I promised Olga to consider this matter, and so prevailed upon her to leave me. When she had gone I gave vent to the laughter which I had with difficulty restrained.

Here was a fury indeed! First she would have her rival killed, then tortured with jealousy, and the prize for either service, herself. Now during the conversation with this woman I had discovered one thing for certain, namely, that I cared not one jot for her fascinations; she no longer had power to move me. The only feeling of which I was conscious in speaking with her was a great desire to give her as sore a heart as she had once given me, could I but devise a way to do so. It was for this reason that I left the decision as it were in doubt, as though I would consider the matter; whereas all I wished was for time to see whether there was any way of turning this new attitude of hers to advantage.

I was not many hours older that day when of a sudden Mazeppa came raging to my lodging, full of a grievance against me.

‘Thou hast played a double game, Chelminsky,’ said he, looking very evilly at me. ‘Explain; for I trusted thee and thou hast played me false!’

‘Explain, rather, thou,’ I replied, laughing, ‘for I know not how I have offended.’

‘It has come to my knowledge,’ said Mazeppa, ‘that Vera Kurbatof was in sanctuary at the DiÉvitchy monastery; that she was placed there by none other than thyself, and that even when I set thee to find her, trusting thee, her hiding place was all the while known to thee, though thou didst make a show of ignorance. See! Chelminsky, a true friend should not act thus.’

‘Bah!—it is nothing, Mazeppa; you do me injustice. It is true that I placed her in sanctuary—could I have done better on your behalf? As for keeping silence, I was persuaded by Vera to tell no living soul of her hiding place. I had been dogged by some spy, remember, and this—though the rascal came off second best—so alarmed the girl that she bade me behave most cautiously.’

‘But you visited her there, my friend, more than once, and even fought—as I am informed—to protect her——’

‘Dear Heaven, would you not have done the same, man? They came to carry her to the terem, which was exactly what must at all costs be avoided! I thought to have praise and thanks from you when I should have told my tale, instead of which I am abused as though I had committed a great crime! Truly, Mazeppa, thou art an ungrateful friend, and I am sorry I toiled and bled for thy sake!’

Mazeppa gazed long and fixedly in my face. I knew well what passed in his mind. He was trying to decide whether I was fool or deceiver; whether in reality I had played a double game with Vera, or a simple one as I declared. It was difficult to preserve an even countenance. At length I could bear it no longer, and burst into laughter.

‘What ails thee this day, Mazeppa? Why dost thou gaze at me in this solemn fashion? let us have an understanding. What is in thy mind concerning me?’

‘I will tell thee what I have thought,’ he said. ‘I have greatly feared that throughout this matter thy care for Vera Kurbatof has been more for thy own sake than for mine. If it be so, Chelminsky, and thou desirest this wench for thyself, beware what thou dost, for by the saints I shall win in the end.’

‘To what purpose is all this talking,’ said I, most innocently; ‘what do I gain by befriending this wench; what is she to me? If I have done my best to save her from the terem, this has been done at thy own request.’

‘Well, I have long suspected thee. Any man might well desire so fair a creature, and it has seemed to me that she is more to thee than thou wouldst have me think. I am determined that none shall possess this maiden but I. Be sure, my friend, that when Mazeppa is resolved upon any matter, that matter is in the end accomplished.’

‘Dear heart!’ I exclaimed, laughing aloud, ‘have the girl for thy own if thou canst—what is she to me? Only I have done with serving thee in this matter. To be treated thus, and threatened, and what not, after I have toiled and bled in thy cause! This is ingratitude, Mazeppa, and thy thanklessness shall serve thee ill; for be sure thou shalt need a friend to help thee before Vera is thine and safely in thy hands!’

‘Well, if I have truly wronged you, I ask pardon. I am in love with the wench, and a man in love is not his own master; forgive me if I have suspected you foolishly. Continue to be my friend in this, I pray you. You have done excellently, so far; so well, indeed, that it is your very zeal that has caused me to suspect you of working for yourself and not for me. But stay, why shall I need a friend now that she is safely out of the terem? Are there difficulties that I know not of?’

‘There is the old Boyar, her father. Failing her marriage with the Tsar he has, I know, other intentions for her. There is a rich and powerful Boyar, their neighbour in the country, for whom he intends her—an old man.’

‘Good, an old man. Ha! then the wench herself will be on our side; we will devise a plan, Chelminsky, and thou shalt help me to carry her away. By the saints, it seems I have wronged thee most foully! The beauty of the girl is my excuse, for truly I do not even now understand how any man can know her and not love her. Lord! when I think of it, I suspect thee still!’

‘That is for ever the way of a man when he is fully in love; he must needs suspect that all other men are of the same way of thinking as himself! It is a good thing that men differ in their opinion of a woman. This Vera is certainly fair enough, but to my eyes there are others as fair and fairer. I doubt not my old love will come back to me, now that she has failed to outdo Praskovia Soltikof in the regard of the Tsar. I would punish her for her conduct in throwing me over, but, by the saints, one must forgive her something for her good looks: she is as splendid as the day, and that is plain truth.’

‘Olga Panief you speak of? Yes, she is splendid, and I doubt not she would return to thee; but—shall I deal friendly with thee, Chelminsky?’

‘If you will; have I not deserved it?’

‘I fear thy anger; well, I will brave it for thy sake. Be careful with this wench Olga, my friend. Do not trust her too much. I have told thee of her violence within the terem when she found that the Tsar would choose Praskovia before her. She is a fiend, no less. She is mad with rage and the desire of vengeance. This very day she has avowed her love for me, or rather she has offered me her love upon conditions——’

‘Avowed her love for you!’ I exclaimed, starting to my feet, as though in fury, though in truth I felt more inclined to laugh than to rage; ‘and you dare to tell me this, Mazeppa?’

‘Stay, I speak as your friend. “Kill this Praskovia for me,” said Olga, “and I am yours,” or words to that effect. I bade her depart from me and not speak as a fool and a mad woman. I tell you this for your advantage, that you should not trust her too much.’

‘Does she love you, think you, Mazeppa? Would she have come to you thus but for the hope of persuading you to avenge her?’

Now, Mazeppa was one who forever believed that every woman must of necessity fall in love with him if he but raised his finger to encourage her, and it is certain that he was generally a successful lover. Even at this moment, when he was very desirous of my friendship and assistance, he could not resist the delight of hinting that he had made a conquest of Olga.

‘If she loves me it matters little, for I vow that she shall have no encouragement from me, my friend, now that I know you still desire her. I doubt not that you will win her, but, as I say, trust her not too much. Now, as to Vera Kurbatof, of whom you have lately seen more than I, have you spoken to her of me; is she inclined, think you, to my suit?’

‘I have scarcely spoken of you. She is aware that you would have befriended her. You have told me the truth as to Olga; shall I be equally frank as to Vera?’

Mazeppa looked astonished, then somewhat angry; but he bade me speak on.

‘I have been so good a friend to her and served her so well,’ said I, ‘that it would be wonderful if so gentle a maid were not grateful——’

‘Grateful, well,’ interrupted Mazeppa; ‘but dare not tell me there is more than gratitude. By heaven, Chelminsky, if, after all, you have fooled me and have sought to gain this maiden’s love——’

‘Oh, oh! I have sought nothing; if she is grateful and her gratitude has inclined her to bestow upon me a certain sweet friendly kindness which might, I admit, one day develop into a warmer regard, am I to blame? I speak as a friend. I have not wooed her back; take her and win her, Mazeppa, if thou wilt, and if she will also!’

‘A pretty confession to make indeed!’ cried Mazeppa, striding angrily about the room, too furious to perceive that his own admission had been the very same. ‘By the saints, I know not whether to trust thee or no! I know not whether thou art most fool or knave!’

Truly love had made of Mazeppa himself for the time being more fool than knave! Never was this old fox less of a fox than on this day! Well, he had called me fool before the Tsar Peter, assuring his Highness that I was too great a fool to make a Cossack Hetman. We should see who was the greater fool to-day, he or I; for indeed I had a plan in my mind to make so great a fool of him that he should remember for evermore how he had miscalled me!