, though the count fancied there must be some hidden motive. In regular sequence came the thought of where he should find refuge after he had got clear of the prison.

"Ivan," he said, with this thought upon his mind, "how far do you mean to guide me?"

"Farther than you probably imagine," was the rather old reply. "But get you ready, and we will talk of that as we move clear of present danger."

"I am ready now," responded the count, as he placed the glazed hat upon his head, and made a movement as though he would shake himself into the strange clothes he had donned.

"Then come. Tread carefully, now, and keep close at my heels, for though the sentries may sleep, yet danger never sleeps in Russia. Come."

Ivan led the way out from the cell, and Ruric followed. The iron door was reclosed and locked, and the serf placed the keys back in his pocket, and as soon as he reached the steps that led up to the entrance door he closed his lantern and hid it beneath his shirt.

"See," whispered the guide, as he pointed to where a dusky form could be seen reclining against the wall, "that fellow dreams not of danger, and I think he sleeps too soundly to dream of anything."

Ruric merely glanced at the sleeping soldier, and without making any reply he hastened on. The prison yard was somewhat wide, but it was traversed in safety, and at the outer gate they met another sleeping sentry. The self had a key to the wicket, and in a few short moments more, Ruric was in the street. He felt the fresh air of heaven, and it was grateful to him, but a shudder ran through his soul when he thought that the presence of one of his fellow-men—one with whom he had been wont to associate—could never be enjoyed again beneath the breeze of his native land without danger. But another train of thought ran through his mind—he remembered that he had none of kin in Russia—that he could live at best but in the breeze of favor that might at any moment change into a deadly simoon—and he felt not so much of grief at the separation.

At length they reached a secluded spot near the lower end of the great quay, and here Ivan stopped. At a short distance lay a small lighter-built craft, and Ruric thought he saw one upon her deck. He mentioned the circumstance to his companion, but an assuring nod of the head was the only reply. The serf cast his eyes about him in all directions, and then laying his hand upon the count's arm, he spoke:

"Feodor Ruric, I am your friend. You have no kindred in Russia, and I know that you had better form attachments somewhere else. I can see in your soul what others have only imagined. I can see that you have more of the spirit of republicanism in your soul than would ever be safe here. Nicholas likes brave men, but he wants those men all changed to instruments which he can hold in his own hand. Menzikoff has told him of some of your republican speeches at the festive board, and——"

"My republican speeches!" uttered Ruric, somewhat surprised.

"Yes, for you have spoken them when you knew it not. They are the natural growth of such a heart as yours. You may have thought that you paid all allegiance to the emperor, but yet you never respected the regime under which you have served. Your soul has longed for something more noble than the atmosphere of tyrants and kneeling serfs."

"So it has—so it has," murmured the count, first giving a thought to his own feelings, and gazing with wonder upon the serf who spoke such words of truth. He now knew indeed that Ivan was at least an extraordinary man, be he an occupant of what social sphere he might. "So I have," repeated the young noble. "I have indeed felt how little of true humanity finds a place in the empire."

"I know it," resumed the serf. "I know it well. But time is passing, and you must be off before your escape is discovered. Now you must place yourself wholly under my guidance. This small vessel is going down the gulf, and she will land you at Kolganp. The captain is a man to be trusted, and he has his orders, and you will find it to your advantage to trust him implicitly."

"But where shall I find a final refuge? I cannot remain at Kolganp."

"Of course not; but the captain will find you a hiding-place there, until he can get you a passage to the Levant. Here is a packet in which you will find full instructions for your future course, and if you hope for peace and happiness hereafter, you will follow them out. Your father, when he lived, once did me a great service, and I will now repay him by being kind to his son. Take the packet, and read it after you have got safely on your way. Come, we will go on board."

Ivan turned towards the small vessel as he spoke, and Ruric followed him. The captain was upon the deck, but it was too dark to distinguish his features. There were one or two men forward, but they could only be seen in outline.

"Ludowitz," said the serf, addressing the commander of the craft, "have you got your sailing permit?"

"Yes. It's all right. I am at liberty to go when I please."

"Good. This is the young man of whom I spoke to you this evening, and if you owe me aught for the kindness I have shown you, you will be faithful in this. Get him the first passage to the Levant you can. His money is safe."

"Yes."

"Ruric," said the serf, turning to the count, "I have made rather free with your money bags. I went to your house this evening, and obtained four thousand ducats in golden imperials. Our friend Ludowitz has them, and of course they are at your service. Now go. Follow the instructions of the packet, and you shall be happy."

"But one word," exclaimed the count, to whom all this was passing more like a dream than a reality. "When shall I see you again? When shall I know what all this means—the secret of this strange movement?"

"If we both live it shall not be many years, and perhaps not many months. But when we do meet again, I shall come to you. Be faithful to my instructions, and all shall be well. Adieu, now, and may God bless you."

The serf turned, and was gone. Ruric heard his steps as they grew faint in the distance, and when he could hear them no more, he bowed his head upon his hands and sank into a puzzling, wandering mood of thought.

"Don't fear, sir," said Ludowitz, "for I will do the best I can for you. The run to Kolganp will be safe enough, and I think there will be no trouble beyond there. Take heart, sir. I knew your trials."

The captain stopped to hear no reply, but turning to his men, whom he had ordered up from below, he proceeded at once to get under-weigh, and ere long the light vessel was making her way out from the mouth of the Neva. Feodor Ruric saw the last dim outlines of the island shore, and then he sought a place of rest, for he was nearly overcome by the fatigue and excitement through which he had passed.