Vera’s news disquieted me much. To know that Mazeppa was daily at her house poisoning her father’s mind against me was not pleasant knowledge. And I was to be refused admittance! Well, I could scarcely expect the Boyar, her father, to be greatly pleased with me since he had learned of my conduct in taking Vera’s part against his commands.

As I came near my lodgings that evening someone suddenly ran out from the shadow of a house and made a wild swoop at me with a knife. She was muffled to the eyes, but I should have guessed it was Olga Panief even if she had not spoken.

I easily avoided the blow, and, catching her wrist, compelled her to drop the weapon.

‘Now, you fury,’ I said, ‘we are equals for the jilting at Batourin. In future you will think twice before treating an honest love in such fashion: I loved you and meant honestly by you. Will you promise that you will leave me in peace henceforward?’

‘Not I; you are not fit to live, cheat and liar! I shall kill you at sight at the first opportunity.’

‘There may be no opportunity. I have heard you say such things that if I were to report them you should be knouted into your grave before you were many hours older. Have you forgotten bidding me slay the Tsaritsa-elect, your rival, for no better reason than jealousy?’

‘No one would believe such as you,’ she snapped; ‘you have no proofs.’

‘You made the same proposal to Mazeppa. He will be glad to witness you out of the world; as his wife you are a tie to him.’

She struggled furiously at these words, but I would not let her go, and upon her knife I placed my foot for safety.

Then she began to scream like a mad woman, calling me shameful and dreadful names, and vowing that not only I should die, but also the Tsaritsa-elect and Mazeppa, and I know not who else besides.

At the noise a body of Streltsi came up, ten men, to inquire what the noise meant.

Olga was subdued at sight of them, and looked sullenly as they approached; but she stopped her screaming and waited.

The leader asked me what in the fiend’s name was all the noise they had heard.

‘It is my poor sister here,’ I explained, ‘who suffers from paroxysms of madness, of which one has just passed over her.’

‘Then see that she behaves quietly, or she shall find there is authority in Moscow.’

They withdrew laughing and talking among themselves.

‘I will tell them the truth next time, Olga,’ I said; ‘I swear it!—therefore take heed what you do.’

‘Next time I may make a better stroke,’ said Olga sullenly. ‘I am determined that you shall not live; you are not fit, neither is Praskovia Soltikof. We shall see whether they who offend me shall laugh or weep!’

With that she withdrew and disappeared, the poorer by her dagger, which I carried away with me.

Afterwards I wished I had allowed the Streltsi to take the fool, for, though I fear not the open assault of men, it is different to know that there is a mad and furious woman at large who may rush out upon one at any moment. Such knowledge is apt to make a coward of a brave man.

Soon after this a message reached me from Vera Kurbatof. It was written, and I spelled it out with difficulty, being but a moderate gramatny or scholar. The message ran, ‘I am in danger again; come at noon to-morrow.’

This message filled me with joy, for I longed hourly to see the maiden. Never up to this day had woman taken such hold upon my heart; all other loves of my life had been but surface scratches, but this time I was sore wounded. I was in that foolish state when there is no rest except the beloved is at hand.

I went disguised; for, since I was to be denied admittance in my own name, it was useless, I thought, to attempt it or to force it. Therefore I borrowed the dress of a RaznÓschick, a fellow who carries a covered tray of cakes for sale. Such dealers are admitted, I knew, into the apartments of the ladies, who buy largely of their wares.

I spoke with the doorkeeper, bidding him obtain for me the permission of the Barishnya to enter the ladies’ quarter with my cakes, since she and her women were old customers of mine.

The man parleyed, and there was talking and arguing, and in the midst a man entered from the street behind me. I took no notice, being intent upon obtaining access to Vera, parleying and quarrelling with the doorkeeper.

Suddenly the new arrival placed his arms tightly round my own from behind, so that—being both held by him and hampered by my cake-tray, I could not move.

‘A RaznÓschick’s dress does not conceal Chelminsky’s voice,’ said one, whose tone I recognised in a moment for Mazeppa’s. ‘I have thee, my friend, at last. Go quickly, you porter, and fetch others to help. Shout for them to come!—this is a rascal in disguise, a cut-throat, a robber; be sure he’s come for no good!’

With a cry of horror the doorkeeper flung himself to the end of the hall, where he rang a bell and shouted names. I struggled, but could obtain no purchase for my efforts, which were useless.

Four or five men were quickly upon the scene. Mazeppa addressed them with authority.

‘Take this bad character and carry him to the flog-room. I will see the Boyar and obtain permission for his knouting.’

‘Do not get me knouted, Mazeppa,’ I said; ‘take your sword, rather, and run me through!’ Then I added, recovering dignity, ‘The Boyar will never dare knout a free Cossack, of family as good as his own, and ten times better than yours!’

Mazeppa replied not a word; but he bade the fellows tie me tight, for, said he, ‘He is a desperate character, and the house is not safe with him in it!’

So here was I locked up in the flog-room, and with the prospect of a knouting before me: a terrible and intolerable disgrace for one of my rank, and Vera as far off as ever, if not more hopelessly removed from me than before.

I was bound hands and feet; if they came to knout me I could make no resistance. I know not exactly how long I awaited my fate; the moments crawled maggot-slow. If I were knouted and survived the shame, I told myself, I should never speak to Mazeppa if we met face to face; I should strike out at sight; neither should I take any rest until I had killed him or he me.

I suppose but a few minutes had in reality passed by—though the maggot-footed time seemed to be the beginning of Eternity—when at length steps approached, and my heart stood still to await my doom.

There entered Mazeppa and one other—a burly, middle-aged man, a wealthy Boyar by his furred and jewelled kaftan—Vera’s father, Kurbatof.

‘So this is the fellow that did his best to defeat my wishes by keeping Vera from the terem? Why did you this, sir?’ said the Boyar.

I decided to speak boldly. ‘Because I desired her for myself, Boyar. What manner of a husband would the Tsar be for such as your daughter? She should marry a man, not a plaster figure!’

‘And who in the devil’s name are you, then?’ said old Kurbatof, astonished at my boldness.

‘I own to as good a name as even your own—Chelminsky. It is one of the best of our Cossack names; not like Mazeppa’s there, which he picked up Heaven knows where—no Cossack knows it! I am a better suitor than he, Boyar. He tells you doubtless that he will be Hetman; but it is also possible that I shall be so, and not he; for I have a Tsar behind me, and he a Regent. Moreover,’ I added, suddenly inspired, ‘Mazeppa is already married: this I can prove.’

‘Oh—oh!’ exclaimed the Boyar.

‘It is so,’ I persisted, ‘even though he deny it.’

Mazeppa seemed too startled and astonished to speak. The Boyar looked to him for an explanation.

‘It is a lie, Boyar!’ he stammered at length.

‘Bah!’ said Kurbatof, ‘lying is a sin and forbidden by God; which of you is lying?’

‘At any rate, I can bring witnesses,’ said I. ‘Let me go, Boyar; I am no common fellow to be kept bound in a knout-room; this is an indignity.’

‘Nevertheless, you have wronged this household, and ought to be punished. A man of your rank may not be knouted, but I will consider what should be done. Do you say Mazeppa is already married?’

‘As I can easily prove.’

‘Well, I will question you again. In the meantime you shall remain where you are.’

With which the Boyar left me, beckoning Mazeppa after him, who—I doubt not—flooded him with a torrent of fierce denials in contradiction of my statement, so that I know not whether I should soon have escaped from my prison, but that the door suddenly opened, and who but Vera should appear.

She beckoned me to silence; then she removed my bonds and showed me a way out of the house by a side door. When we stood safely without she explained that she had sent for me because she greatly mistrusted Mazeppa. Her father was inclined to let her marry the rich Russian Boyar rather than the Cossack adventurer, and, said Vera, ‘if he so decides, I do not trust Mazeppa.’

‘What do you fear?’ I asked.

‘He will not take no for an answer. If he cannot have me by fair means, he will secure me by foul.’

Exactly the words Mazeppa himself had once used in speaking of his intention with regard to Vera.

‘Then you would have me keep a watch upon him?’ said I, and Vera begged me with brimming eyes to watch her father’s house as a cat listens at a mouse-hole, closing never an eye.