For the rest of the interview my patron, this Tsar of seventeen, made barefaced love to Vera Kurbatof, ignoring my presence and the motive of his visit, which had been to advance my suit with her father.

Vera—being the senior of the Tsar by nearly two years—received his boyish homage with complacence. Being anxious to secure his goodwill, she was amiable and animated, and the Tsar—as my jealous eyes could perceive—thought well of her beauty and manners.

When we came forth, after a visit of an hour, he made no further mention, either to Kurbatof or to Vera, of my suit: he had forgotten the object of his coming in the delight of Vera’s presence.

‘That is the best wench I have yet seen,’ he said; ‘and if——,’ at this point Peter paused and became thoughtful.

‘Your Highness wished to say,’ I suggested, ‘that if the Boyarishnya Vera——’

‘If she were not older than I, she might do for me when it is my turn to marry, next year.’

‘Say, rather, if she were not promised to another,’ said I, flushing. Peter frowned.

‘Another? What other?’ he asked.

‘Your Highness came to arrange my suit,’ I said, angrily enough; ‘not to seek a bride for your own marrying.’

‘Oh—oh! the Tsar must choose first! But, Lord, what a thundercloud is in thy face! Cheer up, man! is thy happiness bound up in this wench?’

‘I did not look to have the Tsar for a rival,’ I blurted. ‘This is not fair dealing, Peter Alexeyevitch!’

‘There is no rivalry yet. Fear not, she is too old for me. My mother will have me take a wife of sixteen; this one is nineteen, or near it, but she is handsome——’

‘Fear not, man,’ he suddenly continued, giving me a mighty slap upon the back: ‘thou shalt be Hetman as soon as I am true Tsar, and then this old fool shall let thee take his girl.’

‘Now the Tsar speaks,’ I said, relieved and gratified. ‘I knew not who spoke in thy voice before.’

‘Oh, it was I, my friend,’ he laughed. ‘She is too old for me, or I might yet take her out of thy hands.’

Nevertheless, Vera informed me to my surprise, when next I saw her, that Peter had been each day, and that he had commanded the Boyar, under pain of grievous punishment, to see that his daughter remained unbetrothed for a year.

‘And what means that, Vera?’ I asked gloomily. ‘That he would preserve thee in safety for me to wed when I am Hetman, or that he will think of thee for himself when the time comes for his bride-choosing?’

‘At any rate, it will keep our fat Boyar away,’ she smiled. ‘For the rest, save me from another Tsaritsa-choosing! Sooner let us——’ Vera paused.

‘Let us what, my Vera?’ I insisted. ‘Speak and fear not.’

‘It is most sinful to marry without the consent of the parents,’ she said; ‘and yet I can imagine that such a step might be necessary. My father has been cruel in these matters, though I know well that he seeks my advantage as he sees it.’

The end of this conversation was that we were quite agreed to take matters into our own hands and do as we willed rather than as Tsars and fathers ruled it. But destiny proved too hard for us.

For the Boyar Kurbatof, seeing great hope for his daughter’s advancement in the behaviour of the Tsar Peter, who insisted that Vera should remain unbetrothed for a year, now suddenly altered his attitude towards Vera; and whereas she had hitherto enjoyed more freedom than was usual among Russian maidens at that time, he now instituted the strictest terem for her in his own house, placing her behind iron bars and silken curtains, and forbidding and effectually preventing all access to her except by her old nurse.

Thus it happened that the interview at which we had arranged to rebel proved to be our last meeting for many a day; and to every application made by me to the Boyar for a sight of his beloved daughter, I received the reply: ‘Come at the end of a year if you are Hetman.’

The Tsar Peter was admitted several times before his return to Preobrajensky, and this added much to my torture, which became so acute that I gladly received, presently, the call to ride with my Cossacks upon Galitsin’s new expedition against the Crimean Tartars, leaving Vera to the care of the Highest and of her own discretion.

When I came to Batourin I saw Mazeppa for the first time since I had taken Vera from him at the post station, and I came prepared for war; for surely, I thought, I should be called to account.

But Mazeppa was inclined to treat the matter lightly.

‘What!’ he said. ‘You bring no wife? Where, then, is the fair, foolish Vera?’

‘I have no wife. The Barishnya Kurbatof remains in Moscow. And why, I pray, is she called foolish?’

‘Oh!’ he laughed, ‘it would not become me to say; but, tell me, has she proved herself so wise that she has sent Chelminsky about his business?’

‘She is and remains wise,’ I replied, ‘since she both escaped Mazeppa and prefers to tarry where she is, safe from false friends and hypocrites.’

‘Come, Chelminsky, take not such matters too seriously: women are toys. If she has played thee false, as she has served me and others also, it is a matter to laugh at, not to weep for. She is not worth a tear, my son, nor a frown—was there ever woman worth crying for?’

‘I will uphold the honour of Vera with my sword; therefore speak well of her or not at all,’ I said angrily; and Mazeppa laughed and shrugged his shoulders, though he looked annoyed. I have since thought all this indifference was assumed to deceive me, and that he had not yet forgotten his love for Vera, which was real enough at the beginning, and when he would have stolen her from me.

After this we spoke of military matters, for Mazeppa was at this time the Hetman’s chief minister for all that concerned warfare and the arming and preparing for campaigns, and it was necessary to put fifty thousand lances in the field very quickly to help Galitsin and his Russians against the Tartar Khan in the Crimea.

Now Samoilovitch, the Hetman, took command of our troops, wishing for military glory, and more especially to gain favour with Sophia, Regent of Russia, by personally assisting her dearly-loved Galitsin—from whom and from Sophia herself he had lately received little but coldness, for which, had he but known it, there was none but Mazeppa to thank. Mazeppa, preparing the ground for his own succession as Hetman, which is a life office, or is held until deposal, had traitorously done and said all he could to undermine the position of Samoilovitch, who suspected nothing, but trusted Mazeppa absolutely.

Therefore, when the Crimean expedition failed, and it was necessary to find a scapegoat in order that Galitsin, the favourite, should not suffer blame, the responsibility was shifted from his shoulders upon those of our poor Cossacks, and especially upon Samoilovitch, the Hetman.

The result of which treachery was that Samoilovitch was arrested in his tent and sent to Moscow, and thence to Siberia—a deposed, exiled, and ruined man, without being permitted to visit his home before departure.

Now when rumours reached the army in the Crimea that Samoilovitch would be deposed, it occurred to me immediately that Mazeppa must, in some way, have a hand in this matter, and that the whole arrangement was, likely enough, his handiwork, since—unless I could somehow checkmate him—he would certainly be the one to profit by the Hetman’s deposal.

Therefore I awaited the discharge of the troops in a frenzy of impatience, for I knew well that Mazeppa would not waste these precious days and weeks which destiny compelled me to fritter away in idle waiting.