I braved all the risks.
I was the secret means of communication of the highest circles of
our cult of Rebellion. Fool that I was, wandering from province to
province, I lived the life of a mad enthusiast. The proud memories
of Poland were mine, the spirit of her music, arts, and poetry had
cast its witchery over me. Her history, the tragedy of a crownless
queen of sorrows, had transported me into a dreamy idealism. I was
soon the confidant of our seductive mobile Polish beauties. Sinuous,
insincere, changeful, passionate, and burning with the flames
of Love and Life, I was, at once, their idol and their plaything,
their hero, and their willing slave.
"For then, the spirit of old Poland rang out in my numbers, and
I waked the quivering echoes of woman's heart at will. It was in
seventy-three that I was sent on a special mission to Prince Pierre
Troubetskoi's splendid chateau at Jitomir in Volhynia. The crafty
Russians were watching us even there, and were busied in assembling
troops secretly, at Kiev and Wilna. To another was given the proud
place of secret spy over the higher circles of Wilna, while my
duty was to watch Jitomir and Kiev. Troubetskoi was a bold gallant
fellow, an ardent Muscovite, and had secretly returned from a
long sojourn in Paris. He was in close touch with the Governors of
Volhynia, Kiev, and Podolia, and we feared his sword within, his
Parisian connections without.
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