THE STAR OF THE NORTH (L'Etoile du Nord)

One sunny noon-tide, towards the end of the seventeenth century, a number of workmen in the shipyard of a certain little village in Finland were resting from their labours during the dinner hour; and as they chatted and laughed together a pastry-cook presently appeared in their midst with a basket of fresh sweetmeats, and quickly began to do a roaring trade. For Danilowitz, the pastry-cook, though not a native of the village, was a great favourite with the workmen, being a lively fellow, and ever ready to join in a merry jest; and since his wares were good, and of that delicate kind usually only to be got in large cities, he always found a ready market in the shipyard.

Amongst the group of idlers was one young man who alone continued his work, even during this hour of general relaxation. This industrious worker was a stranger also to the village, who had only taken up his abode there some few weeks ago, and was known amongst the villagers as Peter Michaeloff. But, though the simple peasants little guessed it, the young carpenter whom they treated as an equal was in reality none other than the Czar of Russia, Peter I., who, in accordance with his accustomed energy of character and love of thoroughness, had come thus to the village in humble dress and hired himself out as a carpenter, in order to learn for himself the art of shipbuilding, to know that his navy was being properly constructed. On his arrival in the village, he had fallen ill, and during his illness was tenderly nursed back to health by a fair maiden named Catherine Skavronski, whose brother, George, was a teacher of music; and having afterwards fallen deeply in love with this maiden, whose beauty and wonderful strength of character exercised extraordinary fascination over him, the young King lingered on in the village long after the time when he should have left. He was encouraged to this course by hearing Catherine declare one day that her dead mother, who had possessed wonderful gifts of prophecy, had foretold a brilliant future for her; and he determined to persevere in his wooing, since the maiden would fulfil her destiny if she became his bride.

Catherine usually appeared in the shipyard at noon-day, to sell spirits to the workmen, in which she did a good trade, and earned enough money to keep herself and her brother, who, being of a weaker nature, had always allowed his energetic sister to take the lead in all things connected with their welfare.

But to-day the pretty cantinière was not at her usual trade, and the merry workmen presently began to rally Peter on his gloomy looks, knowing well enough that the cause was to be found in the absence of his sweetheart, Catherine, Peter's passionate nature at all times could ill brook badinage of this kind, and it was with difficulty he now restrained himself; but just at that time, one of the workmen began to sing a patriotic song in praise of Finland, and King Charles XII., and all joined in it uproariously, for the workmen were for the most part Finns or Swedes, to whom the sentiments of the song were acceptable.

Danilowitz, the pastry-cook, however, remained silent, with a frown on his face; and when the song came to an end, he raised his glass to his lips, and cried fearlessly, "I pledge the Czar, brave Peter the First!"

Instantly there was a tumult amongst the men, who indignantly rushed forward to punish the rash man who had dared to drink to one whom they regarded as the enemy of their country; but, to the surprise of Danilowitz, Peter sprang to his aid, and by his skillful defence, kept all at bay.

Just then, the bell for the recommencement of work clanged forth, and the workmen trooped off; and when they had gone, Peter and Danilowitz began to talk together, surprised at having thus discovered that they were countrymen, Danilowitz explaining that he found little opening for his trade in the small Finnish village, and thought of returning to his own country to seek employment under the Czar, whom he spoke of in terms of high praise, little dreaming that he stood before him; and Peter, pleased with the man's daring and evident ambition, invited him to return to Russia with himself, saying he also meant to seek service under the Czar, and prophesying success for his new friend should he join his army. Danilowitz eagerly agreed to his proposal, laughing light-heartedly at the honours which Peter declared were waiting for him; and when he had gone off to dispose of the remainder of his wares elsewhere, Peter made his way to the house of George Skavronski.

Hearing George playing one of Catherine's favourite airs, Peter took his own flute from his pocket, and began to play the same tune in answer; and George quickly appeared at the door, praising his excellent performance, and inviting him to enter for a lesson, since he was one of his most promising pupils. Upon Peter inquiring the cause of Catherine's absence from her accustomed duties, George explained that she had gone to plead his cause with the uncle and guardian of Prascovia, the pretty maiden whom he loved and desired to marry that day; and whilst they were thus talking together, Catherine herself came in, and announced exultantly that she had succeeded in her mission.

Peter now seized the opportunity of pleading his own cause with Catherine, who, as usual, only gave him sharp and merry rebuffs for answer, for although she had really loved him deeply from the beginning of their acquaintance, she so thoroughly understood the weak points of his character, that she always declared she could not marry him until he learned to keep his passions in control, to be less impetuous, and not so determined to have his own way in every matter.

Although Peter greatly appreciated Catherine's clear insight into his character, and knew that she admired his nobler qualities and instincts, he loved her so passionately that her rebukes constantly filled him with impatience; and this afternoon, as usual, he quickly lost his temper, to the great amusement of his tantalising sweetheart, who cried merrily, "There! There! A pretty husband you would make, to be sure!"

Whilst Peter was vainly endeavouring to choke back his right royal wrath at this saucy speech, the pretty little Prascovia hurriedly entered the house, in great agitation; and as George ran to her side in tender concern, she declared that she had been pursued by a party of Kalmuks and Cossacks, who were even now following her to the house with evil intent.

All were alarmed by this news, but Catherine boldly avowed that all would be well, since she herself would address these wild tribesmen, who were, indeed, her kinsmen, since her mother had been their priestess and held in great reverence by them. So when the Kalmuks presently came dashing up, the brave girl ran out fearlessly to meet them, and commanded them, in the name of her dead mother, the Princess Vlasta, instantly to forego their intention of raiding the house; and on hearing this revered name, the wild troop immediately withdrew respectfully.

Then Catherine approached their leader, Gritzenko, and, seizing his hand, prophesied that promotion quickly awaited him in the army of the Czar; and filled with dreams of glory, Gritzenko soon led his men away.

When they had gone, George and Prascovia went off to make arrangements for their wedding that evening; and thus Catherine and Peter were left alone. Catherine, having noticed with pleasure that during the whole time she had spoken with the Kalmuks, Peter had stood near at hand, grimly holding a hatchet, in readiness to dash out to her aid at the least sign of danger, now spoke tenderly to him, declaring that such noble conduct endeared him to her; and Peter was filled with joy, for he felt that his cause was not so hopeless after all, since he could see now that his love was returned, even though the high-spirited maiden did not as yet respect him. Thus fired with a passionate desire to win her regard at all costs, Peter impetuously determined to return with the Kalmuks to the army, and earn such renown as should compel her ungrudging admiration; and bidding Catherine a hasty farewell, he hurried off to seek out Danilowitz to return to Russia with him.

Catherine had not been long alone ere Prascovia returned, saying that all the preparations were now ready for her wedding that evening with George, who would shortly arrive with the wedding guests and musicians; and then, carelessly producing a letter, she handed it to her friend, saying it had been sent to her from the Burgomaster, and upon the letter being opened, the two girls read it together.

To their dismay, they found that this was an order for George to leave the village that night with the Muscovite soldiers who had just arrived, as he was one of twelve chosen recruits who had been impressed into the service of the Czar; but the Burgomaster added that if a substitute could be found to take his place, he would thus be freed from serving.

Prascovia was filled with distress and grief because her wedding could not now take place, and began to weep bitterly, knowing well that no substitute could be found for George, since all in the village hated the Russians, and would refuse to serve the Czar unless compelled to do so; but Catherine, accustomed always to take her brother's troubles upon her own strong young shoulders, bade her dry her tears, and declared that she would herself take George's place as a recruit for a fortnight, so that he might be married that night after all, and also remain with his bride a short time before taking up his soldier's duties.

So when George returned, this plan was eagerly explained to him, and he promised to relieve Catherine of her difficult undertaking in a fortnight's time; and then, as the wedding guests, with the priest and musicians, shortly afterwards arrived, the marriage was celebrated with all the accustomed rejoicings and merriment.

Catherine herself joined gaily in the lively wedding songs, for she delighted in the happiness of her brother, and was quite regardless of the hardships and dangers she would shortly have to endure for his sake; but when the festivities were at their height she stole away unnoticed from the merry throng, and, dressing herself in male attire, went off courageously to join the recruits who were to march with the Russian troops that night.

And now for Catherine came a very difficult and trying time, since the training of a raw recruit was exceedingly exhausting and full of hardships; but the girl's own wonderful powers of endurance and dauntless spirit carried her through without misadventure, or discovery of her real identity.

At the end of a fortnight, the recruits all arrived at the Russian camp, where the imperial forces were gathered and waiting to attack the armies of Sweden, with which country they were then at war; and here Catherine met with her first difficulty. For the Kalmuk, Gritzenko, who had already attained promotion to the rank of corporal, in accordance with her prophecy, had many times on the march eyed her with curiosity, as though he half recognised her; and on arriving in the camp, he called her up to him, saying that her face reminded him of a pretty maiden who used to sell spirits in the Finnish village they had just left.

Catherine, though trembling for fear of discovery, laughingly put him off by declaring that the maiden he spoke of must have been her own sister; and then, by entering into friendly conversation with the talkative soldier, she learnt from him, to her surprise and consternation, that a serious conspiracy amongst many of the chief officers was afoot in the camp, unknown to the general in command, and that Gritzenko himself was receiving large sums of money for carrying treasonable documents, though, being unable to read or write, he was quite ignorant of their contents and purpose, thinking conceitedly that the money bestowed upon him was given by the officers concerned as a reward for his own military zeal and good conduct. Catherine, however, being educated and quick-witted, quickly grasped the situation, and having hastily read the documents produced by Gritzenko, she kept the true knowledge of their contents to herself, leaving the ignorant soldier in his former belief, but afterwards wrote down the names of the officers concerned on a slip of paper, which she concealed in her coat, intending to form some plan of action later. Then, being ordered by Gritzenko to mount guard as sentinel outside a certain tent, within which a rich supper had been laid, pending the arrival of some distinguished officers, she commenced her patrol up and down.

Soon afterwards, whilst Catherine was at the far end of her beat, the expected officers arrived, and entered the tent, their features being unobserved by her; and these new arrivals were none other than Peter and Danilowitz, the latter already a colonel in the Russian army, and rejoicing in the confidence of his companion, whose true identity was of course now known to him.

Peter, though in the dress of a plain captain, was received respectfully by the general in command as Czar, but immediately requested that his incognito should be strictly preserved for the present, since he had been told of the conspiracy in the camp, and had boldly come to quell it in person, having already thought out a scheme by which success would be assured; and when the general had retired, astonished at the news, Peter and Danilowitz sat down to enjoy the supper that had been prepared for them, and which was served by two very pretty and lively little vivandières.

Peter, as he ever did in his moments of relaxation, gave himself up unreservedly to the pleasure of the moment; and casting aside for the time being the cares of State, he began to carouse gaily with Danilowitz, drinking deeply, and caressing the pretty vivandières with the accustomed licence of the times.

Catherine, attracted by the sounds of hilarity that issued from the tent, and forgetful of military discipline, could not refrain from peeping through the opening; and instantly recognising Peter, she was filled with joy on hearing her own name toasted by him at that moment. Her delight, however, quickly turned to indignation on beholding her lover, heated by the wine he had drunk, the next instant freely embracing the vivandière who so constantly kept his goblet filled; and as she continued to look angrily upon the scene, Gritzenko came by, and, discovering the sentry thus forgetful of his duty, instantly dragged her away, and ordered her into confinement.

Catherine, already upset by the scene within the tent, and resenting the rough handling of the Kalmuk, struck him angrily on the face, upon which Gritzenko, furious at being thus defied by a mere recruit, forced her into the tent before the officers, and, explaining her insubordination, demanded reparation.

Peter, impatient at this unwelcome interruption of his pleasure, and without even looking upon the offender, cried out carelessly: "Let him be shot!"

Catherine, now realising the danger of her position, called out as she was being dragged away to execution, "Peter! Peter! Do not let me be killed, but save me!"

At first, Peter, still under the influence of the strong wines he had been drinking, did not heed her appeal, but as her last despairing cry rang out as she was hustled from the tent, his attention was suddenly arrested, and at length, recognising the voice as that of his beloved Catherine, he sprang to his feet in bewilderment. Then, the shock of his discovery quickly restoring his clouded senses, he felt convinced that the young recruit was indeed the village maiden in disguise, and, overcome with horror that he had so carelessly given orders for her execution, he authoritatively commanded the pair to be brought back.

But Gritzenko, in his zeal, had already endeavoured to carry out the first command; and when he was at length brought back to Peter, he explained that the prisoner had attempted to escape by swimming the river close by, upon which he had promptly shot his victim in the water. Then, well satisfied with what he had done, the Kalmuk handed Peter a note, which he stated the young recruit had flung to him before plunging into the stream; and upon opening this missive, the now despairing lover saw that it contained the names of those officers concerned in the conspiracy, at the end of which was a message written in haste by Catherine, bidding him to use this information to advance himself in the favour of the Czar. Enclosed in the paper was the ring he had himself given to her; and as he gazed upon this ring, and read her last tender message of farewell, Peter was plunged into the deepest woe, realising that by his own rash impetuosity the maiden he loved so passionately was now lost to him for ever.

At that moment, the leaders of the conspiracy entered the tent, and, regarding Peter and Danilowitz as belonging to their party, began to talk over their plans of insurrection, declaring that at a given signal they intended to join the ranks of the enemy against the Czar, followed by all the men in the imperial army whom they had affected; and Peter, thus roused from his grief by this pressing need for immediate action, quickly determined to turn this moment of danger to advantage by his own fearless daring. In spite of the efforts made to restrain him by Danilowitz, who trembled for the safety of his beloved sovereign, thus unprotected in the midst of traitors, he sprang forward and rebuked the officers passionately for thus seeking to avenge their own petty grievances by the sacrifice of their honour at a time when their country was in danger; and having worked them up into the wildest enthusiasm of patriotism by his burning eloquence, he implored them to first drive away the enemies of their land, after which he swore that he would himself deliver up the Czar to them, unprotected and alone, to deal with as they chose.

The conspirators, although already rendered ashamed of their base designs by these scathing words, yet demanded who should be their guarantee of this; and Peter, without a moment's hesitation, answered fearlessly: "I, the Czar, whom you were about to betray! Now, slay me if you will!"

But for answer, the conspirators instantly fell on their knees, imploring pardon for their treachery; for they were completely conquered by the dauntless courage thus displayed by the young monarch, whose brave and warlike spirit they had ever admired, even whilst resenting his strict discipline, which had been the cause of their insurrection.

Thus, by a single bold action, and the influence of his own noble personality, did Peter quell the mutinous spirit which had threatened such disaster to his arms; and, having once restored the patriotism of his men, and their loyalty to himself as King, he was now able to lead them on to victory, and scatter the enemies of his country.

Whilst engaged in active warfare, as leader of his now enthusiastic army, Peter had no time to think of his lost Catherine; but when peaceful days came once again, and he returned to the royal palace, all his old grief broke out afresh, and he was plunged into the deepest melancholy.

In order to try to drown his sad thoughts, from time to time he would take up his carpenter's work once more; but even when labouring his hardest, the beautiful face of the maiden he had loved so dearly still intruded, a bright mental picture he could never forget.

Acting upon his instructions, Danilowitz had made every possible effort to discover what had become of the lost Catherine; for, though fired at in the water, Peter clung to the belief that she was not dead, but might possibly have escaped to land, since her body had never been recovered.

At first, Danilowitz found his task a hopeless one; but at length his efforts were crowned with success, and having learnt from a poor peasant woman that she had rescued a wounded soldier from the river some weeks ago, whom she had since discovered to be a female, he bade her bring the girl to his own private room in the palace.

The rescued maiden was accordingly brought to the palace, and proved indeed to be Catherine; but, to the consternation of Danilowitz, he discovered that the shock of her wounds and the terrible hardships she had gone through had told so heavily upon the poor girl's mental activities, that, though now restored to bodily health, she had completely forgotten all the circumstances connected with her love for Peter, the mention of whose name had no meaning for her.

Wondering how he should break this sad news to his royal master, Danilowitz went into the presence chamber with a preoccupied air, and upon Peter as usual peremptorily demanding if he yet had news of his lost love, afraid to tell him the truth, he endeavoured to put him off for a while by admitting that he had got a clue, though he feared that little would result from it.

Whilst they were talking together, Gritzenko entered, and upon Peter demanding the reason why his privacy should be thus disturbed, the conceited soldier announced that he had come to ask for promotion, saying that he considered this to be his due for the zeal he had displayed in having fired upon the recruit who had dared to strike him.

Now recognising Gritzenko as the man who had been the unconscious cause of all his woe, Peter flew into a violent passion on hearing his request, and, seizing a weapon, would have killed him instantly, had not Danilowitz restrained him; and then controlling himself by a violent effort, he left the room, after commanding the Kalmuk, upon pain of death, to produce, ere the next day ended, the recruit whom he had fired upon in the water.

As Gritzenko moved away, astonished at being thus blamed for having done, as he considered, his duty as a zealous soldier, and grumbling at the vagaries of the great, he encountered Prascovia and George Skavronski, the latter having come at last to relieve his sister and join the regiment he had been impressed into, and who, having discovered that Catherine had disappeared, had now came to the palace with his bride to get news of her; and having some days before received instructions to detain all who came from the little Finnish village, now beloved by the Czar, the Kalmuk took the pair into his charge, and kept them under guard, until he should receive the will of his royal master regarding their disposal.

Meanwhile, Peter, having heard Catherine singing as he passed along the corridor, and instantly recognising her voice with overwhelming joy, Danilowitz could no longer keep the secret of her presence from him; and as gently as possible he broke to him the sad news of her disturbed mental state and forgetfulness of himself.

Peter was again plunged into despair on thus learning that though his beloved Catherine was restored to him, she no longer remembered their love; but upon Danilowitz mentioning that the poor girl's thoughts all centred round her old home, and especially the events connected with her brother's marriage, a sudden hope sprang up within him, for he remembered having heard of cases similar to that of Catherine, where persons so affected had been restored to their normal state by being again brought into contact with scenes and incidents which had strongly impressed them in their happier days.

Determined to try this course with Catherine, whom he now longed to thus restore that she might become his Empress, Peter quickly pressed Danilowitz, together with Prascovia and George (of whose arrival he was presently informed by Gritzenko), and certain other peasants who had recently arrived from Finland, into his service; and with all a lover's eager hope, he proceeded to instruct them in their parts.

All were soon ready; and when Catherine was brought into the room, the peasants began to sing the same song they had sung at her brother's wedding, with George and Prascovia moving amongst them in their festive garments. Then Danilowitz, having donned his old pastry-cook's dress, sang the song he used to sing in the village when offering his wares; and finally, Peter himself took up his flute, and began to play Catherine's own favourite air, which was so closely bound up with the story of their love.

As Catherine listened to this sweet music, her memory was indeed gradually awakened, as her lover had hoped, until the cloud of forgetfulness was entirely removed from her mind; and at last, recognising in the kingly figure so eagerly watching her, the features of the man she had loved so dearly in the past, she moved forward with a glad cry, and was clasped in his arms.

Full of joy that his beloved one was thus restored to reason, Peter led her proudly forward to receive the homage of his friends and helpers, who one and all greeted her respectfully as their future Empress; and thus did the humble Catherine fulfil the brilliant destiny prophesied by her priestess mother, and become the bride and good genius of a great monarch, who always loved and revered her as his guiding star, his precious "Star of the North!"