CHAPTER XXXV

SPARKS AND ASHES

Zeneida's gondola glided quickly past the funeral barge back to Kreskowsky Island. Her guests were entertaining themselves without her. They were used to do so.

The conspirators were largely represented; even Pestel, from far-off Nikolajevsk, was there. To-night the conflicting parties were to measure themselves; the decision was to be made which plan should be the accepted one: the one which should give freedom by means of the Czar; or that which, regardless of him, living or dead, should carry the work to its completion.

As the fireworks commenced, the Bojars withdrew from the gay scene to the roulette chamber.

There were three-and-twenty men and Zeneida. Prince Ghedimin alone was still expected; he was to come direct from the Czar.

He came.

He had a long envelope, sealed with five seals, in his hand.

In extreme agitation all awaited the opening of the document. The Prince cut the seals with a pair of scissors, opened the envelope, and there fell from it the ashes of some burned sheets of paper, as they had been reclaimed from the fire. It was the anxiously awaited _charta_--reduced to ashes.

"I said so!" exclaimed Pestel, with triumphant countenance. "The whole thing was a comedy. Scarce three months has it lasted. There's an end of fine words. Now to dark deeds!"

Nothing was left but to decide if _the deed_ should be consummated.

They voted openly and by name.

There were twelve ayes and twelve noes.

"There is still one to give the casting vote," said Pestel. "Here is the 'Votum Minervæ.' Here is Zeneida. Her vote shall decide it."

Zeneida saw the deadly pallor which had overspread Ghedimin's face.

With calm voice she said, "Aye."

Thirteen to twelve the majority for the deed. But when? That was the next question.

Pestel said, "At once."

Ryleieff moved that in September would be their best opportunity, at the concentration of the army.

"To-day," growled Jakuskin. "Not to-morrow!"

Fresh votes had to be taken.

"At once, or in September?"

Once more the votes were twelve to twelve. Once more Zeneida was called upon to give the casting vote.

Upon her breath hung the decision whether the world at that very hour should be shattered to its foundations.

"In September," she said; and Ghedimin gave a deep breath of relief.

Pestel shrugged his shoulders wrathfully.

"Then it were better to put it off until May, to try the success of the concentration of the army in Kiew. There in the South we are the masters."

"Shame upon us!" growled Jakuskin. "We are twelve to their twelve, and dare not do the deed. Every one of us a Brutus! More than an Armada! Were I alone I would do it myself."

The concluding set piece of the fireworks was greeted by the crowd without with clapping of hands. The golden rain fell like a shower of stars from the sky.

"Very well. The 20th of September," whispered the conspirators, as they shook hands with each other. Loud peals of laughter were heard among the gay company; the health of the lady of the house was drunk with acclaim.

Upon the smooth surface of the Neva, under the shower of golden rain, gently glided the funeral barge to its destination; the dead lay with face serene; and amid the applause and hand-clapping of the spectators arose the dirge:

"Ah, the day of tears and mourning, From the dust of earth returning, Man for judgment must prepare him."

The psalm and noisy crowd were silenced. The golden sparks died out, the ashes were extinguished. Morning began to dawn. Not a soul was to be seen on the Neva. Every one had gone home to sleep through the gray morning hours; the forenoon in St. Petersburg is good for nothing else.

Even morning here has its special characteristics. The sky is white, and as it is reflected on the calm surface of the Neva it seems like one plate of burnished silver, upon which the long streaks of cloud and the heavy foliage of the trees stand out black as night. Pomp of death in sky and earth!