Blackwood\'s Edinburgh Magazine, No. CCCXXXII. by Various

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The five who were to suffer death now ascended the scaffold, dressed in
coarse linen frocks, and with a sort of white hood over their heads.
They doubtless arrived from separate dungeons, for, as they met, they
were allowed to embrace one another. Immediately afterwards, a man went
up to them and said something, which was followed by a cheer from the
soldiers and others attending the execution. It was afterwards reported,
I know not with what truth, that this man was sent to offer them their
lives if they chose to beg them; but that they replied to the offer by
cries of Russia and Liberty!--cries that were rendered inaudible by the
hurras of the guards and attendants.

The executioners stepped forward, passed the halters round the necks of
the condemned, and pulled the hoods over their eyes. A neighbouring
clock struck the first quarter after four, and simultaneously with the
sound, a trap-door gave way under the feet of the culprits. There was a
great cry and much confusion, and a number of soldiers jumped upon the
scaffold.

Two of the ropes had snapped, and the unhappy men round whose necks they
had been fastened, had fallen through the scaffolding to the platform;
one of them had broken his thigh, and the other his arm. Ladders were
brought, and the sufferers carried up to the scaffold and laid upon
their backs, for they were unable to stand. In a few minutes new halters
were ready, and with the help of the executioners, the victims managed
to drag themselves under the gibbets. Their last words were, Russia and
Liberty! This time the ropes did their duty.

It was said, that when the Emperor was afterwards informed of this
incident, he was much vexed at its not having been immediately reported
to him; but nobody had dared take upon himself the responsibility of
suspending the execution.

It was now the turn of the exiles. Their sentence was read, declaring
them to have forfeited every thing, rank, possessions, orders, family,
all that bound them to the world, and the executioners then tore off
their epaulettes and decorations, which they threw into the fire. Then
taking the prisoners' swords from the soldiers who held them, they
seized them by the hilt and point, and broke them over their owners'
heads, exclaiming, as each snapped in two, "This is the sword of a
traitor!" This ceremony over, they were stripped of their uniforms,
which were replaced by coarse grey smock-frocks, and they were then led
back to prison. The evening of the same day they set out for Siberia.

I returned to Louise, whom I found on her knees, praying and weeping.
She looked at me as I entered the room as though afraid to interrogate
me; but I relieved her anxiety by informing her that all had passed as
announced in the _Gazette_. She raised her eyes to heaven with an
expression of pious gratitude.

After a pause, "How far is it from here to Tobolsk?" she enquired.

"About eight hundred leagues."

"It is not so far as I thought," was her observation. I looked at her
for a moment in silence. I began to suspect her intentions.

"Why do you ask the question?" enquired I.

"Can you not guess?"

"But, Louise, it is impossible, at least at this moment."

"Do not be uneasy, my friend. I know my duty to my child, and my
affection for its father shall not make me forget it. I will wait."

It was not without a motive that the Count's mother and sisters had been
anxious to obtain the earliest possible intelligence of his departure
from St Petersburg. The road from that capital to Tobolsk ran through
Iroslaw, a town about sixty leagues from Moscow, and they entertained
hopes of being able to see their son and brother as he passed. Their
passports were ready, and arrangements made; and as soon as they
received from my servant the news of the departure of the prisoners,
they got into a _kubiltka_, and without saying a word to any body of
their intentions, set out for Iroslaw.

Travelling is rapid in Russia; in less than twenty-four hours they
reached their destination, and learned with delight that the prisoners
had not yet passed. As their stay at Iroslaw might have excited
suspicion, they left that town, and took up their quarters in a small
village on the road, at a solitary cottage, near which the carriages
containing the exiles were to change horses. In all such cases in
Russia, the persons in charge of criminals are forbidden to stop or to
change horses in towns, or even in villages.

After waiting two days, a servant whom the Countess had stationed upon
the road to watch for the convoy, hastened to her with the news that the
first division of the prisoners had just arrived in five carriages, and
that the corporal in charge had sent men to fetch horses from the
village. The ladies got into their carriage, and set off at full gallop
for the cottage at which the convoy had halted. They stopped upon the
high-road opposite the hut, and gazed eagerly through the half-open door
of its only room. It was crowded with prisoners; but Alexis was not
amongst them.

In a quarter of an hour horses were brought; the prisoners re-entered
the carriage, which immediately set off.

Half an hour later the second division of the convoy arrived; but the
Count was not with it. The third, fourth, and fifth passed, each being
obliged to wait longer than the preceeding one for horses, those at the
post-house and in the immediate neighbourhood having all been taken.

It was some time after nightfall when the sixth and last division was
heard approaching. The poor women clasped their trembling hands
together. The much wished-for moment had arrived, yet their greatest
difficulty was to come. It was more than uncertain whether they would be
permitted to embrace their son and brother.

The convoy stopped, Alexis got out of the third carriage. In spite of
the darkness and of his ignoble garb, the Countess and her daughters
recognized him. One of the latter was about to call out his name; but
her mother placed her hand on her mouth in time to prevent the
imprudence, and the Count entered the cottage.

The corporal commanding the escort began enquiring about horses, and on
learning that they were scarce, he sent off his soldiers with orders to
seize all they could find in the name of the Emperor. The men departed,
and he remained alone with the prisoners. There was no danger of an
attempt at escape. In the heart of the Czar's immense dominions, whither
could a fugitive betake himself without a certainty of being overtaken,
or of dying from hunger before he reached the frontier?

Corporal Ivan remained then walking up and down in front of the cottage,
alternately whistling and floging his leathern overalls with his riding
whip, and occasionally stopping to gaze at the Countess's travelling
carriage, which was standing without horses in the road. Presently the
door of the vehicle opened, three ladies alighted and advanced towards
the corporal. Two of them remained a little behind, the third approached
him with clasped hands.

"My friend," said the Countess, "my son is amongst the prisoners you are
escorting; let me see him but for a moment, and name your own reward."

"It is impossible, madam," replied the corporal respectfully. "My orders
are strict to allow no one to communicate with the prisoners, and the
knout is the least I may expect if I transgress them."

"But who will know that you have transgressed them?" cried the Countess,
her voice trembling with eagerness and suspense. Her daughters stepped
forward, and joined their hands, as in supplication to the soldier.

"It is quite impossible, madam," repeated the man.

"My mother!" cried Alexis, pushing open the cottage door. He had heard
her voice, and in an instant was clasped in her arms.

The corporal made a movement as though to seize his prisoner; but at the
same moment the two young girls fell at his feet, and embracing his
knees, pointed to the touching spectacle before them.

Corporal Ivan was a good fellow in the main. He uttered something
between a sigh and a growl, and the sisters saw that their prayer was
granted.

"Mamma," said one of them in a low tone, "he will allow us to embrace
our brother." The Countess extricated herself from her son's arms, and
held out a heavy purse to the corporal.

"You risk a punishment for our sakes, my friend, and it is fair you
should be recompensed for it."

Ivan looked hard at the purse for a moment, then shaking his head and
putting his hands behind his back, "No, your ladyship," said he, "I am
committing a breach of duty, but it is not for gold. Here is the best
excuse I can give my judges, and if they don't accept it, God will;" and
he pointed to the two weeping girls. The Countess seized the soldier's
rough hand and pressed it to her lips.

"The horses cannot be here yet;" continued Ivan, "get into your carriage
and pull down the blinds. By that means nobody will see you, and I may
perhaps avoid making acquaintance with the knout."

"Thank you, corporal," said Alexis; "but at least take this purse.

"Take it yourself, lieutenant," said Ivan in a low voice, from habit
giving the Count a title to which he had no longer a right. "You will
find the use of it at the end of your journey."

"But on arriving they will search me."

"You can give it to me before the search, and I will return it to you.
But I hear the gallop of a horse; quick into the carriage!" The corporal
pushed Alexis into the carriage; the ladies followed, and he shut the
door upon them.

An hour elapsed, an hour of mingled joy and sorrow. At the expiration of
that time, the door opened, and Ivan appeared. "You must separate," said
he, "the horses are arriving."

"A few moments longer!" cried the ladies, with tearful voices.

"Not a second, or I am ruined. Go on to the next relay; it is dark, no
one will see you, and I sha'n't be punished more for twice than once."

"Oh! you will not be punished at all," cried the ladies; "surely God
will reward you."

"Hum," said the corporal doubtingly, and half pulling his prisoner out
of the carriage.

At the next relay, things went equally well. A third interview was
rendered impossible by the approach of day. The sad word _farewell_ was
pronounced, and the weeping women took the road to Moscow, having
previously arranged a plan of correspondence, and carrying with them a
few affectionate lines that Alexis had scrawled in pencil for Louise.

The Countess had ordered my servant to wait at Moscow till she returned,
and on her arrival there immediately dispatched him to St Petersburg. He
brought Louise the Count's note, and a letter from his mother, inviting
her to go to Moscow, for that she was impatient to embrace her as her
daughter.

Louise kissed her lover's note. She shook her head on reading the
Countess's letter, and smiled one of those sad smiles that were peculiar
to her. "I shall not go to Moscow," said she, "my place is elsewhere."

As I had suspected, Louise had resolved to join Count W---- at Tobolsk;
but she could not set out till after her confinement, which was to take
place in a couple of months. Meantime she busied herself with
preparations. By turning every thing she possessed into money, she got
together a sum of thirty thousand rubles. At her request, I applied to
my kind friend, Monsieur de Gorgoli, to obtain from the Emperor
permission for her to rejoin her lover. Her intentions had got wind in
St Petersburg, and every body spoke with admiration of the devoted
attachment of the young Frenchwoman. Many thought, however, that her
courage would fail her when the moment of departure arrived; but I knew
her better, and felt assured of the contrary.

At the commencement of September, she became the mother of a boy. I
wished her to write to the mother of Alexis to announce this event; but
she refused. The Countess heard of it, however, and wrote to Louise, to
say that she was expecting her with her child.

Her recovery was slow, the various emotions she had undergone during her
pregnancy having weakened her health. She would have left St Petersburg
long before she was strong enough to do so; but the permission to join
Count W---- was to come through me, and I refused to apply for it till
her medical attendant gave her leave to travel.

One morning the door of my apartment opened and Louise entered, her face
radiant with joy. "He will escape!" cried she.

"Who?"

"He--Alexis."

"How! Escape? It is impossible."

"Read that," she said and handed me a letter in the Count's
hand-writing. It was as follows:--"Dearest Louise--Place all confidence
in the bearer of this letter. He is more than my friend--he is my
saviour.

"I fell ill upon the road, and was obliged to stop at Perm. The
physicians declared I was not able to continue my journey, and it was
decided I should pass the winter in the prison of that town. As good
fortune would have it, the jailer's brother is an old servant of my
family and willing to aid my escape. He and his brother fly with me; but
I must have means of indemnifying them for what they give up on my
account, and for the risk they run. Give the bearer all the money and
jewels you possess. As soon as I am in safety I will write to you to
come and join me. Adieu. W----."

"Well," said I after reading the letter twice over, "what have you
done?"

"Can you ask the question?"

"What!" cried I. "You have given ...?"

"Every ruble I had," interrupted she.

"And if this letter were not from the Count? If it were a forgery?"

She changed colour, and snatched the paper from my hand.

"Oh, no!" said she. "I know his hand-writing. I cannot be mistaken."
But, on reading the letter again, I observed that she grew still paler.

"I do not think," I observed, "that Alexis would have addressed such a
demand to you."

"And why not? Who loves him better than I do?"

"Understand me rightly. For an act of friendship or devotion he would
have applied to _you_, but for money to his mother. I tell you again,
either I do not know Count W----'s character, or this letter is not
written by him."

"But what will become of me? I have given every thing I possessed."

"How did the Count usually sign his letters?"

"Alexis always."

"You see this one is signed W----. It is evidently a forgery and we must
immediately inform the police."

"And if we are mistaken? If it is not a forgery, by doing so I shall
prevent his escape. Oh, no! Better lose the money. I can manage without.
All that I am anxious to know is, whether he is at Perm."

It occurred to me, that I might easily ascertain this latter point
through a lieutenant of gendarmerie to whom I gave lessons; and begging
Louise to wait my return, I hastened to his quarters. I told him I had
particular reasons for wishing to know whether my friend W---- had
reached Tobolsk, and asked him if it were possible to ascertain. He
immediately sent an orderly for the non-commissioned officer who had
commanded the Count's division. Ten minutes afterwards, Corporal Ivan
entered the room; and, although I was not then aware of the service he
had rendered the Countess and her daughters, I was immediately
prepossessed in his favour, by his frank open countenance and soldierly
bearing.

"You commanded the sixth division of the prisoners lately sent to
Siberia?" enquired I.

"I did so, your excellency."

"Count W---- was in your division?"

The corporal hesitated, and did not seem much to like the question.

"Fear nothing," said I, "you are speaking to a friend, who would
sacrifice his own life for him. Tell me the truth, I beseech you. Was
Count W---- ill on the road?"

"Not the least."

"Did he stop at Perm?"

"Not even to change horses. I left him at Koslowo, a pretty little
village on the Irtich, twenty leagues from Tobolsk."

"You are sure of what you say?"

"Quite sure. I had a receipt from the authorities, which I delivered
over to his excellency the grand-master of police."

I now hastened to Monsieur de Gorgoli, and related all that had passed.
When I had finished--

"Is this young girl decided to go penniless, as she now is, to join her
lover in Siberia?"

"Quite decided, your excellency; and I am persuaded nothing will alter
her resolution."

"Then go, and tell her from me, that she shall have the permission."

I hurried back to Louise, and informed her of the result of my two
interviews. She appeared indifferent to the loss of her little fortune,
but overjoyed to learn that she would be allowed to join her lover. Her
only anxiety now was to obtain the requisite permission as soon as
possible.

Before leaving her, I placed at her disposal what money I had, which,
unfortunately, was only two or three thousand rubles; for I had, a short
time previously, remitted to France all that I had laid by during my
residence at St Petersburg.

The same evening I was at Louise's house, when one of the Emperor's
aides-de-camp was announced. He brought her a letter of audience for the
following day. Monsieur de Gorgoli had kept his word.

Early the following morning I called upon Louise, to accompany her to
the palace. I found her waiting for me, dressed in deep mourning, and
without a single ornament; but her pale, melancholy style of beauty, was
rather improved than impaired by the simplicity and sombre colour of her
attire.

At the palace gate we separated, and I awaited her return in the
carriage. On presenting her letter of audience, an officer on duty
conducted her to the Emperor's private cabinet, and desiring her to wait
there, left the room. She remained alone for about ten minutes, during
which time, she afterwards told me, she was more than once near fainting
away. At last a step was heard in the adjoining apartment; a door
opened, and the Emperor appeared. On seeing him, she, by a spontaneous
movement, fell upon her knees, and, unable to find words, clasped her
hands together in mute supplication.

"Rise!" said the Emperor kindly, advancing towards her. "I have been
already spoken to on the subject of your application. You wish for
permission to join an exile?"

"Yes, sire, if such a favour may be granted."

"You are neither his sister nor his wife, I believe?"

"I am his--friend, sire," replied poor Louise, a tinge of pink
over-spreading her pale cheek. "He must sadly need a friend."

"You know that he is banished for life to a country where there are
scarcely four months of spring, and the rest of the year is one dreary
winter?"

"I know it, sire."

"Do you know, also, that he has neither rank, fortune, nor title to
share with you--that he is poorer than the poorest mendicant in St
Petersburg?"

"Yes, sire."

"You have doubtless some fortune, some resources of your own?"

"Alas, sire, I have nothing! Yesterday I had thirty thousand rubles,
produced by the sale of all I possessed, but even that little fortune
was stolen from me."

"I know it. By a forged letter. It was more than a theft, it was a
sacrilege; and, should its perpetrator be detected, he shall be punished
as though he had broken open the poor-box in a church. But there are
means of repairing your loss?"

"How, sire?"

"Inform his family of the circumstance. They are rich, and will assist
you."

"I thank your Majesty; but I desire no assistance save that of God."

"But without funds how can you travel? Have you no friends who would
help you?"

"Pardon me, sire, but I am too proud to borrow what I could never repay.
By selling what little property I have left, I shall raise two or three
hundred rubles."

"Scarcely sufficient for a quarter of the journey. Do you know the
distance from here to Tobolsk, my poor girl?"

"Yes, sire--about eight hundred French leagues."

"And how will you get over the five or six hundred leagues you will
still have to travel when your last ruble is spent?"

"There are towns on the road, sire. When I reach a town I will work till
I have enough to continue my journey to the next."

"That may do as far as Perm," replied the Emperor; "but after that you
have the Ural mountains, and you are at the end of Europe. After that
nothing but a few scattered villages; no inns upon the road; large
rivers without bridges or ferries, and which must be traversed by
dangerous fords, whence men and horses are frequently swept away."

"Sire, when I reach the rivers they will be frozen; for I am told that
in those regions the winter begins earlier than at St Petersburg."

"What!" cried the Emperor, astonished, "do you think of setting out
now--of performing such a journey in winter?"

"It is during the winter that _his_ solitude must be most intolerable."

"It is impossible. You must be mad to think of it."

"Impossible if your Majesty so wills it. No one can disobey your
Majesty."

"_I_ shall not prevent it; but surely your own reason, and the immense
difficulties of such an undertaking, will."

"Sire! I will set out to-morrow."

"But if you perish on the road?"

"If I perish, sire, he will have lost nothing, for I am neither his
mother, his daughter, nor sister, but only his mistress--that is, a
woman to whom society gives no rights, and who must consider herself
fortunate if the world looks upon her with no harsher feeling than
indifference. But if I _am_ able to join him, I shall be _every thing_
to him--mother, sister, family, and friends. We shall be two to suffer
instead of one, and that fearful exile will lose half its terrors. You
see, sire, I _must_ rejoin him, and that as soon as possible."

"You are right," said the Emperor, looking fixedly at her, "and I no
longer oppose your departure."

He rang; an aide-de-camp appeared.

"Is Corporal Ivan in attendance?"

"He waits your Majesty's orders."

"Let him come in."

The aide-de-camp bowed, and disappeared. Two minutes afterwards the door
reopened, and Corporal Ivan stepped into the room, then halted, upright
and motionless, one hand on the seam of his overalls, the other to the
front of his schako.

"Draw near," said the Emperor, in a stern voice.

The corporal made four paces to the front, and relapsed into his former
position.

"Nearer!"

Four more paces, and Ivan was close to the Emperor's writing-table.

"You are Corporal Ivan?"

"Yes, sire."

"You commanded the escort of the sixth division?"

"Yes, sire."

"You had orders to allow the prisoners to communicate with no one?"

This time the corporal's tongue seemed embarrassed by something, and his
affirmative was uttered in a less steady tone than the preceding ones.

"Count Alexis W---- was one of the prisoners in your division, and in
spite of your orders you allowed him to have two interviews with his
mother and sisters. You knew the punishment you exposed yourself to by
so doing?"

Ivan grew very pale, and was forced to support himself against the
table.

"Pardon, sire!" gasped he.

Louise seemed about to speak, but a motion of the Emperor's hand warned
her to remain quiet. After a moment's silence--

"You are pardoned," said the Emperor.

The soldier drew a deep breath. Louise uttered an exclamation of joy.

"Where did you leave Count W----?"

"At Koslowo, your Majesty."

"You will set off again, and escort this lady thither."

"Oh, sire!" exclaimed Louise, who began to understand the Emperor's
feigned severity,

"You will obey her in all respects, consistently with her safety, for
which you answer to me with your head; and if, on your return, you bring
me a letter from her, saying that she is satisfied with your conduct,
you shall be made sergeant."

"Thanks, father," said Ivan, forgetting for a moment his military
stiffness, and falling upon his knees. The Emperor gave him his hand to
kiss, as he was in the habit of doing to the lowest of his subjects.
Louise was going to throw herself at his feet and kiss his other hand,
but the Emperor stopped her.

"You are indeed a true and admirable woman," said he. "I have done all I
can for you. May God bless and protect you!"

"Oh, sire!" exclaimed Louise, "how can I show my gratitude!"

"When you pray for your child," said the Emperor, "pray also for mine."
And waving his hand kindly to her, he left the room.

When Louise returned home she found a small packet that had been sent
from the Empress during her absence. It contained thirty thousand
rubles.

It had been arranged that I should accompany Louise as far as Moscow, a
city that I was desirous of visiting, and thence she would pursue her
journey under Ivan's escort. The day after her interview with the
Emperor, we started in a carriage that Ivan brought, and the combined
strength and elegance of which surprised me, until I observed on a
corner of the pannel the mark of the imperial stables. It was an
excellent travelling berline, lined throughout with fur. Ivan was
provided with an order, by virtue of which post-horses would be
furnished us the whole of the journey, at the Emperor's expense. Louise
got into the carriage with her child in her arms; I seated myself beside
her, Ivan jumped on the box, and in a few minutes we were rattling along
the Moscow road.

Louise was received with open arms by the Countess W---- and her
daughters. The nature of her connexion with Alexis was lost sight of and
forgotten in the devotion and disinterestedness of her attachment. A
room was prepared for her in the Countess's house; and, however anxious
the Count's mother and sisters were that he should have society and
consolation in his exile, they nevertheless entreated her to pass the
winter at Moscow, rather than run the risk of so long a journey during
the bad season that was approaching. But Louise was inflexible. Two days
were all she would consent to remain. She was forced, however, to leave
her child in charge of its grandmother, for it would have been madness
to have done otherwise.

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