The Vagrant Duke | Page 4

of voices singing the Russian version of the "Marseillaise." The Grand Duke stood at the terrace wall watching their approach. He knew that if they meant to attack the Castle the gate could not hold long, but he had hope that he might still be able to prevail upon them to listen to him. In a moment they saw him and began running forward toward the courtyard gate. He recognized individuals now--Anton Lensky, Michael Kuprin, with his head tied in a dirty handkerchief--and Conrad Grabar. The defection of his old instructor in wood-lore disturbed him. Conrad must have known what was to happen and he had said nothing. If Conrad had turned against him, what hope had he of prevailing against the others?
The singing died away and in its place, shouts and cries burst forth in a bedlam. "Open the gate!" "Let us in!"
The Grand Duke had heard that note in men's voices in the Carpathian passes, and he knew what it meant, but while his gaze sought out the fat figure of Michael Kositzin who was the leader of the uprising, he held up his hand for silence.
There was a roar of voices.
"Peter Nicolaevitch wishes to speak."
"It is our turn to speak now."
"Nasha pora prishl��," (our time has come).
"Let the little master speak."
"We know no little masters here!"
"No, nor old ones!"
"Smiert Bourjouiam" {Death to the bourgeoisie).
But as the young Grand Duke began to speak the voices of the most rabid of the peasants were hushed for a moment by the others.
"My friends and my children" he began, "one word before you do something that you will forever regret. I am your friend. I am young--of the new generation. I have kept abreast of the new thought of the time and I believe in the New Life that is for you and for us all. I have proved it to you by bringing the New Life to Zukovo by peaceful means, by friendliness and brotherhood while other parts of Russia near by are in agony and darkness." {Cries of "That is true") "It was in my heart that I had brought the Revolution to Zukovo, a Revolution against the old order of things which can be no more, implanting in you the strong seeds of Peace and Brotherhood which would kill out the ugly weeds of violence and enmity."
Here a hoarse voice rang out: "Fire--only fire can clean." Then the reply of a woman, "Yes, Tovaristchi, it is the only way."
Peter Nicholaevitch tried to seek out the speakers with his gaze. One of them was Michael Kuprin whom when a child the Grand Duke had seen flogged in this very courtyard.
"There are sins of the past," he went on, raising his voice against the low murmur of the mob, "many sins against you, but one sin does not wash out another. Murder, rapine, vengeance will never bring peace to Zukovo.
What you do to-day will be visited on you to-morrow. I pray that you will listen to me. I have fought for you and with you--with Gleb Saltykov and Anton Lensky, against the return of Absolutism in Russia. The old order of things is gone. Do not stain the new with crime in Zukovo. I beseech you to disperse--return to your homes and I will come to you to-morrow and if there are wrongs I will set them right. You have believed in me in the past. Believe in me now and all may yet be well in Zukovo. Go, my friends, before it is too late--"
The crowd wavered, murmuring. But just then a shot rang out and the cap of the Grand Duke twitched around on his head.
A roar went up from near the gate, "Nasha pora prishl��! Break in the gate!'" cried the voices and there were those of women among them shouting "Tovaristchi! Forward!"
Over the heads of those in the front ranks, Peter Nicholaevitch saw some men bringing from the forest the heavy trunk of a felled pine tree. They meant to break down the gate. He knew that he had failed but still he stood upright facing them. Another shot, the bullet this time grazing his left arm. The sting of it angered him.
"Cowards!" he yelled, shaking his fist at them. "Cowards!"
A volley followed but no other bullets struck him. Behind him in the Castle doorway he heard the voice of Boris Rylov, calling to him hoarsely.
"Come, Master. For the love of God! There is yet time."
There was a crash of the heavy timbers at the gate.
"Come, Master--"
With a shrug Peter Nicholaevitch turned and walked across the terrace toward the Castle. "Bolvany!" he muttered. "I've finished with them."
Boris and Vasil stood just within the door, pleading with him to hurry, and together they made their way through the deserted kitchens and over past the vegetable gardens to