Boy Nihilist Page 9

youhere for hospital duty. But the proof that there is a very remoteprobability of your ever being recalled by the powers that consigned youhere is this wish on the surgeon's part for you to learn the Russianlanguage so as to become more useful here."

  "I will not learn it," said Barnwell, with a sudden burst ofindignation.

  "Walt a moment. Will you take me for a guide?"

  "With all my heart I will."

  "Then do all in your power to learn the language, and at the same timeto appear to be reconciled. More follows."

  "I will obey you, sir."

  "I see you are both brave and sensible. Force does not work here, saveto oppress. Be cunning, be sly, and, after you have mastered thelanguage and the situation, then there will be more hope for you. And,when you are strong enough, I will tell you the story of my life."

  "Strong enough?"

  "Yes; for it will take more than ordinary strength to stand it. But Ifeel a great change since meeting you. The ambition and rage for revengehas been toned down, and now a relapse may follow it."

  "How?"

  "This hope of revenge on Mastowix has buoyed me up during all theseyears; but now that I find that you have been the innocent cause ofbringing retribution upon him, I feel that my life's object, my objectfor living, no longer exists, and a relapse from that high excitement iscoming on, and I may die at any moment; but, thank goodness, perfectlysane."

  "Oh, do not talk so, please. You are the only friend I have in all thisvast expanse of human misery. Do not think of dying, I beg of you," saidBarnwell, greatly excited.

  "Goodness knows how long the time may be; but do not leave me, my son,do not leave me. I have a premonition of death, and that must not beuntil I have transferred a great secret into some worthy hands."

  "And you still trust me?"

  "I will. I feel that I can. Come and see me again to-morrow to--mindyou--to take still further lessons in the Russian language."

  "I will come."

  CHAPTER VIII.

  THE RUSSIAN LANGUAGE AND A STORY.

  The next day, and for several days, William Barnwell visited the cell ofold Peter Batavsky for the purpose of receiving lessons in the Russianlanguage.

  The poor old exile was undoubtedly right when he said that the surgeonof the hospital wanted him to learn it so that he would become a morevaluable slave.

  But at the same time he had convinced him that it was best for him tolearn it, and so he applied himself with all diligence, greatly to thedelight of the hospital surgeon, who, having taken a fancy to theAmerican youth, without stopping to think or to care about the crueltyranny that had taken him there, wanted him to become even more useful,as he undoubtedly could be by learning to speak Russian.

  And old Batavsky had learned to love him during the time. But as hisexcitement over the death of Prince Mastowix subsided he became more andmore rational.

  His whole intent now seemed to be to teach Barnwell the language, andthen to confide to him not only the story of his eventful life, but thepith of it, which covered a great secret.

  And the young exile had also learned to have a most profound respect forBatavsky, whom he found to be a highly educated man of more thanordinary ability, and how he could be thus consigned to such a dreadfulplace for life was more than he could understand, knowing but little ofthe dark deeds and ways of Russian tyrants.

  But in spite of what the old man had told him regarding theimprobability of his ever being released, he still hoped that thegovernor would make good his word, and that his case would in time reachthe American Minister at St. Petersburg, and that his government wouldinterfere and demand his release.

  And so he struggled on and hoped, learning rapidly all the while, andmaking himself more and more valuable to the chief surgeon. And, too, hewas becoming hardened somewhat, and used to the suffering which he sawin the hospital, and which was so revolting to his nature at first.

  Week after week, month after month, went by without bringing him anyword of hope, and he was not permitted to see the governor for thepurpose of asking him if he had sent his case back to St. Petersburg ashe agreed.

  He could do nothing but labor, wait and hope. Every month or so therewould come a batch of prisoners from St. Petersburg or Moscow, andofficial dispatches, but nothing came for him; no word, no suggestionthat he was even remembered in any way.

  Hope began to die in his heart, where he had nursed it so long.

  Was he, then, really doomed for life?

  And what of the beautiful girl of whom he was so fond, and whom hepromised to meet at Berlin?

  Would she not forget and condemn him for failing to keep his word, notknowing why did did not keep it?

  One day when he went to the cell occupied by old Batavsky, he found himunexpectedly low and evidently very ill; in fact, he was nearlyunconscious.

  Barnwell at once sprang to his side.

  "Are you ill, sir? Speak to me."

  The old man opened his eyes slowly when he caught him by the hand, buthe did not speak, and Barnwell went at once and reported the case to thechief surgeon, and asked for some brandy for him.

  "No; let him die! he cannot live much longer anyway," was the brutalreply.

  "But I am getting along so nicely in learning the language of him---"

  "Oh, well, take him some brandy, then."

  Without losing a moment he hastened back to the old man with a cup ofbrandy.

  "Here, sir, take some of this, and it will make you feel better," saidhe, raising his head tenderly, so as to enable him to do so.

  Batavsky allowed him to place the cup to his lips, and he drank severalswallows of the strong liquor, after which he lay down again.

  "Thank you, my son."

  "Do you feel better, sir?"

  "Yes; it warms my old blood a trifle. It was very kind of you to get itfor me, but I shall not tax your kindness much longer," he said, with asigh.

  "It is no tax to do a helpless person a kindness," replied young man.

  "True, but I am so unused to kindness. Yet I am glad you came to meto-day, for knowing I have but a short time to live, I wish to confide asecret to you."

  "Are you strong enough to talk? Take another sip of the brandy."

  "Thank you, my son; keep it, for it may enable me to tell my storythrough, but I could not do so without it. The secret I am about totransmit to your keeping has been my secret for nearly forty years. Ihave hoped and hoped for thirty-five of those years that I should escapein some way, but the hope is finally dead in me, and I transfer it toyou, who are full of life, youth, strength, and hope.

  "After I am dead, be it the ambition of your life to get away from thisaccursed place."

  "Doubt not it shall be, sir."

  "And should it be your misfortune not to be able to do so, promise methat before you die you will transmit the secret to some intelligentNihilist, in the hope that he may succeed."

  "I promise you, sir, and I will exact a like promise from him if youwish it."

  "It shall be yours to judge, my son. As I have stated to you atdifferent times, I was betrayed by Mastowix, with whom I was engagedwith others in a plot against Nicholas, Czar of Russia. I was worth amillion of rubles, and the whole of it I pledged to the cause of humanliberty in Russia. Mastowix knew this, and he also knew that othermembers of the society had large sums thus pledged. After a while I halfsuspected him, and so secreted my gold in a place known only to myself."

  "A million of rubles!" mused Barnwell.

  "Yes, my son, gold rubles. Well, Mastowix, when he thought the time ripefor his villainy, betrayed us all, with the understanding that he was tohave one-half of all the government could find belonging to us, togetherwith an office in which he could rise to ennoblement. Nicholas acceptedhis proposition, and we were banished to Siberia. All of my companionsare dead, and all these years Mastowix has reveled in their money andthe smiles of the autocrats. But he failed to find my rubles, as Iintended he should do, for no eye saw the spot where I secreted it. And
all these long weary years I have waited and hoped to escape, so I mightsecure that money and put it to the use I originally dedicated it to.Now, my son, will you see that this money is recovered and turnedagainst tyranny?"

  "Yes, if I ever escape. Every ruble of it shall help crush a tyrant,"said he resolutely.

  "Spoken like the brave youth I know you are."

  "But if I never succeed in escaping, then the money will molder andstill be as useless as it has been during your long imprisonment," hereplied sadly.

  "True, but you must escape. You have youth on your side, and can affordto bide your time. Again, you have an advantage that I never had. Youwill probably never be sent into the mines where I have slaved my lifeaway, never, but once a year, seeing the light of day, and this willgive you opportunities for escape which I have never had. Play yourcards so as to win the confidence of