THE BALLET DANCER'S HUSBAND.
19
dreamers—ideas wliich you bave brought from
France."
"And yet those you style dreamers have
made France what she is—the foremost nation
of the world!"
"Bah!" exclaimed the general. "Then you
love France?"
" Next to my own country, sir."
"Very well; we will discuss this subject no
further. I repeat that your situation is ex-
tremely critical, but you can ameliorate it by a
confession. I do not promise you a pardon,
for that has been granted you too often already;
but, if you will conceal nothing, I will promise
to try and induce the czar to substitute exile
for the transportation to Siberia, which you so
richly deserve. Answer now: who were the
instigators of this last revolt?"
" The men you murdered in my house," re-
plied the countess.
" Were there no others?"
"No."
" My information, however, leads me to be-
lieve that Korsak and his sons were to have in-
troduced a certain number of your peasants into
the Faubourg de Praga; also, that three Ber-
nardine monks, who were captured with weap-
ons in their hands, were the bearers of letters
from you; and finally, we have documents here
which prove that aid was given by the nobility
of Podolie, Volhynie, and the leading cities of
the kingdom."
The countess, thinking that the general made
this last assertion merely for the purpose of ex-
torting from her the names of her accomplices,
replied:
" I know of no such papers."
"Examine these," said the general, "and
then tell me if there were no other instigators
of this revolt than those who are dead."
As he spoke, he pushed the papers he had
been holding across the table to the countess.
Wanda glanced at them abstractedly, then sud-
denly she began to finger them with feverish
impatience. She could doubt no longer; the
papers she held were those she had intrusted to
her lover,—those that Lewinski had told her
were burned. Not a single one was missing.
The unfortunate woman had been betrayed,
and her despair was increased by the knowl-
edge that she was the cause of the ruin and
death of all the bravest and most powerful of
her country's defenders. She could scarcely
believe her eyes; and, thinking that she must
either be dreaming or going mad, she faltered:
"How did you obtain these papers, prince?"
The reply crushed her.
" We did not obtain them," the prince an-
swered.    " We bought them."
"Bought them!" repeated the countess, ut-
terly at a loss, " and of whom?"
" Of the man to whose keeping you intrusted
them."
" The man!—what man?"
She thought the prince meant Lewinski.
" The Viscount de Saint-Bertrand, your
lover," replied Rogatchef unfeelingly.
Wanda could endure no more. She rose as
if violently lifted from the floor, and clasping
her hands, exclaimed:
"Ah! wretch!"
Then she fell back, fainting.
A physician was summoned, and she was
soon restored to consciousness; then she sobbed
and entreated God to pardon her for her sins,
declaring that she had been too severely pun-
ished. She could not doubt the truth of Rogat-
chef's words. Why should her former lover
have told Lewinski that the papers had been
destroyed, had it not been that having sold
them it was impossible for him to return them.
The horror inspired by this infamous act was
so intense that her sorrow was momentarily for-
gotten.
Something like compassion was visible in the
countenance of the marshal; he leaned toward
Rogatchef, and whispered a few words; but the
prince shook his head, and as soon as the
countess became a trifle more composed he re-
sumed his examination.
" Do you still refuse to give the names of his
accomplices?" he asked.
"Yes," replied the countess. "These docu-
ments are all spurious. You yourselves have
fabricated them."
The governor could not repress a threatening
gesture.
"Take care, madame," he exclaimed; "we
are armed with unlimited power, and it depends
on us alone whether you end your days in
Siberia,"
" I am no stranger to Siberia," retorted
Wanda. "I was born there; I was married
there; God grant that I may die there."
"But there are more humiliating punish-
ments, particularly for a woman," said Rogat-
chef, grinding his teeth in his rage.
"You mean the knout," said Wanda. "I
know that, too, by tradition. My mother's
body, like that of my Saviour, was lacerated by
it."
Rogatchef bounded from his chair.
" You are a most extraordinary and mon-
strous example of ingratitude. What! you
whose family have all been conspirators; you,
who have spent the greater part of your life in
plotting treason; you who have been spared a
dozen times already, on being again offered
clemency respond only by most unseemly
bravado. You are absolutely unworthy of
mercy or justice, or-----"
Wanda interrupted him.
"If I have been spared, as you say," she
remarked, "it was not for humanity's sake.
It was only because there was a better chance
of capturing my accomplices if 1 was allowed
to remain at liberty."
The prince actually stamped in his rage.
What Wanda had just said was true; he knew
this, but he did not wish to hear it.
"We know the names of your accomplices
now," he exclaimed.
" Then what do you desire of me?" asked
Wanda.
Rogatchef was suffocating with rage. He
had not yet broached the subject upon which
he really desired information, and the turn the
discussion had taken gave him little hope of
success. The chief of police, seeing his embar-
rassment, came to his assistance.
" What we desire of you," that official said,
addressing AVanda, "is a mere trifle. In the
file of papers before you is a list written in
cipher, the key to which, I frankly confess, we
have not yet been able to discover. Read this
list to us; and if, as we suppose, it contains the
names of those implicated in the conspiracy,
we promise, upon our honor, to have the sen-
tence of transportation, which you deserve to
have, commuted to that of exile."
On hearing these words Wanda could not
conceal her joy. So it was in her power to
save some of the victims! She glanced rapidly
over the papers, and soon found the list. It
was that of the most influential Jews in Poland,
who, for the first time since the dismemberment
of the kingdom, had taken part in any of the
conspiracies against the government of the czar.
This was the paper Lewinski had desired to ob-
tain from Saint-Bertrand, and the loss of which
had prevented the Jews from taking part in the
late revolt, for Wanda was unable to rewrite the
list, which contained seven or eight hundred
names, from memory. It will be remembered
that Lewinski, on hearing of the destruction of
this paper, manifested extreme disappointment
and annoyance.
The three judges watched the countess as she
glanced over tbe list, pretending all the while to
be making a strenuous effort to recollect the
key. Finally Prince Rogatchef, unable to re-
strain his impatience any longer, asked if she
would soon come to a decision."
" Certainly," replied Wanda.
"Well?" exclaimed the three men in the
same breath.
Wanda's only response was to tear the paper
into fragments, and toss it into the enormous
stove in which a great fire was blazing.
"That is my decision," she cried, triumph-
antly; and as Rogatchef, beside himself with
anger, advanced toward her threateningly, she
continued:
" You must think me base and cowardly if
you suppose I would knowingly betray a single
one of my accomplices. You wish to know
those implicated in this conspiracy. I will tell
you. They are all the inhabitants of Poland,
men and women, grandsires and children, all
who have a mind to reason, a conscience to
judge, a heart to hate or to love, all such loathe
you", all such are hostile to you. You may
decimate entire generations, take them from
their native land under pretext of conscription
or measures of public safety, but as long as a
voice is heard between the Vistula and the
Dnieper, it will speak only to curse you, to re-
proach you for your broken pledges, your mur-
ders and your robberies. And if the God who
hears me, for some strange and incomprehensi-
ble reason of His own, permits this last voice
to be stifled—ah, well! you may then reign over
Poland, but you will never reign over the
Poles. Ah, accursed of the earth, you were
never made to civilize nations, but only to sub-
jugate deserts."
Rogatchef would hear no more. To see him-
self, the military governor of Varsovie, openly
defied, and by a woman, was too much! He
rang; a gendarme opened the door.
" Take her away!" he cried.
The next day Wanda was led back to the
same council chamber. She at first supposed
that she was to be subjected to a new examina-
tion, but the solemn air assumed by the judges
soon convinced her that something extraordi-
nary was to take place, and in a few moments
Prince Rogatchef rose and read her sentence.
The Countess Wanda was stripped of her rank,
her property was confiscated, and she was con-
demned to be transported to Siberia.
This ceremony concluded, she was taken back
to her cell.
The next morning, at break of day, the door
of her cell opened, and she was ordered to de-
scend to the court-yard, where a sledge was in
waiting. She seated herself in it between two
gendarmes, and the gates of the fortress were
opened for its passage. The fresh, keen air
of the early morning stung Wanda's face, and
stars were still gleaming in the sky. She passed
her elegant home, now closed and deserted, and
soon the last houses of the city vanished in the
distance behind her.
CHAPTER  XV.
THE  OSTROG.
While these events were in progress in Var-
sovie, the Viscount de Saint-Bertrand was jour-
neying toward Vienna. At that time, 1844, and
especially in winter, one could not travel with
the rapidity and ease of to-day. It took Saint-
Bertrand twelve days to reach the capital of
Austria. From this city there were two routes
leading to Moscow. One, the most frequented,
lay through Cracovie and Varsovie; the other,
much longer and more fatiguing, led one first to
the mouth of the Danube, then across the Black
Sea to Odessa, and finally through the province
of Kherson up to the center of the empire.
No traveler, unless obliged to do so by busi-
ness, would think for an instant of taking this
last route. Nevertheless, it was the one chosen
by Saint-Bertrand, who had good and sufficient
reasons for not showing himself in Poland ; for
on his arrival in Vienna he heard of the out-
break in Varsovie, and he considered that one
more imperative reason for avoidance of the
most direct route. After resting half a day, he
embarked on the Danube, and sailed down the
river as far as Galatz, where he took passage on
another steamer for Odessa. On reaching that
port, he allowed his wife to rest a couple of
days, for she had suffered considerably from
seasickness; then they started in a comfortable,
closely-covered sledge for Moscow, which they
expected to reach in about a fortnight. Their
sledge, drawn by three horses, glided smoothly
over the surface of the snow, which was as
hard and smooth as a mirror. They experienced
no vexatious delays, for the general superin-
tendent of the Russian theaters had made every
possible arrangement for their comfort, and
they found excellent horses awaiting them at
every station, and they were everywhere re-
ceived with the greatest courtesy.
They had already spent thirteen days in their
sledge, and had traversed interminable forests,
frozen lakes, and barren steppes, when they
reached the little village of Zaraïsk, about thirty
miles from Moscow, and here for the first time
their patience was tried. There were no horses
at the station. The master of the post was pro-
fuse in his apologies; they were all employed in
the service of the government, and though he
regretted it extremely, he did not think the
travelers would be able to continue their jour-
ney until evening.
Barberine, fatigued by her long journey, de-
cided to spend the hours of this enforced delay
in taking a little rest, and asked the master of
the post if he could give her a bed. He offered
her that of his wife, and Barberine flung her-
self upon it, without undressing, and after tell-
ing her husband to awaken her when the horses
returned, she fell asleep.
Saint-Bertrand was too much annoyed at this
interruption of their journey to feel any desire
to sleep, so after drinking several cups of tea in