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diff --git a/old/10132-8.txt b/old/10132-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..84f1289 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10132-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14249 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sowers, by Henry Seton Merriman + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Sowers + +Author: Henry Seton Merriman + +Release Date: November 19, 2003 [EBook #10132] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOWERS *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Christine Gehring and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + +THE SOWERS + +BY + +HENRY SETON MERRIMAN + + + +1895 + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAP. + + +I. A WAIF ON THE STEPPE + +II. BY THE VOLGA + +III. DIPLOMATIC + +IV. DON QUIXOTE + +V. THE BARON + +VI. THE TALLEYRAND CLUB + +VII. OLD HANDS + +VIII. SAFE! + +IX. THE PRINCE + +X. THE MOSCOW DOCTOR + +XI. CATRINA + +XII. AT THORS + +XIII. UNMASKED + +XIV. A WIRE-PULLER + +XV. IN A WINTER CITY + +XVI. THE THIN END + +XVII. CHARITY + +XVIII. IN THE CHAMPS ÉLYSÉES + +XIX. ON THE NEVA + +XX. AN OFFER OF FRIENDSHIP + +XXI. A SUSPECTED HOUSE + +XXII. THE SPIDER AND THE FLY + +XXIII. A WINTER SCENE + +XXIV. HOME + +XXV. OSTERNO + +XXVI. BLOODHOUNDS + +XXVII. IN THE WEB + +XXVIII. IN THE CASTLE OF THORS + +XXIX. ANGLO-RUSSIAN + +XXX. WOLF! + +XXXI. A DANGEROUS EXPERIMENT + +XXXII. A CLOUD + +XXXIII. THE NET IS DRAWN + +XXXIV. AN APPEAL + +XXXV. ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM + +XXXVI. À TROIS + +XXXVII. À DEUX + +XXXVIII. A TALE THAT IS TOLD + +XXXIX. HUSBAND AND WIFE + +XL. STÉPAN RETURNS + +XLI. DUTY + +XLII. THE STORM BURSTS + +XLIII. BEHIND THE VEIL + +XLIV. KISMET + + + +THE SOWERS + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +A WAIF ON THE STEPPE + +"In this country charity covers no sins!" + +The speaker finished his remark with a short laugh. He was a big, stout +man; his name was Karl Steinmetz, and it is a name well known in the +Government of Tver to this day. He spoke jerkily, as stout men do when +they ride, and when he had laughed his good-natured, half-cynical laugh, +he closed his lips beneath a huge gray mustache. So far as one could +judge from the action of a square and deeply indented chin, his mouth +was expressive at that time--and possibly at all times--of a humorous +resignation. No reply was vouchsafed to him, and Karl Steinmetz bumped +along on his little Cossack horse, which was stretched out at a gallop. + +Evening was drawing on. It was late in October, and a cold wind was +driving from the north-west across a plain which for sheer dismalness of +aspect may give points to Sahara and beat that abode of mental +depression without an effort. So far as the eye could reach there was no +habitation to break the line of horizon. A few stunted fir-trees, +standing in a position of permanent deprecation, with their backs +turned, as it were, to the north, stood sparsely on the plain. The grass +did not look good to eat, though the Cossack horses would no doubt have +liked to try it. The road seemed to have been drawn by some Titan +engineer with a ruler from horizon to horizon. + +Away to the south there was a forest of the same stunted pines, where a +few charcoal-burners and resin-tappers eked out a forlorn and obscure +existence. There are a score of such settlements, such gloomy forests, +dotted over this plain of Tver, which covers an area of nearly two +hundred square miles. The remainder of it is pasture, where miserable +cattle and a few horses, many sheep and countless pigs, seek their food +pessimistically from God. + +Steinmetz looked round over this cheerless prospect with a twinkle of +amused resignation in his blue eyes, as if this creation were a little +practical joke, which he, Karl Steinmetz, appreciated at its proper +worth. The whole scene was suggestive of immense distance, of countless +miles in all directions--a suggestion not conveyed by any scene in +England, by few in Europe. In our crowded island we have no conception +of a thousand miles. How can we? Few of us have travelled five hundred +at a stretch. The land through which these men were riding is the home +of great distances--Russia. They rode, moreover, as if they knew it--as +if they had ridden for days and were aware of more days in front of +them. + +The companion of Karl Steinmetz looked like an Englishman. He was young +and fair and quiet. He looked like a youthful athlete from Oxford or +Cambridge--a simple-minded person who had jumped higher or run quicker +than anybody else without conceit, taking himself, like St. Paul, as he +found himself and giving the credit elsewhere. And one finds that, after +all, in this world of deceit, we are most of us that which we look like. +You, madam, look thirty-five to a day, although your figure is still +youthful, your hair untouched by gray, your face unseamed by care. You +may look in your mirror and note these accidents with satisfaction; you +may feel young and indulge in the pastimes of youth without effort. But +you are thirty-five. We know it. We who look at you can see it for +ourselves, and, if you could only be brought to believe it, we think no +worse of you on that account. + +The man who rode beside Karl Steinmetz with gloomy eyes and a vague +suggestion of flight in his whole demeanor was, like reader and writer, +exactly what he seemed. He was the product of an English public school +and university. He was, moreover, a modern product of those seats of +athletic exercise. He had little education and highly developed +muscles--that is to say, he was no scholar but essentially a +gentleman--a good enough education in its way, and long may Britons seek +it! + +This young man's name was Paul Howard Alexis, and Fortune had made him a +Russian prince. If, however, anyone, even Steinmetz, called him prince, +he blushed and became confused. This terrible title had brooded over him +while at Eton and Cambridge. But no one had found him out; he remained +Paul Howard Alexis so far as England and his friends were concerned. In +Russia, however, he was known (by name only, for he avoided Slavonic +society) as Prince Pavlo Alexis. This plain was his; half the Government +of Tver was his; the great Volga rolled through his possessions; sixty +miles behind him a grim stone castle bore his name, and a tract of land +as vast as Yorkshire was peopled by humble-minded persons who cringed at +the mention of his Excellency. + +All this because thirty years earlier a certain Princess Natásha Alexis +had fallen in love with plain Mr. Howard of the British Embassy in St. +Petersburg. With Slavonic enthusiasm (for the Russian is the most +romantic race on earth) she informed Mr. Howard of the fact, and duly +married him. Both these persons were now dead, and Paul Howard Alexis +owed it to his mother's influence in high regions that the +responsibilities of princedom were his. At the time when this title was +accorded to him he had no say in the matter. Indeed, he had little say +in any matters except meals, which he still took in liquid form. Certain +it is, however, that he failed to appreciate his honors as soon as he +grew up to a proper comprehension of them. + +Equally certain is it that he entirely failed to recognize the +enviability of his position as he rode across the plains of Tver toward +the yellow Volga by the side of Karl Steinmetz. + +"This is great nonsense," he said suddenly. "I feel like a Nihilist or +some theatrical person of that sort. I do not think it can be necessary, +Steinmetz." + +"Not necessary," answered Steinmetz in thick guttural tones, "but +prudent." + +This man spoke with the soft consonants of a German. + +"Prudent, my dear prince." + +"Oh, drop that!" + +"When we sight the Volga I will drop it with pleasure. Good Heavens! I +wish I were a prince. I should have it marked on my linen, and sit up in +bed to read it on my nightshirt." + +"No, you wouldn't, Steinmetz," answered Alexis, with a vexed laugh. "You +would hate it just as much as I do, especially if it meant running away +from the best bear-shooting in Europe." + +Steinmetz shrugged his shoulders. + +"Then you should not have been charitable--charity, I tell you, Alexis, +covers no sins in this country." + +"Who made me charitable? Besides, no decent-minded fellow could be +anything else here. Who told me of the League of Charity, I should like +to know? Who put me into it? Who aroused my pity for these poor beggars? +Who but a stout German cynic called Steinmetz?" + +"Stout, yes--cynic, if you will--German, no!" + +The words were jerked out of him by the galloping horse. + +"Then what are you?" + +Steinmetz looked straight in front of him, with a meditation in his +quiet eyes which made a dreamy man of him. + +"That depends." + +Alexis laughed. + +"Yes, I know. In Germany you are a German, in Russia a Slav, in Poland a +Pole, and in England any thing the moment suggests." + +"Exactly so. But to return to you. You must trust to me in this matter. +I know this country. I know what this League of Charity was. It was a +bigger thing than any dream of. It was a power in Russia--the greatest +of all--above Nihilism--above the Emperor himself. Ach Gott! It was a +wonderful organization, spreading over this country like sunlight over a +field. It would have made men of our poor peasants. It was God's work. +If there is a God--bien entendu--which some young men deny, because God +fails to recognize their importance, I imagine. And now it is all done. +It is crumbled up by the scurrilous treachery of some miscreant. Ach! I +should like to have him out here on the plain. I would choke him. For +money, too! The devil--it must have been the devil--to sell that secret +to the Government!" + +"I can't see what the Government wanted it for," growled Alexis moodily. + +"No, but I can. It is not the Emperor; he is a gentleman, although he +has the misfortune to wear the purple. No, it is those about him. They +want to stop education; they want to crush the peasant. They are afraid +of being found out; they live in their grand houses, and support their +grand names on the money they crush out of the starving peasant." + +"So do I, so far as that goes." + +"Of course you do! And I am your steward--your crusher. We do not deny +it, we boast of it, but we exchange a wink with the angels--eh?" + +Alexis rode on in silence for a few moments. He sat his horse as English +foxhunters do--not prettily--and the little animal with erect head and +scraggy neck was evidently worried by the unusual grip on his ribs. For +Russians sit back, with a short stirrup and a loose seat, when they are +travelling. One must not form one's idea of Russian horsemanship from +the erect carriage affected in the Newski Prospect. + +"I wish," he said abruptly, "that I had never attempted to do any good; +doing good to mankind doesn't pay. Here I am running away from my own +home as if I were afraid of the police! The position is impossible." + +Steinmetz shook his shaggy head. + +"No. No position is impossible in this country--except the Czar's--if +one only keeps cool. For men such as you and I any position is quite +easy. But these Russians are too romantic--too exaltés--they give way to +a morbid love of martyrdom: they think they can do no good to mankind +unless they are uncomfortable." + +Alexis turned in his saddle and looked keenly into his companion's face. + +"Do you know," he said, "I believe you founded the Charity League?" + +Steinmetz laughed in his easy, stout way. + +"It founded itself," he said; "the angels founded it in heaven. I hope a +committee of them will attend to the eternal misery of the dog who +betrayed it." + +"I trust they will, but in the meantime I stick to my opinion that it is +unnecessary for me to leave the country. What have I done? I do not +belong to the League; it is composed entirely of Russian nobles; I don't +admit that I am a Russian noble." + +"But," persisted Steinmetz quietly, "you subscribe to the League. Four +hundred thousand rubles--they do not grow at the roadside." + +"But the rubles have not my name on them." + +"That may be, but we all--_they all_--know where they are likely to come +from. My dear Paul, you cannot keep up the farce any longer. You are not +an English gentleman who comes across here for sporting purposes; you do +not live in the old Castle of Osterno three months in the year because +you have a taste for mediaeval fortresses. You are a Russian prince, and +your estates are the happiest, the most enlightened in the empire. That +alone is suspicious. You collect your rents yourself. You have no German +agents--no German vampires about you. There are a thousand things +suspicious about Prince Pavlo Alexis if those that be in high places +only come to think about it. They have not come to think about +it--thanks to our care and to your English independence. But that is +only another reason why we should redouble our care. You must not be in +Russia when the Charity League is picked to pieces. There will be +trouble--half the nobility in Russia will be in it. There will be +confiscations and degradations: there will be imprisonment and Siberia +for some. You are better out of it, for you are not an Englishman; you +have not even a Foreign Office passport. Your passport is your patent of +nobility, and that is Russian. No, you are better out of it." + +"And you--what about you?" asked Paul, with a little laugh--the laugh +that one brave man gives when he sees another do a plucky thing. + +"I! Oh, I am all right! I am nobody; I am hated of all the peasants +because I am your steward and so hard--so cruel. That is my certificate +of harmlessness with those that are about the Emperor." + +Paul made no answer. He was not of an argumentative mind, being a large +man, and consequently inclined to the sins of omission rather than to +the active form of doing wrong. He had an enormous faith in Karl +Steinmetz, and, indeed, no man knew Russia better than this cosmopolitan +adventurer. Steinmetz it was who pricked forward with all speed, wearing +his hardy little horse to a drooping semblance of its former self. +Steinmetz it was who had recommended quitting the travelling carriage +and taking to the saddle, although his own bulk led him to prefer the +slower and more comfortable method of covering space. It would almost +seem that he doubted his own ascendency over his companion and master, +which semblance was further increased by a subtle ring of anxiety in his +voice while he argued. It is possible that Karl Steinmetz suspected the +late Princess Natásha of having transmitted to her son a small +hereditary portion of that Slavonic exaltation and recklessness of +consequence which he deplored. + +"Then you turn back at Tver?" enquired Paul, at length breaking a long +silence. + +"Yes; I must not leave Osterno just now. Perhaps later, when the winter +has come, I will follow. Russia is quiet during the winter, very quiet. +Ha, ha!" + +He shrugged his shoulders and shivered. But the shiver was interrupted. +He raised himself in his saddle and peered forward into the gathering +darkness. + +"What is that," he asked sharply, "on the road in front?" + +Paul had already seen it. + +"It looks like a horse," he answered--"a strayed horse, for it has no +rider." + +They were going west, and what little daylight there was lived on the +western horizon. The form of the horse, cut out in black relief against +the sky, was weird and ghostlike. It was standing by the side of the +road, apparently grazing. As they approached it, its outlines became +more defined. + +"It has a saddle," said Steinmetz at length. "What have we here?" + +The beast was evidently famishing, for, as they came near, it never +ceased its occupation of dragging the wizened tufts of grass up, root +and all. + +"What have we here?" repeated Steinmetz. + +And the two men clapped spurs to their tired horses. + +The solitary waif had a rider, but he was not in the saddle. One foot +was caught in the stirrup, and as the horse moved on from tuft to tuft +it dragged its dead master along the ground. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +BY THE VOLGA + +"This is going to be unpleasant," muttered Steinmetz, as he cumbrously +left the saddle. "That man is dead--has been dead some days; he's stiff. +And the horse has been dragging him face downward. God in heaven! this +will be unpleasant." + +Paul had leaped to the ground, and was already loosening the dead man's +foot from the stirrup. He did it with a certain sort of skill, despite +the stiffness of the heavy riding-boot, as if he had walked a hospital +in his time. Very quickly Steinmetz came to his assistance, tenderly +lifting the dead man and laying him on his back. + +"Ach!" he exclaimed; "we are unfortunate to meet a thing like this." + +There was no need of Paul Alexis' medical skill to tell that this man +was dead; a child would have known it. Before searching the pockets +Steinmetz took out his own handkerchief and laid it over a face which +had become unrecognizable. The horse was standing over them. It bent its +head and sniffed wonderingly at that which had once been its master. +There was a singular, scared look in its eyes. + +Steinmetz pushed aside the enquiring muzzle. + +"If you could speak, my friend," he said, "we might want you. As it is, +you had better continue your meal." + +Paul was unbuttoning the dead man's clothes. He inserted his hand within +the rough shirt. + +"This man," he said, "was starving. He probably fainted from sheer +exhaustion and rolled out of the saddle. It is hunger that killed him." + +"With his pocket full of money," added Steinmetz, withdrawing his hand +from the dead man's pocket and displaying a bundle of notes and some +silver. + +There was nothing in any of the other pockets--no paper, no clue of any +sort to the man's identity. + +The two finders of this silent tragedy stood up and looked around them. +It was almost dark. They were ten miles from a habitation. It does not +sound much; but a traveller would be hard put to place ten miles between +himself and a habitation in the whole of the British Islands. This, +added to a lack of road or path which is unknown to us in England, made +ten miles of some importance. + +Steinmetz had pushed his fur cap to the back of his head, which he was +scratching pensively. He had a habit of scratching his forehead with one +finger, which denoted thought. + +"Now, what are we to do?" he muttered. "Can't bury the poor chap and say +nothing about it. I wonder where his passport is? We have here a +tragedy." + +He turned to the horse, which was grazing hurriedly. + +"My friend of the four legs," he said, "it is a thousand pities that you +are dumb." + +Paul was still examining the dead man with that callousness which +denotes one who, for love or convenience, has become a doctor. He was a +doctor--an amateur. He was a Caius man. + +Steinmetz looked down at him with a little laugh. He noticed the +tenderness of the touch, the deft fingering which had something of +respect in it. Paul Alexis was visibly one of those men who take mankind +seriously, and have that in their hearts which for want of a better word +we call sympathy. + +"Mind you do not catch some infectious disease," said Steinmetz gruffly. +"I should not care to handle any stray moujik one finds dead about the +roadside; unless, of course, you think there is more money about him. It +would be a pity to leave that for the police." + +Paul did not answer. He was examining the limp, dirty hands of the dead +man. The fingers were covered with soil, the nails were broken. He had +evidently clutched at the earth and at every tuft of grass, after his +fall from the saddle. + +"Look here, at these hands," said Paul suddenly. "This is an Englishman. +You never see fingers this shape in Russia." + +Steinmetz stooped down. He held out his own square-tipped fingers in +comparison. Paul rubbed the dead hand with his sleeve as if it were a +piece of statuary. + +"Look here," he continued, "the dirt rubs off and leaves the hand quite +a gentlemanly color. This"--he paused and lifted Steinmetz's +handkerchief, dropping it again hurriedly over the mutilated face--"this +thing was once a gentleman." + +"It certainly has seen better days," admitted Steinmetz, with a grim +humor which was sometimes his. "Come, let us drag him beneath that +pine-tree and ride on to Tver. We shall do no good, my dear Alexis, +wasting our time over the possible antecedents of a gentleman who, for +reasons of his own, is silent on the subject." + +Paul rose from the ground. His movements were those of a strong and +supple man, one whose muscles had never had time to grow stiff. He was +an active man, who never hurried. Standing thus upright he was very +tall--nearly a giant. Only in St. Petersburg, of all the cities of the +world, could he expect to pass unnoticed--the city of tall men and plain +women. He rubbed his two hands together in a singularly professional +manner which sat amiss on him. + +"What do you propose doing?" he asked. "You know the laws of this +country better than I do." + +Steinmetz scratched his forehead with his forefinger. + +"Our theatrical friends the police," he said, "are going to enjoy this. +Suppose we prop him up sitting against that tree--no one will run away +with him--and lead his horse into Tver. I will give notice to the +police, but I will not do so until you are in the Petersburg train. I +will, of course, give the ispravnik to understand that your princely +mind could not be bothered by such details as this--that you have +proceeded on your journey." + +"I do not like leaving the poor beggar alone all night," said Paul. +"There may be wolves--the crows in the early morning." + +"Bah! that is because you are so soft-hearted. My dear fellow, what +business is it of ours if the universal laws of nature are illustrated +upon this unpleasant object? We all live on each other. The wolves and +the crows have the last word. Tant mieux for the wolves and the crows! +Come, let us carry him to that tree." + +The moon was just rising over the line of the horizon. All around them +the steppe lay in grim and lifeless silence. In such a scene, where life +seemed rare and precious, death gained in its power of inspiring fear. +It is different in crowded cities, where an excess of human life seems +to vouch for the continuity of the race, where, in a teeming population, +one life more or less seems of little value. The rosy hue of sunset was +fading to a clear green, and in the midst of a cloudless sky, +Jupiter--very near the earth at that time--shone intense, and brilliant +like a lamp. It was an evening such as only Russia and the great North +lands ever see, where the sunset is almost in the north and the sunrise +holds it by the hand. Over the whole scene there hung a clear, +transparent night, green and shimmering, which would never be darker +than an English twilight. + +The two living men carried the nameless, unrecognizable dead to a +resting-place beneath a stunted pine a few paces removed from the road. +They laid him decently at full length, crossing his soil-begrimed hands +over his breast, tying the handkerchief down over his face. + +Then they turned and left him, alone in that luminous night. A waif that +had fallen by the great highway without a word, without a sign. A +half-run race--a story cut off in the middle; for he was a young man +still; his hair, all dusty, draggled, and bloodstained, had no streak of +gray; his hands were smooth and youthful. There was a vague suspicion of +sensual softness about his body, as if this might have been a man who +loved comfort and ease, who had always chosen the primrose path, had +never learned the salutary lesson of self-denial. The incipient +stoutness of limb contrasted strangely with the drawn meagreness of his +body, which was contracted by want of food. Paul Alexis was right. This +man had died of starvation, within ten miles of the great Volga, within +nine miles of the outskirts of Tver, a city second to Moscow, and once +her rival. Therefore it could only be that he had purposely avoided the +dwellings of men; that he was a fugitive of some sort or another. Paul's +theory that this was an Englishman had not been received with enthusiasm +by Steinmetz; but that philosopher had stooped to inspect the narrow, +tell-tale fingers. Steinmetz, be it noted, had an infinite capacity for +holding his tongue. + +They mounted their horses and rode away without looking back. But they +did not speak, as if each were deep in his own thoughts. Material had +indeed been afforded them, for who could tell who this featureless man +might be? They were left in a state of hopeless curiosity, as who, +having picked up a page with "Finis" written upon it, falls to wondering +what the story may have been. + +Steinmetz had thrown the bridle of the straying horse over his arm, and +the animal trotted obediently by the side of the fidgety little +Cossacks. + +"That was bad luck," exclaimed the elder man at length, "d--d bad luck! +In this country the less you find, the less you see, the less you +understand, the simpler is your existence. Those Nihilists, with their +mysterious ways and their reprehensible love of explosives, have made +honest men's lives a burden to them." + +"Their motives were originally good," put in Paul. + +"That is possible; but a good motive is no excuse for a bad means. They +wanted to get along too quickly. They are pig-headed, exalted, +unpractical to a man. I do not mention the women, because when women +meddle in politics they make fools of themselves, even in England. These +Nihilists would have been all very well if they had been content to sow +for posterity. But they wanted to see the fruits of their labors in one +generation. Education does not grow like that. It requires a couple of +generations to germinate. It has to be manured by the brains of fools +before it is of any use. In England it has reached this stage; here in +Russia the sowing has only begun. Now, we were doing some good. The +Charity League was the thing. It began by training their starved bodies +to be ready for the education when it came. And very little of it would +have come in our time. If you educate a hungry man, you set a devil +loose upon the world. Fill their stomachs before you feed their brains, +or you will give them mental indigestion; and a man with mental +indigestion raises hell or cuts his own throat." + +"That is just what I want to do--fill their stomachs. I don't care about +the rest. I'm not responsible for the progress of the world or the good +of humanity," said Paul. + +He rode on in silence; then he burst out again in the curt phraseology +of a man whose feeling is stronger than he cares to admit. + +"I've got no grand ideas about the human race," he said. "A very little +contents me. A little piece of Tver, a few thousand peasants, are good +enough for me. It seems rather hard that a fellow can't give away of his +surplus money in charity if he is such a fool as to want to." + +Steinmetz was riding stubbornly along. Suddenly he gave a little +chuckle--a guttural sound expressive of a somewhat Germanic +satisfaction. + +"I don't see how they can stop us," he said. "The League, of course, is +done; it will crumble away in sheer panic. But here, in Tver, they +cannot stop us." + +He clapped his great hand on his thigh with more glee than one would +have expected him to feel; for this man posed as a cynic--a despiser of +men, a scoffer at charity. + +"They'll find it very difficult to stop me," muttered Paul Alexis. + +It was now dark--as dark as ever it would be. Steinmetz peered through +the gloom toward him with a little laugh--half tolerance, half +admiration. + +The country was here a little more broken. Long, low hills, like vast +waves, rose and fell beneath the horses' feet. Ages ago the Volga may +have been here, and, slowly narrowing, must have left these hills in +deposit. From the crest of an incline the horsemen looked down over a +vast rolling tableland, and far ahead of them a great white streak +bounded the horizon. + +"The Volga!" said Steinmetz. "We are almost there. And there, to the +right, is the Tversha. It is like a great catapult. Gott! what a +wonderful night! No wonder these Russians are romantic. What a night for +a pipe and a long chair! This horse of mine is tired. He shakes me most +abominably." + +"Like to change?" enquired Paul curtly. + +"No; it would make no difference. You are as heavy as I, although I am +wider! Ah! there are the lights of Tver." + +Ahead of them a few lights twinkled feebly, sometimes visible and then +hidden again as they rode over the rolling hillocks. One plain ever +suggests another, but the resemblance between the steppes of Tver and +the great Sahara is at times startling. There is in both that roll as of +the sea--the great roll that heaves unceasingly round the Capes of Good +Hope and Horn. Looked at casually, Tver and Sahara's plains are level, +and it is only in crossing them that one realizes the gentle up and down +beneath the horses' feet. + +Soon Steinmetz raised his head and sniffed in a loud Teutonic manner. It +was the reek of water; for great rivers, like the ocean, have their +smell. And the Volga is a revelation. Men travel far to see a city, but +few seem curious about a river. Every river has, nevertheless, its +individuality, its great silent interest. Every river has, moreover, its +influence, which extends to the people who pass their lives within sight +of its waters. Thus the Guadalquivir is rapid, mysterious, +untrammelled--breaking frequently from its boundary. And it runs through +Andalusia. The Nile--the river of ages--runs clear, untroubled through +the centuries, between banks untouched by man. The Rhine--romantic, +cultivated, artificial, with a rough subcurrent and a muddy bed--through +Germany. The Seine and the Thames--shallow--shallow--shallow. And +we--who live upon their banks! + +The Volga--immense, stupendous, a great power, an influence two thousand +four hundred miles long. Some have seen the Danube, and think they have +seen a great river. So they have; but the Russian giant is seven hundred +miles longer. A vast yellow stream, moving on to the distant sea--slow, +gentle, inexorable, overwhelming. + +All great things in nature have the power of crushing the human +intellect. Russians are thus crushed by the vastness of their country, +of their rivers. Man is but a small thing in a great country, and those +who live by Nile, or Guadalquivir, or Volga seem to hold their lives on +condition. They exist from day to day by the tolerance of their river. + +Steinmetz and Paul paused for a moment on the wooden floating bridge and +looked at the great river. All who cross that bridge, or the railway +bridge higher up the stream, must do the same. They pause and draw a +deep breath, as if in the presence of something supernatural. + +They rode on without speaking through the squalid town--the whilom rival +and the victim of brilliant Moscow. They rode straight to the station, +where they dined in, by the way, one of the best railway refreshment +rooms in the world. At one o'clock the night express from Moscow to St. +Petersburg, with its huge American locomotive, rumbled into the station. +Paul secured a chair in the long saloon car, and then returned to the +platform. The train waited twenty minutes for refreshments, and he still +had much to say to Steinmetz; for one of these men owned a principality +and the other governed it. They walked up and down the long platform, +smoking endless cigarettes, talking gravely. + +Steinmetz stood on the platform and watched the train pass slowly away +into the night. Then he went toward a lamp, and taking a +pocket-handkerchief from his pocket, examined each corner of it in +succession. It was a small pocket-handkerchief of fine cambric. In one +corner were the initials S.S.B., worked neatly in white--such embroidery +as is done in St. Petersburg. + +"Ach!" exclaimed Steinmetz shortly; "something told me that that was +he." + +He turned the little piece of cambric over and over, examining it +slowly, with a heavy Germanic cunning. He had taken this handkerchief +from the body of the nameless rider who was now lying alone on the +steppe twelve miles away. + +Steinmetz returned to the large refreshment room, and ordered the waiter +to bring him a glass of Benedictine, which he drank slowly and +thoughtfully. + +Then he went toward the large black stove which stands in the railway +restaurant at Tver. He opened the door with the point of his boot. The +wood was roaring and crackling within. He threw the handkerchief in and +closed the door. + +"It is as well, mon prince," he muttered, "that I found this, and not +you." + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +DIPLOMATIC + +"All that there is of the most brilliant and least truthful in Europe," +M. Claude de Chauxville had said to a lady earlier in the evening, +apropos of the great gathering at the French Embassy, and the mot had +gone the round of the room. + +In society a little mot will go a long way. M. le Baron de Chauxville +was, moreover, a manufacturer of mots. By calling he was attaché to the +French Embassy in London; by profession he was an epigrammatist. That is +to say, he was a sort of social revolver. He went off if one touched him +conversationally, and like others among us, he frequently missed fire. + +Of course, he had but little real respect for the truth. If one wishes +to be epigrammatic, one must relinquish the hope of being either +agreeable or veracious. M. de Chauxville did not really intend to convey +the idea that any of the persons assembled in the great guest chambers +of the French Embassy that evening were anything but what they seemed. + +He could not surely imagine that Lady Mealhead--the beautiful spouse of +the seventh Earl Mealhead--was anything but what she seemed: namely, a +great lady. Of course, M. de Chauxville knew that Lady Mealhead had once +been the darling of the music-halls, and that a thousand hearts had +vociferously gone out to her from sixpenny and even threepenny galleries +when she answered to the name of Tiny Smalltoes. But then M. de +Chauxville knew as well as you and I--Lady Mealhead no doubt had told +him--that she was the daughter of a clergyman, and had chosen the stage +in preference to the school-room as a means of supporting her aged +mother. Whether M. de Chauxville believed this or not, it is not for us +to enquire. He certainly looked as if he believed it when Lady Mealhead +told him--and his expressive Gallic eyes waxed tender at the mention of +her mother, the relict of the late clergyman, whose name had somehow +been overlooked by Crockford. A Frenchman loves his mother--in the +abstract. + +Nor could M. de Chauxville take exception at young Cyril Squyrt, the +poet. Cyril looked like a poet. He wore his hair over his collar at the +back, and below the collar-bone in front. And, moreover, he was a +poet--one of those who write for ages yet unborn. Besides, his poems +could be bought (of the publisher only; the railway bookstall men did +not understand them) beautifully bound; really beautifully bound in +white kid, with green ribbon--a very thin volume and very thin poetry. +Meddlesome persons have been known to state that Cyril Squyrt's father +kept a prosperous hot-sausage-and-mashed-potato shop in Leeds. But one +must not always believe all that one hears. + +It appears that beneath the turf, or on it, all men are equal, so no one +could object to the presence of Billy Bale, the man, by Gad! who could +give you the straight tip on any race, and looked like it. We all know +Bale's livery stable, the same being Billy's father; but no matter. +Billy wears the best cut riding-breeches in the Park, and, let me tell +you, there are many folk in society with a smaller recommendation than +that. + +Now, it is not our business to go round the rooms of the French Embassy +picking holes in the earthly robes of society's elect. Suffice it to say +that every one was there. Miss Kate Whyte, of course, who had made a +place in society and held it by the indecency of her language. Lady +Mealhead said she couldn't stand Kitty Whyte at any price. We are sorry +to use such a word as indecency in connection with a young person of the +gentler sex, but facts must sometimes be recognized. And it is a bare +fact that society tolerated, nay, encouraged, Kitty Whyte, because +society never knew, and always wanted to know, what she would say next. +She sailed so near to the unsteady breeze of decorum that the +safer-going craft hung breathlessly in her wake in the hope of an upset. + +Every one, in fact, was there. All those who have had greatness thrust +upon them, and the others, those who thrust themselves upon the +great--those, in a word, who reach such as are above them by doing that +which should be beneath them. Lord Mealhead, by the way, was not there. +He never is anywhere where the respectable writer and his high-born +reader are to be found. It is discreet not to enquire where Lord +Mealhead is, especially of Lady Mealhead, who has severed more +completely her connection with the past. His lordship is, perchance, of +a sentimental humor, and loves to wander in those pasteboard groves +where first he met his Tiny--and very natural, too. + +There was music and the refreshments. It was, in fact, a reception. +Gaul's most lively sons bowed before Albion's fairest daughters, and +displayed that fund of verve and esprit which they rightly pride +themselves upon possessing, and which, of course, leave mere Englishmen +so far behind in the paths of love and chivalry. + +When not thus actively engaged they whispered together in corners and +nudged each other, exchanging muttered comments, in which the word +charmante came conveniently to the fore. Thus, the lightsome son of +republican Gaul in society. + +It is, however, high time to explain the reason of our own presence--of +our own reception by France's courteous representative. We are here to +meet Mrs. Sydney Bamborough, and, moreover, to confine our attention to +the persons more or less implicated in the present history. + +Mrs. Sydney Bamborough was undoubtedly the belle of the evening. She had +only to look in one of the many mirrors to make sure of that fact. And +if she wanted further assurance a hundred men in the room would have +been ready to swear to it. This lady had recently dawned on London +society--a young widow. She rarely mentioned her husband; it was +understood to be a painful subject. He had been attached to several +embassies, she said; he had a brilliant career before him, and suddenly +he had died abroad. And then she gave a little sigh and a bright smile, +which, being interpreted, meant "Let us change the subject." + +There was never any doubt about Mrs. Sydney Bamborough. She was +aristocratic to the tips of her dainty white fingers--composed, gentle, +and quite sure of herself. Quite the grand lady, as Lady Mealhead said. +But Mrs. Sydney Bamborough did not know Lady Mealhead, which may have +accounted for the titled woman's little sniff of interrogation. As a +matter of fact, Etta Sydney Bamborough came from excellent ancestry, and +could claim an uncle here, a cousin there, and a number of distant +relatives everywhere, should it be worth the while. + +It was safe to presume that she was rich from the manner in which she +dressed, the number of servants and horses she kept, the general air of +wealth which pervaded her existence. That she was beautiful any one +could see for himself--not in the shop-windows, among the presumably +self-selected types of English beauty, but in the proper place--namely, +in her own and other aristocratic drawing-rooms. + +She was talking to a tall, fair Frenchman--in perfect French--and was +herself nearly as tall as he. Bright brown hair waved prettily back from +a white forehead, clever, dark gray eyes and a lovely complexion--one of +those complexions which, from a purity of conscience or a steadiness of +nerve, never change. Cheeks of a faint pink, an expressive, mobile +mouth, a neck of dazzling white. Such was Mrs. Sydney Bamborough, in the +prime of her youth. + +"And you maintain that it is five years since we met," she was saying to +the tall Frenchman. + +"Have I not counted every day?" he replied. + +"I do not know," she answered, with a little laugh, that little laugh +which tells wise men where flattery may be shot like so much +conversational rubbish. Some women are fathomless pits, the rubbish +never seems to fill them. "I do not know, but I should not think so." + +"Well, madam, it is so. Witness these gray hairs. Ah! those were happy +days in St. Petersburg." + +Mrs. Sydney Bamborough smiled--a pleasant society smile, not too +pronounced and just sufficient to suggest pearly teeth. At the mention +of St. Petersburg she glanced round to see that they were not overheard. +She gave a little shiver. + +"Don't speak of Russia!" she pleaded. "I hate to hear it mentioned. I +was so happy. It is painful to remember." + +Even while she spoke the expression of her face changed to one of gay +delight. She nodded and smiled toward a tall man who was evidently +looking for her, and took no notice of the Frenchman's apologies. + +"Who _is_ that?" asked the young man. "I see him everywhere lately." + +"A mere English gentleman, Mr. Paul Howard Alexis," replied the lady. + +The Frenchman raised his eyebrows. He knew better. This was no plain +English gentleman. He bowed and took his leave. M. de Chauxville of the +French Embassy was watching every movement, every change of expression, +from across the room. + +In evening dress the man whom we last saw on the platform of the railway +station at Tver did not look so unmistakably English. It was more +evident that he had inherited certain characteristics from his Russian +mother--notably, his great height, a physical advantage enjoyed by many +aristocratic Russian families. His hair was fair and inclined to curl, +and there the foreign suggestion suddenly ceased. His face had the quiet +concentration, the unobtrusive self-absorption which one sees more +strongly marked in English faces than in any others. His manner of +moving through the well-dressed crowd somewhat belied the tan of his +skin. Here was an out-of-door, athletic youth, who knew how to move in +drawing-rooms--a big man who did not look much too large for his +surroundings. It was evident that he did not know many people, and also +that he was indifferent to his loss. He had come to see Mrs. Sydney +Bamborough, and that lady was not insensible to the fact. + +To prove this she diverged from the path of veracity, as is the way of +some women. + +"I did not expect to see you here," she said. + +"You told me you were coming," he answered simply. The inference would +have been enough for some women, but not for Etta Sydney Bamborough. + +"Well, is that a reason why you should attend a diplomatic soirée, and +force yourself to bow and smirk to a number of white-handed little +dandies whom you despise?" + +"The best reason," he answered quietly, with an honesty which somehow +touched her as nothing else had touched this beautiful woman since she +had become aware of her beauty. + +"Then you think it worth the bowing and the smirking?" she asked, +looking past him with innocent eyes. She made an imperceptible little +movement toward him as if she expected him to whisper. She was of that +school. But he was not. His was not the sort of mind to conceive any +thought that required whispering. Some persons in fact went so far as to +say that he was hopelessly dull, that he had no subtlety of thought, no +brightness, no conversation. These persons were no doubt ladies upon +whom he had failed to lavish the exceedingly small change of compliment. + +"It is worth that and more," he replied, with his ready smile. "After +all, bowing and smirking come very easily. One soon gets accustomed to +it." + +"One has to," she replied with a little sigh. "Especially if one is a +woman, which little mishap comes to some of us, you know. I wonder if +you could find me a chair." + +She was standing with her back to a small sofa capable of holding three, +but calculated to accommodate two. She did not of course see it. In fact +she looked everywhere but toward it, raising her perfectly gloved +fingers tentatively for his arm. + +"I am tired of standing," she added. + +He turned and indicated the sofa, toward which she immediately advanced. +As she sat down he noted vaguely that she was exquisitely dressed, +certainly one of the best dressed women in the room. Her costume was +daring without being startling, being merely black and white largely, +boldly contrasted. He felt indefinitely proud of the dress. Some +instinct in the man's simple, strong mind told him that it was good for +women to be beautiful, but his ignorance of the sex being profound he +had no desire to analyze the beauty. He had no mental reservation with +regard to her. Indeed it would have been hard to find fault with Etta +Sydney Bamborough, looking upon her merely as a beautiful woman, +exquisitely dressed. In a cynical age this man was without cynicism. He +did not dream of reflecting that the lovely hair owed half its beauty to +the clever handling of a maid, that the perfect dress had been the +all-absorbing topic of many of its wearer's leisure hours. He was, in +fact, young for his years, and what is youth but a happy ignorance? It +is only when we know too much that Gravity marks us for her own. + +Mrs. Sydney Bamborough looked up at him with a certain admiration. This +man was like a mountain breeze to one who has breathed nothing but the +faded air of drawing-rooms. + +She drew in her train with a pretty curve of her gloved wrist. + +"You look as if you did not know what it was to be tired; but perhaps +you will sit down. I can make room." + +He accepted with alacrity. + +"And now," she said, "let me hear where you have been. I have only had +time to shake hands with you the last twice that we have met! You said +you had been away." + +"Yes; I have been to Russia." + +Her face was steadily beautiful, composed and ready. + +"Ah! How interesting! I have been in Petersburg. I love Russia." While +she spoke she was actually looking across the room toward the tall +Frenchman, her late companion. + +"Do you?" answered Paul eagerly. His face lighted up after the manner of +those countenances that belong to men of one idea. "I am very much +interested in Russia." + +"Do you know Petersburg?" she asked rather hurriedly. "I mean--society +there?" + +"No. I know one or two people in Moscow." + +She nodded, suppressing a quick little sigh which might have been one of +relief had her face been less pleasant and smiling. + +"Who?" she asked indifferently. She was interested in the lace of her +pocket-handkerchief, of which the scent faintly reached him. He was a +simple person, and the faint odor gave him a distinct pleasure--a +suggested intimacy. + +He mentioned several well-known Muscovite names, and she broke into a +sudden laugh. + +"How terrible they sound," she said gayly, "even to me, and I have been +to Petersburg. But you speak Russian, Mr. Alexis?" + +"Yes," he answered. "And you?" + +She shook her head and gave a little sigh. + +"I? Oh, no. I am not at all clever, I am afraid." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +DON QUIXOTE + +Paul had been five months in England when he met Mrs. Sydney Bamborough. +Since his hurried departure from Tver a winter had come and gone, +leaving its mark as winters do. It left a very distinct mark on Russia. +It was a famine winter. From the snow-ridden plains that lie to the +north of Moscow, Karl Steinmetz had written piteous descriptions of an +existence which seemed hardly worth the living. But each letter had +terminated with a prayer, remarkably near to a command, that he, Paul +Howard Alexis, should remain in England. So Paul stayed in London, where +he indulged to the full a sadly mistaken hobby. This man had, as we have +seen, that which is called a crank, or a loose screw, according to the +fancy of the speaker. He had conceived the absurd idea of benefiting his +fellow-beings, and of turning into that mistaken channel the surplus +wealth that was his. This, moreover, if it please you, without so much +as forming himself into a society. + +This is an age of societies, and, far from concealing from the left hand +the good which the right may be doing, we publish abroad our charities +on all hands. We publish in a stout volume our names and donations. We +even go so far as to cultivate an artificial charity by meat and drink +and speeches withal. When we have eaten and drunk, the plate is handed +round, and from the fulness of our heart we give abundantly. We are +cunning even in our well-doing. We do not pass round the plate until the +decanters have led the way. And thus we degrade that quality of the +human heart which is the best of all. + +But Paul Howard Alexis had the good fortune to be rich out of England, +and that roaring lion of modern days, organized charity, passed him by. +He was thus left to evolve from his own mind a mistaken sense of his +duty toward his neighbor. That there were thousands of well-meaning +persons in black and other coats ready to prove to him that revenues +gathered from Russia should be spent in the East End or the East Indies, +goes without saying. There are always well-meaning persons among us +ready to direct the charity of others. We have all met those virtuous +persons who do good by proxy. But Paul had not. He had never come face +to face with the charity broker--the man who stands between the needy +and the giver, giving nothing himself, and living on his brokerage, +sitting in a comfortable chair, with his feet on a Turkey carpet in his +office on a main thoroughfare. Paul had met none of these, and the only +organized charity of which he was cognizant was the great Russian +Charity League, betrayed six months earlier to a government which has +ever turned its face against education and enlightenment. In this he had +taken no active part, but he had given largely of his great wealth. That +his name had figured on the list of families sold for a vast sum of +money to the authorities of the Ministry of the Interior seemed all too +sure. But he had had no intimation that he was looked upon with small +favor. The more active members of the League had been less fortunate, +and more than one nobleman had been banished to his estates. + +Although the sum actually paid for the papers of the Charity League was +known, the recipient of the blood money had never been discovered. It +was a large sum, for the government had been quick to recognize the +necessity of nipping this movement in the bud. Education is a dangerous +matter to deal with; England is beginning to find this out for herself. +For on the heels of education socialism ever treads. When at last +education makes a foothold in Russia, that foothold will be on the very +step of the autocratic throne. The Charity League had, as Steinmetz put +it, the primary object of preparing the peasant for education, and +thereafter placing education within his reach. Such proceedings were +naturally held by those in high places to be only second to Nihilism. + +All this, and more which shall transpire in the course of this +narration, was known to Paul. In face of the fact that his name was +prominently before the Russian Ministry of the Interior, he proceeded +all through the winter to ship road-making tools, agricultural +implements, seeds, and food. + +"The prince," said Steinmetz to those who were interested in the matter, +"is mad. He thinks that a Russian principality is to be worked on the +same system as an English estate." + +He would laugh and shrug his shoulders, and then he would sit down and +send a list of further requirements to Paul Howard Alexis, Esquire, in +London. + +Paul had met Mrs. Sydney Bamborough on one or two occasions, and had +been interested in her. From the first he had come under the influence +of her beauty. But she was then a married woman. He met her again toward +the end of the terrible winter to which reference has been made, and +found that a mere acquaintanceship had in the meantime developed into +friendship. He could not have told when and where the great social +barrier had been surmounted and left behind. He only knew in an +indefinite way that some such change had taken place, as all such +changes do, not in intercourse, but in the intervals of absence. It is a +singular fact that we do not make our friends when they are near. The +seed of friendship and love alike is soon sown, and the best is that +which germinates in absence. + +That friendship had rapidly developed into something else Paul became +aware early in the season; and, as we have seen from his conversation, +Mrs. Sydney Bamborough, innocent and guileless as she was, might with +all modesty have divined the state of his feelings had she been less +overshadowed by her widow's weeds. + +She apparently had no such suspicion, for she asked Paul in all good +faith to call the next day and tell her all about Russia--"dear Russia." + +"My cousin Maggie," she added, "is staying with me. She is a dear girl. +I am sure you will like her." + +Paul accepted with alacrity, but reserved to himself the option of +hating Mrs. Sydney Bamborough's cousin Maggie, merely because that young +lady existed and happened to be staying in Upper Brook Street. + +At five o'clock the next afternoon he presented himself at the house of +mourning, and completely filled up its small entrance-hall. + +He was shown into the drawing-room, where he discovered Miss Margaret +Delafield in the act of dragging her hat off in front of the mirror over +the mantelpiece. He heard a suppressed exclamation of amused horror, and +found himself shaking hands with Mrs. Sydney Bamborough. + +The lady mentioned Paul's name and her cousin's relationship in that +casual manner which constitutes an introduction in these degenerate +days. Miss Delafield bowed, laughed, and moved toward the door. She left +the room, and behind her an impression of breeziness and health, of +English girlhood and a certain bright cheerfulness which acts as a +filter in social muddy waters. + +"It is very good of you to come--I was moping," said Mrs. Sydney +Bamborough. She was, as a matter of fact, resting before the work of the +evening. This lady thoroughly understood the art of being beautiful. + +Paul did not answer at once. He was looking at a large photograph which +stood in a frame on the mantelpiece--the photograph of a handsome man of +twenty-eight or thirty, small-featured, fair, and shifty looking. + +"Who is that?" he asked abruptly. + +"Do you not know? My husband." + +Paul muttered an apology, but he did not turn away from the photograph. + +"Oh, never mind," said Mrs. Sydney Bamborough, in reply to his regret +that he had stumbled upon a painful subject. "I never--" + +She paused. + +"No," she went on, "I won't say that." + +But, so far as conveying what she meant was concerned, she might just as +well have uttered the words. + +"I do not want a sympathy which is unmerited," she said gravely. + +He turned and looked at her, sitting in a graceful attitude, the +incarnation of a most refined and nineteenth-century misfortune. She +raised her eyes to his for a moment--a sort of photographic +instantaneous shutter, exposing for the hundredth part of a second the +sensitive plate of her heart. Then she suppressed a sigh--badly. + +"I was married horribly young," she said, "before I knew what I was +doing. But even if I had known I do not suppose I should have had the +strength of mind to resist my father and mother." + +"They forced you into it?" + +"Yes," said Mrs. Bamborough. And it is possible that a respectable and +harmless pair of corpses turned in their respective coffins somewhere in +the neighborhood of Norwood. + +"I hope there is a special hell reserved for parents who ruin their +daughters' lives to suit their own ambition," said Paul, with a sudden +concentrated heat which rather startled his hearer. + +This man was full of surprises for Etta Sydney Bamborough. It was like +playing with fire--a form of amusement which will be popular as long as +feminine curiosity shall last. + +"You are rather shocking," she said lightly. "But it is all over now, so +we need not dig up old grievances. Only I want you to understand that +that photograph represents a part of my life which was only +painful--nothing else." + +Paul, standing in front of her, looked down thoughtfully at the +beautiful upturned face. His hands were clasped behind him, his firm +mouth set sternly beneath the great fair mustache. In Russia the men +have good eyes--blue, fierce, intelligent. Such eyes had the son of the +Princess Alexis. There was something in Etta Bamborough that stirred up +within him a quality which men are slowly losing--namely, chivalry. +Steinmetz held that this man was quixotic, and what Steinmetz said was +usually worth some small attention. Whatever faults that poor knight of +La Mancha who has been the laughing-stock of the world these many +centuries--whatever faults or foolishness may have been his, he was at +all events a gentleman. + +Paul's instinct was to pity this woman for the past that had been hers; +his desire was to help her and protect her, to watch over her and fight +her battles for her. It was what is called Love. But there is no word in +any spoken language that covers so wide a field. Every day and all day +we call many things love which are not love. The real thing is as rare +as genius, but we usually fail to recognize its rarity. We misuse the +word, for we fail to draw the necessary distinctions. We fail to +recognize the plain and simple truth that many of us are not able to +love--just as there are many who are not able to play the piano or to +sing. We raise up our voices and make a sound, but it is not singing. We +marry and we give in marriage, but it is not loving. Love is like a +color--say, blue. There are a thousand shades of blue, and the outer +shades are at last not blue at all, but green or purple. So in love +there are a thousand shades, and very, very few of them are worthy of +the name. + +That which Paul Howard Alexis felt at this time for Etta was merely the +chivalrous instinct that teaches men their primary duty toward +women--namely, to protect and respect them. But out of this instinct +grows the better thing--Love. + +There are some women whose desire it is to be all things to all men +instead of every thing to one. This was the stumbling-block in the way +of Etta Bamborough. It was her instinct to please all at any price, and +her obedience to such instinct was often unconscious. She hardly knew +perhaps that she was trading upon a sense of chivalry rare in these +days, but had she known she could not have traded with a keener +comprehension of the commerce. + +"I should like to forget the past altogether," she said. "But it is hard +for women to get rid of the past. It is rather terrible to feel that one +will be associated all one's life with a person for whom no one had any +respect. He was not honorable or--" + +She paused; for the intuition of some women is marvellous. A slight +change of countenance had told her that charity, especially toward the +dead, is a commendable quality. + +"The world," she went on rather hurriedly, "never makes allowances--does +it? He was easily led, I suppose. And people said things of him that +were not true. Did you ever hear of him in Russia--of the things they +said of him?" + +She waited for the answer with suppressed eagerness--a good woman +defending the memory of her dead husband--a fair lioness protecting her +cub. + +"No; I never hear Russian gossip. I know no one in St. Petersburg, and +few in Moscow." + +She gave a little sigh of relief. + +"Then perhaps poor Sydney's delinquencies have been forgotten," she +said. "In six months every thing is forgotten now. He has only been dead +six months, you know. He died in Russia." + +All the while she was watching his face. She had moved in a circle where +everything is known--where men have faces of iron and nerves of steel to +conceal what they know. She could hardly believe that Paul Alexis knew +so little as he pretended. + +"So I heard a month ago," he said. + +In a flash of thought Etta remembered that it was only within the last +four weeks that this admirer had betrayed his admiration. Could this be +that phenomenon of the three-volume novel, an honorable man? She looked +at him with curiosity--without, it is to be feared, much respect. + +"And now," she said cheerfully, "let us change the subject. I have +inflicted enough of myself and my affairs upon you for one day. Tell me +about yourself. Why were you in Russia last summer?" + +"I am half a Russian," he answered. "My mother was Russian, and I have +estates there." + +Her surprise was a triumph of art. + +"Oh! You are not Prince Pavlo Alexis?" she exclaimed. + +"Yes, I am." + +She rose and swept him a deep courtesy, to the full advantage of her +beautiful figure. + +"My respects--mon prince," she said; and then, quick as lightning, for +she had seen displeasure on his face, she broke into a merry laugh. + +"No, I won't call you that; for I know you hate it. I have heard of your +prejudices, and if it is of the slightest interest to you, I think I +rather admire them." + +It is to be presumed that Mrs. Sydney Bamborough's memory was short. For +it was a matter of common knowledge in the diplomatic circles in which +she moved that Mr. Paul Howard Alexis of Piccadilly House, London, and +Prince Pavlo Alexis of the province of Tver, were one and the same man. + +Having, however, fully established this fact, from the evidence of her +own ears, she conversed very pleasantly and innocently upon matters, +Russian and English, until other visitors arrived and Paul withdrew. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +THE BARON + +Among the visitors whom Paul left behind him in the little drawing-room +in Brook Street was the Baron Claude de Chauxville, Baron of Chauxville +and Chauxville le Duc, in the Province of Seine-et-Marne, France, +attaché to the French Embassy to the Court of St. James; before men a +rising diplomatist, before God a scoundrel. This gentleman remained when +the other visitors had left, and Miss Maggie Delafield, seeing his +intention of prolonging a visit of which she had already had sufficient, +made an inadequate excuse and left the room. + +Miss Delafield, being a healthy-minded young English person of that +simplicity which is no simplicity at all, but merely simple-heartedness, +had her own ideas of what a man should be, and M. de Chauxville had the +misfortune to fall short of those ideas. He was too epigrammatic for +her, and beneath the brilliancy of his epigram she felt at times the +presence of something dark and nauseous. Her mental attitude toward him +was contemptuous and perfectly polite. With the reputation of possessing +a dangerous fascination--one of those reputations which can only emanate +from the man himself--M. de Chauxville neither fascinated nor +intimidated Miss Delafield. He therefore disliked her intensely. His +vanity was colossal, and when a Frenchman is vain he is childishly so. + +M. de Chauxville watched the door close behind Miss Delafield with a +queer smile. Then he turned suddenly on his heels and faced Mrs. Sydney +Bamborough. + +"Your cousin," he said, "is a typical Englishwoman--she only conceals +her love." + +"For you?" enquired Mrs. Sydney Bamborough. + +The baron shrugged his shoulders. + +"Possibly. One can never tell. She conceals it very well if it exists. +However, I am indifferent. The virtue of the violet is its own reward, +perhaps, for the rose always wins." + +He crossed the room toward Mrs. Sydney Bamborough, who was standing near +the mantelpiece. Her left hand was hanging idly by her side. He took the +white fingers and gallantly raised them to his lips, but before they had +reached that fount of truth and wisdom she jerked her hand away. + +M. de Chauxville laughed--the quiet, assured laugh of a man who has read +in books that he who is bold enough can win any woman, and believes it. +He was of those men who treat and speak of women as a class--creatures +to be dealt with successfully according to generality and maxim. It is a +singular thing, by the way, that men as a whole continue to disbelieve +in a woman's negative--singular, that is, when one reflects that the +majority of men have had at least one negative which has remained a +negative, so far as they were concerned, all the woman's life. + +"I am aware," said M. de Chauxville, "that the rose has thorns. One +reason why the violet is hors de concours." + +Etta smiled--almost relenting. She was never quite safe against her own +vanity. Happy the woman who is, and rare. + +"I suspect that the violet is innocent of any desire to enter into +competition," said Etta. + +"Knowing," suggested De Chauxville, "that although the race is not +always to the swift, it is usually so. Please do not stand. It suggests +that you are waiting for me to go or for some one else to come." + +"Neither." + +"Then prove it by taking this chair. Thus. Near the fire, for it is +quite an English spring. A footstool. Is it permitted to admire your +slippers--what there is of them? Now you look comfortable." + +He attended to her wants, divined them, and perhaps created them with a +perfect grace and much too intimate a knowledge. As a carpet knight he +was faultless. And Etta thought of Paul, who could do none of these +things--or would do none of them--Paul, who never made her feel like a +doll. + +"Will you not sit down?" she said, indicating a chair, which he did not +take. He selected one nearer to her. + +"I can think of nothing more desirable." + +"Than what?" she asked. Her vanity was like a hungry fish. It rose to +everything. + +"A chair in this room." + +"A modest desire," she said. "Is that really all you want in this +world?" + +"No," he answered, looking at her. + +She gave a little laugh and moved rather hurriedly. + +"I was going to suggest that you could have both at certain fixed +periods--whenever--I am out." + +"I am glad you did not suggest it." + +"Why?" she asked sharply. + +"Because I should have had to go into explanations. I did not say all." + +Mrs. Bamborough was looking into the fire, only half listening to him. +There was something in the nature of a duel between these two. Each +thought more of the next stroke than of the present party. + +"Do you ever say all, M. de Chauxville?" she asked. + +The baron laughed. Perhaps he was vain of the reputation that was his, +for this man was held to be a finished diplomatist. A finished +diplomatist, be it known, is one who is a dangerous foe and an +unreliable friend. + +"Perhaps--now that I reflect upon it," continued the clever woman, +disliking the clever man's silence, "the person who said all would be +intolerable." + +"There are some things which go without it," said De Chauxville. + +"Ah?" looking lazily back at him over her shoulder. + +"Yes." + +He was cautious, for he was fighting on a field which women may rightly +claim for their own. He really loved Etta. He was trying to gauge the +meaning of a little change in her tone toward him--a change so subtle +that few men could have detected it. But Claude de Chauxville +--accomplished steersman through the shoals of human nature, +especially through those very pronounced shoals who call themselves +women of the world--Claude de Chauxville knew the value of the slightest +change of manner, should that change manifest itself more than once. + +The ring of indifference, or something dangerously near it, in Etta's +voice had first been noticeable the previous evening, and the attaché +knew it. It had been in her voice whenever she spoke to him then. It was +there now. + +"Some things," he continued, in a voice she had never heard before, for +this man was innately artificial, "which a woman usually knows before +they are told to her." + +"What sort of things, M. le Baron?" + +He gave a little laugh. It was so strange a thing to him to be sincere +that he felt awkward and abashed. He was surprised at his own sincerity. + +"That I love you--hum. You have known it long?" + +The face which he could not see was not quite the face of a good woman. +Etta was smiling. + +"No--o," she almost whispered. + +"I think you must have known it," he corrected suavely. "Will you do me +the honor of becoming my wife?" + +It was very correctly done, Claude de Chauxville had regained control +over himself. He was able to think about the riches which were evidently +hers. But through the thought he loved the woman. + +The lady lowered the feather screen which she was holding between her +face and the fire. Regardless of the imminent danger in which she was +placing her complexion, she studied the glowing cinders for some +moments, weighing something or some persons in her mind. + +"No, my friend," she answered in French, at length. + +The baron's face was drawn and white. Beneath his trim black mustache +there was a momentary gleam of sharp white teeth as he bit his lip. + +He came nearer to her, leaning one hand on the back of her chair, +looking down. He could only see the beautifully dressed hair, the +clean-cut profile. She continued to look into the fire, conscious of the +hand close to her shoulder. + +"No, my friend," she repeated. "We know each other too well for that. It +would never do." + +"But when I tell you that I love you," he said quietly, with his voice +well in control. + +"I did not know that the word was in your vocabulary--you, a diplomat." + +"And a man--you put the word there--Etta." + +The hand-screen was raised for a moment in objection--presumably to the +Christian name of which he had made use. + +He waited; passivity was one of his strong points. It had frightened men +before this. + +Then, with a graceful movement, she swung suddenly round in her chair, +looking up at him. She broke into a merry laugh. + +"I believe you are actually in earnest!" she cried. + +He looked quietly down into her face without moving a muscle in response +to her change of humor. + +"Very clever," he said. + +"What?" she asked, still smiling. + +"The attitude, the voice, every thing. You have known all along that I +am in earnest, you have known it for the last six months. You have seen +me often enough when I was--well, not in earnest, to know the +difference." + +Etta rose quickly. It was some lightning-like woman's instinct that made +her do so. Standing, she was taller than M. de Chauxville. + +"Do not let us be tragic," she said coldly. "You have asked me to marry +you; why, I don't know. The reason will probably transpire later. I +appreciate the honor, but I beg to decline it. Et voilà tout. All is +said." + +He spread out apologetic hands. + +"All is not said," he corrected, with a dangerous suavity. "I +acknowledge the claim enjoyed by your sex to the last word. In this +matter, however, I am inclined to deny it to the individual." + +Etta Sydney Bamborough smiled. She leaned against the mantelpiece, with +her chin resting on her curved fingers. The attitude was eminently +calculated to show to full advantage a faultless figure. She evidently +had no desire to cheapen that which she would deny. She shrugged her +shoulders and waited. + +De Chauxville was vain, but he was clever enough to conceal his vanity. +He was hurt, but he was man enough to hide it. Under the passivity which +was his by nature and practice, he had learned to think very quickly. +But now he was at a disadvantage. He was unnerved by his love for +Etta--by the sight of Etta before him daringly, audaciously +beautiful--by the thought that she might never be his. + +"It is not only that I love you," he said, "that I have a certain +position to offer you. These I beg you to take at their poor value. But +there are other circumstances known to both of us which are more worthy +of your attention--circumstances which may dispose you to reconsider +your determination." + +"Nothing will do that," she replied; "not any circumstance." + +Etta was speaking to De Chauxville and thinking of Paul Alexis. + +"I should like to know since when you have discovered that you never +could under any circumstances marry me," pursued M. de Chauxville. "Not +that it matters, since it is too late. I am not going to allow you to +draw back now. You have gone too far. All this winter you have allowed +me to pay you conspicuous and marked attentions. You have conveyed to me +and to the world at large the impression that I had merely to speak in +order to obtain your hand." + +"I doubt," said Etta, "whether the world at large is so deeply +interested in the matter as you appear to imagine. I am sorry that I +have gone too far, but I reserve to myself the right of retracing my +footsteps wherever and whenever I please. I am sorry I conveyed to you +or to any one else the impression that you had only to speak in order to +obtain my hand, and I can only conclude that your overweening vanity has +led you into a mistake which I will be generous enough to hold my tongue +about." + +The diplomatist was for a moment taken aback. + +"Mais--" he exclaimed, with indignant arms outspread; and even in his +own language he could find nothing to add to the expressive +monosyllable. + +"I think you had better go," said Etta quietly. She went toward the +fire-place and rang the bell. + +M. de Chauxville took up his hat and gloves. + +"Of course," he said coldly, his voice shaking with suppressed rage, +"there is some reason for this. There is, I presume, some one else--some +one has been interfering. No one interferes with me with impunity. I +shall make it my business to find out who is this--" + +He did not finish: for the door was thrown open by the butler, who +announced: + +"Mr. Alexis." + +Paul came into the room with a bow toward De Chauxville, who was going +out, and whom he knew slightly. + +"I came back," he said, "to ask what evening next week you are free. I +have a box for the 'Huguenots.'" + +Paul did not stay. The thing was arranged in a few moments, and as he +left the drawing-room he heard the wheels of De Chauxville's carriage. + +Etta stood for a moment when the door had closed behind the two men, +looking at the portière which had hidden them from sight, as if +following them in thought. Then she gave a little laugh--a queer laugh +that might have had no heart in it, or too much for the ordinary +purposes of life. She shrugged her shoulders and took up a magazine, +with which she returned to the chair placed for her before the fire by +Claude de Chauxville. + +In a few minutes Maggie came into the room. She was carrying a bundle of +flannel. + +"The weakest thing I ever did," she said cheerfully, "was to join Lady +Crewel's working guild. Two flannel petticoats for the young by Thursday +morning. I chose the young because the petticoats are so ludicrously +small." + +"If you never do anything weaker than that," said Etta, looking into the +fire, "you will not come to much harm." + +"Perhaps not; what have you been doing--something weaker?" + +"Yes. I have been quarrelling with M. de Chauxville." + +Maggie held up a petticoat by the selvage (which a male writer takes to +be the lower hem), and looked at her cousin through the orifice intended +for the waist of the young. + +"If one could manage it without lowering one's dignity," she said, "I +think that that is the best thing one could possibly do with M. de +Chauxville." + +Etta had taken up the magazine again. She was pretending to read it. + +"Yes; but he knows too much--about every-body," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +THE TALLEYRAND CLUB + +It has been said of the Talleyrand Club that the only qualifications +required for admittance to its membership are a frock-coat and a glib +tongue. To explain the whereabouts of the Talleyrand Club were only a +work of supererogation. Many hansom cabmen know it. Hansom cabmen know +more than they are credited with. + +The Talleyrand, as its name implies, is a diplomatic club, but +ambassadors and ministers enter not its portals. They send their +juniors. Some of these latter are in the habit of stating that London is +the hub of Europe and the Talleyrand smoking-room its grease-box. +Certain is it that such men as Claude de Chauxville, as Karl Steinmetz, +and a hundred others who are or have been political scene-shifters, are +to be found in the Talleyrand rooms. + +It is a quiet club, with many members and sparse accommodation. Its +rooms are never crowded, because half of its members are afraid of +meeting the other half. It has swinging glass doors to its every +apartment, the lower portion of the glass being opaque, while the upper +moiety affords a peep-hole. Thus, if you are sitting in one of the deep, +comfortable chairs to be found in all these small rooms, you will be +aware from time to time of eyes and a bald head above the ground glass. +If you are nobody, eyes and bald head will prove to be the property of a +gentleman who does not know you, or knows you and pretends that he does +not. If you are somebody, your solitude will depend upon your +reputation. + +There are quite a number of bald heads in the Talleyrand Club--bald +heads surmounting youthful, innocent faces. The innocence of these +gentlemen is quite remarkable. Like a certain celestial, they are +"childlike and bland"; they ask guileless questions; they make blameless +mistakes in respect to facts, and require correction, which they receive +meekly. They know absolutely nothing, and their thirst for information +is as insatiable as it is unobtrusive. + +The atmosphere is vivacious with the light sound of many foreign +tongues; it bristles with the ephemeral importance of cheap titles. One +never knows whether one's neighbor is an ornament to the Almanac de +Gotha, or a disgrace to a degenerate colony of refugees. + +Some are plain Messieurs, Señores, or Herren. Bluff foreigners with +upright hair and melancholy eyes, who put up philosophically with a +cheaper brand of cigar than their souls love. Among the latter may be +classed Karl Steinmetz--the bluffest of the bluff--innocent even of his +own innocence. + +Karl Steinmetz in due course reached England, and in natural sequence +the smoking-room--room B on the left as you go in--of the Talleyrand. + +He was there one evening after an excellent dinner taken with humorous +resignation, smoking the largest cigar the waiter could supply, when +Claude de Chauxville happened to have nothing better or nothing worse to +do. + +De Chauxville looked through the glass door for some seconds. Then he +twisted his waxed mustache and lounged in. Steinmetz was alone in the +room, and De Chauxville was evidently--almost obviously--unaware of his +presence. He went to the table and proceeded to search in vain for a +newspaper that interested him. He raised his eyes casually and met the +quiet gaze of Karl Steinmetz. + +"Ah!" he exclaimed. + +"Yes," said Steinmetz. + +"You--in London?" + +Steinmetz nodded gravely. + +"Yes," he repeated. + +"One never knows where one has you," Claude de Chauxville went on, +seating himself in a deep arm-chair, newspaper in hand. "You are a bird +of passage." + +"A little heavy on the wing--now," said Steinmetz. + +He laid his newspaper down on his stout knees and looked at De +Chauxville over his gold eye-glasses. He did not attempt to conceal the +fact that he was wondering what this man wanted with him. The baron +seemed to be wondering what object Steinmetz had in view in getting +stout. He suspected some motive in the obesity. + +"Ah!" he said deprecatingly. "That is nothing. Time leaves its mark upon +all of us. It was not yesterday that we were in Petersburg together." + +"No," answered Steinmetz. "It was before the German Empire--many years +ago." + +De Chauxville counted back with his slim fingers on the +table--delightfully innocent. + +"Yes," he said, "the years seem to fly in coveys. Do you ever see any of +our friends of that time--you who are in Russia?" + +"Who were our friends of that time?" parried Steinmetz, polishing his +glasses with a silk handkerchief. "My memory is a broken reed--you +remember?" + +For a moment Claude de Chauxville met the full, quiet, gray eyes. + +"Yes," he said significantly, "I remember. Well--for instance, Prince +Dawoff?" + +"Dead. I never see him--thank Heaven!" + +"The princess?" + +"I never see; she keeps a gambling house in Paris." + +"And little Andrea?" + +"Never sees me. Married to a wholesale undertaker, who has buried her +past." + +"En gros?" + +"Et en détail." + +"The Count Lanovitch," pursued De Chauxville, "where is he?" + +"Banished for his connection with the Charity League." + +"Catrina?" + +"Catrina is living in the province of Tver--we are neighbors--she and +her mother, the countess." + +De Chauxville nodded. None of the details really interested him. His +indifference was obvious. + +"Ah! the Countess Lanovitch," he said reflectively, "she was a foolish +woman." + +"And is." + +M. de Chauxville laughed. This clumsy German ex-diplomat amused him +immensely. Many people amuse us who are themselves amused in their +sleeve. + +"And--er--the Sydney Bamboroughs," said the Frenchman, as if the name +had almost left his memory. + +Karl Steinmetz lazily stretched out his arm and took up the _Morning +Post_. He unfolded the sheet slowly, and having found what he sought, he +read aloud: + +"'His Excellency the Roumanian Ambassador gave a select dinner-party at +4 Craven Gardens, yesterday. Among the guests were the Baron de +Chauxville, Feneer Pasha, Lord and Lady Standover, Mrs. Sydney +Bamborough, and others.'" + +Steinmetz threw the paper down and leant back in his chair. + +"So, my dear friend," he said, "it is probable that you know more about +the Sydney Bamboroughs than I do." + +If Claude de Chauxville was disconcerted he certainly did not show it. +His was a face eminently calculated to conceal whatever thought or +feeling might be passing through his mind. Of an even white +complexion--verging on pastiness--he was handsome in a certain +statuesque way. His features were always composed and dignified; his +hair, thin and straight, was never out of order, but ever smooth and +sleek upon his high, narrow brow. His eyes had that dulness which is +characteristic of many Frenchmen, and may perhaps be attributed to the +habitual enjoyment of too rich a cuisine and too many cigarettes. + +De Chauxville waved aside the small contretemps with easy nonchalance. + +"Not necessarily," he said, in cold, even tones. "Mrs. Sydney Bamborough +does not habitually take into her confidence all who happen to dine at +the same table as herself. Your confidential woman is usually a liar." + +Steinmetz was filling his pipe; this man had the evil habit of smoking a +wooden pipe after a cigar. + +"My very dear De Chauxville," he said, without lookup, "your epigrams +are lost on me. I know most of them. I have heard them before. If you +have anything to tell me about Mrs. Sydney Bamborough, for Heaven's sake +tell it to me quite plainly. I like plain dishes and unvarnished +stories. I am a German, you know; that is to say, a person with a dull +palate and a thick head." + +De Chauxville laughed again in an unemotional way. + +"You alter little," he said. "Your plainness of speech takes me back to +Petersburg. Yes, I admit that Mrs. Sydney Bamborough rather interested +me. But I assume too much; that is no reason why she should interest +you." + +"She does not, my good friend, but you do. I am all attention." + +"Do you know anything of her?" asked De Chauxville perfunctorily, not as +a man who expects an answer or intends to believe that which he may be +about to hear. + +"Nothing." + +"You are likely to know more?" + +Karl Steinmetz shrugged his heavy shoulders, and shook his head +doubtfully. + +"I am not a lady's man," he added gruffly; "the good God has not shaped +me that way. I am too d--d fat. Has Mrs. Sydney Bamborough fallen in +love with me? Has some imprudent person shown her my photograph? I hope +not. Heaven forbid!" + +He puffed steadily at his pipe, and glanced quickly at De Chauxville +through the smoke. + +"No," answered the Frenchman quite gravely. Frenchmen, by the way, do +not admit that one may be too middle-aged, or too stout, for love. "But +she is au mieux with the prince." + +"Which prince?" + +"Pavlo." + +The Frenchman snapped out the word, watching the other's benevolent +countenance. Steinmetz continued to smoke placidly and contentedly. + +"My master," he said at length. "I suppose that some day he will marry." + +De Chauxville shrugged his shoulders. He touched the button of the +electric bell, and when the servant appeared, ordered coffee. He +selected a cigarette from a silver case with considerable care, and +having lighted it smoked for some moments in silence. The servant +brought the coffee, which he drank thoughtfully. Steinmetz was leaning +back in his deep chair, with his legs crossed. He was gazing into the +fire, which burnt brightly, although it was nearly May. The habits of +the Talleyrand Club are almost continental. The rooms are always too +warm. The silence was that of two men knowing each other well. + +"And why not Mrs. Sydney Bamborough?" asked Steinmetz suddenly. + +"Why not, indeed?" replied De Chauxville. "It is no affair of mine. A +wise man reduces his affairs to a minimum, and his interest in the +affairs of his neighbor to less. But I thought it would interest you." + +"Thanks." + +The tone of the big man in the arm-chair was not dry. Karl Steinmetz +knew better than to indulge in that pastime. Dryness is apt to parch the +fount of expansiveness. + +De Chauxville's attention was apparently caught by an illustration in a +weekly paper lying open on the table near to him. Your shifty man likes +something to look at. He did not speak for some moments. Then he threw +the paper aside. + +"Who was Sydney Bamborough, at any rate?" he asked, with a careless +assumption of a slanginess which is affected by society in its decadent +periods. + +"So far as I remember," answered Steinmetz, "he was something in the +Diplomatic Service." + +"Yes, but what?" + +"My dear friend, you had better ask his widow when next you sit beside +her at dinner." + +"How do you know that I sat beside her at dinner?" + +"I did not know it," replied Steinmetz, with a quiet smile which left De +Chauxville in doubt as to whether he was very stupid or exceedingly +clever. + +"She seems to be very well off," said the Frenchman. + +"I am glad, as she is going to marry my master." + +De Chauxville laughed almost awkwardly, and for a fraction of a second +he changed countenance under Steinmetz's quiet eyes. + +"One can never know whom a woman intends to marry," said he carelessly, +"even if they can themselves, which I doubt. But I do not understand how +it is that she is so much better off, or appears to be, since the death +of her husband." + +"Ah, she is much better off, or appears to be, since the death of her +husband," said the stout man, in his slow Germanic way. + +"Yes." + +De Chauxville rose, stretched himself and yawned. Men are not always, be +it understood, on their best behavior at their club. + +"Good-night," he said shortly. + +"Good-night, my very dear friend." + +After the Frenchman had left, Karl Steinmetz remained quite motionless +and expressionless in his chair, until such time as he concluded that De +Chauxville was tired of watching him through the glass door. Then he +slowly sat forward in his chair and looked back over his shoulder. + +"Our friend," he muttered, "is afraid that Paul is going to marry this +woman. Now, I wonder why?" + +These two had met before in a past which has little or nothing to do +with the present narrative. They had disliked each other with a +completeness partly bred of racial hatred, partly the outcome of diverse +interests. But of late years they had drifted apart. There was no reason +why the friendship, such as it was, should not have lapsed into a mere +bowing acquaintance. For these men were foreigners, understanding fully +the value of the bow as an interchange of masculine courtesy. Englishmen +bow badly. + +Steinmetz knew that the Frenchman had recognized him before entering the +room. It was to be presumed that he had deliberately chosen to cross the +threshold, knowing that a recognition was inevitable. Karl Steinmetz +went farther. He suspected that De Chauxville had come to the Talleyrand +Club, having heard that he was in England, with the purpose in view of +seeking him out and warning him against Mrs. Sydney Bamborough. + +"It would appear," murmured the stout philosopher, "that we are about to +work together for the first time. But if there is one thing that I +dislike more than the enmity of Claude de Chauxville it is his +friendship." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +OLD HANDS + +Karl Steinmetz lifted his pen from the paper before him and scratched +his forehead with his forefinger. + +"Now, I wonder," he said aloud, "how many bushels there are in a ton. +Ach! how am I to find out? These English weights and measures, this +English money, when there is a metrical system!" + +He sat and hardly looked up when the clock struck seven. It was a quiet +room this in which he sat, the library of Paul's London house. The noise +of Piccadilly reached his ears as a faint roar, not entirely unpleasant, +but sociable and full of life. Accustomed as he was to the great silence +of Russia, where sound seems lost in space, the hum of a crowded +humanity was a pleasant change to this philosopher, who loved his kind +while fully recognizing its little weaknesses. + +While he sat there still wondering how many bushels of seed made a ton, +Paul Alexis came into the room. The younger man was in evening dress. He +looked at the clock rather eagerly. + +"Will you dine here?" he asked, and Steinmetz wheeled around in his +chair. "I am going out to dinner," he explained further. + +"Ah!" said the elder man. + +"I am going to Mrs. Sydney Bamborough's." + +Steinmetz bowed his head gravely. He said nothing. He was not looking at +Paul, but at the pattern of the carpet. There was a short silence. Then +Paul said, with entire simplicity: + +"I shall probably ask her to marry me." + +"And she will probably say yes." + +"I am not so sure about that," said Paul, with a laugh. For this man was +without conceit. He had gradually been forced to admit that there are +among men persons whose natural inclination is toward evil, persons who +value not the truth, nor hold by honesty. But he was guileless enough to +believe that women are not so. He actually believed that women are +truthful and open and honorable. He believes it still, which is somewhat +startling. There are a few such dullards yet. "I do not see why she +should," he went on gravely. He was standing by the empty fire-place, a +manly, upright figure; one who was not very clever, not brilliant at +all, somewhat slow in his speech, but sure, deadly sure, in the honesty +of his purpose. + +Karl Steinmetz looked at him and smiled openly, with the quaint air of +resignation that was his. + +"You have never seen her, eh?" enquired Paul. + +Steinmetz paused, then he told a lie, a good one, well told, +deliberately. + +"No." + +"We are going to the opera, Box F2. If you come in I shall have pleasure +in introducing you. The sooner you know each other the better. I am sure +you will approve." + +"I think you ought to marry money." + +"Why?" + +Steinmetz laughed. + +"Oh," he answered, "because every-body does who can. There is Catrina +Lanovitch, an estate as big as yours, adjoining yours. A great Russian +family, a good girl who--is willing." + +Paul laughed, a good wholesome laugh. + +"You are inclined to exaggerate my manifold and obvious qualifications," +he said. "Catrina is a very nice girl, but I do not think she would +marry me even if I asked her." + +"Which you do not intend to do." + +"Certainly not." + +"Then you will make an enemy of her," said Steinmetz quietly. "It may be +inconvenient, but that cannot be helped. A woman scorned--you know. +Shakspere or the Bible, I always mix them up. No, Paul; Catrina +Lanovitch is a dangerous enemy. She has been making love to you these +last four years, and you would have seen it if you had not been a fool! +I am afraid, my good Paul, you are a fool, God bless you for it!" + +"I think you are wrong," said Paul rather curtly; "not about me being a +fool, but about Catrina Lanovitch. If you are right, however, it only +makes me dislike her instead of being perfectly indifferent to her." + +His honest face flushed up finely, and he turned away to look at the +clock again. + +"I hate your way of talking about women, Steinmetz," he said. "You're a +cynical old beast, you know." + +"Heaven forbid, my dear prince! I admire all women--they are so clever, +so innocent, so pure-minded. Do not your English novels prove it, your +English stage, your newspapers, so high-toned? Who supports the +novelist, the play-wright, the actor, who but your English ladies?" + +"Better than being cooks--like your German ladies," retorted Paul +stoutly. "If you _are_ German this evening. Better than being cooks." + +"I doubt it! I very much doubt it, my friend. At what time shall I +present myself at Box F2 this evening?" + +"About nine--as soon as you like." + +Paul looked at the clock. The pointers lagged horribly. He knew that the +carriage was certain to be at the door, waiting in the quiet street with +its great restless horses, its two perfectly trained men, its gleaming +lamps and shining harness. But he would not allow himself the luxury of +being the first arrival. Paul had himself well in hand. At last it was +time to go. + +"See you later," he said. + +"Thank you--yes," replied Steinmetz, without looking up. + +So Paul Howard Alexis sallied forth to seek the hand of the lady of his +choice, and as he left his own door that lady was receiving Claude de +Chauxville in her drawing-room. The two had not met for some weeks--not +indeed since Etta had told the Frenchman that she could not marry him. +Her invitation to dine, couched in the usual friendly words, had been +the first move in that game commonly called "bluff." Claude de +Chauxville's acceptance of the same had been the second move. And these +two persons, who were not afraid of each other, shook hands with a +pleasant smile of greeting, while Paul hurried toward them through the +busy streets. + +"Am I forgiven--that I am invited to dinner?" asked De Chauxville +imperturbably, when the servant had left them alone. + +Etta was one of those women who are conscious of their dress. Some may +protest that a lady moving in such circles would not be so. But in all +circles women are only women, and in every class of life we meet such as +Etta Bamborough. Women who, while they talk, glance down and rearrange a +flower or a piece of lace. It is a mere habit, seemingly small and +unimportant; but it marks the woman and sets her apart. + +Etta was standing on the hearthrug, beautifully dressed--too beautifully +dressed, it is possible, to sit down. Her maid had a moment earlier +confessed that she could do no more, and Etta had come down stairs a +vision of luxury, of womanly loveliness. Nevertheless, there appeared to +be something amiss. She was so occupied with a flower at her shoulder +that she did not answer at once. + +"Forgiven for what?" she asked at length, in that preoccupied tone of +voice which tells wise men that only questions of dress will be +considered. + +De Chauxville shrugged his shoulders in his graceful Gallic way. + +"Mon Dieu!" he exclaimed. "For a crime which requires no excuse, and no +explanation other than a mirror." + +She looked up at him innocently. + +"A mirror?" + +"Yours. Have you forgiven me for falling in love with you? It is, I am +told, a crime that women sometimes condone." + +"It was no crime," she said. She had heard the wheels of Paul's +carriage. "It was a misfortune. Please let us forget that it ever +happened." + +De Chauxville twirled his neat mustache, looking keenly at her the +while. + +"You forget," he said. "But I--will remember." + +She did not answer, but turned with a smile to greet Paul. + +"I think you know each other," she said gracefully when she had shaken +hands, and the two men bowed. They were foreigners, be it understood. +There were three languages in which they could understand each other +with equal ease. + +"Where _is_ Maggie?" exclaimed Mrs. Bamborough. "She is always late." + +"When I am here," reflected De Chauxville. But he did not say it. + +Miss Delafield kept them waiting a few minutes, and during that time +Etta Sydney Bamborough gave a very fine display of prowess with the +double-stringed bow. When a man attempts to handle this delicate weapon, +he usually makes, if one may put it thus crudely, an ass of himself. He +generally succeeds in snapping one and probably both of the strings, +injuring himself most certainly in the process. + +Not so, however, this clever lady. She had a smile and an epigram for +Claude de Chauxville, a grave air of sympathetic interest in more +serious affairs for Paul Alexis. She was bright and amusing, guileless +and very worldly wise in the same breath--simple for Paul and a match +for De Chauxville, within the space of three seconds. Withal she was a +beautiful woman beautifully dressed. A thousand times too wise to scorn +her womanhood, as learned fools are prone to do in print and on platform +in these wordy days, but wielding the strongest power on earth, to wit, +that same womanhood, with daring and with skill. A learned woman is not +of much account in the world. A clever woman moves as much of it as lies +in her neighborhood--that is to say, as much as she cares to rule. For +women love power, but they do not care to wield it at a distance. + +Paul was asked to take Mrs. Sydney Bamborough down to dinner by the lady +herself. + +"Mon ami," she said in a quiet aside to De Chauxville, before making her +request, "it is the first time the prince dines here." + +She spoke in French. Maggie and Paul were talking together at the other +end of the room. De Chauxville bowed in silence. + +At dinner the conversation was necessarily general, and, as such, is not +worth reporting. No general conversation, one finds, is of much value +when set down in black and white. It is not even grammatical nowadays. +To be more correct, let us note that the talk lay between Etta and M. de +Chauxville, who had a famous supply of epigrams and bright nothings +delivered in such a way that they really sounded like wisdom. Etta was +equal to him, sometimes capping his sharp wit, sometimes contenting +herself with silvery laughter. Maggie Delafield was rather distraite, as +De Chauxville noted. The girl's dislike for him was an iron that entered +the quick of his vanity anew every time he saw her. There was no +petulance in the aversion, such as he had perceived with other maidens +who were only resenting a passing negligence or seeking to pique his +curiosity. This was a steady and, if you will, unmaidenly aversion, +which Maggie conscientiously attempted to conceal. + +Paul, it is to be feared, was what hostesses call heavy in hand. He +laughed where he saw something to laugh at, but not elsewhere, which in +some circles is considered morose and in bad form. He joined readily +enough in the conversation, but originated nothing. Those topics which +occupied his mind did not present themselves as suitable to this +occasion. His devotion to Etta was quite obvious, and he was simple +enough not to care that it should be so. + +Maggie was by turns quite silent and very talkative. When Paul and Etta +were speaking together she never looked at them, but fixedly at her own +plate, at a decanter, or a salt-cellar. When she spoke she addressed her +remarks--valueless enough in themselves--exclusively to the man she +disliked, Claude de Chauxville. + +There was something amiss in the pretty little room. There were shadows +seated around that pretty little table à quatre, beside the guests in +their pretty dresses and their black coats; silent cold shadows, who ate +nothing, while they chilled the dainty food and took the sweetness from +the succulent dishes. These shadows had crept in unawares, a silent +partie carrée, to take their phantom places at the table, and only Etta +seemed able to jostle hers aside and talk it down. She took the whole +burden of the conversation upon her pretty shoulders, and bore it +through the little banquet with unerring skill and unflinching good +humor. In the midst of her merriest laughter, the clever gray eyes would +flit from one man's face to the other. Paul had been brought here to ask +her to marry him. Claude de Chauxville had been invited that he might be +tacitly presented to his successful rival. Maggie was there because she +was a woman and made the necessary fourth. Puppets all, and two of them +knew it. And some of us know it all our lives. We are living, moving +puppets. We let ourselves be dragged here and pushed there, the victim +of one who happens to have more energy of mind, a greater steadfastness +of purpose, a keener grasp of the situation called life. We smirk and +smile, and lose the game because we have begun by being anvils, and are +afraid of trying to be hammers. + +But Etta Sydney Bamborough had to deal with metal of a harder grain than +the majority of us. Claude de Chauxville was for the moment forced to +assume the humble rôle of anvil because he had no choice. Maggie +Delafield was passive for the time being, because that which would make +her active was no more than a tiny seedling in her heart. The girl bid +fair to be one of those women who develop late, who ripen slowly, like +the best fruit. + +During the drive to the opera house the two women in Etta's snug little +brougham were silent. Etta had her thoughts to occupy her. She was at +the crucial point of a difficult game. She could not afford to allow +even a friend to see so much as the corners of the cards she held. + +In the luxurious box it was easily enough arranged--Etta and Paul +together in front, De Chauxville and Maggie at the other corner of the +box. + +"I have asked my friend Karl Steinmetz to come in during the evening," +said Paul to Etta when they were seated. "He is anxious to make your +acquaintance. He is my--prime minister over in Russia." + +Etta smiled graciously. + +"It is kind of him," she answered, "to be anxious to make my +acquaintance." + +She was apparently listening to the music; in reality she was hurrying +back mentally over half a dozen years. She had never had much to do with +the stout German philosopher, but she knew enough of him to scorn the +faint hope that he might have forgotten her name and her individuality. +Etta Bamborough had never been disconcerted in her life yet; this +incident came very near to bringing about the catastrophe. + +"At what time," she asked, "is he coming in?" + +"About half-past nine." + +Etta had a watch on a bracelet on her arm. Such women always know the +time. + +It was a race, and Etta won it. She had only half an hour. De Chauxville +was there, and Maggie with her quiet, honest eyes. But the widow of +Sydney Bamborough made Paul ask her to be his wife, and she promised to +give him his answer later. She did it despite a thousand difficulties +and more than one danger--accomplished it with, as the sporting people +say, plenty to spare--before the door behind them was opened by the +attendant, and Karl Steinmetz, burly, humorously imperturbable and +impenetrable, stood smiling gravely on the situation. + +He saw Claude de Chauxville, and before the Frenchman had turned round +the expression on Steinmetz's large and placid countenance had changed +from the self-consciousness usually preceding an introduction to one of +a dim recognition. + +"I have had the pleasure of meeting madame somewhere before, I think. In +St. Petersburg, was it not?" + +Etta, composed and smiling, said that it was so, and introduced him to +Maggie. De Chauxville took the opportunity of leaving that young lady's +side, and placing himself near enough to Paul and Etta to completely +frustrate any further attempts at confidential conversation. + +For a moment Steinmetz and Paul were left standing together. + +"I have had a telegram," said Steinmetz in Russian. "We must go back to +Tver. There is cholera again. When can you come?" + +Beneath his heavy mustache Paul bit his lip. + +"In three days," he answered. + +"True? You will come with me?" enquired Steinmetz, under cover of the +clashing music. + +"Of course." + +Steinmetz looked at him curiously. He glanced toward Etta, but he said +nothing. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +SAFE! + +The season wore on to its perihelion--a period, the scientific books +advise us, of the highest clang and crash of speed and whirl, of the +greatest brilliancy and deepest glow of a planet's existence. The +business of life, the pursuit of pleasure, and the scientific demolition +of our common enemy, Time, received all the care which such matters +require. + +Débutantes bloomed and were duly culled by aged connoisseurs of such +wares, or by youthful aspirants with the means to pay the piper in the +form of a handsome settlement. The usual number of young persons of the +gentler sex entered the lists of life, with the mistaken notion that it +is love that makes the world go round, to ride away from the joust wiser +and sadder women. + +There was the same round of conventional pleasures which the reader and +his humble servant have mixed in deeply or dilettante, according to his +taste or capacity for such giddy work. There was withal the usual +heart-burning, heart-bartering, heart--anything you will but breaking. +For we have not breaking hearts among us to-day. Providence, it would +seem, has run short of the commodity, and deals out only a few among a +number of persons. + +Amid the whirl of rout, and ball, and picnic, race-meeting, polo-match, +and what-not, Paul Howard Alexis stalked misunderstood, distrusted; an +object of ridicule to some, of pity to others, of impatience to all. A +man, if it please you, with a purpose--a purpose at the latter end of +the nineteenth century, when most of us, having decided that there is no +future, take it upon ourselves to despise the present. + +Paul soon discovered that he was found out--at no time a pleasant +condition of things, except, indeed, when callers are about. That which +Eton and Cambridge had failed to lay their fingers upon, every +match-making mother had found out for herself in a week. That the +discovery had been carefully kept in each maternal breast, it is +needless to relate. Ces dames are not confidential upon such matters +between themselves. When they have scented their game they stalk him, +and if possible bag him in a feline solitude which has no fears for +stout, ambitious hearts. The fear is that some other prowling mother of +an eligible maiden may hit upon the same scent. + +Paul was invited to quiet dinners and a little music, to quiet dinners +without the music, to a very little music and no dinner whatever. The +number of ladies who had a seat in a box thrown upon their hands at the +last minute--a seat next to Angelina in her new pink, or Blanche in her +sweet poult de soie--the number of these ladies one can only say was +singular, because politeness forbids one to suggest that it was +suspicious. Soft cheeks became rosy at his approach--partly, perhaps, +because soft and dainty toes in satin slippers were trodden upon with +maternal emphasis at that moment. Soft eyes looked love into eyes that, +alas! only returned preoccupation. There was always room on an +engagement card for Paul's name. There was always space in the smallest +drawing-room for Paul's person, vast though the latter was. There +was--fond mothers conveyed it to him subtly after supper and +champagne--an aching void in more than one maiden heart which was his +exact fit. + +But Paul was at once too simple and too clever for matron and maid +alike. Too simple, because he failed to understand the inner meaning of +many pleasant things that the guileless fair one said to him. Too +clever, because he met the subtle matron with the only arm she feared, a +perfect honesty. And when at last he obtained his answer from the coy +and hesitating Etta, there was no gossip in London who could put forward +a just cause or impediment. + +Etta gave him the answer one evening at the house of a mutual friend, +where a multitude of guests had assembled ostensibly to hear certain +celebrated singers, apparently to whisper recriminations on their +entertainer's champagne. It was a dull business--except, indeed, for +Paul Howard Alexis. As for the lady--the only lady his honest, simple +world contained--who shall say? Inwardly she may have been in trembling, +coy alarm, in breathless, blushing hesitation. Outwardly she was, +however, exceedingly composed and self-possessed. She had been as +careful as ever of her toilet--as hard to please; as--dare we say +snappish with her maids? The beautiful hair had no one of its aureate +threads out of place. The pink of her shell-like cheek was steady, +unruffled, fair to behold. Her whole demeanor was admirable in its +well-bred repose. Did she love him? Was it in her power to love any man? +Not the humble chronicler--not any man, perhaps, and but few women--can +essay an answer. Suffice it that she accepted him. In exchange for the +title he could give her, the position he could assure to her, the wealth +he was ready to lavish upon her, and, lastly, let us mention, in the +effete, old-fashioned way, the love he bore her--in exchange for these +she gave him her hand. + +Thus Etta Sydney Bamborough was enabled to throw down her cards at last +and win the game she had played so skilfully. The widow of an obscure +little Foreign Office clerk, she might have been a baroness, but she put +the smaller honor aside and aspired to a prince. Behind the gay smile +there must have been a quick and resourceful brain, daring to scheme, +intrepid in execution. Within the fair breast there must have been a +heart resolute, indomitable, devoid of weak scruple. Mark the last. It +is the scruple that keeps the reader and his humble servant from being +greater men than they are. + +"Yes," says Etta, allowing Paul to take her perfectly gloved hand in his +great, steady grasp; "yes, I have my answer ready." + +They were alone in the plashy solitude of an inner conservatory, between +the songs of the great singers. She was half afraid of this strong man, +for he had strange ways with him--not uncouth, but unusual and somewhat +surprising in a finnicking, emotionless generation. + +"And what is it?" whispers Paul eagerly. Ah! what fools men are--what +fools they always will be! + +Etta gave a little nod, looking shamefacedly down at the pattern of her +lace fan. + +"Is that it?" he asked breathlessly. + +The nod was repeated, and Paul Howard Alexis was thereby made the +happiest man in England. She half expected him to take her in his arms, +despite the temporary nature of their solitude. Perhaps she half wished +it; for behind her business-like and exceedingly practical appreciation +of his wealth there lurked a very feminine curiosity and interest in his +feelings--a curiosity somewhat whetted by the manifold differences that +existed between him and the society lovers with whom she had hitherto +played the pretty game. + +But Paul contented himself with raising the gloved fingers to his lips, +restrained by a feeling of respect for her which she would not have +understood and probably did not merit. + +"But," she said with a sudden smile, "I take no responsibility. I am not +very sure that it will be a success. I can only try to make you +happy--goodness knows if I shall succeed!" + +"You have only to be yourself to do that," he answered, with lover-like +promptness and a blindness which is the special privilege of those happy +fools. + +She gave a strange little smile. + +"But how do I know that our lives will harmonize in the least? I know +nothing of your daily existence; where you live--where you want to +live." + +"I should like to live mostly in Russia," he answered honestly. + +Her expression did not change. It merely fixed itself as one sees the +face of a watching cat fix itself, when the longed for mouse shows a +whisker. + +"Ah!" she said lightly, confident in her own power; "that will arrange +itself later." + +"I am glad I am rich," said Paul simply, "because I shall be able to +give you all you want. There are many little things that add to a +woman's comfort; I shall find them out and see that you have them." + +"Are you so very rich, Paul?" she asked, with an innocent wonder. "But I +don't think it matters; do you? I do not think that riches have much to +do with happiness." + +"No," he answered. He was not a person with many theories upon life or +happiness or such matters--which, by the way, are in no way affected by +theories. By taking thought we cannot add a cubit to the height of our +happiness. We can only undermine its base by too searching an analysis +of that upon which it is built. + +So Paul replied "No," and took pleasure in looking at her, as any lover +must needs have done. + +"Except, of course," she said, "that one may do good with great riches." + +She gave a little sigh, as if deploring the misfortune that hitherto her +own small means had fallen short of the happy point at which one may +begin doing good. + +"Are you so very rich, Paul?" she repeated, as if she was rather afraid +of those riches and mistrusted them. + +"Oh, I suppose so. Horribly rich!" + +She had withdrawn her hand. She gave it to him again, with a pretty +movement usually understood to indicate bashfulness. + +"It can't be helped," she said. "We"--she dwelt upon the word ever so +slightly--"we can perhaps do a little good with it." + +Then suddenly he blurted out all his wishes on this point--his quixotic +aims, the foolish imaginings of a too chivalrous soul. She listened, +prettily eager, sweetly compassionate of the sorrows of the peasantry +whom he made the object of his simple pity. Her gray eyes contracted +with horror when he told her of the misery with which he was too +familiar. Her pretty lips quivered when he told her of little children +born only to starve because their mothers were starving. She laid her +gloved fingers gently on his when he recounted tales of strong men--good +fathers in their simple, barbarous way--who were well content that the +children should die rather than be saved to pass a miserable existence, +without joy, without hope. + +She lifted her eyes with admiration to his face when he told her what he +hoped to do, what he dreamed of accomplishing. She even made a few +eager, heartfelt suggestions, fitly coming from a woman--touched with a +woman's tenderness, lightened by a woman's sympathy and knowledge. + +It was in its way a tragedy, the picture we are called to look +upon--these newly made lovers, not talking of themselves, as is the +time-honored habit of such. Surrounded by every luxury, both high-born, +refined, and wealthy; both educated, both intelligent. He, +simple-minded, earnest, quite absorbed in his happiness, because that +happiness seemed to fall in so easily with the busier, and, as some +might say, the nobler side of his ambition. She, failing to understand +his aspirations, thinking only of his wealth. + +"But," she said at length, "shall you--we--be allowed to do all this? I +thought that such schemes were not encouraged in Russia. It is such a +pity to pauperize the people." + +"You cannot pauperize a man who has absolutely nothing," replied Paul. +"Of course, we shall have difficulties; but, together, I think we shall +be able to overcome them." + +Etta smiled sympathetically, and the smile finished up, as it were, with +a gleam very like amusement. She had been vouchsafed for a moment a +vision of herself in some squalid Russian village, in a hideous +Russian-made tweed dress, dispensing the necessaries of life to a people +only little raised above the beasts of the field. The vision made her +smile, as well it might. In Petersburg life might be tolerable for a +little in the height of the season--for a few weeks of the brilliant +Northern winter--but in no other part of Russia could she dream of +dwelling. + +They sat and talked of their future as lovers will, knowing as little of +it as any of us, building up castles in the air, such edifices as we +have all constructed, destined, no doubt, to the same rapid collapse as +some of us have quailed under. Paul, with lamentable honesty, talked +almost as much of his stupid peasants as of his beautiful companion, +which pleased her not too well. Etta, with a strange persistence, +brought the conversation ever back and back to the house in London, the +house in Petersburg, the great grim castle in the Government of Tver, +and the princely rent-roll. And once on the subject of Tver, Paul could +scarce be brought to leave it. + +"I am going back there," he said at length. + +"When?" she asked, with a composure which did infinite credit to her +modest reserve. Her love was jealously guarded. It lay too deep to be +disturbed by the thought that her lover would leave her soon. + +"To-morrow," was his answer. + +She did not speak at once. Should she try the extent of her power over +him? Never was lover so chivalrous, so respectful, so sincere. Should +she gauge the height of her supremacy? If it proved less powerful than +she suspected, she would at all events be credited with a very natural +aversion to parting from him. + +"Paul," she said, "you cannot do that. Not so soon. I cannot let you +go." + +He flushed up to the eyes suddenly, like a girl. There was a little +pause, and the color slowly left his face. Somehow that pause frightened +Etta. + +"I am afraid I must go," he said gravely at length. + +"Must--a prince?" + +"It is on that account," he replied. + +"Then I am to conclude that you are more devoted to your peasants than +to--me?" + +He assured her to the contrary. She tried once again, but nothing could +move him from his decision. Etta was perhaps a small-minded person, and +as such failed to attach due importance to this proof that her power +over him was limited. It ceased, in fact, to exist as soon as it touched +that strong sense of duty which is to be found in many men and in +remarkably few women. + +It almost seemed as if the abrupt departure of her lover was in some +sense a relief to Etta Sydney Bamborough. For, while he, lover-like, was +grave and earnest during the small remainder of the evening, she +continued to be sprightly and gay. The last he saw of her was her +smiling face at the window as her carriage drove away. + +Arrived at the little house in Upper Brook Street, Maggie and Etta went +into the drawing-room, where biscuits and wine were set out. Their maids +came and took their cloaks away, leaving them alone. + +"Paul and I are engaged," said Etta suddenly. She was picking the +withered flowers from her dress and throwing them carelessly on the +table. + +Maggie was standing with her back to her, with her two hands on the +mantel-piece. She was about to turn round when she caught sight of her +own face in the mirror, and that which she saw there made her change her +intention. + +"I am not surprised," she said, in an even voice, standing like a +statue. "I congratulate you. I think he is--nice." + +"You also think he is too good for me," said Etta, with a little laugh. +There was something in that laugh--a ring of wounded vanity, the wounded +vanity of a bad woman who is in the presence of her superior. + +"No!" answered Maggie slowly, tracing the veins of the marble across the +mantel-piece. "No--o, not that." + +Etta looked up at her. It was rather singular that she did not ask what +Maggie did think. Perhaps she was afraid of a certain British honesty +which characterized the girl's thought and speech. Instead she rose and +indulged in a yawn which may have been counterfeit, but it was a good +counterfeit. + +"Will you have a biscuit?" she said. + +"No, thanks." + +"Then shall we go to bed?" + +"Yes." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +THE PRINCE + +The village of Osterno, lying, or rather scrambling, along the banks of +the river Oster, is at no time an exhilarating spot. It is a large +village, numbering over nine hundred souls, as the board affixed to its +first house testifieth in incomprehensible Russian figures. + +A "soul," be it known, is a different object in the land of the Czars to +that vague protoplasm about which our young persons think such mighty +thoughts, our old men write such famous big books. A soul is namely a +man--in Russia the women have not yet begun to seek their rights and +lose their privileges. A man is therefore a "soul" in Russia, and as +such enjoys the doubtful privilege of contributing to the land-tax and +to every other tax. In compensation for the first-named impost he is +apportioned his share of the common land of the village, and by the +cultivation of this ekes out an existence which would be valueless if he +were a teetotaller. It is melancholy to have to record this fact in the +pages of a respectable volume like the present; but facts--as the orator +who deals in fiction is ever ready to announce--facts cannot be ignored. +And any man who has lived in Russia, has dabbled in Russian humanity, +and noted the singular unattractiveness of Russian life--any such man +can scarcely deny the fact that if one deprives the moujik of his +privilege of getting gloriously and frequently intoxicated, one takes +away from that same moujik the one happiness of his existence. + +That the Russian peasant is by nature one of the cheeriest, the +noisiest, and lightest-hearted of men is only another proof of the +Creator's power; for this dimly lighted "soul" has nothing to cheer him +on his forlorn way but the memory of the last indulgence in strong drink +and the hope of more to come. He is harassed by a ruthless +tax-collector; he is shut off from the world by enormous distances over +impracticable roads. When the famine comes, and come it assuredly will, +the moujik has no alternative but to stay where he is and starve. Since +Alexander II. of philanthropic memory made the Russian serf a free man, +the blessings of freedom have been found to resolve themselves chiefly +into a perfect liberty to die of starvation, of cold, or of dire +disease. When he was a serf this man was of some small value to some +one; now he is of no consequence to any one whatsoever except himself, +and, with considerable intelligence, he sets but small store upon his +own existence. Freedom, in fact, came to him before he was ready for it; +and, hampered as he has been by petty departmental tyranny, governmental +neglect, and a natural stupidity, he has made very small progress toward +a mental independence. All that he has learnt to do is to hate his +tyrants. When famine urges him, he goes blindly, helplessly, dumbly, and +tries to take by force that which is denied by force. + +With us in England the poor man raises up his voice and cries aloud when +he wants something. He always wants something--never work, by the +way--and therefore his voice pervades the atmosphere. He has his evening +newspaper, which is dear at the moderate sum of a halfpenny. He has his +professional organizers, and his Trafalgar Square. He even has his +members of Parliament. He does no work, and he does not starve. In his +generation the poor man thinks himself wise. In Russia, however, things +are managed differently. The poor man is under the heel of the rich. +Some day there will be in Russia a Terror, but not yet. Some day the +moujik will erect unto himself a rough sort of a guillotine, but not in +our day. Perhaps some of us who are young men now may dimly read in our +dotage of a great upheaval beside which the Terror of France will be +tame and uneventful. Who can tell? When a country begins to grow, its +mental development is often startlingly rapid. + +But we have to do with Russia of to-day, and the village of Osterno in +the Government of Tver. Not a "famine" Government, mind you! For these +are the Volga Provinces--Samara, Pensa, Voronish, Vintka, and a dozen +others. No! Tver the civilized, the prosperous, the manufacturing +centre. + +Osterno is built of wood. Should it once fairly catch alight in a high +wind, all that will be left of this town will be a few charred timbers +and some dazed human beings. The inhabitants know their own danger, and +endeavor to meet it in their fatalistic manner. Each village has its +fire organization. Each "soul" has his appointed place, his appointed +duty, and his special contribution--be it bucket or rope or ladder--to +bring to the conflagration. But no one ever dreams of being sober and +vigilant at the right time, so the organization, like many larger such, +is a broken reed. + +The street, bounded on either side by low wooden houses, is, singularly +enough, well paved. This, the traveller is told, by the tyrant Prince +Pavlo, who made the road because he did not like driving over ruts and +through puddles--the usual Russian rural thoroughfare. Not because +Prince Pavlo wanted to give the peasants work, not because he wanted to +save them from starvation--not at all, although, in the gratification of +his own whim, he happened to render those trifling services; but merely +because he was a great "bárin"--a prince who could have any thing he +desired. Had not the other bárin--Steinmetz by name--superintended the +work? Steinmetz the hated, the loathed, the tool of the tyrant whom they +never see. Ask the "starost"--the mayor of the village. He knows the +bárins, and hates them. + +Michael Roon, the starosta or elder of Osterno, president of the Mir, or +village council, principal shopkeeper, mayor and only intelligent soul +of the nine hundred, probably had Tartar blood in his veins. To this +strain may be attributed the narrow Tartar face, the keen black eyes, +the short, spare figure which many remember to this day, although +Michael Roon has been dead these many years. + +Removed far above the majority of his fellow-villagers in intelligence +and energy, this man administered the law of his own will to his +colleagues on the village council. + +It was late in the autumn, one evening remembered by many for its +death-roll, that the starosta was standing at the door of his small +shop. He was apparently idle. He never sold vodka, and the majority of +the villagers were in one of the three thriving "kabaks" which drove a +famous trade in strong drink and weak tea. It was a very hot evening. +The sun had set in a pink haze which was now turning to an unhealthy +gray, and spreading over the face of the western sky like the shadow of +death across the human countenance. + +The starosta shook his head forebodingly. It was cholera weather. +Cholera had come to Osterno. Had come, the starosta thought, to stay. It +had settled down in Osterno, and nothing but the winter frosts would +kill it, when hunger-typhus would undoubtedly succeed it. + +Therefore the starosta shook his head at the sunset, and forgot to +regret the badness of the times from a commercial point of view. He had +done all he could. He had notified to the Zemstvo the condition of his +village. He had made the usual appeal for help, which had been forwarded +in the usual way to Tver, where it had apparently been received with the +usual philosophic silence. + +But Michael Roon had also telegraphed to Karl Steinmetz, and since the +despatch of this message had the starosta dropped into the habit of +standing at his doorway in the evening, with his hands clasped behind +his back and his beady black eyes bent westward along the prince's +high-road. + +On the particular evening with which we have to do the beady eyes looked +not in vain; for presently, far along the road, appeared a black speck +like an insect crawling over the face of a map. + +"Ah!" said the starosta. "Ah! he never fails." + +Presently a neighbor dropped in to buy some of the dried leaf which the +starosta, honest tradesman, called tea. He found the purveyor of +Cathay's produce at the door. + +"Ah!" he said, in a voice thick with vodka. "You see something on the +road?" + +"Yes." + +"A cart?" + +"No, a carriage. It moves too quickly." + +A strange expression came over the peasant's face, at no time a pleasing +physiognomy. The bloodshot eyes flared up suddenly like a smouldering +flame in brown paper. The unsteady, drink-sodden lips twitched. The man +threw up his shaggy head, upon which hair and beard mingled in unkempt +confusion. He glared along the road with eyes and face aglow with a +sullen, beast-like hatred. + +"A carriage! Then it is for the castle." + +"Possibly," answered the starosta. + +"The prince--curse him, curse his mother's soul, curse his wife's +offspring!" + +"Yes," said the starosta quietly. "Yes, curse him and all his works. +What is it you want, little father--tea?" + +He turned into the shop and served his customer, duly inscribing the +debt among others in a rough, cheap book. + +The word soon spread that a carriage was coming along the road from +Tver. All the villagers came to the doors of their dilapidated wooden +huts. Even the kabaks were emptied for a time. As the vehicle approached +it became apparent that the horses were going at a great pace; not only +was the loose horse galloping, but also the pair in the shafts. The +carriage was an open one, an ordinary North Russian travelling carriage, +not unlike the vehicle we call the victoria, set on high wheels. + +Beside the driver on the box sat another servant. In the open carriage +sat one man only, Karl Steinmetz. + +As he passed through the village a murmur of many voices followed him, +not quite drowned by the rattle of his wheels, the clatter of the +horses' feet. The murmur was a curse. Karl Steinmetz heard it +distinctly. It made him smile with a queer expression beneath his great +gray mustache. + +The starosta, standing in his door-way, saw the smile. He raised his +voice with his neighbors and cursed. As Steinmetz passed him he gave a +little jerk of the head toward the castle. The jerk of the head might +have been due to an inequality of the road, but it might also convey an +appointment. The keen, haggard face of Michael Roon showed no sign of +mutual understanding. And the carriage rattled on through the stricken +village. + +Two hours later, when it was quite dark, a closed carriage, with two +bright lamps flaring into the night, passed through the village toward +the castle at a gallop. + +"It is the prince," the peasants said, crouching in their low door-ways. +"It is the prince. We know his bells--they are of silver--and we shall +starve during the winter. Curse him--curse him!" + +They raised their heads and listened to the galloping feet with the +patient, dumb despair which is the curse of the Slavonic race. Some of +them crept to their doors, and, looking up, saw that the castle windows +were ablaze with light. If Paul Howard Alexis was a plain English +gentleman in London, he was also a great prince in his country, keeping +up a princely state, enjoying the gilded solitude that belongs to the +high-born. His English education had educed a strict sense of +discipline, and as in England, and, indeed, all through his life, so in +Russia did he attempt to do his duty. + +The carriage rattled up to the brilliantly lighted door, which stood +open, and within, on either side of the broad entrance-hall, the +servants stood to welcome their master. A strange, picturesque, motley +crew: the majordomo, in his black coat, and beside him the other +house-servants--tall, upright fellows, in their bright livery. Beyond +them the stable-men and keepers, a little army, in red cloth tunics, +with wide trousers tucked into high boots, all holding their fur caps in +their hands, standing stiffly at attention, clean, honest, and not too +intelligent. + +The castle of Osterno is built on the lines of many Russian country +seats, and not a few palaces in Moscow. The Royal Palace in the Kremlin +is an example. A broad entrance-hall, at the back of which a staircase +as broad stretches up to a gallery, around which the dwelling-rooms are +situated. At the head of the staircase, directly facing the +entrance-hall, high folding doors disclose the drawing-room, which is +almost a throne room. All gorgeous, lofty, spacious, as only Russian +houses are. Truly this northern empire, this great white land, is a +country in which it is good to be an emperor, a prince, a noble, but not +a poor man. + +Paul passed through the ranks of his retainers, himself a head taller +than the tallest footman, a few inches broader than the sturdiest +keeper. He acknowledged the low bows by a quick nod, and passed up the +staircase. Steinmetz--in evening dress, wearing the insignia of one or +two orders which he had won in the more active days of his earlier +diplomatic life--was waiting for him at the head of the stairs. + +The two men bowed gravely to each other. Steinmetz threw open the door +of the great room and stood aside. The prince passed on, and the German +followed him, each playing his part gravely, as men in high places are +called to do. When the door was closed behind them and they were alone, +there was no relaxation, no smile of covert derision. These men knew the +Russian character thoroughly. There is, be it known, no more +impressionable man on the face of God's earth. Paul and Steinmetz had +played their parts so long that these came to be natural to them as soon +as they passed the Volga. We are all so in a minor degree. In each +house, to each of our friends, we are unconsciously different in some +particular. One man holds us in awe, and we unconsciously instil that +feeling. Another considers us a buffoon, and, lo! we are exceedingly +funny. + +Paul and Steinmetz knew that the people around them in Osterno were +somewhat like the dumb and driven beast. These peasants required +overawing by a careful display of pomp--an unrelaxed dignity. The line +of demarcation between the noble and the peasant is so marked in the +land of the Czar that it is difficult for Englishmen to realize or +believe it. It is like the line that is drawn between us and our dogs. +If we suppose it possible that dogs could be taught to act and think for +themselves; if we take such a development as practicable, and consider +the possibilities of social upheaval lying behind such an education, we +can in a minute degree realize the problem which Prince Pavlo Alexis and +all his fellow-nobles will be called upon to solve within the lifetime +of men already born. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +THE MOSCOW DOCTOR + +"Colossal!" exclaimed Steinmetz, beneath his breath. With a little trick +of the tongue he transferred his cigar from the right-hand to the +left-hand corner of his mouth. "Colossal--l!" he repeated. + +For a moment Paul looked up from the papers spread out on the table +before him--looked with the preoccupied air of a man who is adding up +something in his mind. Then he returned to his occupation. He had been +at this work for four hours without a break. It was nearly one o'clock +in the morning. Since dinner Karl Steinmetz had consumed no less than +five cigars, while he had not spoken five words. These two men, locked +in a small room in the middle of the castle of Osterno--a room with no +window, but which gained its light from the clear heaven by a shaft and +a skylight on the roof--locked in thus they had been engaged in the +addition of an enormous mass of figures. Each sheet had been carefully +annotated and added by Steinmetz, and as each was finished he handed it +to his companion. + +"Is that fool never coming?" asked Paul, with an impatient glance at the +clock. + +"Our very dear friend the starosta," replied Steinmetz, "is no slave to +time. He is late." + +The room had the appearance of an office. There were two safes--square +chests such as we learn to associate with the name of Griffiths in this +country. There was a huge writing-table--a double table--at which Paul +and Steinmetz were seated. There were sundry stationery cases and an +almanac or so suspended on the walls, which were oaken panels. A large +white stove--common to all Russian rooms--stood against the wall. The +room had no less than three doors, with a handle on no one of them. Each +door opened with a key, like a cupboard. + +Steinmetz had apparently finished his work. He was sitting back in his +chair, contemplating his companion with a little smile. It apparently +tickled some obtuse Teutonic sense of humor to see this prince doing +work which is usually assigned to clerks--working out statistics and +abstruse calculations as to how much food is required to keep body and +soul together. + +The silence of the room was almost oppressive. A Russian village after +nightfall is the quietest human habitation on earth. For the moujik--the +native of a country which will some day supply the universe with +petroleum--cannot afford to light up his humble abode, and therefore +sits in darkness. Had the village of Osterno possessed the liveliness of +a Spanish hamlet, the sound of voices and laughter could not have +reached the castle perched high up on the rock above. + +But Osterno was asleep: the castle servants had long gone to rest, and +the great silence of Russia wrapped its wings over all. "When, +therefore, the clear, coughing bark of a wolf was heard, both occupants +of the little room looked up. The sound was repeated, and Steinmetz +slowly rose from his seat. + +"I can quite believe that our friend is able to call a wolf or a lynx to +him," he said. "He does it uncannily well." + +"I have seen him do so," said Paul, without looking up. "But it is a +common enough accomplishment among the keepers." + +Steinmetz had left the room before he finished speaking. One of the +doors of this little room communicated with a large apartment used as a +secretary's office, and through this by a small staircase with a side +entrance to the castle. By this side entrance the stewards of the +different outlying estates were conducted to the presence of the +resident secretary--a German selected and overawed by Karl Steinmetz--a +mere calculating machine of a man, with whom we have no affairs to +transact. + +Before many minutes had elapsed Steinmetz came back, closely followed by +the starosta, whose black eyes twinkled and gleamed in the sudden light +of the lamp. He dropped on his knees when he saw Paul--suddenly, +abjectly, like an animal, in his dumb attitude of deprecation. + +With a jerk of his head Paul bade him rise, which the man did, standing +back against the panelled wall, placing as great a distance between +himself and the prince as the size of the room would allow. + +"Well," said Paul curtly, almost roughly, "I hear you are in trouble in +the village." + +"The cholera has come, Excellency." + +"Many deaths?" + +"To-day--eleven." + +Paul looked up sharply. + +"And the doctor?" + +"He has not come yet, Excellency. I sent for him--a fortnight ago. The +cholera is at Oseff, at Dolja, at Kalisheffa. It is everywhere. He has +forty thousand souls under his care. He has to obey the Zemstvo, to go +where they tell him. He takes no notice of me." + +"Yes," interrupted Paul, "I know. And the people themselves, do they +attempt to understand it--to follow out my instructions?" + +The starosta spread out his thin hands in deprecation. He cringed a +little as he stood. He had Jewish blood in his veins, which, while it +raised him above his fellows in Osterno, carried with it the usual +tendency to cringe. It is in the blood; it is part of what the people +who stood without Pilate's palace took upon themselves and upon their +children. + +"Your Excellency," he said, "knows what they are. It is slow. They make +no progress. For them one disease is as another. 'Bog dal e Bog vzial,' +they say. 'God gave and God took!'" + +He paused, his black eyes flashing from one face to the other. + +"Only the Moscow doctor, Excellency," he said significantly, "can manage +them." + +Paul shrugged his shoulders. He rose from his seat, glancing at +Steinmetz, who was looking on in silence, with his queer, mocking smile. + +"I will go with you now," he said. "It is late enough already." + +The starosta bowed very low, but he said nothing. + +Paul went to a cupboard and took from it an old fur coat, dragged at the +seams, stained about the cuffs a dull brown--doctors know the color. +Such stains have hanged a man before now, for they are the marks of +blood. Paul put on this coat. He took a long, soft silken scarf such as +Russians wear in winter, and wrapped it round his throat, quite +concealing the lower part of his face. He crammed a fur cap down over +his ears. + +"Come," he said. + +Karl Steinmetz accompanied them down stairs, carrying a lamp in one +hand. He closed the door behind them, but did not lock it. Then he went +upstairs again to the quiet little room, where he sat down in a deep +chair. He looked at the open door of the cupboard from which Paul Alexis +had taken his simple disguise, with a large, tolerant humor. + +"El Señor Don Quixote de la Mancha," he said sleepily. + +It is said that to a doctor nothing is shocking and nothing is +disgusting. But doctors are, after all, only men of stomach like the +rest of us, and it is to be presumed that what nauseates one will +nauseate the other. When the starosta unceremoniously threw open the +door of the miserable cabin belonging to Vasilli Tula, Paul gave a +little gasp. The foul air pouring out of the noisome den was such that +it seemed impossible that human lungs could assimilate it. This Vasilli +Tula was a notorious drunkard, a discontent, a braggart. The Nihilist +propaganda had in the early days of that mistaken mission reached him +and unsettled his discontented mind. Misfortune seemed to pursue him. In +higher grades of life than his there are men who, like Tula, make a +profession of misfortune. + +Paul stumbled down two steps. The cottage was dark. The starosta had +apparently trodden on a chicken, which screamed shrilly and fluttered +about in the dark with that complete abandon which belongs to chickens, +sheep, and some women. + +"Have you no light?" cried the starosta. + +Paul retreated to the top step, where he had a short-lived struggle with +a well-grown calf which had been living in the room with the family, and +evinced a very creditable desire for fresh air. + +"Yes, yes, we have a little petroleum," said a voice. "But we have no +matches." + +The starosta struck a light. + +"I have brought the Moscow doctor to see you." + +"The Moscow doctor!" cried several voices. "Sbogom--sbogom! God be with +you!" + +In the dim light the whole of the floor seemed to get up and shake +itself. There were at least seven persons sleeping in the hut. Two of +them did not get up. One was dead. The other was dying of cholera. + +A heavily built man reached down from the top of the brick stove a cheap +tin paraffin lamp, which he handed to the starosta. By the light of this +Paul came again into the hut. The floor was filthy, as may be imagined, +for beasts and human beings lived here together. + +The man--Vasilli Tula--threw himself down on his knees, clawing at +Paul's coat with great unwashed hands, whining out a tale of sorrow and +misfortune. In a moment they were all on their knees, clinging to him, +crying to him for help: Tula himself, a wild-looking Slav of fifty or +thereabouts; his wife, haggard, emaciated, horrible to look upon, for +she was toothless and almost blind; two women and a loutish boy of +sixteen. + +Paul pushed his way, not unkindly, toward the corner where the two +motionless forms lay half concealed by a mass of ragged sheepskin. + +"Here," he said, "this woman is dead. Take her out. When will you learn +to be clean? This boy may live--with care. Bring the light closer, +little mother. So, it is well. He will live. Come, don't sit crying. +Take all these rags out and burn them. All of you go out. It is a fine +night. You are better in the cart-shed than here. Here, you, Tula, go +round with the starosta to his store. He will give you clean blankets." + +They obeyed him blindly. Tula and one of the young women (his daughters) +dragged the dead body, which was that of a very old woman, out into the +night. The starosta had retired to the door-way when the lamp was +lighted, his courage having failed him. The air was foul with the reek +of smoke and filth and infection. + +"Come, Vasilli Tula," the village elder said, with suspicious eagerness. +"Come with me, I will give you what the good doctor says. Though you owe +me money, and you never try to pay me." + +But Tula was kissing and mumbling over the hem of Paul's coat. Paul took +no notice of him. + +"We are starving, Excellency," the man was saying. "I can get no work. I +had to sell my horse in the winter, and I cannot plough my little piece +of land. The Government will not help us. The Prince--curse him!--does +nothing for us. He lives in Petersburg, where he spends all his money, +and has food and wine more than he wants. The Count Stépan Lanovitch +used to assist us--God be with him! But he has been sent to Siberia +because he helped the peasants. He was like you; he was a great bárin, a +great noble, and yet he helped the peasants." + +Paul turned round sharply and shook the man off. + +"Go," he said, "with the starosta and get what I tell you. A great, +strong fellow like you has no business on his knees to any man! I will +not help you unless you help yourself. You are a lazy good-for-nothing. +Get out!" + +He pushed him out of the hut, and kicked after him a few rags of +clothing which were lying about on the floor, all filthy and slimy. + +"Good God!" muttered he under his breath, in English, "that a place like +this should exist beneath the very walls of Osterno!" + +From hut to hut he went all through that night on his mission of +mercy--without enthusiasm, without high-flown notions respecting +mankind, but with the simple sense of duty that was his. These people +were his things--his dumb and driven beasts. In his heart there may have +existed a grudge against the Almighty for placing him in a position +which was not only intensely disagreeable, but also somewhat ridiculous. +For he did not dare to tell his friends of these things. He had spoken +of them to no man except Karl Steinmetz, who was in a sense his +dependent. English public school and university had instilled into him +the intensely British feeling of shame respecting good works. He could +take chaff as well as any man, for he was grave by habit, and a grave +man receives the most chaff most good-humoredly. But he had a nervous +dread of being found out. He had made a sort of religion of suppressing +the fact that he was a prince; the holy of holies of this cult was the +fact that he was a prince who sought to do good to his neighbor--a +prince in whom one might repose trust. + +This was not the first time by any number that he had gone down into his +own village insisting in a rough-and-ready way on cleanliness and +purity. + +"The Moscow doctor"--the peasants would say in the kabak over their +vodka and their tea--"the Moscow doctor comes in and kicks our beds out +of the door. He comes in and throws our furniture into the street But +afterward he gives us new beds and new furniture." + +It was a joke that always obtained in the kabak. It flavored the vodka, +and with that fiery poison served to raise a laugh. + +The Moscow doctor was looked upon in Osterno and in many neighboring +villages as second only to God. In fact, many of the peasants placed him +before their Creator. They were stupid, vodka-soddened, hapless men. The +Moscow doctor they could see for themselves. He came in, a very tangible +thing of flesh and blood, built on a large and manly scale; he took them +by the shoulders and bundled them out of their own houses, kicking their +bedding after them. He scolded them, he rated them and abused them. He +brought them food and medicine. He understood the diseases which from +time to time swept over their villages. No cold was too intense for him +to brave should they be in distress. He asked no money, and he gave +none. But they lived on his charity, and they were wise enough to know +it. + +What wonder if these poor wretches loved the man whom they could see and +hear above the God who manifested himself to them in no way! The +orthodox priests of their villages had no money to spend on their +parishioners. On the contrary, they asked for money to keep the churches +in repair. What wonder, then, if these poor ignorant, helpless peasants +would listen to no priest; for the priest could not explain to them why +it was that God sent a four-month-long winter which cut them off from +the rest of the world behind impassable barriers of snow; that God sent +them droughts in the summer so that there was no crop of rye; that God +scourged them with dread and horrible disease! + +It is almost impossible for us to realize, in these days of a lamentably +cheap press and a cheaper literature, the mental condition of men and +women who have no education, no newspaper, no news of the world, no +communication with the universe. To them the mystery of the Moscow +doctor was as incomprehensible as to us is the Deity. They were so near +to the animals that Paul could not succeed in teaching them that disease +and death followed on the heels of dirt and neglect. They were too +ignorant to reason, too low down the animal scale to comprehend things +which some of the dumb animals undoubtedly recognize. + +Paul Alexis, half Russian, half English, understood these people very +thoroughly. He took advantage of their ignorance, their simplicity, +their unfathomable superstition. He governed as no other could have +ruled them, by fear and kindness at once. He mastered them by his +vitality, the wholesome strength of his nature, his infinite +superiority. He avoided the terrible mistake of the Nihilists by +treating them as children to whom education must be given little by +little instead of throwing down before them a mass of dangerous +knowledge which their minds, unaccustomed to such strong food, are +incapable of digesting. + +A British coldness of blood damped as it were the Russian quixotism +which would desire to see result follow upon action--to see the world +make quicker progress than its Creator has decreed. With very +unsatisfactory material Paul was setting in motion a great rock which +will roll down into the ages unconnected with his name, clearing a path +through a very thick forest of ignorance and tyranny. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +CATRINA + +The man who carries a deceit, however innocent, with him through life is +apt to be somewhat handicapped in that unfair competition. He is like a +ship at sea with a "sprung" mainmast. A side breeze may arise at any +moment which throws him all aback and upon his beam-ends. He runs +illegitimate risks, which are things much given to dragging at a man's +mind, handicapping his thoughts. + +Paul suffered in this way. It was a distinct burthen to him to play a +double part, although each was innocent enough in itself. At school, and +later on at the 'Varsity, he had consistently and steadily suppressed a +truth from friend and foe alike--namely, that he was in his own country +a prince. No great crime on the face of it; but a constant suppression +of a very small truth is as burdensome as any suggestion of falsehood. +It makes one afraid of contemptible foes, and doubtful of the value of +one's own friendship. + +Paul was a simple-minded man. He was not afraid of the Russian +Government. Indeed, he cultivated a fine contempt for that august body. +But he was distinctly afraid of being found out, for that discovery +could only mean an incontinent cessation of the good work which rendered +his life happy. + +The fear of being deprived of this interest in existence should +certainly have been lessened, if not quite allayed, by the fact that a +greater interest had been brought into his life in the pleasant form of +a prospective wife. When he was in London with Etta Sydney Bamborough he +did not, however, forget Osterno. He only longed for the time when he +could take Etta freely into his confidence and engage her interest in +the object of his ambition--namely, to make the huge Osterno estate into +that lump of leaven which might in time leaven the whole of the empire. + +That a man is capable of sustaining two absorbing interests at once is a +matter of every-day illustration. Are we not surrounded by men who do +their work well in life, and love their wives well at home, without +allowing the one to interfere with the other? That women are capable of +the same seems exceedingly probable. But we are a race of sheep who run +after each other, guided for the moment by a catchword which will not +bear investigation, or an erroneous deduction set in alliterative verse +which clings to the mind and sways it. Thus we all think that woman's +whole existence is, and is only capable of, love, because a poet, in the +trickiness of his trade, once said so. + +Now, Paul held a different opinion. He thought that Etta could manage to +love him well, as she said she did, and yet take an interest in that +which was in reality the object of his life. He intended to take the +earliest opportunity of telling her all about the work he was +endeavoring to carry out at Osterno, and the knowledge that he was +withholding something from her was a constant burden to an upright and +honest nature. + +"I think," he said one morning to Steinmetz, "that I will write and tell +Mrs. Sydney Bamborough all about this place." + +"I should not do that," replied Steinmetz with a leisurely promptitude. + +They were alone in a great smoking-room of which the walls were hung all +round with hunting trophies. Paul was smoking a post-prandial cigar. +Steinmetz reflected gravely over a pipe. They were both reading Russian +newspapers--periodicals chiefly remarkable for that which they leave +unsaid. + +"Why not?" asked Paul. + +"On principle. Never tell a woman that which is not interesting enough +to magnify into a secret." + +Paul turned over his newspaper. He began reading again. Then, suddenly, +he looked up. + +"We are engaged to be married," he observed pointedly. + +Steinmetz took his pipe from his lips slowly and imperturbably. He was a +man to whom it was no satisfaction to impart news. He either knew it +before or did not take much interest in the matter. + +"That makes it worse," he said. "A woman only conceals what is bad about +her husband. If she knows anything that is likely to make other women +think that their husbands are inferior, she will tell it." + +Paul laughed. + +"But this is not good," he argued. "We have kept it so confoundedly +quiet that I am beginning to feel as if it is a crime." + +Steinmetz uncrossed his legs, crossed them again, and then spoke after +mature reflection: + +"As I understand the law of libel, a man is punished, not for telling a +lie, but for telling either the truth or a lie with malicious intent. I +imagine the Almighty will take the intent into consideration, if human +justice finds it expedient to do so!" + +Paul shrugged his shoulders. Argument was not his strong point, and, +like most men who cannot argue, he was almost impervious to the +arguments of others. He recognized the necessity for secrecy--the +absolute need of a thousand little secretive precautions and disguises +which were intensely disagreeable to him. But he also grumbled at them +freely, and whenever he made such objection Karl Steinmetz grew uneasy, +as if the question which he disposed of with facile philosophy or +humorous resignation had behind it a possibility and an importance of +which he was fully aware. It was on these rare occasions that he might +have conveyed to a keen observer the impression that he was playing a +very dangerous game with a smiling countenance. + +"All that we do," pursued Steinmetz, "is to bow to a lamentable +necessity for deceit. I have bowed to it all my life. It has been my +trade, perhaps. It is not our fault that we are placed in charge of four +or five thousand human beings who are no more capable of helping +themselves than are sheep. It is not our fault that the forefathers of +these sheep cut down the forests and omitted to plant more, so that the +flocks with whom we have to deal have no fuel. It is not our fault that +a most terrific winter annually renders the land unproductive for four +months. It is not our fault that the government to which we are forced +to bow--the Czar whose name lifts our hats from our heads--it is not our +fault that progress and education are taboo, and that all who endeavor +to forward the cause of humanity are promptly put away in a safe place +where they are at liberty to forward their own salvation and nothing +else. Nothing is our fault, mein lieber, in this country. We have to +make the best of adverse circumstances. We are not breaking any human +law, and in doing nothing we should be breaking a divine command." + +Paul flicked the ash off his cigar. He had heard all this before. Karl +Steinmetz's words were usually more remarkable for solid thoughtfulness +than for brilliancy of conception or any great novelty of expression. + +"Oh!" said Paul quietly, "I am not going to leave off. You need not fear +that. Only I shall have to tell my wife. Surely a woman could help us in +a thousand ways. There is such a lot that only a woman understands." + +"Yes!" grunted Steinmetz; "and only the right sort of woman." + +Paul looked up sharply. + +"You must leave that to me," he said. + +"My very dear friend, I leave every thing to you." + +Paul smiled. + +There was no positive proof that this was not strictly true. There was +no saying that Karl Steinmetz did not leave every thing to every-body. +But wise people thought differently. + +"You don't know Etta," he said, half shyly. "She is full of sympathy and +pity for these people." + +Steinmetz bowed gravely. + +"I have no doubt of it." + +"And yet you say that she must not be told." + +"Certainly not. A secret is considerably strained if it be divided +between two people. Stretching it to three will probably break it. You +can tell her when you are married. Does she consent to live in Osterno?" + +"Oh, yes. I think so." + +"Um--m!" + +"What did you say?" + +"Um--m," repeated Steinmetz, and the conversation somewhat naturally +showed signs of collapse. + +At this moment the door was opened, and a servant in bright livery, with +powdered wig, silk stockings, and a countenance which might have been of +wood, brought in a letter on a silver tray. + +Paul took the square envelope and turned it over, displaying as he did +so a coronet in black and gold on the corner, like a stamp. + +Karl Steinmetz saw the coronet. He never took his quiet, unobtrusive +glance from Paul's face while he opened the letter and read it. + +"A fresh difficulty," said Paul, throwing the note across to his +companion. + +Steinmetz looked grave while he unfolded the thick stationery. + +"Dear Paul [the letter ran]: I hear you are at Osterno and that the +Moscow doctor is in your country. We are in great distress at +Thors--cholera, I fear. The fame of your doctor has spread to my people, +and they are clamoring for him. Can you bring or send him over? You know +your room here is always in readiness. Come soon with the great doctor, +and also Herr Steinmetz. In doing so you will give more than pleasure to +your old friend," + +Catrina Lanovitch. + +"P.S. Mother is afraid to go out of doors for fear of infection. She +thinks she has a little cold." + +Steinmetz folded the letter very carefully, pressing the seam of it +reflectively with his stout forefinger and thumb. + +"I always think of the lie first," he said. "It's my nature or my +misfortune. We can easily write and say that the Moscow doctor has +left." + +He paused, scratching his brow pensively with his curved forefinger. It +is to be feared that he was seeking not so much the truth as the most +convenient perversion of the same. + +"But then," he went on, "by doing that we leave these poor devils to die +in their--styes. Catrina cannot manage them. They are worse than our +people." + +"Whatever is the best lie to tell," burst in Paul--"as we seem to live +in an atmosphere of them--I must go to Thors; that is quite certain." + +"There is no must in the case," put in Steinmetz quietly, as a +parenthesis. "No man is compelled to throw himself in the way of +infection. But I know you will go, whatever I say." + +"I suppose I shall," admitted Paul. + +"And Catrina will find you out at once." + +"Why?" + +Steinmetz drew in his feet. He leant forward and knocked his pipe on one +of the logs that lay ready to light in the great open fire-place. + +"Because she loves you," he said shortly. "There is no coming the Moscow +doctor over her, mien lieber." + +Paul laughed rather awkwardly. He was one of the few men--daily growing +fewer--who hold that a woman's love is not a thing to be tossed lightly +about in conversation. + +"Then--" he began, speaking rather quickly, as if afraid that Steinmetz +was going to say more. "If," he amended, "you think she will find out, +she must not see me, that is all." + +Steinmetz reflected again. He was unusually grave over this matter. One +would scarcely have taken this stout German for a person of any +sentiment whatever. Nevertheless he would have liked Paul to marry +Catrina Lanovitch in preference to Etta Sydney Bamborough, merely +because he thought that the former loved him, while he felt sure that +the latter did not. So much for the sentimental point of view--a +starting-point, by the way, which usually makes all the difference in a +man's life. For a man needs to be loved as much as a woman needs it. +From the practical point of view, Karl Steinmetz knew too much about +Etta to place entire reliance on the goodness of her motives. He keenly +suspected that she was marrying Paul for his money--for the position he +could give her in the world. + +"We must be careful," he said. "We must place clearly before ourselves +the risks that we are running before we come to any decision. For you +the risk is simply that of unofficial banishment. They can hardly send +you to Siberia because you are half an Englishman; and that impertinent +country has a habit of getting up and shouting when her sons are +interfered with. But they can easily make Russia impossible for you. +They can do you more harm than you think. They can do these poor devils +of peasants of yours more harm than we can comfortably contemplate. As +for me," he paused and shrugged his great shoulders, "it means Siberia. +Already I am a suspect--a persona non grata." + +"I do not see how we can refuse to help Catrina," said Paul, in a voice +which Steinmetz seemed to know, for he suddenly gave in. + +"As you will," he said. + +He sat up, and, drawing a small table toward him, took up a pen +reflectively. Paul watched him in silence. + +When the letter was finished, Steinmetz read it aloud: + +"My Dear Catrina: + +"The Moscow doctor and your obedient servant will be (D.V.) in Thors by +seven o'clock to-night. We propose spending about an hour in the +village, if you will kindly advise the starosta to be ready for us. As +our time is limited, and we are much needed in Osterno, we shall have to +deprive ourselves of the pleasure of calling at the castle. The prince +sends kind remembrances, and proposes riding over to Thors to avail +himself of your proffered hospitality in a day or two. With salutations +to the countess, + +"Your old friend, + +"Karl Steinmetz." + +Steinmetz waited with the letter in his hand for Paul's approval. "You +see," he explained, "you are notoriously indifferent to the welfare of +the peasants. It would be unnatural if you suddenly displayed so much +interest as to induce you to go to Thors on a mission of charity." + +Paul nodded. "All right," he said. "Yes, I see; though I confess I +sometimes forget what the deuce I _am_ supposed to be." + +Steinmetz laughed pleasantly as he folded the letter. He rose and went +to the door. + +"I will send it off," he said. He paused on the threshold and looked +back gravely. "Do not forget," he added, "that Catrina Lanovitch loves +you." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +AT THORS + +Below the windows of a long, low, stone house, in its architecture +remarkably like a fortified farm--below these deep-embrasured windows +the river Oster mumbled softly. One of the windows was wide open, and +with the voice of the water a wonderful music rolled out to mingle and +lose itself in the hum of the pine-woods. + +The room was a small one; beneath the artistic wall-paper one detected +the outline of square-hewn stones. There were women's things lying +about; there were flowers in a bowl on a low, strong table. There were a +few good engravings on the wall; deep-curtained windows, low chairs, a +sofa, a fan. But it was not a womanly room. The music filling it, +vibrating back from the grim stone walls, was not womanly music. It was +more than manly. It was not earthly, but almost divine. It happened to +be Grieg, with the halting beat of a disabled, perhaps a broken, heart +in it, as that master's music usually has. + +The girl was alone in the room. The presence of any one would have +silenced something that was throbbing at the back of the chords. Quite +suddenly she stopped. She knew how to play the quaint last notes. She +knew something that no master had ever taught her. + +She swung round on the stool and faced the light. It was afternoon--an +autumn afternoon in Russia--and the pink light made the very best of a +face which was not beautiful at all, never could be beautiful--a face +about which even the owner, a woman, could have no possible illusion. It +was broad and powerful, with eyes too far apart, forehead too broad and +low, jaw too heavy, mouth too determined. The eyes were almond-shaped, +and slightly sloping downward and inward--deep, passionate blue eyes set +in a Mongolian head. It was the face of a woman who could, morally +speaking, make mincemeat of nine young men out of ten. But she could not +have made one out of the number love her. For it has been decreed that +women shall win love--except in some happy exceptions--by beauty only. +The same unwritten law has it that a man's appearance does not matter--a +law much appreciated by some of us, and duly canonized by not a few. + +The girl was evidently listening. She glanced at a little golden clock +on the mantel-piece, and then at the open window. She rose--she was +short, and somewhat broadly built--and went to the window. + +"He will be back," she said to herself, "in a few minutes now." + +She raised her hand to her forehead, and pressed back her hair with a +little movement of impatience, expressive, perhaps, of a great suspense. +She stood idly drumming on the window-sill for a few moments; then, with +a quick little sigh, she went back to the piano. As she moved she gave a +jerk of the head from time to time, as schoolgirls who have too much +hair are wont to do. The reason of this nervous movement was a wondrous +plait of gold reaching far below her waist. Catrina Lanovitch almost +worshipped her own hair. She knew without any doubt that not one woman +in ten thousand could rival her in this feminine glory--knew it as +indubitably as she knew that she was plain. The latter fact she faced +with an unflinching, cold conviction which was not feminine at all. She +did not say that she was hideous, for the sake of hearing a +contradiction or a series of saving clauses. She never spoke of it to +any one. She had grown up with it, and as it was beyond doubt, so was it +outside discussion. All her femininity seemed to be concentrated, all +her vanity centred, on her hair. It was her one pride, perhaps her one +hope. Women have been loved for their voices. Catrina's voice was +musical enough, but it was deep and strong. It was passionate, tender if +she wished, fascinating; but it was not lovable. If the voice may win +love, why not the hair? + +Catrina despised all men but one--that one she worshipped. She lived +night and day with one great desire, beside which heaven and hell were +mere words. Neither the hope of the one nor the fear of the other in any +way touched or affected her desire. She wanted to make Paul Alexis love +her; and, womanlike, she clung to the one womanly charm that was +hers--the wonderful golden hair. Pathetic, aye, pathetic--with a grin +behind the pathos, as there ever is. + +She sat down at the piano, and her strong, small hands tore the heart +out of each wire. There are some people who get farther into a piano +than others, making the wires speak as with a voice. Catrina Lanovitch +had this trick. She only played a Russian people-song--a simple lay such +as one may hear issuing from the door of any kabak on a summer evening. +But she infused a true Russian soul into it--the soul that is cursed +with a fatal power of dumb and patient endurance. She did not sway from +side to side as do some people who lose themselves in the intoxication +of music. But she sat quite upright, her sturdy, square shoulders +motionless. Her strange eyes were fixed with the stillness of distant +contemplation. + +Suddenly she stopped and leaped to her feet. She did not go to the +window, but stood listening beside the piano. The beat of a horse's +hoofs on the narrow road was distinctly audible, hollow and sodden as is +the sound of a wooden road. It came nearer and nearer, and a certain +unsteadiness indicated that the horse was tired. + +"I thought he might have come," she whispered, and she sat down +breathlessly. + +When the servant came into the room a few minutes later Catrina was at +the piano. + +"A letter, mademoiselle," said the maid. + +"Lay it on the table," answered Catrina, without looking round. She was +playing the closing bars of a nocturne. + +She rose slowly, turned, and seized the letter as a starving man seizes +food. There was something almost wolf-like in her eyes. + +"Steinmetz," she exclaimed, reading the address. "Steinmetz. Oh! why +won't he write to me?" + +She tore open the letter, read it, and stood holding it in her hand, +looking out over the trackless pine-woods with absorbed, speculative +eyes. The sun had just set. The farthest ridge of pine-trees stood out +like the teeth of a saw in black relief on the rosy sky. Catrina +Lanovitch watched the rosiness fade into pearly gray. + +"Madame the Countess awaits mademoiselle for tea," said the maid's voice +suddenly, in the gloom of the door-way. + +"I will come." + +The village of Thors--twenty miles farther down the river Oster, twenty +miles nearer to the junction of that river with the Volga--was little +more than a hamlet in the days of which we write. Some day, perhaps, the +three hundred souls of Thors may increase and multiply--some day when +Russia is attacked by the railway fever. For Thors is on the +Chorno-Ziom--the belt of black and fertile soil that runs right across +the vast empire. + +Karl Steinmetz, a dogged watcher of the Wandering Jew--the deathless +scoffer at our Lord's agony, who shall never die, who shall leave +cholera in his track wherever he may wander--Karl Steinmetz knew that +the Oster was in itself a Wandering Jew. This river meandered through +the lonesome country, bearing cholera germs within its waters. Whenever +Osterno had cholera it sent it down the river to Thors, and so on to the +Volga. + +Thors lay groaning under the scourge, and the Countess Lanovitch shut +herself within her stone walls, shivering with fear, begging her +daughter to return to Petersburg. + +It was nearly dark when Karl Steinmetz and the Moscow doctor rode into +the little village, to find the starosta, a simple Russian farmer, +awaiting them outside the kabak. + +Steinmetz knew the man, and immediately took command of the situation +with that unquestioned sense of authority which in Russia places the +bárin on much the same footing as that taken by the Anglo-Indian in our +eastern empire. + +"Now, starosta," he said, "we have only an hour to spend in Thors. This +is the Moscow doctor. If you listen to what he tells you, you will soon +have no sickness in the village. The worst houses first--and quickly. +You need not be afraid, but if you do not care to come in, you may stay +outside." + +As they walked down the straggling village-street the Moscow doctor told +the starosta in no measured terms, as was his wont, wherein lay the +heart of the sickness. Here, as in Osterno, dirt and neglect were at the +base of all the trouble. Here, as in the larger village, the houses were +more like the abode of four-footed beasts than the dwellings of human +beings. + +The starosta prudently remained outside the first house to which he +introduced the visitors. Paul went fearlessly in, while Steinmetz stood +in the door-way, holding open the door. + +As he was standing there he perceived a flickering light approaching +him. The light was evidently that of an ordinary hand-lantern, and from +the swinging motion it was easy to divine that it was being carried by +some one who was walking quickly. + +"Who is this?" asked Steinmetz. + +"It is likely to be the Countess Catrina, Excellency." + +Steinmetz glanced back into the cottage, which was dark save for the +light of a single petroleum lamp. Paul's huge form could be dimly +distinguished bending over a heap of humanity and foul clothing in a +corner. + +"Does she visit the cottages?" asked Steinmetz sharply. + +"She does, God be with her! She has no fear. She is an angel. Without +her we should all be dead." + +"She won't visit this, if I can help it," muttered Steinmetz. + +The light flickered along the road toward them. In the course of a few +minutes it fell on the stricken cottage, on the starosta standing in the +road, on Steinmetz in the door-way. + +"Herr Steinmetz, is that you?" asked a voice, deep and musical, in the +darkness. + +"Zum Befehl," answered Steinmetz, without moving. + +Catrina came up to him. She was clad in a long dark cloak, a dark hat, +and wore no gloves. She brought with her a clean aromatic odor of +disinfectants. She carried the lantern herself, while behind her walked +a man-servant in livery, with a large basket in either hand. + +"It is good of you," she said, "to come to us in our need--also to +persuade the good doctor to come with you." + +"It is not much that we can do," answered Steinmetz, taking the small +outstretched hand within his large soft grasp; "but that little you may +always count upon." + +"I know," she said gravely. + +She looked up at him, expecting him to step aside and allow her to pass +into the cottage; but Steinmetz stood quite still, looking down at her +with his pleasant smile. + +"And how is it with you?" he asked, speaking in German, as they always +did together. + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"Oh!" she answered indifferently, "I am well, of course. I always am. I +have the strength of a horse. Of course I have been troubled about these +poor people. It has been terrible. They are worse than children. I +cannot quite understand why God afflicts them so. They have never done +any harm. They are not like the Jews. It seems unjust. I have been very +busy, in my small way. My mother, you know, does not take much interest +in things that are not clean." + +"Madame the Countess reads French novels and the fictional productions +of some modern English ladies," suggested Steinmetz quietly. + +"Yes; but she objects to honest dirt," said Catrina coldly. "May I go +in?" + +Steinmetz did not move. + +"I think not. This Moscow man is eccentric. He likes to do good sub +rosa. He prefers to be alone." + +Catrina tried to look into the cottage; but Karl Steinmetz, as we know, +was fat, and filled up the whole door-way. + +"I should like to thank him for coming to us, or, at least, to offer him +hospitality. I suppose one cannot pay him." + +"No; one cannot pay him," answered Steinmetz gravely. + +There was a little pause. From the interior of the cottage came the +murmured gratitude of the peasants, broken at times by a wail of +agony--the wail of a man. It is not a pleasant sound to hear. Catrina +heard it, and it twisted her plain, strong face in a sudden spasm of +sympathy. + +Again she made an impatient little movement. + +"Let me go in," she urged. "I may be able to help." + +Steinmetz shook his head. + +"Better not!" he said. "Besides, your life is too precious to these poor +people to run unnecessary risks." + +She gave a strange, bitter laugh. + +"And what about you?" she said. "And Paul?" + +"You never hear of Paul going into any of the cottages," snapped +Steinmetz sharply. "For me it is different. You have never heard that of +Paul." + +"No," she answered slowly; "and it is quite right. His life--it is +different for him. How--how is Paul?" + +"He is well, thank you." + +Steinmetz glanced down at her. She was looking across the plains beyond +the boundless pine forests that lay between Thors and the Volga. + +"Quite well," he went on, kindly enough. "He hopes to ride over and pay +his respects to the countess to-morrow or the next day." + +And the keen, kind eyes saw what they expected in the flickering light +of the lamp. + +At this moment Steinmetz was pushed aside from within, and a hulking +young man staggered out into the road, propelled from behind with +considerable vigor. After him came a shower of clothes and bedding. + +"Pah!" exclaimed Steinmetz, spluttering. "Himmel! What filth! Be +careful, Catrina!" + +But Catrina had slipped past him. In an instant he had caught her by the +wrist. + +"Come back!" he cried. "You must not go in there!" + +She was just over the threshold. + +"You have some reason for keeping me out," she returned, wriggling in +his strong grasp. "I will--I will!" + +With a twist she wrenched herself free and went into the dimly lighted +room. + +Almost immediately she gave a mocking laugh. + +"Paul!" she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +UNMASKED + +For a moment there was silence in the hovel, broken only by the wail of +the dying man in the corner. Paul and Catrina faced each other--she +white and suddenly breathless, he half frowning. But he did not meet her +eyes. + +"Paul," she said again, with a lingering touch on the name. The sound of +her voice, a rough sort of tenderness in her angry tone, made Steinmetz +smile in his grim way, as a man may smile when in pain. + +"Paul, what did you do this for? Why are you here? Oh, why are you in +this wretched place?" + +"Because you sent for me," he answered quietly. "Come, let us go out. I +have finished here. That man will die. There is nothing more to be done +for him. You must not stay in here." + +She gave a short laugh as she followed him. He had to stoop low to pass +through the door-way. Then he turned and held out his hand, for fear she +should trip over the high threshold. She nodded her thanks, but refused +the proffered assistance. + +Steinmetz lingered behind to give some last instructions, leaving Paul +and Catrina to walk on down the narrow street alone. The moon was just +rising--a great yellow moon such as only Russia knows--the land of the +silver night. + +"How long have you been doing this?" asked Catrina suddenly. She did not +look toward him, but straight in front of her. + +"For some years now," he replied simply. + +He lingered. He was waiting for Steinmetz, who always rose to such +emergencies, who understood secrets and how to secure them when they +seemed already lost. He did not quite understand what was to be done +with Catrina--how she was to be silenced. She had found him out with +such startling rapidity that he felt disposed to admit her right to +dictate her own terms. On a straight road this man was fearless and +quick, but he had no taste or capacity for crooked ways. + +Catrina walked on in silence. She was not looking at the matter from his +point of view at all. + +"Of course," she said at length, "of course, Paul, I admire you for it +immensely. It is just like you to go and do the thing quietly and say +nothing about it; but--oh, you must go away from here. I--I--it is too +horrible to think of your running such risks. Rather let them all die +like flies than that. You mustn't do it. You mustn't." + +She spoke in English hurriedly, with a little break in her voice which +he did not understand. + +"With ordinary precautions the risk is very small," he said practically. + +"Yes. But do you take ordinary precautions? Are you sure you are all +right now?" + +She stopped. They were quite alone in the one silent street of the +stricken village. She looked up into his face. Her hands were running +over the breast of the tattered coat he wore. It was lamentably obvious, +even to him, that she loved him. In her anxiety she either did not know +what she was doing, or she did not care whether he knew or not. She +merely gave sway to the maternal instinct which is in the love of all +women. She felt his hands; she reached up and touched his face. + +"Are you sure--are you sure you have not taken it?" she whispered. + +He walked on, almost roughly. + +"Oh, yes; quite," he said. + +"I will not allow you to go into any more houses in Thors. I cannot--I +will not! Oh, Paul, you don't know. If you do, I will tell them all who +you are, and--and the Government will stop you." + +"What would be the good of that?" said Paul awkwardly. "Your father +cared for his peasants, and was content to run risks for them. I suppose +you care about them, too, as you go into their houses." + +"Yes; but--" + +She paused, gave a strange little reckless laugh, and was silent. Heaven +forbid that we should say that she wanted him to know that she loved +him. Chivalry bids us believe that women guard the secret of their love +inviolate from the world. But what was Catrina to do? Men are in the +habit of forgetting that plain women are women at all. Surely some of +them may be excused for reminding us at times that they also are capable +of loving--that they also desire to be loved. Happy is the man who loves +and is loved of a plain woman; for she will take her own lack of beauty +into consideration, and give him more than most beautiful women have it +in their power to give. + +"Of course," Catrina went on, with a sudden anger which surprised +herself, "I cannot stop you from doing this at Osterno, though I think +it is wicked; but I can prevent you from doing it here, and I certainly +shall!" + +Paul shrugged his shoulders. + +"As you like," he said. "I thought you cared more about the peasants." + +"I do not care a jot about the peasants," she answered passionately, "as +compared--It is you I am thinking about, not them. I think you are +selfish, and cruel to your friends." + +"My friends have never shown that they are consumed with anxiety on my +account." + +"That is mere prevarication. Leave that to Herr Steinmetz and such men, +whose business it is; you don't do it well. Your friends may feel a lot +that they do not show." + +She spoke the words shortly and sharply. Surreptitious good is so rare, +that when it is found out it very naturally gets mixed up with secret +evil, and the perpetrator of the hidden good deed feels guilty of a +crime. Paul was in this lamentable position, which he proceeded to +further aggravate by seeking to excuse himself. + +"I did it after mature consideration. I tried paying another man, but he +shirked his work and showed the white feather; so Steinmetz and I +concluded that there was nothing to be done but do our dirty work +ourselves." + +"Which, being translated, means that you do it." + +"Pardon me. Steinmetz does his share." + +Catrina Lanovitch was essentially a woman, despite her somewhat +masculine frame. She settled Karl Steinmetz's account with a sniff of +contempt. + +"And that is why you have been so fond of Osterno the last two years?" +she asked innocently. + +"Yes," he answered, falling into the trap. + +Catrina winced. One does not wince the less because the pain is +expected. The girl had the Slav instinct of self-martyrdom, which makes +Russians so very different from the pleasure-loving nations of Europe. + +"Only that?" she enquired. + +Paul glanced down at her. + +"Yes," he answered quietly. + +They walked on in silence for a few moments. Paul seemed tacitly to have +given up the idea of visiting any more of the stricken cottages. They +were going toward the long old house, which was called the castle more +by courtesy than by right. + +"How long are you going to stay in Osterno?" asked Catrina at length. + +"About a fortnight; I cannot stay longer. I am going to be married." + +Catrina stopped dead. She stood for a moment looking at the ground with +a sort of wonder in her eyes, not pleasant to see. It was the look of +one who, having fallen from a great height, is not quite sure whether it +means death or not. Then she walked on. + +"I congratulate you," she said. "I only hope she will make you happy. +She is--beautiful, I suppose?" + +"Yes," answered Paul simply. + +The girl nodded her head. + +"What is her name?" + +"Etta Sydney Bamborough." + +Catrina had evidently never heard the name before. It conveyed nothing +to her. Womanlike, she went back to her first question. + +"What is she like?" + +Paul hesitated. + +"Tall, I suppose?" suggested the stunted woman at his side. + +"Yes." + +"And graceful?" + +"Yes." + +"Has she--pretty hair?" asked Catrina. + +"I think so--yes." + +"You are not observant," said the girl in a singularly even and +emotionless voice. "Perhaps you never noticed." + +"Not particularly," answered Paul. + +The girl raised her face. There was a painful smile twisting her lips. +The moonlight fell upon her; the deep shadows beneath the eyes made her +face wear a grin. Some have seen such a grin on the face of a drowning +man--a sight not to be forgotten. + +"Where does she live?" asked Catrina. She was unaware of the thought of +murder that was in her own heart. Nevertheless, the desire--indefinite, +shapeless--was there to kill this woman, who was tall and beautiful, +whom Paul Alexis loved. + +It must be remembered in extenuation that Catrina Lanovitch had lived +nearly all her life in the province of Tver. She was not modern at all. +Deprived of the advantages of our enlightened society press, without the +benefit of our decadent fictional literature, she had lamentably narrow +views of life. She was without that deep philosophy which teaches you, +mademoiselle, who read this guileless tale, that nothing matters very +much; that love is but a passing amusement, the plaything of an hour; +that if Tom is faithless, Dick is equally amusing; while Harry's taste +in gloves and compliments is worthy of some consideration. That these +things be true--that at all events the modern young lady thinks them +true--is a matter of no doubt whatever. Has not the modern lady novelist +told us so? And is not the modern lady novelist notable for her close +observation of human nature, her impartial judgment of human motives, +her sublime truth of delineation when she sits down to describe the +thing she calls a man? By a close study of the refined feminine +literature of the day the modern young lady acquires not only the +knowledge of some startling social delinquencies--retailed, not as if +they were quite the exception, but as if they were quite the correct +thing--but also she will learn that she is human. She will realize how +utterly absurd it is to attempt to be any thing else. If persons in +books, she will reflect, are not high-minded or pure-minded, or even +clean-minded, it is useless for an ordinary person out of a book to +attempt to be any of these. + +This is the lesson of some new writers, and Catrina Lanovitch had, +fortunately enough, lacked the opportunity of learning it. + +She only knew that she loved Paul, and that what she wanted was Paul's +love to go with her all through her life. She was not self-analytical, +nor subtle, nor given to thinking about her own thoughts. Perhaps she +was old-fashioned enough to be romantic. If this be so, we must bear +with her romance, remembering that, at all events, romance serves to +elevate, while realism tends undoubtedly toward deterioration. + +Catrina hated Etta Sydney Bamborough with a simple half-barbaric hatred +because she had gained the love of Paul Alexis. Etta had taken away from +her the only man whom Catrina could ever love all through her life. The +girl was simple enough, unsophisticated enough, never to dream of +compromise. She never for a moment entertained the cheap, consolatory +thought that in time she would get over it; she would marry somebody +else, and make that compromise which is responsible for more misery in +this world than ever is vice. In her great solitude, growing to +womanhood as she had in the vast forest of Tver, she had learned nearly +all that she knew from the best teacher, Nature; and she held the +strange, effete theory that it is wicked for a woman to marry a man she +does not love, or to marry at all for any reason except love. St. Paul +and a few others held like theories, but nous avons changé tout cela. + +"Where does she live?" asked Catrina. + +"In London." + +They walked on in silence for a few moments. They were walking slowly, +and they presently heard the footsteps of Karl Steinmetz and the servant +close behind them. + +"I wonder," said Catrina, half to herself, "whether she loves you?" + +It was a question, but not one that a man can answer. Paul said nothing, +but walked gravely on by the side of this woman, who knew that even if +Etta Sydney Bamborough should try she could never love him as she +herself did. + +When Karl Steinmetz joined them they were silent. + +"I suppose," he said in English, "that we may rely upon the discretion +of the Fraülein Catrina?" + +"Yes," answered the girl; "you may, so far as Osterno is concerned. But +I would rather that you did not visit our people here. It is too +dangerous in several ways." + +"Ah!" murmured Steinmetz, respectfully acquiescent. He was looking +straight in front of him, with an expression of countenance which was +almost dense. "Then we must bow to your decision," he went on, turning +toward the tall man striding along at his side. + +"Yes," said Paul simply. + +Steinmetz smiled grimly to himself. It was one of his half-cynical +theories that women hold the casting vote in all earthly matters, and +when an illustration such as this came to prove the correctness of his +deductions, he only smiled. He was not by nature a cynic--only by the +force of circumstances. + +"Will you come to the castle?" asked the girl at length, and Steinmetz +by a gesture deferred the decision to Paul. + +"I think not to-night, thanks," said the latter. "We will take you as +far as the gate." + +Catrina made no comment. When the tall gate-way was reached she stopped, +and they all became aware of the sound of horses' feet behind them. + +"What is this?" asked Catrina. + +"Only the starosta bringing our horses," replied Steinmetz. "He has +discovered nothing." + +Catrina nodded and held out her hand. + +"Good-night," she said, rather coldly. "Your secret is safe with me." + +"Set a thief to catch a thief," reflected Steinmetz. He said nothing, +however, when he shook hands. + +They mounted their horses and rode back the way they had come. For half +an hour no one spoke. Then Paul broke the silence. He only said one +word: + +"D--n." + +"Yes," returned Steinmetz quietly. "Charity is a dangerous plaything." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +A WIRE-PULLER + +The Palace of Industry--where, with a fine sense of the fitness of the +name, the Parisians amuse themselves--was in a blaze of electric light +and fashion. The occasion was the Concours Hippique, an ultra-equine +fête, where the lovers of the friend of man, and such persons as are +fitted by an ungenerous fate with limbs suitable to horsey clothes, meet +and bow. In France, as in a neighboring land (less sunny), horsiness is +the last refuge of the diminutive. It is your small man who is ever the +horsiest in his outward appearance, just as it is your very plain young +person who is keenest at the Sunday-school class. + +When a Frenchman is horsey he never runs the risk of being mistaken for +a groom or a jockey, as do his turfy compeers in England. His costume is +so exaggeratedly suggestive of the stable and the horse as to leave no +doubt whatever that he is an amateur of the most pronounced type. His +collar is so white and stiff and portentous as to make it impossible for +him to tighten up his own girths. His breeches are so breechy about the +knees as to render an ascent to the saddle a feat which it is not +prudent to attempt without assistance. His gloves are so large and seamy +as to make it extremely difficult to grasp the bridle, and quite +impossible to buckle a strap. Your French horseman is, in fact, rather +like a knight of old, inasmuch as his attendants are required to set him +on his horse with his face turned in the right direction, his bridle in +his left hand, his whip in his right, and, it is to be supposed, his +heart in his mouth. When he is once up there, however, the gallant son +of Gaul can teach even some of us, my fox-hunting masters, the way to +sit a horse! + +We have, however, little to do with such matters here, except in so far +as they affect the persons connected with this record. The Concours +Hippique, be it therefore known, was at its height. Great deeds of +horsemanship had been successfully accomplished. The fair had smiled +beneath pencilled eyebrows upon the brave in uniform and breeches. At +the time when we join the fashionable throng, the fair are smiling their +brightest. It is, in fact, an interval for refreshment. + +A crowd of well-dressed men jostled each other good-naturedly around a +long table, where insolent waiters served tepid coffee, and sandwiches +that had been cut by the hand of a knave. In the background a number of +ladies nodded encouragement to their cavaliers in the intervals of +scrutinizing each other's dresses. Many pencilled eyebrows were raised +in derision of too little style displayed by some innocent rival, or +brought down in disapproval of too much of the same vague quality +displayed by one less innocent. + +In the midst of these, as in his element, moved the Baron Claude de +Chauxville, smiling his courteous, ready smile, which his enemies called +a grin. He took up less room than the majority of the men around him; he +succeeded in passing through narrower places, and jostled fewer people. +In a word, he proved to his own satisfaction, and to the discomfiture of +many a younger man, his proficiency in the gentle art of getting on in +the world. + +Not far from him stood a stout gentleman of middle age, with a heavy +fair mustache brushed upward on either side. This man had an air of +distinction which was notable even in this assembly; for there were many +distinguished people present, and a Frenchman of note plays his part +better than do we dull, self-conscious islanders. This man looked like a +general, so upright was he, so keen his glance, so independent the +carriage of his head. + +He stood with his hands behind his back, looking gravely on at the +social festivity. He bowed and raised his hat to many, but he entered +into conversation with none. + +"Ce Vassili," he heard more than once whispered, "c'est un homme +dangereux." + +And he smiled all the more pleasantly. + +Now, if a very keen observer had taken the trouble to ignore the throng +and watch two persons only, that observer might have discovered the fact +that Claude de Chauxville was slowly and purposely making his way toward +the man called Vassili. + +De Chauxville knew and was known of many. He had but recently arrived +from London. He found himself called upon to shake hands à l'anglais +with this one and that, giving all and sundry his impressions of the +perfidious Albion with a verve and neatness truly French. He went from +one to the other with perfect grace and savoir-faire, and each change of +position brought him nearer to the middle-aged man with upturned +mustache, upon whom his movements were by no means lost. + +Finally De Chauxville bumped against the object of his quest--possibly, +indeed, the object of his presence at the Concours Hippique. He turned +with a ready apology. + +"Ah!" he exclaimed; "the very man I was desiring to see." + +The individual known as "ce Vassili"--a term of mingled contempt and +distrust--bowed very low. He was a plain commoner, while his +interlocutor was a baron. The knowledge of this was subtly conveyed in +his bow. + +"How can I serve M. le Baron?" he enquired in a voice which was +naturally loud and strong, but had been reduced by careful training to a +tone inaudible at the distance of a few paces. + +"By following me to the Café Tantale in ten minutes," answered De +Chauxville, passing on to greet a lady who was bowing to him with the +labored grace of a Parisienne. + +Vassili merely bowed and stood upright again. There was something in his +attitude of quiet attention, of unobtrusive scrutiny and retiring +intelligence, vaguely suggestive of the police--something which his +friends refrained from mentioning to him; for this Vassili was a +dignified man, of like susceptibilities with ourselves, and justly proud +of the fact that he belonged to the Corps Diplomatique. What position he +occupied in that select corporation he never vouchsafed to define. But +it was known that he enjoyed considerable emoluments, while he was never +called upon to represent his country or his emperor in any official +capacity. He was attached, he said, to the Russian Embassy. His enemies +called him a spy; but the world never puts a charitable construction on +that of which it only has a partial knowledge. + +In ten minutes Claude de Chauxville left the Concours Hippique. In the +Champs Elysées he turned to the left, up toward the Bois du Boulogne; +turned to the left again, and took one of the smaller paths that lead to +one or other of the sequestered and somewhat select cafés on the south +side of the Champs Elysées. + +At the Café Tantale--not in the garden, for it was winter, but in the +inner room--he found the man called Vassili consuming a pensive and +solitary glass of liqueur. + +De Chauxville sat down, stated his requirements to the waiter in a +single word, and offered his companion a cigarette, which Vassili +accepted with the consciousness that it came from a coroneted case. + +"I am rather thinking of visiting Russia," said the Frenchman. + +"Again," added Vassili, in his quiet voice. + +De Chauxville looked up sharply, smiled, and waved the word away with a +gesture of the fingers that held a cigarette. + +"If you will--again." + +"On private affairs?" enquired Vassili, not so much, it would appear, +from curiosity as from habit. He put the question with the assurance of +one who has a right to know. + +De Chauxville nodded acquiescence through the tobacco smoke. + +"The bane of public men--private affairs," he said epigrammatically. + +But the attaché to the Russian Embassy was either too dense or too +clever to be moved to a sympathetic smile by a cheap epigram. + +"And M. le Baron wants a passport?" he said, lapsing into the useful +third person, which makes the French language so much more fitted to +social and diplomatic purposes than is our rough northern tongue. + +"And more," answered De Chauxville. "I want what you hate parting +with--information." + +The man called Vassili leaned back in his chair with a little smile. It +was an odd little smile, which fell over his features like a mask and +completely hid his thoughts. It was apparent that Claude de Chauxville's +tricks of speech and manner fell here on barren ground. The Frenchman's +epigrams, his method of conveying his meaning in a non-committing and +impersonal generality, failed to impress this hearer. The difference +between a Frenchman and a Russian is that the former is amenable to +every outward influence--the outer thing penetrates. The Russian, on the +contrary, is a man who works his thoughts, as it were, from internal +generation to external action. The action, moreover, is demonstrative, +which makes the Russian different from other northern nations of an +older civilization and a completer self-control. + +"Then," said Vassili, "if I understand M. le Baron aright, it is a +question of private and personal affairs that suggests this journey +to--Russia?" + +"Precisely." + +"In no sense a mission?" suggested the other, sipping his liqueur +thoughtfully. + +"In no sense a mission. I give you a proof. I have been granted six +months' leave of absence, as you probably know." + +"Precisely so, mo' cher Baron." Vassili had a habit of applying to every +one the endearing epithet, which lost a consonant somewhere in his +mustache. "When a military officer is granted a six months' leave, it is +exactly then that we watch him." + +De Chauxville shrugged his shoulders in deprecation, possibly with +contempt for any system of watching. + +"May one call it an affaire de coeur?" asked Vassili, with his grim +smile. + +"Certainly. Are not all private affairs such, one way or the other?" + +"And you want a passport?" + +"Yes--a special one." + +"I will see what I can do." + +"Thank you." + +Vassili emptied his glass, drew in his feet, and glanced at the clock. + +"But that is not all I want," said De Chauxville. + +"So I perceive." + +"I want you to tell me what you know of Prince Pavlo Alexis." + +"Of Tver?" + +"Of Tver. What you know from your point of view, you understand, my dear +Vassili. Nothing political, nothing incriminating, nothing official. I +only want a few social details." + +Again the odd smile fell over the dignified face. + +"In case," said Vassili, rather slowly, "I should only impart to you +stale news and valueless details with which you are already acquainted, +I must ask you to tell me first what you know--from your point of view." + +"Certainly," answered De Chauxville, with engaging frankness. "The man I +know slightly is the sort of thing that Eton and Oxford turn out by the +dozen. Well dressed, athletic, silent, a thorough gentleman--et voilà +tout." + +The face of Vassili expressed something remarkably like disbelief. + +"Ye--es," he said slowly. + +"And you?" suggested De Chauxville. + +"You leave too much to my imagination," said Vassili. "You relate mere +facts--have you no suppositions, no questions in your mind about the +man?" + +"I want to know what his purpose in life may be. There is a purpose--one +sees it in his face. I want also to know what he does with his spare +time; he must have much to dispose of in England." + +Vassili nodded, and suddenly launched into detail. + +"Prince Pavlo Alexis," he said, "is a young man who takes a full and +daring advantage of his peculiar position. He defies many laws in a +quiet, persistent way which impresses the smaller authorities and to a +certain extent paralyzes them. He was in the Charity League--deeply +implicated. He had a narrow escape. He was pulled through by the +cleverest man in Russia." + +"Karl Steinmetz?" + +"Yes," answered Vassili behind the rigid smile; "Karl Steinmetz." + +"And that," said De Chauxville, watching the face of his companion, "is +all you can tell me?" + +"To be quite frank with you," replied the man who had never been quite +frank in his life, "that is all I want to tell you." + +De Chauxville lighted a cigarette, with exaggerated interest in the +match. + +"Paul is a friend of mine," he said calmly. "I may be staying at Osterno +with him." + +The rigid smile never relaxed. + +"Not with Karl Steinmetz on the premises," said Vassili imperturbably. + +"The astute Mr. Steinmetz may be removed to some other sphere of +usefulness. There is a new spoke in his Teutonic wheel." + +"Ah!" + +"Prince Paul is about to marry--the widow of Sydney Bamborough." + +"Sydney Bamborough," repeated Vassili musingly, with a perfect +expression of innocence on his well-cut face. "I have heard that name +before." + +De Chauxville laughed quietly, as if in appreciation of a pretty trick +which he knew as well as its performer. + +"She is a friend of mine." + +The attaché, as he was pleased to call himself, to the Russian Embassy, +leant his arms on the table, bending forward and bringing his large, +fleshy face within a few inches of De Chauxville's keen countenance. + +"That makes all the difference," he said. + +"I thought it would," answered De Chauxville, meeting the steady gaze +firmly. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +IN A WINTER CITY + +St. Petersburg under snow is the most picturesque city in the world. The +town is at its best when a high wind has come from the north to blow all +the snow from the cupola of St. Isaac's, leaving that golden dome, in +all its brilliancy, to gleam and flash over the whitened sepulchre of a +city. + +In winter the Neva is a broad, silent thoroughfare between the Vassili +Ostrow and the Admiralty Gardens. In the winter the pestilential rattle +of the cobble-stones in the side streets is at last silent, and the +merry music of sleigh-bells takes its place. In the winter the +depressing damp of this northern Venice is crystallized and harmless. + +On the English Quay a tall, narrow house stands looking glumly across +the river. It is a suspected house, and watched; for here dwelt Stépan +Lanovitch, secretary and organizer of the Charity League. + +Although the outward appearance of the house is uninviting, the interior +is warm and dainty. The odor of delicate hot-house plants is in the +slightly enervating atmosphere of the apartments. It is a Russian fancy +to fill the dwelling-rooms with delicate, forced foliage and bloom. In +no country of the world are flowers so worshipped, is money so freely +spent in floral decoration. There is something in the sight, and more +especially in the scent of hot-house plants, that appeals to the complex +siftings of three races which constitute a modern Russian. + +We, in the modest self-depreciation which is a national characteristic, +are in the habit of thinking, and sometimes saying, that we have all the +good points of the Angle and the Saxon rolled satisfactorily into one +Anglo-Saxon whole. We are of the opinion that mixed races are the best, +and we leave it to be understood that ours is the only satisfactory +combination. Most of us ignore the fact that there are others at all, +and very few indeed recognize the fact that the Russian of to-day is +essentially a modern outcome of a triple racial alliance of which the +best component is the Tartar. + +The modern Russian is an interesting study, because he has the remnant +of barbaric tastes, with ultra-civilized facilities for gratifying the +same. The best part of him comes from the East, the worst from Paris. + +The Countess Lanovitch belonged to the school existing in Petersburg and +Moscow in the early years of the century--the school that did not speak +Russian but only French, that chose to class the peasants with the +beasts of the field, that apparently expected the deluge to follow soon. + +Her drawing-room, looking out on to the Neva, was characteristic of +herself. Camellias held the floral honors in vase and pot. The French +novel ruled supreme on the side-table. The room was too hot, the chairs +were too soft, the moral atmosphere too lax. One could tell that this +was the dwelling-room of a lazy, self-indulgent, and probably ignorant +woman. + +The countess herself in nowise contradicted this conclusion. She was +seated on a very low chair, exposing a slippered foot to the flame of a +wood fire. She held a magazine in her hand, and yawned as she turned its +pages. She was not so stout in person as her loose and somewhat highly +colored cheeks would imply. Her eyes were dull and sleepy. The woman was +an incarnate yawn. + +She looked up, turning lazily in her chair, to note the darkening of the +air without the double windows. + +"Ah!" she said aloud to herself in French, "when will it be tea-time?" + +As she spoke the words, the bells of a sleigh suddenly stopped with a +rattle beneath the window. + +Immediately the countess rose and went to the mirror over the +mantel-piece. She arranged without enthusiasm her straggling hair, and +put straight a lace cap which was chronically crooked. She looked at her +reflection pessimistically, as well she might. It was the puffy red face +of a middle-aged woman given to petty self-indulgence. + +"While she was engaged in this discouraging pastime the door was opened, +and a maid came in with the air of one who has gained a trifling +advantage by the simple method of peeping. + +"It is M. Steinmetz, Mme. la Comtesse." + +"Ah! Do I look horrible, Célestine? I have been asleep." + +Célestine was French, and laughed with all the charm of that tactful +nation. + +"How can Mme. la Comtesse ask such a thing? Madame might be +thirty-five!" + +It is to be supposed that the staff of angelic recorders have a separate +set of ledgers for French people, with special discounts attaching to +pleasant lies. + +Madame shook her head--and believed. + +"M. Steinmetz is even now taking off his furs in the hall," said +Célestine, retiring toward the door. + +"It is well. We shall want tea." + +Steinmetz came into the room with an exaggerated bow and a twinkle in +his melancholy eyes. + +"Figure to yourself, my dear Steinmetz," said the countess vivaciously. +"Catrina has gone out--on a day like this! Mon Dieu! How gray, how +melancholy!" + +"Without, yes! But here, how different!" replied Steinmetz in French. + +The countess cackled and pointed to a chair. + +"Ah! you always flatter. What news have you, bad character?" + +Steinmetz smiled pensively, not so much suggesting the desire to impart +as the intention to withhold that which the lady called news. + +"I came for yours, countess. You are always amusing--as well as +beautiful," he added, with his mouth well controlled beneath the heavy +mustache. + +The countess shook her head playfully, which had the effect of tilting +her cap to one side. + +"I! Oh, I have nothing to tell you. I am a nun. What can one do--what +can one hear in Petersburg? Now in Paris it is different. But Catrina is +so firm. Have you ever noticed that, Steinmetz? Catrina's firmness, I +mean. She wills a thing, and her will is like a rock. The thing has to +be done. It does itself. It comes to pass. Some people are so. Now I, my +clear Steinmetz, only desire peace and quiet. So I give in. I gave in to +poor Stépan. And now he is exiled. Perhaps if I had been firm--if I had +forbidden all this nonsense about charity--it would have been different. +And Stépan would have been quietly at home instead of in Tomsk, is it, +or Tobolsk? I always forget which. Well, Catrina says we must live in +Petersburg this winter, and--nous voilà!" + +Steinmetz shrugged his shoulders with a commiserating smile. He took the +countess's troubles indifferently, as do the rest of us when our +neighbor's burden does not drag upon our own shoulders. It suited him +that Catrina should be in Petersburg, and it is to be feared that the +feelings of the Countess Lanovitch had no weight as against the +convenience of Karl Steinmetz. + +"Ah, well!" he said, "you must console yourself with the thought that +Petersburg is the brighter for some of us. Who is this--another +visitor?" + +The door was thrown open, and Claude de Chauxville walked into the room +with the easy grace which was his. + +"Mme. la Comtesse," he said, bowing over her hand. + +Then he stood upright, and the two men smiled grimly at each other. +Steinmetz had thought that De Chauxville was in London. The Frenchman +counted on the other's duties to retain him in Osterno. + +"Pleasure!" said De Chauxville, shaking hands. + +"It is mine," answered Steinmetz. + +The countess looked from one to the other with a smile on her foolish +face. + +"Ah!" she exclaimed; "how pleasant it is to meet old friends! It is like +by-gone times." + +At this moment the door opened again and Catrina came in. In her rich +furs she looked almost pretty. + +She shook hands eagerly with Steinmetz; her deep eyes searched his face +with a singular, breathless scrutiny. + +"Where are you from?" she asked quickly. + +"London." + +"Catrina," broke in the countess, "you do not remember M. de Chauxville! +He nursed you when you were a child." + +Catrina turned and bowed to De Chauxville. + +"I should have remembered you," he said, "if we had met accidentally. +After all, childhood is but a miniature--is it not so?" + +"Perhaps," answered Catrina; "and when the miniature develops it loses +the delicacy which was its chief charm." + +She turned again to Steinmetz, as if desirous of continuing her +conversation with him. + +"M. de Chauxville, you surely have news?" broke in the countess's +cackling voice. "I have begged M. Steinmetz in vain. He says he has +none; but is one to believe so notorious a bad character?" + +"Madame, it is wise to believe only that which is convenient. But +Steinmetz, I promise you, is the soul of honor. What sort of news do you +crave for? Political, which is dangerous; social, which is scandalous; +or court news, which is invariably false?" + +"Let us have scandal, then." + +"Ah! I must refer you to the soul of honor." + +"Who," answered Steinmetz, "in that official capacity is necessarily +deaf, and in a private capacity is naturally dull." + +He was looking very hard at De Chauxville, as if he was attempting to +make him understand something which he could not say aloud. De +Chauxville, from carelessness or natural perversity, chose to ignore the +persistent eyes. + +"Surely the news is from London," he said lightly; "we have nothing from +Paris." + +He glanced at Steinmetz, who was frowning. + +"I can hardly tell you stale news that comes from London via Paris, can +I?" he continued. + +Steinmetz was tapping impatiently on the floor with his broad boot. + +"About whom--about whom?" cried the countess, clapping her soft hands +together. + +"Well, about Prince Paul," said De Chauxville, looking at Steinmetz with +airy defiance. + +Steinmetz moved a little. He placed himself in front of Catrina, who had +suddenly lost color. She could only see his broad back. The others in +the room could not see her at all. She was rather small, and Steinmetz +hid her as behind a screen. + +"Ah!" he said to the countess, "his marriage! But Madame the Countess +assuredly knows of that." + +"How could she?" put in De Chauxville. + +"The countess knew that Prince Paul was going to be married," explained +Karl Steinmetz very slowly, as if he wished to give some one time. "With +such a man as he, 'going to be' is not very far from being." + +"Then it is an accomplished fact?" said the countess sharply. + +"Yesterday," answered Steinmetz. + +"And you were not there!" exclaimed Countess Lanovitch, with uplifted +hands. + +"Since I was here," answered Steinmetz. + +The countess launched into a disquisition on the heinousness of marrying +any but a compatriot. The tone of her voice was sharp, and the volume of +her words almost amounted to invective. As Steinmetz was obviously not +listening, the lady imparted her views to the Baron de Chauxville. + +Steinmetz waited for some time, then he turned slowly toward Catrina +without actually looking at her. + +"It is dangerous," he said, "to stay in this warm room with your furs." + +"Yes," she answered, rather faintly; "I will go and take them off." + +Steinmetz held the door open for her, but he did not look at her. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +THE THIN END + +"But I confess I cannot understand why I should not be called the +Princess Alexis--there is nothing to be ashamed of in the title. I +presume you have a right to it?" + +Etta looked up from her occupation of fixing a bracelet, with a little +glance of enquiry toward her husband. + +They had been married a month. The honeymoon--a short one--had been +passed in the house of a friend, indeed a relation of Etta's own, a +Scotch peer who was not above lending a shooting-lodge in Scotland on +the tacit understanding that there should be some quid pro quo in the +future. + +In answer Paul merely smiled, affectionately tolerant of her bright +sharpness of manner. Your bright woman in society is apt to be keen at +home. What is called vivacity abroad may easily degenerate into +snappiness by the hearth. + +"I think it is rather ridiculous being called plain Mrs. Howard-Alexis," +added Etta, with a pout. + +They were going to a ball--the first since their marriage. They had just +dined, and Paul had followed his wife into the drawing-room. He took a +simple-minded delight in her beauty, which was of the description that +is at its best in a gorgeous setting. He stood looking at her, noting +her grace, her pretty, studied movements. There were, he reflected, few +women more beautiful--none, in his own estimation, fit to compare with +her. + +She had hitherto been sweetness itself to him, enlivening his lonely +existence, shining suddenly upon his self-contained nature with a +brilliancy that made him feel dull and tongue-tied. + +Already, however, he was beginning to discover certain small +differences, not so much of opinion as of thought, between Etta and +himself. She attached an importance to social function, to social +opinion, to social duties, which he in no wise understood. Invitations +were showered upon them. A man who is a prince and prefers to drop the +title need not seek popularity in London. The very respectable reader +probably knows as well as his humble servant, the writer, that in London +there is always a social circle just a little lower than one's own which +opens its doors with noble, disinterested hospitality, and is prepared +to lick the blacking from any famous foot. + +These invitations Etta accepted eagerly. Some women hold it little short +of a crime to refuse an invitation, and go through life regretting that +there is only one evening to each day. To Paul these calls were nothing +new. His secretary had hitherto drawn a handsome salary for doing little +more than refuse such. + +It was in Etta's nature to be somewhat carried away by glitter. A great +ball-room, brilliant illumination, music, flowers, and diamonds had an +effect upon her which she enjoyed in anticipation. Her eyes gleamed +brightly on reading the mere card of invitation. Some dull and +self-contained men are only to be roused by the clatter and whirl of a +battle-field, and this stirs them into brilliancy, changing them to new +men. Etta, always brilliant, always bright, exceeded herself on her +battle-field--a great social function. + +Since their marriage she had never been so beautiful, her eyes had never +been so sparkling, her color so brilliant as at this moment when she +asked her husband to let her use her title. Hers was the beauty that +blooms not for one man alone, but for the multitude; that feeds not on +the love of one, but on the admiration of many. The murmur of the man in +the street who turned and stared into her carriage was more than the +devotion of her husband. + +"A foreign title," answered Paul, "is nothing in England. I soon found +that out at Eton and at Trinity. It was impossible there. I dropped it, +and I have never taken it up again." + +"Yes, you old stupid, and you have never taken the place you are +entitled to, in consequence." + +"What place? May I button that?" + +"Thanks." + +She held out her arm while he, with fingers much too large for such +dainty work, buttoned her glove. + +"The place in society," she answered. + +"Oh; does that matter? I never thought of it." + +"Of course it matters," answered the lady, with an astonished little +laugh. (It is wonderful what an importance we attach to that which has +been dearly won.) "Of course it matters," answered Etta; "more +than--well, more than any thing." + +"But the position that depends upon a foreign title cannot be of much +value," said the pupil of Karl Steinmetz. + +Etta shook her pretty head reflectively. + +"Of course," she answered, "money makes a position of its own, and +every-body knows that you are a prince; but it would be nicer, with the +servants and every-body, to be a princess." + +"I am afraid I cannot do it," said Paul. + +"Then there is some reason for it," answered his wife, looking at him +sharply. + +"Yes, there is." + +"Ah!" + +"The reason is the responsibility that attaches to the very title you +wish to wear." + +The lady smiled, a little scornfully perhaps. + +"Oh! Your grubby old peasants, I suppose," she said. + +"Yes. You remember, Etta, what I told you before we were married--about +the people, I mean?" + +"Oh, yes!" answered Etta, glancing at the clock and hiding a little yawn +behind her fan. + +"I did not tell you all," went on Paul, "partly because it was +inexpedient, partly because I feared it might bore you. I only told you +that I was vaguely interested in the peasants, and thought it would be a +good thing if they could be gradually educated into a greater +self-respect, a greater regard for cleanliness and that sort of thing." + +"Yes, dear, I remember," answered Etta, listlessly contemplating her +gloved hands. + +"Well, I have not contented myself with thinking this during the last +two or three years. I have tried to put it into practice. Steinmetz and +I have lived at Osterno six months of the year on purpose to organize +matters on the estate. I was deeply implicated in the--Charity League--" + +Etta dropped her fan with a clatter into the fender. + +"Oh! I hope it is not broken," she gasped, with a singular +breathlessness. + +"I do not think so," replied Paul, picking up the fan and returning it +to her. "Why, you look quite white! What does it matter if it is broken? +You have others." + +"Yes, but--" Etta paused, opening the fan and examining the sticks so +closely that her face was hidden by the feathers. "Yes, but I like this +one. What is the Charity League, dear?" + +"It was a large organization gotten up by the hereditary nobles of +Russia to educate the people and better their circumstances by +discriminate charity. Of course it had to be kept secret, as the +bureaucracy is against any attempt to civilize the people--against +education or the dissemination of news. The thing was organized. We were +just getting to work when some one stole the papers of the League from +the house of Count Stépan Lanovitch and sold them to the Government. The +whole thing was broken up; Lanovitch and others were exiled, I bolted +home, and Steinmetz faced the storm alone in Osterno. He was too clever +for them, and nothing was brought home to us. But you will understand +that it is necessary for us to avoid any notoriety, to live as quietly +and privately as possible." + +"Yes, of course; but--" + +"But what?" + +"You can never go back to Russia," said Etta slowly, feeling her ground, +as it were. + +"Oh, yes, I can. I was just coming to that. I want to go back this +winter. There is so much to be done. And I want you to come with me." + +"No, Paul. No, no! I couldn't do that!" cried Etta, with a ring of +horror in her voice, strangely out of keeping with her peaceful and +luxurious surroundings. + +"Why not?" asked the man who had never known fear. + +"Oh, I should be afraid. I couldn't. I hate Russia!" + +"But you don't know it." + +"No," answered Etta, turning away and busying herself with her long +silken train. "No, of course not. Only Petersburg, I mean. But I have +heard what it is. So cold and dismal and miserable. I feel the cold so +horribly. I wanted to go to the Riviera this winter. I really think, +Paul, you are asking me too much." + +"I am only asking a proof that you care for me." + +Etta gave a little laugh--a nervous laugh with no mirth in it. + +"A proof! But that is so bourgeois and unnecessary. Haven't you proof +enough, since I am your wife?" + +Paul looked at her without any sign of yielding. His attitude, his whole +being, was expressive of that immovability of purpose which had hitherto +been concealed from her by his quiet manner. Steinmetz knew of the +mental barrier within this Anglo-Russian soul, against which prayer and +argument were alike unavailing. The German had run against it once or +twice in the course of their joint labors, and had invariably given way +at once. + +Etta looked at him. The color was coming back to her face in patches. +There was something unsteady in her eyes--something suggesting that for +the first time in her life she was daunted by a man. It was not Paul's +speech, but his silence that alarmed her. She felt that trivial +arguments, small feminine reasons, were without weight. + +"Now that you are married," she said, "I do not think you have any right +to risk your life and your position for a fad." + +"I have done it with impunity for the last two or three years," he +answered. "With ordinary precautions the risk is small. I have begun the +thing now; I must go on with it." + +"But the country is not safe for us--for you." + +"Oh, yes, it is," answered Paul. "As safe as ever it has been." + +Etta paused. She turned round and looked into the fire. He could not see +her face. + +"Then the Ch--Charity League is forgotten?" she said. + +"No," answered her husband quietly. "It will not be forgotten until we +have found out who sold us to the Government." + +Etta's lips moved in a singular way. She drew them in and held them with +her teeth. For a moment her beautiful face wore a hunted expression of +fear. + +"What will you gain by that?" she asked evenly. + +"I? Oh, nothing. I do not care one way or the other. But there are some +people who want the man--very much." + +Etta drew in a long, deep breath. + +"I will go to Osterno with you, if you like," she said. "Only--only I +must have Maggie with me." + +"Yes, if you like," answered Paul, in some surprise. + +The clock struck ten, and Etta's eyes recovered their brightness. +Womanlike, she lived for the present. The responsibility of the future +is essentially a man's affair. The present contained a ball, and it was +only in the future that Osterno and Russia had to be faced. Let us also +give Etta Alexis her due. She was almost fearless. It is permissible to +the bravest to be startled. She was now quite collected. The even, +delicate color had returned to her face. + +"Maggie is such a splendid companion," she said lightly. "She is so easy +to please. I think she would come if you asked her, Paul." + +"If you want her, I shall ask her, of course; but it may hinder us a +little. I thought you might be able to help us--with the women, you +know." + +There was a queer little smile on Etta's face--a smile, one might have +thought, of contempt. + +"Yes, of course," she said. "It is so nice to be able to do good with +one's money." + +Paul looked at her in his slow, grave way, but he said nothing. He knew +that his wife was cleverer and brighter than himself. He was simple +enough to think that this superiority of intellect might be devoted to +the good of the peasants of Osterno. + +"It is not a bad place," he said--"a very fine castle, one of the finest +in Europe. Before I came away I gave orders for your rooms to be done +up. I should like every thing to be nice for you." + +"I know you would, dear," she answered, glancing at the clock. (The +carriage was ordered for a quarter-past ten.) "But I suppose," she went +on, "that, socially speaking, we shall be rather isolated. Our neighbors +are few and far between." + +"The nearest," said Paul quietly, "are the Lanovitches." + +"_Who_?" + +"The Lanovitches. Do you know them?" + +"Of course not," answered Etta sharply. "But I seem to know the name. +Were there any in St. Petersburg?" + +"The same people," answered Paul; "Count Stépan Lanovitch." + +Etta was looking at her husband with her bright smile. It was a little +too bright, perhaps. Her eyes had a gleam in them. She was conscious of +being beautifully dressed, conscious of her own matchless beauty, almost +dauntless, like a very strong man armed. + +"Well, I think I am a model wife," she said: "to give in meekly to your +tyranny; to go and bury myself in the heart of Russia in the middle of +winter--By the way, we must buy some furs; that will be rather exciting. +But you must not expect me to be very intimate with your Russian +friends. I am not quite sure that I like Russians"--she went toward him, +laying her two hands gently on his broad breast and looking up at +him--"not quite sure--especially Russian princes who bully their wives. +You may kiss me, however, but be very careful. Now I must go and finish +dressing. We shall be late as it is." + +She gathered together her fan and gloves, for she had petulantly dragged +off a pair which did not fit. + +"And you will ask Maggie to come with us?" she said. + +He held open the door for her to pass out, gravely polite even to his +wife--this old-fashioned man. + +"Yes," he answered; "but why do you want me to ask her?" + +"Because I want her to come." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +CHARITY + +In these democratic days a very democratic theory has exploded. Not so +very long ago we believed, or made semblance of belief, that it is +useless to put a high price upon a ticket with the object of securing +that selectness for which the high-born crave. "If they want to come," +Lady Champignon (wife of Alderman Champignon) would say, "they do not +mind paying the extra half-guinea." + +But Lady Champignon was wrong. It is not that the self-made man cannot +or will not pay two guineas for a ball-ticket. It is merely that, in his +commercial way, he thinks that he will not have his money's worth, and +therefore prefers keeping his two guineas to spend on something more +tangible--say food. The nouveau riche never quite purges his mind of the +instinct commercial, and it therefore goes against the grain to pay +heavily for a form of entertainment which his soul had not the +opportunity of learning to love in its youth. The aristocrat, on the +other hand, has usually been brought up to the cultivation of enjoyment, +and he therefore spends with perfect equanimity more on his pleasure +than the bourgeois mind can countenance. + +The ball to which Paul and Etta were going was managed by some titled +ladies who knew their business well. The price of the tickets was +fabulous. The lady patronesses of the great Charity Ball were tactful +and unabashed. They drew the necessary line (never more necessary than +it is to-day) with a firm hand. + +The success of the ball was therefore a foregone conclusion. In French +fiction there is invariably a murmur of applause when the heroine enters +a room full of people, which fact serves, at all events, to show the +breeding and social status of persons with whom French novelists are in +the habit of associating. There was therefore no applause when Paul and +Etta made their appearance, but that lady had, nevertheless, the +satisfaction of perceiving glances, not only of admiration, but of +interest and even of disapproval, among her own sex. Her dress she knew +to be perfect, and when she perceived the craning pale face of the +inevitable lady-journalist, peering between the balusters of a gallery, +she thoughtfully took up a prominent position immediately beneath that +gallery, and slowly turned round like a beautifully garnished joint +before the fire of cheap publicity. + +To Paul this ball was much like others. There were a number of the +friends of his youth--tall, clean-featured, clean-limbed men, with a +tendency toward length and spareness--who greeted him almost +affectionately. Some of them introduced him to their wives and sisters, +which ladies duly set him down as nice but dull--a form of faint praise +which failed to damn. There were a number of ladies to whom it was +necessary for him to bow in acknowledgment of past favors which had +missed their mark. From the gallery the washed-out female journalists +poked out their eager faces--for they were women still, and liked to +look upon a man when he was strong. + +And all the while Karl Steinmetz was storming in his guttural English at +the door, upbraiding hired waiters for their stupidity in accepting two +literal facts literally. The one fact was that they were forbidden to +admit any one without a ticket; the second fact being that tickets were +not to be obtained at the price of either one or the other of the two +great motives of man--Love or Money. + +Steinmetz was Teutonic and imposing, with the ribbon of a great Order on +his breast. He mentioned the names of several ladies who might have +been, but were not, of the committee. Finally, however, he mentioned the +historic name of one whose husband had braved more than one Russian +emperor successfully for England. + +"Yes, me lord, her ladyship's here," answered the man. + +Steinmetz wrote on a card, "In memory of '56, let me in," and sent in +the missive. + +A few minutes later a stout, smiling lady came toward him with +outstretched hand. + +"What mischief are you about?" she enquired, "you stormy petrel! This is +no place for your deep-laid machinations. We are here to enjoy ourselves +and found a hospital. Come in, however. I am delighted to see you. You +used to be a famous dancer--well, some little time ago." + +"Yes, my dear countess, let us say some little time ago. Ach, those were +days! those were days! You do not mind the liberty I have taken?" + +"I am glad you took it. But your card gave me a little tug at the heart. +It brought back so much. And still plain Karl Steinmetz--after all. We +used to think much of you in the old days. Who would have thought that +all the honors would have slipped past you?" + +Steinmetz shrugged his shoulders with a heart-whole laugh. + +"Ah, what matter? Who cares, so long as my old friends remember me? Who +would have thought, my dear madam, that the map of Europe would have +been painted the colors it is to-day? It was a kaleidoscope--the clatter +of many stools, and I fell down between them all. Still plain Karl +Steinmetz--still very much at your service. Shall I send my check for +five guineas to you?" + +"Yes, do; I am secretary. Always businesslike; a wonderful man you are +still." + +"And you, my dear countess, a wonderful lady. Always gay, always +courageous. I have heard and sympathized. I have heard of many blows and +wounds that you have received in the battle we began--well, some little +time ago." + +"Ah, don't mention them! They hurt none the less because we cover them +with a smile, eh? I dare say you know. You have been in the thick of the +fight yourself. But you did not come here to chat with me, though your +manner might lead one to think so. I will not keep you." + +"I came to see Prince Pavlo," answered Steinmetz. "I must thank you for +enabling me to do so. I may not see you again this evening. My best +thanks, my very dear lady." + +He bowed, and with his half-humorous, half-melancholy smile, left her. + +The first face he recognized was a pretty one. Miss Maggie Delafield was +just turning away from a partner who was taking his congé, when she +looked across the room and saw Steinmetz. He had only met her once, +barely exchanging six words with her, and her frank, friendly bow was +rather a surprise to him. She came toward him, holding out her hand with +an open friendliness which this young lady was in the habit of bestowing +upon men and women impartially--upon persons of either sex who happened +to meet with her approval. She did not know what made her incline to +like this man, neither did she seek to know. In a quiet, British way +Miss Delafield was a creature of impulse. Her likes and dislikes were a +matter of instinct, and, much as one respects the doctrine of charity, +it is a question whether an instinctive dislike should be quashed by an +exaggerated sense of neighborly duty. Steinmetz she liked, and there was +an end to it. + +"I was afraid you did not recognize me," she said. + +"My life has not so many pleasures that I can afford to forget one of +them," replied Steinmetz, in his somewhat old-fashioned courtesy. "But +an old--buffer, shall I say?--hardly expects to be taken much notice of +by young ladies at a ball." + +"It is not ten minutes since Paul assured me that you were the best +dancer that Vienna ever produced," said the girl, looking at him with +bright, honest eyes. + +Karl Steinmetz looked down at her, for he was a tall man when Paul +Alexis was not near. His quiet gray eyes were almost affectionate. There +was a sudden sympathy between these two, and sudden sympathies are the +best. + +"Will you give an old man a trial?" he asked. "They will laugh at you." + +She handed him her programme. + +"Let them laugh!" she said. + +He took the next dance, which happened to be vacant on her card. Almost +immediately the music began, and they glided off together. Maggie began +with the feeling that she was dancing with her own father, but this wore +off before they had made much progress through the crowd, and gave way +to the sensation that she had for partner the best dancer she had ever +met, gray-haired, stout, and middle-aged. + +"I wanted to speak to you," she said. + +"Ah!" Steinmetz answered. He was steering with infinite skill. In that +room full of dancers no one touched Maggie's elbow or the swing of her +dress, and she, who knew what such things meant, smiled as she noted it. + +"I have been asked to go and stay at Osterno," she said. "Shall I go?" + +"By whom?" + +"By Paul." + +"Then go," said Steinmetz, making one of the few mistakes of his life. + +"You think so--you want me to go?" + +"Ach! you must not put it like that. How well you dance--colossal! But +it does not affect me--your going, fraülein." + +"Since you will be there?" + +"Does that make a difference, my dear young lady?" + +"Of course it does." + +"I wonder why." + +"So do I," answered Maggie frankly. "I wonder why. I have been wondering +why, ever since Paul asked me. If you had not been going I should have +said 'No' at once." + +Karl Steinmetz laughed quietly. + +"What do I represent?" he asked. + +"Safety," she replied at once. + +She gave a queer little laugh and went on dancing. + +"And Paul?" he said, after a little while. + +"Strength," replied Maggie promptly. + +He looked down at her--a momentary glance of wonder. He was like a +woman, inasmuch as he judged a person by a flicker of the eyelids--a +glance, a silence--in preference to judging by the spoken word. + +"Then with us both to take care of you, may we hope that you will brave +the perils of Osterno? Ah--the music is stopping." + +"If I may assure my mother that there are no perils." + +Something took place beneath the gray mustache--a smile or a pursing up +of the lips in doubt. + +"Ah, I cannot go so far as that. You may assure Lady Delafield that I +will protect you as I would my own daughter. If--well, if the good God +in heaven had not had other uses for me I should have had a daughter of +your age. Ach! the music has stopped. The music always does stop, Miss +Delafield; that is the worst of it. Thank you for dancing with an old +buffer." + +He took her back to her chaperon, bowed in his old-world way to both +ladies, and left them. + +"If I can help it, my very dear young friend," he said to himself as he +crossed the room, looking for Paul, "you will not go to Osterno." + +He found Paul talking to two men. + +"You here!" said Paul, in surprise. + +"Yes," answered Steinmetz, shaking hands. "I gave Lady Fontain five +guineas to let me in, and now I want a couple of chairs and a quiet +corner, if the money includes such." + +"Come up into the gallery," replied Paul. + +A certain listlessness which had been his a moment before vanished when +Paul recognized his friend. He led the way up the narrow stairs. In the +gallery they found a few people--couples seeking, like themselves, a +rare solitude. + +"What news?" asked Paul, sitting down. + +"Bad!" replied Steinmetz. "We have had the misfortune to make a +dangerous enemy--Claude de Chauxville." + +"Claude de Chauxville," repeated Paul. + +"Yes. He wanted to marry your wife--for her money." + +Paul leaned forward and dragged at his great fair mustache. He was not a +subtle man, analyzing his own thoughts. Had he been, he might have +wondered why he was not more jealous in respect to Etta. + +"Or," went on Steinmetz, "it may have been--the other thing. It is a +singular thing that many men incapable of a lifelong love, can conceive +a lifelong hatred based on that love. Claude de Chauxville has hated me +all his life; for very good reasons, no doubt. You are now included in +his antipathy because you married madame." + +"I dare say," replied Paul carelessly. "But I am not afraid of Claude de +Chauxville, or any other man." + +"I am," said Steinmetz. "He is up to some mischief. I was calling on the +Countess Lanovitch in Petersburg when in walked Claude de Chauxville. He +was constrained at the sight of my stout person, and showed it, which +was a mistake. Now, what is he doing in Petersburg? He has not been +there for ten years, at least. He has no friends there. He revived a +minute acquaintance with the Countess Lanovitch, who is a fool of the +very first water. Before I came away I heard from Catrina that he had +wheedled an invitation to Thors out of the old lady. Why, my friend, +why?" + +Paul reflected, with a frown. + +"We do not want him out there," he said. + +"No; and if he goes there you must remain in England this winter." + +Paul looked up sharply. + +"I do not want to do that. It is all arranged," he said. "Etta was very +much against going at first, but I persuaded her to do so. It would be a +mistake not to go now." + +Looking at him gravely, Steinmetz muttered, "I advise you not to go." + +Paul shrugged his shoulders. + +"I am sorry," he said. "It is too late now. Besides, I have invited Miss +Delafield, and she has practically accepted." + +"Does that matter?" asked Steinmetz quietly. + +"Yes. I do not want her to think that I am a changeable sort of person." + +Steinmetz rose, and standing with his two hands on the marble rail he +looked down into the room below. The music of a waltz was just +beginning, and some of the more enthusiastic spirits had already begun +dancing, moving in and out among the uniforms and gay dresses. + +"Well," he said resignedly; "it is as you will. There is a certain +pleasure in outwitting De Chauxville. He is so d--d clever!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +IN THE CHAMPS ÉLYSÉES + +"You must accept," Steinmetz repeated to Paul. "There is no help for it. +We cannot afford to offend Vassili, of all people in the world." + +They were standing together in the saloon of a suite of rooms assigned +for the time to Paul and his party in the Hôtel Bristol in Paris. +Steinmetz, who held an open letter in his hand, looked out of the window +across the quiet Place Vendôme. A north wind was blowing with true +Parisian keenness, driving before it a fine snow, which adhered bleakly +to the northern face of a column which is chiefly remarkable for the +facility with which it falls and rises again. + +Steinmetz looked at the letter with a queer smile. He held it out from +him as if he distrusted the very stationery. + +"So friendly," he exclaimed; "so very friendly! 'Ce bon Steinmetz' he +calls me. 'Ce bon Steinmetz'--confound his cheek! He hopes that his dear +prince will waive ceremony and bring his charming princess to dine quite +en famille at his little pied à terre in the Champs Élysées. He +guarantees that only his sister, the marquise, will be present, and he +hopes that 'Ce bon Steinmetz,' will accompany you, and also the young +lady, the cousin of the princess." + +Steinmetz threw the letter down on the table, left it there for a +moment, and then, picking it up, he crossed the room and threw it into +the fire. + +"Which means," he explained, "that M. Vassili knows we are here, and +unless we dine with him we shall be subjected to annoyance and delay on +the frontier by a stupid--a singularly and suspiciously stupid--minor +official. If we refuse, Vassili will conclude that we are afraid of him. +Therefore we must accept. Especially as Vassili has his weak points. He +loves a lord, 'Ce Vassili.' If you accept on some of that stationery I +ordered for you with a colossal gold coronet, that will already be of +some effect. A chain is as strong as its weakest link. M. Vassili's +weakest link will be touched by your gorgeous note-paper. If ce cher +prince and la charmante princesse are gracious to him, Vassili is +already robbed of half his danger." + +Paul laughed. It was his habit either to laugh or to grumble at Karl +Steinmetz's somewhat subtle precautions. The word "danger" invariably +made him laugh, with a ring in his voice which seemed to betoken +enjoyment. + +"Of course," he said, "I leave these matters to you. Let us show +Vassili, at all events, that we are not afraid of him." + +"Then sit down and accept." + +That which M. Vassili was pleased to call his little dog-hole in the +Champs Élysées was, in fact, a gorgeous house in the tawdry style of +modern Paris--resplendent in gray iron railings, and high gate-posts +surmounted by green cactus plants cunningly devised in cast iron. + +The heavy front door was thrown open by a lackey, and others bowed in +the halls as if by machinery. Two maids pounced upon the ladies with the +self-assurance of their kind and country, and led the way upstairs, +while the men removed fur coats in the hall. It was all very princely +and gorgeous and Parisian. + +Vassili and his sister the marquise--a stout lady in ruby velvet and +amethysts, who invariably caused Maggie Delafield's mouth to twitch +whenever she opened her own during the evening--received the guests in +the drawing-room. They were standing on the white fur hearth-rug side by +side, when the doors were dramatically thrown open, and the servant +rolled the names unctuously over his tongue. + +Steinmetz, who was behind, saw everything. He saw Vassili's masklike +face contract with stupefaction when he set eyes on Etta. He saw the +self-contained Russian give a little gasp, and mutter an exclamation +before he collected himself sufficiently to bow and conceal his face. +But he could not see Etta's face for a moment or two--until the formal +greetings were over. When he did see it, he noted that it was as white +as marble. + +"Aha! Ce bon Steinmetz!" cried Vassili, with less formality, holding out +his hand with frank and boyish good humor. + +"Aha! Ce cher Vassili!" returned Steinmetz, taking the hand. + +"It is good of you, M. le Prince, and you, madame, to honor us in our +small house," said the marquise in a guttural voice such as one might +expect from within ruby velvet and amethysts. Thereafter she subsided +into silence and obscurity so far as the evening was concerned and the +present historian is interested. + +"So," said Vassili, with a comprehensive bow to all his guests--"so you +are bound for Russia. But I envy you--I envy you. You know Russia, Mme. +la Princesse?" + +Etta met his veiled gaze calmly. + +"A little," she replied. + +There was no sign of recognition in his eyes now, nor pallor on her +face. + +"A beautiful country, but the rest of Europe does not believe it. And +the estate of the prince is one of the vastest, if not the most +beautiful. It is a sporting estate, is it not, prince?" + +"Essentially so," replied Paul. "Bears, wolves, deer, besides, of +course, black game, capercailzie, ptarmigan--every thing one could +desire." + +"Speaking as a sportsman," suggested Vassili gravely. + +"Speaking as a sportsman." + +"Of course--" Vassili paused, and with a little gesture of the hand +included Steinmetz in the conversation. It may have been that he +preferred to have him talking than watching. "Of course, like all great +Russian landholders, you have your troubles with the people, though you +are not, strictly speaking, within the famine district." + +"Not quite; we are not starving, but we are hungry," said Steinmetz +bluntly. + +Vassili laughed, and shook a gold eye-glass chidingly. + +"Ah, my friend, your old pernicious habit of calling a spade a spade! It +is unfortunate that they should hunger a little, but what will you? They +must learn to be provident, to work harder and drink less. With such +people experience is the only taskmaster possible. It is useless talking +to them. It is dangerous to pauperize them. Besides, the accounts that +one reads in the newspapers are manifestly absurd and exaggerated. You +must not, mademoiselle," he said, turning courteously to Maggie, "you +must not believe all you are told about Russia." + +"I do not," replied Maggie, with an honest smile which completely +baffled M. Vassili. He had not had much to do with people who smiled +honestly. + +"Vrai!" he said, with grave emphasis; "I am not joking. It is a matter +of the strictest fact that fiction has for the moment fixed its fancy +upon my country--just as it has upon the East End of your London. Mon +Dieu! what a lot of harm fiction with a purpose can do!" + +"But we do not take our facts from fiction in England," said Maggie. + +"Nor," put in Steinmetz, with his blandest smile, "do we allow fiction +to affect our facts." + +Vassili glanced at Steinmetz sideways. + +"Here is dinner," he said. "Mme. la Princesse, may I have the honor?" + +The table was gorgeously decorated; the wine was perfect; the dishes +Parisian. Every thing was brilliant, and Etta's spirits rose. Such +little things affect the spirits of such little-minded women. It +requires a certain mental reserve from which to extract cheerfulness +over a chop and a pint of beer withal, served on a doubtful cloth. But +some of us find it easy enough to be witty and brilliant over good wine +and a perfectly appointed table. + +"It is exile; it is nothing short of exile," protested Vassili, who led +the conversation. "Much as I admire my own country, as a country, I do +not pretend to regret a fate that keeps me resident in Paris. For men it +is different, but for madame, and for you, mademoiselle--ach!" He +shrugged his shoulders and looked up to the ceiling in mute appeal to +the gods above it. "Beauty, brilliancy, wit--they are all lost in +Russia." + +He bowed to the princess, who was looking, and to Maggie, who was not. + +"What would Paris say if it knew what it was losing?" he added in a +lower tone to Etta, who smiled, well pleased. She was not always able to +distinguish between impertinence and flattery. And indeed they are so +closely allied that the distinction is subtle. + +Steinmetz, on the left hand of the marquise, addressed one or two +remarks to that lady, who replied with her mouth full. He soon +discovered that that which was before her interested her more than any +thing around, and during the banquet he contented himself by uttering an +exclamation of delight at a particular flavor which the lady was kind +enough to point out to him with an eloquent and emphatic fork from time +to time. + +Vassili noted this with some disgust. He would have preferred that Karl +Steinmetz were greedy or more conversational. + +"But," the host added aloud, "ladies are so good. Perhaps you are +interested in the peasants?" + +Etta looked at Steinmetz, who gave an imperceptible nod. + +"Yes," she answered, "I am." + +Vassili followed her glance, and found Steinmetz eating with grave +appreciation of the fare provided. + +"Ah!" he said in an expectant tone; "then you will no doubt pass much of +your time in endeavoring to alleviate their troubles--their +self-inflicted troubles, with all deference to ce cher prince." + +"Why with deference to me?" asked Paul, looking up quietly, with +something in his steady gaze that made Maggie glance anxiously at +Steinmetz. + +"Well, I understand that you hold different opinions," said the Russian. + +"Not at all," answered Paul. "I admit that the peasants have themselves +to blame--just as a dog has himself to blame when he is caught in a +trap." + +"Is the case analogous? Let me recommend those olives--I have them from +Barcelona by a courier." + +"Quite," answered Paul; "and it is the obvious duty of those who know +better to teach the dog to avoid the places where the traps are set. +Thanks, the olives are excellent." + +"Ah!" said Vassili, turning courteously to Maggie, "I sometimes thank my +star that I am not a landholder--only a poor bureaucrat. It is so +difficult to comprehend these questions, mademoiselle. But of all men in +or out of Russia it is possible our dear prince knows best of what he is +talking." + +"Oh, no!" disclaimed Paul, with that gravity at which some were ready to +laugh. "I only judge in a small way from, a small experience." + +"Ah! you are too modest. You know the peasants thoroughly, you +understand them, you love them--so, at least, I have been told. Is it +not so, Mme. la Princesse?" + +Karl Steinmetz was frowning over an olive. + +"I really do not know," said Etta, who had glanced across the table. + +"I assure you, madame, it is so. I am always hearing good of you, +prince." + +"From whom?" asked Paul. + +Vassili shrugged his peculiarly square shoulders. + +"Ah! From all and sundry." + +"I did not know the prince had so many enemies," said Steinmetz bluntly, +whereat the marquise laughed suddenly, and apparently approached within +bowing distance of apoplexy. + +In such wise the conversation went on during the dinner, which was a +long one. Continually, repeatedly, Vassili approached the subject of +Osterno and the daily life in that sequestered country. But those who +knew were silent, and it was obvious that Etta and Maggie were ignorant +of the life to which they were going. + +From time to time Vassili raised his dull, yellow eyes to the servants, +who d'ailleurs were doing their work perfectly, and invariably the +master's glance fell to the glasses again. These the servants never left +in peace--constantly replenishing, constantly watching with that +assiduity which makes men thirsty against their will by reason of the +repeated reminder. + +But tongues wagged no more freely for the choice vintages poured upon +them. Paul had a grave, strong head and that self-control against which +alcohol may ply itself in vain. Karl Steinmetz had taken his degree at +Heidelberg. He was a seasoned vessel, having passed that way before. + +Etta was bright enough--amusing, light, and gay--so long as it was a +question of mere social gossip; but whenever Vassili spoke of the +country to which he expressed so deep a devotion, she, seeming to take +her cue from her husband and his agent, fell to pleasant, non-committing +silence. + +It was only after dinner, in the drawing-room, while musicians +discoursed Offenbach and Rossini from behind a screen of fern and +flower, that Vassili found an opportunity of addressing himself directly +to Etta. In part she desired this opportunity, with a breathless +apprehension behind her bright society smile. Without her assistance he +never would have had it. + +"It is most kind of you," he said in French, which language had been +spoken all the evening in courtesy to the marquise, who was now +asleep--"it is most kind of you to condescend to visit my poor house, +princess. Believe me, I feel the honor deeply. When you first came into +the room--you may have observed it--I was quite taken aback. I--I have +read in books of beauty capable of taking away a man's breath. You must +excuse me--I am a plain-spoken man. I never met it until this evening." + +Etta excused him readily enough. She could forgive plenty of +plain-speaking of this description. Had she not been inordinately vain, +this woman, like many, would have been extraordinarily clever. She +laughed, with little sidelong glances. + +"I only hope that you will honor Paris on your way home to England," +went on Vassili, who had a wonderful knack of judging men and women, +especially shallow ones. "Now, when may that be? When may we hope to see +you again? How long will you be in Russia, and--" + +"Ce Vassili is the best English scholar I know!" broke in Steinmetz, who +had approached somewhat quietly. "But he will not talk, princess--he is +so shy." + +Paul was approaching also. It was eleven o'clock, he said, and +travellers who had to make an early start would do well to get home to +bed. + +When the tall doors had been closed behind the departing guests, Vassili +walked slowly to the fire-place. He posted himself on the bear-skin +hearthrug, his perfectly shod feet well apart--a fine dignified figure +of a man, of erect and military carriage; a very mask of a +face--soulless, colorless, emotionless ever. + +He stood biting at his thumb-nail, looking at the door through which +Etta Alexis had just passed in all the glory of her beauty, wealth, and +position. + +"The woman," he said slowly, "who sold me the Charity League papers--and +she thinks I do not recognize her!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +ON THE NEVA + +Karl Steinmetz had apparently been transacting business on the Vassili +Ostrov, which the travelled reader doubtless knows as the northern bank +of the Neva, a part of Petersburg--an island, as the name tells us, +where business is transacted; where steamers land their cargoes and +riverside loafers impede the traffic. + +What the business of Karl Steinmetz may have been is not of moment or +interest; moreover, it was essentially the affair of a man capable of +holding his own and his tongue against the world. + +He was recrossing the river, not by the bridge, which requires a doffed +hat by reason of its shrine, but by one of the numerous roads cut across +the ice from bank to bank. He duly reached the southern shore, ascending +to the Admiralty Gardens by a flight of sanded steps. Here he lighted a +cigar, and, tucking his hands deep into the pockets of his fur coat, he +proceeded to walk slowly through the bare and deserted public garden. + +A girl had crossed the river in front of him at a smart pace. She now +slackened her speed so much as to allow him to pass her. Karl Steinmetz +noticed the action. He noticed most things--this dull German. Presently +she passed him again. She dropped her umbrella, and before picking it up +described a circle with it--a manoeuvre remarkably like a signal. Then +she turned abruptly and looked into his face, displaying a pleasing +little round physiognomy with a smiling mouth and exaggeratedly grave +eyes. It was a face of all too common a type in these days of cheap +educational literature--the face of a womanly woman engaged in unwomanly +work. + +Then she came back. + +Steinmetz raised his hat in his most fatherly way. + +"My dear young lady," he said in Russian, "if my personal appearance has +made so profound an impression as my vanity prompts me to believe, would +it not be decorous of you to conceal your feelings beneath a maiden +modesty? If, on the other hand, the signals you have been making to me +are of profound political importance, let me assure you that I am no +Nihilist." + +"Then," said the girl, beginning to walk by his side, "what are you?" + +"What you see--a stout middle-aged man in easy circumstances, happily +placed in social obscurity. Which means that I have few enemies and +fewer friends." + +The girl looked as if she would like to laugh, had such exercise been in +keeping with a professional etiquette. + +"Your name is Karl Steinmetz," she said gravely. + +"That is the name by which I am known to a large staff of creditors," +replied he. + +"If you will go to No. 4, Passage Kazan, at the back of the cathedral, +second-floor back room on the left at the top of the stairs, and go +straight into the room, you will find a friend who wishes to see you," +she said, as one repeating a lesson by rote. + +"And who are you, my dear young lady!" + +"I--I am no one. I am only a paid agent." + +"Ah!" + +They walked on in silence a few paces. The bells of St. Isaac's Church +suddenly burst out into a wild carillon, as is their way, effectually +preventing further conversation for a few moments. + +"Will you go?" asked the girl, when the sound had broken off as suddenly +as it had commenced. + +"Probably. I am curious and not nervous--except of damp sheets. My +anonymous friend does not expect me to stay all night, I presume. Did +he--or is it a she, my fatal beauty?--did _it_ not name an hour?" + +"Between now and seven o'clock." + +"Thank you." + +"God be with you!" said the girl, suddenly wheeling round and walking +away. + +Without looking after her Steinmetz walked on, gradually increasing his +pace. In a few minutes he reached the large house standing within iron +gates at the upper end of the English quay, the house of Prince Pavlo +Howard Alexis. + +He found Paul alone in his study. In a few words he explained the +situation. + +"What do you think it means?" asked the prince. + +"Heaven only knows!" + +"And you will go?" + +"Of course," replied Steinmetz. "I love a mystery, especially in +Petersburg. It sounds so like a romance written in the Kennington Road +by a lady who has never been nearer to Russia than Margate." + +"I had better go with you," said Paul. + +"Gott! No!" exclaimed Steinmetz; "I must go alone. I will take Parks to +drive the sleigh, if I may, though. Parks is a steady man, who loves a +rough-and-tumble. A typical British coachman--the brave Parks!" + +"Back in time for dinner?" asked Paul. + +"I hope so. I have had such mysterious appointments thrust upon me +before. It is probably a friend who wants a hundred-ruble note until +next Monday." + +The cathedral clock struck six as Karl Steinmetz turned out of the +Nevski Prospekt into the large square before the sacred edifice. He soon +found the Kazan Passage--a very nest of toyshops--and, following the +directions given, he mounted a narrow staircase. He knocked at the door +on the left hand at the top of the stairs. + +"Come in!" said a voice which caused him to start. + +He pushed open the door. The room was a small one, brilliantly lighted +by a paraffin lamp. At the table sat an old man with broad benevolent +face, high forehead, thin hair, and that smile which savors of the milk +of human kindness, and in England suggests Nonconformity. + +"You!" ejaculated Steinmetz. "Stépan!" + +"Yes. Come in and close the door." + +He laid aside his pen, extended his hand, and, rising, kissed Karl +Steinmetz on both cheeks after the manner of Russians. + +"Yes, my dear Karl. It seems that the good God has still a little work +for Stépan Lanovitch to do. I got away quite easily, in the usual way, +through a paid Evasion Agency. I have been forwarded from pillar to post +like a prize fowl, and reached Petersburg last night. I have not long to +stay. I am going south. I may be able to do some good yet. I hear that +Paul is working wonders in Tver." + +"What about money?" asked Steinmetz, who was always practical. + +"Catrina sent it, the dear child! That is one of the conditions made by +the Agency--a hard one. I am to see no relations. My wife--well, bon +Dieu! it does not matter much. She is occupied in keeping herself warm, +no doubt. But Catrina! that is a different matter. Tell me--how is she? +That is the first thing I want to know." + +"She is well," answered Steinmetz. "I saw her yesterday." + +"And happy?" The broad-faced man looked into Steinmetz's face with +considerable keenness. + +"Yes." + +It was a moment for mental reservations. One wonders whether such are +taken account of in heaven. + +"And Paul?" asked the Count Stépan Lanovitch at once. "Tell me about +him." + +"He is married," answered Steinmetz. + +The Count Lanovitch was looking at the lamp. He continued to look at it +as if interested in the mechanism of the burner. Then he turned his eyes +to the face of his companion. + +"I wonder, my friend," he said slowly, "how much you know?" + +"Nothing," answered Steinmetz. + +The count looked at him enquiringly, heaved a sharp sigh, and abandoned +the subject. + +"Well," he said, "let us get to business. I have much to ask and to tell +you. I want you to see Catrina and to tell her that I am safe and well, +but she must not attempt to see me or correspond with me for some years +yet. Of course you heard no account of my trial. I was convicted, on the +evidence of paid witnesses, of inciting to rebellion. It was easy +enough, of course. I shall live either in the south or in Austria. It is +better for you to be in ignorance." + +Steinmetz nodded his head curtly. + +"I do not want to know," he said. + +"Will you please ask Catrina to send me money through the usual channel? +No more than she has been sending. It will suffice for my small wants. +Perhaps some day we may meet in Switzerland or in America. Tell the dear +child that. Tell her I pray the good God to allow that meeting. As for +Russia, her day has not come yet. It will not come in our time, my dear +friend. We are only the sowers. So much for the future. Now about the +past. I have not been idle. I know who stole the papers of the Charity +League and sold them. I know who bought them and paid for them." + +Steinmetz closed the door. He came back to the table. He was not smiling +now--quite the contrary. + +"Tell me," he said. "I want to know that badly." + +The Count Lanovitch looked up with a peculiar soft smile--acquired in +prison. There is no mistaking it. + +"Oh, I bear no ill will," he said. + +"I do," answered Steinmetz bluntly. "Who stole the papers from Thors?" + +"Sydney Bamborough." + +"Good God in heaven! Is that true?" + +"Yes, my friend." + +Steinmetz passed his broad hand over his forehead as if dazed. + +"And who sold them?" he asked. + +"His wife." + +Count Lanovitch was looking at the burner of the lamp. There was a +peculiar crushed look about the man, as if he had reached the end of his +life, and was lying like a ship, hopelessly disabled in smooth water, +where nothing could affect him more. + +Steinmetz scratched his forehead with one finger, reflectively. + +"Vassili bought them," he said; "I can guess that." + +"You guess right," returned Lanovitch quietly. + +Steinmetz sat down. He looked round as if wondering whether the room was +very hot. Then with a large handkerchief he wiped his brow. + +"You have surprised me," he admitted. "There are complications. I shall +sit up all night with your news, my dear Stépan. Have you details? +Wonderful--wonderful! Of course there is a God in heaven. How can people +doubt it--eh?" + +"Yes," said Stépan Lanovitch quietly. "There is a God in heaven, and at +present he is angry with Russia. Yes, I have details. Sydney Bamborough +came to stay at Thors. Of course he knew all about the Charity +League--you remember that. It appears that his wife was waiting for him +and the papers at Tver. He took them from my room, but he did not get +them all. Had he got them all you would not be sitting there, my friend. +The general scheme he got--the list of committee names, the local +agents, the foreign agents. But the complete list of the League he +failed to find. He secured the list of subscribers, but learned nothing +from it because the sums were identified by a numeral only, the clue to +the numbers being the complete list, which I burned when I missed the +other papers." + +Steinmetz nodded curtly. + +"That was wise," he said. "You are a clever man, Stépan, but too good +for this world and its rascals. Go on." + +"It would appear that Bamborough rode to Tver with the papers, which he +handed to his wife. She took them to Paris while he intended to come +back to Thors. He had a certain cheap cunning and unbounded +impertinence. But--as you know, perhaps--he disappeared." + +"Yes," said Steinmetz, scratching his forehead with one finger. "Yes--he +disappeared." + +Karl Steinmetz had one great factor of success in this world--an +infinite capacity for holding his cards. + +"One more item," said the count, in his businesslike, calm way. "Vassili +paid that woman seven thousand pounds for the papers." + +"And probably charged his masters ten," added Steinmetz. + +"And now you must go!" + +The count rose and looked at his watch--a cheap American article, with a +loud tick. He held it out with his queer washed-out smile, and Steinmetz +smiled. + +The two embraced again--and there was nothing funny in the action. It is +a singular thing that the sight of two men kissing is conducive either +to laughter or to tears. There is no medium emotion. + +"My dear friend--my very dear friend," said the count, "God be with you +always. We may meet again--or we may not." + +Steinmetz walked down the Nevski Prospekt on the left-hand pavement--no +one walks on the other--and the sleigh followed him. He turned into a +large, brilliantly lighted café, and loosened his coat. + +"Give me beer," he said to the waiter; "a very large quantity of it." + +The man smiled obsequiously as he set the foaming mug before him. + +"Is it that his Excellency is cold?" he enquired. + +"No, it isn't," answered Steinmetz. "Quite the contrary." + +He drank the beer, and holding out his hand in the shadow of the table, +he noticed that it trembled only a little. + +"That is better," he murmured. "But I must sit here a while longer. I +suppose I was upset. That is what they call it--upset! I have never been +like that before. Those lamps in the Prospekt! Gott! how they jumped up +and down!" + +He pressed his hand over his eyes as if to shut out the brightness of +the room--the glaring gas and brilliant decorations--the shining bottles +and the many tables which would not keep still. + +"Here," he said to the man, "give me more beer." + +Presently he rose, and, getting rather clumsily into his sleigh, drove +back at the usual breakneck pace to the palace at the upper end of the +English Quay. + +He sent an ambiguous message to Paul, saying that he had returned and +was dressing for dinner. This ceremony he went through slowly, as one +dazed by a great fall or a heavy fatigue. His servant, a quick, silent +man, noticed the strangeness of his manner, and like a wise servant only +betrayed the result of his observation by a readier service, a quicker +hand, a quieter motion. + +As Steinmetz went to the drawing-room he glanced at his watch. It was +twenty minutes past seven. He still had ten minutes to spare before +dinner. + +He opened the drawing-room door. Etta was sitting by the fire, alone. +She glanced back over her shoulder in a quick, hunted way which had only +become apparent to Steinmetz since her arrival at Petersburg. + +"Good-evening," she said. + +"Good-evening, madame," he answered. + +He closed the door carefully behind him. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +AN OFFER OF FRIENDSHIP + +Etta did not move when Steinmetz approached, except, indeed, to push one +foot farther out toward the warmth of the wood fire. She certainly was +very neatly shod. Steinmetz was one of her few failures. She had never +got any nearer to the man. Despite his gray hair and bulky person she +argued that he was still a man, and therefore an easy victim to +flattery--open to the influence of beauty. + +"I wonder why," she said, looking into the fire, "you hate me." + +Steinmetz looked down at her with his grim smile. The mise en scène was +perfect, from the thoughtful droop of the head to the innocent display +of slipper. + +"I wonder why you think that of me," he replied. + +"One cannot help perceiving that which is obvious." + +"While that which is purposely made obvious serves to conceal that which +may exist behind it," replied the stout man. + +Etta paused to reflect over this. Was Steinmetz going to make love to +her? She was not an inexperienced girl, and knew that there was nothing +impossible or even improbable in the thought. She wondered what Karl +Steinmetz must have been like when he was a young man. He had a deft way +even now of planting a double entendre when he took the trouble. How +could she know that his manner was always easiest, his attitude always +politest, toward the women whom he despised. In his way this man was a +philosopher. He had a theory that an exaggerated politeness is an insult +to a woman's intellect. + +"You think I do not care," said the Princess Howard Alexis. + +"You think I do not admire you," replied Steinmetz imperturbably. + +She looked up at him. + +"Do you not give me every reason to think so?" she returned, with a toss +of the head. + +She was one of those women--and there are not a few--who would quarrel +with you if you do not admire them. + +"Not intentionally, princess. I am, as you know, a German of no very +subtle comprehension. My position in your household appears to me to be +a little above the servants, although the prince is kind enough to make +a friend of me and his friends are so good as to do the same. I do not +complain. Far from it. I am well paid. I am interested in my work. I am +more or less my own master. I am very fond of Paul. You--are kind and +forbearing. I do my best--in a clumsy way, no doubt--to spare you my +heavy society. But of course I do not presume to form an opinion upon +your--upon you." + +"But I want you to form an opinion," she said petulantly. + +"Then you must know that I could only form one which would be pleasing +to you." + +"I know nothing of the sort," replied Etta. "Of course I know that all +that you say about position and work is mere irony. Paul thinks there is +no one in the world like you." + +Steinmetz glanced sharply down at her. He had never considered the +possibility that she might love Paul. Was this, after all, jealousy? He +had attributed it to vanity. + +"And I have no doubt he is right," she went on. Suddenly she gave a +little laugh. "Don't you understand?" she said. "I want to be friends." + +She did not look at him, but sat with pouting lips holding out her hand. + +Karl Steinmetz had been up to the elbows, as it were, in the diplomacy +of an unscrupulous, grasping age ever since his college days. He had +been behind the scenes in more than one European crisis, and that which +goes on behind the scenes is not always edifying or conducive to a +squeamishness of touch. He was not the man to be mawkishly afraid of +soiling his fingers. But the small white hand rather disconcerted him. + +He took it, however, in his great, warm, soft grasp, held it for a +moment, and relinquished it. + +"I don't want you to address all your conversation to Maggie, and to +ignore me. Do you think Maggie so very pretty?" + +There was a twist beneath the gray mustache as he answered, "Is that all +the friendship you desire? Does it extend no farther than a passing wish +to be first in petty rivalries of daily existence? I am afraid, my dear +princess, that my friendship is a heavier matter--a clumsier thing than +that." + +"A big thing not easily moved," she suggested, looking up with her +dauntless smile. + +He shrugged his great shoulders. + +"It may be--who knows? I hope it is," he answered. + +"The worst of those big things is that they are sometimes in the way," +said Etta reflectively, without looking at him. + +"And yet the life that is only a conglomeration of trifles is a poor +life to look back upon." + +"Meaning mine?" she asked. + +"Your life has not been trifling," he said gravely. + +She looked up at him, and then for some moments kept silence while she +idly opened and shut her fan. There was in the immediate vicinity of +Karl Steinmetz a sort of atmosphere of sympathy which had the effect of +compelling confidence. Even Etta was affected by it. During the silence +recorded she was quelling a sudden desire to say things to this man +which she had never said to any. She only succeeded in part. + +"Do you ever feel an unaccountable sensation of dread," she asked, with +a weary little laugh; "a sort of foreboding with nothing definite to +forebode?" + +"Unaccountable--no," replied Steinmetz. "But then I am a German--and +stout, which may make a difference. I have no nerves." + +He looked into the fire through his benevolent gold-rimmed spectacles. + +"Is it nerves--or is it Petersburg?" she asked abruptly. "I think it is +Petersburg. I hate Petersburg." + +"Why Petersburg more than Moscow or Nijni or--Tver?" + +She drew in a long, slow breath, looking him up and down the while from +the corners of her eyes. + +"I do not know," she replied collectedly; "I think it is damp. These +houses are built on reclaimed land, I believe. This was all marsh, was +it not?" + +He did not answer her question, and somehow she seemed to expect no +reply. He stood blinking down into the fire while she watched him +furtively from the corners of her eyes, her lips parched and open, her +face quite white. + +A few moments before she had protested that she desired his friendship. +She knew now that she could not brave his enmity. And the one word +"Tver" had done it all! The mere mention of a town, obscure and squalid, +on the upper waters of the mighty Volga in Mid-Russia! + +During those few moments she suddenly came face to face with her +position. What had she to offer this man? She looked him up and +down--stout, placid, and impenetrable. Here was no common adventurer +seeking place--no coxcomb seeking ladies' favors--no pauper to be bought +with gold. She had no means of ascertaining how much he knew, how much +he suspected. She had to deal with a man who held the best cards and +would not play them. She could never hope to find out whether his +knowledge and his suspicions were his alone or had been imparted to +others. In her walk through life she had jostled mostly villains; and a +villain is no very dangerous foe, for he fights on slippery ground. +Except Paul she had never had to do with a man who was quite honest, +upright, and fearless; and she had fallen into the common error of +thinking that all such are necessarily simple, unsuspicious, and a +little stupid. + +She breathed hard, living through years of anxiety in a few moments of +time, and she could only realize that she was helpless, bound hand and +foot in this man's power. + +It was he who spoke first. In the smaller crises of life it is usually +the woman who takes this privilege upon herself; but the larger +situations need a man's steadier grasp. + +"My dear lady," he said, "if you are content to take my friendship as it +is, it is yours. But I warn you it is no showy drawing-room article. +There will be no compliments, no pretty speeches, no little gifts of +flowers, and such trumpery amenities. It will all be very solid and +middle-aged, like myself." + +"You think," returned the lady, "that I am fit for nothing better than +pretty speeches and compliments and floral offerings?" + +She broke off with a forced little laugh, and awaited his verdict with +defiant eyes upraised. He returned the gaze through his placid +spectacles; her beauty, in its setting of brilliant dress and furniture, +soft lights, flowers, and a thousand feminine surroundings, failed to +dazzle him. + +"I do," he said quietly. + +"And yet you offer me your friendship?" + +He bowed in acquiescence. + +"Why?" she asked. + +"For Paul's sake, my dear lady." + +She shrugged her shoulders and turned away from him. + +"Of course," she said, "it is quite easy to be rude. As it happens, it +is precisely for Paul's sake that I took the trouble of speaking to you +on this matter. I do not wish him to be troubled with such small +domestic affairs; and therefore, if we are to live under the same roof, +I shall deem it a favor if you will, at all events, conceal your +disapproval of me." + +He bowed gravely and kept silence. Etta sat with a little patch of color +on either cheek, looking into the fire until the door was opened and +Maggie came in. + +Steinmetz went toward her with his grave smile, while Etta hid a face +which had grown haggard. + +Maggie glanced from one to the other with frank interest. The +relationship between these two had rather puzzled her of late. + +"Well," said Steinmetz, "and what of St. Petersburg?" + +"I am not disappointed," replied Maggie. "It is all I expected and more. +I am not blasée like Etta. Every thing interests me." + +"We were discussing Petersburg when you came in," said Steinmetz, +drawing forward a chair. "The princess does not like it. She complains +of--nerves." + +"Nerves!" exclaimed Maggie, turning to her cousin. "I did not suspect +you of having them." + +Etta smiled, a little wearily. + +"One never knows," she answered, forcing herself to be light, "what one +may come to in old age. I saw a gray hair this morning. I am nearly +thirty-three, you know. When glamour goes, nerves come." + +"Well, I suppose they do--especially in Russia, perhaps. There is a +glamour about Russia, and I mean to cultivate it rather than nerves. +There is a glamour about every thing--the broad streets, the Neva, the +snow, and the cold. Especially the people. It is always especially the +people, is it not?" + +"It is the people, my dear young lady, that lend interest to the world." + +"Paul took me out in a sleigh this morning," went on Maggie, in her +cheerful voice that knew no harm. "I liked every thing--the policemen in +their little boxes at the street corners, the officers in their fur +coats, the cabmen, every-body. There is something so mysterious about +them all. One can easily make up stories about every-body one meets in +Petersburg. It is so easy to think that they are not what they seem. +Paul, Etta, even you, Herr Steinmetz, may not be what you seem." + +"Yes, that is so," answered Steinmetz, with a laugh. + +"You may be a Nihilist," pursued Maggie. "You may have bombs concealed +up your sleeves; you may exchange mysterious passwords with people in +the streets; you may be much less innocent than you appear." + +"All that may be so," he admitted. + +"You may have a revolver in the pocket of your dress-coat," went on +Maggie, pointing to the voluminous garment with her fan. + +His hand went to the pocket in question, and produced exactly what she +had suggested. He held out his hand with a small silver-mounted revolver +lying in the palm of it. + +"Even that," he said, "may be so." + +Maggie looked at it with a sudden curiosity, her bright eyes grave. + +"Loaded?" she asked. + +"Yes." + +"Then I will not examine it. How curious! I wonder how near to the mark +I may have been in other ways." + +"I wonder," said Steinmetz, looking at Etta. "And now tell us something +about the princess. What do you suspect her of?" + +At this moment Paul came into the room, distinguished-looking and grave. + +"Miss Delafield," pursued Steinmetz, turning to the new-comer, "is +telling us her suspicions about ourselves. I am already as good as +condemned to Siberia. She is now about to sit in judgment on the +princess." + +Maggie laughed. + +"Herr Steinmetz has pleaded guilty to the worst accusation," she said. +"On the other counts I leave him to his own conscience." + +"Any thing but that," urged Steinmetz. + +Paul came forward, and Maggie rather obviously avoided looking at him. + +"Tell us of Paul's crimes first," said Etta, rather hurriedly. She +glanced at the clock, whither Karl Steinmetz's eyes had also travelled. + +"Oh, Paul," said Maggie, rather indifferently. Indeed, it seemed as if +her lightness of heart had suddenly failed her. "Well, perhaps he is +deeply involved in schemes for the resurrection of the Polish kingdom, +or something of that sort." + +"That sounds tame," put in Steinmetz. "I think you would construct a +better romance respecting the princess. In books it is always the +beautiful princesses who are most deeply dyed in crime." + +Maggie opened her fan and closed it again. + +"Well," she said, tapping on the arm of her chair with it; "I give Etta +a mysterious past. She is the sort of person who would laugh and dance +at a ball with the knowledge that there was a mine beneath the floor." + +"I do not think I am," said Etta, with a shudder. She rose rather +hurriedly, and crossed the room with a great rustle of silks. + +"Stop her!" she whispered, as she passed Steinmetz. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +A SUSPECTED HOUSE + +The Countess Lanovitch and Catrina were sitting together in the +too-luxurious drawing-room that overlooked the English Quay and the +Neva. The double windows were rigorously closed, while the inner panes +were covered with a thick rime. The sun was just setting over the +marshes that border the upper waters of the Gulf of Finland, and lit up +the snow-clad city with a rosy glow which penetrated to the room where +the two women sat. + +Catrina was restless, moving from chair to chair, from fire-place to +window, with a lack of repose which would certainly have touched the +nerves of a less lethargic person than the countess. + +"My dear child!" that lady was exclaiming with lackadaisical horror, "we +cannot go to Thors yet. The thought is too horrible. You never think of +my health. Besides, the gloom of the everlasting snow is too painful. It +makes me think of your poor mistaken father, who is probably shovelling +it in Siberia. Here, at all events, one can avoid the window--one need +not look at it." + +"The policy of shutting one's eyes is a mistake," said Catrina. + +She had risen, and was standing by the window, her stunted form being +framed, as it were, in a rosy glow of pink. + +The countess heaved a little sigh and gazed idly at the fire. She did +not understand Catrina. She was afraid of her. There was something +rugged and dogged which the girl had inherited from her father--that +Slavonic love of pain for its own sake--which makes Russian patriots and +thinkers strange, incomprehensible beings. + +"I question it, Catrina," said the elder lady; "but perhaps it is a +matter of health. Dr. Stantovitch told me, quite between ourselves, that +if I had given way to my grief at the time of the trial he would not +have held himself responsible for the consequences." + +"Dr. Stantovitch," said Catrina, "is a humbug." + +"My dear child!" exclaimed the countess, "he attends all the noble +ladies of Petersburg." + +"Precisely," answered Catrina. + +She was woman enough to enter into futile arguments with her mother, and +man enough to despise herself for doing it. + +"Why do you want to go back to Thors so soon?" murmured the elder lady, +with a little sigh of despair. She knew she was playing a losing game +very badly. She was mentally shuddering at the recollection of former +sleigh-journeying from Tver to Thors. + +"Because I am sure father would like us to be there this hard winter." + +"But your father is in Siberia," put in the countess, which remark was +ignored. + +"Because if we do not go before the snow begins to melt we shall have to +do the journey in carriages over bad roads, which is sure to knock you +up. Because our place is at Thors, and no one wants us here. I hate +Petersburg. It is no use living here unless one is rich and beautiful +and popular. We are none of those things, so we are better at Thors." + +"But we have many nice friends here, dear. You will see, this afternoon. +I expect quite a reception. By the way, I hope Kupfer has sent the +little cakes. Your father used to be so fond of them. I wonder if we +could send him a box to Siberia. He would enjoy them, poor man! He might +give some to the prison people, and thus obtain a little alleviation. +Yes; the Comte de Chauxville said he would come on my first +reception-day, and, of course, Paul and his wife must return my call. +They will come to-day. I am anxious to see her. They say she is +beautiful and dresses well." + +Catrina's broad white teeth gleamed for a moment in the flickering +firelight, as she clenched them over her lower lip. + +"And therefore Paul's happiness in life is assured," she said, in a hard +voice. + +"Of course. What more could he want?" murmured the countess, in blissful +ignorance of any irony. + +Catrina looked at her mother with a gleam of utter contempt in her eyes. +That is one of the privileges of a great love, whether it bring +happiness or misery--the contempt for all who have never known it. + +While they remained thus the sound of sleigh-bells on the quiet English +Quay made itself heard through the double windows. There was a clang of +many tones, and the horses pulled up with a jerk. The color left +Catrina's face quite suddenly, as if wiped away, leaving her ghastly. +She was going to see Paul and his wife. + +Presently the door opened, and Etta came into the room with the +indomitable assurance which characterized her movements and earned for +her a host of feminine enemies. + +"Mme. la Comtesse," she said, with her most gracious smile, taking the +limp hand offered to her by the Countess Lanovitch. + +Catrina stood in the embrasure of the window, hating her. + +Paul followed on his wife's heels, scarcely concealing his boredom. He +was not a society man. Catrina came forward and exchanged a formal bow +with Etta, who took in her plainness and the faults of her dress at one +contemptuous glance. She smiled with the perfect pity of a good figure +for no figure at all. Paul was shaking hands with the countess. When he +took Catrina's hand her fingers were icy, and twitched nervously within +his grasp. + +The countess was already babbling to Etta in French. The Princess Howard +Alexis always began by informing Paul's friends that she knew no +Russian. For a moment Paul and Catrina were left, as it were, alone. +When the countess was once fairly roused from her chronic lethargy her +voice usually acquired a metallic ring which dominated any other +conversation that might be going on in the room. + +"I wish you happiness," said Catrina, and no one heard her but Paul. She +did not raise her eyes to his, but looked vaguely at his collar. Her +voice was short and rather breathless, as if she had just emerged from +deep water. + +"Thank you," answered Paul simply. + +He turned and somewhat naturally looked at his wife. Catrina's thoughts +followed his. A man is at a disadvantage in the presence of the woman +who loves him. She usually sees through him--a marked difference between +masculine and feminine love. Catrina looked up sharply and caught his +eyes resting on Etta. + +"He does not love her--he does not love her!" was the thought that +instantly leaped into her brain. + +And if she had said it to him he would have contradicted her flatly and +honestly, and in vain. + +"Yes," the countess was saying with lazy volubility; "Paul is one of our +oldest friends. We are neighbors in the country, you know. He has always +been in and out of our house like one of the family. My poor husband was +very fond of him." + +"Is your husband dead, then?" asked Etta in a low voice, with a strange +haste. + +"No; he is only in Siberia. You have perhaps heard of his +misfortune--Count Stépan Lanovitch." + +Etta nodded her head with the deepest sympathy. + +"I feel for you, countess," she said. "And yet you are so brave--and +mademoiselle," she said, turning to Catrina. "I hope we shall see more +of each other in Tver." + +Catrina bowed jerkily and made no reply. Etta glanced at her sharply. +Perhaps she saw more than Catrina knew. + +"I suppose," she said to the countess, with that inclusive manner which +spreads the conversation out, "that Paul and Mlle. de Lanovitch were +playmates?" + +The reply lay with either of the ladies, but Catrina turned away. + +"Yes," answered the countess; "but Catrina is only twenty-four--ten +years younger than Paul." + +"Indeed!" with a faint, cutting surprise. + +Indeed Etta looked younger than Catrina. On a l'âge de son coeur, and if +the heart be worn it transmits its weariness to the face, where such +signs are ascribed to years. So the little stab was justified by +Catrina's appearance. + +While the party assembled were thus exchanging social amenities, a past +master in such commerce joined them in the person of Claude de +Chauxville. + +He smiled his mechanical, heartless smile upon them all, but when he +bowed over Etta's hand his face was grave. He expressed no surprise at +seeing Paul and Etta, though his manner betokened that emotion. There +was no sign of this meeting having been a prearranged matter, brought +about by himself through the easy and innocent instrumentality of the +countess. + +"And you are going to Tver, no doubt?" he said almost at once to Etta. + +"Yes," answered that lady, with a momentary hunted look in her eyes. It +is strange how an obscure geographical name may force its way into our +lives, never to be forgotten. Queen Mary of England struck a note of the +human octave when she protested that the word "Calais" was graven on her +heart. It seemed to Etta that "Tver" was written large wheresoever she +turned, for the conscience looks through a glass and sees whatever may +be written thereon overspreading every prospect. + +"The prince," continued De Chauxville, turning to Paul, "is a great +sportsman, I am told--a mighty hunter. I wonder why Englishmen always +want to kill something." + +Paul smiled, without making an immediate answer. He was not the man to +be led into the danger of repartee by such as De Chauxville. + +"We have a few bears left," he said. + +"You are fortunate," protested De Chauxville. "I shot one when I was +younger. I was immensely afraid, and so was the bear. I have a great +desire to try again." + +Etta glanced at Paul, who returned De Chauxville's bland gaze with all +the imperturbability of a prince. + +The countess's cackling voice broke in at this juncture, as perhaps De +Chauxville had intended it to do. + +"Then why not come and shoot ours?" she said. "We have quite a number of +them in the forests at Thors." + +"Ah, Mme. la Comtesse," he answered, with outspread, deprecatory hands, +"but that would be taking too great an advantage of your hospitality and +your well-known kindness." + +He turned to Catrina, who received him with a half-concealed frown. The +countess bridled and looked at her daughter with obvious maternal +meaning, as one who was saying, "There--you bungled your prince, but I +have procured you a baron." + +"The abuse of hospitality is the last refuge of the needy," continued De +Chauxville oracularly. "But my temptation is strong; shall I yield to +it, mademoiselle?" + +Catrina smiled unwillingly. + +"I would rather leave it to your own conscience," she said. "But I fail +to see the danger you anticipate." + +"Then I accept, madame," said De Chauxville, with the engaging +frankness which ever had a false ring in it. + +If the whole affair had been prearranged in Claude de Chauxville's mind, +it certainly succeeded more fully than is usually the case with human +schemes. If, on the other hand, this invitation was the result of +chance, Fortune had favored Claude de Chauxville beyond his deserts. + +The little scene had played itself out before the eyes of Paul, who did +not want it; of Etta, who desired it; and of Catrina, who did not +exactly know what she wanted, with the precision of a stage-play +carefully rehearsed. + +Claude de Chauxville had unscrupulously made use of feminine vanity with +all the skill that was his. A little glance toward Etta, as he accepted +the invitation, conveyed to her the fact that she was the object of his +clever little plot; that it was in order to be near her that he had +forced the Countess Lanovitch to invite him to Thors; and Etta, with all +her shrewdness, was promptly hoodwinked. Vanity is a handicap assigned +to clever women by Fate, who handicaps us all without appeal. De +Chauxville saw by a little flicker of the eyelids that he had not missed +his mark. He had hit Etta where his knowledge of her told him she was +unusually vulnerable. He had made one ally. The countess he looked upon +with a wise contempt. She was easier game than Etta. Catrina he +understood well enough. Her rugged simplicity had betrayed her secret to +him before he had been five minutes in the room. Paul he despised as a +man lacking finesse and esprit--a truly French form of contempt. For +Frenchmen have yet to learn that such qualities have remarkably little +to do with love. + +Claude de Chauxville was one of those men--alas! too many--who owe their +success in life almost entirely to some feminine influence or another. +Whenever he came into direct opposition to men it was his instinct to +retire from the field. Behind Paul's back he despised him; before his +face he cringed. + +"Then, perhaps," he said, when the princess was engaged in the usual +farewells with the countess, and Paul was moving toward the door--"then, +perhaps, prince, we may meet again before the spring--if the countess +intends her invitation to be taken seriously." + +"Yes," answered Paul; "I often shoot at Thors." + +"If you do not happen to come over, perhaps I may be allowed to call and +pay my respects--or is the distance too great?" + +"You can do it in an hour and a half with a quick horse, if the snow is +good," answered Paul. + +"Then I may make it au revoir?" enquired De Chauxville, holding out a +frank hand. + +"Au revoir," said Paul, "if you wish it." + +And he turned to say good-by to Catrina. + +As De Chauxville had arrived later than the other visitors, it was quite +natural that he should remain after they had left, and it may be safely +presumed that he took good care to pin the Countess Lanovitch down to +her rash invitation. + +"Why is that man coming to Tver?" said Paul, rather gruffly, when Etta +and he were settled beneath the furs of the sleigh. "We do not want him +there." + +"I expect," replied Etta rather petulantly, "that we shall be so +horribly dull that even M. de Chauxville will be a welcome alleviation." + +Paul said nothing. He gave a little sign to the driver, and the horses +leaped forward with a musical clash of their silver bells. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +THE SPIDER AND THE FLY + +It is to be feared that there is a lamentable lack of local color in the +present narrative. Having safely arrived at Petersburg, we have nothing +to tell of that romantic city--no hints at deep-laid plots, no prison, +nor tales of jail-birds--tales with salt on them, bien entendu--the +usual grain. We have hardly mentioned the Nevski Prospekt, which street +by ancient right must needs figure in all Russian romance. We have +instead been prating of drawing-rooms and mere interiors of houses, +which to-day are the same all the world over. A Japanese fan is but a +Japanese fan, whether it hang on the wall of a Canadian drawing-room or +the matting of an Indian bungalow. An Afghan carpet is the same on any +floor. It is the foot that treads the carpet which makes one to differ +from another. + +Whether it be in Petersburg or Pekin, it still must be the human being +that lends the interest to the still life around it. A truce, therefore, +to picturesque description--sour grapes to the present pen--of church +and fort and river, with which the living persons of whom we tell have +little or nothing to do. + +Maggie was alone in the great drawing-room of the house at the end of +the English Quay--alone and grave. Some people, be it noted, are gravest +when alone, and they are wise, for the world has too much gravity for us +to go about it with a long face, making matters worse. Let each of us be +the centre of his own gravity. Maggie Delafield had, perhaps, that spark +in the brain for which we have but an ugly word. We call it "pluck." And +by it we are enabled to win a losing game--and, harder still, to lose a +losing game--without much noise or plaint. + +Whatever this girl's joys or sorrows may have been--and pray you, madam, +remember that no man ever knows his neighbor's heart!--she succeeded as +well as any in concealing both. There are some women who tell one just +enough about themselves to prove that they can understand and +sympathize. Maggie was of these; but she told no more. + +She was alone when Paul came into the room. It was a large room, with +more than one fire-place. Maggie was reading, and she did not look +round. Paul stopped--warming himself by the fire nearest to the door. He +was the sort of man to come into a room without any remark. + +Maggie looked up for a moment, glancing at the wood fire. She seemed to +know for certain that it was Paul. + +"Have you been out?" she asked. + +"Yes--calling." + +He came toward her, standing beside her with his hands clasped behind +his back, looking into the fire. + +"Socially," he said, with a quiet humor, "I am not a success." + +Her book dropped upon her knees, her two hands crossed upon its pages. +She stared at the glowing logs as if his thoughts were written there. + +"I do not want to give way," he went on, "to a habit of morbid +introspection, but socially I am a horrid failure." + +There was a little smile on the girl's face, not caused by his grave +humor. It would appear that she was smiling at something beyond +that--something only visible to her own mental vision. + +"Perhaps you do not try," she suggested practically. + +"Oh, yes, I do. I try in several languages. I have no small-talk." + +"You see," she said gravely, "you are a large man." + +"Does that make any difference?" he asked simply. + +She turned and looked at him as he towered by her side--looked at him +with a queer smile. + +"Yes," she answered, "I think so." + +For some moments they remained thus without speaking--in a peaceful +silence. Although the room was very large, it was peaceful. What is it, +by the way, that brings peace to the atmosphere of a room, of a whole +house sometimes? It can only be something in the individuality of some +person in it. We talk glibly of the comfort of being settled--the +peacefulness, the restfulness of it. Some people, it would appear, are +always settled--of settled convictions, settled mind, settled purpose. +Paul Howard Alexis was perhaps such a person. + +At all events, the girl sitting in the low chair by his side seemed to +be under some such influence, seemed to have escaped the unrest which is +said to live in palaces. + +When she spoke it was with a quiet voice, as one having plenty of time +and leisure. + +"Where have you been?" she asked practically. Maggie was always +practical. + +"To the Lanovitches', where we met the Baron de Chauxville." + +"Ah!" + +"Why--ah?" + +"Because I dislike the Baron de Chauxville," answered Maggie in her +decisive way. + +"I am glad of that--because I hate him!" said Paul. "Have you any reason +for your dislike?" + +Miss Delafield had a reason, but it was not one that she could mention +to Paul. So she gracefully skirted the question. + +"He has the same effect upon me as snails," she explained airily. + +Then, as if to salve her conscience, she gave the reason, but disguised, +so that he did not recognize it. + +"I have seen more of M. de Chauxville than you have," she said gravely. +"He is one of those men of whom women do see more. When men are present +he loses confidence, like a cur when a thoroughbred terrier is about. He +dislikes you. I should take care to give M. de Chauxville a wide berth +if I were you, Paul." + +She had risen, after glancing at the clock. She turned down the page of +her book, and looking up suddenly, met his eyes, for a moment only. + +"We are not likely to drop into a close friendship," said Paul. "But--he +is coming to Thors, twenty miles from Osterno." + +There was a momentary look of anxiety in the girl's eyes, which she +turned away to hide. + +"I am sorry for that," she said. "Does Herr Steinmetz know it?" + +"Not yet." + +Maggie paused for a moment. She was tracing with the tip of her finger a +pattern stamped on the binding of the book. It would seem that she had +something more to say. Then suddenly she went away without saying it. + +In the meantime Claude de Chauxville had gently led the Countess +Lanovitch to invite him to stay to dinner. He accepted the invitation +with becoming reluctance, and returned to the Hotel de Berlin, where he +was staying, in order to dress. He was fully alive to the expediency of +striking while the iron is hot--more especially where women are +concerned. Moreover, his knowledge of the countess led him to fear that +she would soon tire of his society. This lady had a lamentable facility +for getting to the bottom of her friends' powers of entertainment within +a few days. It was De Chauxville's intention to make secure his +invitation to Thors, and then to absent himself from the countess. + +At dinner he made himself vastly agreeable, recounting many anecdotes +fresh from Paris, which duly amused the Countess Lanovitch, and somewhat +shocked Catrina, who was not advanced or inclined to advance. + +After dinner the guest asked Mlle. Catrina to play. He opened the grand +piano in the inner drawing-room with such gallantry and effusion that +the sanguine countess, post-prandially somnolescent in her luxurious +chair, began rehearsing different modes of mentioning her son-in-law, +the baron. + +"Yes," she muttered to herself, "and Catrina is plain--terribly plain." + +Thereupon she fell asleep. + +De Chauxville had a good memory, and was, moreover, a good and capable +liar. So Catrina did not find out that he knew nothing whatever of +music. He watched the plain face as the music rose and fell, himself +impervious to its transcendent tones. With practised cunning he waited +until Catrina was almost intoxicated with music--an intoxication to +which all great musicians are liable. + +"Ah!" he said. "I envy you your power. With music like that one can +almost imagine that life is what one would wish it to be." + +She did not answer, but she wandered off into another air--a slumber +song. + +"The Schlummerlied," said De Chauxville softly. "It almost has the power +to send a sorrow to sleep." + +This time she answered him--possibly because he had not looked at her. + +"Such never sleep," she said. + +"Do you know that, too?" he asked, not in a tone that wanted reply. + +She made no answer. + +"I am sorry," he went on. "For me it is different, I am a man. I have +man's work to do. I can occupy myself with ambition. At all events, I +have a man's privilege of nursing revenge." + +He saw her eyes light up, her breast heave with a sudden sigh. Something +like a smile wavered for a moment beneath his waxed mustache. + +Catrina's fingers, supple and strong, struck in great chords the air of +a gloomy march from the half-forgotten muse of some monastic composer. +While she played, Claude de Chauxville proceeded with his delicate touch +to play on the hidden chords of an untamed heart. + +"A man's privilege," he repeated musingly. + +"Need it be such?" she asked. + +For the first time his eyes met hers. + +"Not necessarily," he answered, and her eyes dropped before his narrow +gaze. + +He sat back in his chair, content for the moment with the progress he +had made. He glanced at the countess. He was too experienced a man to be +tricked. The countess was really asleep. Her cap was on one side, her +mouth open. A woman who is pretending to sleep usually does so in +becoming attitudes. + +De Chauxville did not speak again for some minutes. He sat back in his +chair, leaning his forehead on his hand, while he peeped through his +slim fingers. He could almost read the girl's thoughts as she put them +into music. + +"She does not hate him yet," he was reflecting. "But she needs only to +see him with Etta a few times and she will come to it." + +The girl played on, throwing all the pain in her passionate, untamed +heart into the music. She knew nothing of the world; for half of its +temptations, its wiles, its wickednesses were closed to her by the plain +face that God had given her. For beautiful women see the worst side of +human nature--they usually deal with the worst of men. Catrina was an +easy tool in the hands of such as Claude de Chauxville; for he had dealt +with women and that which is evil in women all his life, and the only +mistakes he ever made were those characteristic errors of omission +attaching to a persistent ignorance of the innate good in human nature. +It is this same innate good that upsets the calculations of most +villains. + +Absorbed as she was in her great grief, Catrina was in no mood to seek +for motives--to split a moral straw. She only knew that this man seemed +to understand her as no one had ever understood her. She was content +with the knowledge that he took the trouble to express and to show a +sympathy of which those around her had not suspected her to be in need. + +The moment had been propitious, and Claude de Chauxville, with true +Gallic insight, had seized it. Her heart was sore and lonely--almost +breaking--and she was without the worldly wisdom which tells us that +such hearts must, at all costs, be hidden from the world. She was +without religious teaching--quite without that higher moral teaching +which is independent of creed and conformity, which is only learnt at a +good mother's knee. Catrina had not had a good mother. She had had the +countess--a weak-minded, self-indulgent, French-novel-reading woman. +Heaven protect our children from such mothers! + +In the solitude of her life Catrina Lanovitch had conceived a great +love--a passion such as a few only are capable of attaining, be it for +weal or woe. She had seen this love ignored--walked under foot by its +object with a grave deliberation which took her breath away when she +thought of it. It was all in all to her; to him it was nothing. Her +philosophy was simple. She could not sit still and endure. At this time +it seemed unbearable. She must turn and rend some one. She did not know +whom. But some one must suffer. It was in this that Claude de Chauxville +proposed to assist her. + +"It is preposterous that people should make others suffer and go +unpunished," he said, intent on his noble purpose. + +Catrina's eyelids flickered, but she made no answer. The soreness of her +heart had not taken the form of a definite revenge as yet. Her love for +Paul was still love, but it was perilously near to hatred. She had not +reached the point of wishing definitely that he should suffer, but the +sight of Etta--beautiful, self-confident, carelessly possessive in +respect to Paul--had brought her within measurable distance of it. + +"The arrogance of those who have all that they desire is insupportable," +the Frenchman went on in his favorite, non-committing, epigrammatic way. + +Catrina--a second Eve--glanced at him, and her silence gave him +permission to go on. + +"Some men have a different code of honor for women, who are helpless." + +Catrina knew vaguely that unless a woman is beloved by the object of her +displeasure, she cannot easily make him suffer. + +She clenched her teeth over her lower lip. As she played, a new light +was dawning in her eyes. The music was a marvel, but no one in the room +heard it. + +"I would be pitiless to all such men," said De Chauxville. "They deserve +no pity, for they have shown none. The man who deceives a woman is +worthy of--" + +He never finished the sentence. Her deep, passionate eyes met his. Her +hands came down with one final crash on the chords. She rose and crossed +the room. + +"Mother," she said, "shall I ring for tea?" + +When the countess awoke, De Chauxville was turning over some sheets of +music at the piano. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +A WINTER SCENE + +Between Petersburg and the sea there are several favorite islands more +or less assigned to the foreigners residing in the Russian capital. Here +the English live, and in summer the familiar cries of the tennis-lawn +may be heard, while in winter snow-shoeing, skating, and tobogganing +hold merry sway. + +It was here, namely, on the island of Christeffsky, that a great ice +fête was held on the day preceding the departure of the Howard Alexis +household for Tver. The fête was given by one of the foreign +ambassadors--a gentleman whose wife was accredited to the first place +in Petersburg society. It was absolutely necessary, Steinmetz averred, +for the whole Howard Alexis party to put in an appearance. + +The fête was supposed to begin at four in the afternoon, and by five +o'clock all St. Petersburg--all, c'est à dire, worthy of mention in that +aristocratic city--had arrived. One may be sure Claude de Chauxville +arrived early, in beautiful furs with a pair of silver-plated skates +under his arm. He was an influential member of the Cercle des Patineurs +in Paris. Steinmetz arrived soon after, to look on, as he told his many +friends. He was, he averred, too stout to skate and too heavy for the +little iron sleds on the ice-hills. + +"No, no!" he said, "there is nothing left for me but to watch. I shall +watch De Chauxville," he added, turning to that graceful skater with a +grim smile. De Chauxville nodded and laughed. + +"You have been doing that any time this twenty years, mon ami," he said, +as he stood upright on his skates and described an easy little figure on +the outside edge backward. + +"And have always found you on slippery ground." + +"And never a fall," said De Chauxville over his shoulder, as he shot +away across the brilliantly lighted pond. + +It was quite dark. A young moon was rising over the city, throwing out +in dark relief against the sky a hundred steeples and domes. The long, +thin spire of the Fortress Church--the tomb of the Romanoffs--shot up +into the heavens like a dagger. Near at hand, a thousand electric lights +and colored lanterns, cunningly swung on the branches of the pines, made +a veritable fairyland. The ceaseless song of the skates, on ice as hard +as iron, mingled with the strains of a band playing in a kiosk with open +windows. From the ice-hills came the swishing scream of the iron runners +down the terrific slope. The Russians are a people of great emotions. +There is a candor in their recognition of the needs of the senses which +does not obtain in our self-conscious nature. These strangely +constituted people of the North--a budding nation, a nation which shall +some day overrun the world--are easily intoxicated. And there is a +deliberation about their methods of seeking this enjoyment which appears +at times almost brutal. There is nothing more characteristic than the +ice-hill. + +Imagine a slope as steep as a roof, paved with solid blocks of ice, +which are subsequently frozen together by flooding with water; imagine a +sledge with steel runners polished like a knife; imagine a thousand +lights on either side of this glittering path, and you have some idea of +an ice-hill. It is certainly the strongest form of excitement +imaginable--next, perhaps, to whale-fishing. + +There is no question of breathing, once the sledge has been started by +the attendant. The sensation is somewhat suggestive of a fall from a +balloon, and yet one goes to the top again, as surely as the drunkard +will return to his bottle. Fox-hunting is child's play to it, and yet +grave men have prayed that they might die in pink. + +Steinmetz was standing at the foot of the ice-hill when an arm was +slipped within his. + +"Will you take me down?" asked Maggie Delafield. + +He turned and smiled at her--fresh and blooming in her furs. + +"No, my dear young lady. But thank you for suggesting it." + +"Is it very dangerous?" + +"Very. But I think you ought to try it. It is a revelation. It is an +epoch in your life. When I was a younger man I used to sneak away to an +ice-hill where I was not known, and spend hours of the keenest +enjoyment. Where is Paul?" + +"He has just gone over there with Etta." + +"She refuses to go?" + +"Yes," answered Maggie. + +Steinmetz looked down at his companion with his smile of quiet +resignation. + +"You tell me you are afraid of mice," he said. + +"I hate mice," she replied. "Yes--I suppose I am afraid of them." + +"The princess is not afraid of _rats_--she is afraid of very little, the +princess--and yet she will not go on the ice-hill. What strange +creatures, mademoiselle! Come, let us look for Paul. He is the only man +who may be trusted to take you down." + +They found Paul and Etta together in one of the brilliantly lighted +kiosks where refreshments were being served, all hot and steaming, by +fur-clad servants. It was a singular scene. If a coffee-cup was left for +a few moments on the table by the watchful servitors, the spoon froze to +the saucer. The refreshments--bread and butter, dainty sandwiches of +caviare, of pâté de foie gras, of a thousand delicatessen from Berlin +and Petersburg--were kept from freezing on hot-water dishes. The whole +scene was typical of life in the northern capital, where wealth wages a +successful fight against climate. Open fires burned brilliantly in iron +tripods within the doorway of the tent, and at intervals in the gardens. +In a large hall a string band consoled those whose years or lungs would +not permit of the more vigorous out-door entertainments. + +Steinmetz made known to Paul Maggie's desire to risk her life on the +ice-hills, and gallantly proposed to take care of the princess until his +return. + +"Then," said Etta gayly, "you must skate. It is much too cold to stand +about. They are going to dance a cotillon." + +"If it is your command, princess, I obey with alacrity." + +Etta spoke rapidly, looking round her all the while with the bright +enjoyment which overspreads the faces of some women at almost any form +of entertainment, provided there be music, brilliant lights, and a crowd +of people. One cannot help wondering a little what the minds of such +fair ladies must consist of, to be thrown off their balance by such +outward influences. Etta's eyes gleamed with excitement. She was +beautifully dressed in furs, which adornment she was tall and stately +enough to carry to full advantage. She held her graceful head with regal +hauteur, every inch a princess. She was enjoying her keenest pleasure--a +social triumph. No whisper escaped her, no glance, no nudge of admiring +or envious notice. On Steinmetz's arm she passed out of the tent; the +touch of her hand on his sleeve reminded him of a thoroughbred horse +stepping on to turf, so full of life, of electric thrill, of excitement +was it. But then, Karl Steinmetz was a cynic. No one else could have +thought of comparing Etta's self-complaisant humor to that of a horse in +a racing paddock. + +They procured skates and glided off hand in hand, equally proficient, +equally practised, maybe on this same lake; for both had learned to +skate in Russia. + +They talked only of the present, of the brilliancy of the fête, of the +music, of the thousand lights. Etta was quite incapable of thinking or +talking of any other subject at that moment. + +Steinmetz distinguished Claude de Chauxville easily enough, and avoided +him with some success for a short time. But De Chauxville soon caught +sight of them. + +"Here is M. de Chauxville," said Etta, with a pleased ring in her voice. +"Leave me with him. I expect you are tired." + +"I am not tired, but I am obedient," replied Steinmetz, as the Frenchman +came up with his fur cap in his hand, bowing gracefully. Claude de +Chauxville usually overdid things. There is something honest in a clumsy +bow which had no place in his courtly obeisance. + +Although Steinmetz continued to skate in a leisurely way, he also held +to his original intention of looking on. He saw Paul and Maggie come +back to the edge of the lake, accompanied by an English lady of some +importance in Russia, with whom Maggie presently went away to the +concert-room. + +Steinmetz glided up to Paul, who was lighting a cigarette at the edge of +the pond, where an attendant stood by an open wood fire with cigarettes +and hot beverages. + +"Get a pair of skates," said the German. "This ice is +marvellous--colossa-a-a-l." + +He amused himself with describing figures, like a huge grave-minded boy, +until Paul joined him. + +"Where is Etta?" asked the prince at once. + +"Over there with De Chauxville." + +Paul said nothing for a few moments. They skated side by side round the +lake. It was too cold to stand still even for a minute. + +"I told you," remarked Paul at length, "that that fellow is coming to +Thors." + +"I wish he would go to the devil," said Steinmetz. + +"No doubt he will in time," answered Paul carelessly. + +"Yes; but not soon enough. I assure you, Paul, I do not like it. We are +just in that position that the least breath of suspicion will get us +into endless trouble. The authorities know that Stépan Lanovitch has +escaped. At any moment the Charity League scandal may be resuscitated. +We do not want fellows like De Chauxville prowling about. I know the +man. He is a d--d scoundrel who would sell his immortal soul if he could +get a bid for it. What is he coming to Thors for? He is not a sportsman; +why, he would be afraid of a cock pheasant, though he would be plucky +enough among the hens. You don't imagine he is in love with Catrina, do +you?" + +"No," said Paul sharply, "I don't." + +Steinmetz raised his bushy eyebrows. Etta and De Chauxville skated past +them at that moment, laughing gayly. + +"I have been thinking about it," went on Steinmetz, "and I have come to +the conclusion that our friend hates you personally. He has a grudge +against you of some sort. Of course he hates me--cela va sans dire. He +has come to Russia to watch us. That I am convinced of. He has come here +bent on mischief. It may be that he is hard up and is to be bought. He +is always to be bought, ce bon De Chauxville, at a price. We shall see." + +Steinmetz paused and glanced at Paul. He could not tell him more. He +could not tell him that his wife had sold the Charity League papers to +those who wanted them. He could not tell him all that he knew of Etta's +past. None of these things could Karl Steinmetz, in the philosophy that +was his, tell to the person whom they most concerned. And who are we +that we may hold him wrong? The question of telling and withholding is +not to be dismissed in a few words. But it seems very certain that there +is too much telling, too much speaking out, and too little holding in, +in these days of much publicity. There is a school of speakers-out, and +would to Heaven they would learn to hold their tongues. There is a +school for calling a spade by no other name, and they have still to +learn that the world is by no means interested in their clatter of +shovels. + +The Psalmist knew much of which he did not write, and the young men of +the modern school of poesy and fiction know no more, but they lack the +good taste of the singer of old. That is all. + +Karl Steinmetz was a man who formed his opinion on the best +basis--namely, experience, and that had taught him that a bold reticence +does less harm to one's neighbor than a weak volubility. + +Paul was an easy subject for such treatment. His own method inclined to +err on the side of reticence. He gave few confidences and asked none, as +is the habit of Englishmen. + +"Well," he said, "I do not suppose he will stay long at Thors, and I +know that he will not stay at all at Osterno. Besides, what harm can he +actually do to us? He cannot well go about making enquiries. To begin +with, he knows no Russian." + +"I doubt that," put in Steinmetz. + +"And, even if he does, he cannot come poking about in Osterno. Catrina +will give him no information. Maggie hates him. You and I know him. +There is only the countess." + +"Who will tell him all she knows! She would render that service to a +drosky driver." + +Paul shrugged his shoulders. + +There was no mention of Etta. They stood side by side, both thinking of +her, both looking at her, as she skated with De Chauxville. There lay +the danger, and they both knew it. But she was the wife of one of them +and their lips were necessarily sealed. + +"And it will be permitted," Claude de Chauxville happened to be saying +at that moment, "that I call and pay my respects to an exiled princess?" + +"There will be difficulties," answered Etta, in that tone which makes it +necessary to protest that difficulties are nothing under some +circumstances--the which De Chauxville duly protested with much fervor. + +"You think that twenty miles of snow would deter me," he said. + +"Well, they might." + +"They might if--well--" + +He left the sentence unfinished--the last resource of the sneak and the +coward who wishes to reserve to himself the letter of the denial in the +spirit of the meanest lie. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +HOME + +A tearing, howling wind from the north--from the boundless snow-clad +plains of Russia that lie between the Neva and the Yellow Sea; a gray +sky washed over as with a huge brush dipped in dirty whitening; and the +plains of Tver a spotless, dazzling level of snow. + +The snow was falling softly and steadily, falling, as it never falls in +England, in little more than fine powder, with a temperature forty +degrees below freezing-point. A drift--constant, restless, never +altering--sped over the level plain like the dust on a high-road before +a steady wind. This white scud--a flying scud of frozen water--was +singularly like the scud that is blown from the crest of the waves by a +cyclone in the China Seas. Any object that broke the wind--a stunted +pine, a broken tree-trunk, a Government road-post--had at its leeward +side a high, narrow snow-drift tailing off to the dead level of the +plain. Where the wind dropped the snow rose at once. But these objects +were few and far between. The deadly monotony of the scene--the +trackless level, the preposterous dimensions of the plain, the sense of +distance that is conveyed only by the steppe and the great desert of +Gobi when the snow lies on it--all these tell the same grim truth to all +who look on them: the old truth that man is but a small thing and his +life but as the flower of the grass. + +Across the plain of Tver, before the north wind, a single sleigh was +tearing as fast as horse could lay hoof to ground--a sleigh driven by +Paul Howard Alexis, and the track of it was as a line drawn from point +to point across a map. + +A striking feature of the winter of Northern Russia is the glorious +uncertainty of its snowfalls. At Tver the weather-wise had said: + +"The snow has not all fallen yet. More is coming. It is yellow in the +sky, although March is nearly gone." + +The landlord of the hotel (a good enough resting-place facing the broad +Volga) had urged upon M. le Prince the advisability of waiting, as is +the way of landlords all the world over. But Etta had shown a strange +restlessness, a petulant desire to hurry forward at all risks. She hated +Tver; the hotel was uncomfortable, there was an unhealthy smell about +the place. + +Paul acceded readily enough to her wishes. He rather liked Tver. In a +way he was proud of this busy town--a centre of Russian civilization. He +would have liked Etta to be favorably impressed with it, as any +prejudice would naturally reflect upon Osterno, 140 miles across the +steppe. But with a characteristic silent patience he made the necessary +preparations for an immediate start. + +The night express from St. Petersburg had deposited them on the platform +in the early morning. Steinmetz had preceded them. Closed sleighs from +Osterno were awaiting them. A luxurious breakfast was prepared at the +hotel. Relays of horses were posted along the road. The journey to +Osterno had been carefully planned and arranged by Steinmetz--a king +among organizers. The sleigh drive across the steppe was to be +accomplished in ten hours. + +The snow had begun to fall as they clattered across the floating bridge +of Tver. It had fallen ever since, and the afternoon lowered gloomily. +In America such visitations are called "blizzards"; here in Russia it is +merely "the snow." The freezing wind is taken as a matter of course. + +At a distance of one hundred miles from Tver, the driver of the sleigh +containing Etta, Maggie, and Paul had suddenly rolled off his perch. His +hands were frostbitten; a piteous blue face peered out at his master +through ice-laden eyebrows, mustache, and beard. In a moment Maggie was +out in the snow beside the two men, while Etta hastily closed the door. + +"He is all right," said Paul; "it is only the cold. Pour some brandy +into his mouth while I hold the ice aside. _Don't_ take off your gloves. +The flask will stick to your fingers." + +Maggie obeyed with her usual breezy readiness, turning to nod +reassurance to Etta, who, truth to tell, had pulled up the rime-covered +windows, shutting out the whole scene. + +"He must come inside," said Maggie. "We are nice and warm with all the +hot-water cans." + +Paul looked rather dubiously toward the sleigh. + +"You can carry him, I suppose?" said the girl cheerfully. "He is not +very big--he is all fur coat." + +Etta looked rather disgusted, but made no objection, while Paul lifted +the frozen man into the seat he had just vacated. + +"When you are cold I will drive," cried Maggie, as Paul shut the door. +"I should love it." + +Thus it came about that a single sleigh was speeding across the plain of +Tver. + +Paul, with the composure that comes of a large experience, gathered the +reins in his two hands, driving with both and with extended arms, after +the manner of Russian yemschiks. For a man must accommodate himself to +circumstance, and fingerless gloves are not conducive to a finished +style of handling the ribbons. + +This driver knew that the next station was twenty miles off; that at any +moment the horses might break down or plunge into a drift. He knew that +in the event of such emergencies it would be singularly easy for four +people to die of cold within a few miles of help. But he had faced such +possibilities a hundred times before in this vast country, where the +standard price of a human life is no great sum. He was not, therefore, +dismayed, but rather took delight in battling with the elements, as all +strong men should, and most of them, thank Heaven, do. + +Moreover he battled successfully, and before the moon was well up drew +rein outside the village of Osterno, to accede at last to the +oft-repeated prayer of the driver that he might return to his task. + +"It is not meet," the man had gruffly said, whenever a short halt was +made to change horses, "that a great prince should drive a yemschik." + +"It is meet," answered Paul simply, "for one man to help another." + +Then this man of deeds and not of words clambered into the sleigh and +drew up the windows, hiding his head as he drove through his own +village, where every man was dependent for life and being on his +charity. + +They were silent, for the ladies were tired and cold. + +"We shall soon be there," said Paul reassuringly. But he did not lower +the windows and look out, as any man might have wished to do on +returning to the place of his birth. + +Maggie sat back, wrapped in her furs. She was meditating over the events +of the day, and more particularly over a certain skill, a quickness of +touch, a deft handling of stricken men which she had noted far out on +the snowy steppe a few hours earlier. Paul was a different man when he +had to deal with pain and sickness; he was quicker, brighter, full of +confidence in himself. For the great sympathy was his--that love of the +neighbor which is thrown like a mantle over the shoulders of some men, +making them different from their fellows, securing to them that love of +great and small which, perchance, follows some when they are dead to +that place where a human testimony may not be all in vain. + +At the castle all was in readiness for the prince and princess, their +departure from Tver having been telegraphed. On the threshold of the +great house, before she had entered the magnificent hall, Etta's eyes +brightened, her fatigue vanished. She played her part before the crowd +of bowing servants with that forgetfulness of mere bodily fatigue which +is expected of princesses and other great ladies. She swept up the broad +staircase, leaning on Paul's arm, with a carriage, a presence, a +dazzling wealth of beauty, which did not fail to impress the onlookers. +Whatever Etta may have failed to bring to Paul Howard Alexis as a wife, +she made him a matchless princess. + +He led her straight through the drawing-room to the suite of rooms which +were hers. These consisted of an ante-room, a small drawing-room, and +her private apartments beyond. + +Paul stopped in the drawing-room, looking round with a simple +satisfaction in all that had been done by his orders for Etta's comfort. + +"These," he said, "are your rooms." + +He was no adept at turning a neat phrase--at reeling off a pretty +honeymoon welcome. Perhaps he expected her to express delight, to come +to him, possibly, and kiss him, as some women would have done. + +She looked round critically. + +"Yes," she said, "they are very nice." + +She crossed the room and drew aside the curtain that covered the +double-latticed windows. The room was so warm that there was no rime on +the panes. She gave a little shudder, and he went to her side, putting +his strong, quiet arm around her. + +Below them, stretching away beneath the brilliant moonlight, lay the +country that was his inheritance, an estate as large as a large English +county. Immediately beneath them, at the foot of the great rock upon +which the castle was built, nestled the village of Osterno--straggling, +squalid. + +"Oh!" she said dully, "this is Siberia; this is terrible!" + +It had never presented itself to him in that light, the wonderful +stretch of country over which they were looking. + +"It is not so bad," he said, "in the daylight." + +And that was all; for he had no persuasive tongue. + +"That is the village," he went on, after a little pause. "Those are the +people who look to us to help them in their fight against terrible odds. +I hoped--that you would be interested in them." + +She looked down curiously at the little wooden huts, half-buried in the +snow; the smoking chimneys; the twinkling, curtainless windows. + +"What do you expect me to do?" she asked in a queer voice. + +He looked at her in a sort of wonderment. Perhaps it seemed to him that +a woman should have no need to ask such a question. + +"It is a long story," he said; "I will tell you about it another time. +You are tired now, after your journey." + +His arm slipped from her waist. They stood side by side. And both were +conscious of a feeling of difference. They were not the same as they had +been in London. The atmosphere of Russia seemed to have had some subtle +effect upon them. + +Etta turned and sat slowly down on a low chair before the fire. She had +thrown her furs aside, and they lay in a luxurious heap on the floor. +The maids, hearing that the prince and princess were together, waited +silently in the next room behind the closed door. + +"I think I had better hear it now," said Etta. + +"But you are tired," protested her husband. "You had better rest until +dinner-time." + +"No; I am not tired." + +He came toward her and stood with one elbow on the mantel-piece, looking +down at her--a quiet, strong man, who had already forgotten his feat of +endurance of a few hours earlier. + +"These people," he said, "would die of starvation and cold and sickness +if we did not help them. It is simply impossible for them in the few +months that they can work the land to cultivate it so as to yield any +more than their taxes. They are overtaxed, and no one cares. The army +must be kept up and a huge Civil Service, and no one cares what happens +to the peasants. Some day the peasants _must_ turn, but not yet. It is a +question for all Russian land-owners to face, and nobody faces it. If +any one tries to improve the condition of his peasants--they were +happier a thousand times as serfs--the bureaucrats of Petersburg mark +him down and he is forced to leave the country. The whole fabric of this +Government is rotten, but every-one, except the peasants, would suffer +by its fall, and therefore it stands." + +Etta was staring into the fire. It was impossible to say whether she +heard with comprehension or not. Paul went on: + +"There is nothing left, therefore, but to go and do good by stealth. I +studied medicine with that view. Steinmetz has scraped and economized +the working of the estate for the same purpose. The Government will not +allow us to have a doctor; they prevent us from organizing relief and +education on anything like an adequate scale. They do it all by +underhand means. They have not the pluck to oppose us openly! For years +we have been doing what we can. We have almost eradicated cholera. They +do not die of starvation now. And they are learning--very slowly, but +still they are learning. We--I--thought you might be interested in your +people; you might want to help." + +She gave a short little nod. There was a suggestion of suspense in her +whole being and attitude, as if she were waiting to hear something which +she knew could not be avoided. + +"A few years ago," he went on, "a gigantic scheme was set on foot. I +told you a little about it--the Charity League." + +Her lips moved, but no sound came from them, so she nodded a second +time. A tiny carriage-clock on the mantel-piece struck seven, and she +looked up in a startled way, as if the sound had frightened her. The +castle was quite still. Silence seemed to brood over the old walls. + +"That fell through," he went on, "as I told you. It was betrayed. Stépan +Lanovitch was banished. He has escaped, however; Steinmetz has seen him. +He succeeded in destroying some of the papers before the place was +searched after the robbery--one paper in particular. If he had not +destroyed that, I should have been banished. I was one of the leaders of +the Charity League. Steinmetz and I got the thing up. It would have been +for the happiness of millions of peasants if it had not been betrayed. +In time--we shall find out who did it." + +He paused. He did not say what he would do when he had found out. + +Etta was staring into the fire. Her lips were dry. She hardly seemed to +be breathing. + +"It is possible," he went on in his strong, quiet, inexorable voice, +"that Stépan Lanovitch knows now." + +Etta did not move. She was staring into the fire--staring--staring. + +Then she slowly fainted, rolling from the low chair to the fur +hearth-rug. + +Paul picked her up like a child and carried her to the bedroom, where +the maids were waiting to dress her. + +"Here," he said, "your mistress has fainted from the fatigue of the +journey." + +And, with his practised medical knowledge, he himself tended her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +OSTERNO + +"Always gay; always gay!" laughed Steinmetz, rubbing his broad hands +together and looking down into the face of Maggie, who was busy at the +breakfast-table. + +"Yes," answered the girl, glancing toward Paul, leaning against the +window reading his letters. "Yes, always gay. Why not?" + +Karl Steinmetz saw the glance. It was one of the little daily incidents +that one sees and half forgets. He only half forgot it. + +"Why not, indeed?" he answered. "And you will be glad to hear that +Ivanovitch is as ready as yourself this morning to treat the matter as a +joke. He is none the worse for his freezing, and all the better for his +experience. You have added another friend, my dear young lady, to a list +which is, doubtless, a very long one." + +"He is a nice man," answered Maggie. "How is it," she asked, after a +little pause, "that there are more men in the lower classes whom one can +call nice than among their betters?" + +Paul paused between two letters, hearing the question. He looked up as +if interested in the answer, but did not join in the conversation. + +"Because dealing with animals and with nature is more conducive to +niceness than too much trafficking with human beings," replied Steinmetz +promptly. + +"I suppose that is it," said Maggie, lifting the tea-pot lid and looking +in. "At all events, it is the sort of answer one might expect from you. +You are always hard on human nature." + +"I take it as I find it," replied Steinmetz, with a laugh, "but I do not +worry about it like some people. Now, Paul would like to alter the +course of the world." + +As he spoke he half turned toward Paul, as if suggesting that he should +give an opinion, and this little action had the effect of putting a stop +to the conversation. Maggie had plenty to say to Steinmetz, but toward +Paul her mental attitude was different. She was probably unaware of this +little fact. + +"There," she said, after a pause, "I have obeyed Etta's instructions. +She does not want us to begin, I suppose?" + +"No," replied Paul. "She will be down in a minute." + +"I hope the princess is not overtired," said Steinmetz, with a certain +formal politeness which seemed to accompany any mention of Etta's name. + +"Not at all, thank you," replied Etta herself, coming into the room at +that moment. She looked fresh and self-confident. "On the contrary, I am +full of energy and eagerness to explore the castle. One naturally takes +an interest in one's baronial halls." + +With this she walked slowly across to the window. She stood there +looking out, and every one in the room was watching. On looking for the +first time on the same view, a few moments earlier, Maggie had uttered a +little cry of surprise, and had then remained silent. Etta looked out of +the window and said nothing. It was a most singular out-look--weird, +uncouth, prehistoric, as some parts of the earth still are. The castle +was built on the edge of a perpendicular cliff. On this side it was +impregnable. Any object dropped from the breakfast-room window would +fall a clear two hundred feet to the brawling Oster River. The rock was +black, and shining like the topmost crags of an Alpine mountain where +snow and ice have polished the bare stone. Beyond and across the river +lay the boundless steppe--a sheet of virgin snow. + +Etta stood looking over this to the far horizon, where the white snow +and the gray sky softly merged into one. Her first remark was +characteristic, as first and last remarks usually are. + +"And as far as you can see is yours?" she asked. + +"Yes," answered Paul simply, with that calm which only comes with +hereditary possession. + +The observation attracted Steinmetz's attention. He went to another +window, and looked across the waste critically. + +"Four times as far as we can see is his," he said. + +Etta looked out slowly and comprehensively, absorbing it all like a +long, sweet drink. There was no hereditary calmness in her sense of +possession. + +"And where is Thors?" she asked. + +Paul stretched out his arm, pointing with a lean, steady finger: + +"It lies out there," he answered. + +Another of the little incidents that are only half forgotten. Some of +the persons assembled in that room remembered the pointing finger long +afterward. + +"It makes one feel very small," said Etta, turning to the +breakfast-table--"at no time a pleasant sensation. Do you know," she +said, after a little pause, "I think it probable that I shall become +very fond of Osterno, but I wish it was nearer to civilization." + +Paul looked pleased. Steinmetz had a queer expression on his face. +Maggie murmured something about one's surroundings making but little +difference to one's happiness, and the subject was wisely shelved. + +After breakfast Steinmetz withdrew. + +"Now," said Paul, "shall I show you the old place, you and Maggie?" + +Etta signified her readiness, but Maggie said that she had letters to +write, that Etta could show her the castle another time, when the men +were out shooting, perhaps. + +"But," said Etta, "I shall do it horribly badly. They are not my +ancestors, you know. I shall attach the stories to the wrong people, and +locate the ghost in the wrong room. You will be wise to take Paul's +guidance." + +"No, thank you," replied Maggie, quite firmly and frankly. "I feel +inclined to write; and the feeling is rare, so I must take advantage of +it." + +The girl looked at her cousin with something in her honest blue eyes +that almost amounted to wonder. Etta was always surprising her. There +was a whole gamut of feeling, an octave of callow, half-formed girlish +instincts, of which Etta seemed to be deprived. If she had ever had +them, no trace was left of their whilom presence. At first Maggie had +flatly refused to come to Russia. When Paul pressed her to do so, she +accepted with a sort of wonder. There was something which she did not +understand. + +The same instinct made her refuse now to accompany Paul and Etta over +their new home. Again Etta pressed her, showing her lack of some feeling +which Maggie indefinitely knew she ought to have had. This time Paul +made no sign. He added no word to Etta's persuasions, but stood gravely +looking at his wife. + +When the door had closed behind them, Maggie stood for some minutes by +the window looking out over the snow-clad plain, the rugged, broken +rocks beneath her. + +Then she turned to the writing-table. She resolutely took pen and paper, +but the least thing seemed to distract her attention--the coronet on the +note-paper cost her five minutes of far-off reflection. She took up the +pen again, and wrote "Dear Mother." + +The room grew darker. Maggie looked up. The snow had begun again. It was +driving past the window with a silent, purposeful monotony. The girl +drew the writing-case toward her. She examined the pen critically and +dipped it into the ink. But she added nothing to the two words already +written. + +The castle of Osterno is almost unique in the particular that one roof +covers the ancient and the modern buildings. The vast reception-rooms, +worthy of the name of state-rooms, adjoin the small stone-built +apartments of the fortress which Paul's ancestors held against the +Tartars. This grimmer side of the building Paul reserved to the last for +reasons of his own, and Etta's manifest delight in the grandeur of the +more modern apartments fully rewarded him. Here, again, that side of her +character manifested itself which has already been shown. She was +dazzled and exhilarated by the splendor of it all, and the immediate +effect was a feeling of affection toward the man to whom this belonged; +who was in act, if not in word, laying it at her feet. + +When they passed from the lofty rooms to the dimmer passages of the old +castle Etta's spirits visibly dropped, her interest slackened. He told +her of tragedies enacted in by-gone times--such ancient tales of violent +death and broken hearts as attach themselves to gray stone walls and +dungeon keeps. She only half listened, for her mind was busy with the +splendors they had left behind, with the purposes to which such +splendors could be turned. And the sum total of her thoughts was +gratified vanity. + +Her bright presence awakened the gloom of ages within the dimly lit +historic rooms. Her laugh sounded strangely light and frivolous and +shallow in the silence of the ages which had brooded within these walls +since the days of Tamerlane. It was perhaps the greatest tragedy of the +Alexis family, this beautiful tragedy that walked by the side of Paul. + +"I am glad your grandfather brought French architects here and built the +modern side," she said. "These rooms are, of course, very interesting, +but gloomy--horribly gloomy, Paul. There is a smell of ghosts and +dulness." + +"All the same, I like these rooms," answered Paul. "Steinmetz and I used +to live entirely on this side of the house. This is the smoking-room. We +shot those bears, and all the deer. That is a wolf's head. He killed a +keeper before I finished him off." + +Etta looked at her husband with a curious little smile. She sometimes +felt proud of him, despite the ever present knowledge that, +intellectually speaking, she was his superior. There was something +strong and simple and manly in a sort of mediaeval way that pleased her +in this big husband of hers. + +"And how did you finish him off?" she asked. + +"I choked him. That bear knocked me down, but Steinmetz shot him. We +were four days out in the open after that elk. This is a lynx--a queer +face--rather like De Chauxville; the dogs killed him." + +"But why do you not paper the room," asked Etta, with a shiver, "instead +of this gloomy panelling? It is so mysterious and creepy. Quite +suggestive of secret passages." + +"There are no secret passages," answered Paul. "But there is a room +behind here. This is the door. I will show it to you presently. I have +things in there I want to show you. I keep all my medicines and +appliances in there. It is our secret surgery and office. In that room +the Charity League was organized." + +Etta turned away suddenly and went to the narrow window, where she sat +on a low window-seat, looking down into the snow-clad depths. + +"I did not know you were a doctor," she said. + +"I doctor the peasants," replied Paul, "in a rough-and-ready way. I took +my degree on purpose. But, of course, they do not know that it is I; +they think I am a doctor from Moscow. I put on an old coat, and wear a +scarf, so that they cannot see my face. I only go to them at night. It +would never do for the Government to know that we attempt to do good to +the peasants. We have to keep it a secret even from the people +themselves. And they hate us. They groan and hoot when we drive through +the village. But they never attempt to do us any harm; they are too much +afraid of us." + +When Etta rose and came toward him her face was colorless. + +"Let me see this room," she said. + +He opened the door and followed her into the apartment, which has +already been described. Here he told further somewhat bald details of +the work he had attempted to do. It is to be feared that he made neither +an interesting nor a romantic story of it. There were too many +details--too much statistic, and no thrilling realism whatever. The +experiences of a youthful curate in Bethnal Green would have made high +tragedy beside the tale that this man told his wife of the land upon +which God has assuredly laid His curse--Aceldama, the field of blood. + +Etta listened, and despite herself she became interested. She was +sitting in a chair usually occupied by Steinmetz. There was a faint +aroma of tobacco-smoke. The atmosphere of the room was manly and +energetic. + +Paul showed her his simple stores of medicine--the old coat saturated +with disinfectants which had become the recognized outward sign of the +Moscow doctor. + +"And do other people, other noblemen, try to do this sort of thing too?" +asked Etta at length. + +"Catrina Lanovitch does," replied Paul. + +"What? The girl with the hair?" + +"Yes," answered Paul. He had never noticed Catrina's hair. Etta's +appraising eye had seen more in one second than Paul had perceived in +twenty years. + +"Yes," he answered. "But, of course, she is handicapped." + +"By her appearance?" + +"No; by her circumstances. Her name is sufficient to handicap her every +moment in this country. But she does a great deal. She--she found me +out, confound her!" + +Etta had risen; she was looking curiously at the cupboard where Paul's +infected clothes were hanging. He had forbidden her to go near it. She +turned and looked at him. + +"Found you out! How?" she asked, with a queer smile. + +"Saw through my disguise." + +"Yes--she would do that!" said Etta aloud to herself. + +"What is this door?" she asked, after a pause. + +"It leads to an inner room," replied Paul, "where Steinmetz usually +works." + +He passed in front of her and opened the door. As he was doing so Etta +went on in the train of her thoughts: + +"So Catrina knows?" + +"Yes." + +"And no one else?" + +Paul made no answer; for he had passed on into the smaller room, where +Steinmetz was seated at a writing-table. + +"Except, of course, Herr Steinmetz?" Etta went on interrogatively. + +"Madame," said the German, looking up with his pleasant smile, "I know +_every thing_." + +And he went on writing. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +BLOODHOUNDS + +The table d'hôte of the Hôtel de Moscou at Tver had just begun. The soup +had been removed; the diners were engaged in igniting their first +cigarette at the candles placed between each pair of them for that +purpose. By nature the modern Russian is a dignified and somewhat +reserved gentleman. By circumstance he has been schooled into a state of +guarded unsociability. If there is a seat at a public table conveniently +removed from those occupied by earlier arrivals the new-comer invariably +takes it. In Russia one converses--as in Scotland one jokes--with +difficulty. + +A Russian table d'hôte is therefore any thing but hilarious in its +tendency. A certain number of grave-faced gentlemen and a few +broad-jowled ladies are visibly constrained by the force of circumstance +to dine at the same table and hour, et voilà tout. There is no pretence +that any more sociable and neighborly motive has brought them together. +Indeed, they each suspect the other of being a German, or a Nihilist, +or, worse still, a Government servant. They therefore sit as far apart +as possible, and smoke cigarettes between and during the courses with +that self-centred absorption which would be rude, if it were not +entirely satisfactory, to the average Briton. The ladies, of course, +have the same easy method of showing a desire for silence and reflection +in a country where nurses carrying infants usually smoke in the streets, +and where a dainty confectioner's assistant places her cigarette between +her lips in order to leave her hands free for the service of her +customers. + +The table d'hôte of the Hôtel de Moscou at Tver was no exception to the +general rule. In Russia, by the way, there are no exceptions to general +rules. The personal habits of the native of Cronstadt differ in no way +from those of the Czar's subject living in Petropavlovsk, eight thousand +miles away. + +Around the long table of the host were seated, at respectable intervals, +a dozen or more gentlemen, who gazed stolidly at each other from time to +time, while the host himself smiled broadly upon them all from that end +of the room where the lift and the smell of cooking exercise their +calling--the one to spoil the appetite, the other to pander to it when +spoilt. + +Of these dozen gentlemen we have only to deal with one--a man of broad, +high forehead, of colorless eyes, of a mask-like face, who consumed what +was put before him with as little noise as possible. Known in Paris as +"Ce bon Vassili," this traveller. But in Paris one does not always use +the word bon in its English sense of "good." + +M. Vassili was evidently desirous of attracting as little attention as +circumstances would allow. He was obviously doing his best to look like +one who travelled in the interest of braid or buttons. Moreover, when +Claude de Chauxville entered the table d'hôte room, he concealed +whatever surprise he may have felt behind a cloud of cigarette smoke. +Through the same blue haze he met the Frenchman's eye, a moment later, +without the faintest twinkle of recognition. + +These two worthies went through the weird courses provided by a cook +professing a knowledge of French _cuisine_ without taking any +compromising notice of each other. When the meal was over Vassili +inscribed the number of his bedroom in large figures on the label of his +bottle of St. Emilion--after the manner of wise commercial-travellers in +continental hotels. He subsequently turned the bottle round so that +Claude de Chauxville could scarcely fail to read the number, and with a +vague and general bow he left the room. + +In his apartment the genial Vassili threw more wood into the stove, drew +forward the two regulation arm-chairs, and lighted all the candles +provided. He then rang the bell and ordered liqueurs. There was +evidently something in the nature of an entertainment about to take +place in apartment No. 44 of the Hôtel de Moscou. + +Before long a discreet knock announced the arrival of the expected +visitor. + +"Entrez!" cried Vassili; and De Chauxville stood before him, with a +smile which in French is called crâne. + +"A pleasure," said Vassili, behind his wooden face, "that I did not +anticipate in Tver." + +"And consequently one that carries its own mitigation. An unanticipated +pleasure, mon ami, is always inopportune. I make no doubt that you were +sorry to see me." + +"On the contrary. Will you sit?" + +"I can hardly believe," went on De Chauxville, taking the proffered +chair, "that my appearance was opportune--on the principle, ha! ha! that +a flower growing out of place is a weed. Gentlemen of the--eh--Home +Office prefer, I know, to travel quietly!" He spread out his expressive +hands as if smoothing the path of M. Vassili through this stony world. +"Incognito," he added guilelessly. + +"One does not publish one's name from the housetops," replied the +Russian, with a glimmer of pride in his eyes, "especially if it happen +to be not quite obscure; but between friends, my dear baron--between +friends." + +"Yes. Then what are you doing in Tver?" enquired De Chauxville, with +engaging frankness. + +"Ah, that is a long story. But I will tell you--never fear--I will tell +you on the usual terms." + +"Viz?" enquired the Frenchman, lighting a cigarette. + +Vassili accepted the match with a bow, and did likewise. He blew a +guileless cloud of smoke toward the dingy ceiling. + +"Exchange, my dear baron, exchange." + +"Oh, certainly," replied De Chauxville, who knew that Vassili was in all +probability fully informed as to his movements past and prospective. "I +am going to visit some old friends in this Government--the Lanovitches, +at Thors." + +"Ah!" + +"You know them?" + +Vassili raised his shoulders and made a little gesture with his +cigarette, as much as to say, "Why ask?" + +De Chauxville looked at his companion keenly. He was wondering whether +this man knew that he--Claude de Chauxville--loved Etta Howard Alexis, +and consequently hated her husband. He was wondering how much or how +little this impenetrable individual knew and suspected. + +"I have always said," observed Vassili suddenly, "that for unmitigated +impertinence give me a diplomatist." + +"Ah! And what would you desire that I should, for the same commodity, +give you now?" + +"A woman." + +There was a short silence in the room while these two birds of a feather +reflected. + +Suddenly Vassili tapped himself on the chest with his forefinger. + +"It was I," he said, "who crushed that very dangerous movement--the +Charity League." + +"I know it." + +"A movement, my dear baron, to educate the moujik, if you please. To +feed him and clothe him, and teach him--to be discontented with his lot. +To raise him up and make a man of him. Pah! He is a beast. Let him be +treated as such. Let him work. If he will not work, let him starve and +die." + +"The man who cannot contribute toward the support of those above him in +life is superfluous," said De Chauxville glibly. + +"Precisely. Now, my dear baron, listen to me!" The genial Vassili leaned +forward and tapped with one finger on the knee of De Chauxville, as if +knocking at the door of his attention. + +"I am all ears, mon bon monsieur," replied the Frenchman, rather coldly. +He had just been reflecting that, after all, he did not want any favor +from Vassili for the moment, and the manner of the latter was verging on +the familiar. + +"The woman--who--sold--me--the Charity League papers dined at my house +in Paris--a fortnight ago," said Vassili, with a staccato tap on his +companion's knee by way of emphasis to each word. + +"Then, my friend, I cannot--congratulate--you--on the society--in--which +you move," replied De Chauxville, mimicking his manner. + +"Bah! She was a princess!" + +"A princess?" + +"Yes, of your acquaintance, M. le Baron! And she came to my house with +her--eh--husband--the Prince Paul Howard Alexis." + +This was news indeed. De Chauxville leaned back and passed his slim +white hand across his brow with a slow pressure, as if wiping some +writing from a slate--as if his forehead bore the writing of his +thoughts and he was wiping it away. And the thoughts he thus +concealed--who can count them? For thoughts are the quickest and the +longest and the saddest things of this life. The first thought was that +if he had known this three months earlier he could have made Etta marry +him. And that thought had a thousand branches. With Etta for his wife he +might have been a different man. One can never tell what the effect of +an acquired desire may be. One can only judge by analogy, and it would +seem that it is a frustrated desire that makes the majority of villains. + +But the news coming, thus too late, only served an evil purpose. For in +that flash of thought Claude de Chauxville saw Paul's secrets given to +him; Paul's wealth meted out to him; Paul in exile; Paul dead in +Siberia, where death comes easily; Paul's widow Claude de Chauxville's +wife. He wiped all the thoughts away, and showed to Vassili a face that +was as composed and impertinent as usual. + +"You said 'her--eh--husband,'" he observed. "Why? Why did you add that +little 'eh,' my friend?" + +Vassili rose and walked to the door that led through into his bedroom +from the salon in which they were sitting. It was possible to enter the +bedroom from another door and overhear any conversation that might be +passing in the sitting-room. The investigation was apparently +satisfactory, for the Russian came back. But he did not sit down. +Instead, he stood leaning against the tall china stove. + +"Needless to tell you," he observed, "the antecedents of the--princess." + +"Quite needless." + +"Married seven years ago to Charles Sydney Bamborough," promptly giving +the unnecessary information which was not wanted. + +De Chauxville nodded. + +"Where is Sydney Bamborough?" asked Vassili, with his mask-like smile. + +"Dead," replied the other quietly. + +"Prove it." + +De Chauxville looked up sharply. The cigarette dropped from his fingers +to the floor. His face was yellow and drawn, with a singular tremble of +the lips, which were twisted to one side. + +"Good God!" he whispered hoarsely. + +There was only one thought in his mind--a sudden wild desire to rise up +and stand by Etta against the whole world. Verily we cannot tell what +love may make of us, whither it may lead us. We only know that it never +leaves us as it found us. + +Then, leaning quietly against the stove, Vassili stated his case. + +"Rather more than a year ago," he said, "I received an offer of the +papers connected with a great scheme in this country. After certain +enquiries had been made I accepted the offer. I paid a fabulous price +for the papers. They were brought to me by a lady wearing a thick +veil--a lady I had never seen before. I asked no questions, and paid her +the money. It subsequently transpired that the papers had been stolen, +as you perhaps know, from the house of Count Stépan Lanovitch--the house +to which you happen to be going--at Thors. Well, that is all ancient +history. It is to be supposed that the papers were stolen by Sydney +Bamborough, who brought them here--probably to this hotel, where his +wife was staying. He handed her the papers, and she conveyed them to me +in Paris. But before she reached Petersburg they would have been missed +by Stépan Lanovitch, who would naturally suspect the man who had been +staying in his house, Bamborough--a man with a doubtful reputation in +the diplomatic world, a professed doer of dirty jobs. Foreseeing this, +and knowing that the League was a big thing, with a few violent members +on its books, Sydney Bamborough did not attempt to leave Russia by the +western route. He probably decided to go through Nijni, down the Volga, +across the Caspian, and so on to Persia and India. You follow me?" + +"Perfectly!" answered De Chauxville coldly. + +"I have been here a week," went on the Russian spy, "making enquiries. I +have worked the whole affair out, link by link, till the evening when +the husband and wife parted. She went west with the papers. Where did he +go?" + +De Chauxville picked up the cigarette, looked at it curiously, as at a +relic--the relic of the moment of strongest emotion through which he had +ever passed--and threw it into the ash-tray. He did not speak, and +after a moment Vassili went on, stating his case with lawyer-like +clearness. + +"A body was found on the steppe," he said; "the body of a middle-aged +man dressed as a small commercial traveller would dress. He had a little +money in his pocket, but nothing to identify him. He was buried here in +Tver by the police, who received their information by an anonymous +post-card posted in Tver. The person who had found the body did not want +to be implicated in any enquiry. Now, who found the body? Who was the +dead man? Mrs. Sydney Bamborough has assumed that the dead man was her +husband; on the strength of that assumption she has become a princess. A +frail foundation upon which to build up her fortunes, eh?" + +"How did she know that the body had been found?" asked De Chauxville, +perceiving the weak point in his companion's chain of argument. + +"It was reported shortly in the local newspapers," replied Vassili, "and +repeated in one or two continental journals, as the police were of +opinion that the man was a foreigner. Any one watching the newspapers +would see it--otherwise the incident might pass unobserved." + +"And you think," said De Chauxville, suppressing his excitement with an +effort, "that the lady has risked every thing upon a supposition?" + +"Knowing the lady, I do." + +De Chauxville's dull eyes gleamed for a moment with an unwonted light. +All the civilization of the ages will not eradicate the primary +instincts of men--and one of these, in good and bad alike, is to protect +women. The Frenchman bit the end of his cigarette, and angrily wiped the +tobacco from his lips. + +"She may have information of which you are ignorant," he suggested. + +"Precisely. It is that particular point which gives me trouble at the +present moment. It is that that I wish to discover." + +De Chauxville looked up coolly. He saw his advantage. + +"Hence your sudden flow of communicativeness?" he said. + +Vassili nodded. + +"You cannot find out for yourself, so you seek my help?" went on the +Frenchman. + +Again the Russian nodded his head. + +"And your price?" said De Chauxville, drawing in his feet and leaning +forward, apparently to study the pattern of the carpet. The action +concealed his face. He was saving Etta, and he was ashamed of himself. + +"When you have the information you may name your own price," said the +Russian coldly. + +There was a long silence. Before speaking De Chauxville turned and took +a glass of liqueur from the table. His hand was not quite steady. He +raised the glass quickly and emptied it. Then he rose and looked at his +watch. The silence was a compact. + +"When the lady dined with you in Paris, did she recognize you?" he +asked. + +"Yes; but she did not know that I recognized her." + +For the moment they both overlooked Steinmetz. + +De Chauxville stood reflecting. + +"And your theory," he said, "respecting Sydney Bamborough--what is it?" + +"If he got away to Nijni and the Volga, it is probable that he is in +Eastern Siberia or in Persia at this moment. He has not had time to get +right across Asia yet." + +De Chauxville moved toward the door. With his fingers on the handle he +paused again. + +"I leave early to-morrow morning," he said. + +Vassili nodded, or rather he bowed, in his grand way. + +Then De Chauxville went out of the room. They did not shake hands. There +is sometimes shame among thieves. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +IN THE WEB + +"What I propose is that Catrina takes you for a drive, my dear baron, +with her two ponies." + +The countess had taken very good care to refrain from making this +proposal to Catrina alone. She was one of those mothers who rule their +daughters by springing surprises upon them in a carefully selected +company where the daughter is not free to reply. + +De Chauxville bowed with outspread hands. + +"If it will not bore mademoiselle," he replied. + +The countess looked at her daughter with an unctuous smile, as if to +urge her on to make the most of this opportunity. It was one of the +countess's chief troubles that she could not by hook or crook involve +Catrina in any sort of a love intrigue. She was the sort of mother who +would have preferred to hear scandal about her daughter to hearing +nothing. + +"If it will not freeze monsieur," replied Catrina, with uncompromising +honesty. + +De Chauxville laughed in his frank way. + +"I am not afraid of coldness--of the atmosphere, mademoiselle," he +replied. "I am most anxious to see your beautiful country. It was quite +dark during the last hour of my journey last night, and I had +snow-sleepiness. I saw nothing." + +"You will see nothing but snow," said Catrina. + +"Which is like the reserve of a young girl," added the Frenchman. "It +keeps warm that which is beneath it." + +"You need not be afraid with Catrina," chimed in the countess, nodding +and becking in a manner that clearly showed her assumption to herself of +some vague compliment. "She drives beautifully. She is not nervous in +that way. I have never seen any one drive like her." + +"I have no doubt," said De Chauxville, "that mademoiselle's hands are +firm, despite their diminutiveness." + +The countess was charmed--and showed it. She frowned at Catrina, who +remained grave and looked at the clock. + +"When would you like to go?" she asked De Chauxville, with that complete +absence of affectation which the Russian, of all women of the world, +alone have mastered in their conversation with men. + +"Am I not at your service--now and always?" responded the gallant baron. + +"I hope not," replied Catrina quietly. "There are occasions when I have +no use for you. Shall we say eleven o'clock?" + +"With pleasure. Then I will go and write my letters now," said the +baron, quitting the room. + +"A charming man!" ejaculated the countess, before the door was well +closed. + +"A fool!" corrected Catrina. + +"I do not think you can say that, dear," sighed the countess, more in +sorrow than in anger. + +"A clever one," answered Catrina. "There is a difference. The clever +ones are the worst." + +The countess shrugged her shoulders hopelessly, and Catrina left the +room. She went upstairs to her own little den, where the piano stood. It +was the only room in the house that was not too warm, for here the +window was occasionally opened--a proceeding which the countess +considered scarcely short of criminal. + +Catrina began to play, feverishly, nervously, with all the weird force +of her nature. She was like a very sick person seeking a desperate +remedy--racing against time. It was her habit to take her breaking heart +thus to the great masters, to interpret their thoughts in their music, +welding their melodies to the needs of her own sorrow. She only had half +an hour. Of late music had failed her a little. It had not given her the +comfort she had usually extracted from solitude and the piano. She was +in a dangerous humor. She was afraid of trusting herself to De +Chauxville. The time fled, and her humor did not change. She was still +playing when the door opened, and the countess stood before her flushed +and angry, either or both being the effect of stairs upon emotion. + +"Catrina!" the elder lady exclaimed. "The sleigh is at the door, and the +count is waiting. I cannot tell what you are thinking of. It is not +every-body who would be so attentive to you. Just look at your hair. Why +can't you dress like other girls?" + +"Because I am not made like other girls," replied Catrina--and who knows +what bitterness of reproach there was in such an answer from daughter to +mother? + +"Hush, child," replied the countess, whose anger usually took the form +of personal abuse. "You are as the good God made you." + +"Then the good God must have made me in the dark," cried Catrina, +flinging out of the room. + +"She will be down directly," said the Countess Lanovitch to De +Chauxville, whom she found smoking a cigarette in the hall. "She +naturally--he! he!--wishes to make a careful toilet." + +De Chauxville bowed gravely, without committing himself to any +observation, and offered her a cigarette, which she accepted. Having +achieved his purpose, he did not now propose to convey the impression +that he admired Catrina. + +In a few moments the girl appeared, drawing on her fur gloves. Before +the door was opened the countess discreetly retired to the enervating +warmth of her own apartments. + +Catrina gathered up the reins and gave a little cry, at which the ponies +leaped forward, and in a whirl of driven snow the sleigh glided off +between the pines. + +At first there was no opportunity of conversation, for the ponies were +fresh and troublesome. The road over which they were passing had not +been beaten down by the passage of previous sleighs, so that the powdery +snow rose up like dust, and filled the eyes and mouth. + +"It will be better presently," gasped Catrina, wrestling with her +fractious little Tartar thoroughbreds, "when we get out on to the +high-road." + +De Chauxville sat quite still. If he felt any misgiving as to her power +of mastering her team he kept it to himself. There was a subtle +difference in his manner toward Catrina when they were alone together, a +suggestion of camaraderie, of a common interest and a common desire, of +which she was conscious without being able to put definite meaning to +it. + +It annoyed and alarmed her. While giving her full attention to the +management of the sleigh, she was beginning to dread the first words of +this man, who was merely wielding a cheap power acquired in the shady +course of his career. There is nothing so disarming as the assumed air +of intimate knowledge of one's private thoughts and actions. De +Chauxville assumed this air with a skill against which Catrina's dogged +strength of character was incapable of battling. His manner conveyed the +impression that he knew more of Catrina's inward thoughts than any other +living being, and she was simple enough to be frightened into the +conclusion that she had betrayed herself to him. There is no simpler +method of discovering a secret than to ignore its existence. + +It is possible that De Chauxville became aware of Catrina's sidelong +glances of anxiety in his direction. He may have divined that silence +was more effective than speech. + +He sat looking straight in front of him, as if too deeply absorbed in +his own thoughts to take even a passing interest in the scenery. + +"Why did you come here?" asked Catrina suddenly. + +De Chauxville seemed to awake from a revery. He turned and looked at her +in assumed surprise. They were on the high-road now, where the snow was +beaten down, so conversation was easy. + +"But--to see you, mademoiselle." + +"I am not _that_ sort of girl," answered Catrina coldly. "I want the +truth." + +De Chauxville gave a short laugh and looked at her. + +"Prophets and kings have sought the truth, mademoiselle, and have not +found it," he said lightly. + +Catrina made no answer to this. Her ponies required considerable +attention. Also, there are some minds like large banking houses--not +dealing in small change. That which passes in or out of such minds has +its own standard of importance. Such people are not of much use in these +days, when we like to touch things lightly, adorning a tale but pointing +no moral. + +"I would ask you to believe that your society was one incentive to make +me accept the countess's kind hospitality," the Frenchman observed after +a pause. + +"And?" + +De Chauxville looked at her. He had not met many women of solid +intellect. + +"And?" repeated Catrina. + +"I have others, of course." + +Catrina gave a little nod and waited. + +"I wish to be near Alexis," added De Chauxville. + +Catrina was staring straight in front of her. Her face had acquired a +habit of hardening at the mention of Paul's name. It was stone-like now, +and set. Perhaps she might have forgiven him if he had loved her once, +if only for a little while. She might have forgiven him, if only for the +remembrance of that little while. But Paul had always been a man of set +purpose, and such men are cruel. Even for her sake, even for the sake of +his own vanity, he had never pretended to love Catrina. He had never +mistaken gratified vanity for dawning love, as millions of men do. Or +perhaps he was without vanity. Some few men are so constructed. + +"Do you love him so?" asked Catrina, with a grim smile distorting her +strong face. + +"As much as you, mademoiselle," replied De Chauxville. + +Catrina started. She was not sure that she hated Paul. Toward Etta, +there was no mistake in her feeling, and this was so strong that, like +an electric current, there was enough of it to pass through the wife and +reach the husband. + +Passion, like character, does not grow in crowded places. In great +cities men are all more or less alike. It is only in solitary abodes +that strong natures grow up in their own way. Catrina had grown to +womanhood in one of the solitary places of the earth. She had no facile +axiom, no powerful precedent, to guide her every step through life. The +woman who was in daily contact with her was immeasurably beneath her in +mental power, in force of character, in those possibilities of love or +hatred which go to make a strong life for good or for evil. By the side +of her daughter the Countess Lanovitch was as the willow, swayed by +every wind, in the neighborhood of the oak, crooked and still and +strong. + +"In Petersburg you pledged yourself to help me," said De Chauxville. And +although she knew that in the letter this was false, she did not +contradict him. "I came here to claim fulfilment of your promise." + +The hard blue eyes beneath the fur cap stared straight in front of them. +Catrina seemed to be driving like one asleep, for she noted nothing by +the roadside. So far as eye could reach over the snow-clad plain, +through the silent pines, these two were alone in a white, dead world of +their own. Catrina never drove with bells. There was no sound beyond the +high-pitched drone of the steel runners over the powdery snow. They were +alone; unseen, unheard save of that Ear that listens in the waste places +of the world. + +"What do you want me to do?" she asked. + +"Oh, not very much!" answered De Chauxville--a cautious man, who knew a +woman's humor. Catrina driving a pair of ponies in the clear, sharp air +of Central Russia, and Catrina playing the piano in the enervating, +flower-scented atmosphere of a drawing-room, were two different women. +De Chauxville was not the man to mistake the one for the other. + +"Not very much, mademoiselle," he answered. "I should like Mme. la +Comtesse to invite the whole Osterno party to dine, and sleep, perhaps, +if one may suggest it." + +Catrina wanted this too. She wanted to torture herself with the sight of +Etta, beautiful, self-confident, carelessly cognizant of Paul's love. +She wanted to see Paul look at his wife with the open admiration which +she had set down as something else than love--something immeasurably +beneath love as Catrina understood that passion. Her soul, brooding +under a weight of misery, was ready to welcome any change, should it +only mean a greater misery. + +"I can manage that," she said, "if they will come. It was a prearranged +matter that there should be a bear-hunt in our forests." + +"That will do," answered De Chauxville reflectively; "in a few days, +perhaps, if it suits the countess." + +Catrina made no reply. After a pause she spoke again, in her strange, +jerky way. + +"What will you gain by it?" she asked. + +De Chauxville shrugged his shoulders. + +"Who knows?" he answered. "There are many things I want to know; many +questions which can be answered only by one's own observation. I want to +see them together. Are they happy?" + +Catrina's face hardened. + +"If there is a God in heaven, and he hears our prayers, they ought not +to be," she replied curtly. + +"She looked happy enough in Petersburg," said the Frenchman, who never +told the truth for its own sake. Whenever he thought that Catrina's +hatred needed stimulation he mentioned Etta's name. + +"There are other questions in my mind," he went on, "some of which you +can answer, mademoiselle, if you care to." + +Catrina's face expressed no great willingness to oblige. + +"The Charity League," said De Chauxville, looking at her keenly; "I have +always had a feeling of curiosity respecting it. Was, for instance, our +friend the Prince Pavlo implicated in that unfortunate affair?" + +Catrina flushed suddenly. She did not take her eyes from the ponies. She +was conscious of the unwonted color in her cheeks, which was slowly +dying away beneath her companion's relentless gaze. + +"You need not trouble to reply, mademoiselle," said De Chauxville, with +his dark smile; "I am answered." + +Catrina pulled the ponies up with a jerk, and proceeded to turn their +willing heads toward home. She was alarmed and disturbed. Nothing seemed +to be safe from the curiosity of this man, no secret secure, no +prevarication of the slightest avail. + +"There are other questions in my mind," said De Chauxville quietly, "but +not now. Mademoiselle is no doubt tired." + +He leaned back, and when at length he spoke it was to give utterance to +the trite commonplace of which he made a conversational study. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +IN THE CASTLE OF THORS + +A week later Catrina, watching from the window of her own small room, +saw Paul lift Etta from the sleigh, and the sight made her clench her +hands until the knuckles shone like polished ivory. + +She turned and looked at herself in the mirror. No one knew how she had +tried one dress after another since luncheon, alone in her two rooms, +having sent her maid down stairs. No one knew the bitterness in this +girl's heart as she contemplated her own reflection. + +She went slowly down stairs to the long, dimly lighted drawing-room. As +she entered she heard her mother's cackling voice. + +"Yes, princess," the countess was saying, "it is a quaint old house; +little more than a fortified farm, I know. But my husband's family were +always strange. They seem always to have ignored the little comforts and +elegancies of life." + +"It is most interesting," answered Etta's voice, and Catrina stepped +forward into the light. + +Formal greetings were exchanged, and Catrina saw Etta look anxiously +toward the door through which she had just come. She thought that she +was looking for her husband. But it was Claude de Chauxville for whose +appearance Etta was waiting. + +Paul and Steinmetz entered at the same moment by another door, and +Catrina, who was talking to Maggie in English, suddenly stopped. + +"Ah, Catrina," said Paul, "we have broken new ground for you. There was +no track from here to Osterno through the forest. I made one this +afternoon, so you have no excuse for remaining away, now." + +"Thank you," answered Catrina, withdrawing her cold hand hurriedly from +his friendly grasp. + +"Miss Delafield," went on Paul, "admires our country as much as you do." + +"I was just telling mademoiselle," said Maggie, speaking French with an +honest English accent. + +Paul nodded, and left them together. + +"Yes," the countess was saying at the other end of the gloomy room; +"yes, we are greatly attached to Thors: Catrina, perhaps, more than I. I +have some happy associations, and many sorrowful ones. But then--mon +Dieu!--how isolated we are!" + +"It is rather far from--anywhere," acceded Etta, who was not attending, +although she appeared to be interested. + +"Far! Princess, I often wonder how Paris and Thors can be in the same +world! Before our--our troubles we used to live in Paris a portion of +the year. At least I did, while my poor husband travelled about. He had +a hobby, you know, poor man! Humanity was his hobby. I have always found +that men who seek to do good to their fellows are never thanked. Have +you noticed that? The human race is not grateful en gros. There is a +little gratitude in the individual, but none in the race." + +"None," answered Etta absently. + +"It was so with the Charity League," went on the countess volubly. She +paused and looked round with her feeble eyes. + +"We are all friends," she went on; "so it is safe to mention the Charity +League, is it not?" + +"No," answered Steinmetz from the fire-place; "no, madame. There is only +one friend to whom you may safely mention that." + +"Ah! Bad example!" exclaimed the countess playfully. "You are there! I +did not see you enter. And who is that friend?" + +"The fair lady who looks at you from your mirror," replied Steinmetz, +with a face of stone. + +The countess laughed and shook her cap to one side. + +"Well," she said, "I can do no harm in talking of such things, as I know +nothing of them. My poor husband--my poor mistaken Stépan--placed no +confidence in his wife. And now he is in Siberia. I believe he works in +a bootmaker's shop. I pity the people who wear the boots; but perhaps he +only puts in the laces. You hear, Paul? He placed no confidence in his +wife, and now he is in Siberia. Let that be a warning to you--eh, +princess? I hope he tells you everything." + +"Put not your trust in princesses," said Steinmetz from the hearth-rug, +where he was still warming his hands, for he had driven Maggie over. "It +says so in the Bible." + +"Princes, profane one!" exclaimed the countess with a laugh--"princes, +not princesses!" + +"It may be so. I bow to your superior literary attainments," replied +Steinmetz, looking casually and significantly at a pile of yellow-backed +foreign novels on a side-table. + +"No," the countess went on, addressing her conversation to Etta; "no, my +husband--figure to yourself, princess--told me nothing. I never knew +that he was implicated in this great scheme. I do not know now who else +was concerned in it. It was all so sudden, so unexpected, so terrible. +It appears that he kept the papers in this very house--in that room +through there. It was his study--" + +"My dear countess, silence!" interrupted Steinmetz at this moment, +breaking into the conversation in his masterful way and enabling Etta to +get away. Catrina, at the other end of the room, was listening, +hard-eyed, breathless. It was the sight of Catrina's face that made +Steinmetz go forward. He had not been looking at Catrina, but at Etta, +who was perfect in her composure and steady self-control. + +"Do you want to enter the boot trade also?" asked Steinmetz cheerfully, +in a lowered voice. + +"Heaven forbid!" cried the countess. + +"Then let us talk of safer things." + +The short twilight was already brooding over the land. The room, lighted +only by small square windows, grew darker and darker until Catrina rang +for lamps. + +"I hate a dark room," she said shortly to Maggie. + +When De Chauxville came in, a few minutes later, Catrina was at the +piano. The room was brilliantly lighted, and on the table gleamed and +glittered the silver tea-things. The intermediate meal had been disposed +of, but the samovar had been left alight, as is the habit at Russian +afternoon teas. + +Catrina looked up when the Frenchman entered, but did not cease playing. + +"There is no need for introductions, I think," said the countess. + +"We all know M. de Chauxville," replied Paul quietly, and the two men +exchanged a glance. + +De Chauxville shook hands with the new-comers, and, while the countess +prepared tea for him, launched into a long description of the +preparations for the bear-hunt of the following day. He addressed his +remarks exclusively to Paul, as between enthusiasts and +fellow-sportsmen. Gradually Paul thawed a little, and made one or two +suggestions which betrayed a deep knowledge and a dawning interest. + +"We shall only be three rifles," said De Chauxville, "Steinmetz, you, +and I; and I must ask you to bear in mind the fact that I am no shot--a +mere amateur, my dear prince. The countess has been good enough to leave +the whole matter in my hands. I have seen the keepers, and I have +arranged that they come to-night at eleven o'clock to see us and to +report progress. They know of three bears, and are attempting to ring +them." + +The Frenchman was really full of information and enthusiasm. There were +many details upon which he required Paul's advice, and the two men +talked together with less constraint than they had hitherto done. De +Chauxville had picked up a vast deal of technical matter, and handled +his little knowledge with a skill which bade fair to deprive it of its +proverbial danger. He presently left Steinmetz and the prince engaged in +a controversy with the countess as to a meeting-place at the +luncheon-hour. + +Maggie and Catrina were at the piano. Etta was looking at a book of +photographs. + +"A charming house, princess," said De Chauxville, in a voice that all +could hear while the music happened to be soft. But Catrina's music was +more remarkable for strength than for softness. + +"Charming," replied Etta. + +The music rose into a swelling burst of harmonious chords. + +"I must see you, princess," said De Chauxville. + +Etta glanced across the room toward her husband and Steinmetz. + +"Alone," added the Frenchman coolly. + +Etta turned a page of the album and looked critically into a photograph. + +"Must!" she said, with a little frown. + +"Must!" repeated De Chauxville. + +"A word I do not care about," said Etta, with raised eyebrows. + +The music was soft again. + +"It is ten years since I held a rifle," said De Chauxville. "Ah, madame, +you do not know the excitement. I pity ladies, for they have no +sport--no big game." + +"Personally, monsieur," answered Etta, with a bright laugh, "I do not +grudge you your big game. Suppose you miss the bear, or whatever it may +be?" + +"Then," said De Chauxville, with a brave shrug of the shoulders, "it is +the turn of the bear. The excitement is his--the laugh is with him." + +Catrina's foot was upon the loud pedal again. + +"Nevertheless, madame," said De Chauxville, "I make so bold as to use +the word. You perhaps know me well enough to be aware that I am rarely +bold unless my ground is sure." + +"I should not boast of it," answered Etta; "there is nothing to be proud +of. It is easy enough to be bold if you are certain of victory." + +"When defeat would be intolerable, even a certain victory requires care! +And I cannot afford to lose." + +"Lose what?" enquired Etta. + +De Chauxville looked at her, but he did not answer. The music was soft +again. + +"I suppose that at Osterno you set no value upon a bear-skin," he said +after a pause. + +"We have many," admitted Etta. "But I love fur, or trophies of any +description. Paul has killed a great deal." + +"Ah!" + +"Yes," answered Etta, and the music rose again. "I should like to know," +she went on, "upon what assumption you make use of a word which does not +often--annoy me." + +"I have a good memory, madame. Besides," he paused, looking round the +room, "there are associations within these walls which stimulate the +memory." + +"What do you mean?" asked Etta, in a hard voice. The hand holding the +album suddenly shook like a leaf in the wind. + +De Chauxville had stood upright, his hand at his mustache, after the +manner of a man whose small-talk is exhausted. It would appear that he +was wondering how he could gracefully get away from the princess to pay +his devoirs elsewhere. + +"I cannot tell you now," he answered; "Catrina is watching us across the +piano. You must beware, madame, of those cold blue eyes." + +He moved away, going toward the piano, where Maggie was standing behind +Catrina's chair. He was like a woman, inasmuch as he could not keep away +from his failures. + +"Are you advanced, Miss Delafield?" he asked, with his deferential +little bow. "Are you modern?" + +"I am neither; I have no desire for even the cheapest form of notoriety. +Why do you ask?" replied Maggie. + +"I was merely wondering whether we were to count you among our rifles +to-morrow. One never knows what ladies will do next; not ladies--I +apologize--women. I suppose it is those who are not by birth ladies who +aspire to the proud name of women. The modern Woman--with a capital +W--is not a lady--n'est ce pas?" + +"She does not mind your abuse, monsieur," laughed Maggie. "So long as +you do not ignore her, she is happy. But you may set your mind at rest +as regards to-morrow. I have never let off a gun in my life, and I am +sensible enough not to begin on bears." + +De Chauxville made a suitable reply, and remained by the piano talking +to the two young ladies until Etta rose and came toward them. He then +crossed to the other side of the room and engaged Paul in the discussion +of further plans for the morrow. + +It was soon time to dress for dinner, and Etta was forced to forego the +opportunity she sought to exchange a word alone with De Chauxville. That +astute gentleman carefully avoided allowing her this opportunity. He +knew the value of a little suspense. + +During dinner and afterward, when at length the gentlemen came to the +drawing-room, the conversation was of a sporting tendency. Bears, +bear-hunting, and bear stories held supreme sway. More than once De +Chauxvilie returned to this subject. Twice he avoided Etta. + +In some ways this man was courageous. He delayed giving Etta her +opportunity until there was a question of retiring to bed in view of the +early start required by the next day's arrangements. It had been finally +settled that the three younger ladies should drive over to a woodman's +cottage at the far end of the forest, where luncheon was to be served. +While this item of the programme was arranged De Chauxville looked +straight at Etta across the table. + +At length she had the chance afforded to her, deliberately, by De +Chauxville. + +"What did you mean?" she asked at once. + +"I have received information which, had I known it three months ago, +would have made a difference in your life." + +"What difference?" + +"I should have been your husband, instead of that thick-headed giant." + +Etta laughed, but her lips were for the moment colorless. + +"When am I to see you alone?" + +Etta shrugged her shoulders. She had plenty of spirit. + +"Please do not be dramatic or mysterious; I am tired. Good-night." + +She rose and concealed a simulated yawn. + +De Chauxville looked at her with his sinister smile, and Etta suddenly +saw the resemblance which Paul had noted between this man and the +grinning mask of the lynx in the smoking-room at Osterno. + +"When?" repeated he. + +Etta shrugged her shoulders. + +"I wish to speak to you about the Charity League," said De Chauxville. + +Etta's eyes dilated. She made a step or two away from him, but she came +back. + +"I shall not go to the luncheon to-morrow, if you care to leave the hunt +early." + +De Chauxville bowed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +ANGLO-RUSSIAN + +At bedtime Catrina went to Maggie's room with her to see that she had +all that she could desire. A wood fire was burning brightly in the open +French stove; the room was lighted by lamps. It was warm and cheery. A +second door led to the little music-room which Catrina had made her own, +and beyond was her bedroom. + +Maggie had assured her hostess that she had every thing that she could +wish, and that she did not desire the services of Catrina's maid. But +the Russian girl still lingered. She was slow to make friends--not shy, +but diffident and suspicious. Her friendship once secured was a thing +worth possessing. She was inclined to bestow it upon this quiet, +self-contained English girl. In such matters the length of an +acquaintance goes for nothing. A long acquaintanceship does not +necessarily mean friendship--one being the result of circumstance, the +other of selection. + +"The princess knows Russian?" said Catrina suddenly. + +She was standing near the dressing-table, where she had been absently +attending to the candles. She wheeled round and looked at Maggie, who +was hospitably sitting on a low chair near the fire. She was sorry for +the loneliness of this girl's life. She did not want her to go away just +yet. There was another chair by the fire, inviting Catrina to indulge in +those maiden confidences which attach themselves to slippers and +hair-brushings. + +Maggie looked up with a smile which slowly ebbed away. Catrina's remark +was of the nature of a defiance. Her half-diffident rôle of hostess was +suddenly laid aside. + +"No; she does not," answered the English girl. + +Catrina came forward, standing over Maggie, looking down at her with +eyes full of antagonism. + +"Excuse me. I saw her understand a remark I made to one of the servants. +She was not careful. I saw it distinctly." + +"I think you must be mistaken," answered Maggie quietly. "She has been +in Russia before for a few weeks; but she did not learn the language. +She told me so herself. Why should she pretend not to know Russian, if +she does?" + +Catrina made no answer. She sat heavily down in the vacant chair. Her +attitudes were uncouth and strong--a perpetual source of tribulation to +the countess. She sat with her elbow on her knee, staring into the fire. + +"I did not mean to hate her; I did not want to," she said. "If it had +been you, I should not have hated you." + +Maggie's clear eyes wavered for a moment. A faint color rose to her +face. She leaned back so that the firelight did not reach her. There was +a silence, during which Maggie unclasped a bracelet with a little snap +of the spring. Catrina did not hear the sound. She heard nothing. She +did not appear to be aware of her surroundings. Maggie unclasped another +bracelet noisily. She was probably regretting her former kindness of +manner. Catrina had come too near. + +"Are you not judging rather hastily?" suggested Maggie, in a measured +voice which heightened the contrast between the two. "I find it takes +some time to discover whether one likes or dislikes new acquaintances." + +"Yes; but you English are so cold and deliberate. You do not know what +it is to hate--or to care." + +"Perhaps we do," said Maggie; "but we say less about it." + +Catrina turned and looked at her with a queer smile. + +"Less!" she laughed. "Nothing--you say nothing. Paul is the same. I have +seen. I know. You have said nothing since you came to Thors. You have +talked and laughed; you have given opinions; you have spoken of many +things, but you have said nothing. You are the same as Paul--one never +knows. I know nothing about you. But I like you. You are her cousin?" + +"Yes." + +"And I hate her!" + +Maggie laughed. She was quite steady and loyal. + +"When you get to know her you will change, perhaps," she said. + +"Perhaps I know her now better than you do!" + +Maggie laughed in her cheery, practical way. + +"That seems hardly likely, considering that I have known her since we +were children." + +Catrina shrugged her shoulders in an honest if somewhat mannerless +refusal to discuss the side issue. She returned to the main question +with characteristic stubbornness. + +"I shall always hate her," she said. "I am sorry she is your cousin. I +shall always regret that, and I shall always hate her. There is +something wrong about her--something none of you know except Karl +Steinmetz. He knows every thing--Herr Steinmetz." + +"He knows a great deal," admitted Maggie. + +"Yes; and that is why he is sad. Is it not so?" + +Catrina sat staring into the fire, her strange, earnest eyes almost +fierce in their concentration. + +"Did she pretend that she loved him at first?" she asked suddenly. + +Receiving no answer, she looked up and fixed her searching gaze on the +face of her companion. Maggie was looking straight in front of her in +the direction of the fire, but not with eyes focussed to see any thing +so near at hand. She bore the scrutiny without flinching. As soon as +Catrina's eyes were averted the mask-like stillness of her features +relaxed. + +"She does not take that trouble now," added the Russian girl, in reply +to her own question. "Did you see her to-night when we were at the +piano? M. de Chauxville was talking to her. They were keeping two +conversations going at the same time. I could see by their faces. They +said different things when the music was loud. I hate her. She is not +true to Paul. M. de Chauxville knows something about her. They have +something in common which is not known to Paul or to any of us! Why do +you not speak? Why do you sit staring into the fire with your lips so +close together?" + +"Because I do not think that we shall gain any thing by discussing Paul +and his wife. It is no business of ours." + +Catrina laughed--a lamentable, mirthless laugh. + +"That is because she is your cousin; and he--he is nothing to you. You +do not care whether he is happy or not!" + +Catrina had turned upon her companion fiercely. Maggie swung round in +her chair to pick up her bracelets, which had slipped from her knees to +the floor. + +"You exaggerate things," she said quietly. "I see no reason to suppose +that Paul is unhappy. It is because you have taken this unreasoning +dislike to her." + +She took a long time to collect three bracelets. Then she rose and +placed them on the dressing-table. + +"Do you want me to go?" asked Catrina, in her blunt way. + +"No," answered Maggie, civilly enough; but she extracted a couple of +hair-pins rather obviously. + +Catrina heeded the voice and not the action. + +"You English are all alike," she said. "You hold one at arm's length. I +suppose there is some one in England for whom you care--who is out of +all this--away from all the troubles of Russia. This has nothing to do +with your life. It is only a passing incident--a few weeks to be +forgotten when you go back. I wonder what he is like--the man in +England. You need not tell me. I am not curious in that way. I am not +asking you to tell me. I am just wondering. For I know there is some +one. I knew it when I first saw you. You are so quiet, and settled, and +self-contained--like a person who has played a game and knows for +certain that it is lost or won, and does not want to play again. Your +hair is very pretty; you are very pretty, you quiet English girl. I +wonder what you think about behind your steady eyes." + +"I?" said Maggie, with a little laugh. "Oh--I think about my dresses, +and the new fashions, and parties, and all the things that girls do +think of." + +Catrina shook her head. She looked stubborn and unconvinced. Then +suddenly she changed the conversation. + +"Do you like M. de Chauxville?" she asked. + +"No." + +"Does Paul like him?" + +"I don't know." + +Catrina looked up for a moment only. Then her eyes returned to the +contemplation of the burning pine-logs. + +"I wonder why you will not talk of Paul," she said, in a voice requiring +no answer. + +Maggie moved rather uneasily. She had her back turned toward Catrina. + +"I am afraid I am rather a dull person," she answered. "I have not much +to say about any body." + +"And nothing about Paul?" suggested Catrina. + +"Nothing. We were talking of M. de Chauxville." + +"Yes; I do not understand M. de Chauxville. He seems to me to be the +incarnation of insincerity. He poses--even to himself. He is always +watching for the effect. I wonder what the effect of himself upon +himself may be." + +Maggie laughed. + +"That is rather complicated," she said. "It requires working out. I +think he is deeply impressed with his own astuteness. If he were simpler +he would be cleverer." + +Catrina was afraid of Claude de Chauxville, and, because this was so, +she stared in wonder at the English girl, who dismissed him from the +conversation and her thoughts with a few careless words of contempt. +Such minds as that of Miss Delafield were quite outside the field of De +Chauxville's influence, while that Frenchman had considerable power over +highly strung and imaginative natures. + +Catrina Lanovitch had begun by tolerating him--had proceeded to make the +serious blunder of permitting him to be impertinently familiar, and was +now exaggerating in her own mind the hold that he had over her. She did +not actually dislike him. So few people had taken the trouble or found +the expediency of endeavoring to sympathize with her or understand her +nature, that she was unconsciously drawn toward this man whom she now +feared. + +In exaggerating the power he exercised over herself she somewhat +naturally exaggerated also his importance in the world and in the lives +of those around him. She had imagined him all-powerful; and the first +person to whom she mentioned his name dismissed the subject +indifferently. Her own entire sincerity had enabled her to detect the +insincerity of her ally. She had purposely made mention of the weak spot +which she had discovered, in order that her observation might be +corroborated. And this Maggie had failed to do. + +With the slightest encouragement, Catrina would have told her companion +all that had passed. The sympathy between women is so strong that there +is usually only one man who is safe from discussion. In Catrina's case +that one man was not Claude de Chauxville. But Maggie Delafield was of +different material from this impressionable, impulsive Russian girl. She +was essentially British in her capacity for steering a straight personal +course through the shoals and quicksands of her neighbors' affairs, as +also in the firm grip she held upon her own thoughts. She was by no +means prepared to open her mind to the first comer, and in her somewhat +slow-going English estimate of such matters Catrina was as yet little +more than the first comer. + +She changed the subject, and they talked for some time on indifferent +topics--such topics as have an interest for girls; and who are we that +we may despise them? We jeer very grandly at girls' talk, and promptly +return to the discussion of our dogs and pipes and clothing. + +But Catrina was not happy under this judicious treatment. She had no one +in the world to whom she could impart a thousand doubts and questions--a +hundred grievances and one great grief. And it was just this one great +grief of which Maggie dreaded the mention. She was quite well aware of +its existence--had been aware of it for some time. Karl Steinmetz had +thrown out one or two vague hints; everything pointed to it. Maggie +could hardly be ignorant of the fact that Catrina had grown to womanhood +loving Paul. + +A score of times Catrina approached the subject, and with imperturbable +steadfastness Maggie held to her determination that Paul was not to be +discussed by them. She warded, she evaded, she ignored with a skill +which baffled the simple Russian. She had a hundred subterfuges--a +hundred skilful turns and twists. Where women learn these matters, +Heaven only knows! All our experience of the world, our falls and +stumbles on the broken road of life, never teach us some things that are +known to the veriest schoolgirl standing on the smoother footpath that +women tread. + +At last Catrina rose to go. Maggie rose also. Women are relentless where +they fight for their own secrets. Maggie morally turned Catrina out of +the room. The two girls stood looking at each other for a moment. They +had nothing in common. The language in which they understood each other +best was the native tongue of neither. Born in different countries, each +of a mixed race with no one racial strain in common, neither creed, nor +education, nor similarity of thought had aught to draw them together. +They looked at each other, and God's hand touched them. They both loved +the same man. They did not hate each other. + +"Have you every thing you want?" asked Catrina. + +The question was startling. Catrina's speech was ever abrupt. At first +Maggie did not understand. + +"Yes, thanks," she answered. "I am very tired. I suppose it is the +snow." + +"Yes," said Catrina mechanically; "it is the snow." + +She went toward the door, and there she paused. + +"Does Paul love her?" she asked abruptly. + +Maggie made no answer; and, as was her habit, Catrina replied to her own +question. + +"You know he does not--you know he does not!" she said. + +Then she went out, without waiting for an answer, closing the door +behind her. The closed door heard the reply. + +"It will not matter much," said Maggie, "so long as he never finds it +out." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +WOLF! + +The Countess Lanovitch never quitted her own apartments before mid-day. +She had acquired a Parisian habit of being invisible until +luncheon-time. The two girls left the castle of Thors in a sleigh with +one attendant at ten o'clock in order to reach the hut selected for +luncheon by mid-day. Etta did not accompany them. She had a slight +headache. + +At eleven o'clock Claude de Chauxville returned alone, on horseback. +After the sportsmen had separated, each to gain his prearranged position +in the forest, he had tripped over his rifle, seriously injuring the +delicate sighting mechanism. He found (he told the servant who opened +the door for him) that he had just time to return for another rifle +before the operation of closing in on the bears was to begin. + +"If Madame the Princess," was visible, he went on, would the servant +tell her that M. de Chauxville was waiting in the library to assure her +that there was absolutely no danger to be anticipated in the day's +sport. The princess, it would appear, was absurdly anxious about the +welfare of her husband--an experienced hunter and a dead shot. + +Claude de Chauxville then went to the library, where he waited, booted, +spurred, rifle in hand, for Etta. + +After a lapse of five minutes or more, the door was opened, and Etta +came leisurely into the room. + +"Well?" she enquired indifferently. + +De Chauxville bowed. He walked past her and closed the door, which she +happened to have left open. + +Then he returned and stood by the window, leaning gracefully on his +rifle. His attitude, his hunting-suit, his great top-boots, made rather +a picturesque object of him. + +"Well?" repeated Etta, almost insolently. + +"It would have been wiser to have married me," said De Chauxville +darkly. + +Etta shrugged her shoulders. + +"Because I understand you better; I _know_ you better than your +husband." + +Etta turned and glanced at the clock. + +"Have you come back from the bear-hunt to tell me this, or to avoid the +bears?" she asked. + +De Chauxville frowned. A man who has tasted fear does not like a +question of his courage. + +"I have come to tell you that and other things," he answered. + +He looked at her with his sinister smile and a little upward jerk of the +head. He extended his open hand, palm upward, with the fingers slightly +crooked. + +"I hold you, madame," he said--"I hold you in my hand. You are my slave, +despite your brave title; my thing, my plaything, despite your servants, +and your great houses, and your husband! When I have finished telling +you all that I have to tell, you will understand. You will perhaps thank +me for being merciful." + +Etta laughed defiantly. + +"You are afraid of Paul," she cried. "You are afraid of Karl Steinmetz; +you will presently be afraid of me." + +"I think not," said De Chauxville coolly. The two names just mentioned +were certainly not of pleasant import in his ears, but he was not going +to let a woman know that. This man had played dangerous cards before +now. He was not at all sure of his ground. He did not know what Etta's +position was in regard to Steinmetz. Behind the defiant woman there +lurked the broad shadow of the man who never defied; who knew many +things, but was ignorant of fear. + +Unlike Karl Steinmetz, De Chauxville was not a bold player. He liked to +be sure of his trick before he threw down his trump card. His method was +not above suspicion: he liked to know what cards his adversary held, and +one may be sure that he was not above peeping. + +"Karl Steinmetz is no friend of yours," he said. + +Etta did not answer. She was thinking of the conversation she had had +with Steinmetz in Petersburg. She was wondering whether the friendship +he had offered--the solid thing as he called it--was not better than the +love of this man. + +"I have information now," went on De Chauxville, "which would have made +you my wife, had I had it sooner." + +"I think not," said the lady insolently. She had dealt with such men +before. Hers was the beauty that appealed to De Chauxville and such as +he. It is not the beautiful women who see the best side of human nature. + +"Even now," went on the Frenchman, "now that I know you--I still love +you. You are the only woman I shall ever love." + +"Indeed!" murmured the lady, quite unmoved. + +"Yes; although in a way I despise you--now that I know you." + +"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Etta. "If you have any thing to say, please say +it. I have no time to probe your mysteries--to discover your parables. +You know me well enough, perhaps, to be aware that I am not to be +frightened by your cheap charlatanism." + +"I know you well enough," retorted De Chauxville hoarsely, "to be aware +that it was you who sold the Charity League papers to Vassili in Paris. +I know you well enough, madame, to be aware of your present position in +regard to your husband. If I say a word in the right quarter you would +never leave Russia alive. I have merely to say to Catrina Lanovitch that +it was you who banished her father for your own gain. I have merely to +hand your name in to certain of the Charity League party, and even your +husband could not save you." + +He had gradually approached her, and uttered the last words face to +face, his eyes close to hers. She held her head up--erect, defiant +still. + +"So you see, madame," he said, "you belong to me." + +She smiled. + +"Hand and foot," he added. "But I am soft-hearted." + +He shrugged his shoulders and turned away. + +"What will you?" he said, looking out of the window. "I love you." + +"Nonsense!" + +He turned slowly round. + +"What?" + +"Nonsense!" repeated Etta. "You love power; you are a bully. You love to +please your own vanity by thinking that you have me in your power. I am +not afraid of you." + +De Chauxville leaned gracefully against the window. He still held his +rifle. + +"Reflect a little," he said, with his cold smile. "It would appear that +you do not quite realize the situation. Women rarely realize situations +in time. Our friend--your husband--has many of the English +idiosyncrasies. He has all the narrow-minded notions of honor which +obtain in that country. Added to this, I suspect him of possessing a +truly Slavonic fire which he keeps under. 'A smouldering fire--' You +know, madame, our French proverb. He is not the man to take a rational +and broad-minded view of your little transaction with M. Vassili; more +especially, perhaps, as it banished his friend Stépan Lanovitch--the +owner of this house, by the way. His reception of the news I have to +tell him would be unpleasant--for you." + +"What do you want?" interrupted Etta. "Money?" + +"I am not a needy adventurer." + +"And I am not such a fool, M. de Chauxville, as to allow myself to be +dragged into a vulgar intrigue, borrowed from a French novel, to satisfy +your vanity." + +De Chauxville's dull eyes suddenly flashed. + +"I will trouble you to believe, madame," he said, in a low, concentrated +voice, "that such a thought never entered my head. A De Chauxville is +not a commercial traveller, if you please. No; it may surprise you, but +my feeling for you has more good in it than you would seem capable of +inspiring. God only knows how it is that a bad woman can inspire a good +love." + +Etta looked at him in amazement. She did not always understand De +Chauxville. No matter for surprise, perhaps; for he did not always +understand himself. + +"Then what do you want?" she asked. + +"In the meantime, implicit obedience." + +"What are you going to use me for?" + +"I have ends," replied Claude de Chauxville, who had regained his usual +half-mocking composure, "that you will serve. But they will be your ends +as well as mine. You will profit by them. I will take very good care +that you come to no harm, for you are the ultimate object of all this. +At the end of it all I see only--you." + +Etta shrugged her shoulders. It is to be presumed that she was +absolutely heartless. Many women are. It is when a heartless woman has +brains that one hears of her. + +"What if I refuse?" asked Etta, keenly aware of the fact that this man +was handicapped by his love for her. + +"Then I will force you to obedience." + +Etta raised her delicate eyebrows insolently. + +"Ah!" + +"Yes," said De Chauxville, with suppressed anger; "I will force you to +obey me." + +The princess looked at him with her little mocking smile. She raised one +hand to her head with a reflective air, as if a hair-pin were of greater +importance than his words. She had dressed herself rather carefully for +this interview. She never for a moment overlooked the fact that she was +a woman, and beautiful. She did not allow him to forget it either. + +Her mood of outraged virtue was now suddenly thrown into the background +by a phase of open coquetry. Beneath her eyelids she watched for the +effect of her pretty, provoking attitude on the man who loved her. She +was on her own territory at this work, playing her own game; and she was +more alarmed by De Chauxville's imperturbability than by any thing he +had said. + +"You have a strange way of proving the truth of your own statements." + +"What statements?" + +She gave a little laugh. Her attitude, her glance, the cunning display +of a perfect figure, the laugh, the whole woman, was the incarnation of +practised coquetry. She did not admit, even to herself, that she was +afraid of De Chauxville. But she was playing her best cards, in her best +manner. She had never known them fail. + +Claude de Chauxville was a little white about the lips. His eyelids +flickered, but by an effort he controlled himself, and she did not see +the light in his eyes for which she looked. + +"If you mean," he said coldly, "the statement that I made to you before +you were married--namely, that I love you--I am quite content to leave +the proof till the future. I know what I am about, madame." + +He took his watch from his pocket and consulted it. + +"I must go in five minutes," he said. "I have a few instructions to give +you, to which I must beg your careful attention." + +He looked up, meeting Etta's somewhat sullen gaze with a smile of +triumph. + +"It is essential," he went on, "that I be invited to Osterno. I do not +want to stay there long; indeed, I do not care to. But I must see the +place. I dare say you can compass the invitation, madame?" + +"It will be difficult." + +"And therefore worthy of your endeavor. I have the greatest regard for +your diplomatic skill. I leave the matter in your hands, princess." + +Etta shrugged her shoulders and looked past him out of the window. De +Chauxville was considering her face carefully. + +"Another point to be remembered," he went on, "is your husband's daily +life at Osterno. The prince is not above suspicion; the authorities are +watching him. He is suspected of propagating revolutionary ideas among +the peasantry. I should like you to find out as much as you can. Perhaps +you know already. Perhaps he has told you, princess. I know that +beautiful face! He has told you! Good! Does he take an interest in the +peasants?" + +Etta did not answer. + +"Kindly give me your attention, madame. Does the prince take an interest +in the peasants?" + +"Yes." + +"An active interest?" + +"Yes." + +"Have you any details?" + +"No," answered Etta. + +"Then you will watch him, and procure those details." + +Etta's face was defiant and pale. De Chauxville never took his eyes from +it. + +"I have undertaken a few small commissions for an old friend of yours, +M. Vassili, whom you obliged once before!" he said; and the defiance +faded from her eyes. + +"The authorities cannot, in these disturbed times, afford to tolerate +princes of an independent turn of mind. Such men are apt to make the +peasant think himself more important than he is. I dare say, madame, +that you are already tired of Russia. It might perhaps serve your ends +if this country was made a little too hot for your husband, eh? I see +your proud lips quivering, princess! It is well to keep the lips under +control. We, who deal in diplomacy, know where to look for such signs. +Yes; I dare say I can get you out of Russia--for ever. But you must be +obedient. You must reconcile yourself to the knowledge that you have +met--your master." + +He bowed in his graceful way, spreading out his hands in mock humility. +Etta did not answer him. For the moment she could see no outlet to this +maze of trouble, and yet she was conscious of not fearing De Chauxville +so much as she feared Karl Steinmetz. + +"A lenient master," pursued the Frenchman, whose vanity was tickled by +the word. "I do not ask much. One thing is to be invited to Osterno, +that I may be near you. The other is a humble request for details of +your daily life, that I may think of you when absent." + +Etta drew in her lips, moistening them as if they had suddenly become +parched. + +De Chauxville glanced at her and moved toward the door. He paused with +his fingers on the handle, and looking back over his shoulder he said: + +"Have I made myself quite clear?" + +Etta was still looking out of the window with hard, angry eyes. She took +no notice of the question. + +De Chauxville turned the handle. + +"Again let me impress upon you the advisability of implicit obedience," +he said, with delicate insolence. "I mentioned the Charity League; but +that is not my strongest claim upon your attention. I have another +interesting little detail of your life, which I will reserve until +another time." + +He closed the door behind him, leaving Etta white-lipped. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +A DANGEROUS EXPERIMENT + +A Russian forest in winter is one of nature's places of worship. There +are some such places in the world, where nature seems to stand in the +presence of the Deity; a sunrise at sea; night on a snow-clad mountain; +mid-day in a Russian forest in winter. These places and these times are +good for convalescent atheists and such as pose as unbelievers--the +cheapest form of notoriety. + +Paul had requested Catrina and Maggie to drive as quietly as possible +through the forest. The warning was unnecessary, for the stillness of +snow is infectious, while the beauty of the scene seemed to command +silence. As usual, Catrina drove without bells. The one attendant on his +perch behind was a fur-clad statue of servitude and silence. Maggie, +leaning back, hidden to the eyes in her sables, had nothing to say to +her companion. The way lay through forests of pine--trackless, +motionless, virgin. The sun, filtering through the snow-laden branches, +cast a subdued golden light upon the ruddy upright trunks of the trees. +At times a willow-grouse, white as the snow, light and graceful on the +wing, rose from the branch where he had been laughing to his mate with a +low, cooing laugh, and fluttered away over the trees. + +"A kooropatka," said Catrina, who knew the life of the forest almost as +well as Paul, whose very existence was wrapped up in these things. + +Far over the summits of the pines a snipe seemed to be wheeling a +sentinel round. He followed them as they sped along, calling out all the +while his deep warning note, like that of a lamb crouching beneath a +hedge where the wind is not tempered. + +Once or twice they heard the dismal howl of a wolf--the most melancholy, +the weirdest, the most hopeless of nature's calls. The whole forest +seemed to be on the alert--astir and in suspense. The wolf, disturbed in +his lair, no doubt heard and understood the cry of the watchful snipe +and the sudden silence of the willow-grouse, who loves to sit and laugh +when all is safe. A clumsy capercailzie, swinging along over the trees +with a great flap and rush of wings, seemed to be intent on his own +solitary, majestic business--a very king among the fowls of the air. + +Amid the topmost branches of the pines the wind whispered and stirred +like a child in sleep; but beneath all was still. Every branch stood +motionless beneath its burden of snow. The air was thin, exhilarating, +brilliant--like dry champagne. It seemed to send the blood coursing +through the veins with a very joy of life. + +Catrina noted all these things while cleverly handling her ponies. They +spoke to her with a thousand voices. She had roamed in these same +forests with Paul, who loved them and understood them as she did. + +Maggie, in the midst as it were of a revelation, leaned back and +wondered at it all. She, too, was thinking of Paul, the owner of these +boundless forests. She understood him better now. This drive had +revealed to her a part of his nature which had rather puzzled her--a +large, simple, quiet strength which had developed and grown to maturity +beneath these trees. We are all part of what we have seen. We all carry +with us through life somewhat of the scenes through which we passed in +childhood. + +Maggie knew now where Paul had learnt the quiet concentration of mind, +the absorption in his own affairs, the complete lack of interest in the +business of his neighbor which made him different from other men. He had +learnt these things at first hand from God's creatures. These +forest-dwellers of fur and feather went about their affairs in the same +absorbed way, with the same complete faith, the same desire to leave and +be left alone. The simplicity of Nature was his. His only craft was +forest craft. + +"Now you know," said Catrina, when they reached the hut, "why I hate +Petersburg." + +Maggie nodded. The effect of the forest was still upon her. She did not +want to talk. + +The woman who received them, the wife of a keeper, had prepared in a +rough way for their reception. She had a large fire and bowls of warm +milk. The doors and windows had been thrown wide open by Paul's orders. +He wanted to spare Maggie too intimate an acquaintance with a Russian +interior. The hut was really a shooting-box built by Paul some years +earlier, and inhabited by a head-keeper, one learned in the ways of bear +and wolf and lynx. The large dwelling-room had been carefully scrubbed. +There was a smell of pine-wood and soap. The table, ready spread with a +simple luncheon, took up nearly the whole of the room. + +While the two girls were warming themselves, a keeper came to the door +of the hut and asked to see Catrina. He stood in the little door-way, +completely filling it, and explained that he could not come in, as the +buckles and straps of his snow-shoes were clogged and frozen. He wore +the long Norwegian snow-shoes, and was held to be the quickest runner in +the country. + +Catrina had a long conversation with the man, who stood hatless, ruddy, +and shy. + +"It is," she then explained to Maggie, "Paul's own man, who always loads +for him and carries his spare gun. He has sent him to tell us that the +game has been ringed, and that the beaters will close in on a place +called the Schapka Clearing, where there is a woodman's refuge. If we +care to put on our snow-shoes, this man will guide us to the clearing +and take care of us till the battue is over." + +Of course Maggie welcomed the proposal with delight, and after a hasty +luncheon the three glided off through the forest as noiselessly as they +had come. After a tiring walk of an hour and more they came to the +clearing, and were duly concealed in the hut. + +No one, the keeper told the ladies, except Paul, knew of their presence +in the little wooden house. The arrangements of the beat had been +slightly altered at the last moment after the hunters had separated. The +keeper lighted a small fire and shyly attended to the ladies, removing +their snow-shoes with clumsy fingers. He closed the door, and arranged a +branch of larch across the window so that they could stand near it +without being seen. + +They had not been there long before De Chauxville appeared. He moved +quickly across the clearing, skimming over the snow with long, sweeping +strides. Two keepers followed him, and after having shown him the rough +hiding-place prepared for him, silently withdrew to their places. Soon +Karl Steinmetz came from another direction, and took up his position +rather nearer to the hut, in a thicket of pine and dwarf oak. He was +only twenty yards away from the refuge where the girls were concealed. + +It was not long before Paul came. He was quite alone, and suddenly +appeared at the far end of the clearing, in very truth a mighty hunter, +standing nearly seven feet on his snow-shoes. One rifle he carried in +his hand, another slung across his back. It was like a silent scene on a +stage. The snow-white clearing, with long-drawn tracks across it where +the snow-shoes had passed, the still trees, the brilliant sun, and the +blue depths of the forest behind; while Paul, like the hero of some grim +Arctic saga, a huge fur-clad Northern giant, stood alone in the +desolation. + +From his attitude it was apparent that he was listening. It was probable +that the cries of the birds and the distant howl of a wolf told his +practised ears how near the beaters were. He presently moved across to +where De Chauxville was hidden, spoke some words of advice or warning to +him, and pointed with his gloved hand in the direction whence the game +might be expected to come. + +It subsequently transpired that Paul was asking De Chauxville the +whereabouts of Steinmetz, who had gained his place of concealment +unobserved by either. De Chauxville could give him no information, and +Paul went away to his post dissatisfied. Karl Steinmetz must have seen +them; he must have divined the subject of their conversation; but he +remained hidden and gave no sign. + +Paul's post was behind a fallen tree, and the watchers in the hut could +see him, while he was completely hidden from any animal that might enter +the open clearing from the far end. He turned and looked hard at the +hut; but the larch branch across the window effectually prevented him +from discovering whether any one was behind it or not. + +Thus they all waited in suspense. A blackcock skimmed across the open +space and disappeared unmolested. A wolf--gray, gaunt, sneaking, and +lurching in his gait--trotted into the clearing and stood listening with +evil lips drawn back. The two girls watched him breathlessly. When he +trotted on unmolested, they drew a deep breath as if they had been under +water. Paul, with his two rifles laid before him, watched the wolf +depart with a smile. The girls could see the smile, and from it learnt +somewhat of the man. The keeper beside them gave a little laugh and +looked to the hammers of his rifle. + +And still there was no sound. It was still, unreal, and like a scene on +the stage. The birds, skimming over the tops of the trees from time to +time, threw in as it were a note of fear and suspense. There was +breathlessness in the air. A couple of hares, like white shadows in +their spotless winter coats, shot from covert to covert across the open +ground. + +Then suddenly the keeper gave a little grunt and held up his hand, +listening with parted lips and eager eyes. There was a distinct sound of +breaking branches and crackling underwood. + +They could see Paul cautiously rise from his knees to a crouching +attitude. They followed the direction of his gaze, and before them the +monarch of these forests stood in clumsy might. A bear had shambled to +the edge of the clearing and was standing upright, growling and +grumbling to himself, his great paws waving from side to side, his +shaggy head thrust forward with a recurring jerk singularly suggestive +of a dandy with an uncomfortable collar. These bears of Northern Russia +have not the reputation of being very fierce unless they are aroused +from their winter quarters, when their wrath knows no bounds and their +courage recognizes no danger. An angry bear is afraid of no living man +or beast. Moreover, these kings of the Northern forests are huge beasts, +capable of smothering a strong man by falling on him and lying there--a +death which has come to more than one daring hunter. The beast's +favorite method of dealing with his foe is to claw him to death, or else +hug him till his ribs are snapped and crushed into his vitals. + +The bear stood poking his head and looking about with little, fiery, +bloodshot eyes for something to destroy. His rage was manifest, and in +his strength he was a grand sight. The majesty of power and a dauntless +courage were his. + +It was De Chauxville's shot, and while keeping his eye on the bear, Paul +glanced impatiently over his shoulder from time to time, wondering why +the Frenchman did not fire. The bear was a huge one, and would probably +carry three bullets and still be a dangerous adversary. + +The keeper muttered impatiently. + +They were watching Paul breathlessly. The bear was approaching him. It +would not be safe to defer firing another second. + +Suddenly the keeper gave a short exclamation of astonishment and threw +up his rifle. + +There was another bear behind Paul, shambling toward him, unseen by him. +All his attention was riveted on the huge brute forty yards in front of +him. It was Claude de Chauxville's task to protect Paul from any flank +or rear attack; and Claude de Chauxville was peering over his covert, +watching with blanched face the second bear; and lifting no hand, making +no sign. The bear was within a few yards of Paul, who was crouching +behind the fallen pine and now raising his rifle to his shoulder. + +In a flash of comprehension the two girls saw all, through the panes of +the closed window. It was still singularly like a scene on the stage. +The second bear raised his powerful fore-paws as he approached. One blow +would tear open Paul's brain. + +A terrific report sent the girls staggering back, for a moment +paralyzing thought. The keeper had fired through the window, both +barrels almost simultaneously. It was a question how much lead would +bring the bear down before he covered the intervening dozen yards. In +the confined space of the hut, the report of the heavy double charge was +like that of a cannon; moreover, Steinmetz, twenty yards away, had fired +at the same moment. + +The room was filled with smoke. The two girls were blinded for an +instant. Then they saw the keeper tear open the door and disappear. The +cold air through the shattered casement was a sudden relief to their +lungs, choked with sulphur and the fumes of spent powder. + +In a flash they were out of the open door; and there again, with the +suddenness of a panorama, they saw another picture--Paul kneeling in the +middle of the clearing, taking careful aim at the retreating form of the +first bear. They saw the puff of blue smoke rise from his rifle, they +heard the sharp report; and the bear rolled over on its face. + +Steinmetz and the keeper were walking toward Paul. Claude de Chauxville, +standing outside his screen of brushwood, was staring with wide, +fear-stricken eyes at the hut which he had thought empty. He did not +know that there were three people behind him, watching him. What had +they seen? What had they understood? + +Catrina and Maggie ran toward Paul. They were on snow-shoes, and made +short work of the intervening distance. + +Paul had risen to his feet. His face was grave. There was a singular +gleam in his eyes, which was not a gleam of mere excitement such as the +chase brings into some men's eyes. + +Steinmetz looked at him and said nothing. For a moment Paul stood still. +He looked round him, noting with experienced glance the lay of the whole +incident--the dead form of the bear ten yards behind his late +hiding-place, one hundred and eighty yards from the hut, one hundred and +sixty yards from the spot whence Karl Steinmetz had sent his unerring +bullet through the bear's brain. Paul saw it all. He measured the +distances. He looked at De Chauxville, standing white-faced at his post, +not fifty yards from the carcass of the second bear. + +Paul seemed to see no one but De Chauxville. He went straight toward +him, and the whole party followed in breathless suspense. Steinmetz was +nearest to him, watching with his keen, quiet eyes. + +Paul went up to De Chauxville and took the rifle from his hands. He +opened the breech and looked into the barrels. They were clean; the +rifle had not been fired off. + +He gave a little laugh of contempt, and, throwing the rifle at De +Chauxville's feet, turned abruptly away. + +It was Catrina who spoke. + +"If you had killed him," she said, "I would have killed you!" + +Steinmetz picked up the rifle, closed the breech, and handed it to De +Chauxville with a queer smile. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +A CLOUD + +When the Osterno party reached home that same evening the starosta was +waiting to see Steinmetz. His news was such that Steinmetz sent for +Paul, and the three men went together to the little room beyond the +smoking-room in the old part of the castle. + +"Well?" said Paul, with the unconscious hauteur which made him a prince +to these people. + +The starosta spread out his hands. + +"Your Excellency," he answered, "I am afraid." + +"Of what?" + +The starosta shrugged his narrow shoulders in cringing deprecation. + +"Excellency, I do not know. There is something in the village--something +in the whole country. I know not what it is. It is a feeling--one cannot +see it, one cannot define it; but it is there, like the gleam of water +at the bottom of a deep well. The moujiks are getting dangerous. They +will not speak to me. I am suspected. I am watched." + +His shifty eyes, like black beads, flitted from side to side as he +spoke. He was like a weasel at bay. It was the face of a man who went in +bodily fear. + +"I will go with you down to the village now," said Paul. "Is there any +excuse--any illness?" + +"Ah, Excellency," replied the chief, "there is always that excuse." + +Paul looked at the clock. + +"I will go now," he said. He began his simple preparations at once. + +"There is dinner to be thought of," suggested Steinmetz, with a resigned +smile. "It is half-past seven." + +"Dinner can wait," replied Paul in English. "You might tell the ladies +that I have gone out, and will dine alone when I come back." + +Steinmetz shrugged his broad shoulders. + +"I think you are a fool," he said, "to go alone. If they discover your +identity they will tear you to pieces." + +"I am not afraid of them," replied Paul, with his head in the medicine +cupboard, "any more than I am afraid of a horse. They are like horses; +they do not know their own strength." + +"With this difference," added Steinmetz, "that the moujik will one day +make the discovery. He is beginning to make it now. The starosta is +quite right, Paul. There is something in the air. It is about time that +you took the ladies away from here and left me to manage it alone." + +"That time will never come again," answered Paul. "I am not going to +leave you alone again." + +He was pushing his arms into the sleeves of the old brown coat reaching +to his heels, a garment which commanded as much love and respect in +Osterno as ever would an angel's wing. + +Steinmetz opened the drawer of his bureau and laid a revolver on the +table. + +"At all events," he said, "you may as well have the wherewithal to make +a fight of it, if the worst comes to the worst." + +"As you like," answered Paul, slipping the fire-arm into his pocket. + +The starosta moved away a pace or two. He was essentially a man of +peace. + +Half an hour later it became known in the village that the Moscow doctor +was in the house of one Ivan Krass, where he was prepared to see all +patients who were now suffering from infectious complaints. The door of +this cottage was soon besieged by the sick and the idle, while the +starosta stood in the door-way and kept order. + +Within, in the one dwelling-room of the cottage, were assembled as +picturesque and as unsavory a group as the most enthusiastic modern +"slummer" could desire to see. + +Paul, standing by the table with two paraffin lamps placed behind him, +saw each suppliant in turn, and all the while he kept up a running +conversation with the more intelligent, some of whom lingered on to talk +and watch. + +"Ah, John the son of John," he would say, "what is the matter with you? +It is not often I see you. I thought you were clean and thrifty." + +To which John the son of John replied that the winter had been hard and +fuel scarce, that his wife was dead and his children stricken with +influenza. + +"But you have had relief; our good friend the starosta--" + +"Does what he can," grumbled John, "but he dare not do much. The bárins +will not let him. The nobles want all the money for themselves. The +Emperor is living in his palace, where there are fountains of wine. We +pay for that with our taxes. You see my hand--I cannot work; but I must +pay the taxes, or else we shall be turned out into the street." + +Paul, while attending to the wounded hand--an old story of an old wound +neglected, and a constitution with all the natural healing power drained +out of it by hunger and want and vodka--Paul, ever watchful, glanced +round and saw sullen, lowering faces, eager eyes, hungry, cruel lips. + +"But the winter is over now. You are mistaken about the nobles. They do +what they can. The Emperor pays for the relief that you have had all +these months. It is foolish to talk as you do." + +"I only tell the truth," replied the man, wincing as Paul deliberately +cut away the dead flesh. "We know now why it is that we are all so +poor." + +"Why?" asked Paul, pouring some lotion over a wad of lint and speaking +indifferently. + +"Because the nobles--" began the man, and some one nudged him from +behind, urging him to silence. + +"You need not be afraid of me," said Paul. "I tell no tales, and I take +no money." + +"Then why do you come?" asked a voice in the background. "Some one pays +you; who is it?" + +"Ah, Tula," said Paul, without looking up. "You are there, are you? The +great Tula. There is a hardworking, sober man, my little fathers, who +never beats his wife, and never drinks, and never borrows money. A +useful neighbor! What is the matter with you, Tula? You have been too +sparing with the vodka, no doubt. I must order you a glass every hour." + +There was a little laugh. But Paul, who knew these people, was quite +alive to the difference of feeling toward himself. They still accepted +his care, his help, his medicine; but they were beginning to doubt him. + +"There is your own prince," he went on fearlessly to the man whose hand +he was binding up. "He will help you when there is real distress." + +An ominous silence greeted this observation. + +Paul raised his head and looked round. In the dim light of the two smoky +lamps he saw a ring of wild faces. Men with shaggy beards and hair all +entangled and unkempt, with fierce eyes and lowering glances; women with +faces that unsexed them. There were despair and desperation and utter +recklessness in the air, in the attitude, in the hearts of these people. +And Paul had worked among them for years. The sight would have been +heart-breaking had Paul Howard Alexis been the sort of man to admit the +possibility of a broken heart. All that he had done had been frustrated +by the wall of heartless bureaucracy against which he had pitched his +single strength. There was no visible progress. These were not the faces +of men and women moving up the social scale by the aid of education and +the deeper self-respect that follows it. Some of them were young, +although they hardly looked it. They were young in years, but old in +life and misery. Some of them he knew to be educated. He had paid for +the education himself. He had risked his own personal freedom to procure +it for them, and misery had killed the seed. + +He looked on this stony ground, and his stout heart was torn with pity. +It is easy to be patient in social economy when that vague jumble of +impossible ideas is calmly discussed across the dinner-table. But the +result seems hopelessly distant when the mass of the poor and wretched +stand before one in the flesh. + +Paul knew that this little room was only a specimen of the whole of +Russia. Each of these poor peasants represented a million--equally +hopeless, equally powerless to contend with an impossible taxation. + +He could not give them money, because the tax-collector had them all +under his thumb and would exact the last kopeck. The question was far +above his single-handed reach, and he did not dare to meet it openly and +seek the assistance of the few fellow-nobles who faced the position +without fear. + +He could not see in the brutal faces before him one spark of +intelligence, one little gleam of independence and self-respect which +could be attributed to his endeavor; which the most sanguine +construction could take as resulting from his time and money given to a +hopeless cause. + +"Well," he said. "Have you nothing to tell me of your prince?" + +"You know him," answered the man who had spoken from the safe +background. "We need not tell you." + +"Yes," answered Paul; "I know him." + +He would not defend himself. + +"There," he went on, addressing the man whose hand was now bandaged. +"You will do. Keep clean and sober, and it will heal. Get drunk and go +dirty, and you will die. Do you understand, Ivan Ivanovitch?" + +The man grunted sullenly, and moved away to give place to a woman with a +baby in her arms. + +Paul glanced into her face. He had known her a few years earlier a happy +child playing at her mother's cottage door. + +She drew back the shawl that covered her child, with a faint, far-off +gleam of pride in her eyes. There was something horribly pathetic in the +whole picture. The child-mother, her rough, unlovely face lighted for a +moment with that gleam from Paradise which men never know; the huge man +bending over her, and between them the wizened, disease-stricken little +waif of humanity. + +"When he was born he was a very fine child," said the mother. + +Paul glanced at her. She was quite serious. She was looking at him with +a strange pride on her face. Paul nodded and drew aside the shawl. The +baby was staring at him with wise, grave eyes, as if it could have told +him a thing or two if it had only been gifted with the necessary speech. +Paul knew that look. It meant starvation. + +"What is it?" asked the child-mother. "It is only some little illness, +is it not?" + +"Yes; it is only a little illness." + +He did not add that no great illness is required to kill a small child. +He was already writing something in his pocket-book. He tore the leaf +out and gave it to her. + +"This," he said, "is for you--yourself, you understand? Take that each +day to the starosta and he will give you what I have written down. If +you do not eat all that he gives you and drink what there is in the +bottle as he directs you, the baby will die--you understand? You must +give nothing away; nothing even to your husband." + +The next patient was the man whose voice had been heard from the safe +retreat of the background. His dominant malady was obvious. A shaky +hand, an unsteady eye, and a bloated countenance spoke for themselves. +But he had other diseases more or less developed. + +"So you have no good to tell of your prince," said Paul, looking into +the man's face. + +"Our prince, Excellency! He is not our prince. His forefathers seized +this land; that is all." + +"Ah! Who has been telling you that?" + +"No one," grumbled the man. "We know it; that is all." + +"But you were his father's serfs, before the freedom. Let me see your +tongue. Yes; you have been drinking--all the winter. Ah! is not that so, +little father? Your parents were serfs before the freedom." + +"Freedom!" growled the man. "A pretty freedom! We were better off +before." + +"Yes; but the world interfered with serfdom, because it got its +necessary touch of sentiment. There is no sentiment in starvation." + +The man did not understand. He grunted acquiescence nevertheless. The +true son of the people is always ready to grunt acquiescence to all that +sounds like abuse. + +"And what is this prince like? Have you seen him?" went on Paul. + +"No; I have not seen him. If I saw him I would kick his head to pieces." + +"Ah, just open your mouth a little wider. Yes; you have a nasty throat +there. You have had diphtheria. So you would kick his head to pieces. +Why?" + +"He is a tchinovnik--a government spy. He lives on the taxes. But it +will not be for long. There is a time coming--" + +"Ah! What sort of a time? Now, you must take this to the starosta. He +will give you a bottle. It is not to drink. It is to wash your throat +with. Remember that, and do not give it to your wife by way of a tonic +as you did last time. So there are changes coming, are there?" + +"There is a change coming for the prince--for all the princes," replied +the man in the usual taproom jargon. "For the Emperor too. The poor man +has had enough of it. God made the world for the poor man as well as for +the rich. Riches should be equally divided. They are going to be. The +country is going to be governed by a Mir. There will be no taxes. The +Mir makes no taxes. It is the tchinovniks who make the taxes and live on +them." + +"Ah, you are very eloquent, little father. If you talk like this in the +kabak no wonder you have a bad throat. There, I can do no more for you. +You must wash more and drink less. You might try a little work perhaps; +it stimulates the appetite. And with a throat like that I should not +talk so much if I were you. Next!" + +The next comer was afflicted with a wound that would not heal--a common +trouble in cold countries. + +While attending to this sickening sore Paul continued his conversation +with the last patient. + +"You must tell me," he said, "when these changes are about to come. I +should like to be there to see. It will be interesting." + +The man laughed mysteriously. + +"So the government is to be by a Mir, is it?" went on Paul. + +"Yes; the poor man is to have a say in it." + +"That will be interesting. But at the Mir every one talks at once and no +one listens; is it not so?" + +The man made no reply. + +"Is the change coming soon?" asked Paul coolly. + +But there was no reply. Some one had seized the loquacious orator of the +kabak, and he was at that moment being quietly hustled out of the room. + +After this there was a sullen silence, which Paul could not charm away, +charm he never so wisely. + +When his patients had at last ebbed away he lighted a cigarette and +walked thoughtfully back to the castle. There was danger in the air, and +this was one of those men upon whom danger acts as a pleasant stimulant. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +THE NET IS DRAWN + +During the days following Paul's visit to the village the ladies did not +see much male society. Paul and Steinmetz usually left the castle +immediately after breakfast and did not return till nightfall. + +"Is there any thing wrong?" Maggie asked Steinmetz on the evening of the +second day. + +Steinmetz had just come into the vast drawing-room dressed for +dinner--stout, placid, and very clean-looking. They were alone in the +room. + +"Nothing, my dear young lady--yet," he answered, coming forward and +rubbing his broad palms slowly together. + +Maggie was reading an English newspaper. She turned its pages without +pausing to notice the black and sticky obliterations effected by the +postal authorities before delivery. It was no new thing to her now to +come upon the press censor's handiwork in the columns of such +periodicals and newspapers as Paul received from England. + +"Because," she said, "if there is you need not be afraid of telling me." + +"To have that fear would be to offer you an insult," replied Steinmetz. +"Paul and I are investigating matters, that is all. The plain truth, my +dear young lady, is that we do not know ourselves what is in the wind. +We only know there is something. You are a horsewoman--you know the +feeling of a restive horse. One knows that he is only waiting for an +excuse to shy or to kick or to rear. One feels it thrilling in him. Paul +and I have that feeling in regard to the peasants. We are going the +round of the outlying villages, steadily and carefully. We are seeking +for the fly on the horse's body--you understand?" + +"Yes, I understand." + +She gave a little nod. She had not lost color, but there was an anxious +look in her eyes. + +"Some people would have sent to Tver for the soldiers," Steinmetz went +on. "But Paul is not that sort of man. He will not do it yet. You +remember our conversation at the Charity Ball in London?" + +"Yes." + +"I did not want you to come then. I am sorry you have come now." + +Maggie laid aside the newspaper with a little laugh. + +"But, Herr Steinmetz," she said, "I am not afraid. Please remember that. +I have absolute faith in you--and in Paul." + +Steinmetz accepted this statement with his grave smile. + +"There is only one thing I would recommend," he said, "and that is a +perfect discretion. Speak of this to no one, especially to no servants. +You remember your own mutiny in India. Gott! what wonderful people you +English are--men and women alike! You remember how the ladies kept up +and brazened it out before the servants. You must do the same. I think I +hear the rustle of the princess's dress. Yes! And there is no news in +the papers, you say?" + +"None," replied Maggie. + +It may not have been entirely by chance that Claude de Chauxville drove +over to Osterno to pay his respects the next day, and expressed himself +desolated at hearing that the prince had gone out with Herr Steinmetz in +a sleigh to a distant corner of the estate. + +"My horses must rest," said the Frenchman, calmly taking off his fur +gloves. "Perhaps the princess will see me." + +A few minutes later he was shown into the morning-room. + +"Did I see Mlle. Delafield on snow-shoes in the forest as I came along?" +De Chauxville asked the servant in perfect Russian before the man left +the room. + +"Doubtless, Excellency. She went out on her snow-shoes half an hour +ago." + +"That is all right," said the Frenchman to himself when the door was +closed. + +He went to the fire and warmed his slim white fingers. There was an evil +smile lurking beneath his mustache. + +When Etta opened the door a minute later he bowed low, without speaking. +There was a suggestion of triumph in his attitude. + +"Well?" said the princess, without acknowledging his salutation. + +De Chauxville raised his eyebrows with the resigned surprise of a man to +whom no feminine humor is new. He brought forward a chair. + +"Will you sit?" he said, with exaggerated courtesy. "I have much to say +to you. Besides, we have all the time. Your husband and his German +friend are miles away. I passed Miss Delafield in the forest. She is not +quite at home on her snow-shoes yet. She cannot be back for at least +half an hour." + +Etta bit her lip as she looked at the chair. She sat slowly down and +drew in the folds of her rich dress. + +"I have the good fortune to find you alone." + +"So you have informed me," she replied coldly. + +De Chauxville leaned against the mantel-piece and looked down at her +thoughtfully. + +"At the bear-hunt the other day," he said, "I had the misfortune +to--well, to fall out with the prince. We were not quite at one on a +question of etiquette. He thought that I ought to have fired. I did not +fire; I was not ready. It appears that the prince considered himself to +be in danger. He was nervous--flurried." + +"You are not always artistic in your untruths," interrupted Etta. "I +know nothing of the incident to which you refer, but in lying you should +always endeavor to be consistent. I am sure Paul was not nervous--or +flurried." + +De Chauxville smiled imperturbably. His end was gained. Etta obviously +knew nothing of his attempt to murder Paul at the bear-hunt. + +"It was nothing," he went on; "we did not come to words. But we have +never been much in sympathy; the coldness is intensified, that is all. +So I took the opportunity of calling when I knew he was away." + +"How did you know he was away?" + +"Ah, madame, I know more than I am credited with." + +Etta gave a little laugh and shrugged her shoulders. + +"You do not care for Osterno?" suggested De Chauxville. + +"I hate it!" + +"Precisely. And I am here to help you to get away from Russia once for +all. Ah! you may shake your head. Some day, perhaps, I shall succeed in +convincing you that I have only your interests at heart. I am here, +princess, to make a little arrangement with you--a final arrangement, I +hope." + +He paused, looking at her with a sudden gleam in his eyes. + +"Not the last of all," he added in a different tone. "That will make you +my wife." + +Etta allowed this statement to pass unchallenged. Her courage and energy +were not exhausted. She was learning to nurse her forces. + +"Your husband," went on De Chauxville, after he had sufficiently enjoyed +the savor of his own words, "is a brave man. To frighten him it is +necessary to resort to strong measures. The last and the strongest +measure in the diplomat's scale is the People. The People, madame, will +take no denial. It is a game I have played before--a dangerous game, but +I am not afraid." + +"You need not trouble to be theatrical with me," put in Etta scornfully. +She was sitting with a patch of color in either cheek. At times this man +had the power of moving her, and she was afraid of allowing him to +exercise it. She knew her own weakness--her inordinate vanity; for +vanity is the weakness of strong women. She was ever open to flattery, +and Claude de Chauxville flattered her in every word he spoke; for by +act and speech he made it manifest that she was the motive power of his +existence. + +"A man who plays for a high stake," went on the Frenchman, in a quieter +voice, "must be content to throw his all on the table time after time. A +week to-night--Thursday, the 5th of April--I will throw down my all on +the turn of a card. For the People are like that. It is rouge or +noir--one never knows. We only know that there is no third color, no +compromise." + +Etta was listening now with ill-disguised interest. At last he had given +her something definite--a date. + +"On Thursday," he went on, "the peasants will make a demonstration. You +know as well as I do--as well as Prince Pavlo does, despite his +imperturbable face--that the whole country is a volcano which may break +forth at any moment. But the control is strong, and therefore there is +never a large eruption--a grumble here, a gleam of fire there, a sullen +heat everywhere! But it is held in check by the impossibility of +communication. It seems strange, but Russia stands because she has no +penny postage. The great crash will come, not by force of arms, but by +ways of peace. The signal will be a postal system, the standard of the +revolution will be a postage-stamp. All over this country there are +millions waiting and burning to rise up and crush despotism, but they +are held in check by the simple fact that they are far apart and they +cannot write to each other. When, at last, they are brought together, +there will be no fight at all, because they will overwhelm their +enemies. That time, madame, has not come yet. We are only at the stage +of tentative underground rumblings. But a little eruption is enough to +wipe out one man if he be standing on the spot." + +"Go on," said Etta quietly--too quietly, De Chauxville might have +thought, had he been calmer. + +"I want you," he went on, "to assist me. We shall be ready on Thursday. +I shall not appear in the matter at all; I have strong colleagues at my +back. Starvation and misery, properly handled, are strong incentives." + +"And how do you propose to handle them?" asked Etta in the same quiet +voice. + +"The peasants will make a demonstration. The rest we must leave +to--well, to the course of fortune. I have no doubt that our astute +friend Karl Steinmetz will manage to hold them in check. But whatever +the end of the demonstration, the outcome will be the impossibility of a +longer residence in this country for the Prince Pavlo Alexis. A regiment +of soldiers could hardly make it possible." + +"I do not understand," said Etta, "what you describe as a +demonstration--is it a rising?" + +De Chauxville nodded, with a grin. + +"In force, to take what they want by force?" asked the princess. + +De Chauxville spread out his hands in his graceful Gallic way. + +"That depends." + +"And what do you wish me to do?" asked Etta, with the same concentrated +quiet. + +"In the first place, to believe that no harm will come to you, either +directly or indirectly. They would not dare to touch the prince; they +will content themselves with breaking a few windows." + +"What do you want me to do?" repeated Etta. + +De Chauxville paused. + +"Merely," he answered lightly, "to leave open a door--a side door. I +understand that there is a door in the old portion of the castle leading +up by a flight of stairs to the smoking-room, and thence to the new part +of the building." + +Etta did not answer. De Chauxville glanced at his watch and walked to +the window, where he stood looking out. He was too refined a person to +whistle, but his attitude was suggestive of that mode of killing time. + +"This door I wish you to unbar yourself before dinner on Thursday +evening," he said, turning round and slowly coming toward her. + +"And I refuse to do it," said Etta. + +"Ah!" + +Etta sprung to her feet and faced him--a beautiful woman, a very queen +of anger. Her blazing eyes were on a level with his. + +"Yes," she cried, with clenched fists, standing her full height till she +seemed to look down into his mean, fox-like face. "Yes; I refuse to +betray my husband--" + +"Stop! He is not your husband!" + +Slowly the anger faded out of her eyes; her clenched fists relaxed. Her +fingers were scraping nervously at the silk of her dress, like the +fingers of a child seeking support. She seemed to lose several inches of +her majestic stature. + +"What do you mean?" she whispered. "What do you mean?" + +"Sydney Bamborough is your husband," said the Frenchman, without taking +his dull eyes from her face. + +"He is dead!" she hissed. + +"Prove it!" + +He walked past her and leaned against the mantelpiece in the pose of +easy familiarity which he had maintained during the first portion of +their interview. + +"Prove it, madame!" he said again. + +"He died at Tver," she said; but there was no conviction in her voice. +With her title and position to hold to, she could face the world. +Without these, what was she? + +"A local newspaper reports that the body of a man was discovered on the +plains of Tver and duly buried in the pauper cemetery," said De +Chauxville indifferently. "Your husband--Sydney Bamborough, I mean--was, +for reasons which need not be gone into here, in the neighborhood of +Tver at the time. A police officer, who has since been transferred to +Odessa, was of the opinion that the dead man was a foreigner. There are +about twelve thousand foreigners in Tver--operatives in the +manufactories. Your husband--Sydney Bamborough, bien entendu--left Tver +to proceed eastward and cross Siberia to China in order to avoid the +emissaries of the Charity League, who were looking out for him at the +western frontier. He will be due at one of the treaty ports in China in +about a month. Upon the supposition that the body discovered on the +plains of Tver was that of your husband, you took the opportunity of +becoming a princess. It was enterprising. I admire your spirit. But it +was dangerous. I, madame, can suppress Sydney Bamborough when he turns +up. I have two arrows in my quiver for him; one is the Charity League, +the other the Russian Government, who want him. Your husband--I beg your +pardon, the prince--would perhaps take a different view of the case. It +is a pretty story. I will tell it to him unless I have your implicit +obedience." + +Etta stood dry-lipped before him. She tried to speak, but no words came +from her lips. + +De Chauxville looked at her with a quiet smile of triumph, and she knew +that he loved her. There is no defining love, nor telling when it merges +into hatred. + +"Thursday evening, before dinner," said De Chauxville. + +And he left her standing on the hearth-rug, her lips moving and framing +no words. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +AN APPEAL + +"Have you spoken to the princess?" asked Steinmetz, without taking the +cigar from his lips. + +They were driving home through the forest that surrounded Osterno as the +sea surrounds an island. They were alone in the sleigh. That which they +had been doing had required no servant. Paul was driving, and +consequently the three horses were going as hard as they could. The snow +flew past their faces like the foam over the gunwale of a boat that is +thrashing into a ten-knot breeze. Yet it was not all snow. There were +flecks of foam from the horses' mouths mingled with it. + +"Yes," answered Paul. His face was set and hard, his eyes stern. This +trouble with the peasants was affecting him more keenly than he +suspected. It was changing the man's face--drawing lines about his lips, +streaking his forehead with the marks of care. His position can hardly +be realized by an Englishman unless it be compared to that of the +captain of a great sinking ship full of human souls who have been placed +under his care. + +"And what did she say?" asked Steinmetz. + +"That she would not leave unless we all went with her." + +Steinmetz drew the furs closer up round him. + +"Yes," he said, glancing at his companion's face, and seeing little but +the eyes, by reason of the sable collar of his coat, which met the fur +of his cap; "yes, and why not?" + +"I cannot leave them," answered Paul. "I cannot go away now that there +is trouble among them. What it is, goodness only knows! They would never +have got like this by themselves. Somebody has been at them, and I don't +think it is the Nihilists. It is worse than that. Some devil has been +stirring them up, and they know no better. He is still at it. They are +getting worse day by day, and I cannot catch him. If I do, by God! +Steinmetz, I'll twist his neck." + +Steinmetz smiled grimly. + +"Yes," he answered, "you are capable of it. For me, I am getting tired +of the moujik. He is an inveterate, incurable fool. If he is going to be +a dangerous fool as well, I should almost be inclined to let him go to +the devil in his own way." + +"I dare say; but you are not in my position." + +"No; that is true, Pavlo. They were not my father's serfs. Generations +of my ancestors have not saved generations of their ancestors from +starvation. My fathers before me have not toiled and slaved and +legislated for them. I have not learnt medicine that I might doctor +them. I have not risked my health and life in their sties, where pigs +would refuse to live. I have not given my whole heart and soul to their +welfare, to receive no thanks, but only hatred. No, it is different for +me. I owe them nothing, mein lieber; that is the difference." + +"If I agree to make a bolt for Petersburg to-morrow will you come?" +retorted Paul. + +"No," answered the stout man. + +"I thought not. Your cynicism is only a matter of words, Steinmetz, and +not of deeds. There is no question of either of us leaving Osterno. We +must stay and fight it right out here." + +"That is so," answered Steinmetz, with the Teutonic stolidity of manner +which sometimes came over him. "But the ladies--what of them?" + +Paul did not answer. They were passing over the rise of a heavy drift. +It was necessary to keep the horses up to their work, to prevent the +runners of the sleigh sinking into the snow. With voice and whip Paul +encouraged them. He was kind to animals, but never spared them--a strong +man, who gave freely of his strength and expected an equal generosity. + +"This is no place for Miss Delafield," added Steinmetz, looking straight +in front of him. + +"I know that!" answered Paul sharply. "I wish to God she was not here!" +he added in a lower tone, and the words were lost beneath the frozen +mustache. + +Steinmetz made no answer. They drove on through the gathering gloom. The +sky was of a yellow gray, and the earth reflected the dismal hue of it. +Presently it began to snow, driving in a fine haze from the north. The +two men lapsed into silence. Steinmetz, buried in his furs like a great, +cumbrous bear, appeared to be half asleep. They had had a long and +wearisome day. The horses had covered their forty miles and more from +village to village, where the two men had only gathered discouragement +and foreboding. Some of the starostas were sullen; others openly scared. +None of them were glad to see Steinmetz. Paul had never dared to betray +his identity. With the gendarmes--the tchinovniks--they had not deemed +it wise to hold communication. + +"Stop!" cried Steinmetz suddenly, and Paul pulled the horses on to their +haunches. + +"I thought you were asleep," he said. + +There was no one in sight. They were driving along the new road now, the +high-way Paul had constructed from Osterno to Tver. The road itself was, +of course, indistinguishable, but the telegraph posts marked its course. + +Steinmetz tumbled heavily out of his furs and went toward the nearest +telegraph post. + +"Where is the wire?" he shouted. + +Paul followed him in the sleigh. Together they peered up into the +darkness and the falling snow. The posts were there, but the wire was +gone. A whole length of it had been removed. They were cut off from +civilization by one hundred and forty miles of untrodden snow. + +Steinmetz clambered back into the sleigh and drew up the fur apron. He +gave a strange little laugh that had a ring of boyish excitement in it. +This man had not always been stout and placid. He too had had his day, +and those who knew him said that it had been a stirring one. + +"That settles one question," he said. + +"Which question?" asked Paul. + +He was driving as hard as the horses could lay hoof to ground, taken +with a sudden misgiving and a great desire to reach Osterno before dark. + +"The question of the ladies," replied Steinmetz. "It is too late for +them to go now." + +The village, nestling beneath the grim protection of Osterno, was +deserted and forlorn. All the doors were closed, the meagre curtains +drawn. It was very cold. There was a sense of relief in this great +frost; for when Nature puts forth her strength men are usually cowed +thereby. + +At the castle all seemed to be in order. The groom, in his great +sheepskin coat, was waiting in the doorway. The servants threw open the +vast doors, and stood respectfully in the warm, brilliantly lighted hall +while their master passed in. + +"Where is the princess?" Steinmetz asked his valet, while he was +removing the evidences of a long day in the open air. + +"In her drawing-room, Excellency." + +"Then go and ask her if she will give me a cup of tea in a few minutes." + +And the man, a timorous German, went. + +A few minutes later Steinmetz, presenting himself at the door of the +little drawing-room attached to Etta's suite of rooms, found the +princess in a matchless tea-gown waiting beside a table laden with +silver tea appliances. A dainty samovar, a tiny tea-pot, a spirit-lamp +and the rest, all in the wonderful silver-work of the Slavonski Bazaar +in Moscow. + +"You see," she said with a smile, for she always smiled on men, "I have +obeyed your orders." + +Steinmetz bowed gravely. He was one of the few men who could see that +smile and be strong. He closed the door carefully behind him. No mention +was made of the fact that his message had implied, and she had +understood, that he wished to see her alone. Etta was rather pale. There +was an anxious look in her eyes--behind the smile, as it were. She was +afraid of this man. She looked at the flame of the samovar, busying +herself among the tea-things with pretty curving fingers and rustling +sleeves. But the tea was never made. + +"I begin to think," said Steinmetz, coming to the point in his bluff +way, "that you are a sort of beautiful Jonah, a graceful stormy petrel, +a fair Wandering Jewess. There is always trouble where you go." + +She glanced at his broad face, and read nothing there. + +"Go on," she said. "What have I been doing now? How you do hate me, Herr +Steinmetz!" + +"Perhaps it is safer than loving you," he answered, with his grim humor. + +"I suppose," she said, with a quaint little air of resignation which was +very disarming, "that you have come here to scold me--you do not want +any tea?" + +"No; I do not want any tea." + +She turned the wick of the spirit-lamp, and the peaceful music of the +samovar was still. In her clever eyes there was a little air of sidelong +indecision. She could not make up her mind how to take him. Her chiefest +method was so old as to be biblical. Yet she could not take him with her +eyelids. She had tried. + +"You are horribly grave," she said. + +"The situation," he replied, "is horribly grave." + +Etta looked up at him as he stood before her, and the lamp-light, +falling on the perfect oval of her face, showed it to be white and +drawn. + +"Princess," said the man, "there are in the lives of some of us times +when we cease to be men and women, and become mere human beings. There +are times, I mean, when the thousand influences of sex die at one blow +of fate. This is such a time. We must forget that you are a beautiful +woman; I verily believe that there is none more beautiful in the world. +I once knew one whom I admired more, but that was not because she was +more beautiful. That, however, is my own story, and this"--he paused and +looked round the little room, furnished, decorated for her +comfort--"this is your story. We must forget that I am a man, and +therefore subject to the influence of your beauty." + +She sat looking up into his strong, grave face, and during all that +followed she never moved. + +"I know you," he said, "to be courageous, and must ask you to believe +that I exaggerate nothing in what I am about to tell you. I tell it to +you instead of leaving Paul to do so because I know his complete +fearlessness, and his blind faith in a people who are unworthy of it. He +does not realize the gravity of the situation. They are his own people. +A sailor never believes that his own ship is unseaworthy." + +"Go on!" said Etta, for he had paused. + +"This country," he continued, "is unsettled. The people of the estate +are on the brink of a revolt. You know what the Russian peasant is. It +will be no Parisian émeute, half noise, half laughter. We cannot hope to +hold this old place against them. We cannot get away from it. We cannot +send for help because we have no one to send. Princess, this is no time +for half-confidences. I know--for I know these people better even than +Paul knows them--I am convinced that this is not the outcome of their +own brains. They are being urged on by some one. There is some one at +their backs. This is no revolt of the peasants, organized by the +peasants. Princess, you must tell me all you know!" + +"I--I," she stammered, "I know nothing!" + +And then suddenly she burst into tears, and buried her face in a tiny, +useless handkerchief. It was so unlike her and so sudden that Steinmetz +was startled. + +He laid his great hand soothingly on her shoulder. + +"I know," he said quietly, "I know more than you think. I am no saint, +princess, myself. I too have had my difficulties. I have had my +temptations, and I have not always resisted. God knows it is difficult +for men to do always the right thing. It is a thousand times more +difficult for women. When we spoke together in Petersburg, and I offered +you my poor friendship, I was not acting in the dark. I knew as much +then as I do now. Princess, I knew about the Charity League papers. I +knew more than any except Stépan Lanovitch, and it was he who told me." + +He was stroking her shoulder with the soothing movements that one uses +toward a child in distress. His great hand, broad and thick, had a +certain sense of quiet comfort and strength in it. Etta ceased sobbing, +and sat with bowed head, looking through her tears into the gay wood +fire. It is probable that she failed to realize the great charity of the +man who was speaking to her. For the capacity for evil merges at some +point or other into incapability for comprehending good. + +"Is that all he knows?" she was wondering. + +The suggestion that Sydney Bamborough was not dead had risen up to +eclipse all other fear in her mind. In some part her thought reached +him. + +"I know so much," he said, "that it is safest to tell me more. I offered +you my friendship because I think that no woman could carry through your +difficulties unaided. Princess, the admiration of Claude de Chauxville +may be pleasant, but I venture to think that my friendship is +essential." + +Etta raised her head a little. She was within an ace of handing over to +Karl Steinmetz the rod of power held over her by the Frenchman. There +was something in Steinmetz that appealed to her and softened her, +something that reached a tender part of her heart through the coating of +vanity, through the hardness of worldly experience. + +"I have known De Chauxville twenty-five years," he went on, and Etta +deferred her confession. "We have never been good friends, I admit. I am +no saint, princess, but De Chauxville is a villain. Some day you may +discover, when it is too late, that it would have been for Paul's +happiness, for your happiness, for every one's good to have nothing more +to do with Claude de Chauxville, I want to save you that discovery. Will +you act upon my advice? Will you make a stand now? Will you come to me +and tell me all that De Chauxville knows about you that he could ever +use against you? Will you give yourself into my hands--give me your +battle to fight? You cannot do it alone. Only believe in my friendship, +princess. That is all I ask." + +Etta shook her head. + +"I think not," she answered, in a voice too light, too superficial, too +hopelessly shallow for the depth of the moment. She was thinking only of +Sydney Bamborough, and of that dread secret. She fought with what arms +she wielded best--the lightest, the quickest, the most baffling. + +"As you will," said Steinmetz. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM + +A Russian village kabak, with a smoking lamp, of which the chimney is +broken. The greasy curtains drawn across the small windows exclude the +faintest possibility of a draught. The moujik does not like a draught; +in fact, he hates the fresh air of heaven. Air that has been breathed +three or four times over is the air for him; it is warmer. The +atmosphere of this particular inn is not unlike that of every other inn +in the White Empire, inasmuch as it is heavily seasoned with the scent +of cabbage soup. The odor of this nourishing compound is only exceeded +in unpleasantness by the taste of the same. Added to this warm smell +there is the smoke of a score of the very cheapest cigarettes. The +Russian peasant smokes his cigarette now. It is the first step, and it +does not cost him much. It is the dawn of progress--the thin end of the +wedge which will broaden out into anarchy. The poor man who smokes a +cigarette is sure to pass on to socialistic opinions and troubles in the +market-place. Witness the cigarette-smoking countries. Moreover, this +same poor man is not a pleasant companion. He smokes a poor cigarette. + +There is also the smell of vodka, which bottled curse is standing in +tumblers all down the long table. The news has spread in Osterno that +vodka is to be had for the asking at the kabak, where there is a +meeting. Needless to say, the meeting is a large one. Foolishness and +thirst are often found in the same head--a cranium which, by the way, is +exceptionally liable to be turned by knowledge or drink. + +If the drink at the kabak of Osterno was dangerous, the knowledge was no +less so. + +"I tell you, little fathers," an orator was shouting, "that the day of +the capitalist has gone. The rich men--the princes, the nobles, the +great merchants, the monopolists, the tchinovniks--tremble. They know +that the poor man is awakening at last from his long lethargy. What have +we done in Germany? What have we done in America? What have we done in +England and France?" + +Whereupon he banged an unwashed fist upon the table with such emphasis +that more than one of the audience clutched his glass of vodka in alarm, +lest a drop of the precious liquor should be wasted. + +No one seemed to know what had been done in Germany, in America, in +England, or in France. The people's orator is a man of many questions +and much fist-banging. The moujiks of Osterno gazed at him beneath their +shaggy brows. Half of them did not understand him. They were as yet +uneducated to a comprehension of the street orator's periods. A few of +the more intelligent waited for him to answer his own questions, which +he failed to do. A vague and ominous question carries as much weight +with some people as a statement, and has the signal advantage of being +less incriminating. + +The speaker--a neckless, broad-shouldered ruffian of the type known in +England as "unemployed"--looked round with triumphant head well thrown +back. From his attitude it was obvious that he had been the salvation of +the countries named, and had now come to Russia to do the same for her. +He spoke with the throaty accent of the Pole. It was quite evident that +his speech was a written one--probably a printed harangue issued to him +and his compeers for circulation throughout the country. He delivered +many of the longer words with a certain unctuous roll of the tongue, and +an emphasis indicating the fact that he did not know their meaning. + +"From afar," he went on, "we have long been watching you. We have noted +your difficulties and your hardships, your sickness, your starvation. +'These men of Tver,' we have said, 'are brave and true and steadfast. We +will tell them of liberty.' So I have come to you, and I am glad to see +you. Alexander Alexandrovitch, pass the bottle down the table. You see, +little fathers, I have not come begging for your money. No; keep your +kopecks in your pocket. We do not want your money. We are no +tchinovniks. We prove it by giving you vodka to keep your throats wet +and your ears open. Fill up your glasses--fill up your glasses!" + +The little fathers of Osterno understood this part of the harangue +perfectly, and acted upon it. + +The orator scratched his head reflectively. There was a certain +business-like mouthing of his periods, showing that he had learnt all +this by heart. He did not press all his points home in the manner of one +speaking from his own brain. + +"I see before me," he went on, without an overplus of sequence, "men +worthy to take their place among the rulers of the world--eh--er--rulers +of the world, little fathers." + +He paused and drank half a tumbler of vodka. His last statement was so +obviously inapplicable--what he actually did see was so very far removed +from what he said he saw--that he decided to relinquish the point. + +"I drink," he cried, "to Liberty and Equality!" + +Some of the little fathers also drank, to assuage an hereditary thirst. + +"And now," continued the orator, "let us get to business. I think we +understand each other?" + +He looked round with an engaging smile upon faces brutal enough to suit +his purpose, but quite devoid of intelligence. There was not much +understanding there. + +"The poor man has one only way of making himself felt--force. We have +worked for generations, we have toiled in silence, and we have gathered +strength. The time has now come for us to put forth our strength. The +time has gone by for merely asking for what we want. We asked, and they +heard us not. We will now go and take!" + +A few who had heard this speech or something like it before shouted +their applause at this moment. Before the noise had subsided the door +opened, and two or three men pushed their way into the already +overcrowded room. + +"Come in, come in!" cried the orator; "the more the better. You are all +welcome. All we require, then, little fathers, is organization. There +are nine hundred souls in Osterno; are you going to bow down before one +man? All men are equal--moujik and bárin, krestyanin and prince. Why do +you not go up to the castle that frowns down upon the village, and tell +the man there that you are starving, that he must feed you, that you are +not going to work from dawn till eve while he sits on his velvet couch +and smokes his gold-tipped cigarettes. Why do you not go and tell him +that you are not going to starve and die while he eats caviare and +peaches from gold plates and dishes?" + +A resounding bang of the fist finished this fine oration, and again the +questions were unanswered. + +"They are all the same, these aristocrats," the man thundered on. "Your +prince is as the others, I make no doubt. Indeed, I know; for I have +been told by our good friend Abramitch here. A clever man our friend +Abramitch, and when you get your liberty--when you get your Mir--you +must keep him in mind. Your prince, then--this Howard Alexis--treats you +like the dirt beneath his feet. Is it not so? He will not listen to your +cry of hunger. He will not give you a few crumbs of food from his gold +dishes. He will not give you a few kopecks of the millions of rubles +that he possesses. And where did he get those rubles? Ah! where did he +get them--eh? Tell me that!" + +Again the interrogative unwashed fist. As the orator's wild and frenzied +eye travelled round the room it lighted on a form near the door--a man +standing a head and shoulders above any one in the room, a man enveloped +in an old brown coat, with a woollen shawl round his throat, hiding half +his face. + +"Who is that?" cried the orator, with an unsteady, pointing finger. "He +is no moujik. Is that a tchinovnik, little fathers? Has he come here to +our meeting to spy upon us?" + +"You may ask them who I am," replied the giant. "They know; they will +tell you. It is not the first time that I tell them they are fools. I +tell them again now. They are fools and worse to listen to such windbags +as you." + +"Who is it?" cried the paid agitator. "Who is this man?" + +His eyes were red with anger and with vodka; his voice was unsteady. His +outstretched hand shook. + +"It is the Moscow doctor," said a man beside him--"the Moscow doctor." + +"Then I say he is no doctor!" shouted the orator. "He is a spy--a +Government spy, a tchinovnik! He has heard all we have said. He has seen +you all. Brothers, that man must not leave this room alive. If he does, +you are lost men!" + +Some few of the more violent spirits rose and pressed tumultuously +toward the door. The agitator shouted and screamed, urging them on, +taking good care to remain in the safe background himself. Every man in +the room rose to his feet. They were full of vodka and fury and +ignorance. Spirit and tall talk, taken on an empty stomach, are +dangerous stimulants. + +Paul stood with his back to the door and never moved. + +"Sit down, fools!" he cried. "Sit down! Listen to me. You dare not touch +me; you know that." + +It seemed that he was right, for they stopped with staring, stupid eyes +and idle hands. + +"Will you listen to me, whom you have known for years, or to this talker +from the town? Choose now. I am tired of you. I have been patient with +you for years. You are sheep; are you fools also, to be dazzled by the +words of an idle talker who promises all and gives nothing?" + +There was a sullen silence. Paul had lost his power over them, and he +knew it. He was quite cool and watchful. He knew that he was in danger. +These men were wild and ignorant. They were mad with drink and the brave +words of the agitator. + +"Choose now!" he shouted, feeling for the handle of the door behind his +back. + +They made no sign, but watched the faces of their leaders. + +"If I go now," said Paul, "I never come again!" + +He opened the door. The men whom he had nursed and clothed and fed, +whose lives he had saved again and again, stood sullen and silent. + +Paul passed slowly out and closed the door behind him. Without it was +dark and still. There would be a moon presently, and in the meantime it +was preparing to freeze harder than ever. + +Paul walked slowly up the village street, while two men emerged +separately from the darkness of by-lanes and followed him. He did not +heed them. He was not aware that the thermometer stood somewhere below +zero. He did not even trouble to draw on his fur gloves. + +He felt like a man whose own dogs have turned against him. The place +that these peasants had occupied in his heart had been precisely that +vacancy which is filled by dogs and horses in the hearts of many men. +There was in his feeling for them that knowledge of a complete +dependence by which young children draw and hold a mother's love. + +Paul Howard Alexis was not a man to analyze his thoughts. Your strong +man is usually ignorant of the existence of his own feelings. He is +never conscious of them. Paul walked slowly through the village of +Osterno, and realized, in his uncompromising honesty, that of the nine +hundred men who lived therein there were not three upon whom he could +rely. He had upheld his peasants for years against the cynic truths of +Karl Steinmetz. He had resolutely refused to admit even to himself that +they were as devoid of gratitude as they were of wisdom. And this was +the end of all! + +One of the men following him hurried on and caught him up. + +"Excellency," he gasped, breathless with his haste, "you must not come +here alone any longer. I am afraid of them--I have no control." + +Paul paused, and suited his pace to the shorter legs of his companion. + +"Starosta!" he said. "Is that you?" + +"Yes, Excellency. I saw you go into the kabak, so I waited outside and +watched. I did not dare to go inside. They will not allow me there. They +are afraid that I should give information." + +"How long have these meetings been going on?" + +"The last three nights, Excellency, in Osterno; but it is the same all +over the estate." + +"Only on the estate?" + +"Yes, Excellency." + +"Are you sure of that?" + +"Yes, Excellency." + +Paul walked on in silence for some paces. The third man followed them +without catching them up. + +"I do not understand, Excellency," said the starosta anxiously. "It is +not the Nihilists." + +"No; it is not the Nihilists." + +"And they do not want money, Excellency; that seems strange." + +"Very!" admitted Paul ironically. + +"And they give vodka." + +This seemed to be the chief stumbling-block in the starosta's road to a +solution of the mystery. + +"Find out for me," said Paul, after a pause, "who this man is, where he +comes from, and how much he is paid to open his mouth. We will pay him +more to shut it. Find out as much as you can, and let me know +to-morrow." + +"I will try, Excellency; but I have little hope of succeeding. They +distrust me. They send the children to my shop for what they want, and +the little ones have evidently been told not to chatter. The moujiks +avoid me when they meet me. What can I do?" + +"You can show them that you are not afraid of them," answered Paul. +"That goes a long way with the moujik." + +They walked on together through the lane of cottages, where furtive +forms lurked in door-ways and behind curtains. And Paul had only one +word of advice to give, upon which he harped continually: "Be thou very +courageous--be thou very courageous." Nothing new, for so it was written +in the oldest book of all. The starosta was a timorous man, needing such +strong support as his master gave him from time to time. + +At the great gates of the park they paused, and Paul gave the mayor of +Osterno a few last words of advice. While they were standing there the +other man who had been following joined them. + +"Is that you, Steinmetz?" asked Paul, his hand thrust with suspicious +speed into his jacket pocket. + +"Yes." + +"What are you doing here?" + +"Watching you," answered Karl Steinmetz, in his mild way. "It is no +longer safe for either of us to go about alone. It was mere foolery your +going to that kabak." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +À TROIS + +Of all the rooms in the great castle Etta liked the morning-room best. +Persons of a troubled mind usually love to look upon a wide prospect. +The mind, no doubt, fears the unseen approach of detection or danger, +and transmits this dread to the eye, which likes to command a wide view +all around. + +The great drawing-room was only used after dinner. Until that time the +ladies spent the day either in their own boudoirs or in the morning-room +looking over the cliff. Here, while the cold weather lasted, Etta had +tea served, and thither the gentlemen usually repaired at the hour set +apart for the homely meal. They had come regularly the last few +evenings. Paul and Steinmetz had suddenly given up their long drives to +distant parts of the estate. + +Here the whole party was assembled on the Sunday afternoon following +Paul's visit to the village kabak, and to them came an unexpected guest. +The door was thrown open, and Claude de Chauxville, pale, but +self-possessed and quiet, came into the room. The perfect ease of his +manner bespoke a practised familiarity with the position difficult. His +last parting with Paul and Steinmetz had been, to say the least of it, +strained. Maggie, he knew, disliked and distrusted him. Etta hated and +feared him. + +He was in riding costume--a short fur jacket, fur gloves, a cap in his +hand, and a silver-mounted crop. A fine figure of a man--smart, well +turned out, well-groomed--a gentleman. + +"Prince," he said frankly, "I have come to throw myself upon your +generosity. Will you lend me a horse? I was riding in the forest when my +horse fell over a root and lamed himself. I found I was only three miles +from Osterno, so I came. My misfortune must be my excuse for +this--intrusion." + +Paul performed graciously enough that which charity and politeness +demanded of him. There are plenty of people who trade unscrupulously +upon these demands, but it is probable that they mostly have their +reward. Love and friendship are stronger than charity and politeness, +and those who trade upon the latter are rarely accorded the former. + +So Paul ignored the probability that De Chauxville had lamed his horse +on purpose, and offered him refreshment while his saddle was being +transferred to the back of a fresh mount. Farther than that he did not +go. He did not consider himself called upon to offer a night's +hospitality to the man who had attempted to murder him a week before. + +With engaging frankness De Chauxville accepted every thing. It is an art +soon acquired and soon abused. There is something honest in an +ungracious acceptance of favors. Steinmetz suggested that perhaps M. de +Chauxville had lunched sparsely, and the Frenchman admitted that such +was the case, but that he loved afternoon tea above all meals. + +"It is so innocent and simple--I know. I have the same feeling myself," +concurred Steinmetz courteously. + +"Do you ride about the country much alone?" asked Paul, while the +servants were setting before this uninvited guest a few more substantial +delicacies. + +"Ah, no, prince! This is my first attempt, and if it had not procured me +this pleasure I should say that it will be my last." + +"It is easy to lose yourself," said Paul; "besides"--and the two friends +watched the Frenchman's face closely--"besides, the country is disturbed +at present." + +De Chauxville was helping himself daintily to pâté de foie gras. + +"Ah, indeed! Is that so?" he answered. "But they would not hurt me--a +stranger in the land." + +"And an orphan, too, I have no doubt," added Steinmetz, with a laugh. +"But would the moujik pause to enquire, my very dear De Chauxville?" + +"At all events, I should not pause to answer," replied the Frenchman, in +the same, light tone. "I should evacuate. Ah, mademoiselle," he went on, +addressing Maggie, "they have been attempting to frighten you, I +suspect, with their stories of disturbed peasantry. It is to keep up the +lurid local color. They must have their romance, these Russians." + +And so the ball was kept rolling. There was never any lack of +conversation when Steinmetz and De Chauxville were together, nor was the +talk without sub-flavor of acidity. At length the centre of attention +himself diverted that attention. He inaugurated an argument over the +best cross-country route from Osterno to Thors, which sent Steinmetz out +of the room for a map. During the absence of the watchful German he +admired the view from the window, and this strategetic movement enabled +him to say to Etta aside: + +"I must see you before I leave the house; it is absolutely necessary." + +Not long after the return of Steinmetz and the final decision respecting +the road to Thors, Etta left the room, and a few minutes later the +servant announced that the baron's horse was at the door. + +De Chauxville took his leave at once, with many assurances of lasting +gratitude. + +"Kindly," he added, "make my adieux to the princess; I will not trouble +her." + +Quite by accident he met Etta at the head of the state staircase, and +expressed such admiration for the castle that she opened the door of the +large drawing-room and took him to see that apartment. + +"What I arranged for Thursday is for the day after to-morrow--Tuesday," +said De Chauxville, as soon as they were alone. "We cannot keep them +back any longer. You understand--the side door to be opened at seven +o'clock. Ah! who is this?" + +They both turned. Steinmetz was standing behind them, but he could not +have heard De Chauxville's words. He closed the door carefully, and came +forward with his grim smile. + +"À nous trois!" he said, and the subsequent conversation was in the +language in which these three understood each other best. + +De Chauxville bit his lip and waited. It was a moment of the tensest +suspense. + +"À nous trois!" repeated Steinmetz. "De Chauxville, you love an epigram. +The man who overestimates the foolishness of others is himself the +biggest fool concerned. A lame horse--the prince's generosity--making +your adieux. Mon Dieu! you should know me better than that after all +these years. No, you need not look at the door. No one will interrupt +us. I have seen to that." + +His attitude and manner indicated a complete mastery of the situation, +but whether this assumption was justified by fact or was a mere trick it +was impossible to say. There was in the man something strong and good +and calm--a manner never acquired by one who has anything to conceal. +His dignity was perfect. One forgot his stoutness, his heavy breathing, +his ungainly size. He was essentially manly, and a presence to be +feared. The strength of his will made itself felt. + +He turned to the princess with the grave courtesy that always marked his +attitude toward her. + +"Madame," he said, "I fully recognize your cleverness in raising +yourself to the position you now occupy. But I would remind you that +that position carries with it certain obligations. It is hardly +dignified for a princess to engage herself in a vulgar love intrigue in +her own house." + +"It is not a vulgar love intrigue!" cried Etta, with blazing eyes. "I +will not allow you to say that! Where is your boasted friendship? Is +this a sample of it?" + +Karl Steinmetz bowed gravely, with outspread hands. + +"Madame, that friendship is at your service, now as always." + +De Chauxville gave a scornful little laugh. He was biting the end of his +mustache as he watched Etta's face. For a moment the woman stood--not +the first woman to stand thus--between two fears. Then she turned to +Steinmetz. The victory was his--the greatest he had ever torn from the +grasp of Claude de Chauxville. + +"You know," she said, "that this man has me in his power." + +"You alone. But not both of us together," answered Steinmetz. + +De Chauxville looked uneasy. He gave a careless little laugh. + +"My good Steinmetz, you allow your imagination to run away with you. You +interfere in what does not concern you." + +"My very dear De Chauxville, I think not. At all events, I am going to +continue to interfere." + +Etta looked from one to the other. She had at the first impulse gone +over to Steinmetz. She was now meditating drawing back. If De Chauxville +kept cool all might yet be well--the dread secret of the probability of +Sydney Bamborough being alive might still be withheld from Steinmetz. +For the moment it would appear that she was about to occupy the +ignominious position of the bone of contention. If these two men were +going to use her as a mere excuse to settle a lifelong quarrel of many +issues, it was probable that there would not be much left of her +character by the time that they had finished. + +She had to decide quickly. She decided to assume the role of peacemaker. + +"M. de Chauxville was on the point of going," she said. "Let him go." + +"M. de Chauxville is not going until I have finished with him, madame. +This may be the last time we meet. I hope it is." + +De Chauxville looked uneasy. His was a ready wit, and fear was the only +feeling that paralyzed it. Etta looked at him. Was his wit going to +desert him now when he most needed it? He had ridden boldly into the +lion's den. Such a proceeding requires a certain courage, but a higher +form of intrepidity is required to face the lion standing before the +exit. + +De Chauxville looked at Steinmetz with shifty eyes. He was very like the +mask of the lynx in the smoking-room, even to the self-conscious, +deprecatory smile on the countenance of the forest sneak. + +"Keep your temper," he said; "do not let us quarrel in the presence of a +lady." + +"No; we will keep the quarrel till afterward." + +Steinmetz turned to Etta. + +"Princess," he said, "will you now, in my presence, forbid this man to +come to this or any other house of yours? Will you forbid him to address +himself either by speech or letter to you again?" + +"You know I cannot do that," replied Etta. + +"Why not?" + +Etta made no answer. + +"Because," replied De Chauxville for her, "the princess is too wise to +make an enemy of me. In that respect she is wiser than you. She knows +that I could send you and your prince to Siberia." + +Steinmetz laughed. + +"Nonsense!" he said. "Princess," he went on, "if you think that the fact +of De Chauxville numbering among his friends a few obscure police spies +gives him the right to persecute you, you are mistaken. Our friend is +very clever, but he can do no harm with the little that he knows of the +Charity League." + +Etta remained silent. The silence made Steinmetz frown. + +"Princess," he said gravely, "you were indignant just now because I made +so bold as to put the most natural construction upon the circumstances +in which I found you. It was a prearranged meeting between De Chauxville +and yourself. If the meeting was not the outcome of an intrigue such as +I mentioned, nor the result of this man's hold over you on account of +the Charity League, what was it? I beg of you to answer." + +Etta made no reply. Instead, she raised her eyes and looked at De +Chauxville. + +"Without going into affairs which do not concern you," said the +Frenchman, answering for her, "I think you will recognize that the +secret of the Charity League was quite sufficient excuse for me to +request a few minutes alone with the princess." + +Of this Steinmetz took no notice. He was standing in front of Etta, +between De Chauxville and the door. His broad, deeply lined face was +flushed with the excitement of the moment. His great mournful eyes, +yellow and drawn with much reading and the hardships of a rigorous +climate, were fixed anxiously on her face. + +Etta was not looking at him. Her eyes were turned toward the window, but +they did not see with comprehension. She was stony and stubborn. + +"Princess," said Steinmetz, "answer me before it is too late. Has De +Chauxville any other hold over you?" + +Etta nodded, and the little action brought a sudden gleam to the +Frenchman's eyes. + +"If," said Steinmetz, looking from one to the other, "if you two have +been deceiving Paul I will have no mercy, I warn you of that." + +Etta turned on him. + +"Can you not believe me?" she cried. "I have practised no deception in +common with M. de Chauxville." + +"The Charity League is quite enough for you, my friend," put in the +Frenchman hurriedly. + +"You know no more of the Charity League than you did before--than the +whole world knew before--except this lady's share in the disposal of the +papers," said Steinmetz. + +"And this lady's share in the disposal of the papers will not be welcome +news to the prince," answered De Chauxville. + +"Welcome or unwelcome, he shall be told of it to-night." + +Etta looked round sharply, her lips apart and trembling. + +"By whom?" asked De Chauxville. + +"By me," replied Steinmetz. + +There was a momentary pause. De Chauxville and Etta exchanged a glance. +Etta felt that she was lost. This Frenchman was not one to spare either +man or woman from any motive of charity or chivalry. + +"Even if that is so," he said, "the princess is not relieved from the +embarrassment of her situation." + +"No?" + +"No, my astute friend. There is a little matter connected with Sydney +Bamborough which has come to my knowledge." + +Etta moved, but she said nothing. The sound of her breathing was +startlingly loud. + +"Ah! Sydney Bamborough," said Steinmetz slowly. "What about him?" + +"He is not dead; that is all." + +Karl Steinmetz passed his broad hand down over his face, covering his +mouth for a second. + +"But he died. He was found on the steppe, and buried at Tver." + +"So the story runs," said De Chauxville, with easy sarcasm. "But who +found him on the steppe? Who buried him at Tver?" + +"I did, my friend." + +The next second Steinmetz staggered back a step or two as Etta fell +heavily into his arms. But he never took his eyes off De Chauxville. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + + +À DEUX + +Steinmetz laid Etta on a sofa. She was already recovering consciousness. +He rang the bell twice, and all the while he kept his eye on De +Chauxville. A quick touch on Etta's wrist and breast showed that this +man knew something of women and of those short-lived fainting fits that +belong to strong emotions. + +The maid soon came. + +"The princess requires your attention," said Steinmetz, still watching +De Chauxville, who was looking at Etta and neglecting his opportunities. + +Steinmetz went up to him and took him by the arm. + +"Come with me," he said. + +The Frenchman could have taken advantage of the presence of the servant +to effect a retreat, but he did not dare to do so. It was essential that +he should obtain a few words with Etta. To effect this, he was ready +even to face an interview with Steinmetz. In his heart he was cursing +that liability to inconvenient fainting fits that make all women +unreliable in a moment of need. + +He preceded Steinmetz out of the room, forgetting even to resent the +large, warm grasp on his arm. They went through the long, dimly lit +passage to the old part of the castle, where Steinmetz had his rooms. + +"And now," said Steinmetz, when they were alone with closed doors, "and +now, De Chauxville, let us understand each other." + +De Chauxville shrugged his shoulders. He was not thinking of Steinmetz +yet. He was still thinking of Etta and how he could get speech with her. +With the assurance which had carried him through many a difficulty +before this, the Frenchman looked round him, taking in the details of +the room. They were in the apartment beyond the large smoking room--the +ante-room, as it were, to the little chamber where Paul kept his +medicine-chest, his disguise, all the compromising details of his work +among the peasants. The broad writing-table in the middle of the room +stood between the two men. + +"Do you imagine yourself in love with the princess?" asked Steinmetz +suddenly, with characteristic bluntness. + +"If you like," returned the other. + +"If I thought that it was that," said the German, looking at him +thoughtfully, "I would throw you out of the window. If it is any thing +else, I will only throw you down stairs." + +De Chauxville bit his thumb-nail anxiously. He frowned across the table +into Steinmetz's face. In all their intercourse he had never heard that +tone of voice; he had never seen quite that look on the heavy face. Was +Steinmetz aroused at last? Steinmetz aroused was an unknown quantity to +Claude de Chauxville. + +"I have known you now for twenty-five years," went on Karl Steinmetz, +"and I cannot say that I know any good of you. But let that pass; it is +not, I suppose, my business. The world is as the good God made it. I can +do nothing toward bettering it. I have always known you to be a +scoundrel--a fact to be deplored--and that is all. But so soon as your +villany affects my own life, then, my friend, a more active recognition +of it is necessary." + +"Indeed!" sneered the Frenchman. + +"Your villany has touched Paul's life, and at that point it touches +mine," continued Karl Steinmetz, with slow anger. "You followed us to +Petersburg--thence you dogged us to the Government of Tver. You twisted +that foolish woman, the Countess Lanovitch, round your finger, and +obtained from her an invitation to Thors. All this in order to be near +one of us. Ach! I have been watching you. Is it only after twenty-five +years that I at last convince you that I am not such a fool as you are +pleased to consider me?" + +"You have not convinced me yet," put in De Chauxville, with his easy +laugh. + +"No, but I shall do so before I have finished with you. Now, you have +not come here for nothing. It is to be near one of us. It is not Miss +Delafield; she knows you. Some women--good women--have an instinct given +to them by God for a defence against such men--such things as you. Is it +I?" + +He touched his broad chest with his two hands, and stood defying his +life-long foe. + +"Is it me that you follow? If so, I am here. Let us have done with it +now." + +De Chauxville laughed. There was an uneasy look in his eyes. He did not +quite understand Steinmetz. He made no answer. But he turned and looked +at the window. It is possible that he suddenly remembered the threat +concerning it. + +"Is it Paul?" continued Steinmetz. "I think not. I think you are afraid +of Paul. Remains the princess. Unless you can convince me to the +contrary, I must conclude that you are trying to get a helpless woman +into your power." + +"You always were a champion of helpless ladies," sneered De Chauxville. + +"Ah! You remember that, do you? I also--I remember it. It is long ago, +and I have forgiven you; but I have not forgotten. What you were then +you will be now. Your record is against you." + +Steinmetz was standing with his back to what appeared to be the only +exit from the room. There were two other doors concealed in the oaken +panels, but De Chauxville did not know that. He could not take his eyes +from the broad face of his companion, upon which there were singular +blotches of color. + +"I am waiting," said the German, "for you to explain your conduct." + +"Indeed!" replied De Chauxville. "Then, my friend, you will have to +continue waiting. I fail to recognize your right to make enquiry into my +movements. I am not responsible to any man for my actions, least of all +to you. The man who manages his neighbor's affairs mismanages his own. I +would recommend you to mind your own business. Kindly let me pass." + +De Chauxville's words were brave enough, but his lips were unsteady. A +weak mouth is apt to betray its possessor at inconvenient moments. He +waved Steinmetz aside, but he made no movement toward the door. He kept +the table between him and his companion. + +Steinmetz was getting calmer. There was an uncanny hush about him. + +"Then I am to conclude," he said, "that you came to Russia in order to +persecute a helpless woman. Her innocence or her guilt is, for the +moment, beside the question. Neither is any business of yours. Both, on +the contrary, are my affair. Innocent or guilty, the Princess Howard +Alexis must from this moment be freed from your persecution." + +De Chauxville shrugged his shoulders. He tapped on the floor impatiently +with the toe of his neat riding-boot. + +"Allons!" he said. "Let me pass!" + +"Your story of Sydney Bamborough," went on Steinmetz coldly, "was a good +one wherewith to frighten a panic-stricken woman. But you brought it to +the wrong person when you brought it to me. Do you suppose that I would +have allowed the marriage to take place unless I knew that Bamborough +was dead?" + +"You may be telling the truth about that incident or you may not," said +De Chauxville. "But my knowledge of the betrayal of the Charity League +is sufficient for my purpose." + +"Yes," admitted Steinmetz grimly, "you have information there with +possibilities of mischief in it. But I shall discount most of it by +telling Prince Pavlo to-night all that I know, and I know more than you +do. Also, I intend to seal your lips before you leave this room." + +De Chauxville stared at him with a dropping lip. He gulped down +something in his throat. His hand was stealing round under the fur +jacket to a pocket at the back of his trousers. + +"Let me out!" he hissed. + +There was a gleam of bright metal in the sunlight that poured in through +the window. De Chauxville raised his arm sharply, and at the same +instant Steinmetz threw a book in his face. A loud report, and the room +was full of smoke. + +Steinmetz placed one hand on the table and, despite his weight, vaulted +it cleanly. This man had taken his degree at Heidelberg, and the Germans +are the finest gymnasts in the world. Moreover, muscle, once made, +remains till death. It was his only chance, for the Frenchman had dodged +the novel, but it spoiled his aim. Steinmetz vaulted right on to him, +and De Chauxville staggered back. + +In a moment Steinmetz had him by the collar; his face was gray, his +heavy eyes ablaze. If any thing will rouse a man, it is being fired at +point-blank at a range of four yards with a .280 revolver. + +"Ach!" gasped the German; "you would shoot me, would you?" + +He wrenched the pistol from De Chauxville's fingers and threw it into +the corner of the room. Then he shook the man like a garment. + +"First," he cried, "you would kill Paul, and now you try to shoot me! +Good God! what are you? You are no man. Do you know what I am going to +do with you? I am going to thrash you like a dog!" + +He dragged him to the fire-place. Above the mantelpiece a stick-rack was +affixed to the wall, and here were sticks and riding-whips. Steinmetz +selected a heavy whip. His eyes were shot with blood; his mouth worked +beneath his mustache. + +"So," he said, "I am going to settle with you at last." + +De Chauxville kicked and struggled, but he could not get free. He only +succeeded in half choking himself. + +"You are going to swear," said Steinmetz, "never to approach the +princess again--never to divulge what you know of her past life." + +The Frenchman was almost blue in the face. His eyes were wild with +terror. + +And Karl Steinmetz thrashed him. + +It did not last long. No word was spoken. The silence was only broken by +their shuffling feet, by the startling report of each blow, by De +Chauxville's repeated gasps of pain. + +The fur jacket was torn in several places. The white shirt appeared here +and there. In one place it was stained with red. + +At last Steinmetz threw him huddled into one corner of the room. The +chattering face, the wild eyes that looked up at him, were terrible to +see. + +"When you have promised to keep the secret you may go," said Steinmetz. +"You must swear it." + +De Chauxville's lips moved, but no sound came from them. Steinmetz +poured some water into a tumbler and gave it to him. + +"It had to come to this," he said, "sooner or later. Paul would have +killed you; that is the only difference. Do you swear by God in heaven +above you that you will keep the princess's secret?" + +"I swear it," answered De Chauxville hoarsely. + +Steinmetz was holding on to the back of a high chair with both hands, +breathing heavily. His face was still livid. That which had been white +in his eyes was quite red. + +De Chauxville was crawling toward the revolver in the corner of the +room, but he was almost fainting. It was a question whether he would +last long enough to reach the fire-arm. There was a bright patch of red +in either liver-colored cheek; his lips were working convulsively. And +Steinmetz saw him in time. He seized him by the collar of his coat and +dragged him back. He placed his foot on the little pistol and faced De +Chauxville with glaring eyes. De Chauxville rose to his feet, and for a +moment the two men looked into each other's souls. The Frenchman's face +was twisted with pain. No word was said. + +Such was the last reckoning between Karl Steinmetz and the Baron Claude +de Chauxville. + +The Frenchman went slowly toward the door. He faltered and looked round +for a chair. He sat heavily down with a little exclamation of pain and +exhaustion, and felt for his pocket-handkerchief. The scented cambric +diffused a faint, dainty odor of violets. He sat forward with his two +hands on his knees, swaying a little from side to side. Presently he +raised his handkerchief to his face. There were tears in his eyes. + +Thus the two men waited until De Chauxville had recovered himself +sufficiently to take his departure. The air was full of naked human +passions. It was rather a grewsome scene. + +At last the Frenchman stood slowly up, and with characteristic thought +of appearances fingered his torn coat. + +"Have you a cloak?" asked Steinmetz. + +"No." + +The German went to a cupboard in the wall and selected a long +riding-cloak, which he handed to the Frenchman without a word. + +Thus Claude de Chauxville walked to the door in a cloak which had +figured at many a Charity League meeting. Assuredly the irony of Fate is +a keener thing than any poor humor we have at our command. When evil is +punished in this present life there is no staying of the hand. + +Steinmetz followed De Chauxville through the long passage they had +traversed a few minutes earlier and down the broad staircase. The +servants were waiting at the door with the horse put at the Frenchman's +disposal by Paul. + +De Chauxville mounted slowly, heavily, with twitching lips. His face was +set and cold now. The pain was getting bearable, the wounded vanity was +bleeding inwardly. In his dull eyes there was a gleam of hatred and +malice. It was the face of a man rejoicing inwardly over a deep and +certain vengeance. + +"It is well!" he was muttering between his clenched teeth as he rode +away, while Steinmetz watched him from the doorstep. "It is well! Now I +will not spare you." + +He rode down the hill and through the village, with the light of the +setting sun shining on a face where pain and deadly rage were fighting +for the mastery. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + + +A TALE THAT IS TOLD + +Karl Steinmetz walked slowly upstairs to his own room. The evening sun, +shining through the small, deeply embrasured windows, fell on a face at +no time joyous, now tired and worn. He sat down at his broad +writing-table, and looked round the room with a little blink of the +eyelids. + +"I am getting too old for this sort of thing," he said. + +His gaze lighted on the heavy riding-whip thrown on the ground near the +door where he had released Claude de Chauxville, after the terrible +punishment meted out to that foe with heavy Teutonic hand. Steinmetz +rose, and picking up the whip with the grunt of a stout man stooping, +replaced it carefully in the rack over the mantelpiece. + +He stood looking out of the window for a few moments. + +"It will have to be done," he said resolutely, and rang the bell. + +"My compliments to the prince," he said to his servant, who appeared +instantly, "and will he come to me here." + +When Paul came into the room a few minutes later Steinmetz was standing +by the fire. He turned and looked gravely at the prince. + +"I have just kicked De Chauxville out of the house," he said. + +The color left Paul's face quite suddenly. + +"Why?" he asked, with hard eyes. He had begun to distrust Etta, and +there is nothing so hard to stop as the growth of distrust. + +Steinmetz did not answer at once. + +"Was it not _my_ privilege?" asked Paul, with a grim smile. There are +some smiles more terrible than any frown. + +"No," answered Steinmetz, "I think not. It is not as bad as that. But it +is bad enough, mein lieber!--it is bad enough! I horsewhipped him first +for myself. Gott! how pleasant that was! And then I kicked him out for +you." + +"Why?" repeated Paul, with a white face. + +"It is a long story," answered Steinmetz, without looking at him. "He +knows too much." + +"About whom?" + +"About all of us." + +Paul walked away to the window. He stood looking out, his hands thrust +into the side-pockets of his jacket, his broad back turned +uncompromisingly upon his companion. + +"Tell me the story," he said. "You need not hurry over it. You need not +trouble to--spare me. Only let it be quite complete--once for all." + +Steinmetz winced. He knew the expression of the face that was looking +out of the window. + +"This man has hated me all his life," he said. "It began as such things +usually do between men--about a woman. It was years ago. I got the +better of him, and the good God got the better of me. She died, and De +Chauxville forgot her. I--have not forgotten her. But I have tried to do +so. It is a slow process, and I have made very little progress; but all +that is my affair and beside the question. I merely mention it to show +you that De Chauxville had a grudge against me--" + +"This is no time for mistaken charity," interrupted Paul. "Do not try to +screen any body. I shall see through it." + +There was a little pause. Never had that silent room been so noiseless. + +"In after-life," Steinmetz went on, "it was our fate to be at variance +several times. Our mutual dislike has had no opportunity of diminishing. +It seems that, before you married, De Chauxville was pleased to consider +himself in love with Mrs. Sydney Bamborough. Whether he had any right to +think himself ill-used, I do not know. Such matters are usually known to +two persons only, and imperfectly by them. It would appear that the +wound to his vanity was serious. It developed into a thirst for revenge. +He looked about for some means to do you harm. He communicated with your +enemies, and allied himself to such men as Vassili of Paris. He followed +us to Petersburg, and then he had a stroke of good fortune. He found +out--who betrayed the Charity League!" + +Paul turned slowly round. In his eyes there burned a dull, hungering +fire. Men have seen such a look in the eyes of a beast of prey, driven, +famished, cornered at last, and at last face to face with its foe. + +"Ah! He knows that!" he said slowly. + +"Yes, God help us! he knows that." + +"And who was it?" + +Steinmetz moved uneasily from one foot to the other. + +"It was a woman," he said. + +"A woman?" + +"A woman--you know," said Steinmetz slowly. + +"Good God! Catrina?" + +"No, not Catrina." + +"Then who?" cried Paul hoarsely. His hands fell heavily on the table. + +"Your wife!" + +Paul knew before the words were spoken. + +He turned again, and stood looking out of the window with his hands +thrust into his pockets. He stood there for whole minutes in an awful +stillness. The clock on the mantel-piece, a little travelling timepiece, +ticked in a hurried way as if anxious to get on. Down beneath them, +somewhere in the courtyards of the great castle, a dog--a deep-voiced +wolf-hound--was baying persistently and nervously, listening for the +echo of its own voice amid the pines of the desert forest. + +Steinmetz watched Paul's motionless back with a sort of fascination. He +moved uneasily, as if to break a spell of silence almost unbearable in +its intensity. He went to the table and sat down. From mere habit he +took up a quill pen. He looked at the point of it and at the inkstand. +But he had nothing to write. There was nothing to say. + +He laid the pen aside, and sat leaning his broad head upon the palm of +his hand, his two elbows on the table. Paul never moved. Steinmetz +waited. His own life had been no great success. He had had much to bear, +and he had borne it. He was wondering heavily whether any of it had been +as bad as what Paul was bearing now while he looked out of the window +with his hands in his pockets, saying nothing. + +At length Paul moved. He turned, and, coming toward the table, laid his +hand on Steinmetz's broad shoulder. + +"Are you sure of it?" he asked, in a voice that did not sound like his +own at all--a hollow voice like that of an old man. + +"Quite; I have it from Stépan Lanovitch--from the princess herself." + +They remained thus for a moment. Then Paul withdrew his hand and walked +slowly to the window. + +"Tell me," he said, "how she did it." + +Steinmetz was playing with the quill pen again. It is singular how at +great moments we perform trivial acts, think trivial thoughts. He dipped +the pen in the ink, and made a pattern on the blotting-pad with dots. + +"It was an organized plan between husband and wife," he said. +"Bamborough turned up at Thors and asked for a night's lodging, on the +strength of a very small acquaintance. He stole the papers from Stépan's +study and took them to Tver, where his wife was waiting for them. She +took them on to Paris and sold them to Vassili. Bamborough began his +journey eastward, knowing presumably that he could not escape by the +western frontier, but lost his way on the steppe. You remember the man +whom we picked up between here and Tver, with his face all cut to +pieces?--he had been dragged by the stirrup. That was Sydney Bamborough. +The good God had hit back quickly." + +"How long have you known this?" asked Paul, in a queer voice. + +"I saw it suddenly in the princess's face, one day in Petersburg--a sort +of revelation. I read it there, and she saw me reading. I should have +liked to keep it from you, for your sake as well as for hers. Our daily +life is made possible only by the fact that we know so little of our +neighbors. There are many things of which we are better ignorant right +up to the end. This might have been one of them. But De Chauxville found +it out, and it is better that I should tell you than he." + +Paul did not look around. The wolf-hound was still barking at its own +echo--a favorite pastime of those who make a great local stir in the +world. + +"Of course," said Paul, after a long pause, "I have been a great fool. I +know that. But--" + +He turned and looked at Steinmetz with haggard eyes. + +"But I would rather go on being a fool than suspect any one of a +deception like this." + +Steinmetz was still making patterns on the blotting-pad. + +"It is difficult for us men," he said slowly, "to look at these things +from a woman's point of view. They hold a different sense of honor from +ours--especially if they are beautiful. And the fault is +ours--especially toward the beautiful ones. There may have been +temptations of which we are ignorant." + +Paul was still looking at him. Steinmetz looked up slowly, and saw that +he had grown ten years older in the last few minutes. He did not look at +him for more than a second, because the sight of Paul's face hurt him. +But he saw in that moment that Paul did not understand. This strong man, +hard in his youthful strength of limb and purpose, would be just, but +nothing more. And between man and man it is not always justice that is +required. Between man and woman justice rarely meets the difficulty. + +"Comprendre c'est pardonner," quoted Steinmetz vaguely. + +He hesitated to interfere between Paul and his wife. Axioms are made for +crucial moments. A man's life has been steered by a proverb before this. +Some, who have no religion, steer by them all the voyage. + +Paul walked slowly to the chair he usually occupied, opposite to +Steinmetz, at the writing-table. He walked and sat down as if he had +travelled a long distance. + +"What is to be done?" asked Steinmetz. + +"I do not know. I do not think that it matters much. What do you +recommend?" + +"There is so much to be done," answered Steinmetz, "that it is difficult +to know what to do first. We must not forget that De Chauxville is +furious. He will do all the harm of which he is capable at once. We must +not forget that the country is in a state of smoldering revolt, and that +we have two women, two English ladies, entrusted to our care." + +Paul moved uneasily in his chair. His companion had struck the right +note. This large man was happiest when he was tiring himself out. + +"Yes; but about Etta?" he said. + +And the sound of his voice made Steinmetz wince. There is nothing so +heartrending as the sight of dumb suffering. + +"You must see her," answered he reflectively. "You must see her, of +course. She may be able to explain." + +He looked across the table beneath his shaggy gray eyebrows. Paul did +not at that moment look a likely subject for explanations--even the +explanations of a beautiful woman. But there was one human quantity +which in all his experience Karl Steinmetz had never successfully +gauged--namely, the extent of a woman's power over the man who loves, or +at one time has loved her. + +"She cannot explain away Stépan Lanovitch's ruined life. She can hardly +explain away a thousand deaths from unnatural causes every winter, in +this province alone." + +This was what Steinmetz dreaded--justice. + +"Give her the opportunity," he said. + +Paul was looking out of the window. His singularly firm mouth was still +and quiet--not a mouth for explanations. + +"I will, if you like," he said. + +"I do like, Paul. I beg of you to do it. And remember that--she is not a +man." + +This, like other appeals of the same nature, fell on stony ground. Paul +simply did not understand it. In all the years of his work among the +peasants it is possible that some well-spring of conventional charity +had been dried up--scorched in the glare of burning injustice. He was +not at this moment in a mood to consider the only excuse that Steinmetz +seemed to be able to urge. + +The sun had set long ago. The short twilight lay over the snow-covered +land with a chill hopelessness. Steinmetz looked at his watch. They had +been together an hour--one of those hours that count as years in a life +time. He had to peer into the face of the watch in order to see the +hands. The room was almost dark, and no servant ever came to it, unless +summoned. + +Paul was looking down at his companion, as if waiting to hear the time. +At great moments we are suddenly brought face to face with the limits of +human nature. It is at such moments that we find that we are not gods, +but only men. We can only feel to a certain extent, only suffer up to a +certain point. + +"We must dress for dinner," said Steinmetz. "Afterward--well, afterward +we shall see." + +"Yes," answered Paul. And he did not go. + +The two men stood looking at each other for a moment. They had passed +through much together--danger, excitement, and now they were dabbling in +sorrow. It would appear that this same sorrow runs like a river across +the road of our life. Some of us find the ford and plash through the +shallows--shallow ourselves--while others flounder into deep water. +These are they who look right on to the greater events, and fail to note +the trivial details of each little step. Paul was wading through the +deep water, and this good friend of his was not inclined to stand upon +the bank. It is while passing through this river that Fortune sends some +of us a friend, who is ever afterward different from all others. + +Paul stood looking down at the broad, heavy face of the man who loved +him like a father. It was not easy for him to speak. He seemed to be +making an effort. + +"I do not want you to think," he said at last, "that it is as bad as it +might have been. It might have been worse--much worse--had I not made a +mistake in regard to my own feelings when I married her. I will try and +do the right thing by her. Only at present there does not seem to be +much left, except you." + +Steinmetz looked up with his quaintly resigned smile. + +"Ah, yes," he said, "I am there always." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + + +HUSBAND AND WIFE + +Karl Steinmetz had shown the depth of his knowledge of men and women +when he commented on that power of facing danger with an unruffled +countenance which he was pleased to attribute to English ladies above +all women. During the evening he had full opportunity of verifying his +own observations. + +Etta came down to dinner smiling and imperturbable. On the threshold of +the drawing-room she exchanged a glance with Karl Steinmetz; and that +was all. At dinner it was Maggie and Paul who were silent. Etta talked +to Steinmetz--brightly, gayly, with a certain courage of a very high +order; for she was desperate, and she did not show it. + +At last the evening came to an end. Maggie had sung two songs. Steinmetz +had performed on the piano with a marvellous touch. All had played their +parts with the brazen faces which Steinmetz, in his knowledge of many +nations, assigned to the Anglo-Saxon race before others. + +At last Etta rose to go to bed, with a little sharp sigh of great +suspense. It was coming. + +She went up to her room, bidding Maggie good-night in the passage. In a +mechanical way she allowed the deft-handed maid to array her in a +dressing gown--soft, silken, a dainty triumph in its way. Then, almost +impatiently, she sent the maid away when her hair was only half +released. She would brush it herself. She was tired. No, she wanted +nothing more. + +She sat down by the fire, brush in hand. She could hardly breathe. It +was coming. + +She heard Paul come to his dressing-room. She heard his deep, quiet +voice reply to some question of his valet's. Then the word "Good-night" +in the same quiet voice. The valet had gone. There was only the door now +between her and--what? Her fingers were at the throat of her +dressing-gown. The soft lace seemed to choke her. + +Then Paul knocked at the door. It was coming. She opened her lips, but +at first could make no sound. + +"Come in!" she said at length hoarsely. + +She wondered whether he would kill her. She wondered whether she was in +love with her husband. She had begun wondering that lately; she was +wondering it when he came in. He had changed his dress-coat for a +silk-faced jacket, in which he was in the habit of working with +Steinmetz in the quiet room after the household had gone to bed. + +She looked up. She dropped the brush, and ran toward him with a great +rustle of her flowing silks. + +"Oh, Paul, what is it?" she cried. + +She stopped short, not daring to touch him, before his cold, set face. + +"Have you seen any one?" she whispered. + +"Only De Chauxville," he answered, "this afternoon." + +"Indeed, Paul," she protested hastily, "it was nothing. A message from +Catrina Lanovitch. It was only the usual visit of an acquaintance. It +would have been very strange if he had not called. Do you think I could +care for a man like that?" + +"I never did think so until now," returned Paul steadily. "Your excuses +accuse you. You may care for him. I do not know; I--do--not--care." + +She turned slowly and went back to her chair. + +Mechanically she took up the brush, and shook back her beautiful hair. + +"You mean you do not care for me," she said. "Oh, Paul! be careful." + +Paul stood looking at her. He was not a subtle-minded man at all. He was +not one of those who take it upon themselves to say that they understand +women--using the word in an offensively general sense, as if women were +situated midway between the human and the animal races. He was +old-fashioned enough to look upon women as higher and purer than men, +while equally capable of thought and self-control. He had, it must be +remembered, no great taste for fictional literature. He had not read the +voluminous lucubrations of the modern woman writer. He had not assisted +at the nauseating spectacle of a woman morally turning herself inside +out in three volumes and an interview. + +No, this man respected women still; and he paid them an honor which, +thank Heaven, most of them still deserve. He treated them as men in the +sense that he considered them to be under the same code of right and +wrong, of good and evil. + +He did not understand what Etta meant when she told him to be careful. +He did not know that the modern social code is like the Spanish +grammar--there are so many exceptions that the rules are hardly worth +noting. And one of our most notorious modern exceptions is the married +woman who is pleased to hold herself excused because outsiders tell her +that her husband does not understand her. + +"I do not think," said Paul judicially, "that you can have cared very +much whether I loved you or not. When you married me you knew that I was +the promoter of the Charity League; I almost told you. I told you so +much that, with your knowledge, you must have been aware of the fact +that I was heavily interested in the undertaking which you betrayed. You +married me without certain proof of your husband's death, such was your +indecent haste to call yourself a princess. And now I find, on your own +confession, that you have a clandestine understanding with a man who +tried to murder me only a week ago. Is it not rather absurd to talk of +caring?" + +He stood looking down at her, cold and terrible in the white heat of his +suppressed Northern anger. + +The little clock on the mantel-piece, in a terrible hurry, ticked with +all its might. Time was speeding. Every moment was against her. And she +could think of nothing to say simply because those things that she would +have said to others would carry no weight with this man. + +Etta was leaning forward in the luxurious chair, staring with haggard +eyes into the fire. The flames leaped up and gleamed on her pale face, +in her deep eyes. + +"I suppose," she said, without looking at him, "that you will not +believe me when I tell you that I hate the man. I knew nothing of what +you refer to as happening last week; his attempt to murder you, I mean. +You are a prince, and all-powerful in your own province. Can you not +throw him into prison and keep him there? Such things are done in +Russia. He is more dangerous than you think. Please do it--please--" + +Paul looked at her with hard, unresponsive eyes. Lives depended on his +answer. + +"I did not come here to discuss Claude de Chauxville," he said, "but +you, and our future." + +Etta drew herself up as one under the lash, and waited with set teeth. + +"I propose," he said, in a final voice which made it no proposition at +all, "that you go home to England at once with--your cousin. This +country is not safe for you. The house in London will be at your +disposal. I will make a suitable settlement on you, sufficient to live +in accordance with your title and position. I must ask you to remember +that the name you bear has hitherto been an unsullied one. We have been +proud of our princesses--up to now. In case of any trouble reaching you +from outside sources connected with this country, I should like you to +remember that you are under my protection and that of Steinmetz. Either +of us will be glad at any time to consider any appeal for assistance +that you may think fit to make. You will always be the Princess Howard +Alexis." + +Etta gave a sudden laugh. + +"Oh, yes," she said, and her face was strangely red, "I shall still be +the Princess Alexis." + +"With sufficient money to keep up the position," he went on, with the +cruel irony of a slow-spoken man. + +A queer, twisted smile passed across Etta's face--the smile of one who +is in agony and will not shriek. + +"There are certain stipulations which I must make in self-defence," went +on Paul. "I must ask you to cease all communication of whatever nature +with the Baron de Chauxville. I am not jealous of him--now. I do not +know why." + +He paused, as if wondering what the meaning of this might be. Etta knew +it. The knowledge was part of her punishment. + +"But," continued her husband. "I am not going to sacrifice the name my +mother bore to the vanity of a French coxcomb. You will be kind enough +to avoid all society where it is likely that you should meet him. If you +disregard my desires in this matter, I shall be compelled to take means +to enforce them." + +"What means?" + +"I shall reduce your allowance." + +Their eyes met, and perhaps that was the bitterest moment in Etta's +life. Dead things are better put out of sight at once. Etta felt that +Paul's dead love would grin at her in every sovereign of the allowance +which was to be hers. She would never get away from it; she could never +shake off its memory. + +"Am I to live alone?" asked Etta, suddenly finding her voice. + +"That is as you like," answered Paul, perhaps purposely misunderstanding +her. "You are at liberty to have any friend or companion you wish. +Perhaps--your cousin." + +"Maggie?" + +"Yes," answered Paul. For the first time since he had entered the room +his eyes were averted from Etta's face. + +"She would not live with me," said the princess curtly. + +Paul seemed to be reflecting. When he next spoke it was in a kinder +voice. + +"You need not tell the circumstances which have given rise to this +arrangement." + +Etta shrugged her shoulders. + +"That," went on Paul, "rests entirely with yourself. You may be sure +that I will tell no one. I am not likely to discuss it with any one +whomsoever." + +Etta's stony eyes softened for a moment. She seemed to be alternating +between hatred of this man and love of him--a dangerous state for any +woman. It is possible that, if he had held his hand out to her, she +would have been at his feet in a wild, incoherent passion of self-hatred +and abasement. Such moments as these turn our lives and determine them. +Paul knew nothing of the issue hanging on this moment, on the passing +softness of her eyes. He knew nothing of the danger in which this woman +stood, of the temptation with which she was wrestling. He went on in his +blindness, went on being only just. + +"If," he said, "you have any further questions to ask, I shall always be +at your service. For the next few days I shall be busy. The peasants are +in a state of discontent verging on rebellion. We cannot at present +arrange for your journey to Tver, but as soon as it is possible I will +tell you." + +He looked at the clock, and made an imperceptible movement toward the +door. + +Etta glanced up sharply. She did not seem to be breathing. + +"Is that all?" she asked, in a dull voice. + +There was a long silence, tense and throbbing, the great silence of the +steppe. + +"I think so," answered Paul at length. "I have tried to be just." + +"Then justice is very cruel." + +"Not so cruel as the woman who for a few pounds sells the happiness of +thousands of human beings. Steinmetz advised me to speak to you. He +suggested the possibility of circumstances of which we are ignorant. He +said that you might be able to explain." + +Silence. + +"Can you explain?" + +Silence. Etta sat looking into the fire. The little clock hurried on. At +length Etta drew a deep breath. + +"You are the sort of man," she said, "who does not understand +temptation. You are strong. The devil leaves the strong in peace. You +have found virtue easy because you have never wanted money. Your +position has always been assured. Your name alone is a password through +the world. Your sort are always hard on women who--who--What have I +done, after all?" + +Some instinct bade her rise to her feet and stand before him--tall, +beautiful, passionate, a woman in a thousand, a fit mate for such as he. +Her beautiful hair in burnished glory round her face gleamed in the +firelight. Her white fingers clenched, her arms thrown back, her breast +panting beneath the lace, her proud face looking defiance into his--no +one but a prince could have braved this princess. + +"What have I done?" she cried a second time. "I have only fought for +myself, and if I have won, so much the greater credit. I am your wife. I +have done nothing the law can touch. Thousands of women moving in our +circle are not half so good as I am. I swear before God I am----" + +"Hush!" he said, with upraised hand. "I never doubted that." + +"I will do any thing you wish," she went on, and in her humility she was +very dangerous. "I deceived you, I know. But I sold the Charity League +before I knew that you--that you thought of me. When I married you I +didn't love you. I admit that. But Paul--oh, Paul, if you were not so +good you would understand." + +Perhaps he did understand; for there was that in her eyes that made her +meaning clear. + +He was silent; standing before her in his great strength, his marvellous +and cruel self-restraint. + +"You will not forgive me?" + +For a moment she leaned forward, peering into his face. He seemed to be +reflecting. + +"Yes," he said at length, "I forgive you. But if I cared for you, +forgiveness would be impossible." + +He went slowly toward the door. Etta looked round the room with drawn +eyes; their room--the room he had fitted up for his bride with the +lavishness of a great wealth and a great love. + +He paused, with his hand on the door. + +"And," she said, with fiery cheeks, "does your forgiveness date from +to-night?" + +"Yes!" + +He opened the door. + +"Good-night!" he said, and went out. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + + +STÉPAN RETURNS + +At daybreak the next morning Karl Steinmetz was awakened by the familiar +cry of the wolf beneath his window. He rose and dressed hastily. The +eastern sky was faintly pink; a rosy twilight moved among the pines. He +went down stairs and opened the little door at the back of the castle. + +It was, of course, the starosta, shivering and bleached in the chilly +dawn. + +"They have watched my cottage, Excellency, all night. It was only now +that I could get away. There are two strange sleighs outside Domensky's +hut. There are marks of many sleighs that have been and gone. +Excellency, it is unsafe for any one to venture outside the castle +to-day. You must send to Tver for the soldiers." + +"The prince refuses to do that." + +"But why, Excellency? We shall be killed!" + +"You do not know the effect of platoon firing on a closely packed mob, +starost. The prince does," replied Steinmetz, with his grim smile. + +They spoke together in hushed voices for half an hour, while the +daylight crept up the eastern sky. Then the starosta stole away among +the still larches, like the wolf whose cry he imitated so perfectly. + +Steinmetz closed the door and went upstairs to his own room, his face +grave and thoughtful, his tread heavy with the weight of anxiety. + +The day passed as such days do. Etta was not the woman to plead a +conventional headache and remain hidden. She came down to breakfast, and +during that meal was boldly conversational. + +"She has spirit," reflected Karl Steinmetz behind his quiet gray eyes. +He admired her for it, and helped her. He threw back the ball of +conversation with imperturbable good humor. + +They were completely shut in. No news from the outer world penetrated to +the little party besieged within their own stone walls. Maggie, fearless +and innocent, announced her intention of snow-shoeing, but was dissuaded +therefrom by Steinmetz with covert warnings. + +During the morning each was occupied in individual affairs. At luncheon +time they met again. Etta was now almost defiant. She was on her mettle. +She was so near to loving Paul that a hatred of him welled up within her +breast whenever he repelled her advances with uncompromising reticence. + +They did not know--perhaps she hardly knew herself--that the opening of +the side-door depended upon her humor. + +In the afternoon Etta and Maggie sat, as was their wont, in the +morning-room looking out over the cliff. Of late their intercourse had +been slightly strained. They had never had much in common, although +circumstances had thrown their lives together. It is one of the ills to +which women are heir that they have frequently to pass their whole lives +in the society of persons with whom they have no real sympathy. Both +these women were conscious of the little rift within the lute, but such +rifts are better treated with silence. That which comes to interfere +with a woman's friendship will not often bear discussion. + +At dusk Steinmetz went out. He had an appointment with the starosta. + +Paul was sitting in his own room, making a pretence of work, about five +o'clock, when Steinmetz came hurriedly to him. + +"A new development," he said shortly. "Come to my room." + +Paul rose and followed him through the double doorway built in the +thickness of the wall. + +Steinmetz's large room was lighted only by a lamp standing on the table. +All the light was thrown on the desk by a large green shade, leaving the +rest of the room in a semi-darkness. + +At the far end of the room a man was standing in an expectant attitude. +There was something furtive about this intruder, and at the same time +familiar to Paul, who peered at him through the gloom. + +Then the man came hurriedly forward. + +"Ah, Pavlo, Pavlo!" he said in a deep, hollow voice. "I could not expect +you to know me." + +He threw his arms around him, and embraced him after the simple manner +of Russia. Then he held him at arm's length. + +"Stépan!" said Paul. "No, I did not know you." + +Stépan Lanovitch was still holding him at arm's length, examining him +with the large faint blue eyes which so often go with an exaggerated +philanthropy. + +"Old," he muttered, "old! Ah, my poor Pavlo! I heard in Kiew--you know +how we outlaws hear such things--that you were in trouble, so I came to +you." + +Steinmetz in the background raised his patient eyebrows. + +"There are two men in the world," went on the voluble Lanovitch, "who +can manage the moujiks of Tver--you and I; so I came. I will help you, +Pavlo; I will stand by you. Together we can assuredly quell this +revolt." + +Paul nodded, and allowed himself to be embraced a second time. He had +long known Stépan Lanovitch of Thors as one of the many who go about the +world doing good with their eyes shut. For the moment he had absolutely +no use for this well-meaning blunderer. + +"I am afraid," he said, "that it has got beyond control. We cannot stamp +it out now except by force, and I would rather not do that. Our only +hope is that it may burn itself out. The talkers must get hoarse in +time." + +Lanovitch shook his head. + +"They have been talking since the days of Ananias," he said, "and they +are not hoarse yet. I fear, Pavlo, there will never be peace in the +world until the talkers are hoarse." + +"How did you get here?" asked Paul, who was always businesslike. + +"I brought a pack on my back and sold cotton. I made myself known to the +starosta, and he communicated with good Karl here." + +"Did you learn any thing in the village?" asked Paul. + +"No; they suspected me. They would not talk. But I understand them, +Pavlo, these poor simple fools. A pebble in the stream would turn the +current of their convictions. Tell them who is the Moscow doctor. It is +your only chance." + +Steinmetz grunted acquiescence and walked wearily to the window. This +was only an old and futile argument of his own. + +"And make it impossible for me to live another day among them," said +Paul. "Do you think St. Petersburg would countenance a prince who works +among his moujiks?" + +Stépan Lanovitch's pale blue eyes looked troubled. Steinmetz shrugged +his shoulders. + +"They have brought it on themselves," he said. + +"As much as a lamb brings the knife upon itself by growing up," replied +Paul. + +Lanovitch shook his white head with a tolerant little smile. He loved +these poor helpless peasants with a love as large as and a thousand +times less practical than Paul's. + +In the meantime Paul was thinking in his clear, direct way. It was this +man's habit in life and in thought to walk straight past the side +issues. + +"It is like you, Stépan," he said at length, "to come to us at this +time. We feel it, and we recognize the generosity of it, for Steinmetz +and I know the danger you are running in coming back to this country. +But we cannot let you do it--No, do not protest. It is quite out of the +question. We might quell the revolt; no doubt we should--the two of us +together. But what would happen afterward? You would be sent back to +Siberia, and I should probably follow you for harboring an escaped +convict." + +The face of the impulsive philanthropist dropped pathetically. He had +come to his friend's assistance on the spur of the moment. He was +destined, as some men are, to plunge about the world seeking to do good. +And it has been decreed that good must be done by stealth and after +deliberation only. He who does good on the spur of the moment usually +sows a seed of dissension in the trench of time. + +"Also," went on Paul, with that deliberate grasp of the situation which +never failed to astonish the ready-witted Steinmetz; "also, you have +other calls upon your energy. You have other work to do." + +Lanovitch's broad face lightened up; his benevolent brow beamed. His +capacity for work had brought him to the shoemaker's last in Tomsk. It +is a vice that grows with indulgence. + +"It has pleased the Authorities," went on Paul, who was shy of religious +turns of phrase, "to give us all our own troubles. Mine--such as they +are, Stépan--must be managed by myself. Yours can be faced by no one but +you. You have come at the right moment. You do not quite realize what +your coming means to Catrina." + +"Catrina! Ah!" + +The weak blue eyes looked into the strong face and read nothing there. + +"I doubt," said Paul, "whether it is right for you to continue +sacrificing Catrina for the sake of the little good that you are able to +do. You are hampered in your good work to such an extent that the result +is very small, while the pain you give is very great." + +"But is that so, Pavlo? Is my child unhappy?" + +"I fear so," replied Paul gravely, with his baffling self-restraint. +"She has not much in common with her mother, you understand." + +"Ah, yes!" + +"It is you to whom she is attached. Sometimes it is so with children and +parents. One cannot tell why." + +Steinmetz looked as if he could supply information upon the subject: but +he remained silent, standing, as it were, in an acquiescent attitude. + +"You have fought your fight," said Paul. "A good fight, too. You have +struck your blow for the country. You have sown your seed, but the +harvest is not yet. Now it is time to think of your own safety, of the +happiness of your own child." + +Stépan Lanovitch turned away and sat heavily down. He leaned his two +arms on the table, and his chin upon his clenched hands. + +"Why not leave the country now; at all events for a few years?" went on +Paul, and when a man who is accustomed to command stoops to persuade, it +is strong persuasion that he wields. "You can take Catrina with you. You +will be assuring her happiness, which, at all events, is something +tangible--a present harvest! I will drive over to Thors now and bring +her back. You can leave to-night and go to America." + +Stépan Lanovitch raised his head and looked hard into Paul's face. + +"You wish it?" + +"I think," answered Paul steadily, "that it is for Catrina's happiness." + +Then Lanovitch rose up and took Paul's hand in his work-stained grip. + +"Go, my son! It will be a great happiness to me. I will wait here," he +said. + +Paul went straight to the door. He was a man with a capacity for prompt +action, which seemed to rise to demand. Steinmetz followed him out into +the passage and took him by the arm. + +"You cannot do it," he said. + +"Yes, I can," replied Paul. "I can find my way through the forest. No +one will venture to follow me there in the dark." + +Steinmetz hesitated, shrugged his shoulders, and went back into the +room. + +The ladies at Thors were dressed for dinner--were, indeed, awaiting the +announcement of that meal--when Paul broke in upon their solitude. He +did not pause to lay aside his furs, but went into the long, low room, +withdrawing his seal gloves painfully, for it was freezing as it only +can freeze in March. + +The countess assailed him with many questions, more or less sensible, +which he endured patiently until the servant had left the room. Catrina, +with flushed cheeks, stood looking at him, but said nothing. + +Paul withdrew his gloves and submitted to the countess' futile tugs at +his fur coat. Then Catrina spoke. + +"The Baron de Chauxville has left us," she said, without knowing exactly +why. + +For the moment Paul had forgotten Claude de Chauxville's existence. + +"I have news for you," he said; and he gently pushed the chattering +countess aside. "Stépan Lanovitch is at Osterno. He arrived to-night." + +"Ah, they have set him free, poor man! Does he wear chains on his +ankles--is his hair long? My poor Stépan! Ah, but what a stupid man!" + +The countess collapsed into a soft chair. She chose a soft one, +obviously. It has to be recorded here that she did not receive the news +with unmitigated joy. + +"When he was in Siberia," she gasped, "one knew at all events where he +was; and now, mon Dieu! what an anxiety!" + +"I have come over to see whether you will join him to-night and go with +him to America," said Paul, looking at her. + +"To--America--to-night! My dear Paul, are you mad? One cannot do such +things as that. America! that is across the sea." + +"Yes," answered Paul. + +"And I am such a bad sailor. Now, if it had been Paris----" + +"But it cannot be," interrupted Paul. "Will you join your father +to-night?" he added, turning to Catrina. + +The girl was looking at him with something in her eyes that he did not +care to meet. + +"And go to America?" she asked, in a lifeless voice. + +Paul nodded. + +Catrina turned suddenly away from him and walked to the fire, where she +stood with her back toward him--a small, uncouth figure in black and +green, the lamplight gleaming on her wonderful hair. She turned suddenly +again, and, coming back, stood looking into his face. + +"I will go," she said. "You think it best?" + +"Yes," he answered; "I think it best." + +She drew a sharp breath and was about to speak when the countess +interrupted her. + +"What!" she cried. "You are going away to-night like this, without any +luggage! And pray what is to become of me?" + +"You can join them in America," said Paul, in his quietest tone. "Or you +can live in Paris, at last." + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + + +DUTY + +It was not now a very cold night. There were fleecy clouds thrown like +puffs of smoke against the western sky. The moon, on the wane,--a small +crescent lying on its back,--was lowering toward the horizon. The +thermometer had risen since sunset, as it often does in March. There was +a suggestion of spring in the air. It seemed that at last the long +winter was drawing to a close; that the iron grip of frost was relaxing. + +Paul went out and inspected the harness by the light of a stable lantern +held in the mittened hand of a yemschick. He had reasons of his own for +absenting himself while Catrina bade her mother farewell. He was rather +afraid of these women. + +The harness inspected, he began reckoning how many hours of moonlight +might still be vouchsafed to him. The stableman, seeing the direction of +his gaze, began to talk of the weather and the possibilities of snow in +the near future. They conversed in low voices together. + +Presently the door opened and Catrina came quickly out, followed by a +servant carrying a small hand-bag. + +Paul could not see Catrina's face. She was veiled and furred to the +eyelids. Without a word the girl took her seat in the sleigh, and the +servant prepared the bear-skin rugs. Paul gathered up the reins and took +his place beside her. A few moments were required to draw up the rugs +and fasten them with straps; then Paul gave the word and the horses +leaped forward. + +As they sped down the avenue Catrina turned and looked her last on +Thors. + +Before long Paul wheeled into the trackless forest. He had come very +carefully, steering chiefly by the moon and stars, with occasional +assistance from a bend of the winding river. At times he had taken to +the ice, following the course of the stream for a few miles. No snow had +fallen; it would be easy to return on his own track. Through this part +of the forest no road was cut. + +For nearly half an hour they drove in silence. Only the whistle of the +iron-bound runners on the powdery snow, the creak of the warming leather +on the horses, the regular breathing of the team, broke the stillness of +the forest. Paul hoped against hope that Catrina was asleep. She sat by +his side, her arm touching his sleeve, her weight thrown against him at +such times as the sleigh bumped over a fallen tree or some inequality of +the ground. + +He could not help wondering what thoughts there were behind her silence. +Steinmetz's good-natured banter had come back to his memory, during the +last few days, in a new light. + +"Paul," said the woman at his side quite suddenly, breaking the silence +of the great forest where they had grown to life and sorrow almost side +by side. + +"Yes." + +"I want to know how this all came about. It is not my father's doing. +There is something quick, and practical, and wise which suggests you and +Herr Steinmetz. I suspect that you have done this--you and he--for our +happiness." + +"No," answered Paul; "it was mere accident. Your father heard of our +trouble in Kiew. You know him--always impulsive and reckless. He never +thinks of the danger. He came to help us." + +Catrina smiled wanly. + +"But it _is_ for our happiness, is it not, Paul? You know that it +is--that is why you have done it. I have not had time yet to realize +what I am doing, all that is going to happen. But if it is your doing, I +think I shall be content to abide by the result." + +"It is not my doing," replied Paul, who did not like her wistful tone. +"It is the outcome of circumstances. Circumstances have been ruling us +all lately. We seem to have no time to consider, but only to do that +which seems best for the moment." + +"And it is best that I should go to America with my father?" Her voice +was composed and quiet. In the dim light he could not see her white +lips; indeed, he never looked. + +"It seems so to me, undoubtedly," he said. "In doing this, so far as we +can see at present, it seems certain that you are saving your father +from Siberia. You know what he is; he never thinks of his own safety. He +ought never to have come here to-night. If he remains in Russia, it is +an absolute certainty that he will sooner or later be rearrested. He is +one of those good people who require saving from themselves." + +Catrina nodded. At times duty is the kedge-anchor of happiness. The girl +was dimly aware that she was holding to this. She was simple and +unsophisticated enough to consider Paul's opinion infallible. At the +great cross-roads of life we are apt to ask the way of any body who +happens to be near. Catrina might perhaps have made a worse choice of +counsel, for Paul was honest. + +"As you put it," she said, "it is clearly my duty. There is a sort of +consolation in that, however painful it may be at the time. I suppose it +is consolatory to look back and think that at all events one did one's +duty." + +"I don't know," answered Paul simply; "I suppose so." + +Looking back was not included in his method of life, which was rather +characterized by a large faith and a forward pressure. Whenever there +was question of considering life as an abstract, he drew within his +shell with a manlike shyness. He had no generalities ready for each +emergency. + +"Would father have gone alone?" she asked, with a very human thrill of +hope in her voice. + +"No," answered Paul steadily, "I think not. But you can ask him." + +They had never been so distant as they were at this moment--so cold, +such mere acquaintances. And they had played together in one nursery. + +"Of course, if that is the case," said the girl, "my duty is quite +clear." + +"It required some persuasion to make him consent to go, even with you," +said Paul. + +A rough piece of going--for there was no road--debarred further +conversation at this time. The sleigh rolled and bumped over one fallen +tree after another. Paul, with his feet stretched out, wedged firmly +into the sleigh, encouraged the tired horses with rein and voice. +Catrina was compelled to steady herself with both hands on the bar of +the apron; for the apron of a Russian sleigh is a heavy piece of leather +stretched on a wooden bar. + +"Then you think my duty is quite clear?" repeated the girl at length. + +Paul did not answer at once. + +"I am sure of it," he said. + +And there the question ended. Catrina Lanovitch, who had never been +ruled by those about her, shaped her whole life unquestioningly upon an +opinion. + +They did not speak for some time, and then it was the girl who broke the +silence. + +"I have a confession to make and a favor to ask," she said bluntly. + +Paul's attitude denoted attention, but he said nothing. + +"It is about the Baron de Chauxville," she said. + +"Ah!" + +"I am a coward," she went on. "I did not know it before. It is rather +humiliating. I have been trying for some weeks to tell you something, +but I am horribly afraid of it. I am afraid you will despise me. I have +been a fool--worse, perhaps. I never knew that Claude de Chauxville was +the sort of person he is. I allowed him to find out things about me +which he never should have known--my own private affairs, I mean. Then I +became frightened, and he tried to make use of me. I think he makes use +of every-body. _You_ know what he is." + +"Yes," answered Paul, "I know." + +"He hates you," she went on. "I do not want to make mischief, but I +suppose he wanted to marry the princess. His vanity was wounded because +she preferred you, and he wanted to be avenged upon you. Wounds to the +vanity never heal. I do not know how he did it, Paul, but he made me +help him in his schemes. I could have prevented you from going to the +bear hunt, for I suspected him then. I could have prevented my mother +from inviting him to Thors. I could have put a thousand difficulties in +his way, but I did not. I helped him. I told him about the people and +who were the worst--who had been influenced by the Nihilists and who +would not work. I allowed him to stay on here and carry out his plan. +All this trouble among the peasants is his handiwork. He has organized a +regular rising against you. He is horribly clever. He left us yesterday, +but I am convinced that he is in the neighborhood still." + +She stopped and reflected. There was something wanting in the story, +which she could not supply. It was a motive. A half-confession is almost +an impossibility. When we speak of ourselves it must be all or +nothing--preferably, nothing. + +"I do not know why I did it," she said. "It was a sort of period I went +through. I cannot explain." + +He did not ask her to do so. They were singularly like brother and +sister in their mental attitude. They had driven through twenty miles of +forest which belonged to one or other of them. Each was touched by the +intangible, inexplicable dignity that belongs to the possession of great +lands--to the inheritance of a great name. + +"That is the confession," she said. + +He gave a little laugh. + +"If none of us had worse than that upon our consciences," he answered, +"there would be little harm in the world, De Chauxville's schemes have +only hurried on a crisis which was foreordained. The progress of +humanity cannot be stayed. They have tried to stay it in this country. +They will go on trying until the crash comes. What is the favor you have +to ask?" + +"You must leave Osterno," she urged earnestly; "it is unsafe to delay +even a few hours. M. de Chauxville said there would be no danger. I +believed him then, but I do not now. Besides, I know the peasants. They +are hard to rouse, but once excited they are uncontrollable. They are +afraid of nothing. You must get away to-night." + +Paul made no answer. + +She turned slowly in her seat and looked into his face by the light of +the waning moon. + +"Do you mean that you will not go?" + +He met her glance with his grave, slow smile. + +"There is no question of going," he answered. "You must know that." + +She did not attempt to persuade. Perhaps there was something in his +voice which she as a Russian understood--a ring of that which we call +pig-headedness in others. + +"It must be splendid to be a man," she said suddenly, in a ringing +voice. "One feeling in me made me ask you the favor, while another was a +sense of gladness at your certain refusal. I wish I was a man. I envy +you. You do not know how I envy you, Paul." + +Paul gave a quiet laugh--such a laugh as one hears in the trenches after +the low hum of a passing ball. + +"If it is danger you want, you will have more than I in the next week," +he answered. "Steinmetz and I knew that you were the only woman in +Russia who could get your father safely out of the country. That is why +I came for you." + +The girl did not answer at once. They were driving on the road again +now, and the sleigh was running smoothly. + +"I suppose," she said reflectively at length, "that the secret of the +enormous influence you exercise over all who come in contact with you is +that you drag the best out of every one--the best that is in them." + +Paul did not answer. + +"What is that light?" she asked suddenly, laying her hand on the thick +fur of his sleeve. She was not nervous, but very watchful. +"There--straight in front." + +"It is the sleigh," replied Paul, "with your father and Steinmetz. I +arranged that they should meet us at the cross-roads. You must be at the +Volga before daylight. Send the horses on to Tver. I have given you +Minna and The Warrior; they can do the journey with one hour's rest, but +you must drive them." + +Catrina had swayed forward against the bar of the apron in a strange +way, for the road was quite smooth. She placed her gloved hands on the +bar and held herself upright with a peculiar effort. + +"What?" said Paul. For she had made an inarticulate sound. + +"Nothing," she answered. Then, after a pause, "I did not know that we +were to go so soon. That was all." + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + + +THE STORM BURSTS + +The large drawing-room was brilliantly lighted. Another weary day had +dragged to its close. It was the Tuesday evening--the last Tuesday in +March five years ago. The starosta had not been near the castle all day. +Steinmetz and Paul had never lost sight of the ladies since breakfast +time. They had not ventured out of doors. There was in the atmosphere a +sense of foreboding--the stillness of a crisis. Etta had been defiant +and silent--a dangerous humor--all day. Maggie had watched Paul's face +with steadfast, quiet eyes full of courage, but she knew now that there +was danger. + +The conversation at breakfast and luncheon had been maintained by +Steinmetz--always collected and a little humorous. It was now dinner +time. The whole castle was brilliantly lighted, as if for a great +assembly of guests. During the last week a fuller state--a greater +ceremony--had been observed by Paul's orders, and Steinmetz had thought +more than once of that historical event which appealed to his admiration +most--the Indian Mutiny. + +Maggie was in the drawing-room alone. She was leaning one hand and arm +on the mantel-piece, looking thoughtfully into the fire. The rustle of +silk made her turn her head. It was Etta, beautifully dressed, with a +white face and eyes dull with suspense. + +"I think it is warmer to-night," said Maggie, urged by a sudden +necessity of speech, hampered by a sudden chill at the heart. + +"Yes," answered Etta. And she shivered. + +For a moment there was a little silence and Etta looked at the clock. It +was ten minutes to seven. + +A high wind was blowing, the first of the equinoctial gales heralding +the spring. The sound of the wind in the great chimney was like the +moaning of high rigging at sea. + +The door opened and Steinmetz came in. Etta's face hardened, her lips +closed with a snap. Steinmetz looked at her and at Maggie. For once he +seemed to have no pleasantry ready for use. He walked toward a table +where some books and newspapers lay in pleasant profusion. He was +standing there when Paul came into the room. The prince glanced at +Maggie. He saw where his wife stood, but he did not look at her. + +Steinmetz was writing something on half a sheet of notepaper, in pencil. +He pushed it across the table toward Paul, who drew it nearer to him. + +"Are you armed?" were the written words. + +Paul crushed the paper in the hollow of his hand and threw it into the +fire, where it burned away. He also glanced at the clock. It was five +minutes to seven. + +Suddenly the door was thrown open and a manservant rushed in--pale, +confused, terror-stricken. He was a giant footman in the gorgeous livery +of the Alexis. + +"Excellency," he stammered in Russian, "the castle is surrounded--they +will kill us--they will burn us out----" + +He stopped abashed before Paul's pointing finger and stony face. + +"Leave the room!" said Paul. "You forget yourself." + +Through the open door-way to which Paul pointed peered the ashen faces +of other servants huddled together like sheep. + +"Leave the room!" repeated Paul, and the man obeyed him, walking to the +door unsteadily with quivering chin. On the threshold he paused. Paul +stood pointing to the door. He had a poise of the head--some sudden +awakening of the blood that had coursed in the veins of hereditary +potentates. Maggie looked at him; she had never known him like this. She +had known the man, she had never encountered the prince. + +The big clock over the castle boomed out the hour, and at the same +instant there arose a roar like the voice of the surf on a Malabar +shore. There was a crashing of glass almost in the room itself. Already +Steinmetz was drawing the curtains closer over the windows in order to +prevent the light from filtering through the interstices of the closed +shutters. + +"Only stones," he said to Paul, with his grim smile; "it might have been +bullets." + +As if in corroboration of his suggestion the sharp ring of more than one +fire-arm rang out above the dull roar of many voices. + +Steinmetz crossed the room to where Etta was standing, white-lipped, by +the fire. Her clenched hand was gripping Maggie's wrist. She was half +hidden behind her cousin. Maggie was looking at Paul. Etta was obviously +conscious of Steinmetz's gaze and approach. + +"I asked you before to tell me all you knew," he said. "You refused. +Will you do it now?" + +Etta met his glance for a moment, shrugged her shoulders, and turned her +back on him. Paul was standing in the open door-way with his back turned +toward them--alone. The palace had never looked so vast as it did at +that moment--brilliantly lighted, gorgeous, empty. + +Through the hail of blows on the stout doors, the rattle of stones at +the windows, the prince could hear yells of execration and the wild +laughter that is bred of destruction. He turned and entered the room. +His face was gray and terrible. + +"They have no chance," he said, "of effecting an entrance by force; the +lower windows are barred. They have no ladders, Steinmetz and I have +seen to that. We have been expecting this for some days." + +He turned toward Steinmetz as if seeking confirmation. The din was +increasing. When the German spoke he had to shout. + +"We can beat them back if we like. We can shoot them down from the +windows. But"--he paused, shrugged his shoulders, and laughed--"what +will you! This prince will not shoot his father's serfs." + +"We must leave you," went on Paul. "We must beware of treachery. +Whatever happens, we shall not leave the house. If the worst comes, we +make our last stand in this room. Whatever happens, stay here till we +come." + +He left the room, followed by Steinmetz. There were only three doors in +the impregnable stone walls; the great entrance, a side door for use in +times of deep snow, and the small concealed entrance by which the +starosta was in the habit of reaching his masters. + +For a moment the two men stood at the head of the stairs listening to +the wild commotion. They were turning to descend the state stairs when a +piercing shriek, immediately drowned by a yell of triumph, broke the +silence of the interior of the castle. There was a momentary stillness, +followed by another shriek. + +"They are in!" said Steinmetz. "The side door." + +And the two men looked at each other with wide eyes full of knowledge. + +As they ran to the foot of the broad staircase the tramp of scuffling +feet, the roar of angry voices, came through the passages from the back +of curtained doorways. The servants' quarters seemed to be pandemonium. +The sounds approached. + +"Half-way up!" said Paul, and they ran half-way up the broad staircase +side by side. There they stood and waited. + +In a moment the baize doors were burst open, and a scuffling mass of men +and women poured into the hall--a very sewer of humanity. + +A yell of execration signalized their recognition of the prince. + +"They are mad!" said Steinmetz, as the crowd surged forward toward the +stairs with waving arms and the dull gleam of steel; with wild faces +turned upward, wild mouths bellowing hatred and murder. + +"It is a chance--it may stop them!" said Steinmetz. + +His arm was outstretched steadily. A loud report, a little puff of smoke +shooting upward to the gilded ceiling, and for one brief moment the +crowd stood still, watching one of their ringleaders, who was turning +and twisting on his side half a dozen steps from the bottom. + +The man writhed in silence with his hand to his breast, and the crowd +stood aghast. He held up his hand and gazed at it with a queer +stupefaction. The blood dripped from his fingers. Then his chin went up +as if some one was gripping the back of his neck. He turned over slowly +and rolled to the bottom of the stairs. + +Then Paul raised his voice. + +"Listen to me!" he said. + +But he got no farther, for some one shot at him from the background, +over the frantic heads of the others, and missed him. The bullet lodged +in the wall at the head of the stairs, in the jamb of the gorgeous +door-way. It is there to-day. + +There was a yell of hatred, and an ugly charge toward the stairs; but +the sight of the two revolvers held them there--motionless for a few +moments. Those in front pushed back, while the shouters in the safe +background urged them forward by word and gesture. + +Two men holding a hundred in check! But one of the two was a prince, +which makes all the difference, and will continue to make that +difference, despite halfpenny journalism, until the end of the world. + +"What do you want?" cried Paul. + +"Oh, I will wait!" he shouted, in the next pause. "There is plenty of +time--when you are tired of shouting." + +Several of them proceeded to tell him what they wanted. An old story, +too stale for repetition here. Paul recognized in the din of many voices +the tinkling arguments of the professional agitator all the world +over--the cry of "Equality! Equality!" when men are obviously created +unequal. + +"Look out!" said Paul; "I believe they are going to make a rush." + +All the while the foremost men were edging toward the stairs, while the +densely packed throng at the back were struggling among themselves. In +the passages behind, some were yelling and screaming with a wild +intonation which Steinmetz recognized. He had been through the Commune. + +"Those fellows at the back have been killing some one," he said; "I can +tell by their voices. They are drunk with the sight of blood." + +Some new orator gained the ears of the rabble at this moment, and the +ill-kempt heads swayed from side to side. + +"It is useless," he cried, "telling him what you want. He will not give +it you. Go and take it! Go and take it, little fathers; that is the only +way!" + +Steinmetz raised his hand and peered down into the crowd, looking for +the man of eloquence, and the voice was hushed. + +At this moment, however, the yelling increased, and through the door-way +leading to the servants' quarters came a stream of men--bloodstained, +ragged, torn. They were waving arms and implements above their heads. + +"Down with the aristocrats! kill them--kill them!" they were shrieking. + +A little volley of fire-arms further excited them. But vodka is not a +good thing to shoot upon, and Paul stood untouched, waiting, as he had +said, until they were tired of shouting. + +"Now," yelled Steinmetz to him in English, "we must go. We can make a +stand at the head of the stairs, then the door-way, then----" He +shrugged his shoulders. "Then--the end," he added, as they moved up the +stairs step by step, backward. "My very good friend," he went on, "at +the door we must begin to shoot them down. It is our only chance. It is, +moreover, our duty toward the ladies." + +"There is one alternative," answered Paul. + +"The Moscow Doctor?" + +"Yes." + +"They may turn," said Paul; "they are just in that humor." + +The new-comers were the most dangerous. They were forcing their way to +the front. There was no doubt that, as soon as they could penetrate the +densely packed mob, they would charge up the stairs, even in face of a +heavy fire. The reek of vodka was borne up in the heated atmosphere, +mingled with the nauseating odor of filthy clothing. + +"Go," said Steinmetz, "and put on your doctor's clothes. I can keep them +back for a few minutes." + +There was no time to be lost. Paul slipped away, leaving Steinmetz alone +at the summit of the state stairway, standing grimly, revolver in hand. + +In the drawing-room Paul found Maggie, alone. + +"Where is Etta?" he asked. + +"She left the room some time ago." + +"But I told her to stay," said Paul. + +To this Maggie made no answer. She was looking at him with an anxious +scrutiny. + +"Did they shoot at you?" she asked. + +"Yes; but not straight," he answered, with a little laugh, as he hurried +on. + +In a few moments he was back in the drawing-room, a different man, in +the rough, stained clothes of the Moscow Doctor. The din on the stairs +was louder. Steinmetz was almost in the door-way. He was shooting +economically, picking his men. + +With an effort Paul dragged one or two heavy pieces of furniture across +the room, in the form of a rough barricade. He pointed to the hearthrug +where Maggie was to stand. + +"Ready!" he shouted to Steinmetz. "Come!" + +The German ran in, and Paul closed the barricade. + +The rabble poured in at the open door, screaming and shouting. +Bloodstained, ragged, wild with the madness of murder, they crowded to +the barricade. There they stopped, gazing stupidly at Paul. + +"The Moscow Doctor--the Moscow Doctor!" passed from lip to lip. It was +the women who shouted it the loudest. Like the wind through a forest it +swept out of the room and down the stairs. Those crowding up pushed on +and uttered the words as they came. The room was packed with them. + +"Yes!" shouted Steinmetz, at the top of his great voice, "and the +prince!" + +He knew the note to strike, and struck with a sure hand. The barricade +was torn aside, and the people swept forward, falling on their knees, +grovelling at Paul's feet, kissing the hem of his garment, seizing his +strong hands in theirs. + +It was a mighty harvest. That which is sown in the people's hearts bears +a thousandfold at last. + +"Get them out of the place--open the big doors," said Paul to Steinmetz. +He stood cold and grave among them. + +Some of them were already sneaking toward the door--the ringleaders, the +talkers from the towns--mindful of their own necks in this change of +feeling. + +Steinmetz hustled them out, bidding them take their dead with them. Some +of the servants reappeared, peeping, white-faced, behind curtains. When +the last villager had crossed the threshold, these ran forward to close +and bar the great doors. + +"No," said Paul, from the head of the stairs, "leave them open." + +So the great doors stood defiantly open. The lights of the state +staircase flared out over the village as the peasants crept crest-fallen +to their cottages. They glanced up shamefacedly, but they had no word to +say. + +Steinmetz, in the drawing-room, looked at Paul with his resigned +semi-humorous shrug of the shoulders. + +"Touch-and-go, mein lieber!" he said. + +"Yes; an end of Russia for us," answered the prince. + +He moved toward the door leading through to the old castle. + +"I am going to look for Etta," he said. + +"And I," said Steinmetz, going to the other entrance, "am going to see +who opened the side door." + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII + + +BEHIND THE VEIL + +"Will you come with me?" said Paul to Maggie. "I will send the servants +to put this room to rights." + +Maggie followed him out of the room, and together they went through the +passages, calling Etta and looking for her. There was an air of gloom +and chilliness in the rooms of the old castle. The outline of the great +stones, dimly discernible through the wall-paper, was singularly +suggestive of a fortress thinly disguised. + +"I suppose," said Paul, "that Etta lost her nerve." + +"Yes," answered Maggie doubtfully; "I think it was that." + +Paul went on. He carried a lamp in one steady hand. + +"We shall probably find her in one of these rooms," he said. "It is so +easy to lose one's self among the passages and staircases." + +They passed on through the great smoking-room, with its hunting +trophies. The lynx, with its face of Claude de Chauxville, grinned at +them darkly from its pedestal. + +Half-way down the stairs leading to the side door they met Steinmetz +coming hastily up. His face was white and drawn with horror. + +"You must not go down here," he said, in a husky voice, barring the +passage with his arm. + +"Why not?" + +"Go up again!" said Steinmetz breathlessly. "You must not go down here." + +Paul laid his hand on the broad arm stretched across the stairway. For a +moment it almost appeared to be a physical struggle, then Steinmetz +stepped aside. + +"I beg of you," he said, "not to go down." + +And Paul went on, followed by Steinmetz, and behind them, Maggie. At the +foot of the stairs a broader passage led to the side door, and from this +other passages opened into the servants' quarters, and communicated +through the kitchens with the modern building. + +It was evident that the door leading to the grassy slope at the back of +the castle was open, for a cold wind blew up the stairs and made the +lamps flicker. + +At the end of the passage Paul stopped. + +Steinmetz was a little behind him, holding Maggie back. + +The two lamps lighted up the passage and showed the white form of the +Princess Etta lying huddled up against the wall. The face was hidden, +but there was no mistaking the beautiful dress and hair. It could only +be Etta. Paul stooped down and looked at her, but he did not touch her. +He went a few paces forward and closed the door. Beyond Etta a black +form lay across the passage, all trodden underfoot and dishevelled. Paul +held the lamp down, and through the mud and blood Claude de Chauxville's +clear-cut features were outlined. + +Death is always unmistakable, though it be shown by nothing more than a +heap of muddy clothes. + +Claude de Chauxville was lying across the passage. He had been trodden +underfoot by the stream of maddened peasants who had entered by this +door which had been opened for them, whom Steinmetz had checked at the +foot of the stairs by shooting their ringleader. + +De Chauxville's scalp was torn away by a blow, probably given with a +spade or some blunt instrument. His hand, all muddy and bloodstained, +still held a revolver. + +The other hand was stretched out toward Etta, who lay across his feet, +crouching against the wall. Death had found and left her in an attitude +of fear, shielding her bowed head from a blow with her upraised hands. +Her loosened hair fell in a long wave of gold down to the bloodstained +hand outstretched toward her. She was kneeling in De Chauxville's blood, +which stained the stone floor of the passage. + +Paul leaned forward and laid his fingers on the bare arm, just below a +bracelet which gleamed in the lamplight. She was quite dead. He held a +lamp close to her. There was no mark or scratch upon her arm or +shoulder. The blow which had torn her hair down had killed her without +any disfigurement. The silken skirt of her dress, which lay across the +passage, was trampled and stained by the tread of a hundred feet. + +Then Paul went to Claude de Chauxville. He stooped down and slipped his +skilled fingers inside the torn and mud-stained clothing. Here also was +death. + +Paul stood upright and looked at them as they lay, silent, motionless, +with their tale untold. Maggie and Steinmetz stood watching him. He went +to the door, which was of solid oak four inches thick, and examined the +fastenings. There had been no damage done to bolt, or lock, or hinge. +The door had been opened from the inside. He looked slowly round, +measuring the distances. + +"What is the meaning of it?" he said at length to Steinmetz, in a dull +voice. Maggie winced at the sound of it. + +Steinmetz did not answer at once, but hesitated--after the manner of a +man weighing words which will never be forgotten by their hearers. + +"It seems to me," he said, with a slow, wise charity, the best of its +kind, "quite clear that De Chauxville died in trying to save her--the +rest must be only guesswork." + +Maggie had come forward and was standing beside him. + +"And in guessing let us be charitable--is it not so?" he said, turning +to her, with a twist of his humorous lips. + +"I suppose," he went on, after a little pause, "that Claude de +Chauxville has been at the bottom of all our trouble. All his life he +has been one of the stormy petrels of diplomacy. Wherever he has gone +trouble has followed later. By some means he obtained sufficient mastery +over the princess to compel her to obey his orders. The means he +employed were threats. He had it in his power to make mischief, and in +such affairs a woman is so helpless that we may well forgive that which +she may do in a moment of panic. I imagine that he frightened the poor +lady into obedience to his command that she should open this door. +Before dinner, when we were all in the drawing-room, I noted a little +mark of dust on the white silk skirt of her dress. At the time I thought +only that her maid had been careless. Perhaps you noticed it, +mademoiselle? Ladies note such things." + +He turned to Maggie, who nodded her head. + +"That," he went on, "was the dust of these old passages. She had been +down here. She had opened this door." + +He spread out his hands in deprecation. In his quaint Germanic way he +held one hand out over the two motionless forms in mute prayer that they +might be forgiven. + +"We all have our faults," he said. "Who are we to judge each other? If +we understood all, we might pardon. The two strongest human motives are +ambition and fear. She was ruled by both. I myself have seen her under +the influence of sudden panic. I have noted the working of her great +ambition. She was probably deceived at every turn by that man, who was a +scoundrel. He is dead, and death is understood to wipe out all debts. If +I were a better man than I am, I might speak well of him. But--ach Gott! +that man was a scoundrel! I think the good God will judge between them +and forgive that poor woman. She must have repented of her action when +she heard the clatter of the rioters all round the castle. I am sure she +did that. I am sure she came down here to shut the door, and found +Claude de Chauxville here. They were probably talking together when the +poor mad fools who killed them came round to this side of the castle and +found them. They recognized her as the princess. They probably mistook +him for the prince. It is what men call a series of coincidences. I +wonder what God calls it?" + +He broke off, and, stooping down, he drew the lapel of the Frenchman's +cloak gently over the marred face. + +"And let us remember," he said, "that he tried to save her. Some lives +are so. At the very end a little reparation is made. In life he was her +evil genius. When he died they trampled him underfoot in order to reach +her. Mademoiselle, will you come?" + +He took Maggie by the arm and led her gently away. She was shaking all +over, but his hand was steady and wholly kind. + +He led her up the narrow stairs to her own room. In the little boudoir +the fire was burning brightly; the lamps were lighted, just as the maid +had left them at the first alarm. + +Maggie sat down, and quite suddenly she burst into tears. + +Steinmetz did not leave her. He stood beside her, gently stroking her +shoulder with his stout fingers. He said nothing, but the gray mustache +only half concealed his lips, which were twisted with a little smile +full of tenderness and sympathy. + +Maggie was the first to speak. + +"I am all right now," she said. "Please do not wait any longer, and do +not think me a very weak-minded person. Poor Etta!" + +Steinmetz moved away toward the door. + +"Yes," he said; "poor Etta! It is often those who get on in the world +who need the world's pity most." + +At the door he stopped. + +"To-morrow," he said, "I will take you home to England. Is that +agreeable to you, mademoiselle?" + +She smiled at him sadly through her tears. + +"Yes, I should like that," she said. "This country is horrible. You are +very kind to me." + +Steinmetz went down stairs and found Paul at the door talking to a young +officer, who slowly dismounted and lounged into the hall, conscious of +his brilliant uniform--of his own physical capacity to show off any +uniform to full advantage. + +He was a lieutenant in a Cossack regiment, and as he bowed to Steinmetz, +whom Paul introduced, he swung off his high astrakhan cap with a +flourish, showing a fair boyish face. + +"Yes," he continued to Paul in English; "the general sent me over with a +sotnia of men, and pretty hungry you will find them. We have covered the +whole distance since daybreak. A report reached the old gentleman that +the whole countryside was about to rise against you." + +"Who spread the report?" asked Steinmetz. + +"I believe it originated down at the wharfs. It has been traced to an +old man and his daughter,--a sort of pedler, I think, who took a passage +down the river,--but where they heard the rumor I don't know." + +Paul and Steinmetz carefully avoided looking at each other. They knew +that Catrina and Stépan Lanovitch had sent back assistance. + +"Of course," said Paul, "I am very glad to see you, but I am equally +glad to inform you that you are not wanted. Steinmetz will tell you all +about it, and when you are ready for dinner it will be ready for you. I +will give instructions that the men be cared for." + +"Thanks. The funny thing is that I am instructed, with your approval, to +put the place under martial law and take charge." + +"That will not be necessary, thanks," answered Paul, going out of the +open door to speak to the wild-looking Cossacks sent for his protection. + +In Russia, as in other countries where life is cheaply held, the death +formalities are small. It is only in England, where we are so careful +for the individual and so careless of the type, that we have to pay for +dying, and leave a mass of red-tape formalities for our friends. + +While the young officer was changing his uniform for the evening finery +which his servant's forethought had provided, Paul and Steinmetz +hurriedly arranged what story of the evening should be given to the +world. Knowing the country as they did, they were enabled to tell a true +tale, which was yet devoid of that small personal interest that gossips +love. And all the world ever knew was that the Princess Howard Alexis +was killed by the revolted peasants while attempting to escape by a side +door, and that the Baron Claude de Chauxville, who was staying in the +neighborhood, met his death in attempting to save her from the fury of +the mob. + +On the recommendation of Karl Steinmetz, Paul placed the castle and +village under martial law, and there and then gave the command to the +young Cossack officer, pending further instructions from his general, +commanding at Tver. + +The officer dined with Steinmetz, and under the careful treatment of +that diplomatist inaugurated a reign of military autocracy, which varied +pleasingly between strict discipline and boyish neglect. + +Before the master of the situation had slept off the effect of his +hundred-mile ride and a heavy dinner, the next morning Steinmetz and +Maggie were ready to start on their journey to England. + +The breakfast was served in the room abutting on the cliff in the dim +light of a misty morning. + +The lamps were alight on the table, and Paul was waiting when Maggie +came down cloaked for her journey. Steinmetz had breakfasted. + +They said good-morning, and managed to talk of ordinary things until +Maggie was supplied with coffee and toast and a somewhat heavy, manly +helping of a breakfast-dish. Then came a silence. + +Paul broke it at length with an effort, standing, as it were, on the +edge of the forbidden topic. + +"Steinmetz will take you all the way," he said, "and then come back to +me. You can safely trust yourself to his care." + +"Yes," answered the girl, looking at the food set before her with a +helpless stare. "It is not that. Can I safely trust Etta's memory to +your judgment? You are very stern, Paul. I think you might easily +misjudge her. Men do not always understand a woman's temptations." + +Paul had not sat down. He walked away to the window, and stood there +looking out into the gloomy mists. + +"It is not because she was my cousin," said Maggie from the table; "it +is because she was a woman leaving her memory to be judged by two men +who are both--hard." + +Paul neither looked round nor answered. + +"When a woman has to form her own life, and renders it a prominent one, +she usually makes a huge mistake of it," said the girl. + +She waited a moment, and then she pleaded once more, hastily, for she +heard a step approaching. + +"If you only understood every thing you might think differently--it is +because you cannot understand." + +Then Paul turned round slowly. + +"No," he said, "I cannot understand it, and I do not think that I ever +shall." + +And Steinmetz came into the room. + +In a few minutes the sleigh bearing Steinmetz and Maggie disappeared +into the gloom, closely followed by a couple of Cossacks acting as guard +and carrying despatches. + +So Etta Sydney Bamborough--the Princess Howard Alexis--came back after +all to her husband, lying in a nameless grave in the churchyard by the +Volga at Tver. Within the white walls--beneath the shadow of the great +spangled cupola--they await the Verdict, almost side by side. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV + + +KISMET + +Between Brandon in Suffolk and Thetford in Norfolk runs a quiet river, +the Little Ouse, where few boats break the stillness of the water. On +either bank stand whispering beech-trees, and so low is the music of the +leaves that the message of Ely's distant bells floats through them on a +quiet evening as far as Brandon and beyond it. + +Three years after Etta's death, in the glow of an April sunset, a +Canadian canoe was making its stealthy way up the river. The paddle +crept in and out so gently, so lazily and peacefully, that the dabchicks +and other waterfowl did not cease their chatter of nests and other April +matters as the canoe glided by. + +So quiet, indeed, was its progress that Karl Steinmetz--suddenly +white-headed, as strong old men are apt to find themselves--did not heed +its approach. He was sitting on the bank with a gun, a little rifle, +lying on the grass beside him. He was half-asleep in the enjoyment of a +large Havana cigar. The rays of the setting sun, peeping through the +lower branches, made him blink lazily like a large, good-natured cat. + +He turned his head slowly, with a hunter's consciousness of the approach +of some one, and contemplated the canoe with a sense of placid +satisfaction. + +The small craft was passing in the shadow of a great tree--stealing over +the dark, unruffled depth. A girl dressed in white, with a large +diaphanous white hat and a general air of brisk English daintiness, was +paddling slowly and with no great skill. + +"A picture," said Steinmetz to himself with Teutonic deliberation. "Gott +im Himmel! what a pretty picture to make an old man young!" + +Then his gray eyes opened suddenly and he rose to his feet. + +"Coloss-a-al!" he muttered. He dragged from his head a lamentable old +straw hat and swept a courteous bow. + +"Mademoiselle," he said, "ah, what happiness! After three years!" + +Maggie stopped and looked at him with troubled eyes; all the color +slowly left her face. + +"What are you doing here?" she asked. And there was something like fear +in her voice. + +"No harm, mademoiselle, but good. I have come down from big game to +vermin. I have here a saloon rifle. I wait till a water-rat comes, and +then I shoot him." + +The canoe had drifted closer to the land, the paddle trailing in the +water. + +"You are looking at my white hairs," he went on, in a sudden need of +conversation. "Please bring your boat a little nearer." + +The paddle twisted lazily in the water like a fish's tail. + +"Hold tight," he said, reaching down. + +With a little laugh he lifted the canoe and its occupant far up on to +the bank. + +"Despite my white hairs," he said, with a tap of both hands on his broad +chest. + +"I attach no importance to them," she answered, taking his proffered +hand and stepping over the light bulwark. "I have gray ones myself. I am +getting old too." + +"How old?" he asked, looking down at her with his old bluntness. + +"Twenty-eight." + +"Ah, they are summers," he said; "mine have turned to winters. Will you +sit here where I was sitting? See, I will spread this rug for your white +dress." + +Maggie paused, looking through the trees toward the sinking sun. The +light fell on her face and showed one or two lines which had not been +there before. It showed a patient tenderness in the steady eyes which +had always been there--which Catrina had noticed in the stormy days that +were past. + +"I cannot stay long," she replied. "I am with the Faneaux at Brandon for +a few days. They dine at seven." + +"Ah! her ladyship is a good friend of mine. You remember her charity +ball in town, when it was settled that you should come to Osterno. A +strange world, mademoiselle--a very strange world, so small, and yet so +large and bare for some of us!" + +Maggie looked at him. Then she sat down. + +"Tell me," she said, "all that has happened since then." + +"I went back," answered Steinmetz, "and we were duly exiled from Russia. +It was sure to come. We were too dangerous. Altogether too quixotic for +an autocracy. For myself I did not mind, but it hurt Paul." + +There was a little pause, while the water lapped and whispered at their +feet. + +"I heard," said Maggie at length, in a measured voice, "that he had gone +abroad for big game." + +"Yes--to India." + +"He did not go to America?" enquired Maggie indifferently. She was idly +throwing fragments of wood into the river. + +"No," answered Steinmetz, looking straight in front of him. "No, he did +not go to America." + +"And you?" + +"I--oh, I stayed at home. I have taken a house. It is behind the trees. +You cannot see it. I live at peace with all men and pay my bills every +week. Sometimes Paul comes and stays with me. Sometimes I go and stay +with him in London or in Scotland. I smoke and shoot water-rats, and +watch the younger generation making the same mistakes that we made in +our time. You have heard that my country is in order again? They have +remembered me. For my sins they have made me a count. Bon Dieu! I do not +mind. They may make me a prince, if it pleases them." + +He was watching her face beneath his grim old eyebrows. + +"These details bore you," he said. + +"No." + +"When Paul and I are together we talk of a new heaven and a new Russia. +But it will not come in our time. We are only the sowers, and the +harvest is not yet. But I tell Paul that he has not sown wild oats, nor +sour grapes, nor thistles." + +He paused, and the expression of his face changed to one of +semi-humorous gravity. + +"Mademoiselle," he went on, "it has been my lot to love the prince like +a son. It has been my lot to stand helplessly by while he passed through +many troubles. Perhaps the good God gave him all his troubles at first. +Do you think so?" + +Maggie was looking straight in front of her across the quiet river. + +"Perhaps so," she said. + +Steinmetz also stared in front of him during a little silence. The +common thoughts of two minds may well be drawn together by the +contemplation of a common object. Then he turned toward her. + +"It will be a happiness for him to see you," he said quietly. + +Maggie ceased breaking small branches and throwing them into the river. +She ceased all movement, and scarcely seemed to breathe. + +"What do you mean?" she asked. + +"He is staying with me here." + +Maggie glanced toward the canoe. She drew a short, sharp breath, but she +did not move. + +"Mademoiselle," said Steinmetz earnestly, "I am an old man, and in my +time I have dabbled pretty deeply in trouble. But taking it all around, +even my life has had its compensations. And I have seen lives which, +taken as a mere mortal existence, without looking to the hereafter at +all, have been quite worth the living. There is much happiness in life +to make up for the rest. But that happiness must be firmly held. It is +so easily slipped through the fingers. A little irresolution--a little +want of moral courage--a little want of self-confidence--a little pride, +and it is lost. You follow me?" + +Maggie nodded. There was a great tenderness in her eyes--such a +tenderness as, resting on men, may bring them nearer to the angels. + +Steinmetz laid his large hand over hers. + +"Mademoiselle," he went on, "I believe that the good God sent you along +this lonely river in your boat. Paul leaves me to-morrow. His +arrangements are to go to India and shoot tigers. He will sail in a +week. There are things of which we never speak together--there is one +name that is never mentioned. Since Osterno you have avoided meeting +him. God knows I am not asking for him any thing that he would be afraid +to ask for himself. But he also has his pride. He will not force himself +in where he thinks his presence unwelcome." + +Steinmetz rose somewhat ponderously and stood looking down at her. He +did not, however, succeed in meeting her eyes. + +"Mademoiselle," he said, "I beg of you most humbly--most +respectfully--to come through the garden with me toward the house, so +that Paul may at least know that you are here." + +He moved away and stood for a moment with his back turned to her, +looking toward the house. The crisp rustle of her dress came to him as +she rose to her feet. + +Without looking round, he walked slowly on. The path through the trees +was narrow, two could not walk abreast. After a few yards Steinmetz +emerged on to a large, sloping lawn with flower beds, and a long, low +house above it. On the covered terrace a man sat writing at a table. He +was surrounded by papers, and the pen in his large, firm hand moved +rapidly over the sheet before him. + +"We still administer the estate," said Steinmetz, in a low voice. "From +our exile we still sow our seed." + +They approached over the mossy turf, and presently Paul looked up--a +strong face, stern and self-contained; the face of a man who would +always have a purpose in life, who would never be petty in thought or +deed. + +For a moment he did not seem to recognize them. Then he rose, and the +pen fell on the flags of the terrace. + +"It is mademoiselle!" said Steinmetz, and no other word was spoken. + +Maggie walked on in a sort of unconsciousness. She only knew that they +were all acting an inevitable part, written for them in the great +libretto of life. She never noticed that Steinmetz had left her side, +that she was walking across the lawn alone. + +Paul came to meet her, and took her hand in silence. There was so much +to say that words seemed suddenly valueless; there was so little to say +that they were unnecessary. + +For that which these two had to tell each other cannot be told in +minutes, nor yet in years; it cannot even be told in a lifetime, for it +is endless, and it runs through eternity. + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sowers, by Henry Seton Merriman + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOWERS *** + +***** This file should be named 10132-8.txt or 10132-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/1/3/10132/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Christine Gehring and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Sowers + +Author: Henry Seton Merriman + +Release Date: November 19, 2003 [EBook #10132] +Last Updated: November 9, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOWERS *** + + + + +Etext produced by Juliet Sutherland, Christine Gehring and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE SOWERS + </h1> + <h2> + By Henry Seton Merriman + </h2> + <h3> + 1895 + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + + <h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto" cellpadding="4" border="3"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>THE SOWERS</b> </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </td> + <td> + A WAIF ON THE STEPPE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </td> + <td> + BY THE VOLGA + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </td> + <td> + DIPLOMATIC + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </td> + <td> + DON QUIXOTE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </td> + <td> + THE BARON + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </td> + <td> + THE TALLEYRAND CLUB + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </td> + <td> + OLD HANDS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </td> + <td> + SAFE! + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </td> + <td> + THE PRINCE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </td> + <td> + THE MOSCOW DOCTOR + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </td> + <td> + CATRINA + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </td> + <td> + AT THORS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </td> + <td> + UNMASKED + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </td> + <td> + A WIRE-PULLER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </td> + <td> + IN A WINTER CITY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </td> + <td> + THE THIN END + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </td> + <td> + CHARITY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </td> + <td> + IN THE CHAMPS ILYSIES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </td> + <td> + ON THE NEVA + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </td> + <td> + AN OFFER OF FRIENDSHIP + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </td> + <td> + A SUSPECTED HOUSE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> + </td> + <td> + THE SPIDER AND THE FLY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> + </td> + <td> + A WINTER SCENE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> + </td> + <td> + HOME + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a> + </td> + <td> + OSTERNO + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI </a> + </td> + <td> + BLOODHOUNDS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII </a> + </td> + <td> + IN THE WEB + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII </a> + </td> + <td> + IN THE CASTLE OF THORS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX </a> + </td> + <td> + ANGLO-RUSSIAN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX </a> + </td> + <td> + WOLF! + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI </a> + </td> + <td> + A DANGEROUS EXPERIMENT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII </a> + </td> + <td> + A CLOUD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII </a> + </td> + <td> + THE NET IS DRAWN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV </a> + </td> + <td> + AN APPEAL + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV </a> + </td> + <td> + ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI </a> + </td> + <td> + @ TROIS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER XXXVII </a> + </td> + <td> + @ DEUX + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER XXXVIII </a> + </td> + <td> + A TALE THAT IS TOLD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER XXXIX </a> + </td> + <td> + HUSBAND AND WIFE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER XL </a> + </td> + <td> + STIPAN RETURNS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER XLI </a> + </td> + <td> + DUTY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER XLII </a> + </td> + <td> + THE STORM BURSTS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0043"> CHAPTER XLIII </a> + </td> + <td> + BEHIND THE VEIL + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0044"> CHAPTER XLIV </a> + </td> + <td> + KISMET + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE SOWERS + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I — A WAIF ON THE STEPPE + </h2> + <h3> + “In this country charity covers no sins!” + </h3> + <p> + The speaker finished his remark with a short laugh. He was a big, stout + man; his name was Karl Steinmetz, and it is a name well known in the + Government of Tver to this day. He spoke jerkily, as stout men do when + they ride, and when he had laughed his good-natured, half-cynical laugh, + he closed his lips beneath a huge gray mustache. So far as one could judge + from the action of a square and deeply indented chin, his mouth was + expressive at that time—and possibly at all times—of a + humorous resignation. No reply was vouchsafed to him, and Karl Steinmetz + bumped along on his little Cossack horse, which was stretched out at a + gallop. + </p> + <p> + Evening was drawing on. It was late in October, and a cold wind was + driving from the north-west across a plain which for sheer dismalness of + aspect may give points to Sahara and beat that abode of mental depression + without an effort. So far as the eye could reach there was no habitation + to break the line of horizon. A few stunted fir-trees, standing in a + position of permanent deprecation, with their backs turned, as it were, to + the north, stood sparsely on the plain. The grass did not look good to + eat, though the Cossack horses would no doubt have liked to try it. The + road seemed to have been drawn by some Titan engineer with a ruler from + horizon to horizon. + </p> + <p> + Away to the south there was a forest of the same stunted pines, where a + few charcoal-burners and resin-tappers eked out a forlorn and obscure + existence. There are a score of such settlements, such gloomy forests, + dotted over this plain of Tver, which covers an area of nearly two hundred + square miles. The remainder of it is pasture, where miserable cattle and a + few horses, many sheep and countless pigs, seek their food pessimistically + from God. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz looked round over this cheerless prospect with a twinkle of + amused resignation in his blue eyes, as if this creation were a little + practical joke, which he, Karl Steinmetz, appreciated at its proper worth. + The whole scene was suggestive of immense distance, of countless miles in + all directions—a suggestion not conveyed by any scene in England, by + few in Europe. In our crowded island we have no conception of a thousand + miles. How can we? Few of us have travelled five hundred at a stretch. The + land through which these men were riding is the home of great distances—Russia. + They rode, moreover, as if they knew it—as if they had ridden for + days and were aware of more days in front of them. + </p> + <p> + The companion of Karl Steinmetz looked like an Englishman. He was young + and fair and quiet. He looked like a youthful athlete from Oxford or + Cambridge—a simple-minded person who had jumped higher or run + quicker than anybody else without conceit, taking himself, like St. Paul, + as he found himself and giving the credit elsewhere. And one finds that, + after all, in this world of deceit, we are most of us that which we look + like. You, madam, look thirty-five to a day, although your figure is still + youthful, your hair untouched by gray, your face unseamed by care. You may + look in your mirror and note these accidents with satisfaction; you may + feel young and indulge in the pastimes of youth without effort. But you + are thirty-five. We know it. We who look at you can see it for ourselves, + and, if you could only be brought to believe it, we think no worse of you + on that account. + </p> + <p> + The man who rode beside Karl Steinmetz with gloomy eyes and a vague + suggestion of flight in his whole demeanor was, like reader and writer, + exactly what he seemed. He was the product of an English public school and + university. He was, moreover, a modern product of those seats of athletic + exercise. He had little education and highly developed muscles—that + is to say, he was no scholar but essentially a gentleman—a good + enough education in its way, and long may Britons seek it! + </p> + <p> + This young man’s name was Paul Howard Alexis, and Fortune had made + him a Russian prince. If, however, anyone, even Steinmetz, called him + prince, he blushed and became confused. This terrible title had brooded + over him while at Eton and Cambridge. But no one had found him out; he + remained Paul Howard Alexis so far as England and his friends were + concerned. In Russia, however, he was known (by name only, for he avoided + Slavonic society) as Prince Pavlo Alexis. This plain was his; half the + Government of Tver was his; the great Volga rolled through his + possessions; sixty miles behind him a grim stone castle bore his name, and + a tract of land as vast as Yorkshire was peopled by humble-minded persons + who cringed at the mention of his Excellency. + </p> + <p> + All this because thirty years earlier a certain Princess Natasha Alexis + had fallen in love with plain Mr. Howard of the British Embassy in St. + Petersburg. With Slavonic enthusiasm (for the Russian is the most romantic + race on earth) she informed Mr. Howard of the fact, and duly married him. + Both these persons were now dead, and Paul Howard Alexis owed it to his + mother’s influence in high regions that the responsibilities of + princedom were his. At the time when this title was accorded to him he had + no say in the matter. Indeed, he had little say in any matters except + meals, which he still took in liquid form. Certain it is, however, that he + failed to appreciate his honors as soon as he grew up to a proper + comprehension of them. + </p> + <p> + Equally certain is it that he entirely failed to recognize the enviability + of his position as he rode across the plains of Tver toward the yellow + Volga by the side of Karl Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + “This is great nonsense,” he said suddenly. “I feel like + a Nihilist or some theatrical person of that sort. I do not think it can + be necessary, Steinmetz.” + </p> + <p> + “Not necessary,” answered Steinmetz in thick guttural tones, + “but prudent.” + </p> + <p> + This man spoke with the soft consonants of a German. + </p> + <p> + “Prudent, my dear prince.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, drop that!” + </p> + <p> + “When we sight the Volga I will drop it with pleasure. Good Heavens! + I wish I were a prince. I should have it marked on my linen, and sit up in + bed to read it on my nightshirt.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you wouldn’t, Steinmetz,” answered Alexis, with a + vexed laugh. “You would hate it just as much as I do, especially if + it meant running away from the best bear-shooting in Europe.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Then you should not have been charitable—charity, I tell you, + Alexis, covers no sins in this country.” + </p> + <p> + “Who made me charitable? Besides, no decent-minded fellow could be + anything else here. Who told me of the League of Charity, I should like to + know? Who put me into it? Who aroused my pity for these poor beggars? Who + but a stout German cynic called Steinmetz?” + </p> + <p> + “Stout, yes—cynic, if you will—German, no!” + </p> + <p> + The words were jerked out of him by the galloping horse. + </p> + <p> + “Then what are you?” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz looked straight in front of him, with a meditation in his quiet + eyes which made a dreamy man of him. + </p> + <p> + “That depends.” + </p> + <p> + Alexis laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know. In Germany you are a German, in Russia a Slav, in + Poland a Pole, and in England any thing the moment suggests.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly so. But to return to you. You must trust to me in this + matter. I know this country. I know what this League of Charity was. It + was a bigger thing than any dream of. It was a power in Russia—the + greatest of all—above Nihilism—above the Emperor himself. Ach + Gott! It was a wonderful organization, spreading over this country like + sunlight over a field. It would have made men of our poor peasants. It was + God’s work. If there is a God—bien entendu—which some + young men deny, because God fails to recognize their importance, I + imagine. And now it is all done. It is crumbled up by the scurrilous + treachery of some miscreant. Ach! I should like to have him out here on + the plain. I would choke him. For money, too! The devil—it must have + been the devil—to sell that secret to the Government!” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t see what the Government wanted it for,” growled + Alexis moodily. + </p> + <p> + “No, but I can. It is not the Emperor; he is a gentleman, although + he has the misfortune to wear the purple. No, it is those about him. They + want to stop education; they want to crush the peasant. They are afraid of + being found out; they live in their grand houses, and support their grand + names on the money they crush out of the starving peasant.” + </p> + <p> + “So do I, so far as that goes.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you do! And I am your steward—your crusher. We do + not deny it, we boast of it, but we exchange a wink with the angels—eh?” + </p> + <p> + Alexis rode on in silence for a few moments. He sat his horse as English + foxhunters do—not prettily—and the little animal with erect + head and scraggy neck was evidently worried by the unusual grip on his + ribs. For Russians sit back, with a short stirrup and a loose seat, when + they are travelling. One must not form one’s idea of Russian + horsemanship from the erect carriage affected in the Newski Prospect. + </p> + <p> + “I wish,” he said abruptly, “that I had never attempted + to do any good; doing good to mankind doesn’t pay. Here I am running + away from my own home as if I were afraid of the police! The position is + impossible.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz shook his shaggy head. + </p> + <p> + “No. No position is impossible in this country—except the Czar’s—if + one only keeps cool. For men such as you and I any position is quite easy. + But these Russians are too romantic—too exaltis—they give way + to a morbid love of martyrdom: they think they can do no good to mankind + unless they are uncomfortable.” + </p> + <p> + Alexis turned in his saddle and looked keenly into his companion’s + face. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know,” he said, “I believe you founded the + Charity League?” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz laughed in his easy, stout way. + </p> + <p> + “It founded itself,” he said; “the angels founded it in + heaven. I hope a committee of them will attend to the eternal misery of + the dog who betrayed it.” + </p> + <p> + “I trust they will, but in the meantime I stick to my opinion that + it is unnecessary for me to leave the country. What have I done? I do not + belong to the League; it is composed entirely of Russian nobles; I don’t + admit that I am a Russian noble.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” persisted Steinmetz quietly, “you subscribe to + the League. Four hundred thousand rubles—they do not grow at the + roadside.” + </p> + <p> + “But the rubles have not my name on them.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be, but we all—<i>they all</i>—know where they + are likely to come from. My dear Paul, you cannot keep up the farce any + longer. You are not an English gentleman who comes across here for + sporting purposes; you do not live in the old Castle of Osterno three + months in the year because you have a taste for mediaeval fortresses. You + are a Russian prince, and your estates are the happiest, the most + enlightened in the empire. That alone is suspicious. You collect your + rents yourself. You have no German agents—no German vampires about + you. There are a thousand things suspicious about Prince Pavlo Alexis if + those that be in high places only come to think about it. They have not + come to think about it—thanks to our care and to your English + independence. But that is only another reason why we should redouble our + care. You must not be in Russia when the Charity League is picked to + pieces. There will be trouble—half the nobility in Russia will be in + it. There will be confiscations and degradations: there will be + imprisonment and Siberia for some. You are better out of it, for you are + not an Englishman; you have not even a Foreign Office passport. Your + passport is your patent of nobility, and that is Russian. No, you are + better out of it.” + </p> + <p> + “And you—what about you?” asked Paul, with a little + laugh—the laugh that one brave man gives when he sees another do a + plucky thing. + </p> + <p> + “I! Oh, I am all right! I am nobody; I am hated of all the peasants + because I am your steward and so hard—so cruel. That is my + certificate of harmlessness with those that are about the Emperor.” + </p> + <p> + Paul made no answer. He was not of an argumentative mind, being a large + man, and consequently inclined to the sins of omission rather than to the + active form of doing wrong. He had an enormous faith in Karl Steinmetz, + and, indeed, no man knew Russia better than this cosmopolitan adventurer. + Steinmetz it was who pricked forward with all speed, wearing his hardy + little horse to a drooping semblance of its former self. Steinmetz it was + who had recommended quitting the travelling carriage and taking to the + saddle, although his own bulk led him to prefer the slower and more + comfortable method of covering space. It would almost seem that he doubted + his own ascendency over his companion and master, which semblance was + further increased by a subtle ring of anxiety in his voice while he + argued. It is possible that Karl Steinmetz suspected the late Princess + Natasha of having transmitted to her son a small hereditary portion of + that Slavonic exaltation and recklessness of consequence which he + deplored. + </p> + <p> + “Then you turn back at Tver?” enquired Paul, at length + breaking a long silence. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I must not leave Osterno just now. Perhaps later, when the + winter has come, I will follow. Russia is quiet during the winter, very + quiet. Ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders and shivered. But the shiver was interrupted. He + raised himself in his saddle and peered forward into the gathering + darkness. + </p> + <p> + “What is that,” he asked sharply, “on the road in front?” + </p> + <p> + Paul had already seen it. + </p> + <p> + “It looks like a horse,” he answered—“a strayed + horse, for it has no rider.” + </p> + <p> + They were going west, and what little daylight there was lived on the + western horizon. The form of the horse, cut out in black relief against + the sky, was weird and ghostlike. It was standing by the side of the road, + apparently grazing. As they approached it, its outlines became more + defined. + </p> + <p> + “It has a saddle,” said Steinmetz at length. “What have + we here?” + </p> + <p> + The beast was evidently famishing, for, as they came near, it never ceased + its occupation of dragging the wizened tufts of grass up, root and all. + </p> + <p> + “What have we here?” repeated Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + And the two men clapped spurs to their tired horses. + </p> + <p> + The solitary waif had a rider, but he was not in the saddle. One foot was + caught in the stirrup, and as the horse moved on from tuft to tuft it + dragged its dead master along the ground. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II — BY THE VOLGA + </h2> + <p> + “This is going to be unpleasant,” muttered Steinmetz, as he + cumbrously left the saddle. “That man is dead—has been dead + some days; he’s stiff. And the horse has been dragging him face + downward. God in heaven! this will be unpleasant.” + </p> + <p> + Paul had leaped to the ground, and was already loosening the dead man’s + foot from the stirrup. He did it with a certain sort of skill, despite the + stiffness of the heavy riding-boot, as if he had walked a hospital in his + time. Very quickly Steinmetz came to his assistance, tenderly lifting the + dead man and laying him on his back. + </p> + <p> + “Ach!” he exclaimed; “we are unfortunate to meet a thing + like this.” + </p> + <p> + There was no need of Paul Alexis’ medical skill to tell that this + man was dead; a child would have known it. Before searching the pockets + Steinmetz took out his own handkerchief and laid it over a face which had + become unrecognizable. The horse was standing over them. It bent its head + and sniffed wonderingly at that which had once been its master. There was + a singular, scared look in its eyes. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz pushed aside the enquiring muzzle. + </p> + <p> + “If you could speak, my friend,” he said, “we might want + you. As it is, you had better continue your meal.” + </p> + <p> + Paul was unbuttoning the dead man’s clothes. He inserted his hand + within the rough shirt. + </p> + <p> + “This man,” he said, “was starving. He probably fainted + from sheer exhaustion and rolled out of the saddle. It is hunger that + killed him.” + </p> + <p> + “With his pocket full of money,” added Steinmetz, withdrawing + his hand from the dead man’s pocket and displaying a bundle of notes + and some silver. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing in any of the other pockets—no paper, no clue of + any sort to the man’s identity. + </p> + <p> + The two finders of this silent tragedy stood up and looked around them. It + was almost dark. They were ten miles from a habitation. It does not sound + much; but a traveller would be hard put to place ten miles between himself + and a habitation in the whole of the British Islands. This, added to a + lack of road or path which is unknown to us in England, made ten miles of + some importance. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz had pushed his fur cap to the back of his head, which he was + scratching pensively. He had a habit of scratching his forehead with one + finger, which denoted thought. + </p> + <p> + “Now, what are we to do?” he muttered. “Can’t bury + the poor chap and say nothing about it. I wonder where his passport is? We + have here a tragedy.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to the horse, which was grazing hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + “My friend of the four legs,” he said, “it is a thousand + pities that you are dumb.” + </p> + <p> + Paul was still examining the dead man with that callousness which denotes + one who, for love or convenience, has become a doctor. He was a doctor—an + amateur. He was a Caius man. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz looked down at him with a little laugh. He noticed the + tenderness of the touch, the deft fingering which had something of respect + in it. Paul Alexis was visibly one of those men who take mankind + seriously, and have that in their hearts which for want of a better word + we call sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “Mind you do not catch some infectious disease,” said + Steinmetz gruffly. “I should not care to handle any stray moujik one + finds dead about the roadside; unless, of course, you think there is more + money about him. It would be a pity to leave that for the police.” + </p> + <p> + Paul did not answer. He was examining the limp, dirty hands of the dead + man. The fingers were covered with soil, the nails were broken. He had + evidently clutched at the earth and at every tuft of grass, after his fall + from the saddle. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, at these hands,” said Paul suddenly. “This + is an Englishman. You never see fingers this shape in Russia.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz stooped down. He held out his own square-tipped fingers in + comparison. Paul rubbed the dead hand with his sleeve as if it were a + piece of statuary. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he continued, “the dirt rubs off and leaves + the hand quite a gentlemanly color. This”—he paused and lifted + Steinmetz’s handkerchief, dropping it again hurriedly over the + mutilated face—“this thing was once a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “It certainly has seen better days,” admitted Steinmetz, with + a grim humor which was sometimes his. “Come, let us drag him beneath + that pine-tree and ride on to Tver. We shall do no good, my dear Alexis, + wasting our time over the possible antecedents of a gentleman who, for + reasons of his own, is silent on the subject.” + </p> + <p> + Paul rose from the ground. His movements were those of a strong and supple + man, one whose muscles had never had time to grow stiff. He was an active + man, who never hurried. Standing thus upright he was very tall—nearly + a giant. Only in St. Petersburg, of all the cities of the world, could he + expect to pass unnoticed—the city of tall men and plain women. He + rubbed his two hands together in a singularly professional manner which + sat amiss on him. + </p> + <p> + “What do you propose doing?” he asked. “You know the + laws of this country better than I do.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz scratched his forehead with his forefinger. + </p> + <p> + “Our theatrical friends the police,” he said, “are going + to enjoy this. Suppose we prop him up sitting against that tree—no + one will run away with him—and lead his horse into Tver. I will give + notice to the police, but I will not do so until you are in the Petersburg + train. I will, of course, give the ispravnik to understand that your + princely mind could not be bothered by such details as this—that you + have proceeded on your journey.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not like leaving the poor beggar alone all night,” said + Paul. “There may be wolves—the crows in the early morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! that is because you are so soft-hearted. My dear fellow, what + business is it of ours if the universal laws of nature are illustrated + upon this unpleasant object? We all live on each other. The wolves and the + crows have the last word. Tant mieux for the wolves and the crows! Come, + let us carry him to that tree.” + </p> + <p> + The moon was just rising over the line of the horizon. All around them the + steppe lay in grim and lifeless silence. In such a scene, where life + seemed rare and precious, death gained in its power of inspiring fear. It + is different in crowded cities, where an excess of human life seems to + vouch for the continuity of the race, where, in a teeming population, one + life more or less seems of little value. The rosy hue of sunset was fading + to a clear green, and in the midst of a cloudless sky, Jupiter—very + near the earth at that time—shone intense, and brilliant like a + lamp. It was an evening such as only Russia and the great North lands ever + see, where the sunset is almost in the north and the sunrise holds it by + the hand. Over the whole scene there hung a clear, transparent night, + green and shimmering, which would never be darker than an English + twilight. + </p> + <p> + The two living men carried the nameless, unrecognizable dead to a + resting-place beneath a stunted pine a few paces removed from the road. + They laid him decently at full length, crossing his soil-begrimed hands + over his breast, tying the handkerchief down over his face. + </p> + <p> + Then they turned and left him, alone in that luminous night. A waif that + had fallen by the great highway without a word, without a sign. A half-run + race—a story cut off in the middle; for he was a young man still; + his hair, all dusty, draggled, and bloodstained, had no streak of gray; + his hands were smooth and youthful. There was a vague suspicion of sensual + softness about his body, as if this might have been a man who loved + comfort and ease, who had always chosen the primrose path, had never + learned the salutary lesson of self-denial. The incipient stoutness of + limb contrasted strangely with the drawn meagreness of his body, which was + contracted by want of food. Paul Alexis was right. This man had died of + starvation, within ten miles of the great Volga, within nine miles of the + outskirts of Tver, a city second to Moscow, and once her rival. Therefore + it could only be that he had purposely avoided the dwellings of men; that + he was a fugitive of some sort or another. Paul’s theory that this + was an Englishman had not been received with enthusiasm by Steinmetz; but + that philosopher had stooped to inspect the narrow, tell-tale fingers. + Steinmetz, be it noted, had an infinite capacity for holding his tongue. + </p> + <p> + They mounted their horses and rode away without looking back. But they did + not speak, as if each were deep in his own thoughts. Material had indeed + been afforded them, for who could tell who this featureless man might be? + They were left in a state of hopeless curiosity, as who, having picked up + a page with “Finis” written upon it, falls to wondering what + the story may have been. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz had thrown the bridle of the straying horse over his arm, and + the animal trotted obediently by the side of the fidgety little Cossacks. + </p> + <p> + “That was bad luck,” exclaimed the elder man at length, + “d—d bad luck! In this country the less you find, the less you + see, the less you understand, the simpler is your existence. Those + Nihilists, with their mysterious ways and their reprehensible love of + explosives, have made honest men’s lives a burden to them.” + </p> + <p> + “Their motives were originally good,” put in Paul. + </p> + <p> + “That is possible; but a good motive is no excuse for a bad means. + They wanted to get along too quickly. They are pig-headed, exalted, + unpractical to a man. I do not mention the women, because when women + meddle in politics they make fools of themselves, even in England. These + Nihilists would have been all very well if they had been content to sow + for posterity. But they wanted to see the fruits of their labors in one + generation. Education does not grow like that. It requires a couple of + generations to germinate. It has to be manured by the brains of fools + before it is of any use. In England it has reached this stage; here in + Russia the sowing has only begun. Now, we were doing some good. The + Charity League was the thing. It began by training their starved bodies to + be ready for the education when it came. And very little of it would have + come in our time. If you educate a hungry man, you set a devil loose upon + the world. Fill their stomachs before you feed their brains, or you will + give them mental indigestion; and a man with mental indigestion raises + hell or cuts his own throat.” + </p> + <p> + “That is just what I want to do—fill their stomachs. I don’t + care about the rest. I’m not responsible for the progress of the + world or the good of humanity,” said Paul. + </p> + <p> + He rode on in silence; then he burst out again in the curt phraseology of + a man whose feeling is stronger than he cares to admit. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve got no grand ideas about the human race,” he said. + “A very little contents me. A little piece of Tver, a few thousand + peasants, are good enough for me. It seems rather hard that a fellow can’t + give away of his surplus money in charity if he is such a fool as to want + to.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz was riding stubbornly along. Suddenly he gave a little chuckle—a + guttural sound expressive of a somewhat Germanic satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see how they can stop us,” he said. “The + League, of course, is done; it will crumble away in sheer panic. But here, + in Tver, they cannot stop us.” + </p> + <p> + He clapped his great hand on his thigh with more glee than one would have + expected him to feel; for this man posed as a cynic—a despiser of + men, a scoffer at charity. + </p> + <p> + “They’ll find it very difficult to stop me,” muttered + Paul Alexis. + </p> + <p> + It was now dark—as dark as ever it would be. Steinmetz peered + through the gloom toward him with a little laugh—half tolerance, + half admiration. + </p> + <p> + The country was here a little more broken. Long, low hills, like vast + waves, rose and fell beneath the horses’ feet. Ages ago the Volga + may have been here, and, slowly narrowing, must have left these hills in + deposit. From the crest of an incline the horsemen looked down over a vast + rolling tableland, and far ahead of them a great white streak bounded the + horizon. + </p> + <p> + “The Volga!” said Steinmetz. “We are almost there. And + there, to the right, is the Tversha. It is like a great catapult. Gott! + what a wonderful night! No wonder these Russians are romantic. What a + night for a pipe and a long chair! This horse of mine is tired. He shakes + me most abominably.” + </p> + <p> + “Like to change?” enquired Paul curtly. + </p> + <p> + “No; it would make no difference. You are as heavy as I, although I + am wider! Ah! there are the lights of Tver.” + </p> + <p> + Ahead of them a few lights twinkled feebly, sometimes visible and then + hidden again as they rode over the rolling hillocks. One plain ever + suggests another, but the resemblance between the steppes of Tver and the + great Sahara is at times startling. There is in both that roll as of the + sea—the great roll that heaves unceasingly round the Capes of Good + Hope and Horn. Looked at casually, Tver and Sahara’s plains are + level, and it is only in crossing them that one realizes the gentle up and + down beneath the horses’ feet. + </p> + <p> + Soon Steinmetz raised his head and sniffed in a loud Teutonic manner. It + was the reek of water; for great rivers, like the ocean, have their smell. + And the Volga is a revelation. Men travel far to see a city, but few seem + curious about a river. Every river has, nevertheless, its individuality, + its great silent interest. Every river has, moreover, its influence, which + extends to the people who pass their lives within sight of its waters. + Thus the Guadalquivir is rapid, mysterious, untrammelled—breaking + frequently from its boundary. And it runs through Andalusia. The Nile—the + river of ages—runs clear, untroubled through the centuries, between + banks untouched by man. The Rhine—romantic, cultivated, artificial, + with a rough subcurrent and a muddy bed—through Germany. The Seine + and the Thames—shallow—shallow—shallow. And we—who + live upon their banks! + </p> + <p> + The Volga—immense, stupendous, a great power, an influence two + thousand four hundred miles long. Some have seen the Danube, and think + they have seen a great river. So they have; but the Russian giant is seven + hundred miles longer. A vast yellow stream, moving on to the distant sea—slow, + gentle, inexorable, overwhelming. + </p> + <p> + All great things in nature have the power of crushing the human intellect. + Russians are thus crushed by the vastness of their country, of their + rivers. Man is but a small thing in a great country, and those who live by + Nile, or Guadalquivir, or Volga seem to hold their lives on condition. + They exist from day to day by the tolerance of their river. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz and Paul paused for a moment on the wooden floating bridge and + looked at the great river. All who cross that bridge, or the railway + bridge higher up the stream, must do the same. They pause and draw a deep + breath, as if in the presence of something supernatural. + </p> + <p> + They rode on without speaking through the squalid town—the whilom + rival and the victim of brilliant Moscow. They rode straight to the + station, where they dined in, by the way, one of the best railway + refreshment rooms in the world. At one o’clock the night express + from Moscow to St. Petersburg, with its huge American locomotive, rumbled + into the station. Paul secured a chair in the long saloon car, and then + returned to the platform. The train waited twenty minutes for + refreshments, and he still had much to say to Steinmetz; for one of these + men owned a principality and the other governed it. They walked up and + down the long platform, smoking endless cigarettes, talking gravely. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz stood on the platform and watched the train pass slowly away + into the night. Then he went toward a lamp, and taking a + pocket-handkerchief from his pocket, examined each corner of it in + succession. It was a small pocket-handkerchief of fine cambric. In one + corner were the initials S.S.B., worked neatly in white—such + embroidery as is done in St. Petersburg. + </p> + <p> + “Ach!” exclaimed Steinmetz shortly; “something told me + that that was he.” + </p> + <p> + He turned the little piece of cambric over and over, examining it slowly, + with a heavy Germanic cunning. He had taken this handkerchief from the + body of the nameless rider who was now lying alone on the steppe twelve + miles away. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz returned to the large refreshment room, and ordered the waiter + to bring him a glass of Benedictine, which he drank slowly and + thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + Then he went toward the large black stove which stands in the railway + restaurant at Tver. He opened the door with the point of his boot. The + wood was roaring and crackling within. He threw the handkerchief in and + closed the door. + </p> + <p> + “It is as well, mon prince,” he muttered, “that I found + this, and not you.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III — DIPLOMATIC + </h2> + <p> + “All that there is of the most brilliant and least truthful in + Europe,” M. Claude de Chauxville had said to a lady earlier in the + evening, apropos of the great gathering at the French Embassy, and the mot + had gone the round of the room. + </p> + <p> + In society a little mot will go a long way. M. le Baron de Chauxville was, + moreover, a manufacturer of mots. By calling he was attachi to the French + Embassy in London; by profession he was an epigrammatist. That is to say, + he was a sort of social revolver. He went off if one touched him + conversationally, and like others among us, he frequently missed fire. + </p> + <p> + Of course, he had but little real respect for the truth. If one wishes to + be epigrammatic, one must relinquish the hope of being either agreeable or + veracious. M. de Chauxville did not really intend to convey the idea that + any of the persons assembled in the great guest chambers of the French + Embassy that evening were anything but what they seemed. + </p> + <p> + He could not surely imagine that Lady Mealhead—the beautiful spouse + of the seventh Earl Mealhead—was anything but what she seemed: + namely, a great lady. Of course, M. de Chauxville knew that Lady Mealhead + had once been the darling of the music-halls, and that a thousand hearts + had vociferously gone out to her from sixpenny and even threepenny + galleries when she answered to the name of Tiny Smalltoes. But then M. de + Chauxville knew as well as you and I—Lady Mealhead no doubt had told + him—that she was the daughter of a clergyman, and had chosen the + stage in preference to the school-room as a means of supporting her aged + mother. Whether M. de Chauxville believed this or not, it is not for us to + enquire. He certainly looked as if he believed it when Lady Mealhead told + him—and his expressive Gallic eyes waxed tender at the mention of + her mother, the relict of the late clergyman, whose name had somehow been + overlooked by Crockford. A Frenchman loves his mother—in the + abstract. + </p> + <p> + Nor could M. de Chauxville take exception at young Cyril Squyrt, the poet. + Cyril looked like a poet. He wore his hair over his collar at the back, + and below the collar-bone in front. And, moreover, he was a poet—one + of those who write for ages yet unborn. Besides, his poems could be bought + (of the publisher only; the railway bookstall men did not understand them) + beautifully bound; really beautifully bound in white kid, with green + ribbon—a very thin volume and very thin poetry. Meddlesome persons + have been known to state that Cyril Squyrt’s father kept a + prosperous hot-sausage-and-mashed-potato shop in Leeds. But one must not + always believe all that one hears. + </p> + <p> + It appears that beneath the turf, or on it, all men are equal, so no one + could object to the presence of Billy Bale, the man, by Gad! who could + give you the straight tip on any race, and looked like it. We all know + Bale’s livery stable, the same being Billy’s father; but no + matter. Billy wears the best cut riding-breeches in the Park, and, let me + tell you, there are many folk in society with a smaller recommendation + than that. + </p> + <p> + Now, it is not our business to go round the rooms of the French Embassy + picking holes in the earthly robes of society’s elect. Suffice it to + say that every one was there. Miss Kate Whyte, of course, who had made a + place in society and held it by the indecency of her language. Lady + Mealhead said she couldn’t stand Kitty Whyte at any price. We are + sorry to use such a word as indecency in connection with a young person of + the gentler sex, but facts must sometimes be recognized. And it is a bare + fact that society tolerated, nay, encouraged, Kitty Whyte, because society + never knew, and always wanted to know, what she would say next. She sailed + so near to the unsteady breeze of decorum that the safer-going craft hung + breathlessly in her wake in the hope of an upset. + </p> + <p> + Every one, in fact, was there. All those who have had greatness thrust + upon them, and the others, those who thrust themselves upon the great—those, + in a word, who reach such as are above them by doing that which should be + beneath them. Lord Mealhead, by the way, was not there. He never is + anywhere where the respectable writer and his high-born reader are to be + found. It is discreet not to enquire where Lord Mealhead is, especially of + Lady Mealhead, who has severed more completely her connection with the + past. His lordship is, perchance, of a sentimental humor, and loves to + wander in those pasteboard groves where first he met his Tiny—and + very natural, too. + </p> + <p> + There was music and the refreshments. It was, in fact, a reception. Gaul’s + most lively sons bowed before Albion’s fairest daughters, and + displayed that fund of verve and esprit which they rightly pride + themselves upon possessing, and which, of course, leave mere Englishmen so + far behind in the paths of love and chivalry. + </p> + <p> + When not thus actively engaged they whispered together in corners and + nudged each other, exchanging muttered comments, in which the word + charmante came conveniently to the fore. Thus, the lightsome son of + republican Gaul in society. + </p> + <p> + It is, however, high time to explain the reason of our own presence—of + our own reception by France’s courteous representative. We are here + to meet Mrs. Sydney Bamborough, and, moreover, to confine our attention to + the persons more or less implicated in the present history. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sydney Bamborough was undoubtedly the belle of the evening. She had + only to look in one of the many mirrors to make sure of that fact. And if + she wanted further assurance a hundred men in the room would have been + ready to swear to it. This lady had recently dawned on London society—a + young widow. She rarely mentioned her husband; it was understood to be a + painful subject. He had been attached to several embassies, she said; he + had a brilliant career before him, and suddenly he had died abroad. And + then she gave a little sigh and a bright smile, which, being interpreted, + meant “Let us change the subject.” + </p> + <p> + There was never any doubt about Mrs. Sydney Bamborough. She was + aristocratic to the tips of her dainty white fingers—composed, + gentle, and quite sure of herself. Quite the grand lady, as Lady Mealhead + said. But Mrs. Sydney Bamborough did not know Lady Mealhead, which may + have accounted for the titled woman’s little sniff of interrogation. + As a matter of fact, Etta Sydney Bamborough came from excellent ancestry, + and could claim an uncle here, a cousin there, and a number of distant + relatives everywhere, should it be worth the while. + </p> + <p> + It was safe to presume that she was rich from the manner in which she + dressed, the number of servants and horses she kept, the general air of + wealth which pervaded her existence. That she was beautiful any one could + see for himself—not in the shop-windows, among the presumably + self-selected types of English beauty, but in the proper place—namely, + in her own and other aristocratic drawing-rooms. + </p> + <p> + She was talking to a tall, fair Frenchman—in perfect French—and + was herself nearly as tall as he. Bright brown hair waved prettily back + from a white forehead, clever, dark gray eyes and a lovely complexion—one + of those complexions which, from a purity of conscience or a steadiness of + nerve, never change. Cheeks of a faint pink, an expressive, mobile mouth, + a neck of dazzling white. Such was Mrs. Sydney Bamborough, in the prime of + her youth. + </p> + <p> + “And you maintain that it is five years since we met,” she was + saying to the tall Frenchman. + </p> + <p> + “Have I not counted every day?” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know,” she answered, with a little laugh, that + little laugh which tells wise men where flattery may be shot like so much + conversational rubbish. Some women are fathomless pits, the rubbish never + seems to fill them. “I do not know, but I should not think so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, madam, it is so. Witness these gray hairs. Ah! those were + happy days in St. Petersburg.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sydney Bamborough smiled—a pleasant society smile, not too + pronounced and just sufficient to suggest pearly teeth. At the mention of + St. Petersburg she glanced round to see that they were not overheard. She + gave a little shiver. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t speak of Russia!” she pleaded. “I hate to + hear it mentioned. I was so happy. It is painful to remember.” + </p> + <p> + Even while she spoke the expression of her face changed to one of gay + delight. She nodded and smiled toward a tall man who was evidently looking + for her, and took no notice of the Frenchman’s apologies. + </p> + <p> + “Who <i>is</i> that?” asked the young man. “I see him + everywhere lately.” + </p> + <p> + “A mere English gentleman, Mr. Paul Howard Alexis,” replied + the lady. + </p> + <p> + The Frenchman raised his eyebrows. He knew better. This was no plain + English gentleman. He bowed and took his leave. M. de Chauxville of the + French Embassy was watching every movement, every change of expression, + from across the room. + </p> + <p> + In evening dress the man whom we last saw on the platform of the railway + station at Tver did not look so unmistakably English. It was more evident + that he had inherited certain characteristics from his Russian mother—notably, + his great height, a physical advantage enjoyed by many aristocratic + Russian families. His hair was fair and inclined to curl, and there the + foreign suggestion suddenly ceased. His face had the quiet concentration, + the unobtrusive self-absorption which one sees more strongly marked in + English faces than in any others. His manner of moving through the + well-dressed crowd somewhat belied the tan of his skin. Here was an + out-of-door, athletic youth, who knew how to move in drawing-rooms—a + big man who did not look much too large for his surroundings. It was + evident that he did not know many people, and also that he was indifferent + to his loss. He had come to see Mrs. Sydney Bamborough, and that lady was + not insensible to the fact. + </p> + <p> + To prove this she diverged from the path of veracity, as is the way of + some women. + </p> + <p> + “I did not expect to see you here,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “You told me you were coming,” he answered simply. The + inference would have been enough for some women, but not for Etta Sydney + Bamborough. + </p> + <p> + “Well, is that a reason why you should attend a diplomatic soirie, + and force yourself to bow and smirk to a number of white-handed little + dandies whom you despise?” + </p> + <p> + “The best reason,” he answered quietly, with an honesty which + somehow touched her as nothing else had touched this beautiful woman since + she had become aware of her beauty. + </p> + <p> + “Then you think it worth the bowing and the smirking?” she + asked, looking past him with innocent eyes. She made an imperceptible + little movement toward him as if she expected him to whisper. She was of + that school. But he was not. His was not the sort of mind to conceive any + thought that required whispering. Some persons in fact went so far as to + say that he was hopelessly dull, that he had no subtlety of thought, no + brightness, no conversation. These persons were no doubt ladies upon whom + he had failed to lavish the exceedingly small change of compliment. + </p> + <p> + “It is worth that and more,” he replied, with his ready smile. + “After all, bowing and smirking come very easily. One soon gets + accustomed to it.” + </p> + <p> + “One has to,” she replied with a little sigh. “Especially + if one is a woman, which little mishap comes to some of us, you know. I + wonder if you could find me a chair.” + </p> + <p> + She was standing with her back to a small sofa capable of holding three, + but calculated to accommodate two. She did not of course see it. In fact + she looked everywhere but toward it, raising her perfectly gloved fingers + tentatively for his arm. + </p> + <p> + “I am tired of standing,” she added. + </p> + <p> + He turned and indicated the sofa, toward which she immediately advanced. + As she sat down he noted vaguely that she was exquisitely dressed, + certainly one of the best dressed women in the room. Her costume was + daring without being startling, being merely black and white largely, + boldly contrasted. He felt indefinitely proud of the dress. Some instinct + in the man’s simple, strong mind told him that it was good for women + to be beautiful, but his ignorance of the sex being profound he had no + desire to analyze the beauty. He had no mental reservation with regard to + her. Indeed it would have been hard to find fault with Etta Sydney + Bamborough, looking upon her merely as a beautiful woman, exquisitely + dressed. In a cynical age this man was without cynicism. He did not dream + of reflecting that the lovely hair owed half its beauty to the clever + handling of a maid, that the perfect dress had been the all-absorbing + topic of many of its wearer’s leisure hours. He was, in fact, young + for his years, and what is youth but a happy ignorance? It is only when we + know too much that Gravity marks us for her own. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sydney Bamborough looked up at him with a certain admiration. This + man was like a mountain breeze to one who has breathed nothing but the + faded air of drawing-rooms. + </p> + <p> + She drew in her train with a pretty curve of her gloved wrist. + </p> + <p> + “You look as if you did not know what it was to be tired; but + perhaps you will sit down. I can make room.” + </p> + <p> + He accepted with alacrity. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” she said, “let me hear where you have been. I + have only had time to shake hands with you the last twice that we have + met! You said you had been away.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I have been to Russia.” + </p> + <p> + Her face was steadily beautiful, composed and ready. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! How interesting! I have been in Petersburg. I love Russia.” + While she spoke she was actually looking across the room toward the tall + Frenchman, her late companion. + </p> + <p> + “Do you?” answered Paul eagerly. His face lighted up after the + manner of those countenances that belong to men of one idea. “I am + very much interested in Russia.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know Petersburg?” she asked rather hurriedly. “I + mean—society there?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I know one or two people in Moscow.” + </p> + <p> + She nodded, suppressing a quick little sigh which might have been one of + relief had her face been less pleasant and smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Who?” she asked indifferently. She was interested in the lace + of her pocket-handkerchief, of which the scent faintly reached him. He was + a simple person, and the faint odor gave him a distinct pleasure—a + suggested intimacy. + </p> + <p> + He mentioned several well-known Muscovite names, and she broke into a + sudden laugh. + </p> + <p> + “How terrible they sound,” she said gayly, “even to me, + and I have been to Petersburg. But you speak Russian, Mr. Alexis?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered. “And you?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head and gave a little sigh. + </p> + <p> + “I? Oh, no. I am not at all clever, I am afraid.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV — DON QUIXOTE + </h2> + <p> + Paul had been five months in England when he met Mrs. Sydney Bamborough. + Since his hurried departure from Tver a winter had come and gone, leaving + its mark as winters do. It left a very distinct mark on Russia. It was a + famine winter. From the snow-ridden plains that lie to the north of + Moscow, Karl Steinmetz had written piteous descriptions of an existence + which seemed hardly worth the living. But each letter had terminated with + a prayer, remarkably near to a command, that he, Paul Howard Alexis, + should remain in England. So Paul stayed in London, where he indulged to + the full a sadly mistaken hobby. This man had, as we have seen, that which + is called a crank, or a loose screw, according to the fancy of the + speaker. He had conceived the absurd idea of benefiting his fellow-beings, + and of turning into that mistaken channel the surplus wealth that was his. + This, moreover, if it please you, without so much as forming himself into + a society. + </p> + <p> + This is an age of societies, and, far from concealing from the left hand + the good which the right may be doing, we publish abroad our charities on + all hands. We publish in a stout volume our names and donations. We even + go so far as to cultivate an artificial charity by meat and drink and + speeches withal. When we have eaten and drunk, the plate is handed round, + and from the fulness of our heart we give abundantly. We are cunning even + in our well-doing. We do not pass round the plate until the decanters have + led the way. And thus we degrade that quality of the human heart which is + the best of all. + </p> + <p> + But Paul Howard Alexis had the good fortune to be rich out of England, and + that roaring lion of modern days, organized charity, passed him by. He was + thus left to evolve from his own mind a mistaken sense of his duty toward + his neighbor. That there were thousands of well-meaning persons in black + and other coats ready to prove to him that revenues gathered from Russia + should be spent in the East End or the East Indies, goes without saying. + There are always well-meaning persons among us ready to direct the charity + of others. We have all met those virtuous persons who do good by proxy. + But Paul had not. He had never come face to face with the charity broker—the + man who stands between the needy and the giver, giving nothing himself, + and living on his brokerage, sitting in a comfortable chair, with his feet + on a Turkey carpet in his office on a main thoroughfare. Paul had met none + of these, and the only organized charity of which he was cognizant was the + great Russian Charity League, betrayed six months earlier to a government + which has ever turned its face against education and enlightenment. In + this he had taken no active part, but he had given largely of his great + wealth. That his name had figured on the list of families sold for a vast + sum of money to the authorities of the Ministry of the Interior seemed all + too sure. But he had had no intimation that he was looked upon with small + favor. The more active members of the League had been less fortunate, and + more than one nobleman had been banished to his estates. + </p> + <p> + Although the sum actually paid for the papers of the Charity League was + known, the recipient of the blood money had never been discovered. It was + a large sum, for the government had been quick to recognize the necessity + of nipping this movement in the bud. Education is a dangerous matter to + deal with; England is beginning to find this out for herself. For on the + heels of education socialism ever treads. When at last education makes a + foothold in Russia, that foothold will be on the very step of the + autocratic throne. The Charity League had, as Steinmetz put it, the + primary object of preparing the peasant for education, and thereafter + placing education within his reach. Such proceedings were naturally held + by those in high places to be only second to Nihilism. + </p> + <p> + All this, and more which shall transpire in the course of this narration, + was known to Paul. In face of the fact that his name was prominently + before the Russian Ministry of the Interior, he proceeded all through the + winter to ship road-making tools, agricultural implements, seeds, and + food. + </p> + <p> + “The prince,” said Steinmetz to those who were interested in + the matter, “is mad. He thinks that a Russian principality is to be + worked on the same system as an English estate.” + </p> + <p> + He would laugh and shrug his shoulders, and then he would sit down and + send a list of further requirements to Paul Howard Alexis, Esquire, in + London. + </p> + <p> + Paul had met Mrs. Sydney Bamborough on one or two occasions, and had been + interested in her. From the first he had come under the influence of her + beauty. But she was then a married woman. He met her again toward the end + of the terrible winter to which reference has been made, and found that a + mere acquaintanceship had in the meantime developed into friendship. He + could not have told when and where the great social barrier had been + surmounted and left behind. He only knew in an indefinite way that some + such change had taken place, as all such changes do, not in intercourse, + but in the intervals of absence. It is a singular fact that we do not make + our friends when they are near. The seed of friendship and love alike is + soon sown, and the best is that which germinates in absence. + </p> + <p> + That friendship had rapidly developed into something else Paul became + aware early in the season; and, as we have seen from his conversation, + Mrs. Sydney Bamborough, innocent and guileless as she was, might with all + modesty have divined the state of his feelings had she been less + overshadowed by her widow’s weeds. + </p> + <p> + She apparently had no such suspicion, for she asked Paul in all good faith + to call the next day and tell her all about Russia—“dear + Russia.” + </p> + <p> + “My cousin Maggie,” she added, “is staying with me. She + is a dear girl. I am sure you will like her.” + </p> + <p> + Paul accepted with alacrity, but reserved to himself the option of hating + Mrs. Sydney Bamborough’s cousin Maggie, merely because that young + lady existed and happened to be staying in Upper Brook Street. + </p> + <p> + At five o’clock the next afternoon he presented himself at the house + of mourning, and completely filled up its small entrance-hall. + </p> + <p> + He was shown into the drawing-room, where he discovered Miss Margaret + Delafield in the act of dragging her hat off in front of the mirror over + the mantelpiece. He heard a suppressed exclamation of amused horror, and + found himself shaking hands with Mrs. Sydney Bamborough. + </p> + <p> + The lady mentioned Paul’s name and her cousin’s relationship + in that casual manner which constitutes an introduction in these + degenerate days. Miss Delafield bowed, laughed, and moved toward the door. + She left the room, and behind her an impression of breeziness and health, + of English girlhood and a certain bright cheerfulness which acts as a + filter in social muddy waters. + </p> + <p> + “It is very good of you to come—I was moping,” said Mrs. + Sydney Bamborough. She was, as a matter of fact, resting before the work + of the evening. This lady thoroughly understood the art of being + beautiful. + </p> + <p> + Paul did not answer at once. He was looking at a large photograph which + stood in a frame on the mantelpiece—the photograph of a handsome man + of twenty-eight or thirty, small-featured, fair, and shifty looking. + </p> + <p> + “Who is that?” he asked abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Do you not know? My husband.” + </p> + <p> + Paul muttered an apology, but he did not turn away from the photograph. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, never mind,” said Mrs. Sydney Bamborough, in reply to his + regret that he had stumbled upon a painful subject. “I never—” + </p> + <p> + She paused. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she went on, “I won’t say that.” + </p> + <p> + But, so far as conveying what she meant was concerned, she might just as + well have uttered the words. + </p> + <p> + “I do not want a sympathy which is unmerited,” she said + gravely. + </p> + <p> + He turned and looked at her, sitting in a graceful attitude, the + incarnation of a most refined and nineteenth-century misfortune. She + raised her eyes to his for a moment—a sort of photographic + instantaneous shutter, exposing for the hundredth part of a second the + sensitive plate of her heart. Then she suppressed a sigh—badly. + </p> + <p> + “I was married horribly young,” she said, “before I knew + what I was doing. But even if I had known I do not suppose I should have + had the strength of mind to resist my father and mother.” + </p> + <p> + “They forced you into it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mrs. Bamborough. And it is possible that a + respectable and harmless pair of corpses turned in their respective + coffins somewhere in the neighborhood of Norwood. + </p> + <p> + “I hope there is a special hell reserved for parents who ruin their + daughters’ lives to suit their own ambition,” said Paul, with + a sudden concentrated heat which rather startled his hearer. + </p> + <p> + This man was full of surprises for Etta Sydney Bamborough. It was like + playing with fire—a form of amusement which will be popular as long + as feminine curiosity shall last. + </p> + <p> + “You are rather shocking,” she said lightly. “But it is + all over now, so we need not dig up old grievances. Only I want you to + understand that that photograph represents a part of my life which was + only painful—nothing else.” + </p> + <p> + Paul, standing in front of her, looked down thoughtfully at the beautiful + upturned face. His hands were clasped behind him, his firm mouth set + sternly beneath the great fair mustache. In Russia the men have good eyes—blue, + fierce, intelligent. Such eyes had the son of the Princess Alexis. There + was something in Etta Bamborough that stirred up within him a quality + which men are slowly losing—namely, chivalry. Steinmetz held that + this man was quixotic, and what Steinmetz said was usually worth some + small attention. Whatever faults that poor knight of La Mancha who has + been the laughing-stock of the world these many centuries—whatever + faults or foolishness may have been his, he was at all events a gentleman. + </p> + <p> + Paul’s instinct was to pity this woman for the past that had been + hers; his desire was to help her and protect her, to watch over her and + fight her battles for her. It was what is called Love. But there is no + word in any spoken language that covers so wide a field. Every day and all + day we call many things love which are not love. The real thing is as rare + as genius, but we usually fail to recognize its rarity. We misuse the + word, for we fail to draw the necessary distinctions. We fail to recognize + the plain and simple truth that many of us are not able to love—just + as there are many who are not able to play the piano or to sing. We raise + up our voices and make a sound, but it is not singing. We marry and we + give in marriage, but it is not loving. Love is like a color—say, + blue. There are a thousand shades of blue, and the outer shades are at + last not blue at all, but green or purple. So in love there are a thousand + shades, and very, very few of them are worthy of the name. + </p> + <p> + That which Paul Howard Alexis felt at this time for Etta was merely the + chivalrous instinct that teaches men their primary duty toward women—namely, + to protect and respect them. But out of this instinct grows the better + thing—Love. + </p> + <p> + There are some women whose desire it is to be all things to all men + instead of every thing to one. This was the stumbling-block in the way of + Etta Bamborough. It was her instinct to please all at any price, and her + obedience to such instinct was often unconscious. She hardly knew perhaps + that she was trading upon a sense of chivalry rare in these days, but had + she known she could not have traded with a keener comprehension of the + commerce. + </p> + <p> + “I should like to forget the past altogether,” she said. + “But it is hard for women to get rid of the past. It is rather + terrible to feel that one will be associated all one’s life with a + person for whom no one had any respect. He was not honorable or—” + </p> + <p> + She paused; for the intuition of some women is marvellous. A slight change + of countenance had told her that charity, especially toward the dead, is a + commendable quality. + </p> + <p> + “The world,” she went on rather hurriedly, “never makes + allowances—does it? He was easily led, I suppose. And people said + things of him that were not true. Did you ever hear of him in Russia—of + the things they said of him?” + </p> + <p> + She waited for the answer with suppressed eagerness—a good woman + defending the memory of her dead husband—a fair lioness protecting + her cub. + </p> + <p> + “No; I never hear Russian gossip. I know no one in St. Petersburg, + and few in Moscow.” + </p> + <p> + She gave a little sigh of relief. + </p> + <p> + “Then perhaps poor Sydney’s delinquencies have been forgotten,” + she said. “In six months every thing is forgotten now. He has only + been dead six months, you know. He died in Russia.” + </p> + <p> + All the while she was watching his face. She had moved in a circle where + everything is known—where men have faces of iron and nerves of steel + to conceal what they know. She could hardly believe that Paul Alexis knew + so little as he pretended. + </p> + <p> + “So I heard a month ago,” he said. + </p> + <p> + In a flash of thought Etta remembered that it was only within the last + four weeks that this admirer had betrayed his admiration. Could this be + that phenomenon of the three-volume novel, an honorable man? She looked at + him with curiosity—without, it is to be feared, much respect. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” she said cheerfully, “let us change the + subject. I have inflicted enough of myself and my affairs upon you for one + day. Tell me about yourself. Why were you in Russia last summer?” + </p> + <p> + “I am half a Russian,” he answered. “My mother was + Russian, and I have estates there.” + </p> + <p> + Her surprise was a triumph of art. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! You are not Prince Pavlo Alexis?” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am.” + </p> + <p> + She rose and swept him a deep courtesy, to the full advantage of her + beautiful figure. + </p> + <p> + “My respects—mon prince,” she said; and then, quick as + lightning, for she had seen displeasure on his face, she broke into a + merry laugh. + </p> + <p> + “No, I won’t call you that; for I know you hate it. I have + heard of your prejudices, and if it is of the slightest interest to you, I + think I rather admire them.” + </p> + <p> + It is to be presumed that Mrs. Sydney Bamborough’s memory was short. + For it was a matter of common knowledge in the diplomatic circles in which + she moved that Mr. Paul Howard Alexis of Piccadilly House, London, and + Prince Pavlo Alexis of the province of Tver, were one and the same man. + </p> + <p> + Having, however, fully established this fact, from the evidence of her own + ears, she conversed very pleasantly and innocently upon matters, Russian + and English, until other visitors arrived and Paul withdrew. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V — THE BARON + </h2> + <p> + Among the visitors whom Paul left behind him in the little drawing-room in + Brook Street was the Baron Claude de Chauxville, Baron of Chauxville and + Chauxville le Duc, in the Province of Seine-et-Marne, France, attachi to + the French Embassy to the Court of St. James; before men a rising + diplomatist, before God a scoundrel. This gentleman remained when the + other visitors had left, and Miss Maggie Delafield, seeing his intention + of prolonging a visit of which she had already had sufficient, made an + inadequate excuse and left the room. + </p> + <p> + Miss Delafield, being a healthy-minded young English person of that + simplicity which is no simplicity at all, but merely simple-heartedness, + had her own ideas of what a man should be, and M. de Chauxville had the + misfortune to fall short of those ideas. He was too epigrammatic for her, + and beneath the brilliancy of his epigram she felt at times the presence + of something dark and nauseous. Her mental attitude toward him was + contemptuous and perfectly polite. With the reputation of possessing a + dangerous fascination—one of those reputations which can only + emanate from the man himself—M. de Chauxville neither fascinated nor + intimidated Miss Delafield. He therefore disliked her intensely. His + vanity was colossal, and when a Frenchman is vain he is childishly so. + </p> + <p> + M. de Chauxville watched the door close behind Miss Delafield with a queer + smile. Then he turned suddenly on his heels and faced Mrs. Sydney + Bamborough. + </p> + <p> + “Your cousin,” he said, “is a typical Englishwoman—she + only conceals her love.” + </p> + <p> + “For you?” enquired Mrs. Sydney Bamborough. + </p> + <p> + The baron shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Possibly. One can never tell. She conceals it very well if it + exists. However, I am indifferent. The virtue of the violet is its own + reward, perhaps, for the rose always wins.” + </p> + <p> + He crossed the room toward Mrs. Sydney Bamborough, who was standing near + the mantelpiece. Her left hand was hanging idly by her side. He took the + white fingers and gallantly raised them to his lips, but before they had + reached that fount of truth and wisdom she jerked her hand away. + </p> + <p> + M. de Chauxville laughed—the quiet, assured laugh of a man who has + read in books that he who is bold enough can win any woman, and believes + it. He was of those men who treat and speak of women as a class—creatures + to be dealt with successfully according to generality and maxim. It is a + singular thing, by the way, that men as a whole continue to disbelieve in + a woman’s negative—singular, that is, when one reflects that + the majority of men have had at least one negative which has remained a + negative, so far as they were concerned, all the woman’s life. + </p> + <p> + “I am aware,” said M. de Chauxville, “that the rose has + thorns. One reason why the violet is hors de concours.” + </p> + <p> + Etta smiled—almost relenting. She was never quite safe against her + own vanity. Happy the woman who is, and rare. + </p> + <p> + “I suspect that the violet is innocent of any desire to enter into + competition,” said Etta. + </p> + <p> + “Knowing,” suggested De Chauxville, “that although the + race is not always to the swift, it is usually so. Please do not stand. It + suggests that you are waiting for me to go or for some one else to come.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither.” + </p> + <p> + “Then prove it by taking this chair. Thus. Near the fire, for it is + quite an English spring. A footstool. Is it permitted to admire your + slippers—what there is of them? Now you look comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + He attended to her wants, divined them, and perhaps created them with a + perfect grace and much too intimate a knowledge. As a carpet knight he was + faultless. And Etta thought of Paul, who could do none of these things—or + would do none of them—Paul, who never made her feel like a doll. + </p> + <p> + “Will you not sit down?” she said, indicating a chair, which + he did not take. He selected one nearer to her. + </p> + <p> + “I can think of nothing more desirable.” + </p> + <p> + “Than what?” she asked. Her vanity was like a hungry fish. It + rose to everything. + </p> + <p> + “A chair in this room.” + </p> + <p> + “A modest desire,” she said. “Is that really all you + want in this world?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he answered, looking at her. + </p> + <p> + She gave a little laugh and moved rather hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + “I was going to suggest that you could have both at certain fixed + periods—whenever—I am out.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad you did not suggest it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” she asked sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Because I should have had to go into explanations. I did not say + all.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bamborough was looking into the fire, only half listening to him. + There was something in the nature of a duel between these two. Each + thought more of the next stroke than of the present party. + </p> + <p> + “Do you ever say all, M. de Chauxville?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + The baron laughed. Perhaps he was vain of the reputation that was his, for + this man was held to be a finished diplomatist. A finished diplomatist, be + it known, is one who is a dangerous foe and an unreliable friend. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps—now that I reflect upon it,” continued the + clever woman, disliking the clever man’s silence, “the person + who said all would be intolerable.” + </p> + <p> + “There are some things which go without it,” said De + Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + “Ah?” looking lazily back at him over her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + He was cautious, for he was fighting on a field which women may rightly + claim for their own. He really loved Etta. He was trying to gauge the + meaning of a little change in her tone toward him—a change so subtle + that few men could have detected it. But Claude de Chauxville —accomplished + steersman through the shoals of human nature, especially through those + very pronounced shoals who call themselves women of the world—Claude + de Chauxville knew the value of the slightest change of manner, should + that change manifest itself more than once. + </p> + <p> + The ring of indifference, or something dangerously near it, in Etta’s + voice had first been noticeable the previous evening, and the attachi knew + it. It had been in her voice whenever she spoke to him then. It was there + now. + </p> + <p> + “Some things,” he continued, in a voice she had never heard + before, for this man was innately artificial, “which a woman usually + knows before they are told to her.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of things, M. le Baron?” + </p> + <p> + He gave a little laugh. It was so strange a thing to him to be sincere + that he felt awkward and abashed. He was surprised at his own sincerity. + </p> + <p> + “That I love you—hum. You have known it long?” + </p> + <p> + The face which he could not see was not quite the face of a good woman. + Etta was smiling. + </p> + <p> + “No—o,” she almost whispered. + </p> + <p> + “I think you must have known it,” he corrected suavely. + “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” + </p> + <p> + It was very correctly done, Claude de Chauxville had regained control over + himself. He was able to think about the riches which were evidently hers. + But through the thought he loved the woman. + </p> + <p> + The lady lowered the feather screen which she was holding between her face + and the fire. Regardless of the imminent danger in which she was placing + her complexion, she studied the glowing cinders for some moments, weighing + something or some persons in her mind. + </p> + <p> + “No, my friend,” she answered in French, at length. + </p> + <p> + The baron’s face was drawn and white. Beneath his trim black + mustache there was a momentary gleam of sharp white teeth as he bit his + lip. + </p> + <p> + He came nearer to her, leaning one hand on the back of her chair, looking + down. He could only see the beautifully dressed hair, the clean-cut + profile. She continued to look into the fire, conscious of the hand close + to her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “No, my friend,” she repeated. “We know each other too + well for that. It would never do.” + </p> + <p> + “But when I tell you that I love you,” he said quietly, with + his voice well in control. + </p> + <p> + “I did not know that the word was in your vocabulary—you, a + diplomat.” + </p> + <p> + “And a man—you put the word there—Etta.” + </p> + <p> + The hand-screen was raised for a moment in objection—presumably to + the Christian name of which he had made use. + </p> + <p> + He waited; passivity was one of his strong points. It had frightened men + before this. + </p> + <p> + Then, with a graceful movement, she swung suddenly round in her chair, + looking up at him. She broke into a merry laugh. + </p> + <p> + “I believe you are actually in earnest!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + He looked quietly down into her face without moving a muscle in response + to her change of humor. + </p> + <p> + “Very clever,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “What?” she asked, still smiling. + </p> + <p> + “The attitude, the voice, every thing. You have known all along that + I am in earnest, you have known it for the last six months. You have seen + me often enough when I was—well, not in earnest, to know the + difference.” + </p> + <p> + Etta rose quickly. It was some lightning-like woman’s instinct that + made her do so. Standing, she was taller than M. de Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + “Do not let us be tragic,” she said coldly. “You have + asked me to marry you; why, I don’t know. The reason will probably + transpire later. I appreciate the honor, but I beg to decline it. Et voil` + tout. All is said.” + </p> + <p> + He spread out apologetic hands. + </p> + <p> + “All is not said,” he corrected, with a dangerous suavity. + “I acknowledge the claim enjoyed by your sex to the last word. In + this matter, however, I am inclined to deny it to the individual.” + </p> + <p> + Etta Sydney Bamborough smiled. She leaned against the mantelpiece, with + her chin resting on her curved fingers. The attitude was eminently + calculated to show to full advantage a faultless figure. She evidently had + no desire to cheapen that which she would deny. She shrugged her shoulders + and waited. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville was vain, but he was clever enough to conceal his vanity. He + was hurt, but he was man enough to hide it. Under the passivity which was + his by nature and practice, he had learned to think very quickly. But now + he was at a disadvantage. He was unnerved by his love for Etta—by + the sight of Etta before him daringly, audaciously beautiful—by the + thought that she might never be his. + </p> + <p> + “It is not only that I love you,” he said, “that I have + a certain position to offer you. These I beg you to take at their poor + value. But there are other circumstances known to both of us which are + more worthy of your attention—circumstances which may dispose you to + reconsider your determination.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing will do that,” she replied; “not any + circumstance.” + </p> + <p> + Etta was speaking to De Chauxville and thinking of Paul Alexis. + </p> + <p> + “I should like to know since when you have discovered that you never + could under any circumstances marry me,” pursued M. de Chauxville. + “Not that it matters, since it is too late. I am not going to allow + you to draw back now. You have gone too far. All this winter you have + allowed me to pay you conspicuous and marked attentions. You have conveyed + to me and to the world at large the impression that I had merely to speak + in order to obtain your hand.” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt,” said Etta, “whether the world at large is so + deeply interested in the matter as you appear to imagine. I am sorry that + I have gone too far, but I reserve to myself the right of retracing my + footsteps wherever and whenever I please. I am sorry I conveyed to you or + to any one else the impression that you had only to speak in order to + obtain my hand, and I can only conclude that your overweening vanity has + led you into a mistake which I will be generous enough to hold my tongue + about.” + </p> + <p> + The diplomatist was for a moment taken aback. + </p> + <p> + “Mais—” he exclaimed, with indignant arms outspread; and + even in his own language he could find nothing to add to the expressive + monosyllable. + </p> + <p> + “I think you had better go,” said Etta quietly. She went + toward the fire-place and rang the bell. + </p> + <p> + M. de Chauxville took up his hat and gloves. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” he said coldly, his voice shaking with suppressed + rage, “there is some reason for this. There is, I presume, some one + else—some one has been interfering. No one interferes with me with + impunity. I shall make it my business to find out who is this—” + </p> + <p> + He did not finish: for the door was thrown open by the butler, who + announced: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Alexis.” + </p> + <p> + Paul came into the room with a bow toward De Chauxville, who was going + out, and whom he knew slightly. + </p> + <p> + “I came back,” he said, “to ask what evening next week + you are free. I have a box for the ‘Huguenots.’” + </p> + <p> + Paul did not stay. The thing was arranged in a few moments, and as he left + the drawing-room he heard the wheels of De Chauxville’s carriage. + </p> + <p> + Etta stood for a moment when the door had closed behind the two men, + looking at the portihre which had hidden them from sight, as if following + them in thought. Then she gave a little laugh—a queer laugh that + might have had no heart in it, or too much for the ordinary purposes of + life. She shrugged her shoulders and took up a magazine, with which she + returned to the chair placed for her before the fire by Claude de + Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes Maggie came into the room. She was carrying a bundle of + flannel. + </p> + <p> + “The weakest thing I ever did,” she said cheerfully, “was + to join Lady Crewel’s working guild. Two flannel petticoats for the + young by Thursday morning. I chose the young because the petticoats are so + ludicrously small.” + </p> + <p> + “If you never do anything weaker than that,” said Etta, + looking into the fire, “you will not come to much harm.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not; what have you been doing—something weaker?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I have been quarrelling with M. de Chauxville.” + </p> + <p> + Maggie held up a petticoat by the selvage (which a male writer takes to be + the lower hem), and looked at her cousin through the orifice intended for + the waist of the young. + </p> + <p> + “If one could manage it without lowering one’s dignity,” + she said, “I think that that is the best thing one could possibly do + with M. de Chauxville.” + </p> + <p> + Etta had taken up the magazine again. She was pretending to read it. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but he knows too much—about every-body,” she said. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI — THE TALLEYRAND CLUB + </h2> + <p> + It has been said of the Talleyrand Club that the only qualifications + required for admittance to its membership are a frock-coat and a glib + tongue. To explain the whereabouts of the Talleyrand Club were only a work + of supererogation. Many hansom cabmen know it. Hansom cabmen know more + than they are credited with. + </p> + <p> + The Talleyrand, as its name implies, is a diplomatic club, but ambassadors + and ministers enter not its portals. They send their juniors. Some of + these latter are in the habit of stating that London is the hub of Europe + and the Talleyrand smoking-room its grease-box. Certain is it that such + men as Claude de Chauxville, as Karl Steinmetz, and a hundred others who + are or have been political scene-shifters, are to be found in the + Talleyrand rooms. + </p> + <p> + It is a quiet club, with many members and sparse accommodation. Its rooms + are never crowded, because half of its members are afraid of meeting the + other half. It has swinging glass doors to its every apartment, the lower + portion of the glass being opaque, while the upper moiety affords a + peep-hole. Thus, if you are sitting in one of the deep, comfortable chairs + to be found in all these small rooms, you will be aware from time to time + of eyes and a bald head above the ground glass. If you are nobody, eyes + and bald head will prove to be the property of a gentleman who does not + know you, or knows you and pretends that he does not. If you are somebody, + your solitude will depend upon your reputation. + </p> + <p> + There are quite a number of bald heads in the Talleyrand Club—bald + heads surmounting youthful, innocent faces. The innocence of these + gentlemen is quite remarkable. Like a certain celestial, they are “childlike + and bland”; they ask guileless questions; they make blameless + mistakes in respect to facts, and require correction, which they receive + meekly. They know absolutely nothing, and their thirst for information is + as insatiable as it is unobtrusive. + </p> + <p> + The atmosphere is vivacious with the light sound of many foreign tongues; + it bristles with the ephemeral importance of cheap titles. One never knows + whether one’s neighbor is an ornament to the Almanac de Gotha, or a + disgrace to a degenerate colony of refugees. + </p> + <p> + Some are plain Messieurs, Seqores, or Herren. Bluff foreigners with + upright hair and melancholy eyes, who put up philosophically with a + cheaper brand of cigar than their souls love. Among the latter may be + classed Karl Steinmetz—the bluffest of the bluff—innocent even + of his own innocence. + </p> + <p> + Karl Steinmetz in due course reached England, and in natural sequence the + smoking-room—room B on the left as you go in—of the + Talleyrand. + </p> + <p> + He was there one evening after an excellent dinner taken with humorous + resignation, smoking the largest cigar the waiter could supply, when + Claude de Chauxville happened to have nothing better or nothing worse to + do. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville looked through the glass door for some seconds. Then he + twisted his waxed mustache and lounged in. Steinmetz was alone in the + room, and De Chauxville was evidently—almost obviously—unaware + of his presence. He went to the table and proceeded to search in vain for + a newspaper that interested him. He raised his eyes casually and met the + quiet gaze of Karl Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + “You—in London?” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz nodded gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “One never knows where one has you,” Claude de Chauxville went + on, seating himself in a deep arm-chair, newspaper in hand. “You are + a bird of passage.” + </p> + <p> + “A little heavy on the wing—now,” said Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + He laid his newspaper down on his stout knees and looked at De Chauxville + over his gold eye-glasses. He did not attempt to conceal the fact that he + was wondering what this man wanted with him. The baron seemed to be + wondering what object Steinmetz had in view in getting stout. He suspected + some motive in the obesity. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he said deprecatingly. “That is nothing. Time + leaves its mark upon all of us. It was not yesterday that we were in + Petersburg together.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Steinmetz. “It was before the German + Empire—many years ago.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville counted back with his slim fingers on the table—delightfully + innocent. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “the years seem to fly in coveys. Do you + ever see any of our friends of that time—you who are in Russia?” + </p> + <p> + “Who were our friends of that time?” parried Steinmetz, + polishing his glasses with a silk handkerchief. “My memory is a + broken reed—you remember?” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Claude de Chauxville met the full, quiet, gray eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said significantly, “I remember. Well—for + instance, Prince Dawoff?” + </p> + <p> + “Dead. I never see him—thank Heaven!” + </p> + <p> + “The princess?” + </p> + <p> + “I never see; she keeps a gambling house in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “And little Andrea?” + </p> + <p> + “Never sees me. Married to a wholesale undertaker, who has buried + her past.” + </p> + <p> + “En gros?” + </p> + <p> + “Et en ditail.” + </p> + <p> + “The Count Lanovitch,” pursued De Chauxville, “where is + he?” + </p> + <p> + “Banished for his connection with the Charity League.” + </p> + <p> + “Catrina?” + </p> + <p> + “Catrina is living in the province of Tver—we are neighbors—she + and her mother, the countess.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville nodded. None of the details really interested him. His + indifference was obvious. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! the Countess Lanovitch,” he said reflectively, “she + was a foolish woman.” + </p> + <p> + “And is.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Chauxville laughed. This clumsy German ex-diplomat amused him + immensely. Many people amuse us who are themselves amused in their sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “And—er—the Sydney Bamboroughs,” said the + Frenchman, as if the name had almost left his memory. + </p> + <p> + Karl Steinmetz lazily stretched out his arm and took up the <i>Morning + Post</i>. He unfolded the sheet slowly, and having found what he sought, + he read aloud: + </p> + <p> + “‘His Excellency the Roumanian Ambassador gave a select + dinner-party at 4 Craven Gardens, yesterday. Among the guests were the + Baron de Chauxville, Feneer Pasha, Lord and Lady Standover, Mrs. Sydney + Bamborough, and others.’” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz threw the paper down and leant back in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “So, my dear friend,” he said, “it is probable that you + know more about the Sydney Bamboroughs than I do.” + </p> + <p> + If Claude de Chauxville was disconcerted he certainly did not show it. His + was a face eminently calculated to conceal whatever thought or feeling + might be passing through his mind. Of an even white complexion—verging + on pastiness—he was handsome in a certain statuesque way. His + features were always composed and dignified; his hair, thin and straight, + was never out of order, but ever smooth and sleek upon his high, narrow + brow. His eyes had that dulness which is characteristic of many Frenchmen, + and may perhaps be attributed to the habitual enjoyment of too rich a + cuisine and too many cigarettes. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville waved aside the small contretemps with easy nonchalance. + </p> + <p> + “Not necessarily,” he said, in cold, even tones. “Mrs. + Sydney Bamborough does not habitually take into her confidence all who + happen to dine at the same table as herself. Your confidential woman is + usually a liar.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz was filling his pipe; this man had the evil habit of smoking a + wooden pipe after a cigar. + </p> + <p> + “My very dear De Chauxville,” he said, without lookup, “your + epigrams are lost on me. I know most of them. I have heard them before. If + you have anything to tell me about Mrs. Sydney Bamborough, for Heaven’s + sake tell it to me quite plainly. I like plain dishes and unvarnished + stories. I am a German, you know; that is to say, a person with a dull + palate and a thick head.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville laughed again in an unemotional way. + </p> + <p> + “You alter little,” he said. “Your plainness of speech + takes me back to Petersburg. Yes, I admit that Mrs. Sydney Bamborough + rather interested me. But I assume too much; that is no reason why she + should interest you.” + </p> + <p> + “She does not, my good friend, but you do. I am all attention.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know anything of her?” asked De Chauxville + perfunctorily, not as a man who expects an answer or intends to believe + that which he may be about to hear. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “You are likely to know more?” + </p> + <p> + Karl Steinmetz shrugged his heavy shoulders, and shook his head + doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “I am not a lady’s man,” he added gruffly; “the + good God has not shaped me that way. I am too d—d fat. Has Mrs. + Sydney Bamborough fallen in love with me? Has some imprudent person shown + her my photograph? I hope not. Heaven forbid!” + </p> + <p> + He puffed steadily at his pipe, and glanced quickly at De Chauxville + through the smoke. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered the Frenchman quite gravely. Frenchmen, by the + way, do not admit that one may be too middle-aged, or too stout, for love. + “But she is au mieux with the prince.” + </p> + <p> + “Which prince?” + </p> + <p> + “Pavlo.” + </p> + <p> + The Frenchman snapped out the word, watching the other’s benevolent + countenance. Steinmetz continued to smoke placidly and contentedly. + </p> + <p> + “My master,” he said at length. “I suppose that some day + he will marry.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville shrugged his shoulders. He touched the button of the + electric bell, and when the servant appeared, ordered coffee. He selected + a cigarette from a silver case with considerable care, and having lighted + it smoked for some moments in silence. The servant brought the coffee, + which he drank thoughtfully. Steinmetz was leaning back in his deep chair, + with his legs crossed. He was gazing into the fire, which burnt brightly, + although it was nearly May. The habits of the Talleyrand Club are almost + continental. The rooms are always too warm. The silence was that of two + men knowing each other well. + </p> + <p> + “And why not Mrs. Sydney Bamborough?” asked Steinmetz + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Why not, indeed?” replied De Chauxville. “It is no + affair of mine. A wise man reduces his affairs to a minimum, and his + interest in the affairs of his neighbor to less. But I thought it would + interest you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks.” + </p> + <p> + The tone of the big man in the arm-chair was not dry. Karl Steinmetz knew + better than to indulge in that pastime. Dryness is apt to parch the fount + of expansiveness. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville’s attention was apparently caught by an illustration + in a weekly paper lying open on the table near to him. Your shifty man + likes something to look at. He did not speak for some moments. Then he + threw the paper aside. + </p> + <p> + “Who was Sydney Bamborough, at any rate?” he asked, with a + careless assumption of a slanginess which is affected by society in its + decadent periods. + </p> + <p> + “So far as I remember,” answered Steinmetz, “he was + something in the Diplomatic Service.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but what?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear friend, you had better ask his widow when next you sit + beside her at dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that I sat beside her at dinner?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not know it,” replied Steinmetz, with a quiet smile + which left De Chauxville in doubt as to whether he was very stupid or + exceedingly clever. + </p> + <p> + “She seems to be very well off,” said the Frenchman. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad, as she is going to marry my master.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville laughed almost awkwardly, and for a fraction of a second he + changed countenance under Steinmetz’s quiet eyes. + </p> + <p> + “One can never know whom a woman intends to marry,” said he + carelessly, “even if they can themselves, which I doubt. But I do + not understand how it is that she is so much better off, or appears to be, + since the death of her husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, she is much better off, or appears to be, since the death of + her husband,” said the stout man, in his slow Germanic way. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville rose, stretched himself and yawned. Men are not always, be + it understood, on their best behavior at their club. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night,” he said shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, my very dear friend.” + </p> + <p> + After the Frenchman had left, Karl Steinmetz remained quite motionless and + expressionless in his chair, until such time as he concluded that De + Chauxville was tired of watching him through the glass door. Then he + slowly sat forward in his chair and looked back over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Our friend,” he muttered, “is afraid that Paul is going + to marry this woman. Now, I wonder why?” + </p> + <p> + These two had met before in a past which has little or nothing to do with + the present narrative. They had disliked each other with a completeness + partly bred of racial hatred, partly the outcome of diverse interests. But + of late years they had drifted apart. There was no reason why the + friendship, such as it was, should not have lapsed into a mere bowing + acquaintance. For these men were foreigners, understanding fully the value + of the bow as an interchange of masculine courtesy. Englishmen bow badly. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz knew that the Frenchman had recognized him before entering the + room. It was to be presumed that he had deliberately chosen to cross the + threshold, knowing that a recognition was inevitable. Karl Steinmetz went + farther. He suspected that De Chauxville had come to the Talleyrand Club, + having heard that he was in England, with the purpose in view of seeking + him out and warning him against Mrs. Sydney Bamborough. + </p> + <p> + “It would appear,” murmured the stout philosopher, “that + we are about to work together for the first time. But if there is one + thing that I dislike more than the enmity of Claude de Chauxville it is + his friendship.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII — OLD HANDS + </h2> + <p> + Karl Steinmetz lifted his pen from the paper before him and scratched his + forehead with his forefinger. + </p> + <p> + “Now, I wonder,” he said aloud, “how many bushels there + are in a ton. Ach! how am I to find out? These English weights and + measures, this English money, when there is a metrical system!” + </p> + <p> + He sat and hardly looked up when the clock struck seven. It was a quiet + room this in which he sat, the library of Paul’s London house. The + noise of Piccadilly reached his ears as a faint roar, not entirely + unpleasant, but sociable and full of life. Accustomed as he was to the + great silence of Russia, where sound seems lost in space, the hum of a + crowded humanity was a pleasant change to this philosopher, who loved his + kind while fully recognizing its little weaknesses. + </p> + <p> + While he sat there still wondering how many bushels of seed made a ton, + Paul Alexis came into the room. The younger man was in evening dress. He + looked at the clock rather eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Will you dine here?” he asked, and Steinmetz wheeled around + in his chair. “I am going out to dinner,” he explained + further. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said the elder man. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to Mrs. Sydney Bamborough’s.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz bowed his head gravely. He said nothing. He was not looking at + Paul, but at the pattern of the carpet. There was a short silence. Then + Paul said, with entire simplicity: + </p> + <p> + “I shall probably ask her to marry me.” + </p> + <p> + “And she will probably say yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not so sure about that,” said Paul, with a laugh. For + this man was without conceit. He had gradually been forced to admit that + there are among men persons whose natural inclination is toward evil, + persons who value not the truth, nor hold by honesty. But he was guileless + enough to believe that women are not so. He actually believed that women + are truthful and open and honorable. He believes it still, which is + somewhat startling. There are a few such dullards yet. “I do not see + why she should,” he went on gravely. He was standing by the empty + fire-place, a manly, upright figure; one who was not very clever, not + brilliant at all, somewhat slow in his speech, but sure, deadly sure, in + the honesty of his purpose. + </p> + <p> + Karl Steinmetz looked at him and smiled openly, with the quaint air of + resignation that was his. + </p> + <p> + “You have never seen her, eh?” enquired Paul. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz paused, then he told a lie, a good one, well told, deliberately. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “We are going to the opera, Box F2. If you come in I shall have + pleasure in introducing you. The sooner you know each other the better. I + am sure you will approve.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you ought to marry money.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” he answered, “because every-body does who can. + There is Catrina Lanovitch, an estate as big as yours, adjoining yours. A + great Russian family, a good girl who—is willing.” + </p> + <p> + Paul laughed, a good wholesome laugh. + </p> + <p> + “You are inclined to exaggerate my manifold and obvious + qualifications,” he said. “Catrina is a very nice girl, but I + do not think she would marry me even if I asked her.” + </p> + <p> + “Which you do not intend to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will make an enemy of her,” said Steinmetz quietly. + “It may be inconvenient, but that cannot be helped. A woman scorned—you + know. Shakspere or the Bible, I always mix them up. No, Paul; Catrina + Lanovitch is a dangerous enemy. She has been making love to you these last + four years, and you would have seen it if you had not been a fool! I am + afraid, my good Paul, you are a fool, God bless you for it!” + </p> + <p> + “I think you are wrong,” said Paul rather curtly; “not + about me being a fool, but about Catrina Lanovitch. If you are right, + however, it only makes me dislike her instead of being perfectly + indifferent to her.” + </p> + <p> + His honest face flushed up finely, and he turned away to look at the clock + again. + </p> + <p> + “I hate your way of talking about women, Steinmetz,” he said. + “You’re a cynical old beast, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven forbid, my dear prince! I admire all women—they are so + clever, so innocent, so pure-minded. Do not your English novels prove it, + your English stage, your newspapers, so high-toned? Who supports the + novelist, the play-wright, the actor, who but your English ladies?” + </p> + <p> + “Better than being cooks—like your German ladies,” + retorted Paul stoutly. “If you <i>are</i> German this evening. + Better than being cooks.” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt it! I very much doubt it, my friend. At what time shall I + present myself at Box F2 this evening?” + </p> + <p> + “About nine—as soon as you like.” + </p> + <p> + Paul looked at the clock. The pointers lagged horribly. He knew that the + carriage was certain to be at the door, waiting in the quiet street with + its great restless horses, its two perfectly trained men, its gleaming + lamps and shining harness. But he would not allow himself the luxury of + being the first arrival. Paul had himself well in hand. At last it was + time to go. + </p> + <p> + “See you later,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you—yes,” replied Steinmetz, without looking up. + </p> + <p> + So Paul Howard Alexis sallied forth to seek the hand of the lady of his + choice, and as he left his own door that lady was receiving Claude de + Chauxville in her drawing-room. The two had not met for some weeks—not + indeed since Etta had told the Frenchman that she could not marry him. Her + invitation to dine, couched in the usual friendly words, had been the + first move in that game commonly called “bluff.” Claude de + Chauxville’s acceptance of the same had been the second move. And + these two persons, who were not afraid of each other, shook hands with a + pleasant smile of greeting, while Paul hurried toward them through the + busy streets. + </p> + <p> + “Am I forgiven—that I am invited to dinner?” asked De + Chauxville imperturbably, when the servant had left them alone. + </p> + <p> + Etta was one of those women who are conscious of their dress. Some may + protest that a lady moving in such circles would not be so. But in all + circles women are only women, and in every class of life we meet such as + Etta Bamborough. Women who, while they talk, glance down and rearrange a + flower or a piece of lace. It is a mere habit, seemingly small and + unimportant; but it marks the woman and sets her apart. + </p> + <p> + Etta was standing on the hearthrug, beautifully dressed—too + beautifully dressed, it is possible, to sit down. Her maid had a moment + earlier confessed that she could do no more, and Etta had come down stairs + a vision of luxury, of womanly loveliness. Nevertheless, there appeared to + be something amiss. She was so occupied with a flower at her shoulder that + she did not answer at once. + </p> + <p> + “Forgiven for what?” she asked at length, in that preoccupied + tone of voice which tells wise men that only questions of dress will be + considered. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville shrugged his shoulders in his graceful Gallic way. + </p> + <p> + “Mon Dieu!” he exclaimed. “For a crime which requires no + excuse, and no explanation other than a mirror.” + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him innocently. + </p> + <p> + “A mirror?” + </p> + <p> + “Yours. Have you forgiven me for falling in love with you? It is, I + am told, a crime that women sometimes condone.” + </p> + <p> + “It was no crime,” she said. She had heard the wheels of Paul’s + carriage. “It was a misfortune. Please let us forget that it ever + happened.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville twirled his neat mustache, looking keenly at her the while. + </p> + <p> + “You forget,” he said. “But I—will remember.” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer, but turned with a smile to greet Paul. + </p> + <p> + “I think you know each other,” she said gracefully when she + had shaken hands, and the two men bowed. They were foreigners, be it + understood. There were three languages in which they could understand each + other with equal ease. + </p> + <p> + “Where <i>is</i> Maggie?” exclaimed Mrs. Bamborough. “She + is always late.” + </p> + <p> + “When I am here,” reflected De Chauxville. But he did not say + it. + </p> + <p> + Miss Delafield kept them waiting a few minutes, and during that time Etta + Sydney Bamborough gave a very fine display of prowess with the + double-stringed bow. When a man attempts to handle this delicate weapon, + he usually makes, if one may put it thus crudely, an ass of himself. He + generally succeeds in snapping one and probably both of the strings, + injuring himself most certainly in the process. + </p> + <p> + Not so, however, this clever lady. She had a smile and an epigram for + Claude de Chauxville, a grave air of sympathetic interest in more serious + affairs for Paul Alexis. She was bright and amusing, guileless and very + worldly wise in the same breath—simple for Paul and a match for De + Chauxville, within the space of three seconds. Withal she was a beautiful + woman beautifully dressed. A thousand times too wise to scorn her + womanhood, as learned fools are prone to do in print and on platform in + these wordy days, but wielding the strongest power on earth, to wit, that + same womanhood, with daring and with skill. A learned woman is not of much + account in the world. A clever woman moves as much of it as lies in her + neighborhood—that is to say, as much as she cares to rule. For women + love power, but they do not care to wield it at a distance. + </p> + <p> + Paul was asked to take Mrs. Sydney Bamborough down to dinner by the lady + herself. + </p> + <p> + “Mon ami,” she said in a quiet aside to De Chauxville, before + making her request, “it is the first time the prince dines here.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke in French. Maggie and Paul were talking together at the other + end of the room. De Chauxville bowed in silence. + </p> + <p> + At dinner the conversation was necessarily general, and, as such, is not + worth reporting. No general conversation, one finds, is of much value when + set down in black and white. It is not even grammatical nowadays. To be + more correct, let us note that the talk lay between Etta and M. de + Chauxville, who had a famous supply of epigrams and bright nothings + delivered in such a way that they really sounded like wisdom. Etta was + equal to him, sometimes capping his sharp wit, sometimes contenting + herself with silvery laughter. Maggie Delafield was rather distraite, as + De Chauxville noted. The girl’s dislike for him was an iron that + entered the quick of his vanity anew every time he saw her. There was no + petulance in the aversion, such as he had perceived with other maidens who + were only resenting a passing negligence or seeking to pique his + curiosity. This was a steady and, if you will, unmaidenly aversion, which + Maggie conscientiously attempted to conceal. + </p> + <p> + Paul, it is to be feared, was what hostesses call heavy in hand. He + laughed where he saw something to laugh at, but not elsewhere, which in + some circles is considered morose and in bad form. He joined readily + enough in the conversation, but originated nothing. Those topics which + occupied his mind did not present themselves as suitable to this occasion. + His devotion to Etta was quite obvious, and he was simple enough not to + care that it should be so. + </p> + <p> + Maggie was by turns quite silent and very talkative. When Paul and Etta + were speaking together she never looked at them, but fixedly at her own + plate, at a decanter, or a salt-cellar. When she spoke she addressed her + remarks—valueless enough in themselves—exclusively to the man + she disliked, Claude de Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + There was something amiss in the pretty little room. There were shadows + seated around that pretty little table ` quatre, beside the guests in + their pretty dresses and their black coats; silent cold shadows, who ate + nothing, while they chilled the dainty food and took the sweetness from + the succulent dishes. These shadows had crept in unawares, a silent partie + carrie, to take their phantom places at the table, and only Etta seemed + able to jostle hers aside and talk it down. She took the whole burden of + the conversation upon her pretty shoulders, and bore it through the little + banquet with unerring skill and unflinching good humor. In the midst of + her merriest laughter, the clever gray eyes would flit from one man’s + face to the other. Paul had been brought here to ask her to marry him. + Claude de Chauxville had been invited that he might be tacitly presented + to his successful rival. Maggie was there because she was a woman and made + the necessary fourth. Puppets all, and two of them knew it. And some of us + know it all our lives. We are living, moving puppets. We let ourselves be + dragged here and pushed there, the victim of one who happens to have more + energy of mind, a greater steadfastness of purpose, a keener grasp of the + situation called life. We smirk and smile, and lose the game because we + have begun by being anvils, and are afraid of trying to be hammers. + </p> + <p> + But Etta Sydney Bamborough had to deal with metal of a harder grain than + the majority of us. Claude de Chauxville was for the moment forced to + assume the humble rtle of anvil because he had no choice. Maggie Delafield + was passive for the time being, because that which would make her active + was no more than a tiny seedling in her heart. The girl bid fair to be one + of those women who develop late, who ripen slowly, like the best fruit. + </p> + <p> + During the drive to the opera house the two women in Etta’s snug + little brougham were silent. Etta had her thoughts to occupy her. She was + at the crucial point of a difficult game. She could not afford to allow + even a friend to see so much as the corners of the cards she held. + </p> + <p> + In the luxurious box it was easily enough arranged—Etta and Paul + together in front, De Chauxville and Maggie at the other corner of the + box. + </p> + <p> + “I have asked my friend Karl Steinmetz to come in during the + evening,” said Paul to Etta when they were seated. “He is + anxious to make your acquaintance. He is my—prime minister over in + Russia.” + </p> + <p> + Etta smiled graciously. + </p> + <p> + “It is kind of him,” she answered, “to be anxious to + make my acquaintance.” + </p> + <p> + She was apparently listening to the music; in reality she was hurrying + back mentally over half a dozen years. She had never had much to do with + the stout German philosopher, but she knew enough of him to scorn the + faint hope that he might have forgotten her name and her individuality. + Etta Bamborough had never been disconcerted in her life yet; this incident + came very near to bringing about the catastrophe. + </p> + <p> + “At what time,” she asked, “is he coming in?” + </p> + <p> + “About half-past nine.” + </p> + <p> + Etta had a watch on a bracelet on her arm. Such women always know the + time. + </p> + <p> + It was a race, and Etta won it. She had only half an hour. De Chauxville + was there, and Maggie with her quiet, honest eyes. But the widow of Sydney + Bamborough made Paul ask her to be his wife, and she promised to give him + his answer later. She did it despite a thousand difficulties and more than + one danger—accomplished it with, as the sporting people say, plenty + to spare—before the door behind them was opened by the attendant, + and Karl Steinmetz, burly, humorously imperturbable and impenetrable, + stood smiling gravely on the situation. + </p> + <p> + He saw Claude de Chauxville, and before the Frenchman had turned round the + expression on Steinmetz’s large and placid countenance had changed + from the self-consciousness usually preceding an introduction to one of a + dim recognition. + </p> + <p> + “I have had the pleasure of meeting madame somewhere before, I + think. In St. Petersburg, was it not?” + </p> + <p> + Etta, composed and smiling, said that it was so, and introduced him to + Maggie. De Chauxville took the opportunity of leaving that young lady’s + side, and placing himself near enough to Paul and Etta to completely + frustrate any further attempts at confidential conversation. + </p> + <p> + For a moment Steinmetz and Paul were left standing together. + </p> + <p> + “I have had a telegram,” said Steinmetz in Russian. “We + must go back to Tver. There is cholera again. When can you come?” + </p> + <p> + Beneath his heavy mustache Paul bit his lip. + </p> + <p> + “In three days,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “True? You will come with me?” enquired Steinmetz, under cover + of the clashing music. + </p> + <p> + “Of course.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz looked at him curiously. He glanced toward Etta, but he said + nothing. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII — SAFE! + </h2> + <p> + The season wore on to its perihelion—a period, the scientific books + advise us, of the highest clang and crash of speed and whirl, of the + greatest brilliancy and deepest glow of a planet’s existence. The + business of life, the pursuit of pleasure, and the scientific demolition + of our common enemy, Time, received all the care which such matters + require. + </p> + <p> + Dibutantes bloomed and were duly culled by aged connoisseurs of such + wares, or by youthful aspirants with the means to pay the piper in the + form of a handsome settlement. The usual number of young persons of the + gentler sex entered the lists of life, with the mistaken notion that it is + love that makes the world go round, to ride away from the joust wiser and + sadder women. + </p> + <p> + There was the same round of conventional pleasures which the reader and + his humble servant have mixed in deeply or dilettante, according to his + taste or capacity for such giddy work. There was withal the usual + heart-burning, heart-bartering, heart—anything you will but + breaking. For we have not breaking hearts among us to-day. Providence, it + would seem, has run short of the commodity, and deals out only a few among + a number of persons. + </p> + <p> + Amid the whirl of rout, and ball, and picnic, race-meeting, polo-match, + and what-not, Paul Howard Alexis stalked misunderstood, distrusted; an + object of ridicule to some, of pity to others, of impatience to all. A + man, if it please you, with a purpose—a purpose at the latter end of + the nineteenth century, when most of us, having decided that there is no + future, take it upon ourselves to despise the present. + </p> + <p> + Paul soon discovered that he was found out—at no time a pleasant + condition of things, except, indeed, when callers are about. That which + Eton and Cambridge had failed to lay their fingers upon, every + match-making mother had found out for herself in a week. That the + discovery had been carefully kept in each maternal breast, it is needless + to relate. Ces dames are not confidential upon such matters between + themselves. When they have scented their game they stalk him, and if + possible bag him in a feline solitude which has no fears for stout, + ambitious hearts. The fear is that some other prowling mother of an + eligible maiden may hit upon the same scent. + </p> + <p> + Paul was invited to quiet dinners and a little music, to quiet dinners + without the music, to a very little music and no dinner whatever. The + number of ladies who had a seat in a box thrown upon their hands at the + last minute—a seat next to Angelina in her new pink, or Blanche in + her sweet poult de soie—the number of these ladies one can only say + was singular, because politeness forbids one to suggest that it was + suspicious. Soft cheeks became rosy at his approach—partly, perhaps, + because soft and dainty toes in satin slippers were trodden upon with + maternal emphasis at that moment. Soft eyes looked love into eyes that, + alas! only returned preoccupation. There was always room on an engagement + card for Paul’s name. There was always space in the smallest + drawing-room for Paul’s person, vast though the latter was. There + was—fond mothers conveyed it to him subtly after supper and + champagne—an aching void in more than one maiden heart which was his + exact fit. + </p> + <p> + But Paul was at once too simple and too clever for matron and maid alike. + Too simple, because he failed to understand the inner meaning of many + pleasant things that the guileless fair one said to him. Too clever, + because he met the subtle matron with the only arm she feared, a perfect + honesty. And when at last he obtained his answer from the coy and + hesitating Etta, there was no gossip in London who could put forward a + just cause or impediment. + </p> + <p> + Etta gave him the answer one evening at the house of a mutual friend, + where a multitude of guests had assembled ostensibly to hear certain + celebrated singers, apparently to whisper recriminations on their + entertainer’s champagne. It was a dull business—except, + indeed, for Paul Howard Alexis. As for the lady—the only lady his + honest, simple world contained—who shall say? Inwardly she may have + been in trembling, coy alarm, in breathless, blushing hesitation. + Outwardly she was, however, exceedingly composed and self-possessed. She + had been as careful as ever of her toilet—as hard to please; as—dare + we say snappish with her maids? The beautiful hair had no one of its + aureate threads out of place. The pink of her shell-like cheek was steady, + unruffled, fair to behold. Her whole demeanor was admirable in its + well-bred repose. Did she love him? Was it in her power to love any man? + Not the humble chronicler—not any man, perhaps, and but few women—can + essay an answer. Suffice it that she accepted him. In exchange for the + title he could give her, the position he could assure to her, the wealth + he was ready to lavish upon her, and, lastly, let us mention, in the + effete, old-fashioned way, the love he bore her—in exchange for + these she gave him her hand. + </p> + <p> + Thus Etta Sydney Bamborough was enabled to throw down her cards at last + and win the game she had played so skilfully. The widow of an obscure + little Foreign Office clerk, she might have been a baroness, but she put + the smaller honor aside and aspired to a prince. Behind the gay smile + there must have been a quick and resourceful brain, daring to scheme, + intrepid in execution. Within the fair breast there must have been a heart + resolute, indomitable, devoid of weak scruple. Mark the last. It is the + scruple that keeps the reader and his humble servant from being greater + men than they are. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” says Etta, allowing Paul to take her perfectly gloved + hand in his great, steady grasp; “yes, I have my answer ready.” + </p> + <p> + They were alone in the plashy solitude of an inner conservatory, between + the songs of the great singers. She was half afraid of this strong man, + for he had strange ways with him—not uncouth, but unusual and + somewhat surprising in a finnicking, emotionless generation. + </p> + <p> + “And what is it?” whispers Paul eagerly. Ah! what fools men + are—what fools they always will be! + </p> + <p> + Etta gave a little nod, looking shamefacedly down at the pattern of her + lace fan. + </p> + <p> + “Is that it?” he asked breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + The nod was repeated, and Paul Howard Alexis was thereby made the happiest + man in England. She half expected him to take her in his arms, despite the + temporary nature of their solitude. Perhaps she half wished it; for behind + her business-like and exceedingly practical appreciation of his wealth + there lurked a very feminine curiosity and interest in his feelings—a + curiosity somewhat whetted by the manifold differences that existed + between him and the society lovers with whom she had hitherto played the + pretty game. + </p> + <p> + But Paul contented himself with raising the gloved fingers to his lips, + restrained by a feeling of respect for her which she would not have + understood and probably did not merit. + </p> + <p> + “But,” she said with a sudden smile, “I take no + responsibility. I am not very sure that it will be a success. I can only + try to make you happy—goodness knows if I shall succeed!” + </p> + <p> + “You have only to be yourself to do that,” he answered, with + lover-like promptness and a blindness which is the special privilege of + those happy fools. + </p> + <p> + She gave a strange little smile. + </p> + <p> + “But how do I know that our lives will harmonize in the least? I + know nothing of your daily existence; where you live—where you want + to live.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to live mostly in Russia,” he answered + honestly. + </p> + <p> + Her expression did not change. It merely fixed itself as one sees the face + of a watching cat fix itself, when the longed for mouse shows a whisker. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she said lightly, confident in her own power; “that + will arrange itself later.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad I am rich,” said Paul simply, “because I + shall be able to give you all you want. There are many little things that + add to a woman’s comfort; I shall find them out and see that you + have them.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you so very rich, Paul?” she asked, with an innocent + wonder. “But I don’t think it matters; do you? I do not think + that riches have much to do with happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he answered. He was not a person with many theories upon + life or happiness or such matters—which, by the way, are in no way + affected by theories. By taking thought we cannot add a cubit to the + height of our happiness. We can only undermine its base by too searching + an analysis of that upon which it is built. + </p> + <p> + So Paul replied “No,” and took pleasure in looking at her, as + any lover must needs have done. + </p> + <p> + “Except, of course,” she said, “that one may do good + with great riches.” + </p> + <p> + She gave a little sigh, as if deploring the misfortune that hitherto her + own small means had fallen short of the happy point at which one may begin + doing good. + </p> + <p> + “Are you so very rich, Paul?” she repeated, as if she was + rather afraid of those riches and mistrusted them. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I suppose so. Horribly rich!” + </p> + <p> + She had withdrawn her hand. She gave it to him again, with a pretty + movement usually understood to indicate bashfulness. + </p> + <p> + “It can’t be helped,” she said. “We”—she + dwelt upon the word ever so slightly—“we can perhaps do a + little good with it.” + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly he blurted out all his wishes on this point—his + quixotic aims, the foolish imaginings of a too chivalrous soul. She + listened, prettily eager, sweetly compassionate of the sorrows of the + peasantry whom he made the object of his simple pity. Her gray eyes + contracted with horror when he told her of the misery with which he was + too familiar. Her pretty lips quivered when he told her of little children + born only to starve because their mothers were starving. She laid her + gloved fingers gently on his when he recounted tales of strong men—good + fathers in their simple, barbarous way—who were well content that + the children should die rather than be saved to pass a miserable + existence, without joy, without hope. + </p> + <p> + She lifted her eyes with admiration to his face when he told her what he + hoped to do, what he dreamed of accomplishing. She even made a few eager, + heartfelt suggestions, fitly coming from a woman—touched with a + woman’s tenderness, lightened by a woman’s sympathy and + knowledge. + </p> + <p> + It was in its way a tragedy, the picture we are called to look upon—these + newly made lovers, not talking of themselves, as is the time-honored habit + of such. Surrounded by every luxury, both high-born, refined, and wealthy; + both educated, both intelligent. He, simple-minded, earnest, quite + absorbed in his happiness, because that happiness seemed to fall in so + easily with the busier, and, as some might say, the nobler side of his + ambition. She, failing to understand his aspirations, thinking only of his + wealth. + </p> + <p> + “But,” she said at length, “shall you—we—be + allowed to do all this? I thought that such schemes were not encouraged in + Russia. It is such a pity to pauperize the people.” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot pauperize a man who has absolutely nothing,” + replied Paul. “Of course, we shall have difficulties; but, together, + I think we shall be able to overcome them.” + </p> + <p> + Etta smiled sympathetically, and the smile finished up, as it were, with a + gleam very like amusement. She had been vouchsafed for a moment a vision + of herself in some squalid Russian village, in a hideous Russian-made + tweed dress, dispensing the necessaries of life to a people only little + raised above the beasts of the field. The vision made her smile, as well + it might. In Petersburg life might be tolerable for a little in the height + of the season—for a few weeks of the brilliant Northern winter—but + in no other part of Russia could she dream of dwelling. + </p> + <p> + They sat and talked of their future as lovers will, knowing as little of + it as any of us, building up castles in the air, such edifices as we have + all constructed, destined, no doubt, to the same rapid collapse as some of + us have quailed under. Paul, with lamentable honesty, talked almost as + much of his stupid peasants as of his beautiful companion, which pleased + her not too well. Etta, with a strange persistence, brought the + conversation ever back and back to the house in London, the house in + Petersburg, the great grim castle in the Government of Tver, and the + princely rent-roll. And once on the subject of Tver, Paul could scarce be + brought to leave it. + </p> + <p> + “I am going back there,” he said at length. + </p> + <p> + “When?” she asked, with a composure which did infinite credit + to her modest reserve. Her love was jealously guarded. It lay too deep to + be disturbed by the thought that her lover would leave her soon. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow,” was his answer. + </p> + <p> + She did not speak at once. Should she try the extent of her power over + him? Never was lover so chivalrous, so respectful, so sincere. Should she + gauge the height of her supremacy? If it proved less powerful than she + suspected, she would at all events be credited with a very natural + aversion to parting from him. + </p> + <p> + “Paul,” she said, “you cannot do that. Not so soon. I + cannot let you go.” + </p> + <p> + He flushed up to the eyes suddenly, like a girl. There was a little pause, + and the color slowly left his face. Somehow that pause frightened Etta. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I must go,” he said gravely at length. + </p> + <p> + “Must—a prince?” + </p> + <p> + “It is on that account,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Then I am to conclude that you are more devoted to your peasants + than to—me?” + </p> + <p> + He assured her to the contrary. She tried once again, but nothing could + move him from his decision. Etta was perhaps a small-minded person, and as + such failed to attach due importance to this proof that her power over him + was limited. It ceased, in fact, to exist as soon as it touched that + strong sense of duty which is to be found in many men and in remarkably + few women. + </p> + <p> + It almost seemed as if the abrupt departure of her lover was in some sense + a relief to Etta Sydney Bamborough. For, while he, lover-like, was grave + and earnest during the small remainder of the evening, she continued to be + sprightly and gay. The last he saw of her was her smiling face at the + window as her carriage drove away. + </p> + <p> + Arrived at the little house in Upper Brook Street, Maggie and Etta went + into the drawing-room, where biscuits and wine were set out. Their maids + came and took their cloaks away, leaving them alone. + </p> + <p> + “Paul and I are engaged,” said Etta suddenly. She was picking + the withered flowers from her dress and throwing them carelessly on the + table. + </p> + <p> + Maggie was standing with her back to her, with her two hands on the + mantel-piece. She was about to turn round when she caught sight of her own + face in the mirror, and that which she saw there made her change her + intention. + </p> + <p> + “I am not surprised,” she said, in an even voice, standing + like a statue. “I congratulate you. I think he is—nice.” + </p> + <p> + “You also think he is too good for me,” said Etta, with a + little laugh. There was something in that laugh—a ring of wounded + vanity, the wounded vanity of a bad woman who is in the presence of her + superior. + </p> + <p> + “No!” answered Maggie slowly, tracing the veins of the marble + across the mantel-piece. “No—o, not that.” + </p> + <p> + Etta looked up at her. It was rather singular that she did not ask what + Maggie did think. Perhaps she was afraid of a certain British honesty + which characterized the girl’s thought and speech. Instead she rose + and indulged in a yawn which may have been counterfeit, but it was a good + counterfeit. + </p> + <p> + “Will you have a biscuit?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “No, thanks.” + </p> + <p> + “Then shall we go to bed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX — THE PRINCE + </h2> + <p> + The village of Osterno, lying, or rather scrambling, along the banks of + the river Oster, is at no time an exhilarating spot. It is a large + village, numbering over nine hundred souls, as the board affixed to its + first house testifieth in incomprehensible Russian figures. + </p> + <p> + A “soul,” be it known, is a different object in the land of + the Czars to that vague protoplasm about which our young persons think + such mighty thoughts, our old men write such famous big books. A soul is + namely a man—in Russia the women have not yet begun to seek their + rights and lose their privileges. A man is therefore a “soul” + in Russia, and as such enjoys the doubtful privilege of contributing to + the land-tax and to every other tax. In compensation for the first-named + impost he is apportioned his share of the common land of the village, and + by the cultivation of this ekes out an existence which would be valueless + if he were a teetotaller. It is melancholy to have to record this fact in + the pages of a respectable volume like the present; but facts—as the + orator who deals in fiction is ever ready to announce—facts cannot + be ignored. And any man who has lived in Russia, has dabbled in Russian + humanity, and noted the singular unattractiveness of Russian life—any + such man can scarcely deny the fact that if one deprives the moujik of his + privilege of getting gloriously and frequently intoxicated, one takes away + from that same moujik the one happiness of his existence. + </p> + <p> + That the Russian peasant is by nature one of the cheeriest, the noisiest, + and lightest-hearted of men is only another proof of the Creator’s + power; for this dimly lighted “soul” has nothing to cheer him + on his forlorn way but the memory of the last indulgence in strong drink + and the hope of more to come. He is harassed by a ruthless tax-collector; + he is shut off from the world by enormous distances over impracticable + roads. When the famine comes, and come it assuredly will, the moujik has + no alternative but to stay where he is and starve. Since Alexander II. of + philanthropic memory made the Russian serf a free man, the blessings of + freedom have been found to resolve themselves chiefly into a perfect + liberty to die of starvation, of cold, or of dire disease. When he was a + serf this man was of some small value to some one; now he is of no + consequence to any one whatsoever except himself, and, with considerable + intelligence, he sets but small store upon his own existence. Freedom, in + fact, came to him before he was ready for it; and, hampered as he has been + by petty departmental tyranny, governmental neglect, and a natural + stupidity, he has made very small progress toward a mental independence. + All that he has learnt to do is to hate his tyrants. When famine urges + him, he goes blindly, helplessly, dumbly, and tries to take by force that + which is denied by force. + </p> + <p> + With us in England the poor man raises up his voice and cries aloud when + he wants something. He always wants something—never work, by the way—and + therefore his voice pervades the atmosphere. He has his evening newspaper, + which is dear at the moderate sum of a halfpenny. He has his professional + organizers, and his Trafalgar Square. He even has his members of + Parliament. He does no work, and he does not starve. In his generation the + poor man thinks himself wise. In Russia, however, things are managed + differently. The poor man is under the heel of the rich. Some day there + will be in Russia a Terror, but not yet. Some day the moujik will erect + unto himself a rough sort of a guillotine, but not in our day. Perhaps + some of us who are young men now may dimly read in our dotage of a great + upheaval beside which the Terror of France will be tame and uneventful. + Who can tell? When a country begins to grow, its mental development is + often startlingly rapid. + </p> + <p> + But we have to do with Russia of to-day, and the village of Osterno in the + Government of Tver. Not a “famine” Government, mind you! For + these are the Volga Provinces—Samara, Pensa, Voronish, Vintka, and a + dozen others. No! Tver the civilized, the prosperous, the manufacturing + centre. + </p> + <p> + Osterno is built of wood. Should it once fairly catch alight in a high + wind, all that will be left of this town will be a few charred timbers and + some dazed human beings. The inhabitants know their own danger, and + endeavor to meet it in their fatalistic manner. Each village has its fire + organization. Each “soul” has his appointed place, his + appointed duty, and his special contribution—be it bucket or rope or + ladder—to bring to the conflagration. But no one ever dreams of + being sober and vigilant at the right time, so the organization, like many + larger such, is a broken reed. + </p> + <p> + The street, bounded on either side by low wooden houses, is, singularly + enough, well paved. This, the traveller is told, by the tyrant Prince + Pavlo, who made the road because he did not like driving over ruts and + through puddles—the usual Russian rural thoroughfare. Not because + Prince Pavlo wanted to give the peasants work, not because he wanted to + save them from starvation—not at all, although, in the gratification + of his own whim, he happened to render those trifling services; but merely + because he was a great “barin”—a prince who could have + any thing he desired. Had not the other barin—Steinmetz by name—superintended + the work? Steinmetz the hated, the loathed, the tool of the tyrant whom + they never see. Ask the “starost”—the mayor of the + village. He knows the barins, and hates them. + </p> + <p> + Michael Roon, the starosta or elder of Osterno, president of the Mir, or + village council, principal shopkeeper, mayor and only intelligent soul of + the nine hundred, probably had Tartar blood in his veins. To this strain + may be attributed the narrow Tartar face, the keen black eyes, the short, + spare figure which many remember to this day, although Michael Roon has + been dead these many years. + </p> + <p> + Removed far above the majority of his fellow-villagers in intelligence and + energy, this man administered the law of his own will to his colleagues on + the village council. + </p> + <p> + It was late in the autumn, one evening remembered by many for its + death-roll, that the starosta was standing at the door of his small shop. + He was apparently idle. He never sold vodka, and the majority of the + villagers were in one of the three thriving “kabaks” which + drove a famous trade in strong drink and weak tea. It was a very hot + evening. The sun had set in a pink haze which was now turning to an + unhealthy gray, and spreading over the face of the western sky like the + shadow of death across the human countenance. + </p> + <p> + The starosta shook his head forebodingly. It was cholera weather. Cholera + had come to Osterno. Had come, the starosta thought, to stay. It had + settled down in Osterno, and nothing but the winter frosts would kill it, + when hunger-typhus would undoubtedly succeed it. + </p> + <p> + Therefore the starosta shook his head at the sunset, and forgot to regret + the badness of the times from a commercial point of view. He had done all + he could. He had notified to the Zemstvo the condition of his village. He + had made the usual appeal for help, which had been forwarded in the usual + way to Tver, where it had apparently been received with the usual + philosophic silence. + </p> + <p> + But Michael Roon had also telegraphed to Karl Steinmetz, and since the + despatch of this message had the starosta dropped into the habit of + standing at his doorway in the evening, with his hands clasped behind his + back and his beady black eyes bent westward along the prince’s + high-road. + </p> + <p> + On the particular evening with which we have to do the beady eyes looked + not in vain; for presently, far along the road, appeared a black speck + like an insect crawling over the face of a map. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said the starosta. “Ah! he never fails.” + </p> + <p> + Presently a neighbor dropped in to buy some of the dried leaf which the + starosta, honest tradesman, called tea. He found the purveyor of Cathay’s + produce at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he said, in a voice thick with vodka. “You see + something on the road?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “A cart?” + </p> + <p> + “No, a carriage. It moves too quickly.” + </p> + <p> + A strange expression came over the peasant’s face, at no time a + pleasing physiognomy. The bloodshot eyes flared up suddenly like a + smouldering flame in brown paper. The unsteady, drink-sodden lips + twitched. The man threw up his shaggy head, upon which hair and beard + mingled in unkempt confusion. He glared along the road with eyes and face + aglow with a sullen, beast-like hatred. + </p> + <p> + “A carriage! Then it is for the castle.” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly,” answered the starosta. + </p> + <p> + “The prince—curse him, curse his mother’s soul, curse + his wife’s offspring!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the starosta quietly. “Yes, curse him and + all his works. What is it you want, little father—tea?” + </p> + <p> + He turned into the shop and served his customer, duly inscribing the debt + among others in a rough, cheap book. + </p> + <p> + The word soon spread that a carriage was coming along the road from Tver. + All the villagers came to the doors of their dilapidated wooden huts. Even + the kabaks were emptied for a time. As the vehicle approached it became + apparent that the horses were going at a great pace; not only was the + loose horse galloping, but also the pair in the shafts. The carriage was + an open one, an ordinary North Russian travelling carriage, not unlike the + vehicle we call the victoria, set on high wheels. + </p> + <p> + Beside the driver on the box sat another servant. In the open carriage sat + one man only, Karl Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + As he passed through the village a murmur of many voices followed him, not + quite drowned by the rattle of his wheels, the clatter of the horses’ + feet. The murmur was a curse. Karl Steinmetz heard it distinctly. It made + him smile with a queer expression beneath his great gray mustache. + </p> + <p> + The starosta, standing in his door-way, saw the smile. He raised his voice + with his neighbors and cursed. As Steinmetz passed him he gave a little + jerk of the head toward the castle. The jerk of the head might have been + due to an inequality of the road, but it might also convey an appointment. + The keen, haggard face of Michael Roon showed no sign of mutual + understanding. And the carriage rattled on through the stricken village. + </p> + <p> + Two hours later, when it was quite dark, a closed carriage, with two + bright lamps flaring into the night, passed through the village toward the + castle at a gallop. + </p> + <p> + “It is the prince,” the peasants said, crouching in their low + door-ways. “It is the prince. We know his bells—they are of + silver—and we shall starve during the winter. Curse him—curse + him!” + </p> + <p> + They raised their heads and listened to the galloping feet with the + patient, dumb despair which is the curse of the Slavonic race. Some of + them crept to their doors, and, looking up, saw that the castle windows + were ablaze with light. If Paul Howard Alexis was a plain English + gentleman in London, he was also a great prince in his country, keeping up + a princely state, enjoying the gilded solitude that belongs to the + high-born. His English education had educed a strict sense of discipline, + and as in England, and, indeed, all through his life, so in Russia did he + attempt to do his duty. + </p> + <p> + The carriage rattled up to the brilliantly lighted door, which stood open, + and within, on either side of the broad entrance-hall, the servants stood + to welcome their master. A strange, picturesque, motley crew: the + majordomo, in his black coat, and beside him the other house-servants—tall, + upright fellows, in their bright livery. Beyond them the stable-men and + keepers, a little army, in red cloth tunics, with wide trousers tucked + into high boots, all holding their fur caps in their hands, standing + stiffly at attention, clean, honest, and not too intelligent. + </p> + <p> + The castle of Osterno is built on the lines of many Russian country seats, + and not a few palaces in Moscow. The Royal Palace in the Kremlin is an + example. A broad entrance-hall, at the back of which a staircase as broad + stretches up to a gallery, around which the dwelling-rooms are situated. + At the head of the staircase, directly facing the entrance-hall, high + folding doors disclose the drawing-room, which is almost a throne room. + All gorgeous, lofty, spacious, as only Russian houses are. Truly this + northern empire, this great white land, is a country in which it is good + to be an emperor, a prince, a noble, but not a poor man. + </p> + <p> + Paul passed through the ranks of his retainers, himself a head taller than + the tallest footman, a few inches broader than the sturdiest keeper. He + acknowledged the low bows by a quick nod, and passed up the staircase. + Steinmetz—in evening dress, wearing the insignia of one or two + orders which he had won in the more active days of his earlier diplomatic + life—was waiting for him at the head of the stairs. + </p> + <p> + The two men bowed gravely to each other. Steinmetz threw open the door of + the great room and stood aside. The prince passed on, and the German + followed him, each playing his part gravely, as men in high places are + called to do. When the door was closed behind them and they were alone, + there was no relaxation, no smile of covert derision. These men knew the + Russian character thoroughly. There is, be it known, no more + impressionable man on the face of God’s earth. Paul and Steinmetz + had played their parts so long that these came to be natural to them as + soon as they passed the Volga. We are all so in a minor degree. In each + house, to each of our friends, we are unconsciously different in some + particular. One man holds us in awe, and we unconsciously instil that + feeling. Another considers us a buffoon, and, lo! we are exceedingly + funny. + </p> + <p> + Paul and Steinmetz knew that the people around them in Osterno were + somewhat like the dumb and driven beast. These peasants required overawing + by a careful display of pomp—an unrelaxed dignity. The line of + demarcation between the noble and the peasant is so marked in the land of + the Czar that it is difficult for Englishmen to realize or believe it. It + is like the line that is drawn between us and our dogs. If we suppose it + possible that dogs could be taught to act and think for themselves; if we + take such a development as practicable, and consider the possibilities of + social upheaval lying behind such an education, we can in a minute degree + realize the problem which Prince Pavlo Alexis and all his fellow-nobles + will be called upon to solve within the lifetime of men already born. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X — THE MOSCOW DOCTOR + </h2> + <p> + “Colossal!” exclaimed Steinmetz, beneath his breath. With a + little trick of the tongue he transferred his cigar from the right-hand to + the left-hand corner of his mouth. “Colossal—l!” he + repeated. + </p> + <p> + For a moment Paul looked up from the papers spread out on the table before + him—looked with the preoccupied air of a man who is adding up + something in his mind. Then he returned to his occupation. He had been at + this work for four hours without a break. It was nearly one o’clock + in the morning. Since dinner Karl Steinmetz had consumed no less than five + cigars, while he had not spoken five words. These two men, locked in a + small room in the middle of the castle of Osterno—a room with no + window, but which gained its light from the clear heaven by a shaft and a + skylight on the roof—locked in thus they had been engaged in the + addition of an enormous mass of figures. Each sheet had been carefully + annotated and added by Steinmetz, and as each was finished he handed it to + his companion. + </p> + <p> + “Is that fool never coming?” asked Paul, with an impatient + glance at the clock. + </p> + <p> + “Our very dear friend the starosta,” replied Steinmetz, + “is no slave to time. He is late.” + </p> + <p> + The room had the appearance of an office. There were two safes—square + chests such as we learn to associate with the name of Griffiths in this + country. There was a huge writing-table—a double table—at + which Paul and Steinmetz were seated. There were sundry stationery cases + and an almanac or so suspended on the walls, which were oaken panels. A + large white stove—common to all Russian rooms—stood against + the wall. The room had no less than three doors, with a handle on no one + of them. Each door opened with a key, like a cupboard. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz had apparently finished his work. He was sitting back in his + chair, contemplating his companion with a little smile. It apparently + tickled some obtuse Teutonic sense of humor to see this prince doing work + which is usually assigned to clerks—working out statistics and + abstruse calculations as to how much food is required to keep body and + soul together. + </p> + <p> + The silence of the room was almost oppressive. A Russian village after + nightfall is the quietest human habitation on earth. For the moujik—the + native of a country which will some day supply the universe with petroleum—cannot + afford to light up his humble abode, and therefore sits in darkness. Had + the village of Osterno possessed the liveliness of a Spanish hamlet, the + sound of voices and laughter could not have reached the castle perched + high up on the rock above. + </p> + <p> + But Osterno was asleep: the castle servants had long gone to rest, and the + great silence of Russia wrapped its wings over all. “When, + therefore, the clear, coughing bark of a wolf was heard, both occupants of + the little room looked up. The sound was repeated, and Steinmetz slowly + rose from his seat. + </p> + <p> + “I can quite believe that our friend is able to call a wolf or a + lynx to him,” he said. “He does it uncannily well.” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen him do so,” said Paul, without looking up. + “But it is a common enough accomplishment among the keepers.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz had left the room before he finished speaking. One of the doors + of this little room communicated with a large apartment used as a + secretary’s office, and through this by a small staircase with a + side entrance to the castle. By this side entrance the stewards of the + different outlying estates were conducted to the presence of the resident + secretary—a German selected and overawed by Karl Steinmetz—a + mere calculating machine of a man, with whom we have no affairs to + transact. + </p> + <p> + Before many minutes had elapsed Steinmetz came back, closely followed by + the starosta, whose black eyes twinkled and gleamed in the sudden light of + the lamp. He dropped on his knees when he saw Paul—suddenly, + abjectly, like an animal, in his dumb attitude of deprecation. + </p> + <p> + With a jerk of his head Paul bade him rise, which the man did, standing + back against the panelled wall, placing as great a distance between + himself and the prince as the size of the room would allow. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Paul curtly, almost roughly, “I hear you + are in trouble in the village.” + </p> + <p> + “The cholera has come, Excellency.” + </p> + <p> + “Many deaths?” + </p> + <p> + “To-day—eleven.” + </p> + <p> + Paul looked up sharply. + </p> + <p> + “And the doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “He has not come yet, Excellency. I sent for him—a fortnight + ago. The cholera is at Oseff, at Dolja, at Kalisheffa. It is everywhere. + He has forty thousand souls under his care. He has to obey the Zemstvo, to + go where they tell him. He takes no notice of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” interrupted Paul, “I know. And the people + themselves, do they attempt to understand it—to follow out my + instructions?” + </p> + <p> + The starosta spread out his thin hands in deprecation. He cringed a little + as he stood. He had Jewish blood in his veins, which, while it raised him + above his fellows in Osterno, carried with it the usual tendency to + cringe. It is in the blood; it is part of what the people who stood + without Pilate’s palace took upon themselves and upon their + children. + </p> + <p> + “Your Excellency,” he said, “knows what they are. It is + slow. They make no progress. For them one disease is as another. ‘Bog + dal e Bog vzial,’ they say. ‘God gave and God took!’” + </p> + <p> + He paused, his black eyes flashing from one face to the other. + </p> + <p> + “Only the Moscow doctor, Excellency,” he said significantly, + “can manage them.” + </p> + <p> + Paul shrugged his shoulders. He rose from his seat, glancing at Steinmetz, + who was looking on in silence, with his queer, mocking smile. + </p> + <p> + “I will go with you now,” he said. “It is late enough + already.” + </p> + <p> + The starosta bowed very low, but he said nothing. + </p> + <p> + Paul went to a cupboard and took from it an old fur coat, dragged at the + seams, stained about the cuffs a dull brown—doctors know the color. + Such stains have hanged a man before now, for they are the marks of blood. + Paul put on this coat. He took a long, soft silken scarf such as Russians + wear in winter, and wrapped it round his throat, quite concealing the + lower part of his face. He crammed a fur cap down over his ears. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Karl Steinmetz accompanied them down stairs, carrying a lamp in one hand. + He closed the door behind them, but did not lock it. Then he went upstairs + again to the quiet little room, where he sat down in a deep chair. He + looked at the open door of the cupboard from which Paul Alexis had taken + his simple disguise, with a large, tolerant humor. + </p> + <p> + “El Seqor Don Quixote de la Mancha,” he said sleepily. + </p> + <p> + It is said that to a doctor nothing is shocking and nothing is disgusting. + But doctors are, after all, only men of stomach like the rest of us, and + it is to be presumed that what nauseates one will nauseate the other. When + the starosta unceremoniously threw open the door of the miserable cabin + belonging to Vasilli Tula, Paul gave a little gasp. The foul air pouring + out of the noisome den was such that it seemed impossible that human lungs + could assimilate it. This Vasilli Tula was a notorious drunkard, a + discontent, a braggart. The Nihilist propaganda had in the early days of + that mistaken mission reached him and unsettled his discontented mind. + Misfortune seemed to pursue him. In higher grades of life than his there + are men who, like Tula, make a profession of misfortune. + </p> + <p> + Paul stumbled down two steps. The cottage was dark. The starosta had + apparently trodden on a chicken, which screamed shrilly and fluttered + about in the dark with that complete abandon which belongs to chickens, + sheep, and some women. + </p> + <p> + “Have you no light?” cried the starosta. + </p> + <p> + Paul retreated to the top step, where he had a short-lived struggle with a + well-grown calf which had been living in the room with the family, and + evinced a very creditable desire for fresh air. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, we have a little petroleum,” said a voice. “But + we have no matches.” + </p> + <p> + The starosta struck a light. + </p> + <p> + “I have brought the Moscow doctor to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “The Moscow doctor!” cried several voices. “Sbogom—sbogom! + God be with you!” + </p> + <p> + In the dim light the whole of the floor seemed to get up and shake itself. + There were at least seven persons sleeping in the hut. Two of them did not + get up. One was dead. The other was dying of cholera. + </p> + <p> + A heavily built man reached down from the top of the brick stove a cheap + tin paraffin lamp, which he handed to the starosta. By the light of this + Paul came again into the hut. The floor was filthy, as may be imagined, + for beasts and human beings lived here together. + </p> + <p> + The man—Vasilli Tula—threw himself down on his knees, clawing + at Paul’s coat with great unwashed hands, whining out a tale of + sorrow and misfortune. In a moment they were all on their knees, clinging + to him, crying to him for help: Tula himself, a wild-looking Slav of fifty + or thereabouts; his wife, haggard, emaciated, horrible to look upon, for + she was toothless and almost blind; two women and a loutish boy of + sixteen. + </p> + <p> + Paul pushed his way, not unkindly, toward the corner where the two + motionless forms lay half concealed by a mass of ragged sheepskin. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” he said, “this woman is dead. Take her out. When + will you learn to be clean? This boy may live—with care. Bring the + light closer, little mother. So, it is well. He will live. Come, don’t + sit crying. Take all these rags out and burn them. All of you go out. It + is a fine night. You are better in the cart-shed than here. Here, you, + Tula, go round with the starosta to his store. He will give you clean + blankets.” + </p> + <p> + They obeyed him blindly. Tula and one of the young women (his daughters) + dragged the dead body, which was that of a very old woman, out into the + night. The starosta had retired to the door-way when the lamp was lighted, + his courage having failed him. The air was foul with the reek of smoke and + filth and infection. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Vasilli Tula,” the village elder said, with suspicious + eagerness. “Come with me, I will give you what the good doctor says. + Though you owe me money, and you never try to pay me.” + </p> + <p> + But Tula was kissing and mumbling over the hem of Paul’s coat. Paul + took no notice of him. + </p> + <p> + “We are starving, Excellency,” the man was saying. “I + can get no work. I had to sell my horse in the winter, and I cannot plough + my little piece of land. The Government will not help us. The Prince—curse + him!—does nothing for us. He lives in Petersburg, where he spends + all his money, and has food and wine more than he wants. The Count Stipan + Lanovitch used to assist us—God be with him! But he has been sent to + Siberia because he helped the peasants. He was like you; he was a great + barin, a great noble, and yet he helped the peasants.” + </p> + <p> + Paul turned round sharply and shook the man off. + </p> + <p> + “Go,” he said, “with the starosta and get what I tell + you. A great, strong fellow like you has no business on his knees to any + man! I will not help you unless you help yourself. You are a lazy + good-for-nothing. Get out!” + </p> + <p> + He pushed him out of the hut, and kicked after him a few rags of clothing + which were lying about on the floor, all filthy and slimy. + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” muttered he under his breath, in English, “that + a place like this should exist beneath the very walls of Osterno!” + </p> + <p> + From hut to hut he went all through that night on his mission of mercy—without + enthusiasm, without high-flown notions respecting mankind, but with the + simple sense of duty that was his. These people were his things—his + dumb and driven beasts. In his heart there may have existed a grudge + against the Almighty for placing him in a position which was not only + intensely disagreeable, but also somewhat ridiculous. For he did not dare + to tell his friends of these things. He had spoken of them to no man + except Karl Steinmetz, who was in a sense his dependent. English public + school and university had instilled into him the intensely British feeling + of shame respecting good works. He could take chaff as well as any man, + for he was grave by habit, and a grave man receives the most chaff most + good-humoredly. But he had a nervous dread of being found out. He had made + a sort of religion of suppressing the fact that he was a prince; the holy + of holies of this cult was the fact that he was a prince who sought to do + good to his neighbor—a prince in whom one might repose trust. + </p> + <p> + This was not the first time by any number that he had gone down into his + own village insisting in a rough-and-ready way on cleanliness and purity. + </p> + <p> + “The Moscow doctor”—the peasants would say in the kabak + over their vodka and their tea—“the Moscow doctor comes in and + kicks our beds out of the door. He comes in and throws our furniture into + the street But afterward he gives us new beds and new furniture.” + </p> + <p> + It was a joke that always obtained in the kabak. It flavored the vodka, + and with that fiery poison served to raise a laugh. + </p> + <p> + The Moscow doctor was looked upon in Osterno and in many neighboring + villages as second only to God. In fact, many of the peasants placed him + before their Creator. They were stupid, vodka-soddened, hapless men. The + Moscow doctor they could see for themselves. He came in, a very tangible + thing of flesh and blood, built on a large and manly scale; he took them + by the shoulders and bundled them out of their own houses, kicking their + bedding after them. He scolded them, he rated them and abused them. He + brought them food and medicine. He understood the diseases which from time + to time swept over their villages. No cold was too intense for him to + brave should they be in distress. He asked no money, and he gave none. But + they lived on his charity, and they were wise enough to know it. + </p> + <p> + What wonder if these poor wretches loved the man whom they could see and + hear above the God who manifested himself to them in no way! The orthodox + priests of their villages had no money to spend on their parishioners. On + the contrary, they asked for money to keep the churches in repair. What + wonder, then, if these poor ignorant, helpless peasants would listen to no + priest; for the priest could not explain to them why it was that God sent + a four-month-long winter which cut them off from the rest of the world + behind impassable barriers of snow; that God sent them droughts in the + summer so that there was no crop of rye; that God scourged them with dread + and horrible disease! + </p> + <p> + It is almost impossible for us to realize, in these days of a lamentably + cheap press and a cheaper literature, the mental condition of men and + women who have no education, no newspaper, no news of the world, no + communication with the universe. To them the mystery of the Moscow doctor + was as incomprehensible as to us is the Deity. They were so near to the + animals that Paul could not succeed in teaching them that disease and + death followed on the heels of dirt and neglect. They were too ignorant to + reason, too low down the animal scale to comprehend things which some of + the dumb animals undoubtedly recognize. + </p> + <p> + Paul Alexis, half Russian, half English, understood these people very + thoroughly. He took advantage of their ignorance, their simplicity, their + unfathomable superstition. He governed as no other could have ruled them, + by fear and kindness at once. He mastered them by his vitality, the + wholesome strength of his nature, his infinite superiority. He avoided the + terrible mistake of the Nihilists by treating them as children to whom + education must be given little by little instead of throwing down before + them a mass of dangerous knowledge which their minds, unaccustomed to such + strong food, are incapable of digesting. + </p> + <p> + A British coldness of blood damped as it were the Russian quixotism which + would desire to see result follow upon action—to see the world make + quicker progress than its Creator has decreed. With very unsatisfactory + material Paul was setting in motion a great rock which will roll down into + the ages unconnected with his name, clearing a path through a very thick + forest of ignorance and tyranny. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI — CATRINA + </h2> + <p> + The man who carries a deceit, however innocent, with him through life is + apt to be somewhat handicapped in that unfair competition. He is like a + ship at sea with a “sprung” mainmast. A side breeze may arise + at any moment which throws him all aback and upon his beam-ends. He runs + illegitimate risks, which are things much given to dragging at a man’s + mind, handicapping his thoughts. + </p> + <p> + Paul suffered in this way. It was a distinct burthen to him to play a + double part, although each was innocent enough in itself. At school, and + later on at the ‘Varsity, he had consistently and steadily + suppressed a truth from friend and foe alike—namely, that he was in + his own country a prince. No great crime on the face of it; but a constant + suppression of a very small truth is as burdensome as any suggestion of + falsehood. It makes one afraid of contemptible foes, and doubtful of the + value of one’s own friendship. + </p> + <p> + Paul was a simple-minded man. He was not afraid of the Russian Government. + Indeed, he cultivated a fine contempt for that august body. But he was + distinctly afraid of being found out, for that discovery could only mean + an incontinent cessation of the good work which rendered his life happy. + </p> + <p> + The fear of being deprived of this interest in existence should certainly + have been lessened, if not quite allayed, by the fact that a greater + interest had been brought into his life in the pleasant form of a + prospective wife. When he was in London with Etta Sydney Bamborough he did + not, however, forget Osterno. He only longed for the time when he could + take Etta freely into his confidence and engage her interest in the object + of his ambition—namely, to make the huge Osterno estate into that + lump of leaven which might in time leaven the whole of the empire. + </p> + <p> + That a man is capable of sustaining two absorbing interests at once is a + matter of every-day illustration. Are we not surrounded by men who do + their work well in life, and love their wives well at home, without + allowing the one to interfere with the other? That women are capable of + the same seems exceedingly probable. But we are a race of sheep who run + after each other, guided for the moment by a catchword which will not bear + investigation, or an erroneous deduction set in alliterative verse which + clings to the mind and sways it. Thus we all think that woman’s + whole existence is, and is only capable of, love, because a poet, in the + trickiness of his trade, once said so. + </p> + <p> + Now, Paul held a different opinion. He thought that Etta could manage to + love him well, as she said she did, and yet take an interest in that which + was in reality the object of his life. He intended to take the earliest + opportunity of telling her all about the work he was endeavoring to carry + out at Osterno, and the knowledge that he was withholding something from + her was a constant burden to an upright and honest nature. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” he said one morning to Steinmetz, “that I + will write and tell Mrs. Sydney Bamborough all about this place.” + </p> + <p> + “I should not do that,” replied Steinmetz with a leisurely + promptitude. + </p> + <p> + They were alone in a great smoking-room of which the walls were hung all + round with hunting trophies. Paul was smoking a post-prandial cigar. + Steinmetz reflected gravely over a pipe. They were both reading Russian + newspapers—periodicals chiefly remarkable for that which they leave + unsaid. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” asked Paul. + </p> + <p> + “On principle. Never tell a woman that which is not interesting + enough to magnify into a secret.” + </p> + <p> + Paul turned over his newspaper. He began reading again. Then, suddenly, he + looked up. + </p> + <p> + “We are engaged to be married,” he observed pointedly. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz took his pipe from his lips slowly and imperturbably. He was a + man to whom it was no satisfaction to impart news. He either knew it + before or did not take much interest in the matter. + </p> + <p> + “That makes it worse,” he said. “A woman only conceals + what is bad about her husband. If she knows anything that is likely to + make other women think that their husbands are inferior, she will tell it.” + </p> + <p> + Paul laughed. + </p> + <p> + “But this is not good,” he argued. “We have kept it so + confoundedly quiet that I am beginning to feel as if it is a crime.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz uncrossed his legs, crossed them again, and then spoke after + mature reflection: + </p> + <p> + “As I understand the law of libel, a man is punished, not for + telling a lie, but for telling either the truth or a lie with malicious + intent. I imagine the Almighty will take the intent into consideration, if + human justice finds it expedient to do so!” + </p> + <p> + Paul shrugged his shoulders. Argument was not his strong point, and, like + most men who cannot argue, he was almost impervious to the arguments of + others. He recognized the necessity for secrecy—the absolute need of + a thousand little secretive precautions and disguises which were intensely + disagreeable to him. But he also grumbled at them freely, and whenever he + made such objection Karl Steinmetz grew uneasy, as if the question which + he disposed of with facile philosophy or humorous resignation had behind + it a possibility and an importance of which he was fully aware. It was on + these rare occasions that he might have conveyed to a keen observer the + impression that he was playing a very dangerous game with a smiling + countenance. + </p> + <p> + “All that we do,” pursued Steinmetz, “is to bow to a + lamentable necessity for deceit. I have bowed to it all my life. It has + been my trade, perhaps. It is not our fault that we are placed in charge + of four or five thousand human beings who are no more capable of helping + themselves than are sheep. It is not our fault that the forefathers of + these sheep cut down the forests and omitted to plant more, so that the + flocks with whom we have to deal have no fuel. It is not our fault that a + most terrific winter annually renders the land unproductive for four + months. It is not our fault that the government to which we are forced to + bow—the Czar whose name lifts our hats from our heads—it is + not our fault that progress and education are taboo, and that all who + endeavor to forward the cause of humanity are promptly put away in a safe + place where they are at liberty to forward their own salvation and nothing + else. Nothing is our fault, mein lieber, in this country. We have to make + the best of adverse circumstances. We are not breaking any human law, and + in doing nothing we should be breaking a divine command.” + </p> + <p> + Paul flicked the ash off his cigar. He had heard all this before. Karl + Steinmetz’s words were usually more remarkable for solid + thoughtfulness than for brilliancy of conception or any great novelty of + expression. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Paul quietly, “I am not going to leave off. + You need not fear that. Only I shall have to tell my wife. Surely a woman + could help us in a thousand ways. There is such a lot that only a woman + understands.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” grunted Steinmetz; “and only the right sort of + woman.” + </p> + <p> + Paul looked up sharply. + </p> + <p> + “You must leave that to me,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “My very dear friend, I leave every thing to you.” + </p> + <p> + Paul smiled. + </p> + <p> + There was no positive proof that this was not strictly true. There was no + saying that Karl Steinmetz did not leave every thing to every-body. But + wise people thought differently. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know Etta,” he said, half shyly. “She + is full of sympathy and pity for these people.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz bowed gravely. + </p> + <p> + “I have no doubt of it.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet you say that she must not be told.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not. A secret is considerably strained if it be divided + between two people. Stretching it to three will probably break it. You can + tell her when you are married. Does she consent to live in Osterno?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes. I think so.” + </p> + <p> + “Um—m!” + </p> + <p> + “What did you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Um—m,” repeated Steinmetz, and the conversation + somewhat naturally showed signs of collapse. + </p> + <p> + At this moment the door was opened, and a servant in bright livery, with + powdered wig, silk stockings, and a countenance which might have been of + wood, brought in a letter on a silver tray. + </p> + <p> + Paul took the square envelope and turned it over, displaying as he did so + a coronet in black and gold on the corner, like a stamp. + </p> + <p> + Karl Steinmetz saw the coronet. He never took his quiet, unobtrusive + glance from Paul’s face while he opened the letter and read it. + </p> + <p> + “A fresh difficulty,” said Paul, throwing the note across to + his companion. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz looked grave while he unfolded the thick stationery. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Paul [the letter ran]: I hear you are at Osterno and that the + Moscow doctor is in your country. We are in great distress at Thors—cholera, + I fear. The fame of your doctor has spread to my people, and they are + clamoring for him. Can you bring or send him over? You know your room here + is always in readiness. Come soon with the great doctor, and also Herr + Steinmetz. In doing so you will give more than pleasure to your old + friend,” + </p> + <p> + Catrina Lanovitch. + </p> + <p> + “P.S. Mother is afraid to go out of doors for fear of infection. She + thinks she has a little cold.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz folded the letter very carefully, pressing the seam of it + reflectively with his stout forefinger and thumb. + </p> + <p> + “I always think of the lie first,” he said. “It’s + my nature or my misfortune. We can easily write and say that the Moscow + doctor has left.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, scratching his brow pensively with his curved forefinger. It is + to be feared that he was seeking not so much the truth as the most + convenient perversion of the same. + </p> + <p> + “But then,” he went on, “by doing that we leave these + poor devils to die in their—styes. Catrina cannot manage them. They + are worse than our people.” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever is the best lie to tell,” burst in Paul—“as + we seem to live in an atmosphere of them—I must go to Thors; that is + quite certain.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no must in the case,” put in Steinmetz quietly, as a + parenthesis. “No man is compelled to throw himself in the way of + infection. But I know you will go, whatever I say.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I shall,” admitted Paul. + </p> + <p> + “And Catrina will find you out at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz drew in his feet. He leant forward and knocked his pipe on one + of the logs that lay ready to light in the great open fire-place. + </p> + <p> + “Because she loves you,” he said shortly. “There is no + coming the Moscow doctor over her, mien lieber.” + </p> + <p> + Paul laughed rather awkwardly. He was one of the few men—daily + growing fewer—who hold that a woman’s love is not a thing to + be tossed lightly about in conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Then—” he began, speaking rather quickly, as if afraid + that Steinmetz was going to say more. “If,” he amended, + “you think she will find out, she must not see me, that is all.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz reflected again. He was unusually grave over this matter. One + would scarcely have taken this stout German for a person of any sentiment + whatever. Nevertheless he would have liked Paul to marry Catrina Lanovitch + in preference to Etta Sydney Bamborough, merely because he thought that + the former loved him, while he felt sure that the latter did not. So much + for the sentimental point of view—a starting-point, by the way, + which usually makes all the difference in a man’s life. For a man + needs to be loved as much as a woman needs it. From the practical point of + view, Karl Steinmetz knew too much about Etta to place entire reliance on + the goodness of her motives. He keenly suspected that she was marrying + Paul for his money—for the position he could give her in the world. + </p> + <p> + “We must be careful,” he said. “We must place clearly + before ourselves the risks that we are running before we come to any + decision. For you the risk is simply that of unofficial banishment. They + can hardly send you to Siberia because you are half an Englishman; and + that impertinent country has a habit of getting up and shouting when her + sons are interfered with. But they can easily make Russia impossible for + you. They can do you more harm than you think. They can do these poor + devils of peasants of yours more harm than we can comfortably contemplate. + As for me,” he paused and shrugged his great shoulders, “it + means Siberia. Already I am a suspect—a persona non grata.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not see how we can refuse to help Catrina,” said Paul, + in a voice which Steinmetz seemed to know, for he suddenly gave in. + </p> + <p> + “As you will,” he said. + </p> + <p> + He sat up, and, drawing a small table toward him, took up a pen + reflectively. Paul watched him in silence. + </p> + <p> + When the letter was finished, Steinmetz read it aloud: + </p> + <p> + “My Dear Catrina: + </p> + <p> + “The Moscow doctor and your obedient servant will be (D.V.) in Thors + by seven o’clock to-night. We propose spending about an hour in the + village, if you will kindly advise the starosta to be ready for us. As our + time is limited, and we are much needed in Osterno, we shall have to + deprive ourselves of the pleasure of calling at the castle. The prince + sends kind remembrances, and proposes riding over to Thors to avail + himself of your proffered hospitality in a day or two. With salutations to + the countess, + </p> + <p> + “Your old friend, + </p> + <p> + “Karl Steinmetz.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz waited with the letter in his hand for Paul’s approval. + “You see,” he explained, “you are notoriously + indifferent to the welfare of the peasants. It would be unnatural if you + suddenly displayed so much interest as to induce you to go to Thors on a + mission of charity.” + </p> + <p> + Paul nodded. “All right,” he said. “Yes, I see; though I + confess I sometimes forget what the deuce I <i>am</i> supposed to be.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz laughed pleasantly as he folded the letter. He rose and went to + the door. + </p> + <p> + “I will send it off,” he said. He paused on the threshold and + looked back gravely. “Do not forget,” he added, “that + Catrina Lanovitch loves you.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII — AT THORS + </h2> + <p> + Below the windows of a long, low, stone house, in its architecture + remarkably like a fortified farm—below these deep-embrasured windows + the river Oster mumbled softly. One of the windows was wide open, and with + the voice of the water a wonderful music rolled out to mingle and lose + itself in the hum of the pine-woods. + </p> + <p> + The room was a small one; beneath the artistic wall-paper one detected the + outline of square-hewn stones. There were women’s things lying + about; there were flowers in a bowl on a low, strong table. There were a + few good engravings on the wall; deep-curtained windows, low chairs, a + sofa, a fan. But it was not a womanly room. The music filling it, + vibrating back from the grim stone walls, was not womanly music. It was + more than manly. It was not earthly, but almost divine. It happened to be + Grieg, with the halting beat of a disabled, perhaps a broken, heart in it, + as that master’s music usually has. + </p> + <p> + The girl was alone in the room. The presence of any one would have + silenced something that was throbbing at the back of the chords. Quite + suddenly she stopped. She knew how to play the quaint last notes. She knew + something that no master had ever taught her. + </p> + <p> + She swung round on the stool and faced the light. It was afternoon—an + autumn afternoon in Russia—and the pink light made the very best of + a face which was not beautiful at all, never could be beautiful—a + face about which even the owner, a woman, could have no possible illusion. + It was broad and powerful, with eyes too far apart, forehead too broad and + low, jaw too heavy, mouth too determined. The eyes were almond-shaped, and + slightly sloping downward and inward—deep, passionate blue eyes set + in a Mongolian head. It was the face of a woman who could, morally + speaking, make mincemeat of nine young men out of ten. But she could not + have made one out of the number love her. For it has been decreed that + women shall win love—except in some happy exceptions—by beauty + only. The same unwritten law has it that a man’s appearance does not + matter—a law much appreciated by some of us, and duly canonized by + not a few. + </p> + <p> + The girl was evidently listening. She glanced at a little golden clock on + the mantel-piece, and then at the open window. She rose—she was + short, and somewhat broadly built—and went to the window. + </p> + <p> + “He will be back,” she said to herself, “in a few + minutes now.” + </p> + <p> + She raised her hand to her forehead, and pressed back her hair with a + little movement of impatience, expressive, perhaps, of a great suspense. + She stood idly drumming on the window-sill for a few moments; then, with a + quick little sigh, she went back to the piano. As she moved she gave a + jerk of the head from time to time, as schoolgirls who have too much hair + are wont to do. The reason of this nervous movement was a wondrous plait + of gold reaching far below her waist. Catrina Lanovitch almost worshipped + her own hair. She knew without any doubt that not one woman in ten + thousand could rival her in this feminine glory—knew it as + indubitably as she knew that she was plain. The latter fact she faced with + an unflinching, cold conviction which was not feminine at all. She did not + say that she was hideous, for the sake of hearing a contradiction or a + series of saving clauses. She never spoke of it to any one. She had grown + up with it, and as it was beyond doubt, so was it outside discussion. All + her femininity seemed to be concentrated, all her vanity centred, on her + hair. It was her one pride, perhaps her one hope. Women have been loved + for their voices. Catrina’s voice was musical enough, but it was + deep and strong. It was passionate, tender if she wished, fascinating; but + it was not lovable. If the voice may win love, why not the hair? + </p> + <p> + Catrina despised all men but one—that one she worshipped. She lived + night and day with one great desire, beside which heaven and hell were + mere words. Neither the hope of the one nor the fear of the other in any + way touched or affected her desire. She wanted to make Paul Alexis love + her; and, womanlike, she clung to the one womanly charm that was hers—the + wonderful golden hair. Pathetic, aye, pathetic—with a grin behind + the pathos, as there ever is. + </p> + <p> + She sat down at the piano, and her strong, small hands tore the heart out + of each wire. There are some people who get farther into a piano than + others, making the wires speak as with a voice. Catrina Lanovitch had this + trick. She only played a Russian people-song—a simple lay such as + one may hear issuing from the door of any kabak on a summer evening. But + she infused a true Russian soul into it—the soul that is cursed with + a fatal power of dumb and patient endurance. She did not sway from side to + side as do some people who lose themselves in the intoxication of music. + But she sat quite upright, her sturdy, square shoulders motionless. Her + strange eyes were fixed with the stillness of distant contemplation. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she stopped and leaped to her feet. She did not go to the window, + but stood listening beside the piano. The beat of a horse’s hoofs on + the narrow road was distinctly audible, hollow and sodden as is the sound + of a wooden road. It came nearer and nearer, and a certain unsteadiness + indicated that the horse was tired. + </p> + <p> + “I thought he might have come,” she whispered, and she sat + down breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + When the servant came into the room a few minutes later Catrina was at the + piano. + </p> + <p> + “A letter, mademoiselle,” said the maid. + </p> + <p> + “Lay it on the table,” answered Catrina, without looking + round. She was playing the closing bars of a nocturne. + </p> + <p> + She rose slowly, turned, and seized the letter as a starving man seizes + food. There was something almost wolf-like in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Steinmetz,” she exclaimed, reading the address. “Steinmetz. + Oh! why won’t he write to me?” + </p> + <p> + She tore open the letter, read it, and stood holding it in her hand, + looking out over the trackless pine-woods with absorbed, speculative eyes. + The sun had just set. The farthest ridge of pine-trees stood out like the + teeth of a saw in black relief on the rosy sky. Catrina Lanovitch watched + the rosiness fade into pearly gray. + </p> + <p> + “Madame the Countess awaits mademoiselle for tea,” said the + maid’s voice suddenly, in the gloom of the door-way. + </p> + <p> + “I will come.” + </p> + <p> + The village of Thors—twenty miles farther down the river Oster, + twenty miles nearer to the junction of that river with the Volga—was + little more than a hamlet in the days of which we write. Some day, + perhaps, the three hundred souls of Thors may increase and multiply—some + day when Russia is attacked by the railway fever. For Thors is on the + Chorno-Ziom—the belt of black and fertile soil that runs right + across the vast empire. + </p> + <p> + Karl Steinmetz, a dogged watcher of the Wandering Jew—the deathless + scoffer at our Lord’s agony, who shall never die, who shall leave + cholera in his track wherever he may wander—Karl Steinmetz knew that + the Oster was in itself a Wandering Jew. This river meandered through the + lonesome country, bearing cholera germs within its waters. Whenever + Osterno had cholera it sent it down the river to Thors, and so on to the + Volga. + </p> + <p> + Thors lay groaning under the scourge, and the Countess Lanovitch shut + herself within her stone walls, shivering with fear, begging her daughter + to return to Petersburg. + </p> + <p> + It was nearly dark when Karl Steinmetz and the Moscow doctor rode into the + little village, to find the starosta, a simple Russian farmer, awaiting + them outside the kabak. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz knew the man, and immediately took command of the situation with + that unquestioned sense of authority which in Russia places the barin on + much the same footing as that taken by the Anglo-Indian in our eastern + empire. + </p> + <p> + “Now, starosta,” he said, “we have only an hour to spend + in Thors. This is the Moscow doctor. If you listen to what he tells you, + you will soon have no sickness in the village. The worst houses first—and + quickly. You need not be afraid, but if you do not care to come in, you + may stay outside.” + </p> + <p> + As they walked down the straggling village-street the Moscow doctor told + the starosta in no measured terms, as was his wont, wherein lay the heart + of the sickness. Here, as in Osterno, dirt and neglect were at the base of + all the trouble. Here, as in the larger village, the houses were more like + the abode of four-footed beasts than the dwellings of human beings. + </p> + <p> + The starosta prudently remained outside the first house to which he + introduced the visitors. Paul went fearlessly in, while Steinmetz stood in + the door-way, holding open the door. + </p> + <p> + As he was standing there he perceived a flickering light approaching him. + The light was evidently that of an ordinary hand-lantern, and from the + swinging motion it was easy to divine that it was being carried by some + one who was walking quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Who is this?” asked Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + “It is likely to be the Countess Catrina, Excellency.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz glanced back into the cottage, which was dark save for the light + of a single petroleum lamp. Paul’s huge form could be dimly + distinguished bending over a heap of humanity and foul clothing in a + corner. + </p> + <p> + “Does she visit the cottages?” asked Steinmetz sharply. + </p> + <p> + “She does, God be with her! She has no fear. She is an angel. + Without her we should all be dead.” + </p> + <p> + “She won’t visit this, if I can help it,” muttered + Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + The light flickered along the road toward them. In the course of a few + minutes it fell on the stricken cottage, on the starosta standing in the + road, on Steinmetz in the door-way. + </p> + <p> + “Herr Steinmetz, is that you?” asked a voice, deep and + musical, in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “Zum Befehl,” answered Steinmetz, without moving. + </p> + <p> + Catrina came up to him. She was clad in a long dark cloak, a dark hat, and + wore no gloves. She brought with her a clean aromatic odor of + disinfectants. She carried the lantern herself, while behind her walked a + man-servant in livery, with a large basket in either hand. + </p> + <p> + “It is good of you,” she said, “to come to us in our + need—also to persuade the good doctor to come with you.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not much that we can do,” answered Steinmetz, taking + the small outstretched hand within his large soft grasp; “but that + little you may always count upon.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” she said gravely. + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him, expecting him to step aside and allow her to pass + into the cottage; but Steinmetz stood quite still, looking down at her + with his pleasant smile. + </p> + <p> + “And how is it with you?” he asked, speaking in German, as + they always did together. + </p> + <p> + She shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she answered indifferently, “I am well, of course. + I always am. I have the strength of a horse. Of course I have been + troubled about these poor people. It has been terrible. They are worse + than children. I cannot quite understand why God afflicts them so. They + have never done any harm. They are not like the Jews. It seems unjust. I + have been very busy, in my small way. My mother, you know, does not take + much interest in things that are not clean.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame the Countess reads French novels and the fictional + productions of some modern English ladies,” suggested Steinmetz + quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but she objects to honest dirt,” said Catrina coldly. + “May I go in?” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz did not move. + </p> + <p> + “I think not. This Moscow man is eccentric. He likes to do good sub + rosa. He prefers to be alone.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina tried to look into the cottage; but Karl Steinmetz, as we know, + was fat, and filled up the whole door-way. + </p> + <p> + “I should like to thank him for coming to us, or, at least, to offer + him hospitality. I suppose one cannot pay him.” + </p> + <p> + “No; one cannot pay him,” answered Steinmetz gravely. + </p> + <p> + There was a little pause. From the interior of the cottage came the + murmured gratitude of the peasants, broken at times by a wail of agony—the + wail of a man. It is not a pleasant sound to hear. Catrina heard it, and + it twisted her plain, strong face in a sudden spasm of sympathy. + </p> + <p> + Again she made an impatient little movement. + </p> + <p> + “Let me go in,” she urged. “I may be able to help.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Better not!” he said. “Besides, your life is too + precious to these poor people to run unnecessary risks.” + </p> + <p> + She gave a strange, bitter laugh. + </p> + <p> + “And what about you?” she said. “And Paul?” + </p> + <p> + “You never hear of Paul going into any of the cottages,” + snapped Steinmetz sharply. “For me it is different. You have never + heard that of Paul.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered slowly; “and it is quite right. His + life—it is different for him. How—how is Paul?” + </p> + <p> + “He is well, thank you.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz glanced down at her. She was looking across the plains beyond + the boundless pine forests that lay between Thors and the Volga. + </p> + <p> + “Quite well,” he went on, kindly enough. “He hopes to + ride over and pay his respects to the countess to-morrow or the next day.” + </p> + <p> + And the keen, kind eyes saw what they expected in the flickering light of + the lamp. + </p> + <p> + At this moment Steinmetz was pushed aside from within, and a hulking young + man staggered out into the road, propelled from behind with considerable + vigor. After him came a shower of clothes and bedding. + </p> + <p> + “Pah!” exclaimed Steinmetz, spluttering. “Himmel! What + filth! Be careful, Catrina!” + </p> + <p> + But Catrina had slipped past him. In an instant he had caught her by the + wrist. + </p> + <p> + “Come back!” he cried. “You must not go in there!” + </p> + <p> + She was just over the threshold. + </p> + <p> + “You have some reason for keeping me out,” she returned, + wriggling in his strong grasp. “I will—I will!” + </p> + <p> + With a twist she wrenched herself free and went into the dimly lighted + room. + </p> + <p> + Almost immediately she gave a mocking laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Paul!” she said. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII — UNMASKED + </h2> + <p> + For a moment there was silence in the hovel, broken only by the wail of + the dying man in the corner. Paul and Catrina faced each other—she + white and suddenly breathless, he half frowning. But he did not meet her + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Paul,” she said again, with a lingering touch on the name. + The sound of her voice, a rough sort of tenderness in her angry tone, made + Steinmetz smile in his grim way, as a man may smile when in pain. + </p> + <p> + “Paul, what did you do this for? Why are you here? Oh, why are you + in this wretched place?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you sent for me,” he answered quietly. “Come, + let us go out. I have finished here. That man will die. There is nothing + more to be done for him. You must not stay in here.” + </p> + <p> + She gave a short laugh as she followed him. He had to stoop low to pass + through the door-way. Then he turned and held out his hand, for fear she + should trip over the high threshold. She nodded her thanks, but refused + the proffered assistance. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz lingered behind to give some last instructions, leaving Paul and + Catrina to walk on down the narrow street alone. The moon was just rising—a + great yellow moon such as only Russia knows—the land of the silver + night. + </p> + <p> + “How long have you been doing this?” asked Catrina suddenly. + She did not look toward him, but straight in front of her. + </p> + <p> + “For some years now,” he replied simply. + </p> + <p> + He lingered. He was waiting for Steinmetz, who always rose to such + emergencies, who understood secrets and how to secure them when they + seemed already lost. He did not quite understand what was to be done with + Catrina—how she was to be silenced. She had found him out with such + startling rapidity that he felt disposed to admit her right to dictate her + own terms. On a straight road this man was fearless and quick, but he had + no taste or capacity for crooked ways. + </p> + <p> + Catrina walked on in silence. She was not looking at the matter from his + point of view at all. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” she said at length, “of course, Paul, I + admire you for it immensely. It is just like you to go and do the thing + quietly and say nothing about it; but—oh, you must go away from + here. I—I—it is too horrible to think of your running such + risks. Rather let them all die like flies than that. You mustn’t do + it. You mustn’t.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke in English hurriedly, with a little break in her voice which he + did not understand. + </p> + <p> + “With ordinary precautions the risk is very small,” he said + practically. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But do you take ordinary precautions? Are you sure you are all + right now?” + </p> + <p> + She stopped. They were quite alone in the one silent street of the + stricken village. She looked up into his face. Her hands were running over + the breast of the tattered coat he wore. It was lamentably obvious, even + to him, that she loved him. In her anxiety she either did not know what + she was doing, or she did not care whether he knew or not. She merely gave + sway to the maternal instinct which is in the love of all women. She felt + his hands; she reached up and touched his face. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure—are you sure you have not taken it?” she + whispered. + </p> + <p> + He walked on, almost roughly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; quite,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I will not allow you to go into any more houses in Thors. I cannot—I + will not! Oh, Paul, you don’t know. If you do, I will tell them all + who you are, and—and the Government will stop you.” + </p> + <p> + “What would be the good of that?” said Paul awkwardly. “Your + father cared for his peasants, and was content to run risks for them. I + suppose you care about them, too, as you go into their houses.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but—” + </p> + <p> + She paused, gave a strange little reckless laugh, and was silent. Heaven + forbid that we should say that she wanted him to know that she loved him. + Chivalry bids us believe that women guard the secret of their love + inviolate from the world. But what was Catrina to do? Men are in the habit + of forgetting that plain women are women at all. Surely some of them may + be excused for reminding us at times that they also are capable of loving—that + they also desire to be loved. Happy is the man who loves and is loved of a + plain woman; for she will take her own lack of beauty into consideration, + and give him more than most beautiful women have it in their power to + give. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” Catrina went on, with a sudden anger which + surprised herself, “I cannot stop you from doing this at Osterno, + though I think it is wicked; but I can prevent you from doing it here, and + I certainly shall!” + </p> + <p> + Paul shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “As you like,” he said. “I thought you cared more about + the peasants.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not care a jot about the peasants,” she answered + passionately, “as compared—It is you I am thinking about, not + them. I think you are selfish, and cruel to your friends.” + </p> + <p> + “My friends have never shown that they are consumed with anxiety on + my account.” + </p> + <p> + “That is mere prevarication. Leave that to Herr Steinmetz and such + men, whose business it is; you don’t do it well. Your friends may + feel a lot that they do not show.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke the words shortly and sharply. Surreptitious good is so rare, + that when it is found out it very naturally gets mixed up with secret + evil, and the perpetrator of the hidden good deed feels guilty of a crime. + Paul was in this lamentable position, which he proceeded to further + aggravate by seeking to excuse himself. + </p> + <p> + “I did it after mature consideration. I tried paying another man, + but he shirked his work and showed the white feather; so Steinmetz and I + concluded that there was nothing to be done but do our dirty work + ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Which, being translated, means that you do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me. Steinmetz does his share.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina Lanovitch was essentially a woman, despite her somewhat masculine + frame. She settled Karl Steinmetz’s account with a sniff of + contempt. + </p> + <p> + “And that is why you have been so fond of Osterno the last two + years?” she asked innocently. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered, falling into the trap. + </p> + <p> + Catrina winced. One does not wince the less because the pain is expected. + The girl had the Slav instinct of self-martyrdom, which makes Russians so + very different from the pleasure-loving nations of Europe. + </p> + <p> + “Only that?” she enquired. + </p> + <p> + Paul glanced down at her. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered quietly. + </p> + <p> + They walked on in silence for a few moments. Paul seemed tacitly to have + given up the idea of visiting any more of the stricken cottages. They were + going toward the long old house, which was called the castle more by + courtesy than by right. + </p> + <p> + “How long are you going to stay in Osterno?” asked Catrina at + length. + </p> + <p> + “About a fortnight; I cannot stay longer. I am going to be married.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina stopped dead. She stood for a moment looking at the ground with a + sort of wonder in her eyes, not pleasant to see. It was the look of one + who, having fallen from a great height, is not quite sure whether it means + death or not. Then she walked on. + </p> + <p> + “I congratulate you,” she said. “I only hope she will + make you happy. She is—beautiful, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Paul simply. + </p> + <p> + The girl nodded her head. + </p> + <p> + “What is her name?” + </p> + <p> + “Etta Sydney Bamborough.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina had evidently never heard the name before. It conveyed nothing to + her. Womanlike, she went back to her first question. + </p> + <p> + “What is she like?” + </p> + <p> + Paul hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Tall, I suppose?” suggested the stunted woman at his side. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And graceful?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Has she—pretty hair?” asked Catrina. + </p> + <p> + “I think so—yes.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not observant,” said the girl in a singularly even + and emotionless voice. “Perhaps you never noticed.” + </p> + <p> + “Not particularly,” answered Paul. + </p> + <p> + The girl raised her face. There was a painful smile twisting her lips. The + moonlight fell upon her; the deep shadows beneath the eyes made her face + wear a grin. Some have seen such a grin on the face of a drowning man—a + sight not to be forgotten. + </p> + <p> + “Where does she live?” asked Catrina. She was unaware of the + thought of murder that was in her own heart. Nevertheless, the desire—indefinite, + shapeless—was there to kill this woman, who was tall and beautiful, + whom Paul Alexis loved. + </p> + <p> + It must be remembered in extenuation that Catrina Lanovitch had lived + nearly all her life in the province of Tver. She was not modern at all. + Deprived of the advantages of our enlightened society press, without the + benefit of our decadent fictional literature, she had lamentably narrow + views of life. She was without that deep philosophy which teaches you, + mademoiselle, who read this guileless tale, that nothing matters very + much; that love is but a passing amusement, the plaything of an hour; that + if Tom is faithless, Dick is equally amusing; while Harry’s taste in + gloves and compliments is worthy of some consideration. That these things + be true—that at all events the modern young lady thinks them true—is + a matter of no doubt whatever. Has not the modern lady novelist told us + so? And is not the modern lady novelist notable for her close observation + of human nature, her impartial judgment of human motives, her sublime + truth of delineation when she sits down to describe the thing she calls a + man? By a close study of the refined feminine literature of the day the + modern young lady acquires not only the knowledge of some startling social + delinquencies—retailed, not as if they were quite the exception, but + as if they were quite the correct thing—but also she will learn that + she is human. She will realize how utterly absurd it is to attempt to be + any thing else. If persons in books, she will reflect, are not high-minded + or pure-minded, or even clean-minded, it is useless for an ordinary person + out of a book to attempt to be any of these. + </p> + <p> + This is the lesson of some new writers, and Catrina Lanovitch had, + fortunately enough, lacked the opportunity of learning it. + </p> + <p> + She only knew that she loved Paul, and that what she wanted was Paul’s + love to go with her all through her life. She was not self-analytical, nor + subtle, nor given to thinking about her own thoughts. Perhaps she was + old-fashioned enough to be romantic. If this be so, we must bear with her + romance, remembering that, at all events, romance serves to elevate, while + realism tends undoubtedly toward deterioration. + </p> + <p> + Catrina hated Etta Sydney Bamborough with a simple half-barbaric hatred + because she had gained the love of Paul Alexis. Etta had taken away from + her the only man whom Catrina could ever love all through her life. The + girl was simple enough, unsophisticated enough, never to dream of + compromise. She never for a moment entertained the cheap, consolatory + thought that in time she would get over it; she would marry somebody else, + and make that compromise which is responsible for more misery in this + world than ever is vice. In her great solitude, growing to womanhood as + she had in the vast forest of Tver, she had learned nearly all that she + knew from the best teacher, Nature; and she held the strange, effete + theory that it is wicked for a woman to marry a man she does not love, or + to marry at all for any reason except love. St. Paul and a few others held + like theories, but nous avons changi tout cela. + </p> + <p> + “Where does she live?” asked Catrina. + </p> + <p> + “In London.” + </p> + <p> + They walked on in silence for a few moments. They were walking slowly, and + they presently heard the footsteps of Karl Steinmetz and the servant close + behind them. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” said Catrina, half to herself, “whether she + loves you?” + </p> + <p> + It was a question, but not one that a man can answer. Paul said nothing, + but walked gravely on by the side of this woman, who knew that even if + Etta Sydney Bamborough should try she could never love him as she herself + did. + </p> + <p> + When Karl Steinmetz joined them they were silent. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” he said in English, “that we may rely upon + the discretion of the Fra|lein Catrina?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered the girl; “you may, so far as Osterno is + concerned. But I would rather that you did not visit our people here. It + is too dangerous in several ways.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” murmured Steinmetz, respectfully acquiescent. He was + looking straight in front of him, with an expression of countenance which + was almost dense. “Then we must bow to your decision,” he went + on, turning toward the tall man striding along at his side. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Paul simply. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz smiled grimly to himself. It was one of his half-cynical + theories that women hold the casting vote in all earthly matters, and when + an illustration such as this came to prove the correctness of his + deductions, he only smiled. He was not by nature a cynic—only by the + force of circumstances. + </p> + <p> + “Will you come to the castle?” asked the girl at length, and + Steinmetz by a gesture deferred the decision to Paul. + </p> + <p> + “I think not to-night, thanks,” said the latter. “We + will take you as far as the gate.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina made no comment. When the tall gate-way was reached she stopped, + and they all became aware of the sound of horses’ feet behind them. + </p> + <p> + “What is this?” asked Catrina. + </p> + <p> + “Only the starosta bringing our horses,” replied Steinmetz. + “He has discovered nothing.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina nodded and held out her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night,” she said, rather coldly. “Your secret is + safe with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Set a thief to catch a thief,” reflected Steinmetz. He said + nothing, however, when he shook hands. + </p> + <p> + They mounted their horses and rode back the way they had come. For half an + hour no one spoke. Then Paul broke the silence. He only said one word: + </p> + <p> + “D—n.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” returned Steinmetz quietly. “Charity is a + dangerous plaything.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV — A WIRE-PULLER + </h2> + <p> + The Palace of Industry—where, with a fine sense of the fitness of + the name, the Parisians amuse themselves—was in a blaze of electric + light and fashion. The occasion was the Concours Hippique, an ultra-equine + fjte, where the lovers of the friend of man, and such persons as are + fitted by an ungenerous fate with limbs suitable to horsey clothes, meet + and bow. In France, as in a neighboring land (less sunny), horsiness is + the last refuge of the diminutive. It is your small man who is ever the + horsiest in his outward appearance, just as it is your very plain young + person who is keenest at the Sunday-school class. + </p> + <p> + When a Frenchman is horsey he never runs the risk of being mistaken for a + groom or a jockey, as do his turfy compeers in England. His costume is so + exaggeratedly suggestive of the stable and the horse as to leave no doubt + whatever that he is an amateur of the most pronounced type. His collar is + so white and stiff and portentous as to make it impossible for him to + tighten up his own girths. His breeches are so breechy about the knees as + to render an ascent to the saddle a feat which it is not prudent to + attempt without assistance. His gloves are so large and seamy as to make + it extremely difficult to grasp the bridle, and quite impossible to buckle + a strap. Your French horseman is, in fact, rather like a knight of old, + inasmuch as his attendants are required to set him on his horse with his + face turned in the right direction, his bridle in his left hand, his whip + in his right, and, it is to be supposed, his heart in his mouth. When he + is once up there, however, the gallant son of Gaul can teach even some of + us, my fox-hunting masters, the way to sit a horse! + </p> + <p> + We have, however, little to do with such matters here, except in so far as + they affect the persons connected with this record. The Concours Hippique, + be it therefore known, was at its height. Great deeds of horsemanship had + been successfully accomplished. The fair had smiled beneath pencilled + eyebrows upon the brave in uniform and breeches. At the time when we join + the fashionable throng, the fair are smiling their brightest. It is, in + fact, an interval for refreshment. + </p> + <p> + A crowd of well-dressed men jostled each other good-naturedly around a + long table, where insolent waiters served tepid coffee, and sandwiches + that had been cut by the hand of a knave. In the background a number of + ladies nodded encouragement to their cavaliers in the intervals of + scrutinizing each other’s dresses. Many pencilled eyebrows were + raised in derision of too little style displayed by some innocent rival, + or brought down in disapproval of too much of the same vague quality + displayed by one less innocent. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of these, as in his element, moved the Baron Claude de + Chauxville, smiling his courteous, ready smile, which his enemies called a + grin. He took up less room than the majority of the men around him; he + succeeded in passing through narrower places, and jostled fewer people. In + a word, he proved to his own satisfaction, and to the discomfiture of many + a younger man, his proficiency in the gentle art of getting on in the + world. + </p> + <p> + Not far from him stood a stout gentleman of middle age, with a heavy fair + mustache brushed upward on either side. This man had an air of distinction + which was notable even in this assembly; for there were many distinguished + people present, and a Frenchman of note plays his part better than do we + dull, self-conscious islanders. This man looked like a general, so upright + was he, so keen his glance, so independent the carriage of his head. + </p> + <p> + He stood with his hands behind his back, looking gravely on at the social + festivity. He bowed and raised his hat to many, but he entered into + conversation with none. + </p> + <p> + “Ce Vassili,” he heard more than once whispered, “c’est + un homme dangereux.” + </p> + <p> + And he smiled all the more pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + Now, if a very keen observer had taken the trouble to ignore the throng + and watch two persons only, that observer might have discovered the fact + that Claude de Chauxville was slowly and purposely making his way toward + the man called Vassili. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville knew and was known of many. He had but recently arrived from + London. He found himself called upon to shake hands ` l’anglais with + this one and that, giving all and sundry his impressions of the perfidious + Albion with a verve and neatness truly French. He went from one to the + other with perfect grace and savoir-faire, and each change of position + brought him nearer to the middle-aged man with upturned mustache, upon + whom his movements were by no means lost. + </p> + <p> + Finally De Chauxville bumped against the object of his quest—possibly, + indeed, the object of his presence at the Concours Hippique. He turned + with a ready apology. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he exclaimed; “the very man I was desiring to see.” + </p> + <p> + The individual known as “ce Vassili”—a term of mingled + contempt and distrust—bowed very low. He was a plain commoner, while + his interlocutor was a baron. The knowledge of this was subtly conveyed in + his bow. + </p> + <p> + “How can I serve M. le Baron?” he enquired in a voice which + was naturally loud and strong, but had been reduced by careful training to + a tone inaudible at the distance of a few paces. + </p> + <p> + “By following me to the Cafi Tantale in ten minutes,” answered + De Chauxville, passing on to greet a lady who was bowing to him with the + labored grace of a Parisienne. + </p> + <p> + Vassili merely bowed and stood upright again. There was something in his + attitude of quiet attention, of unobtrusive scrutiny and retiring + intelligence, vaguely suggestive of the police—something which his + friends refrained from mentioning to him; for this Vassili was a dignified + man, of like susceptibilities with ourselves, and justly proud of the fact + that he belonged to the Corps Diplomatique. What position he occupied in + that select corporation he never vouchsafed to define. But it was known + that he enjoyed considerable emoluments, while he was never called upon to + represent his country or his emperor in any official capacity. He was + attached, he said, to the Russian Embassy. His enemies called him a spy; + but the world never puts a charitable construction on that of which it + only has a partial knowledge. + </p> + <p> + In ten minutes Claude de Chauxville left the Concours Hippique. In the + Champs Elysies he turned to the left, up toward the Bois du Boulogne; + turned to the left again, and took one of the smaller paths that lead to + one or other of the sequestered and somewhat select cafis on the south + side of the Champs Elysies. + </p> + <p> + At the Cafi Tantale—not in the garden, for it was winter, but in the + inner room—he found the man called Vassili consuming a pensive and + solitary glass of liqueur. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville sat down, stated his requirements to the waiter in a single + word, and offered his companion a cigarette, which Vassili accepted with + the consciousness that it came from a coroneted case. + </p> + <p> + “I am rather thinking of visiting Russia,” said the Frenchman. + </p> + <p> + “Again,” added Vassili, in his quiet voice. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville looked up sharply, smiled, and waved the word away with a + gesture of the fingers that held a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “If you will—again.” + </p> + <p> + “On private affairs?” enquired Vassili, not so much, it would + appear, from curiosity as from habit. He put the question with the + assurance of one who has a right to know. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville nodded acquiescence through the tobacco smoke. + </p> + <p> + “The bane of public men—private affairs,” he said + epigrammatically. + </p> + <p> + But the attachi to the Russian Embassy was either too dense or too clever + to be moved to a sympathetic smile by a cheap epigram. + </p> + <p> + “And M. le Baron wants a passport?” he said, lapsing into the + useful third person, which makes the French language so much more fitted + to social and diplomatic purposes than is our rough northern tongue. + </p> + <p> + “And more,” answered De Chauxville. “I want what you + hate parting with—information.” + </p> + <p> + The man called Vassili leaned back in his chair with a little smile. It + was an odd little smile, which fell over his features like a mask and + completely hid his thoughts. It was apparent that Claude de Chauxville’s + tricks of speech and manner fell here on barren ground. The Frenchman’s + epigrams, his method of conveying his meaning in a non-committing and + impersonal generality, failed to impress this hearer. The difference + between a Frenchman and a Russian is that the former is amenable to every + outward influence—the outer thing penetrates. The Russian, on the + contrary, is a man who works his thoughts, as it were, from internal + generation to external action. The action, moreover, is demonstrative, + which makes the Russian different from other northern nations of an older + civilization and a completer self-control. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Vassili, “if I understand M. le Baron + aright, it is a question of private and personal affairs that suggests + this journey to—Russia?” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely.” + </p> + <p> + “In no sense a mission?” suggested the other, sipping his + liqueur thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “In no sense a mission. I give you a proof. I have been granted six + months’ leave of absence, as you probably know.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely so, mo’ cher Baron.” Vassili had a habit of + applying to every one the endearing epithet, which lost a consonant + somewhere in his mustache. “When a military officer is granted a six + months’ leave, it is exactly then that we watch him.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville shrugged his shoulders in deprecation, possibly with + contempt for any system of watching. + </p> + <p> + “May one call it an affaire de coeur?” asked Vassili, with his + grim smile. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. Are not all private affairs such, one way or the other?” + </p> + <p> + “And you want a passport?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—a special one.” + </p> + <p> + “I will see what I can do.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you.” + </p> + <p> + Vassili emptied his glass, drew in his feet, and glanced at the clock. + </p> + <p> + “But that is not all I want,” said De Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + “So I perceive.” + </p> + <p> + “I want you to tell me what you know of Prince Pavlo Alexis.” + </p> + <p> + “Of Tver?” + </p> + <p> + “Of Tver. What you know from your point of view, you understand, my + dear Vassili. Nothing political, nothing incriminating, nothing official. + I only want a few social details.” + </p> + <p> + Again the odd smile fell over the dignified face. + </p> + <p> + “In case,” said Vassili, rather slowly, “I should only + impart to you stale news and valueless details with which you are already + acquainted, I must ask you to tell me first what you know—from your + point of view.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” answered De Chauxville, with engaging frankness. + “The man I know slightly is the sort of thing that Eton and Oxford + turn out by the dozen. Well dressed, athletic, silent, a thorough + gentleman—et voil` tout.” + </p> + <p> + The face of Vassili expressed something remarkably like disbelief. + </p> + <p> + “Ye—es,” he said slowly. + </p> + <p> + “And you?” suggested De Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + “You leave too much to my imagination,” said Vassili. “You + relate mere facts—have you no suppositions, no questions in your + mind about the man?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to know what his purpose in life may be. There is a purpose—one + sees it in his face. I want also to know what he does with his spare time; + he must have much to dispose of in England.” + </p> + <p> + Vassili nodded, and suddenly launched into detail. + </p> + <p> + “Prince Pavlo Alexis,” he said, “is a young man who + takes a full and daring advantage of his peculiar position. He defies many + laws in a quiet, persistent way which impresses the smaller authorities + and to a certain extent paralyzes them. He was in the Charity League—deeply + implicated. He had a narrow escape. He was pulled through by the cleverest + man in Russia.” + </p> + <p> + “Karl Steinmetz?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Vassili behind the rigid smile; “Karl + Steinmetz.” + </p> + <p> + “And that,” said De Chauxville, watching the face of his + companion, “is all you can tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “To be quite frank with you,” replied the man who had never + been quite frank in his life, “that is all I want to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville lighted a cigarette, with exaggerated interest in the match. + </p> + <p> + “Paul is a friend of mine,” he said calmly. “I may be + staying at Osterno with him.” + </p> + <p> + The rigid smile never relaxed. + </p> + <p> + “Not with Karl Steinmetz on the premises,” said Vassili + imperturbably. + </p> + <p> + “The astute Mr. Steinmetz may be removed to some other sphere of + usefulness. There is a new spoke in his Teutonic wheel.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Prince Paul is about to marry—the widow of Sydney Bamborough.” + </p> + <p> + “Sydney Bamborough,” repeated Vassili musingly, with a perfect + expression of innocence on his well-cut face. “I have heard that + name before.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville laughed quietly, as if in appreciation of a pretty trick + which he knew as well as its performer. + </p> + <p> + “She is a friend of mine.” + </p> + <p> + The attachi, as he was pleased to call himself, to the Russian Embassy, + leant his arms on the table, bending forward and bringing his large, + fleshy face within a few inches of De Chauxville’s keen countenance. + </p> + <p> + “That makes all the difference,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I thought it would,” answered De Chauxville, meeting the + steady gaze firmly. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV — IN A WINTER CITY + </h2> + <p> + St. Petersburg under snow is the most picturesque city in the world. The + town is at its best when a high wind has come from the north to blow all + the snow from the cupola of St. Isaac’s, leaving that golden dome, + in all its brilliancy, to gleam and flash over the whitened sepulchre of a + city. + </p> + <p> + In winter the Neva is a broad, silent thoroughfare between the Vassili + Ostrow and the Admiralty Gardens. In the winter the pestilential rattle of + the cobble-stones in the side streets is at last silent, and the merry + music of sleigh-bells takes its place. In the winter the depressing damp + of this northern Venice is crystallized and harmless. + </p> + <p> + On the English Quay a tall, narrow house stands looking glumly across the + river. It is a suspected house, and watched; for here dwelt Stipan + Lanovitch, secretary and organizer of the Charity League. + </p> + <p> + Although the outward appearance of the house is uninviting, the interior + is warm and dainty. The odor of delicate hot-house plants is in the + slightly enervating atmosphere of the apartments. It is a Russian fancy to + fill the dwelling-rooms with delicate, forced foliage and bloom. In no + country of the world are flowers so worshipped, is money so freely spent + in floral decoration. There is something in the sight, and more especially + in the scent of hot-house plants, that appeals to the complex siftings of + three races which constitute a modern Russian. + </p> + <p> + We, in the modest self-depreciation which is a national characteristic, + are in the habit of thinking, and sometimes saying, that we have all the + good points of the Angle and the Saxon rolled satisfactorily into one + Anglo-Saxon whole. We are of the opinion that mixed races are the best, + and we leave it to be understood that ours is the only satisfactory + combination. Most of us ignore the fact that there are others at all, and + very few indeed recognize the fact that the Russian of to-day is + essentially a modern outcome of a triple racial alliance of which the best + component is the Tartar. + </p> + <p> + The modern Russian is an interesting study, because he has the remnant of + barbaric tastes, with ultra-civilized facilities for gratifying the same. + The best part of him comes from the East, the worst from Paris. + </p> + <p> + The Countess Lanovitch belonged to the school existing in Petersburg and + Moscow in the early years of the century—the school that did not + speak Russian but only French, that chose to class the peasants with the + beasts of the field, that apparently expected the deluge to follow soon. + </p> + <p> + Her drawing-room, looking out on to the Neva, was characteristic of + herself. Camellias held the floral honors in vase and pot. The French + novel ruled supreme on the side-table. The room was too hot, the chairs + were too soft, the moral atmosphere too lax. One could tell that this was + the dwelling-room of a lazy, self-indulgent, and probably ignorant woman. + </p> + <p> + The countess herself in nowise contradicted this conclusion. She was + seated on a very low chair, exposing a slippered foot to the flame of a + wood fire. She held a magazine in her hand, and yawned as she turned its + pages. She was not so stout in person as her loose and somewhat highly + colored cheeks would imply. Her eyes were dull and sleepy. The woman was + an incarnate yawn. + </p> + <p> + She looked up, turning lazily in her chair, to note the darkening of the + air without the double windows. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she said aloud to herself in French, “when will it + be tea-time?” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke the words, the bells of a sleigh suddenly stopped with a + rattle beneath the window. + </p> + <p> + Immediately the countess rose and went to the mirror over the + mantel-piece. She arranged without enthusiasm her straggling hair, and put + straight a lace cap which was chronically crooked. She looked at her + reflection pessimistically, as well she might. It was the puffy red face + of a middle-aged woman given to petty self-indulgence. + </p> + <p> + “While she was engaged in this discouraging pastime the door was + opened, and a maid came in with the air of one who has gained a trifling + advantage by the simple method of peeping. + </p> + <p> + “It is M. Steinmetz, Mme. la Comtesse.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Do I look horrible, Cilestine? I have been asleep.” + </p> + <p> + Cilestine was French, and laughed with all the charm of that tactful + nation. + </p> + <p> + “How can Mme. la Comtesse ask such a thing? Madame might be + thirty-five!” + </p> + <p> + It is to be supposed that the staff of angelic recorders have a separate + set of ledgers for French people, with special discounts attaching to + pleasant lies. + </p> + <p> + Madame shook her head—and believed. + </p> + <p> + “M. Steinmetz is even now taking off his furs in the hall,” + said Cilestine, retiring toward the door. + </p> + <p> + “It is well. We shall want tea.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz came into the room with an exaggerated bow and a twinkle in his + melancholy eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Figure to yourself, my dear Steinmetz,” said the countess + vivaciously. “Catrina has gone out—on a day like this! Mon + Dieu! How gray, how melancholy!” + </p> + <p> + “Without, yes! But here, how different!” replied Steinmetz in + French. + </p> + <p> + The countess cackled and pointed to a chair. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you always flatter. What news have you, bad character?” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz smiled pensively, not so much suggesting the desire to impart as + the intention to withhold that which the lady called news. + </p> + <p> + “I came for yours, countess. You are always amusing—as well as + beautiful,” he added, with his mouth well controlled beneath the + heavy mustache. + </p> + <p> + The countess shook her head playfully, which had the effect of tilting her + cap to one side. + </p> + <p> + “I! Oh, I have nothing to tell you. I am a nun. What can one do—what + can one hear in Petersburg? Now in Paris it is different. But Catrina is + so firm. Have you ever noticed that, Steinmetz? Catrina’s firmness, + I mean. She wills a thing, and her will is like a rock. The thing has to + be done. It does itself. It comes to pass. Some people are so. Now I, my + clear Steinmetz, only desire peace and quiet. So I give in. I gave in to + poor Stipan. And now he is exiled. Perhaps if I had been firm—if I + had forbidden all this nonsense about charity—it would have been + different. And Stipan would have been quietly at home instead of in Tomsk, + is it, or Tobolsk? I always forget which. Well, Catrina says we must live + in Petersburg this winter, and—nous voil`!” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz shrugged his shoulders with a commiserating smile. He took the + countess’s troubles indifferently, as do the rest of us when our + neighbor’s burden does not drag upon our own shoulders. It suited + him that Catrina should be in Petersburg, and it is to be feared that the + feelings of the Countess Lanovitch had no weight as against the + convenience of Karl Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well!” he said, “you must console yourself with the + thought that Petersburg is the brighter for some of us. Who is this—another + visitor?” + </p> + <p> + The door was thrown open, and Claude de Chauxville walked into the room + with the easy grace which was his. + </p> + <p> + “Mme. la Comtesse,” he said, bowing over her hand. + </p> + <p> + Then he stood upright, and the two men smiled grimly at each other. + Steinmetz had thought that De Chauxville was in London. The Frenchman + counted on the other’s duties to retain him in Osterno. + </p> + <p> + “Pleasure!” said De Chauxville, shaking hands. + </p> + <p> + “It is mine,” answered Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + The countess looked from one to the other with a smile on her foolish + face. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she exclaimed; “how pleasant it is to meet old + friends! It is like by-gone times.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the door opened again and Catrina came in. In her rich furs + she looked almost pretty. + </p> + <p> + She shook hands eagerly with Steinmetz; her deep eyes searched his face + with a singular, breathless scrutiny. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you from?” she asked quickly. + </p> + <p> + “London.” + </p> + <p> + “Catrina,” broke in the countess, “you do not remember + M. de Chauxville! He nursed you when you were a child.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina turned and bowed to De Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + “I should have remembered you,” he said, “if we had met + accidentally. After all, childhood is but a miniature—is it not so?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” answered Catrina; “and when the miniature + develops it loses the delicacy which was its chief charm.” + </p> + <p> + She turned again to Steinmetz, as if desirous of continuing her + conversation with him. + </p> + <p> + “M. de Chauxville, you surely have news?” broke in the + countess’s cackling voice. “I have begged M. Steinmetz in + vain. He says he has none; but is one to believe so notorious a bad + character?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, it is wise to believe only that which is convenient. But + Steinmetz, I promise you, is the soul of honor. What sort of news do you + crave for? Political, which is dangerous; social, which is scandalous; or + court news, which is invariably false?” + </p> + <p> + “Let us have scandal, then.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I must refer you to the soul of honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Who,” answered Steinmetz, “in that official capacity is + necessarily deaf, and in a private capacity is naturally dull.” + </p> + <p> + He was looking very hard at De Chauxville, as if he was attempting to make + him understand something which he could not say aloud. De Chauxville, from + carelessness or natural perversity, chose to ignore the persistent eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Surely the news is from London,” he said lightly; “we + have nothing from Paris.” + </p> + <p> + He glanced at Steinmetz, who was frowning. + </p> + <p> + “I can hardly tell you stale news that comes from London via Paris, + can I?” he continued. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz was tapping impatiently on the floor with his broad boot. + </p> + <p> + “About whom—about whom?” cried the countess, clapping + her soft hands together. + </p> + <p> + “Well, about Prince Paul,” said De Chauxville, looking at + Steinmetz with airy defiance. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz moved a little. He placed himself in front of Catrina, who had + suddenly lost color. She could only see his broad back. The others in the + room could not see her at all. She was rather small, and Steinmetz hid her + as behind a screen. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he said to the countess, “his marriage! But Madame + the Countess assuredly knows of that.” + </p> + <p> + “How could she?” put in De Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + “The countess knew that Prince Paul was going to be married,” + explained Karl Steinmetz very slowly, as if he wished to give some one + time. “With such a man as he, ‘going to be’ is not very + far from being.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it is an accomplished fact?” said the countess sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday,” answered Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + “And you were not there!” exclaimed Countess Lanovitch, with + uplifted hands. + </p> + <p> + “Since I was here,” answered Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + The countess launched into a disquisition on the heinousness of marrying + any but a compatriot. The tone of her voice was sharp, and the volume of + her words almost amounted to invective. As Steinmetz was obviously not + listening, the lady imparted her views to the Baron de Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz waited for some time, then he turned slowly toward Catrina + without actually looking at her. + </p> + <p> + “It is dangerous,” he said, “to stay in this warm room + with your furs.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered, rather faintly; “I will go and take + them off.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz held the door open for her, but he did not look at her. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI — THE THIN END + </h2> + <p> + “But I confess I cannot understand why I should not be called the + Princess Alexis—there is nothing to be ashamed of in the title. I + presume you have a right to it?” + </p> + <p> + Etta looked up from her occupation of fixing a bracelet, with a little + glance of enquiry toward her husband. + </p> + <p> + They had been married a month. The honeymoon—a short one—had + been passed in the house of a friend, indeed a relation of Etta’s + own, a Scotch peer who was not above lending a shooting-lodge in Scotland + on the tacit understanding that there should be some quid pro quo in the + future. + </p> + <p> + In answer Paul merely smiled, affectionately tolerant of her bright + sharpness of manner. Your bright woman in society is apt to be keen at + home. What is called vivacity abroad may easily degenerate into snappiness + by the hearth. + </p> + <p> + “I think it is rather ridiculous being called plain Mrs. + Howard-Alexis,” added Etta, with a pout. + </p> + <p> + They were going to a ball—the first since their marriage. They had + just dined, and Paul had followed his wife into the drawing-room. He took + a simple-minded delight in her beauty, which was of the description that + is at its best in a gorgeous setting. He stood looking at her, noting her + grace, her pretty, studied movements. There were, he reflected, few women + more beautiful—none, in his own estimation, fit to compare with her. + </p> + <p> + She had hitherto been sweetness itself to him, enlivening his lonely + existence, shining suddenly upon his self-contained nature with a + brilliancy that made him feel dull and tongue-tied. + </p> + <p> + Already, however, he was beginning to discover certain small differences, + not so much of opinion as of thought, between Etta and himself. She + attached an importance to social function, to social opinion, to social + duties, which he in no wise understood. Invitations were showered upon + them. A man who is a prince and prefers to drop the title need not seek + popularity in London. The very respectable reader probably knows as well + as his humble servant, the writer, that in London there is always a social + circle just a little lower than one’s own which opens its doors with + noble, disinterested hospitality, and is prepared to lick the blacking + from any famous foot. + </p> + <p> + These invitations Etta accepted eagerly. Some women hold it little short + of a crime to refuse an invitation, and go through life regretting that + there is only one evening to each day. To Paul these calls were nothing + new. His secretary had hitherto drawn a handsome salary for doing little + more than refuse such. + </p> + <p> + It was in Etta’s nature to be somewhat carried away by glitter. A + great ball-room, brilliant illumination, music, flowers, and diamonds had + an effect upon her which she enjoyed in anticipation. Her eyes gleamed + brightly on reading the mere card of invitation. Some dull and + self-contained men are only to be roused by the clatter and whirl of a + battle-field, and this stirs them into brilliancy, changing them to new + men. Etta, always brilliant, always bright, exceeded herself on her + battle-field—a great social function. + </p> + <p> + Since their marriage she had never been so beautiful, her eyes had never + been so sparkling, her color so brilliant as at this moment when she asked + her husband to let her use her title. Hers was the beauty that blooms not + for one man alone, but for the multitude; that feeds not on the love of + one, but on the admiration of many. The murmur of the man in the street + who turned and stared into her carriage was more than the devotion of her + husband. + </p> + <p> + “A foreign title,” answered Paul, “is nothing in + England. I soon found that out at Eton and at Trinity. It was impossible + there. I dropped it, and I have never taken it up again.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you old stupid, and you have never taken the place you are + entitled to, in consequence.” + </p> + <p> + “What place? May I button that?” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks.” + </p> + <p> + She held out her arm while he, with fingers much too large for such dainty + work, buttoned her glove. + </p> + <p> + “The place in society,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Oh; does that matter? I never thought of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it matters,” answered the lady, with an astonished + little laugh. (It is wonderful what an importance we attach to that which + has been dearly won.) “Of course it matters,” answered Etta; + “more than—well, more than any thing.” + </p> + <p> + “But the position that depends upon a foreign title cannot be of + much value,” said the pupil of Karl Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + Etta shook her pretty head reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” she answered, “money makes a position of + its own, and every-body knows that you are a prince; but it would be + nicer, with the servants and every-body, to be a princess.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I cannot do it,” said Paul. + </p> + <p> + “Then there is some reason for it,” answered his wife, looking + at him sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there is.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “The reason is the responsibility that attaches to the very title + you wish to wear.” + </p> + <p> + The lady smiled, a little scornfully perhaps. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Your grubby old peasants, I suppose,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You remember, Etta, what I told you before we were married—about + the people, I mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” answered Etta, glancing at the clock and hiding a + little yawn behind her fan. + </p> + <p> + “I did not tell you all,” went on Paul, “partly because + it was inexpedient, partly because I feared it might bore you. I only told + you that I was vaguely interested in the peasants, and thought it would be + a good thing if they could be gradually educated into a greater + self-respect, a greater regard for cleanliness and that sort of thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear, I remember,” answered Etta, listlessly + contemplating her gloved hands. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I have not contented myself with thinking this during the + last two or three years. I have tried to put it into practice. Steinmetz + and I have lived at Osterno six months of the year on purpose to organize + matters on the estate. I was deeply implicated in the—Charity League—” + </p> + <p> + Etta dropped her fan with a clatter into the fender. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I hope it is not broken,” she gasped, with a singular + breathlessness. + </p> + <p> + “I do not think so,” replied Paul, picking up the fan and + returning it to her. “Why, you look quite white! What does it matter + if it is broken? You have others.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but—” Etta paused, opening the fan and examining + the sticks so closely that her face was hidden by the feathers. “Yes, + but I like this one. What is the Charity League, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “It was a large organization gotten up by the hereditary nobles of + Russia to educate the people and better their circumstances by + discriminate charity. Of course it had to be kept secret, as the + bureaucracy is against any attempt to civilize the people—against + education or the dissemination of news. The thing was organized. We were + just getting to work when some one stole the papers of the League from the + house of Count Stipan Lanovitch and sold them to the Government. The whole + thing was broken up; Lanovitch and others were exiled, I bolted home, and + Steinmetz faced the storm alone in Osterno. He was too clever for them, + and nothing was brought home to us. But you will understand that it is + necessary for us to avoid any notoriety, to live as quietly and privately + as possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course; but—” + </p> + <p> + “But what?” + </p> + <p> + “You can never go back to Russia,” said Etta slowly, feeling + her ground, as it were. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I can. I was just coming to that. I want to go back this + winter. There is so much to be done. And I want you to come with me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Paul. No, no! I couldn’t do that!” cried Etta, with + a ring of horror in her voice, strangely out of keeping with her peaceful + and luxurious surroundings. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” asked the man who had never known fear. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I should be afraid. I couldn’t. I hate Russia!” + </p> + <p> + “But you don’t know it.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Etta, turning away and busying herself with her + long silken train. “No, of course not. Only Petersburg, I mean. But + I have heard what it is. So cold and dismal and miserable. I feel the cold + so horribly. I wanted to go to the Riviera this winter. I really think, + Paul, you are asking me too much.” + </p> + <p> + “I am only asking a proof that you care for me.” + </p> + <p> + Etta gave a little laugh—a nervous laugh with no mirth in it. + </p> + <p> + “A proof! But that is so bourgeois and unnecessary. Haven’t + you proof enough, since I am your wife?” + </p> + <p> + Paul looked at her without any sign of yielding. His attitude, his whole + being, was expressive of that immovability of purpose which had hitherto + been concealed from her by his quiet manner. Steinmetz knew of the mental + barrier within this Anglo-Russian soul, against which prayer and argument + were alike unavailing. The German had run against it once or twice in the + course of their joint labors, and had invariably given way at once. + </p> + <p> + Etta looked at him. The color was coming back to her face in patches. + There was something unsteady in her eyes—something suggesting that + for the first time in her life she was daunted by a man. It was not Paul’s + speech, but his silence that alarmed her. She felt that trivial arguments, + small feminine reasons, were without weight. + </p> + <p> + “Now that you are married,” she said, “I do not think + you have any right to risk your life and your position for a fad.” + </p> + <p> + “I have done it with impunity for the last two or three years,” + he answered. “With ordinary precautions the risk is small. I have + begun the thing now; I must go on with it.” + </p> + <p> + “But the country is not safe for us—for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, it is,” answered Paul. “As safe as ever it has + been.” + </p> + <p> + Etta paused. She turned round and looked into the fire. He could not see + her face. + </p> + <p> + “Then the Ch—Charity League is forgotten?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered her husband quietly. “It will not be + forgotten until we have found out who sold us to the Government.” + </p> + <p> + Etta’s lips moved in a singular way. She drew them in and held them + with her teeth. For a moment her beautiful face wore a hunted expression + of fear. + </p> + <p> + “What will you gain by that?” she asked evenly. + </p> + <p> + “I? Oh, nothing. I do not care one way or the other. But there are + some people who want the man—very much.” + </p> + <p> + Etta drew in a long, deep breath. + </p> + <p> + “I will go to Osterno with you, if you like,” she said. + “Only—only I must have Maggie with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if you like,” answered Paul, in some surprise. + </p> + <p> + The clock struck ten, and Etta’s eyes recovered their brightness. + Womanlike, she lived for the present. The responsibility of the future is + essentially a man’s affair. The present contained a ball, and it was + only in the future that Osterno and Russia had to be faced. Let us also + give Etta Alexis her due. She was almost fearless. It is permissible to + the bravest to be startled. She was now quite collected. The even, + delicate color had returned to her face. + </p> + <p> + “Maggie is such a splendid companion,” she said lightly. + “She is so easy to please. I think she would come if you asked her, + Paul.” + </p> + <p> + “If you want her, I shall ask her, of course; but it may hinder us a + little. I thought you might be able to help us—with the women, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + There was a queer little smile on Etta’s face—a smile, one + might have thought, of contempt. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course,” she said. “It is so nice to be able to + do good with one’s money.” + </p> + <p> + Paul looked at her in his slow, grave way, but he said nothing. He knew + that his wife was cleverer and brighter than himself. He was simple enough + to think that this superiority of intellect might be devoted to the good + of the peasants of Osterno. + </p> + <p> + “It is not a bad place,” he said—“a very fine + castle, one of the finest in Europe. Before I came away I gave orders for + your rooms to be done up. I should like every thing to be nice for you.” + </p> + <p> + “I know you would, dear,” she answered, glancing at the clock. + (The carriage was ordered for a quarter-past ten.) “But I suppose,” + she went on, “that, socially speaking, we shall be rather isolated. + Our neighbors are few and far between.” + </p> + <p> + “The nearest,” said Paul quietly, “are the Lanovitches.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Who</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “The Lanovitches. Do you know them?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not,” answered Etta sharply. “But I seem to + know the name. Were there any in St. Petersburg?” + </p> + <p> + “The same people,” answered Paul; “Count Stipan + Lanovitch.” + </p> + <p> + Etta was looking at her husband with her bright smile. It was a little too + bright, perhaps. Her eyes had a gleam in them. She was conscious of being + beautifully dressed, conscious of her own matchless beauty, almost + dauntless, like a very strong man armed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think I am a model wife,” she said: “to give in + meekly to your tyranny; to go and bury myself in the heart of Russia in + the middle of winter—By the way, we must buy some furs; that will be + rather exciting. But you must not expect me to be very intimate with your + Russian friends. I am not quite sure that I like Russians”—she + went toward him, laying her two hands gently on his broad breast and + looking up at him—“not quite sure—especially Russian + princes who bully their wives. You may kiss me, however, but be very + careful. Now I must go and finish dressing. We shall be late as it is.” + </p> + <p> + She gathered together her fan and gloves, for she had petulantly dragged + off a pair which did not fit. + </p> + <p> + “And you will ask Maggie to come with us?” she said. + </p> + <p> + He held open the door for her to pass out, gravely polite even to his wife—this + old-fashioned man. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered; “but why do you want me to ask her?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I want her to come.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII — CHARITY + </h2> + <p> + In these democratic days a very democratic theory has exploded. Not so + very long ago we believed, or made semblance of belief, that it is useless + to put a high price upon a ticket with the object of securing that + selectness for which the high-born crave. “If they want to come,” + Lady Champignon (wife of Alderman Champignon) would say, “they do + not mind paying the extra half-guinea.” + </p> + <p> + But Lady Champignon was wrong. It is not that the self-made man cannot or + will not pay two guineas for a ball-ticket. It is merely that, in his + commercial way, he thinks that he will not have his money’s worth, + and therefore prefers keeping his two guineas to spend on something more + tangible—say food. The nouveau riche never quite purges his mind of + the instinct commercial, and it therefore goes against the grain to pay + heavily for a form of entertainment which his soul had not the opportunity + of learning to love in its youth. The aristocrat, on the other hand, has + usually been brought up to the cultivation of enjoyment, and he therefore + spends with perfect equanimity more on his pleasure than the bourgeois + mind can countenance. + </p> + <p> + The ball to which Paul and Etta were going was managed by some titled + ladies who knew their business well. The price of the tickets was + fabulous. The lady patronesses of the great Charity Ball were tactful and + unabashed. They drew the necessary line (never more necessary than it is + to-day) with a firm hand. + </p> + <p> + The success of the ball was therefore a foregone conclusion. In French + fiction there is invariably a murmur of applause when the heroine enters a + room full of people, which fact serves, at all events, to show the + breeding and social status of persons with whom French novelists are in + the habit of associating. There was therefore no applause when Paul and + Etta made their appearance, but that lady had, nevertheless, the + satisfaction of perceiving glances, not only of admiration, but of + interest and even of disapproval, among her own sex. Her dress she knew to + be perfect, and when she perceived the craning pale face of the inevitable + lady-journalist, peering between the balusters of a gallery, she + thoughtfully took up a prominent position immediately beneath that + gallery, and slowly turned round like a beautifully garnished joint before + the fire of cheap publicity. + </p> + <p> + To Paul this ball was much like others. There were a number of the friends + of his youth—tall, clean-featured, clean-limbed men, with a tendency + toward length and spareness—who greeted him almost affectionately. + Some of them introduced him to their wives and sisters, which ladies duly + set him down as nice but dull—a form of faint praise which failed to + damn. There were a number of ladies to whom it was necessary for him to + bow in acknowledgment of past favors which had missed their mark. From the + gallery the washed-out female journalists poked out their eager faces—for + they were women still, and liked to look upon a man when he was strong. + </p> + <p> + And all the while Karl Steinmetz was storming in his guttural English at + the door, upbraiding hired waiters for their stupidity in accepting two + literal facts literally. The one fact was that they were forbidden to + admit any one without a ticket; the second fact being that tickets were + not to be obtained at the price of either one or the other of the two + great motives of man—Love or Money. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz was Teutonic and imposing, with the ribbon of a great Order on + his breast. He mentioned the names of several ladies who might have been, + but were not, of the committee. Finally, however, he mentioned the + historic name of one whose husband had braved more than one Russian + emperor successfully for England. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, me lord, her ladyship’s here,” answered the man. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz wrote on a card, “In memory of ‘56, let me in,” + and sent in the missive. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later a stout, smiling lady came toward him with + outstretched hand. + </p> + <p> + “What mischief are you about?” she enquired, “you stormy + petrel! This is no place for your deep-laid machinations. We are here to + enjoy ourselves and found a hospital. Come in, however. I am delighted to + see you. You used to be a famous dancer—well, some little time ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear countess, let us say some little time ago. Ach, those + were days! those were days! You do not mind the liberty I have taken?” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad you took it. But your card gave me a little tug at the + heart. It brought back so much. And still plain Karl Steinmetz—after + all. We used to think much of you in the old days. Who would have thought + that all the honors would have slipped past you?” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz shrugged his shoulders with a heart-whole laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, what matter? Who cares, so long as my old friends remember me? + Who would have thought, my dear madam, that the map of Europe would have + been painted the colors it is to-day? It was a kaleidoscope—the + clatter of many stools, and I fell down between them all. Still plain Karl + Steinmetz—still very much at your service. Shall I send my check for + five guineas to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, do; I am secretary. Always businesslike; a wonderful man you + are still.” + </p> + <p> + “And you, my dear countess, a wonderful lady. Always gay, always + courageous. I have heard and sympathized. I have heard of many blows and + wounds that you have received in the battle we began—well, some + little time ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, don’t mention them! They hurt none the less because we + cover them with a smile, eh? I dare say you know. You have been in the + thick of the fight yourself. But you did not come here to chat with me, + though your manner might lead one to think so. I will not keep you.” + </p> + <p> + “I came to see Prince Pavlo,” answered Steinmetz. “I + must thank you for enabling me to do so. I may not see you again this + evening. My best thanks, my very dear lady.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed, and with his half-humorous, half-melancholy smile, left her. + </p> + <p> + The first face he recognized was a pretty one. Miss Maggie Delafield was + just turning away from a partner who was taking his congi, when she looked + across the room and saw Steinmetz. He had only met her once, barely + exchanging six words with her, and her frank, friendly bow was rather a + surprise to him. She came toward him, holding out her hand with an open + friendliness which this young lady was in the habit of bestowing upon men + and women impartially—upon persons of either sex who happened to + meet with her approval. She did not know what made her incline to like + this man, neither did she seek to know. In a quiet, British way Miss + Delafield was a creature of impulse. Her likes and dislikes were a matter + of instinct, and, much as one respects the doctrine of charity, it is a + question whether an instinctive dislike should be quashed by an + exaggerated sense of neighborly duty. Steinmetz she liked, and there was + an end to it. + </p> + <p> + “I was afraid you did not recognize me,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “My life has not so many pleasures that I can afford to forget one + of them,” replied Steinmetz, in his somewhat old-fashioned courtesy. + “But an old—buffer, shall I say?—hardly expects to be + taken much notice of by young ladies at a ball.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not ten minutes since Paul assured me that you were the best + dancer that Vienna ever produced,” said the girl, looking at him + with bright, honest eyes. + </p> + <p> + Karl Steinmetz looked down at her, for he was a tall man when Paul Alexis + was not near. His quiet gray eyes were almost affectionate. There was a + sudden sympathy between these two, and sudden sympathies are the best. + </p> + <p> + “Will you give an old man a trial?” he asked. “They will + laugh at you.” + </p> + <p> + She handed him her programme. + </p> + <p> + “Let them laugh!” she said. + </p> + <p> + He took the next dance, which happened to be vacant on her card. Almost + immediately the music began, and they glided off together. Maggie began + with the feeling that she was dancing with her own father, but this wore + off before they had made much progress through the crowd, and gave way to + the sensation that she had for partner the best dancer she had ever met, + gray-haired, stout, and middle-aged. + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to speak to you,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” Steinmetz answered. He was steering with infinite skill. + In that room full of dancers no one touched Maggie’s elbow or the + swing of her dress, and she, who knew what such things meant, smiled as + she noted it. + </p> + <p> + “I have been asked to go and stay at Osterno,” she said. + “Shall I go?” + </p> + <p> + “By whom?” + </p> + <p> + “By Paul.” + </p> + <p> + “Then go,” said Steinmetz, making one of the few mistakes of + his life. + </p> + <p> + “You think so—you want me to go?” + </p> + <p> + “Ach! you must not put it like that. How well you dance—colossal! + But it does not affect me—your going, fra|lein.” + </p> + <p> + “Since you will be there?” + </p> + <p> + “Does that make a difference, my dear young lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it does.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder why.” + </p> + <p> + “So do I,” answered Maggie frankly. “I wonder why. I + have been wondering why, ever since Paul asked me. If you had not been + going I should have said ‘No’ at once.” + </p> + <p> + Karl Steinmetz laughed quietly. + </p> + <p> + “What do I represent?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Safety,” she replied at once. + </p> + <p> + She gave a queer little laugh and went on dancing. + </p> + <p> + “And Paul?” he said, after a little while. + </p> + <p> + “Strength,” replied Maggie promptly. + </p> + <p> + He looked down at her—a momentary glance of wonder. He was like a + woman, inasmuch as he judged a person by a flicker of the eyelids—a + glance, a silence—in preference to judging by the spoken word. + </p> + <p> + “Then with us both to take care of you, may we hope that you will + brave the perils of Osterno? Ah—the music is stopping.” + </p> + <p> + “If I may assure my mother that there are no perils.” + </p> + <p> + Something took place beneath the gray mustache—a smile or a pursing + up of the lips in doubt. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I cannot go so far as that. You may assure Lady Delafield that + I will protect you as I would my own daughter. If—well, if the good + God in heaven had not had other uses for me I should have had a daughter + of your age. Ach! the music has stopped. The music always does stop, Miss + Delafield; that is the worst of it. Thank you for dancing with an old + buffer.” + </p> + <p> + He took her back to her chaperon, bowed in his old-world way to both + ladies, and left them. + </p> + <p> + “If I can help it, my very dear young friend,” he said to + himself as he crossed the room, looking for Paul, “you will not go + to Osterno.” + </p> + <p> + He found Paul talking to two men. + </p> + <p> + “You here!” said Paul, in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Steinmetz, shaking hands. “I gave Lady + Fontain five guineas to let me in, and now I want a couple of chairs and a + quiet corner, if the money includes such.” + </p> + <p> + “Come up into the gallery,” replied Paul. + </p> + <p> + A certain listlessness which had been his a moment before vanished when + Paul recognized his friend. He led the way up the narrow stairs. In the + gallery they found a few people—couples seeking, like themselves, a + rare solitude. + </p> + <p> + “What news?” asked Paul, sitting down. + </p> + <p> + “Bad!” replied Steinmetz. “We have had the misfortune to + make a dangerous enemy—Claude de Chauxville.” + </p> + <p> + “Claude de Chauxville,” repeated Paul. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He wanted to marry your wife—for her money.” + </p> + <p> + Paul leaned forward and dragged at his great fair mustache. He was not a + subtle man, analyzing his own thoughts. Had he been, he might have + wondered why he was not more jealous in respect to Etta. + </p> + <p> + “Or,” went on Steinmetz, “it may have been—the + other thing. It is a singular thing that many men incapable of a lifelong + love, can conceive a lifelong hatred based on that love. Claude de + Chauxville has hated me all his life; for very good reasons, no doubt. You + are now included in his antipathy because you married madame.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say,” replied Paul carelessly. “But I am not + afraid of Claude de Chauxville, or any other man.” + </p> + <p> + “I am,” said Steinmetz. “He is up to some mischief. I + was calling on the Countess Lanovitch in Petersburg when in walked Claude + de Chauxville. He was constrained at the sight of my stout person, and + showed it, which was a mistake. Now, what is he doing in Petersburg? He + has not been there for ten years, at least. He has no friends there. He + revived a minute acquaintance with the Countess Lanovitch, who is a fool + of the very first water. Before I came away I heard from Catrina that he + had wheedled an invitation to Thors out of the old lady. Why, my friend, + why?” + </p> + <p> + Paul reflected, with a frown. + </p> + <p> + “We do not want him out there,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No; and if he goes there you must remain in England this winter.” + </p> + <p> + Paul looked up sharply. + </p> + <p> + “I do not want to do that. It is all arranged,” he said. + “Etta was very much against going at first, but I persuaded her to + do so. It would be a mistake not to go now.” + </p> + <p> + Looking at him gravely, Steinmetz muttered, “I advise you not to go.” + </p> + <p> + Paul shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” he said. “It is too late now. Besides, I + have invited Miss Delafield, and she has practically accepted.” + </p> + <p> + “Does that matter?” asked Steinmetz quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I do not want her to think that I am a changeable sort of + person.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz rose, and standing with his two hands on the marble rail he + looked down into the room below. The music of a waltz was just beginning, + and some of the more enthusiastic spirits had already begun dancing, + moving in and out among the uniforms and gay dresses. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said resignedly; “it is as you will. There is + a certain pleasure in outwitting De Chauxville. He is so d—d clever!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII — IN THE CHAMPS ILYSIES + </h2> + <p> + “You must accept,” Steinmetz repeated to Paul. “There is + no help for it. We cannot afford to offend Vassili, of all people in the + world.” + </p> + <p> + They were standing together in the saloon of a suite of rooms assigned for + the time to Paul and his party in the Httel Bristol in Paris. Steinmetz, + who held an open letter in his hand, looked out of the window across the + quiet Place Vendtme. A north wind was blowing with true Parisian keenness, + driving before it a fine snow, which adhered bleakly to the northern face + of a column which is chiefly remarkable for the facility with which it + falls and rises again. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz looked at the letter with a queer smile. He held it out from him + as if he distrusted the very stationery. + </p> + <p> + “So friendly,” he exclaimed; “so very friendly! ‘Ce + bon Steinmetz’ he calls me. ‘Ce bon Steinmetz’—confound + his cheek! He hopes that his dear prince will waive ceremony and bring his + charming princess to dine quite en famille at his little pied ` terre in + the Champs Ilysies. He guarantees that only his sister, the marquise, will + be present, and he hopes that ‘Ce bon Steinmetz,’ will + accompany you, and also the young lady, the cousin of the princess.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz threw the letter down on the table, left it there for a moment, + and then, picking it up, he crossed the room and threw it into the fire. + </p> + <p> + “Which means,” he explained, “that M. Vassili knows we + are here, and unless we dine with him we shall be subjected to annoyance + and delay on the frontier by a stupid—a singularly and suspiciously + stupid—minor official. If we refuse, Vassili will conclude that we + are afraid of him. Therefore we must accept. Especially as Vassili has his + weak points. He loves a lord, ‘Ce Vassili.’ If you accept on + some of that stationery I ordered for you with a colossal gold coronet, + that will already be of some effect. A chain is as strong as its weakest + link. M. Vassili’s weakest link will be touched by your gorgeous + note-paper. If ce cher prince and la charmante princesse are gracious to + him, Vassili is already robbed of half his danger.” + </p> + <p> + Paul laughed. It was his habit either to laugh or to grumble at Karl + Steinmetz’s somewhat subtle precautions. The word “danger” + invariably made him laugh, with a ring in his voice which seemed to + betoken enjoyment. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” he said, “I leave these matters to you. Let + us show Vassili, at all events, that we are not afraid of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Then sit down and accept.” + </p> + <p> + That which M. Vassili was pleased to call his little dog-hole in the + Champs Ilysies was, in fact, a gorgeous house in the tawdry style of + modern Paris—resplendent in gray iron railings, and high gate-posts + surmounted by green cactus plants cunningly devised in cast iron. + </p> + <p> + The heavy front door was thrown open by a lackey, and others bowed in the + halls as if by machinery. Two maids pounced upon the ladies with the + self-assurance of their kind and country, and led the way upstairs, while + the men removed fur coats in the hall. It was all very princely and + gorgeous and Parisian. + </p> + <p> + Vassili and his sister the marquise—a stout lady in ruby velvet and + amethysts, who invariably caused Maggie Delafield’s mouth to twitch + whenever she opened her own during the evening—received the guests + in the drawing-room. They were standing on the white fur hearth-rug side + by side, when the doors were dramatically thrown open, and the servant + rolled the names unctuously over his tongue. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz, who was behind, saw everything. He saw Vassili’s masklike + face contract with stupefaction when he set eyes on Etta. He saw the + self-contained Russian give a little gasp, and mutter an exclamation + before he collected himself sufficiently to bow and conceal his face. But + he could not see Etta’s face for a moment or two—until the + formal greetings were over. When he did see it, he noted that it was as + white as marble. + </p> + <p> + “Aha! Ce bon Steinmetz!” cried Vassili, with less formality, + holding out his hand with frank and boyish good humor. + </p> + <p> + “Aha! Ce cher Vassili!” returned Steinmetz, taking the hand. + </p> + <p> + “It is good of you, M. le Prince, and you, madame, to honor us in + our small house,” said the marquise in a guttural voice such as one + might expect from within ruby velvet and amethysts. Thereafter she + subsided into silence and obscurity so far as the evening was concerned + and the present historian is interested. + </p> + <p> + “So,” said Vassili, with a comprehensive bow to all his guests—“so + you are bound for Russia. But I envy you—I envy you. You know + Russia, Mme. la Princesse?” + </p> + <p> + Etta met his veiled gaze calmly. + </p> + <p> + “A little,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + There was no sign of recognition in his eyes now, nor pallor on her face. + </p> + <p> + “A beautiful country, but the rest of Europe does not believe it. + And the estate of the prince is one of the vastest, if not the most + beautiful. It is a sporting estate, is it not, prince?” + </p> + <p> + “Essentially so,” replied Paul. “Bears, wolves, deer, + besides, of course, black game, capercailzie, ptarmigan—every thing + one could desire.” + </p> + <p> + “Speaking as a sportsman,” suggested Vassili gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Speaking as a sportsman.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course—” Vassili paused, and with a little gesture + of the hand included Steinmetz in the conversation. It may have been that + he preferred to have him talking than watching. “Of course, like all + great Russian landholders, you have your troubles with the people, though + you are not, strictly speaking, within the famine district.” + </p> + <p> + “Not quite; we are not starving, but we are hungry,” said + Steinmetz bluntly. + </p> + <p> + Vassili laughed, and shook a gold eye-glass chidingly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my friend, your old pernicious habit of calling a spade a + spade! It is unfortunate that they should hunger a little, but what will + you? They must learn to be provident, to work harder and drink less. With + such people experience is the only taskmaster possible. It is useless + talking to them. It is dangerous to pauperize them. Besides, the accounts + that one reads in the newspapers are manifestly absurd and exaggerated. + You must not, mademoiselle,” he said, turning courteously to Maggie, + “you must not believe all you are told about Russia.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not,” replied Maggie, with an honest smile which + completely baffled M. Vassili. He had not had much to do with people who + smiled honestly. + </p> + <p> + “Vrai!” he said, with grave emphasis; “I am not joking. + It is a matter of the strictest fact that fiction has for the moment fixed + its fancy upon my country—just as it has upon the East End of your + London. Mon Dieu! what a lot of harm fiction with a purpose can do!” + </p> + <p> + “But we do not take our facts from fiction in England,” said + Maggie. + </p> + <p> + “Nor,” put in Steinmetz, with his blandest smile, “do we + allow fiction to affect our facts.” + </p> + <p> + Vassili glanced at Steinmetz sideways. + </p> + <p> + “Here is dinner,” he said. “Mme. la Princesse, may I + have the honor?” + </p> + <p> + The table was gorgeously decorated; the wine was perfect; the dishes + Parisian. Every thing was brilliant, and Etta’s spirits rose. Such + little things affect the spirits of such little-minded women. It requires + a certain mental reserve from which to extract cheerfulness over a chop + and a pint of beer withal, served on a doubtful cloth. But some of us find + it easy enough to be witty and brilliant over good wine and a perfectly + appointed table. + </p> + <p> + “It is exile; it is nothing short of exile,” protested + Vassili, who led the conversation. “Much as I admire my own country, + as a country, I do not pretend to regret a fate that keeps me resident in + Paris. For men it is different, but for madame, and for you, mademoiselle—ach!” + He shrugged his shoulders and looked up to the ceiling in mute appeal to + the gods above it. “Beauty, brilliancy, wit—they are all lost + in Russia.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed to the princess, who was looking, and to Maggie, who was not. + </p> + <p> + “What would Paris say if it knew what it was losing?” he added + in a lower tone to Etta, who smiled, well pleased. She was not always able + to distinguish between impertinence and flattery. And indeed they are so + closely allied that the distinction is subtle. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz, on the left hand of the marquise, addressed one or two remarks + to that lady, who replied with her mouth full. He soon discovered that + that which was before her interested her more than any thing around, and + during the banquet he contented himself by uttering an exclamation of + delight at a particular flavor which the lady was kind enough to point out + to him with an eloquent and emphatic fork from time to time. + </p> + <p> + Vassili noted this with some disgust. He would have preferred that Karl + Steinmetz were greedy or more conversational. + </p> + <p> + “But,” the host added aloud, “ladies are so good. + Perhaps you are interested in the peasants?” + </p> + <p> + Etta looked at Steinmetz, who gave an imperceptible nod. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered, “I am.” + </p> + <p> + Vassili followed her glance, and found Steinmetz eating with grave + appreciation of the fare provided. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he said in an expectant tone; “then you will no + doubt pass much of your time in endeavoring to alleviate their troubles—their + self-inflicted troubles, with all deference to ce cher prince.” + </p> + <p> + “Why with deference to me?” asked Paul, looking up quietly, + with something in his steady gaze that made Maggie glance anxiously at + Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I understand that you hold different opinions,” said + the Russian. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” answered Paul. “I admit that the peasants + have themselves to blame—just as a dog has himself to blame when he + is caught in a trap.” + </p> + <p> + “Is the case analogous? Let me recommend those olives—I have + them from Barcelona by a courier.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite,” answered Paul; “and it is the obvious duty of + those who know better to teach the dog to avoid the places where the traps + are set. Thanks, the olives are excellent.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Vassili, turning courteously to Maggie, “I + sometimes thank my star that I am not a landholder—only a poor + bureaucrat. It is so difficult to comprehend these questions, + mademoiselle. But of all men in or out of Russia it is possible our dear + prince knows best of what he is talking.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” disclaimed Paul, with that gravity at which some + were ready to laugh. “I only judge in a small way from, a small + experience.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you are too modest. You know the peasants thoroughly, you + understand them, you love them—so, at least, I have been told. Is it + not so, Mme. la Princesse?” + </p> + <p> + Karl Steinmetz was frowning over an olive. + </p> + <p> + “I really do not know,” said Etta, who had glanced across the + table. + </p> + <p> + “I assure you, madame, it is so. I am always hearing good of you, + prince.” + </p> + <p> + “From whom?” asked Paul. + </p> + <p> + Vassili shrugged his peculiarly square shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! From all and sundry.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not know the prince had so many enemies,” said + Steinmetz bluntly, whereat the marquise laughed suddenly, and apparently + approached within bowing distance of apoplexy. + </p> + <p> + In such wise the conversation went on during the dinner, which was a long + one. Continually, repeatedly, Vassili approached the subject of Osterno + and the daily life in that sequestered country. But those who knew were + silent, and it was obvious that Etta and Maggie were ignorant of the life + to which they were going. + </p> + <p> + From time to time Vassili raised his dull, yellow eyes to the servants, + who d’ailleurs were doing their work perfectly, and invariably the + master’s glance fell to the glasses again. These the servants never + left in peace—constantly replenishing, constantly watching with that + assiduity which makes men thirsty against their will by reason of the + repeated reminder. + </p> + <p> + But tongues wagged no more freely for the choice vintages poured upon + them. Paul had a grave, strong head and that self-control against which + alcohol may ply itself in vain. Karl Steinmetz had taken his degree at + Heidelberg. He was a seasoned vessel, having passed that way before. + </p> + <p> + Etta was bright enough—amusing, light, and gay—so long as it + was a question of mere social gossip; but whenever Vassili spoke of the + country to which he expressed so deep a devotion, she, seeming to take her + cue from her husband and his agent, fell to pleasant, non-committing + silence. + </p> + <p> + It was only after dinner, in the drawing-room, while musicians discoursed + Offenbach and Rossini from behind a screen of fern and flower, that + Vassili found an opportunity of addressing himself directly to Etta. In + part she desired this opportunity, with a breathless apprehension behind + her bright society smile. Without her assistance he never would have had + it. + </p> + <p> + “It is most kind of you,” he said in French, which language + had been spoken all the evening in courtesy to the marquise, who was now + asleep—“it is most kind of you to condescend to visit my poor + house, princess. Believe me, I feel the honor deeply. When you first came + into the room—you may have observed it—I was quite taken + aback. I—I have read in books of beauty capable of taking away a man’s + breath. You must excuse me—I am a plain-spoken man. I never met it + until this evening.” + </p> + <p> + Etta excused him readily enough. She could forgive plenty of + plain-speaking of this description. Had she not been inordinately vain, + this woman, like many, would have been extraordinarily clever. She + laughed, with little sidelong glances. + </p> + <p> + “I only hope that you will honor Paris on your way home to England,” + went on Vassili, who had a wonderful knack of judging men and women, + especially shallow ones. “Now, when may that be? When may we hope to + see you again? How long will you be in Russia, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Ce Vassili is the best English scholar I know!” broke in + Steinmetz, who had approached somewhat quietly. “But he will not + talk, princess—he is so shy.” + </p> + <p> + Paul was approaching also. It was eleven o’clock, he said, and + travellers who had to make an early start would do well to get home to + bed. + </p> + <p> + When the tall doors had been closed behind the departing guests, Vassili + walked slowly to the fire-place. He posted himself on the bear-skin + hearthrug, his perfectly shod feet well apart—a fine dignified + figure of a man, of erect and military carriage; a very mask of a face—soulless, + colorless, emotionless ever. + </p> + <p> + He stood biting at his thumb-nail, looking at the door through which Etta + Alexis had just passed in all the glory of her beauty, wealth, and + position. + </p> + <p> + “The woman,” he said slowly, “who sold me the Charity + League papers—and she thinks I do not recognize her!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX — ON THE NEVA + </h2> + <p> + Karl Steinmetz had apparently been transacting business on the Vassili + Ostrov, which the travelled reader doubtless knows as the northern bank of + the Neva, a part of Petersburg—an island, as the name tells us, + where business is transacted; where steamers land their cargoes and + riverside loafers impede the traffic. + </p> + <p> + What the business of Karl Steinmetz may have been is not of moment or + interest; moreover, it was essentially the affair of a man capable of + holding his own and his tongue against the world. + </p> + <p> + He was recrossing the river, not by the bridge, which requires a doffed + hat by reason of its shrine, but by one of the numerous roads cut across + the ice from bank to bank. He duly reached the southern shore, ascending + to the Admiralty Gardens by a flight of sanded steps. Here he lighted a + cigar, and, tucking his hands deep into the pockets of his fur coat, he + proceeded to walk slowly through the bare and deserted public garden. + </p> + <p> + A girl had crossed the river in front of him at a smart pace. She now + slackened her speed so much as to allow him to pass her. Karl Steinmetz + noticed the action. He noticed most things—this dull German. + Presently she passed him again. She dropped her umbrella, and before + picking it up described a circle with it—a manoeuvre remarkably like + a signal. Then she turned abruptly and looked into his face, displaying a + pleasing little round physiognomy with a smiling mouth and exaggeratedly + grave eyes. It was a face of all too common a type in these days of cheap + educational literature—the face of a womanly woman engaged in + unwomanly work. + </p> + <p> + Then she came back. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz raised his hat in his most fatherly way. + </p> + <p> + “My dear young lady,” he said in Russian, “if my + personal appearance has made so profound an impression as my vanity + prompts me to believe, would it not be decorous of you to conceal your + feelings beneath a maiden modesty? If, on the other hand, the signals you + have been making to me are of profound political importance, let me assure + you that I am no Nihilist.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said the girl, beginning to walk by his side, “what + are you?” + </p> + <p> + “What you see—a stout middle-aged man in easy circumstances, + happily placed in social obscurity. Which means that I have few enemies + and fewer friends.” + </p> + <p> + The girl looked as if she would like to laugh, had such exercise been in + keeping with a professional etiquette. + </p> + <p> + “Your name is Karl Steinmetz,” she said gravely. + </p> + <p> + “That is the name by which I am known to a large staff of creditors,” + replied he. + </p> + <p> + “If you will go to No. 4, Passage Kazan, at the back of the + cathedral, second-floor back room on the left at the top of the stairs, + and go straight into the room, you will find a friend who wishes to see + you,” she said, as one repeating a lesson by rote. + </p> + <p> + “And who are you, my dear young lady!” + </p> + <p> + “I—I am no one. I am only a paid agent.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + They walked on in silence a few paces. The bells of St. Isaac’s + Church suddenly burst out into a wild carillon, as is their way, + effectually preventing further conversation for a few moments. + </p> + <p> + “Will you go?” asked the girl, when the sound had broken off + as suddenly as it had commenced. + </p> + <p> + “Probably. I am curious and not nervous—except of damp sheets. + My anonymous friend does not expect me to stay all night, I presume. Did + he—or is it a she, my fatal beauty?—did <i>it</i> not name an + hour?” + </p> + <p> + “Between now and seven o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “God be with you!” said the girl, suddenly wheeling round and + walking away. + </p> + <p> + Without looking after her Steinmetz walked on, gradually increasing his + pace. In a few minutes he reached the large house standing within iron + gates at the upper end of the English quay, the house of Prince Pavlo + Howard Alexis. + </p> + <p> + He found Paul alone in his study. In a few words he explained the + situation. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think it means?” asked the prince. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven only knows!” + </p> + <p> + “And you will go?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” replied Steinmetz. “I love a mystery, + especially in Petersburg. It sounds so like a romance written in the + Kennington Road by a lady who has never been nearer to Russia than + Margate.” + </p> + <p> + “I had better go with you,” said Paul. + </p> + <p> + “Gott! No!” exclaimed Steinmetz; “I must go alone. I + will take Parks to drive the sleigh, if I may, though. Parks is a steady + man, who loves a rough-and-tumble. A typical British coachman—the + brave Parks!” + </p> + <p> + “Back in time for dinner?” asked Paul. + </p> + <p> + “I hope so. I have had such mysterious appointments thrust upon me + before. It is probably a friend who wants a hundred-ruble note until next + Monday.” + </p> + <p> + The cathedral clock struck six as Karl Steinmetz turned out of the Nevski + Prospekt into the large square before the sacred edifice. He soon found + the Kazan Passage—a very nest of toyshops—and, following the + directions given, he mounted a narrow staircase. He knocked at the door on + the left hand at the top of the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Come in!” said a voice which caused him to start. + </p> + <p> + He pushed open the door. The room was a small one, brilliantly lighted by + a paraffin lamp. At the table sat an old man with broad benevolent face, + high forehead, thin hair, and that smile which savors of the milk of human + kindness, and in England suggests Nonconformity. + </p> + <p> + “You!” ejaculated Steinmetz. “Stipan!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Come in and close the door.” + </p> + <p> + He laid aside his pen, extended his hand, and, rising, kissed Karl + Steinmetz on both cheeks after the manner of Russians. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear Karl. It seems that the good God has still a little + work for Stipan Lanovitch to do. I got away quite easily, in the usual + way, through a paid Evasion Agency. I have been forwarded from pillar to + post like a prize fowl, and reached Petersburg last night. I have not long + to stay. I am going south. I may be able to do some good yet. I hear that + Paul is working wonders in Tver.” + </p> + <p> + “What about money?” asked Steinmetz, who was always practical. + </p> + <p> + “Catrina sent it, the dear child! That is one of the conditions made + by the Agency—a hard one. I am to see no relations. My wife—well, + bon Dieu! it does not matter much. She is occupied in keeping herself + warm, no doubt. But Catrina! that is a different matter. Tell me—how + is she? That is the first thing I want to know.” + </p> + <p> + “She is well,” answered Steinmetz. “I saw her yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “And happy?” The broad-faced man looked into Steinmetz’s + face with considerable keenness. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + It was a moment for mental reservations. One wonders whether such are + taken account of in heaven. + </p> + <p> + “And Paul?” asked the Count Stipan Lanovitch at once. “Tell + me about him.” + </p> + <p> + “He is married,” answered Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + The Count Lanovitch was looking at the lamp. He continued to look at it as + if interested in the mechanism of the burner. Then he turned his eyes to + the face of his companion. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder, my friend,” he said slowly, “how much you + know?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” answered Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + The count looked at him enquiringly, heaved a sharp sigh, and abandoned + the subject. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “let us get to business. I have much to + ask and to tell you. I want you to see Catrina and to tell her that I am + safe and well, but she must not attempt to see me or correspond with me + for some years yet. Of course you heard no account of my trial. I was + convicted, on the evidence of paid witnesses, of inciting to rebellion. It + was easy enough, of course. I shall live either in the south or in + Austria. It is better for you to be in ignorance.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz nodded his head curtly. + </p> + <p> + “I do not want to know,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Will you please ask Catrina to send me money through the usual + channel? No more than she has been sending. It will suffice for my small + wants. Perhaps some day we may meet in Switzerland or in America. Tell the + dear child that. Tell her I pray the good God to allow that meeting. As + for Russia, her day has not come yet. It will not come in our time, my + dear friend. We are only the sowers. So much for the future. Now about the + past. I have not been idle. I know who stole the papers of the Charity + League and sold them. I know who bought them and paid for them.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz closed the door. He came back to the table. He was not smiling + now—quite the contrary. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” he said. “I want to know that badly.” + </p> + <p> + The Count Lanovitch looked up with a peculiar soft smile—acquired in + prison. There is no mistaking it. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I bear no ill will,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” answered Steinmetz bluntly. “Who stole the + papers from Thors?” + </p> + <p> + “Sydney Bamborough.” + </p> + <p> + “Good God in heaven! Is that true?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my friend.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz passed his broad hand over his forehead as if dazed. + </p> + <p> + “And who sold them?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “His wife.” + </p> + <p> + Count Lanovitch was looking at the burner of the lamp. There was a + peculiar crushed look about the man, as if he had reached the end of his + life, and was lying like a ship, hopelessly disabled in smooth water, + where nothing could affect him more. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz scratched his forehead with one finger, reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “Vassili bought them,” he said; “I can guess that.” + </p> + <p> + “You guess right,” returned Lanovitch quietly. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz sat down. He looked round as if wondering whether the room was + very hot. Then with a large handkerchief he wiped his brow. + </p> + <p> + “You have surprised me,” he admitted. “There are + complications. I shall sit up all night with your news, my dear Stipan. + Have you details? Wonderful—wonderful! Of course there is a God in + heaven. How can people doubt it—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Stipan Lanovitch quietly. “There is a God in + heaven, and at present he is angry with Russia. Yes, I have details. + Sydney Bamborough came to stay at Thors. Of course he knew all about the + Charity League—you remember that. It appears that his wife was + waiting for him and the papers at Tver. He took them from my room, but he + did not get them all. Had he got them all you would not be sitting there, + my friend. The general scheme he got—the list of committee names, + the local agents, the foreign agents. But the complete list of the League + he failed to find. He secured the list of subscribers, but learned nothing + from it because the sums were identified by a numeral only, the clue to + the numbers being the complete list, which I burned when I missed the + other papers.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz nodded curtly. + </p> + <p> + “That was wise,” he said. “You are a clever man, Stipan, + but too good for this world and its rascals. Go on.” + </p> + <p> + “It would appear that Bamborough rode to Tver with the papers, which + he handed to his wife. She took them to Paris while he intended to come + back to Thors. He had a certain cheap cunning and unbounded impertinence. + But—as you know, perhaps—he disappeared.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Steinmetz, scratching his forehead with one + finger. “Yes—he disappeared.” + </p> + <p> + Karl Steinmetz had one great factor of success in this world—an + infinite capacity for holding his cards. + </p> + <p> + “One more item,” said the count, in his businesslike, calm + way. “Vassili paid that woman seven thousand pounds for the papers.” + </p> + <p> + “And probably charged his masters ten,” added Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + “And now you must go!” + </p> + <p> + The count rose and looked at his watch—a cheap American article, + with a loud tick. He held it out with his queer washed-out smile, and + Steinmetz smiled. + </p> + <p> + The two embraced again—and there was nothing funny in the action. It + is a singular thing that the sight of two men kissing is conducive either + to laughter or to tears. There is no medium emotion. + </p> + <p> + “My dear friend—my very dear friend,” said the count, + “God be with you always. We may meet again—or we may not.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz walked down the Nevski Prospekt on the left-hand pavement—no + one walks on the other—and the sleigh followed him. He turned into a + large, brilliantly lighted cafi, and loosened his coat. + </p> + <p> + “Give me beer,” he said to the waiter; “a very large + quantity of it.” + </p> + <p> + The man smiled obsequiously as he set the foaming mug before him. + </p> + <p> + “Is it that his Excellency is cold?” he enquired. + </p> + <p> + “No, it isn’t,” answered Steinmetz. “Quite the + contrary.” + </p> + <p> + He drank the beer, and holding out his hand in the shadow of the table, he + noticed that it trembled only a little. + </p> + <p> + “That is better,” he murmured. “But I must sit here a + while longer. I suppose I was upset. That is what they call it—upset! + I have never been like that before. Those lamps in the Prospekt! Gott! how + they jumped up and down!” + </p> + <p> + He pressed his hand over his eyes as if to shut out the brightness of the + room—the glaring gas and brilliant decorations—the shining + bottles and the many tables which would not keep still. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” he said to the man, “give me more beer.” + </p> + <p> + Presently he rose, and, getting rather clumsily into his sleigh, drove + back at the usual breakneck pace to the palace at the upper end of the + English Quay. + </p> + <p> + He sent an ambiguous message to Paul, saying that he had returned and was + dressing for dinner. This ceremony he went through slowly, as one dazed by + a great fall or a heavy fatigue. His servant, a quick, silent man, noticed + the strangeness of his manner, and like a wise servant only betrayed the + result of his observation by a readier service, a quicker hand, a quieter + motion. + </p> + <p> + As Steinmetz went to the drawing-room he glanced at his watch. It was + twenty minutes past seven. He still had ten minutes to spare before + dinner. + </p> + <p> + He opened the drawing-room door. Etta was sitting by the fire, alone. She + glanced back over her shoulder in a quick, hunted way which had only + become apparent to Steinmetz since her arrival at Petersburg. + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening, madame,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + He closed the door carefully behind him. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX — AN OFFER OF FRIENDSHIP + </h2> + <p> + Etta did not move when Steinmetz approached, except, indeed, to push one + foot farther out toward the warmth of the wood fire. She certainly was + very neatly shod. Steinmetz was one of her few failures. She had never got + any nearer to the man. Despite his gray hair and bulky person she argued + that he was still a man, and therefore an easy victim to flattery—open + to the influence of beauty. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder why,” she said, looking into the fire, “you + hate me.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz looked down at her with his grim smile. The mise en schne was + perfect, from the thoughtful droop of the head to the innocent display of + slipper. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder why you think that of me,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “One cannot help perceiving that which is obvious.” + </p> + <p> + “While that which is purposely made obvious serves to conceal that + which may exist behind it,” replied the stout man. + </p> + <p> + Etta paused to reflect over this. Was Steinmetz going to make love to her? + She was not an inexperienced girl, and knew that there was nothing + impossible or even improbable in the thought. She wondered what Karl + Steinmetz must have been like when he was a young man. He had a deft way + even now of planting a double entendre when he took the trouble. How could + she know that his manner was always easiest, his attitude always politest, + toward the women whom he despised. In his way this man was a philosopher. + He had a theory that an exaggerated politeness is an insult to a woman’s + intellect. + </p> + <p> + “You think I do not care,” said the Princess Howard Alexis. + </p> + <p> + “You think I do not admire you,” replied Steinmetz + imperturbably. + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him. + </p> + <p> + “Do you not give me every reason to think so?” she returned, + with a toss of the head. + </p> + <p> + She was one of those women—and there are not a few—who would + quarrel with you if you do not admire them. + </p> + <p> + “Not intentionally, princess. I am, as you know, a German of no very + subtle comprehension. My position in your household appears to me to be a + little above the servants, although the prince is kind enough to make a + friend of me and his friends are so good as to do the same. I do not + complain. Far from it. I am well paid. I am interested in my work. I am + more or less my own master. I am very fond of Paul. You—are kind and + forbearing. I do my best—in a clumsy way, no doubt—to spare + you my heavy society. But of course I do not presume to form an opinion + upon your—upon you.” + </p> + <p> + “But I want you to form an opinion,” she said petulantly. + </p> + <p> + “Then you must know that I could only form one which would be + pleasing to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing of the sort,” replied Etta. “Of course I + know that all that you say about position and work is mere irony. Paul + thinks there is no one in the world like you.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz glanced sharply down at her. He had never considered the + possibility that she might love Paul. Was this, after all, jealousy? He + had attributed it to vanity. + </p> + <p> + “And I have no doubt he is right,” she went on. Suddenly she + gave a little laugh. “Don’t you understand?” she said. + “I want to be friends.” + </p> + <p> + She did not look at him, but sat with pouting lips holding out her hand. + </p> + <p> + Karl Steinmetz had been up to the elbows, as it were, in the diplomacy of + an unscrupulous, grasping age ever since his college days. He had been + behind the scenes in more than one European crisis, and that which goes on + behind the scenes is not always edifying or conducive to a squeamishness + of touch. He was not the man to be mawkishly afraid of soiling his + fingers. But the small white hand rather disconcerted him. + </p> + <p> + He took it, however, in his great, warm, soft grasp, held it for a moment, + and relinquished it. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want you to address all your conversation to Maggie, + and to ignore me. Do you think Maggie so very pretty?” + </p> + <p> + There was a twist beneath the gray mustache as he answered, “Is that + all the friendship you desire? Does it extend no farther than a passing + wish to be first in petty rivalries of daily existence? I am afraid, my + dear princess, that my friendship is a heavier matter—a clumsier + thing than that.” + </p> + <p> + “A big thing not easily moved,” she suggested, looking up with + her dauntless smile. + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his great shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “It may be—who knows? I hope it is,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “The worst of those big things is that they are sometimes in the + way,” said Etta reflectively, without looking at him. + </p> + <p> + “And yet the life that is only a conglomeration of trifles is a poor + life to look back upon.” + </p> + <p> + “Meaning mine?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Your life has not been trifling,” he said gravely. + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him, and then for some moments kept silence while she + idly opened and shut her fan. There was in the immediate vicinity of Karl + Steinmetz a sort of atmosphere of sympathy which had the effect of + compelling confidence. Even Etta was affected by it. During the silence + recorded she was quelling a sudden desire to say things to this man which + she had never said to any. She only succeeded in part. + </p> + <p> + “Do you ever feel an unaccountable sensation of dread,” she + asked, with a weary little laugh; “a sort of foreboding with nothing + definite to forebode?” + </p> + <p> + “Unaccountable—no,” replied Steinmetz. “But then I + am a German—and stout, which may make a difference. I have no + nerves.” + </p> + <p> + He looked into the fire through his benevolent gold-rimmed spectacles. + </p> + <p> + “Is it nerves—or is it Petersburg?” she asked abruptly. + “I think it is Petersburg. I hate Petersburg.” + </p> + <p> + “Why Petersburg more than Moscow or Nijni or—Tver?” + </p> + <p> + She drew in a long, slow breath, looking him up and down the while from + the corners of her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know,” she replied collectedly; “I think it is + damp. These houses are built on reclaimed land, I believe. This was all + marsh, was it not?” + </p> + <p> + He did not answer her question, and somehow she seemed to expect no reply. + He stood blinking down into the fire while she watched him furtively from + the corners of her eyes, her lips parched and open, her face quite white. + </p> + <p> + A few moments before she had protested that she desired his friendship. + She knew now that she could not brave his enmity. And the one word “Tver” + had done it all! The mere mention of a town, obscure and squalid, on the + upper waters of the mighty Volga in Mid-Russia! + </p> + <p> + During those few moments she suddenly came face to face with her position. + What had she to offer this man? She looked him up and down—stout, + placid, and impenetrable. Here was no common adventurer seeking place—no + coxcomb seeking ladies’ favors—no pauper to be bought with + gold. She had no means of ascertaining how much he knew, how much he + suspected. She had to deal with a man who held the best cards and would + not play them. She could never hope to find out whether his knowledge and + his suspicions were his alone or had been imparted to others. In her walk + through life she had jostled mostly villains; and a villain is no very + dangerous foe, for he fights on slippery ground. Except Paul she had never + had to do with a man who was quite honest, upright, and fearless; and she + had fallen into the common error of thinking that all such are necessarily + simple, unsuspicious, and a little stupid. + </p> + <p> + She breathed hard, living through years of anxiety in a few moments of + time, and she could only realize that she was helpless, bound hand and + foot in this man’s power. + </p> + <p> + It was he who spoke first. In the smaller crises of life it is usually the + woman who takes this privilege upon herself; but the larger situations + need a man’s steadier grasp. + </p> + <p> + “My dear lady,” he said, “if you are content to take my + friendship as it is, it is yours. But I warn you it is no showy + drawing-room article. There will be no compliments, no pretty speeches, no + little gifts of flowers, and such trumpery amenities. It will all be very + solid and middle-aged, like myself.” + </p> + <p> + “You think,” returned the lady, “that I am fit for + nothing better than pretty speeches and compliments and floral offerings?” + </p> + <p> + She broke off with a forced little laugh, and awaited his verdict with + defiant eyes upraised. He returned the gaze through his placid spectacles; + her beauty, in its setting of brilliant dress and furniture, soft lights, + flowers, and a thousand feminine surroundings, failed to dazzle him. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” he said quietly. + </p> + <p> + “And yet you offer me your friendship?” + </p> + <p> + He bowed in acquiescence. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “For Paul’s sake, my dear lady.” + </p> + <p> + She shrugged her shoulders and turned away from him. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” she said, “it is quite easy to be rude. As + it happens, it is precisely for Paul’s sake that I took the trouble + of speaking to you on this matter. I do not wish him to be troubled with + such small domestic affairs; and therefore, if we are to live under the + same roof, I shall deem it a favor if you will, at all events, conceal + your disapproval of me.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed gravely and kept silence. Etta sat with a little patch of color + on either cheek, looking into the fire until the door was opened and + Maggie came in. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz went toward her with his grave smile, while Etta hid a face + which had grown haggard. + </p> + <p> + Maggie glanced from one to the other with frank interest. The relationship + between these two had rather puzzled her of late. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Steinmetz, “and what of St. Petersburg?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not disappointed,” replied Maggie. “It is all I + expected and more. I am not blasie like Etta. Every thing interests me.” + </p> + <p> + “We were discussing Petersburg when you came in,” said + Steinmetz, drawing forward a chair. “The princess does not like it. + She complains of—nerves.” + </p> + <p> + “Nerves!” exclaimed Maggie, turning to her cousin. “I + did not suspect you of having them.” + </p> + <p> + Etta smiled, a little wearily. + </p> + <p> + “One never knows,” she answered, forcing herself to be light, + “what one may come to in old age. I saw a gray hair this morning. I + am nearly thirty-three, you know. When glamour goes, nerves come.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I suppose they do—especially in Russia, perhaps. There + is a glamour about Russia, and I mean to cultivate it rather than nerves. + There is a glamour about every thing—the broad streets, the Neva, + the snow, and the cold. Especially the people. It is always especially the + people, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “It is the people, my dear young lady, that lend interest to the + world.” + </p> + <p> + “Paul took me out in a sleigh this morning,” went on Maggie, + in her cheerful voice that knew no harm. “I liked every thing—the + policemen in their little boxes at the street corners, the officers in + their fur coats, the cabmen, every-body. There is something so mysterious + about them all. One can easily make up stories about every-body one meets + in Petersburg. It is so easy to think that they are not what they seem. + Paul, Etta, even you, Herr Steinmetz, may not be what you seem.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is so,” answered Steinmetz, with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “You may be a Nihilist,” pursued Maggie. “You may have + bombs concealed up your sleeves; you may exchange mysterious passwords + with people in the streets; you may be much less innocent than you appear.” + </p> + <p> + “All that may be so,” he admitted. + </p> + <p> + “You may have a revolver in the pocket of your dress-coat,” + went on Maggie, pointing to the voluminous garment with her fan. + </p> + <p> + His hand went to the pocket in question, and produced exactly what she had + suggested. He held out his hand with a small silver-mounted revolver lying + in the palm of it. + </p> + <p> + “Even that,” he said, “may be so.” + </p> + <p> + Maggie looked at it with a sudden curiosity, her bright eyes grave. + </p> + <p> + “Loaded?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will not examine it. How curious! I wonder how near to the + mark I may have been in other ways.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” said Steinmetz, looking at Etta. “And now + tell us something about the princess. What do you suspect her of?” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Paul came into the room, distinguished-looking and grave. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Delafield,” pursued Steinmetz, turning to the new-comer, + “is telling us her suspicions about ourselves. I am already as good + as condemned to Siberia. She is now about to sit in judgment on the + princess.” + </p> + <p> + Maggie laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Herr Steinmetz has pleaded guilty to the worst accusation,” + she said. “On the other counts I leave him to his own conscience.” + </p> + <p> + “Any thing but that,” urged Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + Paul came forward, and Maggie rather obviously avoided looking at him. + </p> + <p> + “Tell us of Paul’s crimes first,” said Etta, rather + hurriedly. She glanced at the clock, whither Karl Steinmetz’s eyes + had also travelled. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Paul,” said Maggie, rather indifferently. Indeed, it + seemed as if her lightness of heart had suddenly failed her. “Well, + perhaps he is deeply involved in schemes for the resurrection of the + Polish kingdom, or something of that sort.” + </p> + <p> + “That sounds tame,” put in Steinmetz. “I think you would + construct a better romance respecting the princess. In books it is always + the beautiful princesses who are most deeply dyed in crime.” + </p> + <p> + Maggie opened her fan and closed it again. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she said, tapping on the arm of her chair with it; + “I give Etta a mysterious past. She is the sort of person who would + laugh and dance at a ball with the knowledge that there was a mine beneath + the floor.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not think I am,” said Etta, with a shudder. She rose + rather hurriedly, and crossed the room with a great rustle of silks. + </p> + <p> + “Stop her!” she whispered, as she passed Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI — A SUSPECTED HOUSE + </h2> + <p> + The Countess Lanovitch and Catrina were sitting together in the + too-luxurious drawing-room that overlooked the English Quay and the Neva. + The double windows were rigorously closed, while the inner panes were + covered with a thick rime. The sun was just setting over the marshes that + border the upper waters of the Gulf of Finland, and lit up the snow-clad + city with a rosy glow which penetrated to the room where the two women + sat. + </p> + <p> + Catrina was restless, moving from chair to chair, from fire-place to + window, with a lack of repose which would certainly have touched the + nerves of a less lethargic person than the countess. + </p> + <p> + “My dear child!” that lady was exclaiming with lackadaisical + horror, “we cannot go to Thors yet. The thought is too horrible. You + never think of my health. Besides, the gloom of the everlasting snow is + too painful. It makes me think of your poor mistaken father, who is + probably shovelling it in Siberia. Here, at all events, one can avoid the + window—one need not look at it.” + </p> + <p> + “The policy of shutting one’s eyes is a mistake,” said + Catrina. + </p> + <p> + She had risen, and was standing by the window, her stunted form being + framed, as it were, in a rosy glow of pink. + </p> + <p> + The countess heaved a little sigh and gazed idly at the fire. She did not + understand Catrina. She was afraid of her. There was something rugged and + dogged which the girl had inherited from her father—that Slavonic + love of pain for its own sake—which makes Russian patriots and + thinkers strange, incomprehensible beings. + </p> + <p> + “I question it, Catrina,” said the elder lady; “but + perhaps it is a matter of health. Dr. Stantovitch told me, quite between + ourselves, that if I had given way to my grief at the time of the trial he + would not have held himself responsible for the consequences.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Stantovitch,” said Catrina, “is a humbug.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear child!” exclaimed the countess, “he attends all + the noble ladies of Petersburg.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely,” answered Catrina. + </p> + <p> + She was woman enough to enter into futile arguments with her mother, and + man enough to despise herself for doing it. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you want to go back to Thors so soon?” murmured the + elder lady, with a little sigh of despair. She knew she was playing a + losing game very badly. She was mentally shuddering at the recollection of + former sleigh-journeying from Tver to Thors. + </p> + <p> + “Because I am sure father would like us to be there this hard + winter.” + </p> + <p> + “But your father is in Siberia,” put in the countess, which + remark was ignored. + </p> + <p> + “Because if we do not go before the snow begins to melt we shall + have to do the journey in carriages over bad roads, which is sure to knock + you up. Because our place is at Thors, and no one wants us here. I hate + Petersburg. It is no use living here unless one is rich and beautiful and + popular. We are none of those things, so we are better at Thors.” + </p> + <p> + “But we have many nice friends here, dear. You will see, this + afternoon. I expect quite a reception. By the way, I hope Kupfer has sent + the little cakes. Your father used to be so fond of them. I wonder if we + could send him a box to Siberia. He would enjoy them, poor man! He might + give some to the prison people, and thus obtain a little alleviation. Yes; + the Comte de Chauxville said he would come on my first reception-day, and, + of course, Paul and his wife must return my call. They will come to-day. I + am anxious to see her. They say she is beautiful and dresses well.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina’s broad white teeth gleamed for a moment in the flickering + firelight, as she clenched them over her lower lip. + </p> + <p> + “And therefore Paul’s happiness in life is assured,” she + said, in a hard voice. + </p> + <p> + “Of course. What more could he want?” murmured the countess, + in blissful ignorance of any irony. + </p> + <p> + Catrina looked at her mother with a gleam of utter contempt in her eyes. + That is one of the privileges of a great love, whether it bring happiness + or misery—the contempt for all who have never known it. + </p> + <p> + While they remained thus the sound of sleigh-bells on the quiet English + Quay made itself heard through the double windows. There was a clang of + many tones, and the horses pulled up with a jerk. The color left Catrina’s + face quite suddenly, as if wiped away, leaving her ghastly. She was going + to see Paul and his wife. + </p> + <p> + Presently the door opened, and Etta came into the room with the + indomitable assurance which characterized her movements and earned for her + a host of feminine enemies. + </p> + <p> + “Mme. la Comtesse,” she said, with her most gracious smile, + taking the limp hand offered to her by the Countess Lanovitch. + </p> + <p> + Catrina stood in the embrasure of the window, hating her. + </p> + <p> + Paul followed on his wife’s heels, scarcely concealing his boredom. + He was not a society man. Catrina came forward and exchanged a formal bow + with Etta, who took in her plainness and the faults of her dress at one + contemptuous glance. She smiled with the perfect pity of a good figure for + no figure at all. Paul was shaking hands with the countess. When he took + Catrina’s hand her fingers were icy, and twitched nervously within + his grasp. + </p> + <p> + The countess was already babbling to Etta in French. The Princess Howard + Alexis always began by informing Paul’s friends that she knew no + Russian. For a moment Paul and Catrina were left, as it were, alone. When + the countess was once fairly roused from her chronic lethargy her voice + usually acquired a metallic ring which dominated any other conversation + that might be going on in the room. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you happiness,” said Catrina, and no one heard her but + Paul. She did not raise her eyes to his, but looked vaguely at his collar. + Her voice was short and rather breathless, as if she had just emerged from + deep water. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” answered Paul simply. + </p> + <p> + He turned and somewhat naturally looked at his wife. Catrina’s + thoughts followed his. A man is at a disadvantage in the presence of the + woman who loves him. She usually sees through him—a marked + difference between masculine and feminine love. Catrina looked up sharply + and caught his eyes resting on Etta. + </p> + <p> + “He does not love her—he does not love her!” was the + thought that instantly leaped into her brain. + </p> + <p> + And if she had said it to him he would have contradicted her flatly and + honestly, and in vain. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” the countess was saying with lazy volubility; “Paul + is one of our oldest friends. We are neighbors in the country, you know. + He has always been in and out of our house like one of the family. My poor + husband was very fond of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Is your husband dead, then?” asked Etta in a low voice, with + a strange haste. + </p> + <p> + “No; he is only in Siberia. You have perhaps heard of his misfortune—Count + Stipan Lanovitch.” + </p> + <p> + Etta nodded her head with the deepest sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “I feel for you, countess,” she said. “And yet you are + so brave—and mademoiselle,” she said, turning to Catrina. + “I hope we shall see more of each other in Tver.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina bowed jerkily and made no reply. Etta glanced at her sharply. + Perhaps she saw more than Catrina knew. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” she said to the countess, with that inclusive + manner which spreads the conversation out, “that Paul and Mlle. de + Lanovitch were playmates?” + </p> + <p> + The reply lay with either of the ladies, but Catrina turned away. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered the countess; “but Catrina is only + twenty-four—ten years younger than Paul.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” with a faint, cutting surprise. + </p> + <p> + Indeed Etta looked younger than Catrina. On a l'bge de son coeur, and if + the heart be worn it transmits its weariness to the face, where such signs + are ascribed to years. So the little stab was justified by Catrina’s + appearance. + </p> + <p> + While the party assembled were thus exchanging social amenities, a past + master in such commerce joined them in the person of Claude de Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + He smiled his mechanical, heartless smile upon them all, but when he bowed + over Etta’s hand his face was grave. He expressed no surprise at + seeing Paul and Etta, though his manner betokened that emotion. There was + no sign of this meeting having been a prearranged matter, brought about by + himself through the easy and innocent instrumentality of the countess. + </p> + <p> + “And you are going to Tver, no doubt?” he said almost at once + to Etta. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered that lady, with a momentary hunted look in her + eyes. It is strange how an obscure geographical name may force its way + into our lives, never to be forgotten. Queen Mary of England struck a note + of the human octave when she protested that the word “Calais” + was graven on her heart. It seemed to Etta that “Tver” was + written large wheresoever she turned, for the conscience looks through a + glass and sees whatever may be written thereon overspreading every + prospect. + </p> + <p> + “The prince,” continued De Chauxville, turning to Paul, + “is a great sportsman, I am told—a mighty hunter. I wonder why + Englishmen always want to kill something.” + </p> + <p> + Paul smiled, without making an immediate answer. He was not the man to be + led into the danger of repartee by such as De Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + “We have a few bears left,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You are fortunate,” protested De Chauxville. “I shot + one when I was younger. I was immensely afraid, and so was the bear. I + have a great desire to try again.” + </p> + <p> + Etta glanced at Paul, who returned De Chauxville’s bland gaze with + all the imperturbability of a prince. + </p> + <p> + The countess’s cackling voice broke in at this juncture, as perhaps + De Chauxville had intended it to do. + </p> + <p> + “Then why not come and shoot ours?” she said. “We have + quite a number of them in the forests at Thors.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Mme. la Comtesse,” he answered, with outspread, + deprecatory hands, “but that would be taking too great an advantage + of your hospitality and your well-known kindness.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to Catrina, who received him with a half-concealed frown. The + countess bridled and looked at her daughter with obvious maternal meaning, + as one who was saying, “There—you bungled your prince, but I + have procured you a baron.” + </p> + <p> + “The abuse of hospitality is the last refuge of the needy,” + continued De Chauxville oracularly. “But my temptation is strong; + shall I yield to it, mademoiselle?” + </p> + <p> + Catrina smiled unwillingly. + </p> + <p> + “I would rather leave it to your own conscience,” she said. + “But I fail to see the danger you anticipate.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I accept, madame,” said De Chauxville, with the engaging + frankness which ever had a false ring in it. + </p> + <p> + If the whole affair had been prearranged in Claude de Chauxville’s + mind, it certainly succeeded more fully than is usually the case with + human schemes. If, on the other hand, this invitation was the result of + chance, Fortune had favored Claude de Chauxville beyond his deserts. + </p> + <p> + The little scene had played itself out before the eyes of Paul, who did + not want it; of Etta, who desired it; and of Catrina, who did not exactly + know what she wanted, with the precision of a stage-play carefully + rehearsed. + </p> + <p> + Claude de Chauxville had unscrupulously made use of feminine vanity with + all the skill that was his. A little glance toward Etta, as he accepted + the invitation, conveyed to her the fact that she was the object of his + clever little plot; that it was in order to be near her that he had forced + the Countess Lanovitch to invite him to Thors; and Etta, with all her + shrewdness, was promptly hoodwinked. Vanity is a handicap assigned to + clever women by Fate, who handicaps us all without appeal. De Chauxville + saw by a little flicker of the eyelids that he had not missed his mark. He + had hit Etta where his knowledge of her told him she was unusually + vulnerable. He had made one ally. The countess he looked upon with a wise + contempt. She was easier game than Etta. Catrina he understood well + enough. Her rugged simplicity had betrayed her secret to him before he had + been five minutes in the room. Paul he despised as a man lacking finesse + and esprit—a truly French form of contempt. For Frenchmen have yet + to learn that such qualities have remarkably little to do with love. + </p> + <p> + Claude de Chauxville was one of those men—alas! too many—who + owe their success in life almost entirely to some feminine influence or + another. Whenever he came into direct opposition to men it was his + instinct to retire from the field. Behind Paul’s back he despised + him; before his face he cringed. + </p> + <p> + “Then, perhaps,” he said, when the princess was engaged in the + usual farewells with the countess, and Paul was moving toward the door—“then, + perhaps, prince, we may meet again before the spring—if the countess + intends her invitation to be taken seriously.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Paul; “I often shoot at Thors.” + </p> + <p> + “If you do not happen to come over, perhaps I may be allowed to call + and pay my respects—or is the distance too great?” + </p> + <p> + “You can do it in an hour and a half with a quick horse, if the snow + is good,” answered Paul. + </p> + <p> + “Then I may make it au revoir?” enquired De Chauxville, + holding out a frank hand. + </p> + <p> + “Au revoir,” said Paul, “if you wish it.” + </p> + <p> + And he turned to say good-by to Catrina. + </p> + <p> + As De Chauxville had arrived later than the other visitors, it was quite + natural that he should remain after they had left, and it may be safely + presumed that he took good care to pin the Countess Lanovitch down to her + rash invitation. + </p> + <p> + “Why is that man coming to Tver?” said Paul, rather gruffly, + when Etta and he were settled beneath the furs of the sleigh. “We do + not want him there.” + </p> + <p> + “I expect,” replied Etta rather petulantly, “that we + shall be so horribly dull that even M. de Chauxville will be a welcome + alleviation.” + </p> + <p> + Paul said nothing. He gave a little sign to the driver, and the horses + leaped forward with a musical clash of their silver bells. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII — THE SPIDER AND THE FLY + </h2> + <p> + It is to be feared that there is a lamentable lack of local color in the + present narrative. Having safely arrived at Petersburg, we have nothing to + tell of that romantic city—no hints at deep-laid plots, no prison, + nor tales of jail-birds—tales with salt on them, bien entendu—the + usual grain. We have hardly mentioned the Nevski Prospekt, which street by + ancient right must needs figure in all Russian romance. We have instead + been prating of drawing-rooms and mere interiors of houses, which to-day + are the same all the world over. A Japanese fan is but a Japanese fan, + whether it hang on the wall of a Canadian drawing-room or the matting of + an Indian bungalow. An Afghan carpet is the same on any floor. It is the + foot that treads the carpet which makes one to differ from another. + </p> + <p> + Whether it be in Petersburg or Pekin, it still must be the human being + that lends the interest to the still life around it. A truce, therefore, + to picturesque description—sour grapes to the present pen—of + church and fort and river, with which the living persons of whom we tell + have little or nothing to do. + </p> + <p> + Maggie was alone in the great drawing-room of the house at the end of the + English Quay—alone and grave. Some people, be it noted, are gravest + when alone, and they are wise, for the world has too much gravity for us + to go about it with a long face, making matters worse. Let each of us be + the centre of his own gravity. Maggie Delafield had, perhaps, that spark + in the brain for which we have but an ugly word. We call it “pluck.” + And by it we are enabled to win a losing game—and, harder still, to + lose a losing game—without much noise or plaint. + </p> + <p> + Whatever this girl’s joys or sorrows may have been—and pray + you, madam, remember that no man ever knows his neighbor’s heart!—she + succeeded as well as any in concealing both. There are some women who tell + one just enough about themselves to prove that they can understand and + sympathize. Maggie was of these; but she told no more. + </p> + <p> + She was alone when Paul came into the room. It was a large room, with more + than one fire-place. Maggie was reading, and she did not look round. Paul + stopped—warming himself by the fire nearest to the door. He was the + sort of man to come into a room without any remark. + </p> + <p> + Maggie looked up for a moment, glancing at the wood fire. She seemed to + know for certain that it was Paul. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been out?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—calling.” + </p> + <p> + He came toward her, standing beside her with his hands clasped behind his + back, looking into the fire. + </p> + <p> + “Socially,” he said, with a quiet humor, “I am not a + success.” + </p> + <p> + Her book dropped upon her knees, her two hands crossed upon its pages. She + stared at the glowing logs as if his thoughts were written there. + </p> + <p> + “I do not want to give way,” he went on, “to a habit of + morbid introspection, but socially I am a horrid failure.” + </p> + <p> + There was a little smile on the girl’s face, not caused by his grave + humor. It would appear that she was smiling at something beyond that—something + only visible to her own mental vision. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you do not try,” she suggested practically. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I do. I try in several languages. I have no small-talk.” + </p> + <p> + “You see,” she said gravely, “you are a large man.” + </p> + <p> + “Does that make any difference?” he asked simply. + </p> + <p> + She turned and looked at him as he towered by her side—looked at him + with a queer smile. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered, “I think so.” + </p> + <p> + For some moments they remained thus without speaking—in a peaceful + silence. Although the room was very large, it was peaceful. What is it, by + the way, that brings peace to the atmosphere of a room, of a whole house + sometimes? It can only be something in the individuality of some person in + it. We talk glibly of the comfort of being settled—the peacefulness, + the restfulness of it. Some people, it would appear, are always settled—of + settled convictions, settled mind, settled purpose. Paul Howard Alexis was + perhaps such a person. + </p> + <p> + At all events, the girl sitting in the low chair by his side seemed to be + under some such influence, seemed to have escaped the unrest which is said + to live in palaces. + </p> + <p> + When she spoke it was with a quiet voice, as one having plenty of time and + leisure. + </p> + <p> + “Where have you been?” she asked practically. Maggie was + always practical. + </p> + <p> + “To the Lanovitches’, where we met the Baron de Chauxville.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Why—ah?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I dislike the Baron de Chauxville,” answered Maggie + in her decisive way. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad of that—because I hate him!” said Paul. + “Have you any reason for your dislike?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Delafield had a reason, but it was not one that she could mention to + Paul. So she gracefully skirted the question. + </p> + <p> + “He has the same effect upon me as snails,” she explained + airily. + </p> + <p> + Then, as if to salve her conscience, she gave the reason, but disguised, + so that he did not recognize it. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen more of M. de Chauxville than you have,” she said + gravely. “He is one of those men of whom women do see more. When men + are present he loses confidence, like a cur when a thoroughbred terrier is + about. He dislikes you. I should take care to give M. de Chauxville a wide + berth if I were you, Paul.” + </p> + <p> + She had risen, after glancing at the clock. She turned down the page of + her book, and looking up suddenly, met his eyes, for a moment only. + </p> + <p> + “We are not likely to drop into a close friendship,” said + Paul. “But—he is coming to Thors, twenty miles from Osterno.” + </p> + <p> + There was a momentary look of anxiety in the girl’s eyes, which she + turned away to hide. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry for that,” she said. “Does Herr Steinmetz + know it?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet.” + </p> + <p> + Maggie paused for a moment. She was tracing with the tip of her finger a + pattern stamped on the binding of the book. It would seem that she had + something more to say. Then suddenly she went away without saying it. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime Claude de Chauxville had gently led the Countess Lanovitch + to invite him to stay to dinner. He accepted the invitation with becoming + reluctance, and returned to the Hotel de Berlin, where he was staying, in + order to dress. He was fully alive to the expediency of striking while the + iron is hot—more especially where women are concerned. Moreover, his + knowledge of the countess led him to fear that she would soon tire of his + society. This lady had a lamentable facility for getting to the bottom of + her friends’ powers of entertainment within a few days. It was De + Chauxville’s intention to make secure his invitation to Thors, and + then to absent himself from the countess. + </p> + <p> + At dinner he made himself vastly agreeable, recounting many anecdotes + fresh from Paris, which duly amused the Countess Lanovitch, and somewhat + shocked Catrina, who was not advanced or inclined to advance. + </p> + <p> + After dinner the guest asked Mlle. Catrina to play. He opened the grand + piano in the inner drawing-room with such gallantry and effusion that the + sanguine countess, post-prandially somnolescent in her luxurious chair, + began rehearsing different modes of mentioning her son-in-law, the baron. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she muttered to herself, “and Catrina is plain—terribly + plain.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon she fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville had a good memory, and was, moreover, a good and capable + liar. So Catrina did not find out that he knew nothing whatever of music. + He watched the plain face as the music rose and fell, himself impervious + to its transcendent tones. With practised cunning he waited until Catrina + was almost intoxicated with music—an intoxication to which all great + musicians are liable. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he said. “I envy you your power. With music like + that one can almost imagine that life is what one would wish it to be.” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer, but she wandered off into another air—a slumber + song. + </p> + <p> + “The Schlummerlied,” said De Chauxville softly. “It + almost has the power to send a sorrow to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + This time she answered him—possibly because he had not looked at + her. + </p> + <p> + “Such never sleep,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know that, too?” he asked, not in a tone that wanted + reply. + </p> + <p> + She made no answer. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” he went on. “For me it is different, I am + a man. I have man’s work to do. I can occupy myself with ambition. + At all events, I have a man’s privilege of nursing revenge.” + </p> + <p> + He saw her eyes light up, her breast heave with a sudden sigh. Something + like a smile wavered for a moment beneath his waxed mustache. + </p> + <p> + Catrina’s fingers, supple and strong, struck in great chords the air + of a gloomy march from the half-forgotten muse of some monastic composer. + While she played, Claude de Chauxville proceeded with his delicate touch + to play on the hidden chords of an untamed heart. + </p> + <p> + “A man’s privilege,” he repeated musingly. + </p> + <p> + “Need it be such?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + For the first time his eyes met hers. + </p> + <p> + “Not necessarily,” he answered, and her eyes dropped before + his narrow gaze. + </p> + <p> + He sat back in his chair, content for the moment with the progress he had + made. He glanced at the countess. He was too experienced a man to be + tricked. The countess was really asleep. Her cap was on one side, her + mouth open. A woman who is pretending to sleep usually does so in becoming + attitudes. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville did not speak again for some minutes. He sat back in his + chair, leaning his forehead on his hand, while he peeped through his slim + fingers. He could almost read the girl’s thoughts as she put them + into music. + </p> + <p> + “She does not hate him yet,” he was reflecting. “But she + needs only to see him with Etta a few times and she will come to it.” + </p> + <p> + The girl played on, throwing all the pain in her passionate, untamed heart + into the music. She knew nothing of the world; for half of its + temptations, its wiles, its wickednesses were closed to her by the plain + face that God had given her. For beautiful women see the worst side of + human nature—they usually deal with the worst of men. Catrina was an + easy tool in the hands of such as Claude de Chauxville; for he had dealt + with women and that which is evil in women all his life, and the only + mistakes he ever made were those characteristic errors of omission + attaching to a persistent ignorance of the innate good in human nature. It + is this same innate good that upsets the calculations of most villains. + </p> + <p> + Absorbed as she was in her great grief, Catrina was in no mood to seek for + motives—to split a moral straw. She only knew that this man seemed + to understand her as no one had ever understood her. She was content with + the knowledge that he took the trouble to express and to show a sympathy + of which those around her had not suspected her to be in need. + </p> + <p> + The moment had been propitious, and Claude de Chauxville, with true Gallic + insight, had seized it. Her heart was sore and lonely—almost + breaking—and she was without the worldly wisdom which tells us that + such hearts must, at all costs, be hidden from the world. She was without + religious teaching—quite without that higher moral teaching which is + independent of creed and conformity, which is only learnt at a good mother’s + knee. Catrina had not had a good mother. She had had the countess—a + weak-minded, self-indulgent, French-novel-reading woman. Heaven protect + our children from such mothers! + </p> + <p> + In the solitude of her life Catrina Lanovitch had conceived a great love—a + passion such as a few only are capable of attaining, be it for weal or + woe. She had seen this love ignored—walked under foot by its object + with a grave deliberation which took her breath away when she thought of + it. It was all in all to her; to him it was nothing. Her philosophy was + simple. She could not sit still and endure. At this time it seemed + unbearable. She must turn and rend some one. She did not know whom. But + some one must suffer. It was in this that Claude de Chauxville proposed to + assist her. + </p> + <p> + “It is preposterous that people should make others suffer and go + unpunished,” he said, intent on his noble purpose. + </p> + <p> + Catrina’s eyelids flickered, but she made no answer. The soreness of + her heart had not taken the form of a definite revenge as yet. Her love + for Paul was still love, but it was perilously near to hatred. She had not + reached the point of wishing definitely that he should suffer, but the + sight of Etta—beautiful, self-confident, carelessly possessive in + respect to Paul—had brought her within measurable distance of it. + </p> + <p> + “The arrogance of those who have all that they desire is + insupportable,” the Frenchman went on in his favorite, + non-committing, epigrammatic way. + </p> + <p> + Catrina—a second Eve—glanced at him, and her silence gave him + permission to go on. + </p> + <p> + “Some men have a different code of honor for women, who are + helpless.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina knew vaguely that unless a woman is beloved by the object of her + displeasure, she cannot easily make him suffer. + </p> + <p> + She clenched her teeth over her lower lip. As she played, a new light was + dawning in her eyes. The music was a marvel, but no one in the room heard + it. + </p> + <p> + “I would be pitiless to all such men,” said De Chauxville. + “They deserve no pity, for they have shown none. The man who + deceives a woman is worthy of—” + </p> + <p> + He never finished the sentence. Her deep, passionate eyes met his. Her + hands came down with one final crash on the chords. She rose and crossed + the room. + </p> + <p> + “Mother,” she said, “shall I ring for tea?” + </p> + <p> + When the countess awoke, De Chauxville was turning over some sheets of + music at the piano. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII — A WINTER SCENE + </h2> + <p> + Between Petersburg and the sea there are several favorite islands more or + less assigned to the foreigners residing in the Russian capital. Here the + English live, and in summer the familiar cries of the tennis-lawn may be + heard, while in winter snow-shoeing, skating, and tobogganing hold merry + sway. + </p> + <p> + It was here, namely, on the island of Christeffsky, that a great ice fjte + was held on the day preceding the departure of the Howard Alexis household + for Tver. The fjte was given by one of the foreign ambassadors—a + gentleman whose wife was accredited to the first place in Petersburg + society. It was absolutely necessary, Steinmetz averred, for the whole + Howard Alexis party to put in an appearance. + </p> + <p> + The fjte was supposed to begin at four in the afternoon, and by five o’clock + all St. Petersburg—all, c’est ` dire, worthy of mention in + that aristocratic city—had arrived. One may be sure Claude de + Chauxville arrived early, in beautiful furs with a pair of silver-plated + skates under his arm. He was an influential member of the Cercle des + Patineurs in Paris. Steinmetz arrived soon after, to look on, as he told + his many friends. He was, he averred, too stout to skate and too heavy for + the little iron sleds on the ice-hills. + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” he said, “there is nothing left for me but to + watch. I shall watch De Chauxville,” he added, turning to that + graceful skater with a grim smile. De Chauxville nodded and laughed. + </p> + <p> + “You have been doing that any time this twenty years, mon ami,” + he said, as he stood upright on his skates and described an easy little + figure on the outside edge backward. + </p> + <p> + “And have always found you on slippery ground.” + </p> + <p> + “And never a fall,” said De Chauxville over his shoulder, as + he shot away across the brilliantly lighted pond. + </p> + <p> + It was quite dark. A young moon was rising over the city, throwing out in + dark relief against the sky a hundred steeples and domes. The long, thin + spire of the Fortress Church—the tomb of the Romanoffs—shot up + into the heavens like a dagger. Near at hand, a thousand electric lights + and colored lanterns, cunningly swung on the branches of the pines, made a + veritable fairyland. The ceaseless song of the skates, on ice as hard as + iron, mingled with the strains of a band playing in a kiosk with open + windows. From the ice-hills came the swishing scream of the iron runners + down the terrific slope. The Russians are a people of great emotions. + There is a candor in their recognition of the needs of the senses which + does not obtain in our self-conscious nature. These strangely constituted + people of the North—a budding nation, a nation which shall some day + overrun the world—are easily intoxicated. And there is a + deliberation about their methods of seeking this enjoyment which appears + at times almost brutal. There is nothing more characteristic than the + ice-hill. + </p> + <p> + Imagine a slope as steep as a roof, paved with solid blocks of ice, which + are subsequently frozen together by flooding with water; imagine a sledge + with steel runners polished like a knife; imagine a thousand lights on + either side of this glittering path, and you have some idea of an + ice-hill. It is certainly the strongest form of excitement imaginable—next, + perhaps, to whale-fishing. + </p> + <p> + There is no question of breathing, once the sledge has been started by the + attendant. The sensation is somewhat suggestive of a fall from a balloon, + and yet one goes to the top again, as surely as the drunkard will return + to his bottle. Fox-hunting is child’s play to it, and yet grave men + have prayed that they might die in pink. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz was standing at the foot of the ice-hill when an arm was slipped + within his. + </p> + <p> + “Will you take me down?” asked Maggie Delafield. + </p> + <p> + He turned and smiled at her—fresh and blooming in her furs. + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear young lady. But thank you for suggesting it.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it very dangerous?” + </p> + <p> + “Very. But I think you ought to try it. It is a revelation. It is an + epoch in your life. When I was a younger man I used to sneak away to an + ice-hill where I was not known, and spend hours of the keenest enjoyment. + Where is Paul?” + </p> + <p> + “He has just gone over there with Etta.” + </p> + <p> + “She refuses to go?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Maggie. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz looked down at his companion with his smile of quiet + resignation. + </p> + <p> + “You tell me you are afraid of mice,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I hate mice,” she replied. “Yes—I suppose I am + afraid of them.” + </p> + <p> + “The princess is not afraid of <i>rats</i>—she is afraid of + very little, the princess—and yet she will not go on the ice-hill. + What strange creatures, mademoiselle! Come, let us look for Paul. He is + the only man who may be trusted to take you down.” + </p> + <p> + They found Paul and Etta together in one of the brilliantly lighted kiosks + where refreshments were being served, all hot and steaming, by fur-clad + servants. It was a singular scene. If a coffee-cup was left for a few + moments on the table by the watchful servitors, the spoon froze to the + saucer. The refreshments—bread and butter, dainty sandwiches of + caviare, of pbti de foie gras, of a thousand delicatessen from Berlin and + Petersburg—were kept from freezing on hot-water dishes. The whole + scene was typical of life in the northern capital, where wealth wages a + successful fight against climate. Open fires burned brilliantly in iron + tripods within the doorway of the tent, and at intervals in the gardens. + In a large hall a string band consoled those whose years or lungs would + not permit of the more vigorous out-door entertainments. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz made known to Paul Maggie’s desire to risk her life on the + ice-hills, and gallantly proposed to take care of the princess until his + return. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Etta gayly, “you must skate. It is much too + cold to stand about. They are going to dance a cotillon.” + </p> + <p> + “If it is your command, princess, I obey with alacrity.” + </p> + <p> + Etta spoke rapidly, looking round her all the while with the bright + enjoyment which overspreads the faces of some women at almost any form of + entertainment, provided there be music, brilliant lights, and a crowd of + people. One cannot help wondering a little what the minds of such fair + ladies must consist of, to be thrown off their balance by such outward + influences. Etta’s eyes gleamed with excitement. She was beautifully + dressed in furs, which adornment she was tall and stately enough to carry + to full advantage. She held her graceful head with regal hauteur, every + inch a princess. She was enjoying her keenest pleasure—a social + triumph. No whisper escaped her, no glance, no nudge of admiring or + envious notice. On Steinmetz’s arm she passed out of the tent; the + touch of her hand on his sleeve reminded him of a thoroughbred horse + stepping on to turf, so full of life, of electric thrill, of excitement + was it. But then, Karl Steinmetz was a cynic. No one else could have + thought of comparing Etta’s self-complaisant humor to that of a + horse in a racing paddock. + </p> + <p> + They procured skates and glided off hand in hand, equally proficient, + equally practised, maybe on this same lake; for both had learned to skate + in Russia. + </p> + <p> + They talked only of the present, of the brilliancy of the fjte, of the + music, of the thousand lights. Etta was quite incapable of thinking or + talking of any other subject at that moment. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz distinguished Claude de Chauxville easily enough, and avoided + him with some success for a short time. But De Chauxville soon caught + sight of them. + </p> + <p> + “Here is M. de Chauxville,” said Etta, with a pleased ring in + her voice. “Leave me with him. I expect you are tired.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not tired, but I am obedient,” replied Steinmetz, as the + Frenchman came up with his fur cap in his hand, bowing gracefully. Claude + de Chauxville usually overdid things. There is something honest in a + clumsy bow which had no place in his courtly obeisance. + </p> + <p> + Although Steinmetz continued to skate in a leisurely way, he also held to + his original intention of looking on. He saw Paul and Maggie come back to + the edge of the lake, accompanied by an English lady of some importance in + Russia, with whom Maggie presently went away to the concert-room. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz glided up to Paul, who was lighting a cigarette at the edge of + the pond, where an attendant stood by an open wood fire with cigarettes + and hot beverages. + </p> + <p> + “Get a pair of skates,” said the German. “This ice is + marvellous—colossa-a-a-l.” + </p> + <p> + He amused himself with describing figures, like a huge grave-minded boy, + until Paul joined him. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Etta?” asked the prince at once. + </p> + <p> + “Over there with De Chauxville.” + </p> + <p> + Paul said nothing for a few moments. They skated side by side round the + lake. It was too cold to stand still even for a minute. + </p> + <p> + “I told you,” remarked Paul at length, “that that fellow + is coming to Thors.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish he would go to the devil,” said Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + “No doubt he will in time,” answered Paul carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but not soon enough. I assure you, Paul, I do not like it. We + are just in that position that the least breath of suspicion will get us + into endless trouble. The authorities know that Stipan Lanovitch has + escaped. At any moment the Charity League scandal may be resuscitated. We + do not want fellows like De Chauxville prowling about. I know the man. He + is a d—d scoundrel who would sell his immortal soul if he could get + a bid for it. What is he coming to Thors for? He is not a sportsman; why, + he would be afraid of a cock pheasant, though he would be plucky enough + among the hens. You don’t imagine he is in love with Catrina, do + you?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Paul sharply, “I don’t.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz raised his bushy eyebrows. Etta and De Chauxville skated past + them at that moment, laughing gayly. + </p> + <p> + “I have been thinking about it,” went on Steinmetz, “and + I have come to the conclusion that our friend hates you personally. He has + a grudge against you of some sort. Of course he hates me—cela va + sans dire. He has come to Russia to watch us. That I am convinced of. He + has come here bent on mischief. It may be that he is hard up and is to be + bought. He is always to be bought, ce bon De Chauxville, at a price. We + shall see.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz paused and glanced at Paul. He could not tell him more. He could + not tell him that his wife had sold the Charity League papers to those who + wanted them. He could not tell him all that he knew of Etta’s past. + None of these things could Karl Steinmetz, in the philosophy that was his, + tell to the person whom they most concerned. And who are we that we may + hold him wrong? The question of telling and withholding is not to be + dismissed in a few words. But it seems very certain that there is too much + telling, too much speaking out, and too little holding in, in these days + of much publicity. There is a school of speakers-out, and would to Heaven + they would learn to hold their tongues. There is a school for calling a + spade by no other name, and they have still to learn that the world is by + no means interested in their clatter of shovels. + </p> + <p> + The Psalmist knew much of which he did not write, and the young men of the + modern school of poesy and fiction know no more, but they lack the good + taste of the singer of old. That is all. + </p> + <p> + Karl Steinmetz was a man who formed his opinion on the best basis—namely, + experience, and that had taught him that a bold reticence does less harm + to one’s neighbor than a weak volubility. + </p> + <p> + Paul was an easy subject for such treatment. His own method inclined to + err on the side of reticence. He gave few confidences and asked none, as + is the habit of Englishmen. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “I do not suppose he will stay long at + Thors, and I know that he will not stay at all at Osterno. Besides, what + harm can he actually do to us? He cannot well go about making enquiries. + To begin with, he knows no Russian.” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt that,” put in Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + “And, even if he does, he cannot come poking about in Osterno. + Catrina will give him no information. Maggie hates him. You and I know + him. There is only the countess.” + </p> + <p> + “Who will tell him all she knows! She would render that service to a + drosky driver.” + </p> + <p> + Paul shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + There was no mention of Etta. They stood side by side, both thinking of + her, both looking at her, as she skated with De Chauxville. There lay the + danger, and they both knew it. But she was the wife of one of them and + their lips were necessarily sealed. + </p> + <p> + “And it will be permitted,” Claude de Chauxville happened to + be saying at that moment, “that I call and pay my respects to an + exiled princess?” + </p> + <p> + “There will be difficulties,” answered Etta, in that tone + which makes it necessary to protest that difficulties are nothing under + some circumstances—the which De Chauxville duly protested with much + fervor. + </p> + <p> + “You think that twenty miles of snow would deter me,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Well, they might.” + </p> + <p> + “They might if—well—” + </p> + <p> + He left the sentence unfinished—the last resource of the sneak and + the coward who wishes to reserve to himself the letter of the denial in + the spirit of the meanest lie. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV — HOME + </h2> + <p> + A tearing, howling wind from the north—from the boundless snow-clad + plains of Russia that lie between the Neva and the Yellow Sea; a gray sky + washed over as with a huge brush dipped in dirty whitening; and the plains + of Tver a spotless, dazzling level of snow. + </p> + <p> + The snow was falling softly and steadily, falling, as it never falls in + England, in little more than fine powder, with a temperature forty degrees + below freezing-point. A drift—constant, restless, never altering—sped + over the level plain like the dust on a high-road before a steady wind. + This white scud—a flying scud of frozen water—was singularly + like the scud that is blown from the crest of the waves by a cyclone in + the China Seas. Any object that broke the wind—a stunted pine, a + broken tree-trunk, a Government road-post—had at its leeward side a + high, narrow snow-drift tailing off to the dead level of the plain. Where + the wind dropped the snow rose at once. But these objects were few and far + between. The deadly monotony of the scene—the trackless level, the + preposterous dimensions of the plain, the sense of distance that is + conveyed only by the steppe and the great desert of Gobi when the snow + lies on it—all these tell the same grim truth to all who look on + them: the old truth that man is but a small thing and his life but as the + flower of the grass. + </p> + <p> + Across the plain of Tver, before the north wind, a single sleigh was + tearing as fast as horse could lay hoof to ground—a sleigh driven by + Paul Howard Alexis, and the track of it was as a line drawn from point to + point across a map. + </p> + <p> + A striking feature of the winter of Northern Russia is the glorious + uncertainty of its snowfalls. At Tver the weather-wise had said: + </p> + <p> + “The snow has not all fallen yet. More is coming. It is yellow in + the sky, although March is nearly gone.” + </p> + <p> + The landlord of the hotel (a good enough resting-place facing the broad + Volga) had urged upon M. le Prince the advisability of waiting, as is the + way of landlords all the world over. But Etta had shown a strange + restlessness, a petulant desire to hurry forward at all risks. She hated + Tver; the hotel was uncomfortable, there was an unhealthy smell about the + place. + </p> + <p> + Paul acceded readily enough to her wishes. He rather liked Tver. In a way + he was proud of this busy town—a centre of Russian civilization. He + would have liked Etta to be favorably impressed with it, as any prejudice + would naturally reflect upon Osterno, 140 miles across the steppe. But + with a characteristic silent patience he made the necessary preparations + for an immediate start. + </p> + <p> + The night express from St. Petersburg had deposited them on the platform + in the early morning. Steinmetz had preceded them. Closed sleighs from + Osterno were awaiting them. A luxurious breakfast was prepared at the + hotel. Relays of horses were posted along the road. The journey to Osterno + had been carefully planned and arranged by Steinmetz—a king among + organizers. The sleigh drive across the steppe was to be accomplished in + ten hours. + </p> + <p> + The snow had begun to fall as they clattered across the floating bridge of + Tver. It had fallen ever since, and the afternoon lowered gloomily. In + America such visitations are called “blizzards”; here in + Russia it is merely “the snow.” The freezing wind is taken as + a matter of course. + </p> + <p> + At a distance of one hundred miles from Tver, the driver of the sleigh + containing Etta, Maggie, and Paul had suddenly rolled off his perch. His + hands were frostbitten; a piteous blue face peered out at his master + through ice-laden eyebrows, mustache, and beard. In a moment Maggie was + out in the snow beside the two men, while Etta hastily closed the door. + </p> + <p> + “He is all right,” said Paul; “it is only the cold. Pour + some brandy into his mouth while I hold the ice aside. <i>Don’t</i> + take off your gloves. The flask will stick to your fingers.” + </p> + <p> + Maggie obeyed with her usual breezy readiness, turning to nod reassurance + to Etta, who, truth to tell, had pulled up the rime-covered windows, + shutting out the whole scene. + </p> + <p> + “He must come inside,” said Maggie. “We are nice and + warm with all the hot-water cans.” + </p> + <p> + Paul looked rather dubiously toward the sleigh. + </p> + <p> + “You can carry him, I suppose?” said the girl cheerfully. + “He is not very big—he is all fur coat.” + </p> + <p> + Etta looked rather disgusted, but made no objection, while Paul lifted the + frozen man into the seat he had just vacated. + </p> + <p> + “When you are cold I will drive,” cried Maggie, as Paul shut + the door. “I should love it.” + </p> + <p> + Thus it came about that a single sleigh was speeding across the plain of + Tver. + </p> + <p> + Paul, with the composure that comes of a large experience, gathered the + reins in his two hands, driving with both and with extended arms, after + the manner of Russian yemschiks. For a man must accommodate himself to + circumstance, and fingerless gloves are not conducive to a finished style + of handling the ribbons. + </p> + <p> + This driver knew that the next station was twenty miles off; that at any + moment the horses might break down or plunge into a drift. He knew that in + the event of such emergencies it would be singularly easy for four people + to die of cold within a few miles of help. But he had faced such + possibilities a hundred times before in this vast country, where the + standard price of a human life is no great sum. He was not, therefore, + dismayed, but rather took delight in battling with the elements, as all + strong men should, and most of them, thank Heaven, do. + </p> + <p> + Moreover he battled successfully, and before the moon was well up drew + rein outside the village of Osterno, to accede at last to the oft-repeated + prayer of the driver that he might return to his task. + </p> + <p> + “It is not meet,” the man had gruffly said, whenever a short + halt was made to change horses, “that a great prince should drive a + yemschik.” + </p> + <p> + “It is meet,” answered Paul simply, “for one man to help + another.” + </p> + <p> + Then this man of deeds and not of words clambered into the sleigh and drew + up the windows, hiding his head as he drove through his own village, where + every man was dependent for life and being on his charity. + </p> + <p> + They were silent, for the ladies were tired and cold. + </p> + <p> + “We shall soon be there,” said Paul reassuringly. But he did + not lower the windows and look out, as any man might have wished to do on + returning to the place of his birth. + </p> + <p> + Maggie sat back, wrapped in her furs. She was meditating over the events + of the day, and more particularly over a certain skill, a quickness of + touch, a deft handling of stricken men which she had noted far out on the + snowy steppe a few hours earlier. Paul was a different man when he had to + deal with pain and sickness; he was quicker, brighter, full of confidence + in himself. For the great sympathy was his—that love of the neighbor + which is thrown like a mantle over the shoulders of some men, making them + different from their fellows, securing to them that love of great and + small which, perchance, follows some when they are dead to that place + where a human testimony may not be all in vain. + </p> + <p> + At the castle all was in readiness for the prince and princess, their + departure from Tver having been telegraphed. On the threshold of the great + house, before she had entered the magnificent hall, Etta’s eyes + brightened, her fatigue vanished. She played her part before the crowd of + bowing servants with that forgetfulness of mere bodily fatigue which is + expected of princesses and other great ladies. She swept up the broad + staircase, leaning on Paul’s arm, with a carriage, a presence, a + dazzling wealth of beauty, which did not fail to impress the onlookers. + Whatever Etta may have failed to bring to Paul Howard Alexis as a wife, + she made him a matchless princess. + </p> + <p> + He led her straight through the drawing-room to the suite of rooms which + were hers. These consisted of an ante-room, a small drawing-room, and her + private apartments beyond. + </p> + <p> + Paul stopped in the drawing-room, looking round with a simple satisfaction + in all that had been done by his orders for Etta’s comfort. + </p> + <p> + “These,” he said, “are your rooms.” + </p> + <p> + He was no adept at turning a neat phrase—at reeling off a pretty + honeymoon welcome. Perhaps he expected her to express delight, to come to + him, possibly, and kiss him, as some women would have done. + </p> + <p> + She looked round critically. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, “they are very nice.” + </p> + <p> + She crossed the room and drew aside the curtain that covered the + double-latticed windows. The room was so warm that there was no rime on + the panes. She gave a little shudder, and he went to her side, putting his + strong, quiet arm around her. + </p> + <p> + Below them, stretching away beneath the brilliant moonlight, lay the + country that was his inheritance, an estate as large as a large English + county. Immediately beneath them, at the foot of the great rock upon which + the castle was built, nestled the village of Osterno—straggling, + squalid. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she said dully, “this is Siberia; this is + terrible!” + </p> + <p> + It had never presented itself to him in that light, the wonderful stretch + of country over which they were looking. + </p> + <p> + “It is not so bad,” he said, “in the daylight.” + </p> + <p> + And that was all; for he had no persuasive tongue. + </p> + <p> + “That is the village,” he went on, after a little pause. + “Those are the people who look to us to help them in their fight + against terrible odds. I hoped—that you would be interested in them.” + </p> + <p> + She looked down curiously at the little wooden huts, half-buried in the + snow; the smoking chimneys; the twinkling, curtainless windows. + </p> + <p> + “What do you expect me to do?” she asked in a queer voice. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her in a sort of wonderment. Perhaps it seemed to him that a + woman should have no need to ask such a question. + </p> + <p> + “It is a long story,” he said; “I will tell you about it + another time. You are tired now, after your journey.” + </p> + <p> + His arm slipped from her waist. They stood side by side. And both were + conscious of a feeling of difference. They were not the same as they had + been in London. The atmosphere of Russia seemed to have had some subtle + effect upon them. + </p> + <p> + Etta turned and sat slowly down on a low chair before the fire. She had + thrown her furs aside, and they lay in a luxurious heap on the floor. The + maids, hearing that the prince and princess were together, waited silently + in the next room behind the closed door. + </p> + <p> + “I think I had better hear it now,” said Etta. + </p> + <p> + “But you are tired,” protested her husband. “You had + better rest until dinner-time.” + </p> + <p> + “No; I am not tired.” + </p> + <p> + He came toward her and stood with one elbow on the mantel-piece, looking + down at her—a quiet, strong man, who had already forgotten his feat + of endurance of a few hours earlier. + </p> + <p> + “These people,” he said, “would die of starvation and + cold and sickness if we did not help them. It is simply impossible for + them in the few months that they can work the land to cultivate it so as + to yield any more than their taxes. They are overtaxed, and no one cares. + The army must be kept up and a huge Civil Service, and no one cares what + happens to the peasants. Some day the peasants <i>must</i> turn, but not + yet. It is a question for all Russian land-owners to face, and nobody + faces it. If any one tries to improve the condition of his peasants—they + were happier a thousand times as serfs—the bureaucrats of Petersburg + mark him down and he is forced to leave the country. The whole fabric of + this Government is rotten, but every-one, except the peasants, would + suffer by its fall, and therefore it stands.” + </p> + <p> + Etta was staring into the fire. It was impossible to say whether she heard + with comprehension or not. Paul went on: + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing left, therefore, but to go and do good by stealth. + I studied medicine with that view. Steinmetz has scraped and economized + the working of the estate for the same purpose. The Government will not + allow us to have a doctor; they prevent us from organizing relief and + education on anything like an adequate scale. They do it all by underhand + means. They have not the pluck to oppose us openly! For years we have been + doing what we can. We have almost eradicated cholera. They do not die of + starvation now. And they are learning—very slowly, but still they + are learning. We—I—thought you might be interested in your + people; you might want to help.” + </p> + <p> + She gave a short little nod. There was a suggestion of suspense in her + whole being and attitude, as if she were waiting to hear something which + she knew could not be avoided. + </p> + <p> + “A few years ago,” he went on, “a gigantic scheme was + set on foot. I told you a little about it—the Charity League.” + </p> + <p> + Her lips moved, but no sound came from them, so she nodded a second time. + A tiny carriage-clock on the mantel-piece struck seven, and she looked up + in a startled way, as if the sound had frightened her. The castle was + quite still. Silence seemed to brood over the old walls. + </p> + <p> + “That fell through,” he went on, “as I told you. It was + betrayed. Stipan Lanovitch was banished. He has escaped, however; + Steinmetz has seen him. He succeeded in destroying some of the papers + before the place was searched after the robbery—one paper in + particular. If he had not destroyed that, I should have been banished. I + was one of the leaders of the Charity League. Steinmetz and I got the + thing up. It would have been for the happiness of millions of peasants if + it had not been betrayed. In time—we shall find out who did it.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. He did not say what he would do when he had found out. + </p> + <p> + Etta was staring into the fire. Her lips were dry. She hardly seemed to be + breathing. + </p> + <p> + “It is possible,” he went on in his strong, quiet, inexorable + voice, “that Stipan Lanovitch knows now.” + </p> + <p> + Etta did not move. She was staring into the fire—staring—staring. + </p> + <p> + Then she slowly fainted, rolling from the low chair to the fur hearth-rug. + </p> + <p> + Paul picked her up like a child and carried her to the bedroom, where the + maids were waiting to dress her. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” he said, “your mistress has fainted from the + fatigue of the journey.” + </p> + <p> + And, with his practised medical knowledge, he himself tended her. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV — OSTERNO + </h2> + <p> + “Always gay; always gay!” laughed Steinmetz, rubbing his broad + hands together and looking down into the face of Maggie, who was busy at + the breakfast-table. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered the girl, glancing toward Paul, leaning + against the window reading his letters. “Yes, always gay. Why not?” + </p> + <p> + Karl Steinmetz saw the glance. It was one of the little daily incidents + that one sees and half forgets. He only half forgot it. + </p> + <p> + “Why not, indeed?” he answered. “And you will be glad to + hear that Ivanovitch is as ready as yourself this morning to treat the + matter as a joke. He is none the worse for his freezing, and all the + better for his experience. You have added another friend, my dear young + lady, to a list which is, doubtless, a very long one.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a nice man,” answered Maggie. “How is it,” + she asked, after a little pause, “that there are more men in the + lower classes whom one can call nice than among their betters?” + </p> + <p> + Paul paused between two letters, hearing the question. He looked up as if + interested in the answer, but did not join in the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Because dealing with animals and with nature is more conducive to + niceness than too much trafficking with human beings,” replied + Steinmetz promptly. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose that is it,” said Maggie, lifting the tea-pot lid + and looking in. “At all events, it is the sort of answer one might + expect from you. You are always hard on human nature.” + </p> + <p> + “I take it as I find it,” replied Steinmetz, with a laugh, + “but I do not worry about it like some people. Now, Paul would like + to alter the course of the world.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke he half turned toward Paul, as if suggesting that he should + give an opinion, and this little action had the effect of putting a stop + to the conversation. Maggie had plenty to say to Steinmetz, but toward + Paul her mental attitude was different. She was probably unaware of this + little fact. + </p> + <p> + “There,” she said, after a pause, “I have obeyed Etta’s + instructions. She does not want us to begin, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Paul. “She will be down in a minute.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope the princess is not overtired,” said Steinmetz, with a + certain formal politeness which seemed to accompany any mention of Etta’s + name. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, thank you,” replied Etta herself, coming into the + room at that moment. She looked fresh and self-confident. “On the + contrary, I am full of energy and eagerness to explore the castle. One + naturally takes an interest in one’s baronial halls.” + </p> + <p> + With this she walked slowly across to the window. She stood there looking + out, and every one in the room was watching. On looking for the first time + on the same view, a few moments earlier, Maggie had uttered a little cry + of surprise, and had then remained silent. Etta looked out of the window + and said nothing. It was a most singular out-look—weird, uncouth, + prehistoric, as some parts of the earth still are. The castle was built on + the edge of a perpendicular cliff. On this side it was impregnable. Any + object dropped from the breakfast-room window would fall a clear two + hundred feet to the brawling Oster River. The rock was black, and shining + like the topmost crags of an Alpine mountain where snow and ice have + polished the bare stone. Beyond and across the river lay the boundless + steppe—a sheet of virgin snow. + </p> + <p> + Etta stood looking over this to the far horizon, where the white snow and + the gray sky softly merged into one. Her first remark was characteristic, + as first and last remarks usually are. + </p> + <p> + “And as far as you can see is yours?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Paul simply, with that calm which only comes + with hereditary possession. + </p> + <p> + The observation attracted Steinmetz’s attention. He went to another + window, and looked across the waste critically. + </p> + <p> + “Four times as far as we can see is his,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Etta looked out slowly and comprehensively, absorbing it all like a long, + sweet drink. There was no hereditary calmness in her sense of possession. + </p> + <p> + “And where is Thors?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Paul stretched out his arm, pointing with a lean, steady finger: + </p> + <p> + “It lies out there,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + Another of the little incidents that are only half forgotten. Some of the + persons assembled in that room remembered the pointing finger long + afterward. + </p> + <p> + “It makes one feel very small,” said Etta, turning to the + breakfast-table—“at no time a pleasant sensation. Do you know,” + she said, after a little pause, “I think it probable that I shall + become very fond of Osterno, but I wish it was nearer to civilization.” + </p> + <p> + Paul looked pleased. Steinmetz had a queer expression on his face. Maggie + murmured something about one’s surroundings making but little + difference to one’s happiness, and the subject was wisely shelved. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast Steinmetz withdrew. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Paul, “shall I show you the old place, you + and Maggie?” + </p> + <p> + Etta signified her readiness, but Maggie said that she had letters to + write, that Etta could show her the castle another time, when the men were + out shooting, perhaps. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Etta, “I shall do it horribly badly. They + are not my ancestors, you know. I shall attach the stories to the wrong + people, and locate the ghost in the wrong room. You will be wise to take + Paul’s guidance.” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you,” replied Maggie, quite firmly and frankly. + “I feel inclined to write; and the feeling is rare, so I must take + advantage of it.” + </p> + <p> + The girl looked at her cousin with something in her honest blue eyes that + almost amounted to wonder. Etta was always surprising her. There was a + whole gamut of feeling, an octave of callow, half-formed girlish + instincts, of which Etta seemed to be deprived. If she had ever had them, + no trace was left of their whilom presence. At first Maggie had flatly + refused to come to Russia. When Paul pressed her to do so, she accepted + with a sort of wonder. There was something which she did not understand. + </p> + <p> + The same instinct made her refuse now to accompany Paul and Etta over + their new home. Again Etta pressed her, showing her lack of some feeling + which Maggie indefinitely knew she ought to have had. This time Paul made + no sign. He added no word to Etta’s persuasions, but stood gravely + looking at his wife. + </p> + <p> + When the door had closed behind them, Maggie stood for some minutes by the + window looking out over the snow-clad plain, the rugged, broken rocks + beneath her. + </p> + <p> + Then she turned to the writing-table. She resolutely took pen and paper, + but the least thing seemed to distract her attention—the coronet on + the note-paper cost her five minutes of far-off reflection. She took up + the pen again, and wrote “Dear Mother.” + </p> + <p> + The room grew darker. Maggie looked up. The snow had begun again. It was + driving past the window with a silent, purposeful monotony. The girl drew + the writing-case toward her. She examined the pen critically and dipped it + into the ink. But she added nothing to the two words already written. + </p> + <p> + The castle of Osterno is almost unique in the particular that one roof + covers the ancient and the modern buildings. The vast reception-rooms, + worthy of the name of state-rooms, adjoin the small stone-built apartments + of the fortress which Paul’s ancestors held against the Tartars. + This grimmer side of the building Paul reserved to the last for reasons of + his own, and Etta’s manifest delight in the grandeur of the more + modern apartments fully rewarded him. Here, again, that side of her + character manifested itself which has already been shown. She was dazzled + and exhilarated by the splendor of it all, and the immediate effect was a + feeling of affection toward the man to whom this belonged; who was in act, + if not in word, laying it at her feet. + </p> + <p> + When they passed from the lofty rooms to the dimmer passages of the old + castle Etta’s spirits visibly dropped, her interest slackened. He + told her of tragedies enacted in by-gone times—such ancient tales of + violent death and broken hearts as attach themselves to gray stone walls + and dungeon keeps. She only half listened, for her mind was busy with the + splendors they had left behind, with the purposes to which such splendors + could be turned. And the sum total of her thoughts was gratified vanity. + </p> + <p> + Her bright presence awakened the gloom of ages within the dimly lit + historic rooms. Her laugh sounded strangely light and frivolous and + shallow in the silence of the ages which had brooded within these walls + since the days of Tamerlane. It was perhaps the greatest tragedy of the + Alexis family, this beautiful tragedy that walked by the side of Paul. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad your grandfather brought French architects here and built + the modern side,” she said. “These rooms are, of course, very + interesting, but gloomy—horribly gloomy, Paul. There is a smell of + ghosts and dulness.” + </p> + <p> + “All the same, I like these rooms,” answered Paul. “Steinmetz + and I used to live entirely on this side of the house. This is the + smoking-room. We shot those bears, and all the deer. That is a wolf’s + head. He killed a keeper before I finished him off.” + </p> + <p> + Etta looked at her husband with a curious little smile. She sometimes felt + proud of him, despite the ever present knowledge that, intellectually + speaking, she was his superior. There was something strong and simple and + manly in a sort of mediaeval way that pleased her in this big husband of + hers. + </p> + <p> + “And how did you finish him off?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I choked him. That bear knocked me down, but Steinmetz shot him. We + were four days out in the open after that elk. This is a lynx—a + queer face—rather like De Chauxville; the dogs killed him.” + </p> + <p> + “But why do you not paper the room,” asked Etta, with a + shiver, “instead of this gloomy panelling? It is so mysterious and + creepy. Quite suggestive of secret passages.” + </p> + <p> + “There are no secret passages,” answered Paul. “But + there is a room behind here. This is the door. I will show it to you + presently. I have things in there I want to show you. I keep all my + medicines and appliances in there. It is our secret surgery and office. In + that room the Charity League was organized.” + </p> + <p> + Etta turned away suddenly and went to the narrow window, where she sat on + a low window-seat, looking down into the snow-clad depths. + </p> + <p> + “I did not know you were a doctor,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I doctor the peasants,” replied Paul, “in a + rough-and-ready way. I took my degree on purpose. But, of course, they do + not know that it is I; they think I am a doctor from Moscow. I put on an + old coat, and wear a scarf, so that they cannot see my face. I only go to + them at night. It would never do for the Government to know that we + attempt to do good to the peasants. We have to keep it a secret even from + the people themselves. And they hate us. They groan and hoot when we drive + through the village. But they never attempt to do us any harm; they are + too much afraid of us.” + </p> + <p> + When Etta rose and came toward him her face was colorless. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see this room,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He opened the door and followed her into the apartment, which has already + been described. Here he told further somewhat bald details of the work he + had attempted to do. It is to be feared that he made neither an + interesting nor a romantic story of it. There were too many details—too + much statistic, and no thrilling realism whatever. The experiences of a + youthful curate in Bethnal Green would have made high tragedy beside the + tale that this man told his wife of the land upon which God has assuredly + laid His curse—Aceldama, the field of blood. + </p> + <p> + Etta listened, and despite herself she became interested. She was sitting + in a chair usually occupied by Steinmetz. There was a faint aroma of + tobacco-smoke. The atmosphere of the room was manly and energetic. + </p> + <p> + Paul showed her his simple stores of medicine—the old coat saturated + with disinfectants which had become the recognized outward sign of the + Moscow doctor. + </p> + <p> + “And do other people, other noblemen, try to do this sort of thing + too?” asked Etta at length. + </p> + <p> + “Catrina Lanovitch does,” replied Paul. + </p> + <p> + “What? The girl with the hair?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Paul. He had never noticed Catrina’s + hair. Etta’s appraising eye had seen more in one second than Paul + had perceived in twenty years. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered. “But, of course, she is handicapped.” + </p> + <p> + “By her appearance?” + </p> + <p> + “No; by her circumstances. Her name is sufficient to handicap her + every moment in this country. But she does a great deal. She—she + found me out, confound her!” + </p> + <p> + Etta had risen; she was looking curiously at the cupboard where Paul’s + infected clothes were hanging. He had forbidden her to go near it. She + turned and looked at him. + </p> + <p> + “Found you out! How?” she asked, with a queer smile. + </p> + <p> + “Saw through my disguise.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—she would do that!” said Etta aloud to herself. + </p> + <p> + “What is this door?” she asked, after a pause. + </p> + <p> + “It leads to an inner room,” replied Paul, “where + Steinmetz usually works.” + </p> + <p> + He passed in front of her and opened the door. As he was doing so Etta + went on in the train of her thoughts: + </p> + <p> + “So Catrina knows?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And no one else?” + </p> + <p> + Paul made no answer; for he had passed on into the smaller room, where + Steinmetz was seated at a writing-table. + </p> + <p> + “Except, of course, Herr Steinmetz?” Etta went on + interrogatively. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said the German, looking up with his pleasant smile, + “I know <i>every thing</i>.” + </p> + <p> + And he went on writing. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI — BLOODHOUNDS + </h2> + <p> + The table d’htte of the Httel de Moscou at Tver had just begun. The + soup had been removed; the diners were engaged in igniting their first + cigarette at the candles placed between each pair of them for that + purpose. By nature the modern Russian is a dignified and somewhat reserved + gentleman. By circumstance he has been schooled into a state of guarded + unsociability. If there is a seat at a public table conveniently removed + from those occupied by earlier arrivals the new-comer invariably takes it. + In Russia one converses—as in Scotland one jokes—with + difficulty. + </p> + <p> + A Russian table d’htte is therefore any thing but hilarious in its + tendency. A certain number of grave-faced gentlemen and a few broad-jowled + ladies are visibly constrained by the force of circumstance to dine at the + same table and hour, et voil` tout. There is no pretence that any more + sociable and neighborly motive has brought them together. Indeed, they + each suspect the other of being a German, or a Nihilist, or, worse still, + a Government servant. They therefore sit as far apart as possible, and + smoke cigarettes between and during the courses with that self-centred + absorption which would be rude, if it were not entirely satisfactory, to + the average Briton. The ladies, of course, have the same easy method of + showing a desire for silence and reflection in a country where nurses + carrying infants usually smoke in the streets, and where a dainty + confectioner’s assistant places her cigarette between her lips in + order to leave her hands free for the service of her customers. + </p> + <p> + The table d’htte of the Httel de Moscou at Tver was no exception to + the general rule. In Russia, by the way, there are no exceptions to + general rules. The personal habits of the native of Cronstadt differ in no + way from those of the Czar’s subject living in Petropavlovsk, eight + thousand miles away. + </p> + <p> + Around the long table of the host were seated, at respectable intervals, a + dozen or more gentlemen, who gazed stolidly at each other from time to + time, while the host himself smiled broadly upon them all from that end of + the room where the lift and the smell of cooking exercise their calling—the + one to spoil the appetite, the other to pander to it when spoilt. + </p> + <p> + Of these dozen gentlemen we have only to deal with one—a man of + broad, high forehead, of colorless eyes, of a mask-like face, who consumed + what was put before him with as little noise as possible. Known in Paris + as “Ce bon Vassili,” this traveller. But in Paris one does not + always use the word bon in its English sense of “good.” + </p> + <p> + M. Vassili was evidently desirous of attracting as little attention as + circumstances would allow. He was obviously doing his best to look like + one who travelled in the interest of braid or buttons. Moreover, when + Claude de Chauxville entered the table d’htte room, he concealed + whatever surprise he may have felt behind a cloud of cigarette smoke. + Through the same blue haze he met the Frenchman’s eye, a moment + later, without the faintest twinkle of recognition. + </p> + <p> + These two worthies went through the weird courses provided by a cook + professing a knowledge of French <i>cuisine</i> without taking any + compromising notice of each other. When the meal was over Vassili + inscribed the number of his bedroom in large figures on the label of his + bottle of St. Emilion—after the manner of wise commercial-travellers + in continental hotels. He subsequently turned the bottle round so that + Claude de Chauxville could scarcely fail to read the number, and with a + vague and general bow he left the room. + </p> + <p> + In his apartment the genial Vassili threw more wood into the stove, drew + forward the two regulation arm-chairs, and lighted all the candles + provided. He then rang the bell and ordered liqueurs. There was evidently + something in the nature of an entertainment about to take place in + apartment No. 44 of the Httel de Moscou. + </p> + <p> + Before long a discreet knock announced the arrival of the expected + visitor. + </p> + <p> + “Entrez!” cried Vassili; and De Chauxville stood before him, + with a smile which in French is called crbne. + </p> + <p> + “A pleasure,” said Vassili, behind his wooden face, “that + I did not anticipate in Tver.” + </p> + <p> + “And consequently one that carries its own mitigation. An + unanticipated pleasure, mon ami, is always inopportune. I make no doubt + that you were sorry to see me.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary. Will you sit?” + </p> + <p> + “I can hardly believe,” went on De Chauxville, taking the + proffered chair, “that my appearance was opportune—on the + principle, ha! ha! that a flower growing out of place is a weed. Gentlemen + of the—eh—Home Office prefer, I know, to travel quietly!” + He spread out his expressive hands as if smoothing the path of M. Vassili + through this stony world. “Incognito,” he added guilelessly. + </p> + <p> + “One does not publish one’s name from the housetops,” + replied the Russian, with a glimmer of pride in his eyes, “especially + if it happen to be not quite obscure; but between friends, my dear baron—between + friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Then what are you doing in Tver?” enquired De + Chauxville, with engaging frankness. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that is a long story. But I will tell you—never fear—I + will tell you on the usual terms.” + </p> + <p> + “Viz?” enquired the Frenchman, lighting a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + Vassili accepted the match with a bow, and did likewise. He blew a + guileless cloud of smoke toward the dingy ceiling. + </p> + <p> + “Exchange, my dear baron, exchange.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, certainly,” replied De Chauxville, who knew that Vassili + was in all probability fully informed as to his movements past and + prospective. “I am going to visit some old friends in this + Government—the Lanovitches, at Thors.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “You know them?” + </p> + <p> + Vassili raised his shoulders and made a little gesture with his cigarette, + as much as to say, “Why ask?” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville looked at his companion keenly. He was wondering whether + this man knew that he—Claude de Chauxville—loved Etta Howard + Alexis, and consequently hated her husband. He was wondering how much or + how little this impenetrable individual knew and suspected. + </p> + <p> + “I have always said,” observed Vassili suddenly, “that + for unmitigated impertinence give me a diplomatist.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! And what would you desire that I should, for the same + commodity, give you now?” + </p> + <p> + “A woman.” + </p> + <p> + There was a short silence in the room while these two birds of a feather + reflected. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Vassili tapped himself on the chest with his forefinger. + </p> + <p> + “It was I,” he said, “who crushed that very dangerous + movement—the Charity League.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it.” + </p> + <p> + “A movement, my dear baron, to educate the moujik, if you please. To + feed him and clothe him, and teach him—to be discontented with his + lot. To raise him up and make a man of him. Pah! He is a beast. Let him be + treated as such. Let him work. If he will not work, let him starve and + die.” + </p> + <p> + “The man who cannot contribute toward the support of those above him + in life is superfluous,” said De Chauxville glibly. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely. Now, my dear baron, listen to me!” The genial + Vassili leaned forward and tapped with one finger on the knee of De + Chauxville, as if knocking at the door of his attention. + </p> + <p> + “I am all ears, mon bon monsieur,” replied the Frenchman, + rather coldly. He had just been reflecting that, after all, he did not + want any favor from Vassili for the moment, and the manner of the latter + was verging on the familiar. + </p> + <p> + “The woman—who—sold—me—the Charity League + papers dined at my house in Paris—a fortnight ago,” said + Vassili, with a staccato tap on his companion’s knee by way of + emphasis to each word. + </p> + <p> + “Then, my friend, I cannot—congratulate—you—on the + society—in—which you move,” replied De Chauxville, + mimicking his manner. + </p> + <p> + “Bah! She was a princess!” + </p> + <p> + “A princess?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of your acquaintance, M. le Baron! And she came to my house + with her—eh—husband—the Prince Paul Howard Alexis.” + </p> + <p> + This was news indeed. De Chauxville leaned back and passed his slim white + hand across his brow with a slow pressure, as if wiping some writing from + a slate—as if his forehead bore the writing of his thoughts and he + was wiping it away. And the thoughts he thus concealed—who can count + them? For thoughts are the quickest and the longest and the saddest things + of this life. The first thought was that if he had known this three months + earlier he could have made Etta marry him. And that thought had a thousand + branches. With Etta for his wife he might have been a different man. One + can never tell what the effect of an acquired desire may be. One can only + judge by analogy, and it would seem that it is a frustrated desire that + makes the majority of villains. + </p> + <p> + But the news coming, thus too late, only served an evil purpose. For in + that flash of thought Claude de Chauxville saw Paul’s secrets given + to him; Paul’s wealth meted out to him; Paul in exile; Paul dead in + Siberia, where death comes easily; Paul’s widow Claude de Chauxville’s + wife. He wiped all the thoughts away, and showed to Vassili a face that + was as composed and impertinent as usual. + </p> + <p> + “You said ‘her—eh—husband,’” he + observed. “Why? Why did you add that little ‘eh,’ my + friend?” + </p> + <p> + Vassili rose and walked to the door that led through into his bedroom from + the salon in which they were sitting. It was possible to enter the bedroom + from another door and overhear any conversation that might be passing in + the sitting-room. The investigation was apparently satisfactory, for the + Russian came back. But he did not sit down. Instead, he stood leaning + against the tall china stove. + </p> + <p> + “Needless to tell you,” he observed, “the antecedents of + the—princess.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite needless.” + </p> + <p> + “Married seven years ago to Charles Sydney Bamborough,” + promptly giving the unnecessary information which was not wanted. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Sydney Bamborough?” asked Vassili, with his + mask-like smile. + </p> + <p> + “Dead,” replied the other quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Prove it.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville looked up sharply. The cigarette dropped from his fingers to + the floor. His face was yellow and drawn, with a singular tremble of the + lips, which were twisted to one side. + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” he whispered hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + There was only one thought in his mind—a sudden wild desire to rise + up and stand by Etta against the whole world. Verily we cannot tell what + love may make of us, whither it may lead us. We only know that it never + leaves us as it found us. + </p> + <p> + Then, leaning quietly against the stove, Vassili stated his case. + </p> + <p> + “Rather more than a year ago,” he said, “I received an + offer of the papers connected with a great scheme in this country. After + certain enquiries had been made I accepted the offer. I paid a fabulous + price for the papers. They were brought to me by a lady wearing a thick + veil—a lady I had never seen before. I asked no questions, and paid + her the money. It subsequently transpired that the papers had been stolen, + as you perhaps know, from the house of Count Stipan Lanovitch—the + house to which you happen to be going—at Thors. Well, that is all + ancient history. It is to be supposed that the papers were stolen by + Sydney Bamborough, who brought them here—probably to this hotel, + where his wife was staying. He handed her the papers, and she conveyed + them to me in Paris. But before she reached Petersburg they would have + been missed by Stipan Lanovitch, who would naturally suspect the man who + had been staying in his house, Bamborough—a man with a doubtful + reputation in the diplomatic world, a professed doer of dirty jobs. + Foreseeing this, and knowing that the League was a big thing, with a few + violent members on its books, Sydney Bamborough did not attempt to leave + Russia by the western route. He probably decided to go through Nijni, down + the Volga, across the Caspian, and so on to Persia and India. You follow + me?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly!” answered De Chauxville coldly. + </p> + <p> + “I have been here a week,” went on the Russian spy, “making + enquiries. I have worked the whole affair out, link by link, till the + evening when the husband and wife parted. She went west with the papers. + Where did he go?” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville picked up the cigarette, looked at it curiously, as at a + relic—the relic of the moment of strongest emotion through which he + had ever passed—and threw it into the ash-tray. He did not speak, + and after a moment Vassili went on, stating his case with lawyer-like + clearness. + </p> + <p> + “A body was found on the steppe,” he said; “the body of + a middle-aged man dressed as a small commercial traveller would dress. He + had a little money in his pocket, but nothing to identify him. He was + buried here in Tver by the police, who received their information by an + anonymous post-card posted in Tver. The person who had found the body did + not want to be implicated in any enquiry. Now, who found the body? Who was + the dead man? Mrs. Sydney Bamborough has assumed that the dead man was her + husband; on the strength of that assumption she has become a princess. A + frail foundation upon which to build up her fortunes, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “How did she know that the body had been found?” asked De + Chauxville, perceiving the weak point in his companion’s chain of + argument. + </p> + <p> + “It was reported shortly in the local newspapers,” replied + Vassili, “and repeated in one or two continental journals, as the + police were of opinion that the man was a foreigner. Any one watching the + newspapers would see it—otherwise the incident might pass + unobserved.” + </p> + <p> + “And you think,” said De Chauxville, suppressing his + excitement with an effort, “that the lady has risked every thing + upon a supposition?” + </p> + <p> + “Knowing the lady, I do.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville’s dull eyes gleamed for a moment with an unwonted + light. All the civilization of the ages will not eradicate the primary + instincts of men—and one of these, in good and bad alike, is to + protect women. The Frenchman bit the end of his cigarette, and angrily + wiped the tobacco from his lips. + </p> + <p> + “She may have information of which you are ignorant,” he + suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely. It is that particular point which gives me trouble at + the present moment. It is that that I wish to discover.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville looked up coolly. He saw his advantage. + </p> + <p> + “Hence your sudden flow of communicativeness?” he said. + </p> + <p> + Vassili nodded. + </p> + <p> + “You cannot find out for yourself, so you seek my help?” went + on the Frenchman. + </p> + <p> + Again the Russian nodded his head. + </p> + <p> + “And your price?” said De Chauxville, drawing in his feet and + leaning forward, apparently to study the pattern of the carpet. The action + concealed his face. He was saving Etta, and he was ashamed of himself. + </p> + <p> + “When you have the information you may name your own price,” + said the Russian coldly. + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence. Before speaking De Chauxville turned and took a + glass of liqueur from the table. His hand was not quite steady. He raised + the glass quickly and emptied it. Then he rose and looked at his watch. + The silence was a compact. + </p> + <p> + “When the lady dined with you in Paris, did she recognize you?” + he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but she did not know that I recognized her.” + </p> + <p> + For the moment they both overlooked Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville stood reflecting. + </p> + <p> + “And your theory,” he said, “respecting Sydney + Bamborough—what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “If he got away to Nijni and the Volga, it is probable that he is in + Eastern Siberia or in Persia at this moment. He has not had time to get + right across Asia yet.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville moved toward the door. With his fingers on the handle he + paused again. + </p> + <p> + “I leave early to-morrow morning,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Vassili nodded, or rather he bowed, in his grand way. + </p> + <p> + Then De Chauxville went out of the room. They did not shake hands. There + is sometimes shame among thieves. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII — IN THE WEB + </h2> + <p> + “What I propose is that Catrina takes you for a drive, my dear + baron, with her two ponies.” + </p> + <p> + The countess had taken very good care to refrain from making this proposal + to Catrina alone. She was one of those mothers who rule their daughters by + springing surprises upon them in a carefully selected company where the + daughter is not free to reply. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville bowed with outspread hands. + </p> + <p> + “If it will not bore mademoiselle,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + The countess looked at her daughter with an unctuous smile, as if to urge + her on to make the most of this opportunity. It was one of the countess’s + chief troubles that she could not by hook or crook involve Catrina in any + sort of a love intrigue. She was the sort of mother who would have + preferred to hear scandal about her daughter to hearing nothing. + </p> + <p> + “If it will not freeze monsieur,” replied Catrina, with + uncompromising honesty. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville laughed in his frank way. + </p> + <p> + “I am not afraid of coldness—of the atmosphere, mademoiselle,” + he replied. “I am most anxious to see your beautiful country. It was + quite dark during the last hour of my journey last night, and I had + snow-sleepiness. I saw nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “You will see nothing but snow,” said Catrina. + </p> + <p> + “Which is like the reserve of a young girl,” added the + Frenchman. “It keeps warm that which is beneath it.” + </p> + <p> + “You need not be afraid with Catrina,” chimed in the countess, + nodding and becking in a manner that clearly showed her assumption to + herself of some vague compliment. “She drives beautifully. She is + not nervous in that way. I have never seen any one drive like her.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no doubt,” said De Chauxville, “that + mademoiselle’s hands are firm, despite their diminutiveness.” + </p> + <p> + The countess was charmed—and showed it. She frowned at Catrina, who + remained grave and looked at the clock. + </p> + <p> + “When would you like to go?” she asked De Chauxville, with + that complete absence of affectation which the Russian, of all women of + the world, alone have mastered in their conversation with men. + </p> + <p> + “Am I not at your service—now and always?” responded the + gallant baron. + </p> + <p> + “I hope not,” replied Catrina quietly. “There are + occasions when I have no use for you. Shall we say eleven o’clock?” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure. Then I will go and write my letters now,” said + the baron, quitting the room. + </p> + <p> + “A charming man!” ejaculated the countess, before the door was + well closed. + </p> + <p> + “A fool!” corrected Catrina. + </p> + <p> + “I do not think you can say that, dear,” sighed the countess, + more in sorrow than in anger. + </p> + <p> + “A clever one,” answered Catrina. “There is a + difference. The clever ones are the worst.” + </p> + <p> + The countess shrugged her shoulders hopelessly, and Catrina left the room. + She went upstairs to her own little den, where the piano stood. It was the + only room in the house that was not too warm, for here the window was + occasionally opened—a proceeding which the countess considered + scarcely short of criminal. + </p> + <p> + Catrina began to play, feverishly, nervously, with all the weird force of + her nature. She was like a very sick person seeking a desperate remedy—racing + against time. It was her habit to take her breaking heart thus to the + great masters, to interpret their thoughts in their music, welding their + melodies to the needs of her own sorrow. She only had half an hour. Of + late music had failed her a little. It had not given her the comfort she + had usually extracted from solitude and the piano. She was in a dangerous + humor. She was afraid of trusting herself to De Chauxville. The time fled, + and her humor did not change. She was still playing when the door opened, + and the countess stood before her flushed and angry, either or both being + the effect of stairs upon emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Catrina!” the elder lady exclaimed. “The sleigh is at + the door, and the count is waiting. I cannot tell what you are thinking + of. It is not every-body who would be so attentive to you. Just look at + your hair. Why can’t you dress like other girls?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I am not made like other girls,” replied Catrina—and + who knows what bitterness of reproach there was in such an answer from + daughter to mother? + </p> + <p> + “Hush, child,” replied the countess, whose anger usually took + the form of personal abuse. “You are as the good God made you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the good God must have made me in the dark,” cried + Catrina, flinging out of the room. + </p> + <p> + “She will be down directly,” said the Countess Lanovitch to De + Chauxville, whom she found smoking a cigarette in the hall. “She + naturally—he! he!—wishes to make a careful toilet.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville bowed gravely, without committing himself to any + observation, and offered her a cigarette, which she accepted. Having + achieved his purpose, he did not now propose to convey the impression that + he admired Catrina. + </p> + <p> + In a few moments the girl appeared, drawing on her fur gloves. Before the + door was opened the countess discreetly retired to the enervating warmth + of her own apartments. + </p> + <p> + Catrina gathered up the reins and gave a little cry, at which the ponies + leaped forward, and in a whirl of driven snow the sleigh glided off + between the pines. + </p> + <p> + At first there was no opportunity of conversation, for the ponies were + fresh and troublesome. The road over which they were passing had not been + beaten down by the passage of previous sleighs, so that the powdery snow + rose up like dust, and filled the eyes and mouth. + </p> + <p> + “It will be better presently,” gasped Catrina, wrestling with + her fractious little Tartar thoroughbreds, “when we get out on to + the high-road.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville sat quite still. If he felt any misgiving as to her power of + mastering her team he kept it to himself. There was a subtle difference in + his manner toward Catrina when they were alone together, a suggestion of + camaraderie, of a common interest and a common desire, of which she was + conscious without being able to put definite meaning to it. + </p> + <p> + It annoyed and alarmed her. While giving her full attention to the + management of the sleigh, she was beginning to dread the first words of + this man, who was merely wielding a cheap power acquired in the shady + course of his career. There is nothing so disarming as the assumed air of + intimate knowledge of one’s private thoughts and actions. De + Chauxville assumed this air with a skill against which Catrina’s + dogged strength of character was incapable of battling. His manner + conveyed the impression that he knew more of Catrina’s inward + thoughts than any other living being, and she was simple enough to be + frightened into the conclusion that she had betrayed herself to him. There + is no simpler method of discovering a secret than to ignore its existence. + </p> + <p> + It is possible that De Chauxville became aware of Catrina’s sidelong + glances of anxiety in his direction. He may have divined that silence was + more effective than speech. + </p> + <p> + He sat looking straight in front of him, as if too deeply absorbed in his + own thoughts to take even a passing interest in the scenery. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you come here?” asked Catrina suddenly. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville seemed to awake from a revery. He turned and looked at her + in assumed surprise. They were on the high-road now, where the snow was + beaten down, so conversation was easy. + </p> + <p> + “But—to see you, mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not <i>that</i> sort of girl,” answered Catrina coldly. + “I want the truth.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville gave a short laugh and looked at her. + </p> + <p> + “Prophets and kings have sought the truth, mademoiselle, and have + not found it,” he said lightly. + </p> + <p> + Catrina made no answer to this. Her ponies required considerable + attention. Also, there are some minds like large banking houses—not + dealing in small change. That which passes in or out of such minds has its + own standard of importance. Such people are not of much use in these days, + when we like to touch things lightly, adorning a tale but pointing no + moral. + </p> + <p> + “I would ask you to believe that your society was one incentive to + make me accept the countess’s kind hospitality,” the Frenchman + observed after a pause. + </p> + <p> + “And?” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville looked at her. He had not met many women of solid intellect. + </p> + <p> + “And?” repeated Catrina. + </p> + <p> + “I have others, of course.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina gave a little nod and waited. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to be near Alexis,” added De Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + Catrina was staring straight in front of her. Her face had acquired a + habit of hardening at the mention of Paul’s name. It was stone-like + now, and set. Perhaps she might have forgiven him if he had loved her + once, if only for a little while. She might have forgiven him, if only for + the remembrance of that little while. But Paul had always been a man of + set purpose, and such men are cruel. Even for her sake, even for the sake + of his own vanity, he had never pretended to love Catrina. He had never + mistaken gratified vanity for dawning love, as millions of men do. Or + perhaps he was without vanity. Some few men are so constructed. + </p> + <p> + “Do you love him so?” asked Catrina, with a grim smile + distorting her strong face. + </p> + <p> + “As much as you, mademoiselle,” replied De Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + Catrina started. She was not sure that she hated Paul. Toward Etta, there + was no mistake in her feeling, and this was so strong that, like an + electric current, there was enough of it to pass through the wife and + reach the husband. + </p> + <p> + Passion, like character, does not grow in crowded places. In great cities + men are all more or less alike. It is only in solitary abodes that strong + natures grow up in their own way. Catrina had grown to womanhood in one of + the solitary places of the earth. She had no facile axiom, no powerful + precedent, to guide her every step through life. The woman who was in + daily contact with her was immeasurably beneath her in mental power, in + force of character, in those possibilities of love or hatred which go to + make a strong life for good or for evil. By the side of her daughter the + Countess Lanovitch was as the willow, swayed by every wind, in the + neighborhood of the oak, crooked and still and strong. + </p> + <p> + “In Petersburg you pledged yourself to help me,” said De + Chauxville. And although she knew that in the letter this was false, she + did not contradict him. “I came here to claim fulfilment of your + promise.” + </p> + <p> + The hard blue eyes beneath the fur cap stared straight in front of them. + Catrina seemed to be driving like one asleep, for she noted nothing by the + roadside. So far as eye could reach over the snow-clad plain, through the + silent pines, these two were alone in a white, dead world of their own. + Catrina never drove with bells. There was no sound beyond the high-pitched + drone of the steel runners over the powdery snow. They were alone; unseen, + unheard save of that Ear that listens in the waste places of the world. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want me to do?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not very much!” answered De Chauxville—a cautious + man, who knew a woman’s humor. Catrina driving a pair of ponies in + the clear, sharp air of Central Russia, and Catrina playing the piano in + the enervating, flower-scented atmosphere of a drawing-room, were two + different women. De Chauxville was not the man to mistake the one for the + other. + </p> + <p> + “Not very much, mademoiselle,” he answered. “I should + like Mme. la Comtesse to invite the whole Osterno party to dine, and + sleep, perhaps, if one may suggest it.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina wanted this too. She wanted to torture herself with the sight of + Etta, beautiful, self-confident, carelessly cognizant of Paul’s + love. She wanted to see Paul look at his wife with the open admiration + which she had set down as something else than love—something + immeasurably beneath love as Catrina understood that passion. Her soul, + brooding under a weight of misery, was ready to welcome any change, should + it only mean a greater misery. + </p> + <p> + “I can manage that,” she said, “if they will come. It + was a prearranged matter that there should be a bear-hunt in our forests.” + </p> + <p> + “That will do,” answered De Chauxville reflectively; “in + a few days, perhaps, if it suits the countess.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina made no reply. After a pause she spoke again, in her strange, + jerky way. + </p> + <p> + “What will you gain by it?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Who knows?” he answered. “There are many things I want + to know; many questions which can be answered only by one’s own + observation. I want to see them together. Are they happy?” + </p> + <p> + Catrina’s face hardened. + </p> + <p> + “If there is a God in heaven, and he hears our prayers, they ought + not to be,” she replied curtly. + </p> + <p> + “She looked happy enough in Petersburg,” said the Frenchman, + who never told the truth for its own sake. Whenever he thought that + Catrina’s hatred needed stimulation he mentioned Etta’s name. + </p> + <p> + “There are other questions in my mind,” he went on, “some + of which you can answer, mademoiselle, if you care to.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina’s face expressed no great willingness to oblige. + </p> + <p> + “The Charity League,” said De Chauxville, looking at her + keenly; “I have always had a feeling of curiosity respecting it. + Was, for instance, our friend the Prince Pavlo implicated in that + unfortunate affair?” + </p> + <p> + Catrina flushed suddenly. She did not take her eyes from the ponies. She + was conscious of the unwonted color in her cheeks, which was slowly dying + away beneath her companion’s relentless gaze. + </p> + <p> + “You need not trouble to reply, mademoiselle,” said De + Chauxville, with his dark smile; “I am answered.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina pulled the ponies up with a jerk, and proceeded to turn their + willing heads toward home. She was alarmed and disturbed. Nothing seemed + to be safe from the curiosity of this man, no secret secure, no + prevarication of the slightest avail. + </p> + <p> + “There are other questions in my mind,” said De Chauxville + quietly, “but not now. Mademoiselle is no doubt tired.” + </p> + <p> + He leaned back, and when at length he spoke it was to give utterance to + the trite commonplace of which he made a conversational study. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII — IN THE CASTLE OF THORS + </h2> + <p> + A week later Catrina, watching from the window of her own small room, saw + Paul lift Etta from the sleigh, and the sight made her clench her hands + until the knuckles shone like polished ivory. + </p> + <p> + She turned and looked at herself in the mirror. No one knew how she had + tried one dress after another since luncheon, alone in her two rooms, + having sent her maid down stairs. No one knew the bitterness in this girl’s + heart as she contemplated her own reflection. + </p> + <p> + She went slowly down stairs to the long, dimly lighted drawing-room. As + she entered she heard her mother’s cackling voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, princess,” the countess was saying, “it is a + quaint old house; little more than a fortified farm, I know. But my + husband’s family were always strange. They seem always to have + ignored the little comforts and elegancies of life.” + </p> + <p> + “It is most interesting,” answered Etta’s voice, and + Catrina stepped forward into the light. + </p> + <p> + Formal greetings were exchanged, and Catrina saw Etta look anxiously + toward the door through which she had just come. She thought that she was + looking for her husband. But it was Claude de Chauxville for whose + appearance Etta was waiting. + </p> + <p> + Paul and Steinmetz entered at the same moment by another door, and + Catrina, who was talking to Maggie in English, suddenly stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Catrina,” said Paul, “we have broken new ground for + you. There was no track from here to Osterno through the forest. I made + one this afternoon, so you have no excuse for remaining away, now.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” answered Catrina, withdrawing her cold hand + hurriedly from his friendly grasp. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Delafield,” went on Paul, “admires our country as + much as you do.” + </p> + <p> + “I was just telling mademoiselle,” said Maggie, speaking + French with an honest English accent. + </p> + <p> + Paul nodded, and left them together. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” the countess was saying at the other end of the gloomy + room; “yes, we are greatly attached to Thors: Catrina, perhaps, more + than I. I have some happy associations, and many sorrowful ones. But then—mon + Dieu!—how isolated we are!” + </p> + <p> + “It is rather far from—anywhere,” acceded Etta, who was + not attending, although she appeared to be interested. + </p> + <p> + “Far! Princess, I often wonder how Paris and Thors can be in the + same world! Before our—our troubles we used to live in Paris a + portion of the year. At least I did, while my poor husband travelled + about. He had a hobby, you know, poor man! Humanity was his hobby. I have + always found that men who seek to do good to their fellows are never + thanked. Have you noticed that? The human race is not grateful en gros. + There is a little gratitude in the individual, but none in the race.” + </p> + <p> + “None,” answered Etta absently. + </p> + <p> + “It was so with the Charity League,” went on the countess + volubly. She paused and looked round with her feeble eyes. + </p> + <p> + “We are all friends,” she went on; “so it is safe to + mention the Charity League, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Steinmetz from the fire-place; “no, + madame. There is only one friend to whom you may safely mention that.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Bad example!” exclaimed the countess playfully. “You + are there! I did not see you enter. And who is that friend?” + </p> + <p> + “The fair lady who looks at you from your mirror,” replied + Steinmetz, with a face of stone. + </p> + <p> + The countess laughed and shook her cap to one side. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she said, “I can do no harm in talking of such + things, as I know nothing of them. My poor husband—my poor mistaken + Stipan—placed no confidence in his wife. And now he is in Siberia. I + believe he works in a bootmaker’s shop. I pity the people who wear + the boots; but perhaps he only puts in the laces. You hear, Paul? He + placed no confidence in his wife, and now he is in Siberia. Let that be a + warning to you—eh, princess? I hope he tells you everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Put not your trust in princesses,” said Steinmetz from the + hearth-rug, where he was still warming his hands, for he had driven Maggie + over. “It says so in the Bible.” + </p> + <p> + “Princes, profane one!” exclaimed the countess with a laugh—“princes, + not princesses!” + </p> + <p> + “It may be so. I bow to your superior literary attainments,” + replied Steinmetz, looking casually and significantly at a pile of + yellow-backed foreign novels on a side-table. + </p> + <p> + “No,” the countess went on, addressing her conversation to + Etta; “no, my husband—figure to yourself, princess—told + me nothing. I never knew that he was implicated in this great scheme. I do + not know now who else was concerned in it. It was all so sudden, so + unexpected, so terrible. It appears that he kept the papers in this very + house—in that room through there. It was his study—” + </p> + <p> + “My dear countess, silence!” interrupted Steinmetz at this + moment, breaking into the conversation in his masterful way and enabling + Etta to get away. Catrina, at the other end of the room, was listening, + hard-eyed, breathless. It was the sight of Catrina’s face that made + Steinmetz go forward. He had not been looking at Catrina, but at Etta, who + was perfect in her composure and steady self-control. + </p> + <p> + “Do you want to enter the boot trade also?” asked Steinmetz + cheerfully, in a lowered voice. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven forbid!” cried the countess. + </p> + <p> + “Then let us talk of safer things.” + </p> + <p> + The short twilight was already brooding over the land. The room, lighted + only by small square windows, grew darker and darker until Catrina rang + for lamps. + </p> + <p> + “I hate a dark room,” she said shortly to Maggie. + </p> + <p> + When De Chauxville came in, a few minutes later, Catrina was at the piano. + The room was brilliantly lighted, and on the table gleamed and glittered + the silver tea-things. The intermediate meal had been disposed of, but the + samovar had been left alight, as is the habit at Russian afternoon teas. + </p> + <p> + Catrina looked up when the Frenchman entered, but did not cease playing. + </p> + <p> + “There is no need for introductions, I think,” said the + countess. + </p> + <p> + “We all know M. de Chauxville,” replied Paul quietly, and the + two men exchanged a glance. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville shook hands with the new-comers, and, while the countess + prepared tea for him, launched into a long description of the preparations + for the bear-hunt of the following day. He addressed his remarks + exclusively to Paul, as between enthusiasts and fellow-sportsmen. + Gradually Paul thawed a little, and made one or two suggestions which + betrayed a deep knowledge and a dawning interest. + </p> + <p> + “We shall only be three rifles,” said De Chauxville, “Steinmetz, + you, and I; and I must ask you to bear in mind the fact that I am no shot—a + mere amateur, my dear prince. The countess has been good enough to leave + the whole matter in my hands. I have seen the keepers, and I have arranged + that they come to-night at eleven o’clock to see us and to report + progress. They know of three bears, and are attempting to ring them.” + </p> + <p> + The Frenchman was really full of information and enthusiasm. There were + many details upon which he required Paul’s advice, and the two men + talked together with less constraint than they had hitherto done. De + Chauxville had picked up a vast deal of technical matter, and handled his + little knowledge with a skill which bade fair to deprive it of its + proverbial danger. He presently left Steinmetz and the prince engaged in a + controversy with the countess as to a meeting-place at the luncheon-hour. + </p> + <p> + Maggie and Catrina were at the piano. Etta was looking at a book of + photographs. + </p> + <p> + “A charming house, princess,” said De Chauxville, in a voice + that all could hear while the music happened to be soft. But Catrina’s + music was more remarkable for strength than for softness. + </p> + <p> + “Charming,” replied Etta. + </p> + <p> + The music rose into a swelling burst of harmonious chords. + </p> + <p> + “I must see you, princess,” said De Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + Etta glanced across the room toward her husband and Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + “Alone,” added the Frenchman coolly. + </p> + <p> + Etta turned a page of the album and looked critically into a photograph. + </p> + <p> + “Must!” she said, with a little frown. + </p> + <p> + “Must!” repeated De Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + “A word I do not care about,” said Etta, with raised eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + The music was soft again. + </p> + <p> + “It is ten years since I held a rifle,” said De Chauxville. + “Ah, madame, you do not know the excitement. I pity ladies, for they + have no sport—no big game.” + </p> + <p> + “Personally, monsieur,” answered Etta, with a bright laugh, + “I do not grudge you your big game. Suppose you miss the bear, or + whatever it may be?” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said De Chauxville, with a brave shrug of the + shoulders, “it is the turn of the bear. The excitement is his—the + laugh is with him.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina’s foot was upon the loud pedal again. + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, madame,” said De Chauxville, “I make so + bold as to use the word. You perhaps know me well enough to be aware that + I am rarely bold unless my ground is sure.” + </p> + <p> + “I should not boast of it,” answered Etta; “there is + nothing to be proud of. It is easy enough to be bold if you are certain of + victory.” + </p> + <p> + “When defeat would be intolerable, even a certain victory requires + care! And I cannot afford to lose.” + </p> + <p> + “Lose what?” enquired Etta. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville looked at her, but he did not answer. The music was soft + again. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose that at Osterno you set no value upon a bear-skin,” + he said after a pause. + </p> + <p> + “We have many,” admitted Etta. “But I love fur, or + trophies of any description. Paul has killed a great deal.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Etta, and the music rose again. “I + should like to know,” she went on, “upon what assumption you + make use of a word which does not often—annoy me.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a good memory, madame. Besides,” he paused, looking + round the room, “there are associations within these walls which + stimulate the memory.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” asked Etta, in a hard voice. The hand + holding the album suddenly shook like a leaf in the wind. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville had stood upright, his hand at his mustache, after the + manner of a man whose small-talk is exhausted. It would appear that he was + wondering how he could gracefully get away from the princess to pay his + devoirs elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell you now,” he answered; “Catrina is + watching us across the piano. You must beware, madame, of those cold blue + eyes.” + </p> + <p> + He moved away, going toward the piano, where Maggie was standing behind + Catrina’s chair. He was like a woman, inasmuch as he could not keep + away from his failures. + </p> + <p> + “Are you advanced, Miss Delafield?” he asked, with his + deferential little bow. “Are you modern?” + </p> + <p> + “I am neither; I have no desire for even the cheapest form of + notoriety. Why do you ask?” replied Maggie. + </p> + <p> + “I was merely wondering whether we were to count you among our + rifles to-morrow. One never knows what ladies will do next; not ladies—I + apologize—women. I suppose it is those who are not by birth ladies + who aspire to the proud name of women. The modern Woman—with a + capital W—is not a lady—n’est ce pas?” + </p> + <p> + “She does not mind your abuse, monsieur,” laughed Maggie. + “So long as you do not ignore her, she is happy. But you may set + your mind at rest as regards to-morrow. I have never let off a gun in my + life, and I am sensible enough not to begin on bears.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville made a suitable reply, and remained by the piano talking to + the two young ladies until Etta rose and came toward them. He then crossed + to the other side of the room and engaged Paul in the discussion of + further plans for the morrow. + </p> + <p> + It was soon time to dress for dinner, and Etta was forced to forego the + opportunity she sought to exchange a word alone with De Chauxville. That + astute gentleman carefully avoided allowing her this opportunity. He knew + the value of a little suspense. + </p> + <p> + During dinner and afterward, when at length the gentlemen came to the + drawing-room, the conversation was of a sporting tendency. Bears, + bear-hunting, and bear stories held supreme sway. More than once De + Chauxvilie returned to this subject. Twice he avoided Etta. + </p> + <p> + In some ways this man was courageous. He delayed giving Etta her + opportunity until there was a question of retiring to bed in view of the + early start required by the next day’s arrangements. It had been + finally settled that the three younger ladies should drive over to a + woodman’s cottage at the far end of the forest, where luncheon was + to be served. While this item of the programme was arranged De Chauxville + looked straight at Etta across the table. + </p> + <p> + At length she had the chance afforded to her, deliberately, by De + Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + “What did you mean?” she asked at once. + </p> + <p> + “I have received information which, had I known it three months ago, + would have made a difference in your life.” + </p> + <p> + “What difference?” + </p> + <p> + “I should have been your husband, instead of that thick-headed + giant.” + </p> + <p> + Etta laughed, but her lips were for the moment colorless. + </p> + <p> + “When am I to see you alone?” + </p> + <p> + Etta shrugged her shoulders. She had plenty of spirit. + </p> + <p> + “Please do not be dramatic or mysterious; I am tired. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + She rose and concealed a simulated yawn. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville looked at her with his sinister smile, and Etta suddenly saw + the resemblance which Paul had noted between this man and the grinning + mask of the lynx in the smoking-room at Osterno. + </p> + <p> + “When?” repeated he. + </p> + <p> + Etta shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to speak to you about the Charity League,” said De + Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + Etta’s eyes dilated. She made a step or two away from him, but she + came back. + </p> + <p> + “I shall not go to the luncheon to-morrow, if you care to leave the + hunt early.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville bowed. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX — ANGLO-RUSSIAN + </h2> + <p> + At bedtime Catrina went to Maggie’s room with her to see that she + had all that she could desire. A wood fire was burning brightly in the + open French stove; the room was lighted by lamps. It was warm and cheery. + A second door led to the little music-room which Catrina had made her own, + and beyond was her bedroom. + </p> + <p> + Maggie had assured her hostess that she had every thing that she could + wish, and that she did not desire the services of Catrina’s maid. + But the Russian girl still lingered. She was slow to make friends—not + shy, but diffident and suspicious. Her friendship once secured was a thing + worth possessing. She was inclined to bestow it upon this quiet, + self-contained English girl. In such matters the length of an acquaintance + goes for nothing. A long acquaintanceship does not necessarily mean + friendship—one being the result of circumstance, the other of + selection. + </p> + <p> + “The princess knows Russian?” said Catrina suddenly. + </p> + <p> + She was standing near the dressing-table, where she had been absently + attending to the candles. She wheeled round and looked at Maggie, who was + hospitably sitting on a low chair near the fire. She was sorry for the + loneliness of this girl’s life. She did not want her to go away just + yet. There was another chair by the fire, inviting Catrina to indulge in + those maiden confidences which attach themselves to slippers and + hair-brushings. + </p> + <p> + Maggie looked up with a smile which slowly ebbed away. Catrina’s + remark was of the nature of a defiance. Her half-diffident rtle of hostess + was suddenly laid aside. + </p> + <p> + “No; she does not,” answered the English girl. + </p> + <p> + Catrina came forward, standing over Maggie, looking down at her with eyes + full of antagonism. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me. I saw her understand a remark I made to one of the + servants. She was not careful. I saw it distinctly.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you must be mistaken,” answered Maggie quietly. + “She has been in Russia before for a few weeks; but she did not + learn the language. She told me so herself. Why should she pretend not to + know Russian, if she does?” + </p> + <p> + Catrina made no answer. She sat heavily down in the vacant chair. Her + attitudes were uncouth and strong—a perpetual source of tribulation + to the countess. She sat with her elbow on her knee, staring into the + fire. + </p> + <p> + “I did not mean to hate her; I did not want to,” she said. + “If it had been you, I should not have hated you.” + </p> + <p> + Maggie’s clear eyes wavered for a moment. A faint color rose to her + face. She leaned back so that the firelight did not reach her. There was a + silence, during which Maggie unclasped a bracelet with a little snap of + the spring. Catrina did not hear the sound. She heard nothing. She did not + appear to be aware of her surroundings. Maggie unclasped another bracelet + noisily. She was probably regretting her former kindness of manner. + Catrina had come too near. + </p> + <p> + “Are you not judging rather hastily?” suggested Maggie, in a + measured voice which heightened the contrast between the two. “I + find it takes some time to discover whether one likes or dislikes new + acquaintances.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but you English are so cold and deliberate. You do not know + what it is to hate—or to care.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps we do,” said Maggie; “but we say less about it.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina turned and looked at her with a queer smile. + </p> + <p> + “Less!” she laughed. “Nothing—you say nothing. + Paul is the same. I have seen. I know. You have said nothing since you + came to Thors. You have talked and laughed; you have given opinions; you + have spoken of many things, but you have said nothing. You are the same as + Paul—one never knows. I know nothing about you. But I like you. You + are her cousin?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And I hate her!” + </p> + <p> + Maggie laughed. She was quite steady and loyal. + </p> + <p> + “When you get to know her you will change, perhaps,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I know her now better than you do!” + </p> + <p> + Maggie laughed in her cheery, practical way. + </p> + <p> + “That seems hardly likely, considering that I have known her since + we were children.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina shrugged her shoulders in an honest if somewhat mannerless refusal + to discuss the side issue. She returned to the main question with + characteristic stubbornness. + </p> + <p> + “I shall always hate her,” she said. “I am sorry she is + your cousin. I shall always regret that, and I shall always hate her. + There is something wrong about her—something none of you know except + Karl Steinmetz. He knows every thing—Herr Steinmetz.” + </p> + <p> + “He knows a great deal,” admitted Maggie. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and that is why he is sad. Is it not so?” + </p> + <p> + Catrina sat staring into the fire, her strange, earnest eyes almost fierce + in their concentration. + </p> + <p> + “Did she pretend that she loved him at first?” she asked + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + Receiving no answer, she looked up and fixed her searching gaze on the + face of her companion. Maggie was looking straight in front of her in the + direction of the fire, but not with eyes focussed to see any thing so near + at hand. She bore the scrutiny without flinching. As soon as Catrina’s + eyes were averted the mask-like stillness of her features relaxed. + </p> + <p> + “She does not take that trouble now,” added the Russian girl, + in reply to her own question. “Did you see her to-night when we were + at the piano? M. de Chauxville was talking to her. They were keeping two + conversations going at the same time. I could see by their faces. They + said different things when the music was loud. I hate her. She is not true + to Paul. M. de Chauxville knows something about her. They have something + in common which is not known to Paul or to any of us! Why do you not + speak? Why do you sit staring into the fire with your lips so close + together?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I do not think that we shall gain any thing by discussing + Paul and his wife. It is no business of ours.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina laughed—a lamentable, mirthless laugh. + </p> + <p> + “That is because she is your cousin; and he—he is nothing to + you. You do not care whether he is happy or not!” + </p> + <p> + Catrina had turned upon her companion fiercely. Maggie swung round in her + chair to pick up her bracelets, which had slipped from her knees to the + floor. + </p> + <p> + “You exaggerate things,” she said quietly. “I see no + reason to suppose that Paul is unhappy. It is because you have taken this + unreasoning dislike to her.” + </p> + <p> + She took a long time to collect three bracelets. Then she rose and placed + them on the dressing-table. + </p> + <p> + “Do you want me to go?” asked Catrina, in her blunt way. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Maggie, civilly enough; but she extracted a + couple of hair-pins rather obviously. + </p> + <p> + Catrina heeded the voice and not the action. + </p> + <p> + “You English are all alike,” she said. “You hold one at + arm’s length. I suppose there is some one in England for whom you + care—who is out of all this—away from all the troubles of + Russia. This has nothing to do with your life. It is only a passing + incident—a few weeks to be forgotten when you go back. I wonder what + he is like—the man in England. You need not tell me. I am not + curious in that way. I am not asking you to tell me. I am just wondering. + For I know there is some one. I knew it when I first saw you. You are so + quiet, and settled, and self-contained—like a person who has played + a game and knows for certain that it is lost or won, and does not want to + play again. Your hair is very pretty; you are very pretty, you quiet + English girl. I wonder what you think about behind your steady eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “I?” said Maggie, with a little laugh. “Oh—I think + about my dresses, and the new fashions, and parties, and all the things + that girls do think of.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina shook her head. She looked stubborn and unconvinced. Then suddenly + she changed the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Do you like M. de Chauxville?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Does Paul like him?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina looked up for a moment only. Then her eyes returned to the + contemplation of the burning pine-logs. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder why you will not talk of Paul,” she said, in a voice + requiring no answer. + </p> + <p> + Maggie moved rather uneasily. She had her back turned toward Catrina. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I am rather a dull person,” she answered. “I + have not much to say about any body.” + </p> + <p> + “And nothing about Paul?” suggested Catrina. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. We were talking of M. de Chauxville.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I do not understand M. de Chauxville. He seems to me to be the + incarnation of insincerity. He poses—even to himself. He is always + watching for the effect. I wonder what the effect of himself upon himself + may be.” + </p> + <p> + Maggie laughed. + </p> + <p> + “That is rather complicated,” she said. “It requires + working out. I think he is deeply impressed with his own astuteness. If he + were simpler he would be cleverer.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina was afraid of Claude de Chauxville, and, because this was so, she + stared in wonder at the English girl, who dismissed him from the + conversation and her thoughts with a few careless words of contempt. Such + minds as that of Miss Delafield were quite outside the field of De + Chauxville’s influence, while that Frenchman had considerable power + over highly strung and imaginative natures. + </p> + <p> + Catrina Lanovitch had begun by tolerating him—had proceeded to make + the serious blunder of permitting him to be impertinently familiar, and + was now exaggerating in her own mind the hold that he had over her. She + did not actually dislike him. So few people had taken the trouble or found + the expediency of endeavoring to sympathize with her or understand her + nature, that she was unconsciously drawn toward this man whom she now + feared. + </p> + <p> + In exaggerating the power he exercised over herself she somewhat naturally + exaggerated also his importance in the world and in the lives of those + around him. She had imagined him all-powerful; and the first person to + whom she mentioned his name dismissed the subject indifferently. Her own + entire sincerity had enabled her to detect the insincerity of her ally. + She had purposely made mention of the weak spot which she had discovered, + in order that her observation might be corroborated. And this Maggie had + failed to do. + </p> + <p> + With the slightest encouragement, Catrina would have told her companion + all that had passed. The sympathy between women is so strong that there is + usually only one man who is safe from discussion. In Catrina’s case + that one man was not Claude de Chauxville. But Maggie Delafield was of + different material from this impressionable, impulsive Russian girl. She + was essentially British in her capacity for steering a straight personal + course through the shoals and quicksands of her neighbors’ affairs, + as also in the firm grip she held upon her own thoughts. She was by no + means prepared to open her mind to the first comer, and in her somewhat + slow-going English estimate of such matters Catrina was as yet little more + than the first comer. + </p> + <p> + She changed the subject, and they talked for some time on indifferent + topics—such topics as have an interest for girls; and who are we + that we may despise them? We jeer very grandly at girls’ talk, and + promptly return to the discussion of our dogs and pipes and clothing. + </p> + <p> + But Catrina was not happy under this judicious treatment. She had no one + in the world to whom she could impart a thousand doubts and questions—a + hundred grievances and one great grief. And it was just this one great + grief of which Maggie dreaded the mention. She was quite well aware of its + existence—had been aware of it for some time. Karl Steinmetz had + thrown out one or two vague hints; everything pointed to it. Maggie could + hardly be ignorant of the fact that Catrina had grown to womanhood loving + Paul. + </p> + <p> + A score of times Catrina approached the subject, and with imperturbable + steadfastness Maggie held to her determination that Paul was not to be + discussed by them. She warded, she evaded, she ignored with a skill which + baffled the simple Russian. She had a hundred subterfuges—a hundred + skilful turns and twists. Where women learn these matters, Heaven only + knows! All our experience of the world, our falls and stumbles on the + broken road of life, never teach us some things that are known to the + veriest schoolgirl standing on the smoother footpath that women tread. + </p> + <p> + At last Catrina rose to go. Maggie rose also. Women are relentless where + they fight for their own secrets. Maggie morally turned Catrina out of the + room. The two girls stood looking at each other for a moment. They had + nothing in common. The language in which they understood each other best + was the native tongue of neither. Born in different countries, each of a + mixed race with no one racial strain in common, neither creed, nor + education, nor similarity of thought had aught to draw them together. They + looked at each other, and God’s hand touched them. They both loved + the same man. They did not hate each other. + </p> + <p> + “Have you every thing you want?” asked Catrina. + </p> + <p> + The question was startling. Catrina’s speech was ever abrupt. At + first Maggie did not understand. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, thanks,” she answered. “I am very tired. I suppose + it is the snow.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Catrina mechanically; “it is the snow.” + </p> + <p> + She went toward the door, and there she paused. + </p> + <p> + “Does Paul love her?” she asked abruptly. + </p> + <p> + Maggie made no answer; and, as was her habit, Catrina replied to her own + question. + </p> + <p> + “You know he does not—you know he does not!” she said. + </p> + <p> + Then she went out, without waiting for an answer, closing the door behind + her. The closed door heard the reply. + </p> + <p> + “It will not matter much,” said Maggie, “so long as he + never finds it out.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX — WOLF! + </h2> + <p> + The Countess Lanovitch never quitted her own apartments before mid-day. + She had acquired a Parisian habit of being invisible until luncheon-time. + The two girls left the castle of Thors in a sleigh with one attendant at + ten o’clock in order to reach the hut selected for luncheon by + mid-day. Etta did not accompany them. She had a slight headache. + </p> + <p> + At eleven o’clock Claude de Chauxville returned alone, on horseback. + After the sportsmen had separated, each to gain his prearranged position + in the forest, he had tripped over his rifle, seriously injuring the + delicate sighting mechanism. He found (he told the servant who opened the + door for him) that he had just time to return for another rifle before the + operation of closing in on the bears was to begin. + </p> + <p> + “If Madame the Princess,” was visible, he went on, would the + servant tell her that M. de Chauxville was waiting in the library to + assure her that there was absolutely no danger to be anticipated in the + day’s sport. The princess, it would appear, was absurdly anxious + about the welfare of her husband—an experienced hunter and a dead + shot. + </p> + <p> + Claude de Chauxville then went to the library, where he waited, booted, + spurred, rifle in hand, for Etta. + </p> + <p> + After a lapse of five minutes or more, the door was opened, and Etta came + leisurely into the room. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” she enquired indifferently. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville bowed. He walked past her and closed the door, which she + happened to have left open. + </p> + <p> + Then he returned and stood by the window, leaning gracefully on his rifle. + His attitude, his hunting-suit, his great top-boots, made rather a + picturesque object of him. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” repeated Etta, almost insolently. + </p> + <p> + “It would have been wiser to have married me,” said De + Chauxville darkly. + </p> + <p> + Etta shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Because I understand you better; I <i>know</i> you better than your + husband.” + </p> + <p> + Etta turned and glanced at the clock. + </p> + <p> + “Have you come back from the bear-hunt to tell me this, or to avoid + the bears?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville frowned. A man who has tasted fear does not like a question + of his courage. + </p> + <p> + “I have come to tell you that and other things,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her with his sinister smile and a little upward jerk of the + head. He extended his open hand, palm upward, with the fingers slightly + crooked. + </p> + <p> + “I hold you, madame,” he said—“I hold you in my + hand. You are my slave, despite your brave title; my thing, my plaything, + despite your servants, and your great houses, and your husband! When I + have finished telling you all that I have to tell, you will understand. + You will perhaps thank me for being merciful.” + </p> + <p> + Etta laughed defiantly. + </p> + <p> + “You are afraid of Paul,” she cried. “You are afraid of + Karl Steinmetz; you will presently be afraid of me.” + </p> + <p> + “I think not,” said De Chauxville coolly. The two names just + mentioned were certainly not of pleasant import in his ears, but he was + not going to let a woman know that. This man had played dangerous cards + before now. He was not at all sure of his ground. He did not know what + Etta’s position was in regard to Steinmetz. Behind the defiant woman + there lurked the broad shadow of the man who never defied; who knew many + things, but was ignorant of fear. + </p> + <p> + Unlike Karl Steinmetz, De Chauxville was not a bold player. He liked to be + sure of his trick before he threw down his trump card. His method was not + above suspicion: he liked to know what cards his adversary held, and one + may be sure that he was not above peeping. + </p> + <p> + “Karl Steinmetz is no friend of yours,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Etta did not answer. She was thinking of the conversation she had had with + Steinmetz in Petersburg. She was wondering whether the friendship he had + offered—the solid thing as he called it—was not better than + the love of this man. + </p> + <p> + “I have information now,” went on De Chauxville, “which + would have made you my wife, had I had it sooner.” + </p> + <p> + “I think not,” said the lady insolently. She had dealt with + such men before. Hers was the beauty that appealed to De Chauxville and + such as he. It is not the beautiful women who see the best side of human + nature. + </p> + <p> + “Even now,” went on the Frenchman, “now that I know you—I + still love you. You are the only woman I shall ever love.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” murmured the lady, quite unmoved. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; although in a way I despise you—now that I know you.” + </p> + <p> + “Mon Dieu!” exclaimed Etta. “If you have any thing to + say, please say it. I have no time to probe your mysteries—to + discover your parables. You know me well enough, perhaps, to be aware that + I am not to be frightened by your cheap charlatanism.” + </p> + <p> + “I know you well enough,” retorted De Chauxville hoarsely, + “to be aware that it was you who sold the Charity League papers to + Vassili in Paris. I know you well enough, madame, to be aware of your + present position in regard to your husband. If I say a word in the right + quarter you would never leave Russia alive. I have merely to say to + Catrina Lanovitch that it was you who banished her father for your own + gain. I have merely to hand your name in to certain of the Charity League + party, and even your husband could not save you.” + </p> + <p> + He had gradually approached her, and uttered the last words face to face, + his eyes close to hers. She held her head up—erect, defiant still. + </p> + <p> + “So you see, madame,” he said, “you belong to me.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Hand and foot,” he added. “But I am soft-hearted.” + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders and turned away. + </p> + <p> + “What will you?” he said, looking out of the window. “I + love you.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + He turned slowly round. + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” repeated Etta. “You love power; you are a + bully. You love to please your own vanity by thinking that you have me in + your power. I am not afraid of you.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville leaned gracefully against the window. He still held his + rifle. + </p> + <p> + “Reflect a little,” he said, with his cold smile. “It + would appear that you do not quite realize the situation. Women rarely + realize situations in time. Our friend—your husband—has many + of the English idiosyncrasies. He has all the narrow-minded notions of + honor which obtain in that country. Added to this, I suspect him of + possessing a truly Slavonic fire which he keeps under. ‘A + smouldering fire—’ You know, madame, our French proverb. He is + not the man to take a rational and broad-minded view of your little + transaction with M. Vassili; more especially, perhaps, as it banished his + friend Stipan Lanovitch—the owner of this house, by the way. His + reception of the news I have to tell him would be unpleasant—for + you.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” interrupted Etta. “Money?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not a needy adventurer.” + </p> + <p> + “And I am not such a fool, M. de Chauxville, as to allow myself to + be dragged into a vulgar intrigue, borrowed from a French novel, to + satisfy your vanity.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville’s dull eyes suddenly flashed. + </p> + <p> + “I will trouble you to believe, madame,” he said, in a low, + concentrated voice, “that such a thought never entered my head. A De + Chauxville is not a commercial traveller, if you please. No; it may + surprise you, but my feeling for you has more good in it than you would + seem capable of inspiring. God only knows how it is that a bad woman can + inspire a good love.” + </p> + <p> + Etta looked at him in amazement. She did not always understand De + Chauxville. No matter for surprise, perhaps; for he did not always + understand himself. + </p> + <p> + “Then what do you want?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “In the meantime, implicit obedience.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to use me for?” + </p> + <p> + “I have ends,” replied Claude de Chauxville, who had regained + his usual half-mocking composure, “that you will serve. But they + will be your ends as well as mine. You will profit by them. I will take + very good care that you come to no harm, for you are the ultimate object + of all this. At the end of it all I see only—you.” + </p> + <p> + Etta shrugged her shoulders. It is to be presumed that she was absolutely + heartless. Many women are. It is when a heartless woman has brains that + one hears of her. + </p> + <p> + “What if I refuse?” asked Etta, keenly aware of the fact that + this man was handicapped by his love for her. + </p> + <p> + “Then I will force you to obedience.” + </p> + <p> + Etta raised her delicate eyebrows insolently. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said De Chauxville, with suppressed anger; “I + will force you to obey me.” + </p> + <p> + The princess looked at him with her little mocking smile. She raised one + hand to her head with a reflective air, as if a hair-pin were of greater + importance than his words. She had dressed herself rather carefully for + this interview. She never for a moment overlooked the fact that she was a + woman, and beautiful. She did not allow him to forget it either. + </p> + <p> + Her mood of outraged virtue was now suddenly thrown into the background by + a phase of open coquetry. Beneath her eyelids she watched for the effect + of her pretty, provoking attitude on the man who loved her. She was on her + own territory at this work, playing her own game; and she was more alarmed + by De Chauxville’s imperturbability than by any thing he had said. + </p> + <p> + “You have a strange way of proving the truth of your own statements.” + </p> + <p> + “What statements?” + </p> + <p> + She gave a little laugh. Her attitude, her glance, the cunning display of + a perfect figure, the laugh, the whole woman, was the incarnation of + practised coquetry. She did not admit, even to herself, that she was + afraid of De Chauxville. But she was playing her best cards, in her best + manner. She had never known them fail. + </p> + <p> + Claude de Chauxville was a little white about the lips. His eyelids + flickered, but by an effort he controlled himself, and she did not see the + light in his eyes for which she looked. + </p> + <p> + “If you mean,” he said coldly, “the statement that I + made to you before you were married—namely, that I love you—I + am quite content to leave the proof till the future. I know what I am + about, madame.” + </p> + <p> + He took his watch from his pocket and consulted it. + </p> + <p> + “I must go in five minutes,” he said. “I have a few + instructions to give you, to which I must beg your careful attention.” + </p> + <p> + He looked up, meeting Etta’s somewhat sullen gaze with a smile of + triumph. + </p> + <p> + “It is essential,” he went on, “that I be invited to + Osterno. I do not want to stay there long; indeed, I do not care to. But I + must see the place. I dare say you can compass the invitation, madame?” + </p> + <p> + “It will be difficult.” + </p> + <p> + “And therefore worthy of your endeavor. I have the greatest regard + for your diplomatic skill. I leave the matter in your hands, princess.” + </p> + <p> + Etta shrugged her shoulders and looked past him out of the window. De + Chauxville was considering her face carefully. + </p> + <p> + “Another point to be remembered,” he went on, “is your + husband’s daily life at Osterno. The prince is not above suspicion; + the authorities are watching him. He is suspected of propagating + revolutionary ideas among the peasantry. I should like you to find out as + much as you can. Perhaps you know already. Perhaps he has told you, + princess. I know that beautiful face! He has told you! Good! Does he take + an interest in the peasants?” + </p> + <p> + Etta did not answer. + </p> + <p> + “Kindly give me your attention, madame. Does the prince take an + interest in the peasants?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “An active interest?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any details?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Etta. + </p> + <p> + “Then you will watch him, and procure those details.” + </p> + <p> + Etta’s face was defiant and pale. De Chauxville never took his eyes + from it. + </p> + <p> + “I have undertaken a few small commissions for an old friend of + yours, M. Vassili, whom you obliged once before!” he said; and the + defiance faded from her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “The authorities cannot, in these disturbed times, afford to + tolerate princes of an independent turn of mind. Such men are apt to make + the peasant think himself more important than he is. I dare say, madame, + that you are already tired of Russia. It might perhaps serve your ends if + this country was made a little too hot for your husband, eh? I see your + proud lips quivering, princess! It is well to keep the lips under control. + We, who deal in diplomacy, know where to look for such signs. Yes; I dare + say I can get you out of Russia—for ever. But you must be obedient. + You must reconcile yourself to the knowledge that you have met—your + master.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed in his graceful way, spreading out his hands in mock humility. + Etta did not answer him. For the moment she could see no outlet to this + maze of trouble, and yet she was conscious of not fearing De Chauxville so + much as she feared Karl Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + “A lenient master,” pursued the Frenchman, whose vanity was + tickled by the word. “I do not ask much. One thing is to be invited + to Osterno, that I may be near you. The other is a humble request for + details of your daily life, that I may think of you when absent.” + </p> + <p> + Etta drew in her lips, moistening them as if they had suddenly become + parched. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville glanced at her and moved toward the door. He paused with his + fingers on the handle, and looking back over his shoulder he said: + </p> + <p> + “Have I made myself quite clear?” + </p> + <p> + Etta was still looking out of the window with hard, angry eyes. She took + no notice of the question. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville turned the handle. + </p> + <p> + “Again let me impress upon you the advisability of implicit + obedience,” he said, with delicate insolence. “I mentioned the + Charity League; but that is not my strongest claim upon your attention. I + have another interesting little detail of your life, which I will reserve + until another time.” + </p> + <p> + He closed the door behind him, leaving Etta white-lipped. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI — A DANGEROUS EXPERIMENT + </h2> + <p> + A Russian forest in winter is one of nature’s places of worship. + There are some such places in the world, where nature seems to stand in + the presence of the Deity; a sunrise at sea; night on a snow-clad + mountain; mid-day in a Russian forest in winter. These places and these + times are good for convalescent atheists and such as pose as unbelievers—the + cheapest form of notoriety. + </p> + <p> + Paul had requested Catrina and Maggie to drive as quietly as possible + through the forest. The warning was unnecessary, for the stillness of snow + is infectious, while the beauty of the scene seemed to command silence. As + usual, Catrina drove without bells. The one attendant on his perch behind + was a fur-clad statue of servitude and silence. Maggie, leaning back, + hidden to the eyes in her sables, had nothing to say to her companion. The + way lay through forests of pine—trackless, motionless, virgin. The + sun, filtering through the snow-laden branches, cast a subdued golden + light upon the ruddy upright trunks of the trees. At times a + willow-grouse, white as the snow, light and graceful on the wing, rose + from the branch where he had been laughing to his mate with a low, cooing + laugh, and fluttered away over the trees. + </p> + <p> + “A kooropatka,” said Catrina, who knew the life of the forest + almost as well as Paul, whose very existence was wrapped up in these + things. + </p> + <p> + Far over the summits of the pines a snipe seemed to be wheeling a sentinel + round. He followed them as they sped along, calling out all the while his + deep warning note, like that of a lamb crouching beneath a hedge where the + wind is not tempered. + </p> + <p> + Once or twice they heard the dismal howl of a wolf—the most + melancholy, the weirdest, the most hopeless of nature’s calls. The + whole forest seemed to be on the alert—astir and in suspense. The + wolf, disturbed in his lair, no doubt heard and understood the cry of the + watchful snipe and the sudden silence of the willow-grouse, who loves to + sit and laugh when all is safe. A clumsy capercailzie, swinging along over + the trees with a great flap and rush of wings, seemed to be intent on his + own solitary, majestic business—a very king among the fowls of the + air. + </p> + <p> + Amid the topmost branches of the pines the wind whispered and stirred like + a child in sleep; but beneath all was still. Every branch stood motionless + beneath its burden of snow. The air was thin, exhilarating, brilliant—like + dry champagne. It seemed to send the blood coursing through the veins with + a very joy of life. + </p> + <p> + Catrina noted all these things while cleverly handling her ponies. They + spoke to her with a thousand voices. She had roamed in these same forests + with Paul, who loved them and understood them as she did. + </p> + <p> + Maggie, in the midst as it were of a revelation, leaned back and wondered + at it all. She, too, was thinking of Paul, the owner of these boundless + forests. She understood him better now. This drive had revealed to her a + part of his nature which had rather puzzled her—a large, simple, + quiet strength which had developed and grown to maturity beneath these + trees. We are all part of what we have seen. We all carry with us through + life somewhat of the scenes through which we passed in childhood. + </p> + <p> + Maggie knew now where Paul had learnt the quiet concentration of mind, the + absorption in his own affairs, the complete lack of interest in the + business of his neighbor which made him different from other men. He had + learnt these things at first hand from God’s creatures. These + forest-dwellers of fur and feather went about their affairs in the same + absorbed way, with the same complete faith, the same desire to leave and + be left alone. The simplicity of Nature was his. His only craft was forest + craft. + </p> + <p> + “Now you know,” said Catrina, when they reached the hut, + “why I hate Petersburg.” + </p> + <p> + Maggie nodded. The effect of the forest was still upon her. She did not + want to talk. + </p> + <p> + The woman who received them, the wife of a keeper, had prepared in a rough + way for their reception. She had a large fire and bowls of warm milk. The + doors and windows had been thrown wide open by Paul’s orders. He + wanted to spare Maggie too intimate an acquaintance with a Russian + interior. The hut was really a shooting-box built by Paul some years + earlier, and inhabited by a head-keeper, one learned in the ways of bear + and wolf and lynx. The large dwelling-room had been carefully scrubbed. + There was a smell of pine-wood and soap. The table, ready spread with a + simple luncheon, took up nearly the whole of the room. + </p> + <p> + While the two girls were warming themselves, a keeper came to the door of + the hut and asked to see Catrina. He stood in the little door-way, + completely filling it, and explained that he could not come in, as the + buckles and straps of his snow-shoes were clogged and frozen. He wore the + long Norwegian snow-shoes, and was held to be the quickest runner in the + country. + </p> + <p> + Catrina had a long conversation with the man, who stood hatless, ruddy, + and shy. + </p> + <p> + “It is,” she then explained to Maggie, “Paul’s own + man, who always loads for him and carries his spare gun. He has sent him + to tell us that the game has been ringed, and that the beaters will close + in on a place called the Schapka Clearing, where there is a woodman’s + refuge. If we care to put on our snow-shoes, this man will guide us to the + clearing and take care of us till the battue is over.” + </p> + <p> + Of course Maggie welcomed the proposal with delight, and after a hasty + luncheon the three glided off through the forest as noiselessly as they + had come. After a tiring walk of an hour and more they came to the + clearing, and were duly concealed in the hut. + </p> + <p> + No one, the keeper told the ladies, except Paul, knew of their presence in + the little wooden house. The arrangements of the beat had been slightly + altered at the last moment after the hunters had separated. The keeper + lighted a small fire and shyly attended to the ladies, removing their + snow-shoes with clumsy fingers. He closed the door, and arranged a branch + of larch across the window so that they could stand near it without being + seen. + </p> + <p> + They had not been there long before De Chauxville appeared. He moved + quickly across the clearing, skimming over the snow with long, sweeping + strides. Two keepers followed him, and after having shown him the rough + hiding-place prepared for him, silently withdrew to their places. Soon + Karl Steinmetz came from another direction, and took up his position + rather nearer to the hut, in a thicket of pine and dwarf oak. He was only + twenty yards away from the refuge where the girls were concealed. + </p> + <p> + It was not long before Paul came. He was quite alone, and suddenly + appeared at the far end of the clearing, in very truth a mighty hunter, + standing nearly seven feet on his snow-shoes. One rifle he carried in his + hand, another slung across his back. It was like a silent scene on a + stage. The snow-white clearing, with long-drawn tracks across it where the + snow-shoes had passed, the still trees, the brilliant sun, and the blue + depths of the forest behind; while Paul, like the hero of some grim Arctic + saga, a huge fur-clad Northern giant, stood alone in the desolation. + </p> + <p> + From his attitude it was apparent that he was listening. It was probable + that the cries of the birds and the distant howl of a wolf told his + practised ears how near the beaters were. He presently moved across to + where De Chauxville was hidden, spoke some words of advice or warning to + him, and pointed with his gloved hand in the direction whence the game + might be expected to come. + </p> + <p> + It subsequently transpired that Paul was asking De Chauxville the + whereabouts of Steinmetz, who had gained his place of concealment + unobserved by either. De Chauxville could give him no information, and + Paul went away to his post dissatisfied. Karl Steinmetz must have seen + them; he must have divined the subject of their conversation; but he + remained hidden and gave no sign. + </p> + <p> + Paul’s post was behind a fallen tree, and the watchers in the hut + could see him, while he was completely hidden from any animal that might + enter the open clearing from the far end. He turned and looked hard at the + hut; but the larch branch across the window effectually prevented him from + discovering whether any one was behind it or not. + </p> + <p> + Thus they all waited in suspense. A blackcock skimmed across the open + space and disappeared unmolested. A wolf—gray, gaunt, sneaking, and + lurching in his gait—trotted into the clearing and stood listening + with evil lips drawn back. The two girls watched him breathlessly. When he + trotted on unmolested, they drew a deep breath as if they had been under + water. Paul, with his two rifles laid before him, watched the wolf depart + with a smile. The girls could see the smile, and from it learnt somewhat + of the man. The keeper beside them gave a little laugh and looked to the + hammers of his rifle. + </p> + <p> + And still there was no sound. It was still, unreal, and like a scene on + the stage. The birds, skimming over the tops of the trees from time to + time, threw in as it were a note of fear and suspense. There was + breathlessness in the air. A couple of hares, like white shadows in their + spotless winter coats, shot from covert to covert across the open ground. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly the keeper gave a little grunt and held up his hand, + listening with parted lips and eager eyes. There was a distinct sound of + breaking branches and crackling underwood. + </p> + <p> + They could see Paul cautiously rise from his knees to a crouching + attitude. They followed the direction of his gaze, and before them the + monarch of these forests stood in clumsy might. A bear had shambled to the + edge of the clearing and was standing upright, growling and grumbling to + himself, his great paws waving from side to side, his shaggy head thrust + forward with a recurring jerk singularly suggestive of a dandy with an + uncomfortable collar. These bears of Northern Russia have not the + reputation of being very fierce unless they are aroused from their winter + quarters, when their wrath knows no bounds and their courage recognizes no + danger. An angry bear is afraid of no living man or beast. Moreover, these + kings of the Northern forests are huge beasts, capable of smothering a + strong man by falling on him and lying there—a death which has come + to more than one daring hunter. The beast’s favorite method of + dealing with his foe is to claw him to death, or else hug him till his + ribs are snapped and crushed into his vitals. + </p> + <p> + The bear stood poking his head and looking about with little, fiery, + bloodshot eyes for something to destroy. His rage was manifest, and in his + strength he was a grand sight. The majesty of power and a dauntless + courage were his. + </p> + <p> + It was De Chauxville’s shot, and while keeping his eye on the bear, + Paul glanced impatiently over his shoulder from time to time, wondering + why the Frenchman did not fire. The bear was a huge one, and would + probably carry three bullets and still be a dangerous adversary. + </p> + <p> + The keeper muttered impatiently. + </p> + <p> + They were watching Paul breathlessly. The bear was approaching him. It + would not be safe to defer firing another second. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the keeper gave a short exclamation of astonishment and threw up + his rifle. + </p> + <p> + There was another bear behind Paul, shambling toward him, unseen by him. + All his attention was riveted on the huge brute forty yards in front of + him. It was Claude de Chauxville’s task to protect Paul from any + flank or rear attack; and Claude de Chauxville was peering over his + covert, watching with blanched face the second bear; and lifting no hand, + making no sign. The bear was within a few yards of Paul, who was crouching + behind the fallen pine and now raising his rifle to his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + In a flash of comprehension the two girls saw all, through the panes of + the closed window. It was still singularly like a scene on the stage. The + second bear raised his powerful fore-paws as he approached. One blow would + tear open Paul’s brain. + </p> + <p> + A terrific report sent the girls staggering back, for a moment paralyzing + thought. The keeper had fired through the window, both barrels almost + simultaneously. It was a question how much lead would bring the bear down + before he covered the intervening dozen yards. In the confined space of + the hut, the report of the heavy double charge was like that of a cannon; + moreover, Steinmetz, twenty yards away, had fired at the same moment. + </p> + <p> + The room was filled with smoke. The two girls were blinded for an instant. + Then they saw the keeper tear open the door and disappear. The cold air + through the shattered casement was a sudden relief to their lungs, choked + with sulphur and the fumes of spent powder. + </p> + <p> + In a flash they were out of the open door; and there again, with the + suddenness of a panorama, they saw another picture—Paul kneeling in + the middle of the clearing, taking careful aim at the retreating form of + the first bear. They saw the puff of blue smoke rise from his rifle, they + heard the sharp report; and the bear rolled over on its face. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz and the keeper were walking toward Paul. Claude de Chauxville, + standing outside his screen of brushwood, was staring with wide, + fear-stricken eyes at the hut which he had thought empty. He did not know + that there were three people behind him, watching him. What had they seen? + What had they understood? + </p> + <p> + Catrina and Maggie ran toward Paul. They were on snow-shoes, and made + short work of the intervening distance. + </p> + <p> + Paul had risen to his feet. His face was grave. There was a singular gleam + in his eyes, which was not a gleam of mere excitement such as the chase + brings into some men’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz looked at him and said nothing. For a moment Paul stood still. + He looked round him, noting with experienced glance the lay of the whole + incident—the dead form of the bear ten yards behind his late + hiding-place, one hundred and eighty yards from the hut, one hundred and + sixty yards from the spot whence Karl Steinmetz had sent his unerring + bullet through the bear’s brain. Paul saw it all. He measured the + distances. He looked at De Chauxville, standing white-faced at his post, + not fifty yards from the carcass of the second bear. + </p> + <p> + Paul seemed to see no one but De Chauxville. He went straight toward him, + and the whole party followed in breathless suspense. Steinmetz was nearest + to him, watching with his keen, quiet eyes. + </p> + <p> + Paul went up to De Chauxville and took the rifle from his hands. He opened + the breech and looked into the barrels. They were clean; the rifle had not + been fired off. + </p> + <p> + He gave a little laugh of contempt, and, throwing the rifle at De + Chauxville’s feet, turned abruptly away. + </p> + <p> + It was Catrina who spoke. + </p> + <p> + “If you had killed him,” she said, “I would have killed + you!” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz picked up the rifle, closed the breech, and handed it to De + Chauxville with a queer smile. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII — A CLOUD + </h2> + <p> + When the Osterno party reached home that same evening the starosta was + waiting to see Steinmetz. His news was such that Steinmetz sent for Paul, + and the three men went together to the little room beyond the smoking-room + in the old part of the castle. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Paul, with the unconscious hauteur which made him + a prince to these people. + </p> + <p> + The starosta spread out his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Your Excellency,” he answered, “I am afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what?” + </p> + <p> + The starosta shrugged his narrow shoulders in cringing deprecation. + </p> + <p> + “Excellency, I do not know. There is something in the village—something + in the whole country. I know not what it is. It is a feeling—one + cannot see it, one cannot define it; but it is there, like the gleam of + water at the bottom of a deep well. The moujiks are getting dangerous. + They will not speak to me. I am suspected. I am watched.” + </p> + <p> + His shifty eyes, like black beads, flitted from side to side as he spoke. + He was like a weasel at bay. It was the face of a man who went in bodily + fear. + </p> + <p> + “I will go with you down to the village now,” said Paul. + “Is there any excuse—any illness?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Excellency,” replied the chief, “there is always + that excuse.” + </p> + <p> + Paul looked at the clock. + </p> + <p> + “I will go now,” he said. He began his simple preparations at + once. + </p> + <p> + “There is dinner to be thought of,” suggested Steinmetz, with + a resigned smile. “It is half-past seven.” + </p> + <p> + “Dinner can wait,” replied Paul in English. “You might + tell the ladies that I have gone out, and will dine alone when I come + back.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz shrugged his broad shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I think you are a fool,” he said, “to go alone. If they + discover your identity they will tear you to pieces.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not afraid of them,” replied Paul, with his head in the + medicine cupboard, “any more than I am afraid of a horse. They are + like horses; they do not know their own strength.” + </p> + <p> + “With this difference,” added Steinmetz, “that the + moujik will one day make the discovery. He is beginning to make it now. + The starosta is quite right, Paul. There is something in the air. It is + about time that you took the ladies away from here and left me to manage + it alone.” + </p> + <p> + “That time will never come again,” answered Paul. “I am + not going to leave you alone again.” + </p> + <p> + He was pushing his arms into the sleeves of the old brown coat reaching to + his heels, a garment which commanded as much love and respect in Osterno + as ever would an angel’s wing. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz opened the drawer of his bureau and laid a revolver on the + table. + </p> + <p> + “At all events,” he said, “you may as well have the + wherewithal to make a fight of it, if the worst comes to the worst.” + </p> + <p> + “As you like,” answered Paul, slipping the fire-arm into his + pocket. + </p> + <p> + The starosta moved away a pace or two. He was essentially a man of peace. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later it became known in the village that the Moscow doctor + was in the house of one Ivan Krass, where he was prepared to see all + patients who were now suffering from infectious complaints. The door of + this cottage was soon besieged by the sick and the idle, while the + starosta stood in the door-way and kept order. + </p> + <p> + Within, in the one dwelling-room of the cottage, were assembled as + picturesque and as unsavory a group as the most enthusiastic modern + “slummer” could desire to see. + </p> + <p> + Paul, standing by the table with two paraffin lamps placed behind him, saw + each suppliant in turn, and all the while he kept up a running + conversation with the more intelligent, some of whom lingered on to talk + and watch. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, John the son of John,” he would say, “what is the + matter with you? It is not often I see you. I thought you were clean and + thrifty.” + </p> + <p> + To which John the son of John replied that the winter had been hard and + fuel scarce, that his wife was dead and his children stricken with + influenza. + </p> + <p> + “But you have had relief; our good friend the starosta—” + </p> + <p> + “Does what he can,” grumbled John, “but he dare not do + much. The barins will not let him. The nobles want all the money for + themselves. The Emperor is living in his palace, where there are fountains + of wine. We pay for that with our taxes. You see my hand—I cannot + work; but I must pay the taxes, or else we shall be turned out into the + street.” + </p> + <p> + Paul, while attending to the wounded hand—an old story of an old + wound neglected, and a constitution with all the natural healing power + drained out of it by hunger and want and vodka—Paul, ever watchful, + glanced round and saw sullen, lowering faces, eager eyes, hungry, cruel + lips. + </p> + <p> + “But the winter is over now. You are mistaken about the nobles. They + do what they can. The Emperor pays for the relief that you have had all + these months. It is foolish to talk as you do.” + </p> + <p> + “I only tell the truth,” replied the man, wincing as Paul + deliberately cut away the dead flesh. “We know now why it is that we + are all so poor.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked Paul, pouring some lotion over a wad of lint and + speaking indifferently. + </p> + <p> + “Because the nobles—” began the man, and some one nudged + him from behind, urging him to silence. + </p> + <p> + “You need not be afraid of me,” said Paul. “I tell no + tales, and I take no money.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why do you come?” asked a voice in the background. + “Some one pays you; who is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Tula,” said Paul, without looking up. “You are + there, are you? The great Tula. There is a hardworking, sober man, my + little fathers, who never beats his wife, and never drinks, and never + borrows money. A useful neighbor! What is the matter with you, Tula? You + have been too sparing with the vodka, no doubt. I must order you a glass + every hour.” + </p> + <p> + There was a little laugh. But Paul, who knew these people, was quite alive + to the difference of feeling toward himself. They still accepted his care, + his help, his medicine; but they were beginning to doubt him. + </p> + <p> + “There is your own prince,” he went on fearlessly to the man + whose hand he was binding up. “He will help you when there is real + distress.” + </p> + <p> + An ominous silence greeted this observation. + </p> + <p> + Paul raised his head and looked round. In the dim light of the two smoky + lamps he saw a ring of wild faces. Men with shaggy beards and hair all + entangled and unkempt, with fierce eyes and lowering glances; women with + faces that unsexed them. There were despair and desperation and utter + recklessness in the air, in the attitude, in the hearts of these people. + And Paul had worked among them for years. The sight would have been + heart-breaking had Paul Howard Alexis been the sort of man to admit the + possibility of a broken heart. All that he had done had been frustrated by + the wall of heartless bureaucracy against which he had pitched his single + strength. There was no visible progress. These were not the faces of men + and women moving up the social scale by the aid of education and the + deeper self-respect that follows it. Some of them were young, although + they hardly looked it. They were young in years, but old in life and + misery. Some of them he knew to be educated. He had paid for the education + himself. He had risked his own personal freedom to procure it for them, + and misery had killed the seed. + </p> + <p> + He looked on this stony ground, and his stout heart was torn with pity. It + is easy to be patient in social economy when that vague jumble of + impossible ideas is calmly discussed across the dinner-table. But the + result seems hopelessly distant when the mass of the poor and wretched + stand before one in the flesh. + </p> + <p> + Paul knew that this little room was only a specimen of the whole of + Russia. Each of these poor peasants represented a million—equally + hopeless, equally powerless to contend with an impossible taxation. + </p> + <p> + He could not give them money, because the tax-collector had them all under + his thumb and would exact the last kopeck. The question was far above his + single-handed reach, and he did not dare to meet it openly and seek the + assistance of the few fellow-nobles who faced the position without fear. + </p> + <p> + He could not see in the brutal faces before him one spark of intelligence, + one little gleam of independence and self-respect which could be + attributed to his endeavor; which the most sanguine construction could + take as resulting from his time and money given to a hopeless cause. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said. “Have you nothing to tell me of your + prince?” + </p> + <p> + “You know him,” answered the man who had spoken from the safe + background. “We need not tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Paul; “I know him.” + </p> + <p> + He would not defend himself. + </p> + <p> + “There,” he went on, addressing the man whose hand was now + bandaged. “You will do. Keep clean and sober, and it will heal. Get + drunk and go dirty, and you will die. Do you understand, Ivan Ivanovitch?” + </p> + <p> + The man grunted sullenly, and moved away to give place to a woman with a + baby in her arms. + </p> + <p> + Paul glanced into her face. He had known her a few years earlier a happy + child playing at her mother’s cottage door. + </p> + <p> + She drew back the shawl that covered her child, with a faint, far-off + gleam of pride in her eyes. There was something horribly pathetic in the + whole picture. The child-mother, her rough, unlovely face lighted for a + moment with that gleam from Paradise which men never know; the huge man + bending over her, and between them the wizened, disease-stricken little + waif of humanity. + </p> + <p> + “When he was born he was a very fine child,” said the mother. + </p> + <p> + Paul glanced at her. She was quite serious. She was looking at him with a + strange pride on her face. Paul nodded and drew aside the shawl. The baby + was staring at him with wise, grave eyes, as if it could have told him a + thing or two if it had only been gifted with the necessary speech. Paul + knew that look. It meant starvation. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” asked the child-mother. “It is only some + little illness, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; it is only a little illness.” + </p> + <p> + He did not add that no great illness is required to kill a small child. He + was already writing something in his pocket-book. He tore the leaf out and + gave it to her. + </p> + <p> + “This,” he said, “is for you—yourself, you + understand? Take that each day to the starosta and he will give you what I + have written down. If you do not eat all that he gives you and drink what + there is in the bottle as he directs you, the baby will die—you + understand? You must give nothing away; nothing even to your husband.” + </p> + <p> + The next patient was the man whose voice had been heard from the safe + retreat of the background. His dominant malady was obvious. A shaky hand, + an unsteady eye, and a bloated countenance spoke for themselves. But he + had other diseases more or less developed. + </p> + <p> + “So you have no good to tell of your prince,” said Paul, + looking into the man’s face. + </p> + <p> + “Our prince, Excellency! He is not our prince. His forefathers + seized this land; that is all.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Who has been telling you that?” + </p> + <p> + “No one,” grumbled the man. “We know it; that is all.” + </p> + <p> + “But you were his father’s serfs, before the freedom. Let me + see your tongue. Yes; you have been drinking—all the winter. Ah! is + not that so, little father? Your parents were serfs before the freedom.” + </p> + <p> + “Freedom!” growled the man. “A pretty freedom! We were + better off before.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but the world interfered with serfdom, because it got its + necessary touch of sentiment. There is no sentiment in starvation.” + </p> + <p> + The man did not understand. He grunted acquiescence nevertheless. The true + son of the people is always ready to grunt acquiescence to all that sounds + like abuse. + </p> + <p> + “And what is this prince like? Have you seen him?” went on + Paul. + </p> + <p> + “No; I have not seen him. If I saw him I would kick his head to + pieces.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, just open your mouth a little wider. Yes; you have a nasty + throat there. You have had diphtheria. So you would kick his head to + pieces. Why?” + </p> + <p> + “He is a tchinovnik—a government spy. He lives on the taxes. + But it will not be for long. There is a time coming—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! What sort of a time? Now, you must take this to the starosta. + He will give you a bottle. It is not to drink. It is to wash your throat + with. Remember that, and do not give it to your wife by way of a tonic as + you did last time. So there are changes coming, are there?” + </p> + <p> + “There is a change coming for the prince—for all the princes,” + replied the man in the usual taproom jargon. “For the Emperor too. + The poor man has had enough of it. God made the world for the poor man as + well as for the rich. Riches should be equally divided. They are going to + be. The country is going to be governed by a Mir. There will be no taxes. + The Mir makes no taxes. It is the tchinovniks who make the taxes and live + on them.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you are very eloquent, little father. If you talk like this in + the kabak no wonder you have a bad throat. There, I can do no more for + you. You must wash more and drink less. You might try a little work + perhaps; it stimulates the appetite. And with a throat like that I should + not talk so much if I were you. Next!” + </p> + <p> + The next comer was afflicted with a wound that would not heal—a + common trouble in cold countries. + </p> + <p> + While attending to this sickening sore Paul continued his conversation + with the last patient. + </p> + <p> + “You must tell me,” he said, “when these changes are + about to come. I should like to be there to see. It will be interesting.” + </p> + <p> + The man laughed mysteriously. + </p> + <p> + “So the government is to be by a Mir, is it?” went on Paul. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; the poor man is to have a say in it.” + </p> + <p> + “That will be interesting. But at the Mir every one talks at once + and no one listens; is it not so?” + </p> + <p> + The man made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “Is the change coming soon?” asked Paul coolly. + </p> + <p> + But there was no reply. Some one had seized the loquacious orator of the + kabak, and he was at that moment being quietly hustled out of the room. + </p> + <p> + After this there was a sullen silence, which Paul could not charm away, + charm he never so wisely. + </p> + <p> + When his patients had at last ebbed away he lighted a cigarette and walked + thoughtfully back to the castle. There was danger in the air, and this was + one of those men upon whom danger acts as a pleasant stimulant. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII — THE NET IS DRAWN + </h2> + <p> + During the days following Paul’s visit to the village the ladies did + not see much male society. Paul and Steinmetz usually left the castle + immediately after breakfast and did not return till nightfall. + </p> + <p> + “Is there any thing wrong?” Maggie asked Steinmetz on the + evening of the second day. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz had just come into the vast drawing-room dressed for dinner—stout, + placid, and very clean-looking. They were alone in the room. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, my dear young lady—yet,” he answered, coming + forward and rubbing his broad palms slowly together. + </p> + <p> + Maggie was reading an English newspaper. She turned its pages without + pausing to notice the black and sticky obliterations effected by the + postal authorities before delivery. It was no new thing to her now to come + upon the press censor’s handiwork in the columns of such periodicals + and newspapers as Paul received from England. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” she said, “if there is you need not be afraid + of telling me.” + </p> + <p> + “To have that fear would be to offer you an insult,” replied + Steinmetz. “Paul and I are investigating matters, that is all. The + plain truth, my dear young lady, is that we do not know ourselves what is + in the wind. We only know there is something. You are a horsewoman—you + know the feeling of a restive horse. One knows that he is only waiting for + an excuse to shy or to kick or to rear. One feels it thrilling in him. + Paul and I have that feeling in regard to the peasants. We are going the + round of the outlying villages, steadily and carefully. We are seeking for + the fly on the horse’s body—you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I understand.” + </p> + <p> + She gave a little nod. She had not lost color, but there was an anxious + look in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Some people would have sent to Tver for the soldiers,” + Steinmetz went on. “But Paul is not that sort of man. He will not do + it yet. You remember our conversation at the Charity Ball in London?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not want you to come then. I am sorry you have come now.” + </p> + <p> + Maggie laid aside the newspaper with a little laugh. + </p> + <p> + “But, Herr Steinmetz,” she said, “I am not afraid. + Please remember that. I have absolute faith in you—and in Paul.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz accepted this statement with his grave smile. + </p> + <p> + “There is only one thing I would recommend,” he said, “and + that is a perfect discretion. Speak of this to no one, especially to no + servants. You remember your own mutiny in India. Gott! what wonderful + people you English are—men and women alike! You remember how the + ladies kept up and brazened it out before the servants. You must do the + same. I think I hear the rustle of the princess’s dress. Yes! And + there is no news in the papers, you say?” + </p> + <p> + “None,” replied Maggie. + </p> + <p> + It may not have been entirely by chance that Claude de Chauxville drove + over to Osterno to pay his respects the next day, and expressed himself + desolated at hearing that the prince had gone out with Herr Steinmetz in a + sleigh to a distant corner of the estate. + </p> + <p> + “My horses must rest,” said the Frenchman, calmly taking off + his fur gloves. “Perhaps the princess will see me.” + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later he was shown into the morning-room. + </p> + <p> + “Did I see Mlle. Delafield on snow-shoes in the forest as I came + along?” De Chauxville asked the servant in perfect Russian before + the man left the room. + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless, Excellency. She went out on her snow-shoes half an hour + ago.” + </p> + <p> + “That is all right,” said the Frenchman to himself when the + door was closed. + </p> + <p> + He went to the fire and warmed his slim white fingers. There was an evil + smile lurking beneath his mustache. + </p> + <p> + When Etta opened the door a minute later he bowed low, without speaking. + There was a suggestion of triumph in his attitude. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said the princess, without acknowledging his + salutation. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville raised his eyebrows with the resigned surprise of a man to + whom no feminine humor is new. He brought forward a chair. + </p> + <p> + “Will you sit?” he said, with exaggerated courtesy. “I + have much to say to you. Besides, we have all the time. Your husband and + his German friend are miles away. I passed Miss Delafield in the forest. + She is not quite at home on her snow-shoes yet. She cannot be back for at + least half an hour.” + </p> + <p> + Etta bit her lip as she looked at the chair. She sat slowly down and drew + in the folds of her rich dress. + </p> + <p> + “I have the good fortune to find you alone.” + </p> + <p> + “So you have informed me,” she replied coldly. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville leaned against the mantel-piece and looked down at her + thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “At the bear-hunt the other day,” he said, “I had the + misfortune to—well, to fall out with the prince. We were not quite + at one on a question of etiquette. He thought that I ought to have fired. + I did not fire; I was not ready. It appears that the prince considered + himself to be in danger. He was nervous—flurried.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not always artistic in your untruths,” interrupted + Etta. “I know nothing of the incident to which you refer, but in + lying you should always endeavor to be consistent. I am sure Paul was not + nervous—or flurried.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville smiled imperturbably. His end was gained. Etta obviously + knew nothing of his attempt to murder Paul at the bear-hunt. + </p> + <p> + “It was nothing,” he went on; “we did not come to words. + But we have never been much in sympathy; the coldness is intensified, that + is all. So I took the opportunity of calling when I knew he was away.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you know he was away?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, madame, I know more than I am credited with.” + </p> + <p> + Etta gave a little laugh and shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “You do not care for Osterno?” suggested De Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + “I hate it!” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely. And I am here to help you to get away from Russia once + for all. Ah! you may shake your head. Some day, perhaps, I shall succeed + in convincing you that I have only your interests at heart. I am here, + princess, to make a little arrangement with you—a final arrangement, + I hope.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, looking at her with a sudden gleam in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Not the last of all,” he added in a different tone. “That + will make you my wife.” + </p> + <p> + Etta allowed this statement to pass unchallenged. Her courage and energy + were not exhausted. She was learning to nurse her forces. + </p> + <p> + “Your husband,” went on De Chauxville, after he had + sufficiently enjoyed the savor of his own words, “is a brave man. To + frighten him it is necessary to resort to strong measures. The last and + the strongest measure in the diplomat’s scale is the People. The + People, madame, will take no denial. It is a game I have played before—a + dangerous game, but I am not afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “You need not trouble to be theatrical with me,” put in Etta + scornfully. She was sitting with a patch of color in either cheek. At + times this man had the power of moving her, and she was afraid of allowing + him to exercise it. She knew her own weakness—her inordinate vanity; + for vanity is the weakness of strong women. She was ever open to flattery, + and Claude de Chauxville flattered her in every word he spoke; for by act + and speech he made it manifest that she was the motive power of his + existence. + </p> + <p> + “A man who plays for a high stake,” went on the Frenchman, in + a quieter voice, “must be content to throw his all on the table time + after time. A week to-night—Thursday, the 5th of April—I will + throw down my all on the turn of a card. For the People are like that. It + is rouge or noir—one never knows. We only know that there is no + third color, no compromise.” + </p> + <p> + Etta was listening now with ill-disguised interest. At last he had given + her something definite—a date. + </p> + <p> + “On Thursday,” he went on, “the peasants will make a + demonstration. You know as well as I do—as well as Prince Pavlo + does, despite his imperturbable face—that the whole country is a + volcano which may break forth at any moment. But the control is strong, + and therefore there is never a large eruption—a grumble here, a + gleam of fire there, a sullen heat everywhere! But it is held in check by + the impossibility of communication. It seems strange, but Russia stands + because she has no penny postage. The great crash will come, not by force + of arms, but by ways of peace. The signal will be a postal system, the + standard of the revolution will be a postage-stamp. All over this country + there are millions waiting and burning to rise up and crush despotism, but + they are held in check by the simple fact that they are far apart and they + cannot write to each other. When, at last, they are brought together, + there will be no fight at all, because they will overwhelm their enemies. + That time, madame, has not come yet. We are only at the stage of tentative + underground rumblings. But a little eruption is enough to wipe out one man + if he be standing on the spot.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” said Etta quietly—too quietly, De Chauxville + might have thought, had he been calmer. + </p> + <p> + “I want you,” he went on, “to assist me. We shall be + ready on Thursday. I shall not appear in the matter at all; I have strong + colleagues at my back. Starvation and misery, properly handled, are strong + incentives.” + </p> + <p> + “And how do you propose to handle them?” asked Etta in the + same quiet voice. + </p> + <p> + “The peasants will make a demonstration. The rest we must leave to—well, + to the course of fortune. I have no doubt that our astute friend Karl + Steinmetz will manage to hold them in check. But whatever the end of the + demonstration, the outcome will be the impossibility of a longer residence + in this country for the Prince Pavlo Alexis. A regiment of soldiers could + hardly make it possible.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand,” said Etta, “what you describe as + a demonstration—is it a rising?” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville nodded, with a grin. + </p> + <p> + “In force, to take what they want by force?” asked the + princess. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville spread out his hands in his graceful Gallic way. + </p> + <p> + “That depends.” + </p> + <p> + “And what do you wish me to do?” asked Etta, with the same + concentrated quiet. + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, to believe that no harm will come to you, + either directly or indirectly. They would not dare to touch the prince; + they will content themselves with breaking a few windows.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you want me to do?” repeated Etta. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville paused. + </p> + <p> + “Merely,” he answered lightly, “to leave open a door—a + side door. I understand that there is a door in the old portion of the + castle leading up by a flight of stairs to the smoking-room, and thence to + the new part of the building.” + </p> + <p> + Etta did not answer. De Chauxville glanced at his watch and walked to the + window, where he stood looking out. He was too refined a person to + whistle, but his attitude was suggestive of that mode of killing time. + </p> + <p> + “This door I wish you to unbar yourself before dinner on Thursday + evening,” he said, turning round and slowly coming toward her. + </p> + <p> + “And I refuse to do it,” said Etta. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + Etta sprung to her feet and faced him—a beautiful woman, a very + queen of anger. Her blazing eyes were on a level with his. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she cried, with clenched fists, standing her full + height till she seemed to look down into his mean, fox-like face. “Yes; + I refuse to betray my husband—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop! He is not your husband!” + </p> + <p> + Slowly the anger faded out of her eyes; her clenched fists relaxed. Her + fingers were scraping nervously at the silk of her dress, like the fingers + of a child seeking support. She seemed to lose several inches of her + majestic stature. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” she whispered. “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Sydney Bamborough is your husband,” said the Frenchman, + without taking his dull eyes from her face. + </p> + <p> + “He is dead!” she hissed. + </p> + <p> + “Prove it!” + </p> + <p> + He walked past her and leaned against the mantelpiece in the pose of easy + familiarity which he had maintained during the first portion of their + interview. + </p> + <p> + “Prove it, madame!” he said again. + </p> + <p> + “He died at Tver,” she said; but there was no conviction in + her voice. With her title and position to hold to, she could face the + world. Without these, what was she? + </p> + <p> + “A local newspaper reports that the body of a man was discovered on + the plains of Tver and duly buried in the pauper cemetery,” said De + Chauxville indifferently. “Your husband—Sydney Bamborough, I + mean—was, for reasons which need not be gone into here, in the + neighborhood of Tver at the time. A police officer, who has since been + transferred to Odessa, was of the opinion that the dead man was a + foreigner. There are about twelve thousand foreigners in Tver—operatives + in the manufactories. Your husband—Sydney Bamborough, bien entendu—left + Tver to proceed eastward and cross Siberia to China in order to avoid the + emissaries of the Charity League, who were looking out for him at the + western frontier. He will be due at one of the treaty ports in China in + about a month. Upon the supposition that the body discovered on the plains + of Tver was that of your husband, you took the opportunity of becoming a + princess. It was enterprising. I admire your spirit. But it was dangerous. + I, madame, can suppress Sydney Bamborough when he turns up. I have two + arrows in my quiver for him; one is the Charity League, the other the + Russian Government, who want him. Your husband—I beg your pardon, + the prince—would perhaps take a different view of the case. It is a + pretty story. I will tell it to him unless I have your implicit obedience.” + </p> + <p> + Etta stood dry-lipped before him. She tried to speak, but no words came + from her lips. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville looked at her with a quiet smile of triumph, and she knew + that he loved her. There is no defining love, nor telling when it merges + into hatred. + </p> + <p> + “Thursday evening, before dinner,” said De Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + And he left her standing on the hearth-rug, her lips moving and framing no + words. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV — AN APPEAL + </h2> + <p> + “Have you spoken to the princess?” asked Steinmetz, without + taking the cigar from his lips. + </p> + <p> + They were driving home through the forest that surrounded Osterno as the + sea surrounds an island. They were alone in the sleigh. That which they + had been doing had required no servant. Paul was driving, and consequently + the three horses were going as hard as they could. The snow flew past + their faces like the foam over the gunwale of a boat that is thrashing + into a ten-knot breeze. Yet it was not all snow. There were flecks of foam + from the horses’ mouths mingled with it. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Paul. His face was set and hard, his eyes + stern. This trouble with the peasants was affecting him more keenly than + he suspected. It was changing the man’s face—drawing lines + about his lips, streaking his forehead with the marks of care. His + position can hardly be realized by an Englishman unless it be compared to + that of the captain of a great sinking ship full of human souls who have + been placed under his care. + </p> + <p> + “And what did she say?” asked Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + “That she would not leave unless we all went with her.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz drew the furs closer up round him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, glancing at his companion’s face, and + seeing little but the eyes, by reason of the sable collar of his coat, + which met the fur of his cap; “yes, and why not?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot leave them,” answered Paul. “I cannot go away + now that there is trouble among them. What it is, goodness only knows! + They would never have got like this by themselves. Somebody has been at + them, and I don’t think it is the Nihilists. It is worse than that. + Some devil has been stirring them up, and they know no better. He is still + at it. They are getting worse day by day, and I cannot catch him. If I do, + by God! Steinmetz, I’ll twist his neck.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz smiled grimly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered, “you are capable of it. For me, I am + getting tired of the moujik. He is an inveterate, incurable fool. If he is + going to be a dangerous fool as well, I should almost be inclined to let + him go to the devil in his own way.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say; but you are not in my position.” + </p> + <p> + “No; that is true, Pavlo. They were not my father’s serfs. + Generations of my ancestors have not saved generations of their ancestors + from starvation. My fathers before me have not toiled and slaved and + legislated for them. I have not learnt medicine that I might doctor them. + I have not risked my health and life in their sties, where pigs would + refuse to live. I have not given my whole heart and soul to their welfare, + to receive no thanks, but only hatred. No, it is different for me. I owe + them nothing, mein lieber; that is the difference.” + </p> + <p> + “If I agree to make a bolt for Petersburg to-morrow will you come?” + retorted Paul. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered the stout man. + </p> + <p> + “I thought not. Your cynicism is only a matter of words, Steinmetz, + and not of deeds. There is no question of either of us leaving Osterno. We + must stay and fight it right out here.” + </p> + <p> + “That is so,” answered Steinmetz, with the Teutonic stolidity + of manner which sometimes came over him. “But the ladies—what + of them?” + </p> + <p> + Paul did not answer. They were passing over the rise of a heavy drift. It + was necessary to keep the horses up to their work, to prevent the runners + of the sleigh sinking into the snow. With voice and whip Paul encouraged + them. He was kind to animals, but never spared them—a strong man, + who gave freely of his strength and expected an equal generosity. + </p> + <p> + “This is no place for Miss Delafield,” added Steinmetz, + looking straight in front of him. + </p> + <p> + “I know that!” answered Paul sharply. “I wish to God she + was not here!” he added in a lower tone, and the words were lost + beneath the frozen mustache. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz made no answer. They drove on through the gathering gloom. The + sky was of a yellow gray, and the earth reflected the dismal hue of it. + Presently it began to snow, driving in a fine haze from the north. The two + men lapsed into silence. Steinmetz, buried in his furs like a great, + cumbrous bear, appeared to be half asleep. They had had a long and + wearisome day. The horses had covered their forty miles and more from + village to village, where the two men had only gathered discouragement and + foreboding. Some of the starostas were sullen; others openly scared. None + of them were glad to see Steinmetz. Paul had never dared to betray his + identity. With the gendarmes—the tchinovniks—they had not + deemed it wise to hold communication. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” cried Steinmetz suddenly, and Paul pulled the horses + on to their haunches. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you were asleep,” he said. + </p> + <p> + There was no one in sight. They were driving along the new road now, the + high-way Paul had constructed from Osterno to Tver. The road itself was, + of course, indistinguishable, but the telegraph posts marked its course. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz tumbled heavily out of his furs and went toward the nearest + telegraph post. + </p> + <p> + “Where is the wire?” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + Paul followed him in the sleigh. Together they peered up into the darkness + and the falling snow. The posts were there, but the wire was gone. A whole + length of it had been removed. They were cut off from civilization by one + hundred and forty miles of untrodden snow. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz clambered back into the sleigh and drew up the fur apron. He + gave a strange little laugh that had a ring of boyish excitement in it. + This man had not always been stout and placid. He too had had his day, and + those who knew him said that it had been a stirring one. + </p> + <p> + “That settles one question,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Which question?” asked Paul. + </p> + <p> + He was driving as hard as the horses could lay hoof to ground, taken with + a sudden misgiving and a great desire to reach Osterno before dark. + </p> + <p> + “The question of the ladies,” replied Steinmetz. “It is + too late for them to go now.” + </p> + <p> + The village, nestling beneath the grim protection of Osterno, was deserted + and forlorn. All the doors were closed, the meagre curtains drawn. It was + very cold. There was a sense of relief in this great frost; for when + Nature puts forth her strength men are usually cowed thereby. + </p> + <p> + At the castle all seemed to be in order. The groom, in his great sheepskin + coat, was waiting in the doorway. The servants threw open the vast doors, + and stood respectfully in the warm, brilliantly lighted hall while their + master passed in. + </p> + <p> + “Where is the princess?” Steinmetz asked his valet, while he + was removing the evidences of a long day in the open air. + </p> + <p> + “In her drawing-room, Excellency.” + </p> + <p> + “Then go and ask her if she will give me a cup of tea in a few + minutes.” + </p> + <p> + And the man, a timorous German, went. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later Steinmetz, presenting himself at the door of the + little drawing-room attached to Etta’s suite of rooms, found the + princess in a matchless tea-gown waiting beside a table laden with silver + tea appliances. A dainty samovar, a tiny tea-pot, a spirit-lamp and the + rest, all in the wonderful silver-work of the Slavonski Bazaar in Moscow. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” she said with a smile, for she always smiled on + men, “I have obeyed your orders.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz bowed gravely. He was one of the few men who could see that + smile and be strong. He closed the door carefully behind him. No mention + was made of the fact that his message had implied, and she had understood, + that he wished to see her alone. Etta was rather pale. There was an + anxious look in her eyes—behind the smile, as it were. She was + afraid of this man. She looked at the flame of the samovar, busying + herself among the tea-things with pretty curving fingers and rustling + sleeves. But the tea was never made. + </p> + <p> + “I begin to think,” said Steinmetz, coming to the point in his + bluff way, “that you are a sort of beautiful Jonah, a graceful + stormy petrel, a fair Wandering Jewess. There is always trouble where you + go.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced at his broad face, and read nothing there. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” she said. “What have I been doing now? How you + do hate me, Herr Steinmetz!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it is safer than loving you,” he answered, with his + grim humor. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” she said, with a quaint little air of resignation + which was very disarming, “that you have come here to scold me—you + do not want any tea?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I do not want any tea.” + </p> + <p> + She turned the wick of the spirit-lamp, and the peaceful music of the + samovar was still. In her clever eyes there was a little air of sidelong + indecision. She could not make up her mind how to take him. Her chiefest + method was so old as to be biblical. Yet she could not take him with her + eyelids. She had tried. + </p> + <p> + “You are horribly grave,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “The situation,” he replied, “is horribly grave.” + </p> + <p> + Etta looked up at him as he stood before her, and the lamp-light, falling + on the perfect oval of her face, showed it to be white and drawn. + </p> + <p> + “Princess,” said the man, “there are in the lives of + some of us times when we cease to be men and women, and become mere human + beings. There are times, I mean, when the thousand influences of sex die + at one blow of fate. This is such a time. We must forget that you are a + beautiful woman; I verily believe that there is none more beautiful in the + world. I once knew one whom I admired more, but that was not because she + was more beautiful. That, however, is my own story, and this”—he + paused and looked round the little room, furnished, decorated for her + comfort—“this is your story. We must forget that I am a man, + and therefore subject to the influence of your beauty.” + </p> + <p> + She sat looking up into his strong, grave face, and during all that + followed she never moved. + </p> + <p> + “I know you,” he said, “to be courageous, and must ask + you to believe that I exaggerate nothing in what I am about to tell you. I + tell it to you instead of leaving Paul to do so because I know his + complete fearlessness, and his blind faith in a people who are unworthy of + it. He does not realize the gravity of the situation. They are his own + people. A sailor never believes that his own ship is unseaworthy.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on!” said Etta, for he had paused. + </p> + <p> + “This country,” he continued, “is unsettled. The people + of the estate are on the brink of a revolt. You know what the Russian + peasant is. It will be no Parisian imeute, half noise, half laughter. We + cannot hope to hold this old place against them. We cannot get away from + it. We cannot send for help because we have no one to send. Princess, this + is no time for half-confidences. I know—for I know these people + better even than Paul knows them—I am convinced that this is not the + outcome of their own brains. They are being urged on by some one. There is + some one at their backs. This is no revolt of the peasants, organized by + the peasants. Princess, you must tell me all you know!” + </p> + <p> + “I—I,” she stammered, “I know nothing!” + </p> + <p> + And then suddenly she burst into tears, and buried her face in a tiny, + useless handkerchief. It was so unlike her and so sudden that Steinmetz + was startled. + </p> + <p> + He laid his great hand soothingly on her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” he said quietly, “I know more than you think. + I am no saint, princess, myself. I too have had my difficulties. I have + had my temptations, and I have not always resisted. God knows it is + difficult for men to do always the right thing. It is a thousand times + more difficult for women. When we spoke together in Petersburg, and I + offered you my poor friendship, I was not acting in the dark. I knew as + much then as I do now. Princess, I knew about the Charity League papers. I + knew more than any except Stipan Lanovitch, and it was he who told me.” + </p> + <p> + He was stroking her shoulder with the soothing movements that one uses + toward a child in distress. His great hand, broad and thick, had a certain + sense of quiet comfort and strength in it. Etta ceased sobbing, and sat + with bowed head, looking through her tears into the gay wood fire. It is + probable that she failed to realize the great charity of the man who was + speaking to her. For the capacity for evil merges at some point or other + into incapability for comprehending good. + </p> + <p> + “Is that all he knows?” she was wondering. + </p> + <p> + The suggestion that Sydney Bamborough was not dead had risen up to eclipse + all other fear in her mind. In some part her thought reached him. + </p> + <p> + “I know so much,” he said, “that it is safest to tell me + more. I offered you my friendship because I think that no woman could + carry through your difficulties unaided. Princess, the admiration of + Claude de Chauxville may be pleasant, but I venture to think that my + friendship is essential.” + </p> + <p> + Etta raised her head a little. She was within an ace of handing over to + Karl Steinmetz the rod of power held over her by the Frenchman. There was + something in Steinmetz that appealed to her and softened her, something + that reached a tender part of her heart through the coating of vanity, + through the hardness of worldly experience. + </p> + <p> + “I have known De Chauxville twenty-five years,” he went on, + and Etta deferred her confession. “We have never been good friends, + I admit. I am no saint, princess, but De Chauxville is a villain. Some day + you may discover, when it is too late, that it would have been for Paul’s + happiness, for your happiness, for every one’s good to have nothing + more to do with Claude de Chauxville, I want to save you that discovery. + Will you act upon my advice? Will you make a stand now? Will you come to + me and tell me all that De Chauxville knows about you that he could ever + use against you? Will you give yourself into my hands—give me your + battle to fight? You cannot do it alone. Only believe in my friendship, + princess. That is all I ask.” + </p> + <p> + Etta shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I think not,” she answered, in a voice too light, too + superficial, too hopelessly shallow for the depth of the moment. She was + thinking only of Sydney Bamborough, and of that dread secret. She fought + with what arms she wielded best—the lightest, the quickest, the most + baffling. + </p> + <p> + “As you will,” said Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV — ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM + </h2> + <p> + A Russian village kabak, with a smoking lamp, of which the chimney is + broken. The greasy curtains drawn across the small windows exclude the + faintest possibility of a draught. The moujik does not like a draught; in + fact, he hates the fresh air of heaven. Air that has been breathed three + or four times over is the air for him; it is warmer. The atmosphere of + this particular inn is not unlike that of every other inn in the White + Empire, inasmuch as it is heavily seasoned with the scent of cabbage soup. + The odor of this nourishing compound is only exceeded in unpleasantness by + the taste of the same. Added to this warm smell there is the smoke of a + score of the very cheapest cigarettes. The Russian peasant smokes his + cigarette now. It is the first step, and it does not cost him much. It is + the dawn of progress—the thin end of the wedge which will broaden + out into anarchy. The poor man who smokes a cigarette is sure to pass on + to socialistic opinions and troubles in the market-place. Witness the + cigarette-smoking countries. Moreover, this same poor man is not a + pleasant companion. He smokes a poor cigarette. + </p> + <p> + There is also the smell of vodka, which bottled curse is standing in + tumblers all down the long table. The news has spread in Osterno that + vodka is to be had for the asking at the kabak, where there is a meeting. + Needless to say, the meeting is a large one. Foolishness and thirst are + often found in the same head—a cranium which, by the way, is + exceptionally liable to be turned by knowledge or drink. + </p> + <p> + If the drink at the kabak of Osterno was dangerous, the knowledge was no + less so. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, little fathers,” an orator was shouting, “that + the day of the capitalist has gone. The rich men—the princes, the + nobles, the great merchants, the monopolists, the tchinovniks—tremble. + They know that the poor man is awakening at last from his long lethargy. + What have we done in Germany? What have we done in America? What have we + done in England and France?” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon he banged an unwashed fist upon the table with such emphasis + that more than one of the audience clutched his glass of vodka in alarm, + lest a drop of the precious liquor should be wasted. + </p> + <p> + No one seemed to know what had been done in Germany, in America, in + England, or in France. The people’s orator is a man of many + questions and much fist-banging. The moujiks of Osterno gazed at him + beneath their shaggy brows. Half of them did not understand him. They were + as yet uneducated to a comprehension of the street orator’s periods. + A few of the more intelligent waited for him to answer his own questions, + which he failed to do. A vague and ominous question carries as much weight + with some people as a statement, and has the signal advantage of being + less incriminating. + </p> + <p> + The speaker—a neckless, broad-shouldered ruffian of the type known + in England as “unemployed”—looked round with triumphant + head well thrown back. From his attitude it was obvious that he had been + the salvation of the countries named, and had now come to Russia to do the + same for her. He spoke with the throaty accent of the Pole. It was quite + evident that his speech was a written one—probably a printed + harangue issued to him and his compeers for circulation throughout the + country. He delivered many of the longer words with a certain unctuous + roll of the tongue, and an emphasis indicating the fact that he did not + know their meaning. + </p> + <p> + “From afar,” he went on, “we have long been watching + you. We have noted your difficulties and your hardships, your sickness, + your starvation. These men of Tver,’ we have said, ‘are brave + and true and steadfast. We will tell them of liberty.’ So I have + come to you, and I am glad to see you. Alexander Alexandrovitch, pass the + bottle down the table. You see, little fathers, I have not come begging + for your money. No; keep your kopecks in your pocket. We do not want your + money. We are no tchinovniks. We prove it by giving you vodka to keep your + throats wet and your ears open. Fill up your glasses—fill up your + glasses!” + </p> + <p> + The little fathers of Osterno understood this part of the harangue + perfectly, and acted upon it. + </p> + <p> + The orator scratched his head reflectively. There was a certain + business-like mouthing of his periods, showing that he had learnt all this + by heart. He did not press all his points home in the manner of one + speaking from his own brain. + </p> + <p> + “I see before me,” he went on, without an overplus of + sequence, “men worthy to take their place among the rulers of the + world—eh—er—rulers of the world, little fathers.” + </p> + <p> + He paused and drank half a tumbler of vodka. His last statement was so + obviously inapplicable—what he actually did see was so very far + removed from what he said he saw—that he decided to relinquish the + point. + </p> + <p> + “I drink,” he cried, “to Liberty and Equality!” + </p> + <p> + Some of the little fathers also drank, to assuage an hereditary thirst. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” continued the orator, “let us get to + business. I think we understand each other?” + </p> + <p> + He looked round with an engaging smile upon faces brutal enough to suit + his purpose, but quite devoid of intelligence. There was not much + understanding there. + </p> + <p> + “The poor man has one only way of making himself felt—force. + We have worked for generations, we have toiled in silence, and we have + gathered strength. The time has now come for us to put forth our strength. + The time has gone by for merely asking for what we want. We asked, and + they heard us not. We will now go and take!” + </p> + <p> + A few who had heard this speech or something like it before shouted their + applause at this moment. Before the noise had subsided the door opened, + and two or three men pushed their way into the already overcrowded room. + </p> + <p> + “Come in, come in!” cried the orator; “the more the + better. You are all welcome. All we require, then, little fathers, is + organization. There are nine hundred souls in Osterno; are you going to + bow down before one man? All men are equal—moujik and barin, + krestyanin and prince. Why do you not go up to the castle that frowns down + upon the village, and tell the man there that you are starving, that he + must feed you, that you are not going to work from dawn till eve while he + sits on his velvet couch and smokes his gold-tipped cigarettes. Why do you + not go and tell him that you are not going to starve and die while he eats + caviare and peaches from gold plates and dishes?” + </p> + <p> + A resounding bang of the fist finished this fine oration, and again the + questions were unanswered. + </p> + <p> + “They are all the same, these aristocrats,” the man thundered + on. “Your prince is as the others, I make no doubt. Indeed, I know; + for I have been told by our good friend Abramitch here. A clever man our + friend Abramitch, and when you get your liberty—when you get your + Mir—you must keep him in mind. Your prince, then—this Howard + Alexis—treats you like the dirt beneath his feet. Is it not so? He + will not listen to your cry of hunger. He will not give you a few crumbs + of food from his gold dishes. He will not give you a few kopecks of the + millions of rubles that he possesses. And where did he get those rubles? + Ah! where did he get them—eh? Tell me that!” + </p> + <p> + Again the interrogative unwashed fist. As the orator’s wild and + frenzied eye travelled round the room it lighted on a form near the door—a + man standing a head and shoulders above any one in the room, a man + enveloped in an old brown coat, with a woollen shawl round his throat, + hiding half his face. + </p> + <p> + “Who is that?” cried the orator, with an unsteady, pointing + finger. “He is no moujik. Is that a tchinovnik, little fathers? Has + he come here to our meeting to spy upon us?” + </p> + <p> + “You may ask them who I am,” replied the giant. “They + know; they will tell you. It is not the first time that I tell them they + are fools. I tell them again now. They are fools and worse to listen to + such windbags as you.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” cried the paid agitator. “Who is this man?” + </p> + <p> + His eyes were red with anger and with vodka; his voice was unsteady. His + outstretched hand shook. + </p> + <p> + “It is the Moscow doctor,” said a man beside him—“the + Moscow doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I say he is no doctor!” shouted the orator. “He is + a spy—a Government spy, a tchinovnik! He has heard all we have said. + He has seen you all. Brothers, that man must not leave this room alive. If + he does, you are lost men!” + </p> + <p> + Some few of the more violent spirits rose and pressed tumultuously toward + the door. The agitator shouted and screamed, urging them on, taking good + care to remain in the safe background himself. Every man in the room rose + to his feet. They were full of vodka and fury and ignorance. Spirit and + tall talk, taken on an empty stomach, are dangerous stimulants. + </p> + <p> + Paul stood with his back to the door and never moved. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, fools!” he cried. “Sit down! Listen to me. + You dare not touch me; you know that.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed that he was right, for they stopped with staring, stupid eyes + and idle hands. + </p> + <p> + “Will you listen to me, whom you have known for years, or to this + talker from the town? Choose now. I am tired of you. I have been patient + with you for years. You are sheep; are you fools also, to be dazzled by + the words of an idle talker who promises all and gives nothing?” + </p> + <p> + There was a sullen silence. Paul had lost his power over them, and he knew + it. He was quite cool and watchful. He knew that he was in danger. These + men were wild and ignorant. They were mad with drink and the brave words + of the agitator. + </p> + <p> + “Choose now!” he shouted, feeling for the handle of the door + behind his back. + </p> + <p> + They made no sign, but watched the faces of their leaders. + </p> + <p> + “If I go now,” said Paul, “I never come again!” + </p> + <p> + He opened the door. The men whom he had nursed and clothed and fed, whose + lives he had saved again and again, stood sullen and silent. + </p> + <p> + Paul passed slowly out and closed the door behind him. Without it was dark + and still. There would be a moon presently, and in the meantime it was + preparing to freeze harder than ever. + </p> + <p> + Paul walked slowly up the village street, while two men emerged separately + from the darkness of by-lanes and followed him. He did not heed them. He + was not aware that the thermometer stood somewhere below zero. He did not + even trouble to draw on his fur gloves. + </p> + <p> + He felt like a man whose own dogs have turned against him. The place that + these peasants had occupied in his heart had been precisely that vacancy + which is filled by dogs and horses in the hearts of many men. There was in + his feeling for them that knowledge of a complete dependence by which + young children draw and hold a mother’s love. + </p> + <p> + Paul Howard Alexis was not a man to analyze his thoughts. Your strong man + is usually ignorant of the existence of his own feelings. He is never + conscious of them. Paul walked slowly through the village of Osterno, and + realized, in his uncompromising honesty, that of the nine hundred men who + lived therein there were not three upon whom he could rely. He had upheld + his peasants for years against the cynic truths of Karl Steinmetz. He had + resolutely refused to admit even to himself that they were as devoid of + gratitude as they were of wisdom. And this was the end of all! + </p> + <p> + One of the men following him hurried on and caught him up. + </p> + <p> + “Excellency,” he gasped, breathless with his haste, “you + must not come here alone any longer. I am afraid of them—I have no + control.” + </p> + <p> + Paul paused, and suited his pace to the shorter legs of his companion. + </p> + <p> + “Starosta!” he said. “Is that you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Excellency. I saw you go into the kabak, so I waited outside + and watched. I did not dare to go inside. They will not allow me there. + They are afraid that I should give information.” + </p> + <p> + “How long have these meetings been going on?” + </p> + <p> + “The last three nights, Excellency, in Osterno; but it is the same + all over the estate.” + </p> + <p> + “Only on the estate?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Excellency.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure of that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Excellency.” + </p> + <p> + Paul walked on in silence for some paces. The third man followed them + without catching them up. + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand, Excellency,” said the starosta + anxiously. “It is not the Nihilists.” + </p> + <p> + “No; it is not the Nihilists.” + </p> + <p> + “And they do not want money, Excellency; that seems strange.” + </p> + <p> + “Very!” admitted Paul ironically. + </p> + <p> + “And they give vodka.” + </p> + <p> + This seemed to be the chief stumbling-block in the starosta’s road + to a solution of the mystery. + </p> + <p> + “Find out for me,” said Paul, after a pause, “who this + man is, where he comes from, and how much he is paid to open his mouth. We + will pay him more to shut it. Find out as much as you can, and let me know + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “I will try, Excellency; but I have little hope of succeeding. They + distrust me. They send the children to my shop for what they want, and the + little ones have evidently been told not to chatter. The moujiks avoid me + when they meet me. What can I do?” + </p> + <p> + “You can show them that you are not afraid of them,” answered + Paul. “That goes a long way with the moujik.” + </p> + <p> + They walked on together through the lane of cottages, where furtive forms + lurked in door-ways and behind curtains. And Paul had only one word of + advice to give, upon which he harped continually: “Be thou very + courageous—be thou very courageous.” Nothing new, for so it + was written in the oldest book of all. The starosta was a timorous man, + needing such strong support as his master gave him from time to time. + </p> + <p> + At the great gates of the park they paused, and Paul gave the mayor of + Osterno a few last words of advice. While they were standing there the + other man who had been following joined them. + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Steinmetz?” asked Paul, his hand thrust with + suspicious speed into his jacket pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing here?” + </p> + <p> + “Watching you,” answered Karl Steinmetz, in his mild way. + “It is no longer safe for either of us to go about alone. It was + mere foolery your going to that kabak.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVI — @ TROIS + </h2> + <p> + Of all the rooms in the great castle Etta liked the morning-room best. + Persons of a troubled mind usually love to look upon a wide prospect. The + mind, no doubt, fears the unseen approach of detection or danger, and + transmits this dread to the eye, which likes to command a wide view all + around. + </p> + <p> + The great drawing-room was only used after dinner. Until that time the + ladies spent the day either in their own boudoirs or in the morning-room + looking over the cliff. Here, while the cold weather lasted, Etta had tea + served, and thither the gentlemen usually repaired at the hour set apart + for the homely meal. They had come regularly the last few evenings. Paul + and Steinmetz had suddenly given up their long drives to distant parts of + the estate. + </p> + <p> + Here the whole party was assembled on the Sunday afternoon following Paul’s + visit to the village kabak, and to them came an unexpected guest. The door + was thrown open, and Claude de Chauxville, pale, but self-possessed and + quiet, came into the room. The perfect ease of his manner bespoke a + practised familiarity with the position difficult. His last parting with + Paul and Steinmetz had been, to say the least of it, strained. Maggie, he + knew, disliked and distrusted him. Etta hated and feared him. + </p> + <p> + He was in riding costume—a short fur jacket, fur gloves, a cap in + his hand, and a silver-mounted crop. A fine figure of a man—smart, + well turned out, well-groomed—a gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “Prince,” he said frankly, “I have come to throw myself + upon your generosity. Will you lend me a horse? I was riding in the forest + when my horse fell over a root and lamed himself. I found I was only three + miles from Osterno, so I came. My misfortune must be my excuse for this—intrusion.” + </p> + <p> + Paul performed graciously enough that which charity and politeness + demanded of him. There are plenty of people who trade unscrupulously upon + these demands, but it is probable that they mostly have their reward. Love + and friendship are stronger than charity and politeness, and those who + trade upon the latter are rarely accorded the former. + </p> + <p> + So Paul ignored the probability that De Chauxville had lamed his horse on + purpose, and offered him refreshment while his saddle was being + transferred to the back of a fresh mount. Farther than that he did not go. + He did not consider himself called upon to offer a night’s + hospitality to the man who had attempted to murder him a week before. + </p> + <p> + With engaging frankness De Chauxville accepted every thing. It is an art + soon acquired and soon abused. There is something honest in an ungracious + acceptance of favors. Steinmetz suggested that perhaps M. de Chauxville + had lunched sparsely, and the Frenchman admitted that such was the case, + but that he loved afternoon tea above all meals. + </p> + <p> + “It is so innocent and simple—I know. I have the same feeling + myself,” concurred Steinmetz courteously. + </p> + <p> + “Do you ride about the country much alone?” asked Paul, while + the servants were setting before this uninvited guest a few more + substantial delicacies. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, no, prince! This is my first attempt, and if it had not + procured me this pleasure I should say that it will be my last.” + </p> + <p> + “It is easy to lose yourself,” said Paul; “besides”—and + the two friends watched the Frenchman’s face closely—“besides, + the country is disturbed at present.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville was helping himself daintily to pbti de foie gras. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, indeed! Is that so?” he answered. “But they would + not hurt me—a stranger in the land.” + </p> + <p> + “And an orphan, too, I have no doubt,” added Steinmetz, with a + laugh. “But would the moujik pause to enquire, my very dear De + Chauxville?” + </p> + <p> + “At all events, I should not pause to answer,” replied the + Frenchman, in the same, light tone. “I should evacuate. Ah, + mademoiselle,” he went on, addressing Maggie, “they have been + attempting to frighten you, I suspect, with their stories of disturbed + peasantry. It is to keep up the lurid local color. They must have their + romance, these Russians.” + </p> + <p> + And so the ball was kept rolling. There was never any lack of conversation + when Steinmetz and De Chauxville were together, nor was the talk without + sub-flavor of acidity. At length the centre of attention himself diverted + that attention. He inaugurated an argument over the best cross-country + route from Osterno to Thors, which sent Steinmetz out of the room for a + map. During the absence of the watchful German he admired the view from + the window, and this strategetic movement enabled him to say to Etta + aside: + </p> + <p> + “I must see you before I leave the house; it is absolutely + necessary.” + </p> + <p> + Not long after the return of Steinmetz and the final decision respecting + the road to Thors, Etta left the room, and a few minutes later the servant + announced that the baron’s horse was at the door. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville took his leave at once, with many assurances of lasting + gratitude. + </p> + <p> + “Kindly,” he added, “make my adieux to the princess; I + will not trouble her.” + </p> + <p> + Quite by accident he met Etta at the head of the state staircase, and + expressed such admiration for the castle that she opened the door of the + large drawing-room and took him to see that apartment. + </p> + <p> + “What I arranged for Thursday is for the day after to-morrow—Tuesday,” + said De Chauxville, as soon as they were alone. “We cannot keep them + back any longer. You understand—the side door to be opened at seven + o’clock. Ah! who is this?” + </p> + <p> + They both turned. Steinmetz was standing behind them, but he could not + have heard De Chauxville’s words. He closed the door carefully, and + came forward with his grim smile. + </p> + <p> + “@ nous trois!” he said, and the subsequent conversation was + in the language in which these three understood each other best. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville bit his lip and waited. It was a moment of the tensest + suspense. + </p> + <p> + “@ nous trois!” repeated Steinmetz. “De Chauxville, you + love an epigram. The man who overestimates the foolishness of others is + himself the biggest fool concerned. A lame horse—the prince’s + generosity—making your adieux. Mon Dieu! you should know me better + than that after all these years. No, you need not look at the door. No one + will interrupt us. I have seen to that.” + </p> + <p> + His attitude and manner indicated a complete mastery of the situation, but + whether this assumption was justified by fact or was a mere trick it was + impossible to say. There was in the man something strong and good and calm—a + manner never acquired by one who has anything to conceal. His dignity was + perfect. One forgot his stoutness, his heavy breathing, his ungainly size. + He was essentially manly, and a presence to be feared. The strength of his + will made itself felt. + </p> + <p> + He turned to the princess with the grave courtesy that always marked his + attitude toward her. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” he said, “I fully recognize your cleverness in + raising yourself to the position you now occupy. But I would remind you + that that position carries with it certain obligations. It is hardly + dignified for a princess to engage herself in a vulgar love intrigue in + her own house.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not a vulgar love intrigue!” cried Etta, with blazing + eyes. “I will not allow you to say that! Where is your boasted + friendship? Is this a sample of it?” + </p> + <p> + Karl Steinmetz bowed gravely, with outspread hands. + </p> + <p> + “Madame, that friendship is at your service, now as always.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville gave a scornful little laugh. He was biting the end of his + mustache as he watched Etta’s face. For a moment the woman stood—not + the first woman to stand thus—between two fears. Then she turned to + Steinmetz. The victory was his—the greatest he had ever torn from + the grasp of Claude de Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + “You know,” she said, “that this man has me in his + power.” + </p> + <p> + “You alone. But not both of us together,” answered Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville looked uneasy. He gave a careless little laugh. + </p> + <p> + “My good Steinmetz, you allow your imagination to run away with you. + You interfere in what does not concern you.” + </p> + <p> + “My very dear De Chauxville, I think not. At all events, I am going + to continue to interfere.” + </p> + <p> + Etta looked from one to the other. She had at the first impulse gone over + to Steinmetz. She was now meditating drawing back. If De Chauxville kept + cool all might yet be well—the dread secret of the probability of + Sydney Bamborough being alive might still be withheld from Steinmetz. For + the moment it would appear that she was about to occupy the ignominious + position of the bone of contention. If these two men were going to use her + as a mere excuse to settle a lifelong quarrel of many issues, it was + probable that there would not be much left of her character by the time + that they had finished. + </p> + <p> + She had to decide quickly. She decided to assume the role of peacemaker. + </p> + <p> + “M. de Chauxville was on the point of going,” she said. + “Let him go.” + </p> + <p> + “M. de Chauxville is not going until I have finished with him, + madame. This may be the last time we meet. I hope it is.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville looked uneasy. His was a ready wit, and fear was the only + feeling that paralyzed it. Etta looked at him. Was his wit going to desert + him now when he most needed it? He had ridden boldly into the lion’s + den. Such a proceeding requires a certain courage, but a higher form of + intrepidity is required to face the lion standing before the exit. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville looked at Steinmetz with shifty eyes. He was very like the + mask of the lynx in the smoking-room, even to the self-conscious, + deprecatory smile on the countenance of the forest sneak. + </p> + <p> + “Keep your temper,” he said; “do not let us quarrel in + the presence of a lady.” + </p> + <p> + “No; we will keep the quarrel till afterward.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz turned to Etta. + </p> + <p> + “Princess,” he said, “will you now, in my presence, + forbid this man to come to this or any other house of yours? Will you + forbid him to address himself either by speech or letter to you again?” + </p> + <p> + “You know I cannot do that,” replied Etta. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + Etta made no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” replied De Chauxville for her, “the princess + is too wise to make an enemy of me. In that respect she is wiser than you. + She knows that I could send you and your prince to Siberia.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” he said. “Princess,” he went on, + “if you think that the fact of De Chauxville numbering among his + friends a few obscure police spies gives him the right to persecute you, + you are mistaken. Our friend is very clever, but he can do no harm with + the little that he knows of the Charity League.” + </p> + <p> + Etta remained silent. The silence made Steinmetz frown. + </p> + <p> + “Princess,” he said gravely, “you were indignant just + now because I made so bold as to put the most natural construction upon + the circumstances in which I found you. It was a prearranged meeting + between De Chauxville and yourself. If the meeting was not the outcome of + an intrigue such as I mentioned, nor the result of this man’s hold + over you on account of the Charity League, what was it? I beg of you to + answer.” + </p> + <p> + Etta made no reply. Instead, she raised her eyes and looked at De + Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + “Without going into affairs which do not concern you,” said + the Frenchman, answering for her, “I think you will recognize that + the secret of the Charity League was quite sufficient excuse for me to + request a few minutes alone with the princess.” + </p> + <p> + Of this Steinmetz took no notice. He was standing in front of Etta, + between De Chauxville and the door. His broad, deeply lined face was + flushed with the excitement of the moment. His great mournful eyes, yellow + and drawn with much reading and the hardships of a rigorous climate, were + fixed anxiously on her face. + </p> + <p> + Etta was not looking at him. Her eyes were turned toward the window, but + they did not see with comprehension. She was stony and stubborn. + </p> + <p> + “Princess,” said Steinmetz, “answer me before it is too + late. Has De Chauxville any other hold over you?” + </p> + <p> + Etta nodded, and the little action brought a sudden gleam to the Frenchman’s + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “If,” said Steinmetz, looking from one to the other, “if + you two have been deceiving Paul I will have no mercy, I warn you of that.” + </p> + <p> + Etta turned on him. + </p> + <p> + “Can you not believe me?” she cried. “I have practised + no deception in common with M. de Chauxville.” + </p> + <p> + “The Charity League is quite enough for you, my friend,” put + in the Frenchman hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + “You know no more of the Charity League than you did before—than + the whole world knew before—except this lady’s share in the + disposal of the papers,” said Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + “And this lady’s share in the disposal of the papers will not + be welcome news to the prince,” answered De Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + “Welcome or unwelcome, he shall be told of it to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Etta looked round sharply, her lips apart and trembling. + </p> + <p> + “By whom?” asked De Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + “By me,” replied Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + There was a momentary pause. De Chauxville and Etta exchanged a glance. + Etta felt that she was lost. This Frenchman was not one to spare either + man or woman from any motive of charity or chivalry. + </p> + <p> + “Even if that is so,” he said, “the princess is not + relieved from the embarrassment of her situation.” + </p> + <p> + “No?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my astute friend. There is a little matter connected with + Sydney Bamborough which has come to my knowledge.” + </p> + <p> + Etta moved, but she said nothing. The sound of her breathing was + startlingly loud. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Sydney Bamborough,” said Steinmetz slowly. “What + about him?” + </p> + <p> + “He is not dead; that is all.” + </p> + <p> + Karl Steinmetz passed his broad hand down over his face, covering his + mouth for a second. + </p> + <p> + “But he died. He was found on the steppe, and buried at Tver.” + </p> + <p> + “So the story runs,” said De Chauxville, with easy sarcasm. + “But who found him on the steppe? Who buried him at Tver?” + </p> + <p> + “I did, my friend.” + </p> + <p> + The next second Steinmetz staggered back a step or two as Etta fell + heavily into his arms. But he never took his eyes off De Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVII — @ DEUX + </h2> + <p> + Steinmetz laid Etta on a sofa. She was already recovering consciousness. + He rang the bell twice, and all the while he kept his eye on De + Chauxville. A quick touch on Etta’s wrist and breast showed that + this man knew something of women and of those short-lived fainting fits + that belong to strong emotions. + </p> + <p> + The maid soon came. + </p> + <p> + “The princess requires your attention,” said Steinmetz, still + watching De Chauxville, who was looking at Etta and neglecting his + opportunities. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz went up to him and took him by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Come with me,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The Frenchman could have taken advantage of the presence of the servant to + effect a retreat, but he did not dare to do so. It was essential that he + should obtain a few words with Etta. To effect this, he was ready even to + face an interview with Steinmetz. In his heart he was cursing that + liability to inconvenient fainting fits that make all women unreliable in + a moment of need. + </p> + <p> + He preceded Steinmetz out of the room, forgetting even to resent the + large, warm grasp on his arm. They went through the long, dimly lit + passage to the old part of the castle, where Steinmetz had his rooms. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said Steinmetz, when they were alone with closed + doors, “and now, De Chauxville, let us understand each other.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville shrugged his shoulders. He was not thinking of Steinmetz + yet. He was still thinking of Etta and how he could get speech with her. + With the assurance which had carried him through many a difficulty before + this, the Frenchman looked round him, taking in the details of the room. + They were in the apartment beyond the large smoking room—the + ante-room, as it were, to the little chamber where Paul kept his + medicine-chest, his disguise, all the compromising details of his work + among the peasants. The broad writing-table in the middle of the room + stood between the two men. + </p> + <p> + “Do you imagine yourself in love with the princess?” asked + Steinmetz suddenly, with characteristic bluntness. + </p> + <p> + “If you like,” returned the other. + </p> + <p> + “If I thought that it was that,” said the German, looking at + him thoughtfully, “I would throw you out of the window. If it is any + thing else, I will only throw you down stairs.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville bit his thumb-nail anxiously. He frowned across the table + into Steinmetz’s face. In all their intercourse he had never heard + that tone of voice; he had never seen quite that look on the heavy face. + Was Steinmetz aroused at last? Steinmetz aroused was an unknown quantity + to Claude de Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + “I have known you now for twenty-five years,” went on Karl + Steinmetz, “and I cannot say that I know any good of you. But let + that pass; it is not, I suppose, my business. The world is as the good God + made it. I can do nothing toward bettering it. I have always known you to + be a scoundrel—a fact to be deplored—and that is all. But so + soon as your villany affects my own life, then, my friend, a more active + recognition of it is necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” sneered the Frenchman. + </p> + <p> + “Your villany has touched Paul’s life, and at that point it + touches mine,” continued Karl Steinmetz, with slow anger. “You + followed us to Petersburg—thence you dogged us to the Government of + Tver. You twisted that foolish woman, the Countess Lanovitch, round your + finger, and obtained from her an invitation to Thors. All this in order to + be near one of us. Ach! I have been watching you. Is it only after + twenty-five years that I at last convince you that I am not such a fool as + you are pleased to consider me?” + </p> + <p> + “You have not convinced me yet,” put in De Chauxville, with + his easy laugh. + </p> + <p> + “No, but I shall do so before I have finished with you. Now, you + have not come here for nothing. It is to be near one of us. It is not Miss + Delafield; she knows you. Some women—good women—have an + instinct given to them by God for a defence against such men—such + things as you. Is it I?” + </p> + <p> + He touched his broad chest with his two hands, and stood defying his + life-long foe. + </p> + <p> + “Is it me that you follow? If so, I am here. Let us have done with + it now.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville laughed. There was an uneasy look in his eyes. He did not + quite understand Steinmetz. He made no answer. But he turned and looked at + the window. It is possible that he suddenly remembered the threat + concerning it. + </p> + <p> + “Is it Paul?” continued Steinmetz. “I think not. I think + you are afraid of Paul. Remains the princess. Unless you can convince me + to the contrary, I must conclude that you are trying to get a helpless + woman into your power.” + </p> + <p> + “You always were a champion of helpless ladies,” sneered De + Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! You remember that, do you? I also—I remember it. It is + long ago, and I have forgiven you; but I have not forgotten. What you were + then you will be now. Your record is against you.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz was standing with his back to what appeared to be the only exit + from the room. There were two other doors concealed in the oaken panels, + but De Chauxville did not know that. He could not take his eyes from the + broad face of his companion, upon which there were singular blotches of + color. + </p> + <p> + “I am waiting,” said the German, “for you to explain + your conduct.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” replied De Chauxville. “Then, my friend, you + will have to continue waiting. I fail to recognize your right to make + enquiry into my movements. I am not responsible to any man for my actions, + least of all to you. The man who manages his neighbor’s affairs + mismanages his own. I would recommend you to mind your own business. + Kindly let me pass.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville’s words were brave enough, but his lips were unsteady. + A weak mouth is apt to betray its possessor at inconvenient moments. He + waved Steinmetz aside, but he made no movement toward the door. He kept + the table between him and his companion. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz was getting calmer. There was an uncanny hush about him. + </p> + <p> + “Then I am to conclude,” he said, “that you came to + Russia in order to persecute a helpless woman. Her innocence or her guilt + is, for the moment, beside the question. Neither is any business of yours. + Both, on the contrary, are my affair. Innocent or guilty, the Princess + Howard Alexis must from this moment be freed from your persecution.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville shrugged his shoulders. He tapped on the floor impatiently + with the toe of his neat riding-boot. + </p> + <p> + “Allons!” he said. “Let me pass!” + </p> + <p> + “Your story of Sydney Bamborough,” went on Steinmetz coldly, + “was a good one wherewith to frighten a panic-stricken woman. But + you brought it to the wrong person when you brought it to me. Do you + suppose that I would have allowed the marriage to take place unless I knew + that Bamborough was dead?” + </p> + <p> + “You may be telling the truth about that incident or you may not,” + said De Chauxville. “But my knowledge of the betrayal of the Charity + League is sufficient for my purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” admitted Steinmetz grimly, “you have information + there with possibilities of mischief in it. But I shall discount most of + it by telling Prince Pavlo to-night all that I know, and I know more than + you do. Also, I intend to seal your lips before you leave this room.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville stared at him with a dropping lip. He gulped down something + in his throat. His hand was stealing round under the fur jacket to a + pocket at the back of his trousers. + </p> + <p> + “Let me out!” he hissed. + </p> + <p> + There was a gleam of bright metal in the sunlight that poured in through + the window. De Chauxville raised his arm sharply, and at the same instant + Steinmetz threw a book in his face. A loud report, and the room was full + of smoke. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz placed one hand on the table and, despite his weight, vaulted it + cleanly. This man had taken his degree at Heidelberg, and the Germans are + the finest gymnasts in the world. Moreover, muscle, once made, remains + till death. It was his only chance, for the Frenchman had dodged the + novel, but it spoiled his aim. Steinmetz vaulted right on to him, and De + Chauxville staggered back. + </p> + <p> + In a moment Steinmetz had him by the collar; his face was gray, his heavy + eyes ablaze. If any thing will rouse a man, it is being fired at + point-blank at a range of four yards with a .280 revolver. + </p> + <p> + “Ach!” gasped the German; “you would shoot me, would + you?” + </p> + <p> + He wrenched the pistol from De Chauxville’s fingers and threw it + into the corner of the room. Then he shook the man like a garment. + </p> + <p> + “First,” he cried, “you would kill Paul, and now you try + to shoot me! Good God! what are you? You are no man. Do you know what I am + going to do with you? I am going to thrash you like a dog!” + </p> + <p> + He dragged him to the fire-place. Above the mantelpiece a stick-rack was + affixed to the wall, and here were sticks and riding-whips. Steinmetz + selected a heavy whip. His eyes were shot with blood; his mouth worked + beneath his mustache. + </p> + <p> + “So,” he said, “I am going to settle with you at last.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville kicked and struggled, but he could not get free. He only + succeeded in half choking himself. + </p> + <p> + “You are going to swear,” said Steinmetz, “never to + approach the princess again—never to divulge what you know of her + past life.” + </p> + <p> + The Frenchman was almost blue in the face. His eyes were wild with terror. + </p> + <p> + And Karl Steinmetz thrashed him. + </p> + <p> + It did not last long. No word was spoken. The silence was only broken by + their shuffling feet, by the startling report of each blow, by De + Chauxville’s repeated gasps of pain. + </p> + <p> + The fur jacket was torn in several places. The white shirt appeared here + and there. In one place it was stained with red. + </p> + <p> + At last Steinmetz threw him huddled into one corner of the room. The + chattering face, the wild eyes that looked up at him, were terrible to + see. + </p> + <p> + “When you have promised to keep the secret you may go,” said + Steinmetz. “You must swear it.” + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville’s lips moved, but no sound came from them. Steinmetz + poured some water into a tumbler and gave it to him. + </p> + <p> + “It had to come to this,” he said, “sooner or later. + Paul would have killed you; that is the only difference. Do you swear by + God in heaven above you that you will keep the princess’s secret?” + </p> + <p> + “I swear it,” answered De Chauxville hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz was holding on to the back of a high chair with both hands, + breathing heavily. His face was still livid. That which had been white in + his eyes was quite red. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville was crawling toward the revolver in the corner of the room, + but he was almost fainting. It was a question whether he would last long + enough to reach the fire-arm. There was a bright patch of red in either + liver-colored cheek; his lips were working convulsively. And Steinmetz saw + him in time. He seized him by the collar of his coat and dragged him back. + He placed his foot on the little pistol and faced De Chauxville with + glaring eyes. De Chauxville rose to his feet, and for a moment the two men + looked into each other’s souls. The Frenchman’s face was + twisted with pain. No word was said. + </p> + <p> + Such was the last reckoning between Karl Steinmetz and the Baron Claude de + Chauxville. + </p> + <p> + The Frenchman went slowly toward the door. He faltered and looked round + for a chair. He sat heavily down with a little exclamation of pain and + exhaustion, and felt for his pocket-handkerchief. The scented cambric + diffused a faint, dainty odor of violets. He sat forward with his two + hands on his knees, swaying a little from side to side. Presently he + raised his handkerchief to his face. There were tears in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Thus the two men waited until De Chauxville had recovered himself + sufficiently to take his departure. The air was full of naked human + passions. It was rather a grewsome scene. + </p> + <p> + At last the Frenchman stood slowly up, and with characteristic thought of + appearances fingered his torn coat. + </p> + <p> + “Have you a cloak?” asked Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + The German went to a cupboard in the wall and selected a long + riding-cloak, which he handed to the Frenchman without a word. + </p> + <p> + Thus Claude de Chauxville walked to the door in a cloak which had figured + at many a Charity League meeting. Assuredly the irony of Fate is a keener + thing than any poor humor we have at our command. When evil is punished in + this present life there is no staying of the hand. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz followed De Chauxville through the long passage they had + traversed a few minutes earlier and down the broad staircase. The servants + were waiting at the door with the horse put at the Frenchman’s + disposal by Paul. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville mounted slowly, heavily, with twitching lips. His face was + set and cold now. The pain was getting bearable, the wounded vanity was + bleeding inwardly. In his dull eyes there was a gleam of hatred and + malice. It was the face of a man rejoicing inwardly over a deep and + certain vengeance. + </p> + <p> + “It is well!” he was muttering between his clenched teeth as + he rode away, while Steinmetz watched him from the doorstep. “It is + well! Now I will not spare you.” + </p> + <p> + He rode down the hill and through the village, with the light of the + setting sun shining on a face where pain and deadly rage were fighting for + the mastery. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVIII — A TALE THAT IS TOLD + </h2> + <p> + Karl Steinmetz walked slowly upstairs to his own room. The evening sun, + shining through the small, deeply embrasured windows, fell on a face at no + time joyous, now tired and worn. He sat down at his broad writing-table, + and looked round the room with a little blink of the eyelids. + </p> + <p> + “I am getting too old for this sort of thing,” he said. + </p> + <p> + His gaze lighted on the heavy riding-whip thrown on the ground near the + door where he had released Claude de Chauxville, after the terrible + punishment meted out to that foe with heavy Teutonic hand. Steinmetz rose, + and picking up the whip with the grunt of a stout man stooping, replaced + it carefully in the rack over the mantelpiece. + </p> + <p> + He stood looking out of the window for a few moments. + </p> + <p> + “It will have to be done,” he said resolutely, and rang the + bell. + </p> + <p> + “My compliments to the prince,” he said to his servant, who + appeared instantly, “and will he come to me here.” + </p> + <p> + When Paul came into the room a few minutes later Steinmetz was standing by + the fire. He turned and looked gravely at the prince. + </p> + <p> + “I have just kicked De Chauxville out of the house,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The color left Paul’s face quite suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” he asked, with hard eyes. He had begun to distrust + Etta, and there is nothing so hard to stop as the growth of distrust. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz did not answer at once. + </p> + <p> + “Was it not <i>my</i> privilege?” asked Paul, with a grim + smile. There are some smiles more terrible than any frown. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Steinmetz, “I think not. It is not as bad + as that. But it is bad enough, mein lieber!—it is bad enough! I + horsewhipped him first for myself. Gott! how pleasant that was! And then I + kicked him out for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” repeated Paul, with a white face. + </p> + <p> + “It is a long story,” answered Steinmetz, without looking at + him. “He knows too much.” + </p> + <p> + “About whom?” + </p> + <p> + “About all of us.” + </p> + <p> + Paul walked away to the window. He stood looking out, his hands thrust + into the side-pockets of his jacket, his broad back turned + uncompromisingly upon his companion. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me the story,” he said. “You need not hurry over + it. You need not trouble to—spare me. Only let it be quite complete—once + for all.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz winced. He knew the expression of the face that was looking out + of the window. + </p> + <p> + “This man has hated me all his life,” he said. “It began + as such things usually do between men—about a woman. It was years + ago. I got the better of him, and the good God got the better of me. She + died, and De Chauxville forgot her. I—have not forgotten her. But I + have tried to do so. It is a slow process, and I have made very little + progress; but all that is my affair and beside the question. I merely + mention it to show you that De Chauxville had a grudge against me—” + </p> + <p> + “This is no time for mistaken charity,” interrupted Paul. + “Do not try to screen any body. I shall see through it.” + </p> + <p> + There was a little pause. Never had that silent room been so noiseless. + </p> + <p> + “In after-life,” Steinmetz went on, “it was our fate to + be at variance several times. Our mutual dislike has had no opportunity of + diminishing. It seems that, before you married, De Chauxville was pleased + to consider himself in love with Mrs. Sydney Bamborough. Whether he had + any right to think himself ill-used, I do not know. Such matters are + usually known to two persons only, and imperfectly by them. It would + appear that the wound to his vanity was serious. It developed into a + thirst for revenge. He looked about for some means to do you harm. He + communicated with your enemies, and allied himself to such men as Vassili + of Paris. He followed us to Petersburg, and then he had a stroke of good + fortune. He found out—who betrayed the Charity League!” + </p> + <p> + Paul turned slowly round. In his eyes there burned a dull, hungering fire. + Men have seen such a look in the eyes of a beast of prey, driven, + famished, cornered at last, and at last face to face with its foe. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! He knows that!” he said slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, God help us! he knows that.” + </p> + <p> + “And who was it?” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz moved uneasily from one foot to the other. + </p> + <p> + “It was a woman,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “A woman?” + </p> + <p> + “A woman—you know,” said Steinmetz slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Good God! Catrina?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not Catrina.” + </p> + <p> + “Then who?” cried Paul hoarsely. His hands fell heavily on the + table. + </p> + <p> + “Your wife!” + </p> + <p> + Paul knew before the words were spoken. + </p> + <p> + He turned again, and stood looking out of the window with his hands thrust + into his pockets. He stood there for whole minutes in an awful stillness. + The clock on the mantel-piece, a little travelling timepiece, ticked in a + hurried way as if anxious to get on. Down beneath them, somewhere in the + courtyards of the great castle, a dog—a deep-voiced wolf-hound—was + baying persistently and nervously, listening for the echo of its own voice + amid the pines of the desert forest. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz watched Paul’s motionless back with a sort of fascination. + He moved uneasily, as if to break a spell of silence almost unbearable in + its intensity. He went to the table and sat down. From mere habit he took + up a quill pen. He looked at the point of it and at the inkstand. But he + had nothing to write. There was nothing to say. + </p> + <p> + He laid the pen aside, and sat leaning his broad head upon the palm of his + hand, his two elbows on the table. Paul never moved. Steinmetz waited. His + own life had been no great success. He had had much to bear, and he had + borne it. He was wondering heavily whether any of it had been as bad as + what Paul was bearing now while he looked out of the window with his hands + in his pockets, saying nothing. + </p> + <p> + At length Paul moved. He turned, and, coming toward the table, laid his + hand on Steinmetz’s broad shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure of it?” he asked, in a voice that did not sound + like his own at all—a hollow voice like that of an old man. + </p> + <p> + “Quite; I have it from Stipan Lanovitch—from the princess + herself.” + </p> + <p> + They remained thus for a moment. Then Paul withdrew his hand and walked + slowly to the window. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” he said, “how she did it.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz was playing with the quill pen again. It is singular how at + great moments we perform trivial acts, think trivial thoughts. He dipped + the pen in the ink, and made a pattern on the blotting-pad with dots. + </p> + <p> + “It was an organized plan between husband and wife,” he said. + “Bamborough turned up at Thors and asked for a night’s + lodging, on the strength of a very small acquaintance. He stole the papers + from Stipan’s study and took them to Tver, where his wife was + waiting for them. She took them on to Paris and sold them to Vassili. + Bamborough began his journey eastward, knowing presumably that he could + not escape by the western frontier, but lost his way on the steppe. You + remember the man whom we picked up between here and Tver, with his face + all cut to pieces?—he had been dragged by the stirrup. That was + Sydney Bamborough. The good God had hit back quickly.” + </p> + <p> + “How long have you known this?” asked Paul, in a queer voice. + </p> + <p> + “I saw it suddenly in the princess’s face, one day in + Petersburg—a sort of revelation. I read it there, and she saw me + reading. I should have liked to keep it from you, for your sake as well as + for hers. Our daily life is made possible only by the fact that we know so + little of our neighbors. There are many things of which we are better + ignorant right up to the end. This might have been one of them. But De + Chauxville found it out, and it is better that I should tell you than he.” + </p> + <p> + Paul did not look around. The wolf-hound was still barking at its own echo—a + favorite pastime of those who make a great local stir in the world. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Paul, after a long pause, “I have been + a great fool. I know that. But—” + </p> + <p> + He turned and looked at Steinmetz with haggard eyes. + </p> + <p> + “But I would rather go on being a fool than suspect any one of a + deception like this.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz was still making patterns on the blotting-pad. + </p> + <p> + “It is difficult for us men,” he said slowly, “to look + at these things from a woman’s point of view. They hold a different + sense of honor from ours—especially if they are beautiful. And the + fault is ours—especially toward the beautiful ones. There may have + been temptations of which we are ignorant.” + </p> + <p> + Paul was still looking at him. Steinmetz looked up slowly, and saw that he + had grown ten years older in the last few minutes. He did not look at him + for more than a second, because the sight of Paul’s face hurt him. + But he saw in that moment that Paul did not understand. This strong man, + hard in his youthful strength of limb and purpose, would be just, but + nothing more. And between man and man it is not always justice that is + required. Between man and woman justice rarely meets the difficulty. + </p> + <p> + “Comprendre c’est pardonner,” quoted Steinmetz vaguely. + </p> + <p> + He hesitated to interfere between Paul and his wife. Axioms are made for + crucial moments. A man’s life has been steered by a proverb before + this. Some, who have no religion, steer by them all the voyage. + </p> + <p> + Paul walked slowly to the chair he usually occupied, opposite to + Steinmetz, at the writing-table. He walked and sat down as if he had + travelled a long distance. + </p> + <p> + “What is to be done?” asked Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know. I do not think that it matters much. What do you + recommend?” + </p> + <p> + “There is so much to be done,” answered Steinmetz, “that + it is difficult to know what to do first. We must not forget that De + Chauxville is furious. He will do all the harm of which he is capable at + once. We must not forget that the country is in a state of smoldering + revolt, and that we have two women, two English ladies, entrusted to our + care.” + </p> + <p> + Paul moved uneasily in his chair. His companion had struck the right note. + This large man was happiest when he was tiring himself out. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but about Etta?” he said. + </p> + <p> + And the sound of his voice made Steinmetz wince. There is nothing so + heartrending as the sight of dumb suffering. + </p> + <p> + “You must see her,” answered he reflectively. “You must + see her, of course. She may be able to explain.” + </p> + <p> + He looked across the table beneath his shaggy gray eyebrows. Paul did not + at that moment look a likely subject for explanations—even the + explanations of a beautiful woman. But there was one human quantity which + in all his experience Karl Steinmetz had never successfully gauged—namely, + the extent of a woman’s power over the man who loves, or at one time + has loved her. + </p> + <p> + “She cannot explain away Stipan Lanovitch’s ruined life. She + can hardly explain away a thousand deaths from unnatural causes every + winter, in this province alone.” + </p> + <p> + This was what Steinmetz dreaded—justice. + </p> + <p> + “Give her the opportunity,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Paul was looking out of the window. His singularly firm mouth was still + and quiet—not a mouth for explanations. + </p> + <p> + “I will, if you like,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I do like, Paul. I beg of you to do it. And remember that—she + is not a man.” + </p> + <p> + This, like other appeals of the same nature, fell on stony ground. Paul + simply did not understand it. In all the years of his work among the + peasants it is possible that some well-spring of conventional charity had + been dried up—scorched in the glare of burning injustice. He was not + at this moment in a mood to consider the only excuse that Steinmetz seemed + to be able to urge. + </p> + <p> + The sun had set long ago. The short twilight lay over the snow-covered + land with a chill hopelessness. Steinmetz looked at his watch. They had + been together an hour—one of those hours that count as years in a + life time. He had to peer into the face of the watch in order to see the + hands. The room was almost dark, and no servant ever came to it, unless + summoned. + </p> + <p> + Paul was looking down at his companion, as if waiting to hear the time. At + great moments we are suddenly brought face to face with the limits of + human nature. It is at such moments that we find that we are not gods, but + only men. We can only feel to a certain extent, only suffer up to a + certain point. + </p> + <p> + “We must dress for dinner,” said Steinmetz. “Afterward—well, + afterward we shall see.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Paul. And he did not go. + </p> + <p> + The two men stood looking at each other for a moment. They had passed + through much together—danger, excitement, and now they were dabbling + in sorrow. It would appear that this same sorrow runs like a river across + the road of our life. Some of us find the ford and plash through the + shallows—shallow ourselves—while others flounder into deep + water. These are they who look right on to the greater events, and fail to + note the trivial details of each little step. Paul was wading through the + deep water, and this good friend of his was not inclined to stand upon the + bank. It is while passing through this river that Fortune sends some of us + a friend, who is ever afterward different from all others. + </p> + <p> + Paul stood looking down at the broad, heavy face of the man who loved him + like a father. It was not easy for him to speak. He seemed to be making an + effort. + </p> + <p> + “I do not want you to think,” he said at last, “that it + is as bad as it might have been. It might have been worse—much worse—had + I not made a mistake in regard to my own feelings when I married her. I + will try and do the right thing by her. Only at present there does not + seem to be much left, except you.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz looked up with his quaintly resigned smile. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes,” he said, “I am there always.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIX — HUSBAND AND WIFE + </h2> + <p> + Karl Steinmetz had shown the depth of his knowledge of men and women when + he commented on that power of facing danger with an unruffled countenance + which he was pleased to attribute to English ladies above all women. + During the evening he had full opportunity of verifying his own + observations. + </p> + <p> + Etta came down to dinner smiling and imperturbable. On the threshold of + the drawing-room she exchanged a glance with Karl Steinmetz; and that was + all. At dinner it was Maggie and Paul who were silent. Etta talked to + Steinmetz—brightly, gayly, with a certain courage of a very high + order; for she was desperate, and she did not show it. + </p> + <p> + At last the evening came to an end. Maggie had sung two songs. Steinmetz + had performed on the piano with a marvellous touch. All had played their + parts with the brazen faces which Steinmetz, in his knowledge of many + nations, assigned to the Anglo-Saxon race before others. + </p> + <p> + At last Etta rose to go to bed, with a little sharp sigh of great + suspense. It was coming. + </p> + <p> + She went up to her room, bidding Maggie good-night in the passage. In a + mechanical way she allowed the deft-handed maid to array her in a dressing + gown—soft, silken, a dainty triumph in its way. Then, almost + impatiently, she sent the maid away when her hair was only half released. + She would brush it herself. She was tired. No, she wanted nothing more. + </p> + <p> + She sat down by the fire, brush in hand. She could hardly breathe. It was + coming. + </p> + <p> + She heard Paul come to his dressing-room. She heard his deep, quiet voice + reply to some question of his valet’s. Then the word “Good-night” + in the same quiet voice. The valet had gone. There was only the door now + between her and—what? Her fingers were at the throat of her + dressing-gown. The soft lace seemed to choke her. + </p> + <p> + Then Paul knocked at the door. It was coming. She opened her lips, but at + first could make no sound. + </p> + <p> + “Come in!” she said at length hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + She wondered whether he would kill her. She wondered whether she was in + love with her husband. She had begun wondering that lately; she was + wondering it when he came in. He had changed his dress-coat for a + silk-faced jacket, in which he was in the habit of working with Steinmetz + in the quiet room after the household had gone to bed. + </p> + <p> + She looked up. She dropped the brush, and ran toward him with a great + rustle of her flowing silks. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Paul, what is it?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + She stopped short, not daring to touch him, before his cold, set face. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen any one?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Only De Chauxville,” he answered, “this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, Paul,” she protested hastily, “it was nothing. + A message from Catrina Lanovitch. It was only the usual visit of an + acquaintance. It would have been very strange if he had not called. Do you + think I could care for a man like that?” + </p> + <p> + “I never did think so until now,” returned Paul steadily. + “Your excuses accuse you. You may care for him. I do not know; I—do—not—care.” + </p> + <p> + She turned slowly and went back to her chair. + </p> + <p> + Mechanically she took up the brush, and shook back her beautiful hair. + </p> + <p> + “You mean you do not care for me,” she said. “Oh, Paul! + be careful.” + </p> + <p> + Paul stood looking at her. He was not a subtle-minded man at all. He was + not one of those who take it upon themselves to say that they understand + women—using the word in an offensively general sense, as if women + were situated midway between the human and the animal races. He was + old-fashioned enough to look upon women as higher and purer than men, + while equally capable of thought and self-control. He had, it must be + remembered, no great taste for fictional literature. He had not read the + voluminous lucubrations of the modern woman writer. He had not assisted at + the nauseating spectacle of a woman morally turning herself inside out in + three volumes and an interview. + </p> + <p> + No, this man respected women still; and he paid them an honor which, thank + Heaven, most of them still deserve. He treated them as men in the sense + that he considered them to be under the same code of right and wrong, of + good and evil. + </p> + <p> + He did not understand what Etta meant when she told him to be careful. He + did not know that the modern social code is like the Spanish grammar—there + are so many exceptions that the rules are hardly worth noting. And one of + our most notorious modern exceptions is the married woman who is pleased + to hold herself excused because outsiders tell her that her husband does + not understand her. + </p> + <p> + “I do not think,” said Paul judicially, “that you can + have cared very much whether I loved you or not. When you married me you + knew that I was the promoter of the Charity League; I almost told you. I + told you so much that, with your knowledge, you must have been aware of + the fact that I was heavily interested in the undertaking which you + betrayed. You married me without certain proof of your husband’s + death, such was your indecent haste to call yourself a princess. And now I + find, on your own confession, that you have a clandestine understanding + with a man who tried to murder me only a week ago. Is it not rather absurd + to talk of caring?” + </p> + <p> + He stood looking down at her, cold and terrible in the white heat of his + suppressed Northern anger. + </p> + <p> + The little clock on the mantel-piece, in a terrible hurry, ticked with all + its might. Time was speeding. Every moment was against her. And she could + think of nothing to say simply because those things that she would have + said to others would carry no weight with this man. + </p> + <p> + Etta was leaning forward in the luxurious chair, staring with haggard eyes + into the fire. The flames leaped up and gleamed on her pale face, in her + deep eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” she said, without looking at him, “that you + will not believe me when I tell you that I hate the man. I knew nothing of + what you refer to as happening last week; his attempt to murder you, I + mean. You are a prince, and all-powerful in your own province. Can you not + throw him into prison and keep him there? Such things are done in Russia. + He is more dangerous than you think. Please do it—please—” + </p> + <p> + Paul looked at her with hard, unresponsive eyes. Lives depended on his + answer. + </p> + <p> + “I did not come here to discuss Claude de Chauxville,” he + said, “but you, and our future.” + </p> + <p> + Etta drew herself up as one under the lash, and waited with set teeth. + </p> + <p> + “I propose,” he said, in a final voice which made it no + proposition at all, “that you go home to England at once with—your + cousin. This country is not safe for you. The house in London will be at + your disposal. I will make a suitable settlement on you, sufficient to + live in accordance with your title and position. I must ask you to + remember that the name you bear has hitherto been an unsullied one. We + have been proud of our princesses—up to now. In case of any trouble + reaching you from outside sources connected with this country, I should + like you to remember that you are under my protection and that of + Steinmetz. Either of us will be glad at any time to consider any appeal + for assistance that you may think fit to make. You will always be the + Princess Howard Alexis.” + </p> + <p> + Etta gave a sudden laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” she said, and her face was strangely red, “I + shall still be the Princess Alexis.” + </p> + <p> + “With sufficient money to keep up the position,” he went on, + with the cruel irony of a slow-spoken man. + </p> + <p> + A queer, twisted smile passed across Etta’s face—the smile of + one who is in agony and will not shriek. + </p> + <p> + “There are certain stipulations which I must make in self-defence,” + went on Paul. “I must ask you to cease all communication of whatever + nature with the Baron de Chauxville. I am not jealous of him—now. I + do not know why.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, as if wondering what the meaning of this might be. Etta knew + it. The knowledge was part of her punishment. + </p> + <p> + “But,” continued her husband. “I am not going to + sacrifice the name my mother bore to the vanity of a French coxcomb. You + will be kind enough to avoid all society where it is likely that you + should meet him. If you disregard my desires in this matter, I shall be + compelled to take means to enforce them.” + </p> + <p> + “What means?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall reduce your allowance.” + </p> + <p> + Their eyes met, and perhaps that was the bitterest moment in Etta’s + life. Dead things are better put out of sight at once. Etta felt that Paul’s + dead love would grin at her in every sovereign of the allowance which was + to be hers. She would never get away from it; she could never shake off + its memory. + </p> + <p> + “Am I to live alone?” asked Etta, suddenly finding her voice. + </p> + <p> + “That is as you like,” answered Paul, perhaps purposely + misunderstanding her. “You are at liberty to have any friend or + companion you wish. Perhaps—your cousin.” + </p> + <p> + “Maggie?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Paul. For the first time since he had entered + the room his eyes were averted from Etta’s face. + </p> + <p> + “She would not live with me,” said the princess curtly. + </p> + <p> + Paul seemed to be reflecting. When he next spoke it was in a kinder voice. + </p> + <p> + “You need not tell the circumstances which have given rise to this + arrangement.” + </p> + <p> + Etta shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “That,” went on Paul, “rests entirely with yourself. You + may be sure that I will tell no one. I am not likely to discuss it with + any one whomsoever.” + </p> + <p> + Etta’s stony eyes softened for a moment. She seemed to be + alternating between hatred of this man and love of him—a dangerous + state for any woman. It is possible that, if he had held his hand out to + her, she would have been at his feet in a wild, incoherent passion of + self-hatred and abasement. Such moments as these turn our lives and + determine them. Paul knew nothing of the issue hanging on this moment, on + the passing softness of her eyes. He knew nothing of the danger in which + this woman stood, of the temptation with which she was wrestling. He went + on in his blindness, went on being only just. + </p> + <p> + “If,” he said, “you have any further questions to ask, I + shall always be at your service. For the next few days I shall be busy. + The peasants are in a state of discontent verging on rebellion. We cannot + at present arrange for your journey to Tver, but as soon as it is possible + I will tell you.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at the clock, and made an imperceptible movement toward the + door. + </p> + <p> + Etta glanced up sharply. She did not seem to be breathing. + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” she asked, in a dull voice. + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence, tense and throbbing, the great silence of the + steppe. + </p> + <p> + “I think so,” answered Paul at length. “I have tried to + be just.” + </p> + <p> + “Then justice is very cruel.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so cruel as the woman who for a few pounds sells the happiness + of thousands of human beings. Steinmetz advised me to speak to you. He + suggested the possibility of circumstances of which we are ignorant. He + said that you might be able to explain.” + </p> + <p> + Silence. + </p> + <p> + “Can you explain?” + </p> + <p> + Silence. Etta sat looking into the fire. The little clock hurried on. At + length Etta drew a deep breath. + </p> + <p> + “You are the sort of man,” she said, “who does not + understand temptation. You are strong. The devil leaves the strong in + peace. You have found virtue easy because you have never wanted money. + Your position has always been assured. Your name alone is a password + through the world. Your sort are always hard on women who—who—What + have I done, after all?” + </p> + <p> + Some instinct bade her rise to her feet and stand before him—tall, + beautiful, passionate, a woman in a thousand, a fit mate for such as he. + Her beautiful hair in burnished glory round her face gleamed in the + firelight. Her white fingers clenched, her arms thrown back, her breast + panting beneath the lace, her proud face looking defiance into his—no + one but a prince could have braved this princess. + </p> + <p> + “What have I done?” she cried a second time. “I have + only fought for myself, and if I have won, so much the greater credit. I + am your wife. I have done nothing the law can touch. Thousands of women + moving in our circle are not half so good as I am. I swear before God I am——” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” he said, with upraised hand. “I never doubted + that.” + </p> + <p> + “I will do any thing you wish,” she went on, and in her + humility she was very dangerous. “I deceived you, I know. But I sold + the Charity League before I knew that you—that you thought of me. + When I married you I didn’t love you. I admit that. But Paul—oh, + Paul, if you were not so good you would understand.” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps he did understand; for there was that in her eyes that made her + meaning clear. + </p> + <p> + He was silent; standing before her in his great strength, his marvellous + and cruel self-restraint. + </p> + <p> + “You will not forgive me?” + </p> + <p> + For a moment she leaned forward, peering into his face. He seemed to be + reflecting. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said at length, “I forgive you. But if I cared + for you, forgiveness would be impossible.” + </p> + <p> + He went slowly toward the door. Etta looked round the room with drawn + eyes; their room—the room he had fitted up for his bride with the + lavishness of a great wealth and a great love. + </p> + <p> + He paused, with his hand on the door. + </p> + <p> + “And,” she said, with fiery cheeks, “does your + forgiveness date from to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” + </p> + <p> + He opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night!” he said, and went out. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XL — STIPAN RETURNS + </h2> + <p> + At daybreak the next morning Karl Steinmetz was awakened by the familiar + cry of the wolf beneath his window. He rose and dressed hastily. The + eastern sky was faintly pink; a rosy twilight moved among the pines. He + went down stairs and opened the little door at the back of the castle. + </p> + <p> + It was, of course, the starosta, shivering and bleached in the chilly + dawn. + </p> + <p> + “They have watched my cottage, Excellency, all night. It was only + now that I could get away. There are two strange sleighs outside Domensky’s + hut. There are marks of many sleighs that have been and gone. Excellency, + it is unsafe for any one to venture outside the castle to-day. You must + send to Tver for the soldiers.” + </p> + <p> + “The prince refuses to do that.” + </p> + <p> + “But why, Excellency? We shall be killed!” + </p> + <p> + “You do not know the effect of platoon firing on a closely packed + mob, starost. The prince does,” replied Steinmetz, with his grim + smile. + </p> + <p> + They spoke together in hushed voices for half an hour, while the daylight + crept up the eastern sky. Then the starosta stole away among the still + larches, like the wolf whose cry he imitated so perfectly. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz closed the door and went upstairs to his own room, his face + grave and thoughtful, his tread heavy with the weight of anxiety. + </p> + <p> + The day passed as such days do. Etta was not the woman to plead a + conventional headache and remain hidden. She came down to breakfast, and + during that meal was boldly conversational. + </p> + <p> + “She has spirit,” reflected Karl Steinmetz behind his quiet + gray eyes. He admired her for it, and helped her. He threw back the ball + of conversation with imperturbable good humor. + </p> + <p> + They were completely shut in. No news from the outer world penetrated to + the little party besieged within their own stone walls. Maggie, fearless + and innocent, announced her intention of snow-shoeing, but was dissuaded + therefrom by Steinmetz with covert warnings. + </p> + <p> + During the morning each was occupied in individual affairs. At luncheon + time they met again. Etta was now almost defiant. She was on her mettle. + She was so near to loving Paul that a hatred of him welled up within her + breast whenever he repelled her advances with uncompromising reticence. + </p> + <p> + They did not know—perhaps she hardly knew herself—that the + opening of the side-door depended upon her humor. + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon Etta and Maggie sat, as was their wont, in the + morning-room looking out over the cliff. Of late their intercourse had + been slightly strained. They had never had much in common, although + circumstances had thrown their lives together. It is one of the ills to + which women are heir that they have frequently to pass their whole lives + in the society of persons with whom they have no real sympathy. Both these + women were conscious of the little rift within the lute, but such rifts + are better treated with silence. That which comes to interfere with a + woman’s friendship will not often bear discussion. + </p> + <p> + At dusk Steinmetz went out. He had an appointment with the starosta. + </p> + <p> + Paul was sitting in his own room, making a pretence of work, about five o’clock, + when Steinmetz came hurriedly to him. + </p> + <p> + “A new development,” he said shortly. “Come to my room.” + </p> + <p> + Paul rose and followed him through the double doorway built in the + thickness of the wall. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz’s large room was lighted only by a lamp standing on the + table. All the light was thrown on the desk by a large green shade, + leaving the rest of the room in a semi-darkness. + </p> + <p> + At the far end of the room a man was standing in an expectant attitude. + There was something furtive about this intruder, and at the same time + familiar to Paul, who peered at him through the gloom. + </p> + <p> + Then the man came hurriedly forward. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Pavlo, Pavlo!” he said in a deep, hollow voice. “I + could not expect you to know me.” + </p> + <p> + He threw his arms around him, and embraced him after the simple manner of + Russia. Then he held him at arm’s length. + </p> + <p> + “Stipan!” said Paul. “No, I did not know you.” + </p> + <p> + Stipan Lanovitch was still holding him at arm’s length, examining + him with the large faint blue eyes which so often go with an exaggerated + philanthropy. + </p> + <p> + “Old,” he muttered, “old! Ah, my poor Pavlo! I heard in + Kiew—you know how we outlaws hear such things—that you were in + trouble, so I came to you.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz in the background raised his patient eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “There are two men in the world,” went on the voluble + Lanovitch, “who can manage the moujiks of Tver—you and I; so I + came. I will help you, Pavlo; I will stand by you. Together we can + assuredly quell this revolt.” + </p> + <p> + Paul nodded, and allowed himself to be embraced a second time. He had long + known Stipan Lanovitch of Thors as one of the many who go about the world + doing good with their eyes shut. For the moment he had absolutely no use + for this well-meaning blunderer. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” he said, “that it has got beyond control. + We cannot stamp it out now except by force, and I would rather not do + that. Our only hope is that it may burn itself out. The talkers must get + hoarse in time.” + </p> + <p> + Lanovitch shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “They have been talking since the days of Ananias,” he said, + “and they are not hoarse yet. I fear, Pavlo, there will never be + peace in the world until the talkers are hoarse.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you get here?” asked Paul, who was always + businesslike. + </p> + <p> + “I brought a pack on my back and sold cotton. I made myself known to + the starosta, and he communicated with good Karl here.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you learn any thing in the village?” asked Paul. + </p> + <p> + “No; they suspected me. They would not talk. But I understand them, + Pavlo, these poor simple fools. A pebble in the stream would turn the + current of their convictions. Tell them who is the Moscow doctor. It is + your only chance.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz grunted acquiescence and walked wearily to the window. This was + only an old and futile argument of his own. + </p> + <p> + “And make it impossible for me to live another day among them,” + said Paul. “Do you think St. Petersburg would countenance a prince + who works among his moujiks?” + </p> + <p> + Stipan Lanovitch’s pale blue eyes looked troubled. Steinmetz + shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “They have brought it on themselves,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “As much as a lamb brings the knife upon itself by growing up,” + replied Paul. + </p> + <p> + Lanovitch shook his white head with a tolerant little smile. He loved + these poor helpless peasants with a love as large as and a thousand times + less practical than Paul’s. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime Paul was thinking in his clear, direct way. It was this + man’s habit in life and in thought to walk straight past the side + issues. + </p> + <p> + “It is like you, Stipan,” he said at length, “to come to + us at this time. We feel it, and we recognize the generosity of it, for + Steinmetz and I know the danger you are running in coming back to this + country. But we cannot let you do it—No, do not protest. It is quite + out of the question. We might quell the revolt; no doubt we should—the + two of us together. But what would happen afterward? You would be sent + back to Siberia, and I should probably follow you for harboring an escaped + convict.” + </p> + <p> + The face of the impulsive philanthropist dropped pathetically. He had come + to his friend’s assistance on the spur of the moment. He was + destined, as some men are, to plunge about the world seeking to do good. + And it has been decreed that good must be done by stealth and after + deliberation only. He who does good on the spur of the moment usually sows + a seed of dissension in the trench of time. + </p> + <p> + “Also,” went on Paul, with that deliberate grasp of the + situation which never failed to astonish the ready-witted Steinmetz; + “also, you have other calls upon your energy. You have other work to + do.” + </p> + <p> + Lanovitch’s broad face lightened up; his benevolent brow beamed. His + capacity for work had brought him to the shoemaker’s last in Tomsk. + It is a vice that grows with indulgence. + </p> + <p> + “It has pleased the Authorities,” went on Paul, who was shy of + religious turns of phrase, “to give us all our own troubles. Mine—such + as they are, Stipan—must be managed by myself. Yours can be faced by + no one but you. You have come at the right moment. You do not quite + realize what your coming means to Catrina.” + </p> + <p> + “Catrina! Ah!” + </p> + <p> + The weak blue eyes looked into the strong face and read nothing there. + </p> + <p> + “I doubt,” said Paul, “whether it is right for you to + continue sacrificing Catrina for the sake of the little good that you are + able to do. You are hampered in your good work to such an extent that the + result is very small, while the pain you give is very great.” + </p> + <p> + “But is that so, Pavlo? Is my child unhappy?” + </p> + <p> + “I fear so,” replied Paul gravely, with his baffling + self-restraint. “She has not much in common with her mother, you + understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes!” + </p> + <p> + “It is you to whom she is attached. Sometimes it is so with children + and parents. One cannot tell why.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz looked as if he could supply information upon the subject: but + he remained silent, standing, as it were, in an acquiescent attitude. + </p> + <p> + “You have fought your fight,” said Paul. “A good fight, + too. You have struck your blow for the country. You have sown your seed, + but the harvest is not yet. Now it is time to think of your own safety, of + the happiness of your own child.” + </p> + <p> + Stipan Lanovitch turned away and sat heavily down. He leaned his two arms + on the table, and his chin upon his clenched hands. + </p> + <p> + “Why not leave the country now; at all events for a few years?” + went on Paul, and when a man who is accustomed to command stoops to + persuade, it is strong persuasion that he wields. “You can take + Catrina with you. You will be assuring her happiness, which, at all + events, is something tangible—a present harvest! I will drive over + to Thors now and bring her back. You can leave to-night and go to America.” + </p> + <p> + Stipan Lanovitch raised his head and looked hard into Paul’s face. + </p> + <p> + “You wish it?” + </p> + <p> + “I think,” answered Paul steadily, “that it is for + Catrina’s happiness.” + </p> + <p> + Then Lanovitch rose up and took Paul’s hand in his work-stained + grip. + </p> + <p> + “Go, my son! It will be a great happiness to me. I will wait here,” + he said. + </p> + <p> + Paul went straight to the door. He was a man with a capacity for prompt + action, which seemed to rise to demand. Steinmetz followed him out into + the passage and took him by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “You cannot do it,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I can,” replied Paul. “I can find my way through + the forest. No one will venture to follow me there in the dark.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz hesitated, shrugged his shoulders, and went back into the room. + </p> + <p> + The ladies at Thors were dressed for dinner—were, indeed, awaiting + the announcement of that meal—when Paul broke in upon their + solitude. He did not pause to lay aside his furs, but went into the long, + low room, withdrawing his seal gloves painfully, for it was freezing as it + only can freeze in March. + </p> + <p> + The countess assailed him with many questions, more or less sensible, + which he endured patiently until the servant had left the room. Catrina, + with flushed cheeks, stood looking at him, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + Paul withdrew his gloves and submitted to the countess’ futile tugs + at his fur coat. Then Catrina spoke. + </p> + <p> + “The Baron de Chauxville has left us,” she said, without + knowing exactly why. + </p> + <p> + For the moment Paul had forgotten Claude de Chauxville’s existence. + </p> + <p> + “I have news for you,” he said; and he gently pushed the + chattering countess aside. “Stipan Lanovitch is at Osterno. He + arrived to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, they have set him free, poor man! Does he wear chains on his + ankles—is his hair long? My poor Stipan! Ah, but what a stupid man!” + </p> + <p> + The countess collapsed into a soft chair. She chose a soft one, obviously. + It has to be recorded here that she did not receive the news with + unmitigated joy. + </p> + <p> + “When he was in Siberia,” she gasped, “one knew at all + events where he was; and now, mon Dieu! what an anxiety!” + </p> + <p> + “I have come over to see whether you will join him to-night and go + with him to America,” said Paul, looking at her. + </p> + <p> + “To—America—to-night! My dear Paul, are you mad? One + cannot do such things as that. America! that is across the sea.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Paul. + </p> + <p> + “And I am such a bad sailor. Now, if it had been Paris——” + </p> + <p> + “But it cannot be,” interrupted Paul. “Will you join + your father to-night?” he added, turning to Catrina. + </p> + <p> + The girl was looking at him with something in her eyes that he did not + care to meet. + </p> + <p> + “And go to America?” she asked, in a lifeless voice. + </p> + <p> + Paul nodded. + </p> + <p> + Catrina turned suddenly away from him and walked to the fire, where she + stood with her back toward him—a small, uncouth figure in black and + green, the lamplight gleaming on her wonderful hair. She turned suddenly + again, and, coming back, stood looking into his face. + </p> + <p> + “I will go,” she said. “You think it best?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered; “I think it best.” + </p> + <p> + She drew a sharp breath and was about to speak when the countess + interrupted her. + </p> + <p> + “What!” she cried. “You are going away to-night like + this, without any luggage! And pray what is to become of me?” + </p> + <p> + “You can join them in America,” said Paul, in his quietest + tone. “Or you can live in Paris, at last.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLI — DUTY + </h2> + <p> + It was not now a very cold night. There were fleecy clouds thrown like + puffs of smoke against the western sky. The moon, on the wane,—a + small crescent lying on its back,—was lowering toward the horizon. + The thermometer had risen since sunset, as it often does in March. There + was a suggestion of spring in the air. It seemed that at last the long + winter was drawing to a close; that the iron grip of frost was relaxing. + </p> + <p> + Paul went out and inspected the harness by the light of a stable lantern + held in the mittened hand of a yemschick. He had reasons of his own for + absenting himself while Catrina bade her mother farewell. He was rather + afraid of these women. + </p> + <p> + The harness inspected, he began reckoning how many hours of moonlight + might still be vouchsafed to him. The stableman, seeing the direction of + his gaze, began to talk of the weather and the possibilities of snow in + the near future. They conversed in low voices together. + </p> + <p> + Presently the door opened and Catrina came quickly out, followed by a + servant carrying a small hand-bag. + </p> + <p> + Paul could not see Catrina’s face. She was veiled and furred to the + eyelids. Without a word the girl took her seat in the sleigh, and the + servant prepared the bear-skin rugs. Paul gathered up the reins and took + his place beside her. A few moments were required to draw up the rugs and + fasten them with straps; then Paul gave the word and the horses leaped + forward. + </p> + <p> + As they sped down the avenue Catrina turned and looked her last on Thors. + </p> + <p> + Before long Paul wheeled into the trackless forest. He had come very + carefully, steering chiefly by the moon and stars, with occasional + assistance from a bend of the winding river. At times he had taken to the + ice, following the course of the stream for a few miles. No snow had + fallen; it would be easy to return on his own track. Through this part of + the forest no road was cut. + </p> + <p> + For nearly half an hour they drove in silence. Only the whistle of the + iron-bound runners on the powdery snow, the creak of the warming leather + on the horses, the regular breathing of the team, broke the stillness of + the forest. Paul hoped against hope that Catrina was asleep. She sat by + his side, her arm touching his sleeve, her weight thrown against him at + such times as the sleigh bumped over a fallen tree or some inequality of + the ground. + </p> + <p> + He could not help wondering what thoughts there were behind her silence. + Steinmetz’s good-natured banter had come back to his memory, during + the last few days, in a new light. + </p> + <p> + “Paul,” said the woman at his side quite suddenly, breaking + the silence of the great forest where they had grown to life and sorrow + almost side by side. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to know how this all came about. It is not my father’s + doing. There is something quick, and practical, and wise which suggests + you and Herr Steinmetz. I suspect that you have done this—you and he—for + our happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Paul; “it was mere accident. Your father + heard of our trouble in Kiew. You know him—always impulsive and + reckless. He never thinks of the danger. He came to help us.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina smiled wanly. + </p> + <p> + “But it <i>is</i> for our happiness, is it not, Paul? You know that + it is—that is why you have done it. I have not had time yet to + realize what I am doing, all that is going to happen. But if it is your + doing, I think I shall be content to abide by the result.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not my doing,” replied Paul, who did not like her + wistful tone. “It is the outcome of circumstances. Circumstances + have been ruling us all lately. We seem to have no time to consider, but + only to do that which seems best for the moment.” + </p> + <p> + “And it is best that I should go to America with my father?” + Her voice was composed and quiet. In the dim light he could not see her + white lips; indeed, he never looked. + </p> + <p> + “It seems so to me, undoubtedly,” he said. “In doing + this, so far as we can see at present, it seems certain that you are + saving your father from Siberia. You know what he is; he never thinks of + his own safety. He ought never to have come here to-night. If he remains + in Russia, it is an absolute certainty that he will sooner or later be + rearrested. He is one of those good people who require saving from + themselves.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina nodded. At times duty is the kedge-anchor of happiness. The girl + was dimly aware that she was holding to this. She was simple and + unsophisticated enough to consider Paul’s opinion infallible. At the + great cross-roads of life we are apt to ask the way of any body who + happens to be near. Catrina might perhaps have made a worse choice of + counsel, for Paul was honest. + </p> + <p> + “As you put it,” she said, “it is clearly my duty. There + is a sort of consolation in that, however painful it may be at the time. I + suppose it is consolatory to look back and think that at all events one + did one’s duty.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” answered Paul simply; “I suppose + so.” + </p> + <p> + Looking back was not included in his method of life, which was rather + characterized by a large faith and a forward pressure. Whenever there was + question of considering life as an abstract, he drew within his shell with + a manlike shyness. He had no generalities ready for each emergency. + </p> + <p> + “Would father have gone alone?” she asked, with a very human + thrill of hope in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Paul steadily, “I think not. But you can + ask him.” + </p> + <p> + They had never been so distant as they were at this moment—so cold, + such mere acquaintances. And they had played together in one nursery. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, if that is the case,” said the girl, “my + duty is quite clear.” + </p> + <p> + “It required some persuasion to make him consent to go, even with + you,” said Paul. + </p> + <p> + A rough piece of going—for there was no road—debarred further + conversation at this time. The sleigh rolled and bumped over one fallen + tree after another. Paul, with his feet stretched out, wedged firmly into + the sleigh, encouraged the tired horses with rein and voice. Catrina was + compelled to steady herself with both hands on the bar of the apron; for + the apron of a Russian sleigh is a heavy piece of leather stretched on a + wooden bar. + </p> + <p> + “Then you think my duty is quite clear?” repeated the girl at + length. + </p> + <p> + Paul did not answer at once. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of it,” he said. + </p> + <p> + And there the question ended. Catrina Lanovitch, who had never been ruled + by those about her, shaped her whole life unquestioningly upon an opinion. + </p> + <p> + They did not speak for some time, and then it was the girl who broke the + silence. + </p> + <p> + “I have a confession to make and a favor to ask,” she said + bluntly. + </p> + <p> + Paul’s attitude denoted attention, but he said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “It is about the Baron de Chauxville,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “I am a coward,” she went on. “I did not know it before. + It is rather humiliating. I have been trying for some weeks to tell you + something, but I am horribly afraid of it. I am afraid you will despise + me. I have been a fool—worse, perhaps. I never knew that Claude de + Chauxville was the sort of person he is. I allowed him to find out things + about me which he never should have known—my own private affairs, I + mean. Then I became frightened, and he tried to make use of me. I think he + makes use of every-body. <i>You</i> know what he is.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Paul, “I know.” + </p> + <p> + “He hates you,” she went on. “I do not want to make + mischief, but I suppose he wanted to marry the princess. His vanity was + wounded because she preferred you, and he wanted to be avenged upon you. + Wounds to the vanity never heal. I do not know how he did it, Paul, but he + made me help him in his schemes. I could have prevented you from going to + the bear hunt, for I suspected him then. I could have prevented my mother + from inviting him to Thors. I could have put a thousand difficulties in + his way, but I did not. I helped him. I told him about the people and who + were the worst—who had been influenced by the Nihilists and who + would not work. I allowed him to stay on here and carry out his plan. All + this trouble among the peasants is his handiwork. He has organized a + regular rising against you. He is horribly clever. He left us yesterday, + but I am convinced that he is in the neighborhood still.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped and reflected. There was something wanting in the story, which + she could not supply. It was a motive. A half-confession is almost an + impossibility. When we speak of ourselves it must be all or nothing—preferably, + nothing. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know why I did it,” she said. “It was a sort + of period I went through. I cannot explain.” + </p> + <p> + He did not ask her to do so. They were singularly like brother and sister + in their mental attitude. They had driven through twenty miles of forest + which belonged to one or other of them. Each was touched by the + intangible, inexplicable dignity that belongs to the possession of great + lands—to the inheritance of a great name. + </p> + <p> + “That is the confession,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He gave a little laugh. + </p> + <p> + “If none of us had worse than that upon our consciences,” he + answered, “there would be little harm in the world, De Chauxville’s + schemes have only hurried on a crisis which was foreordained. The progress + of humanity cannot be stayed. They have tried to stay it in this country. + They will go on trying until the crash comes. What is the favor you have + to ask?” + </p> + <p> + “You must leave Osterno,” she urged earnestly; “it is + unsafe to delay even a few hours. M. de Chauxville said there would be no + danger. I believed him then, but I do not now. Besides, I know the + peasants. They are hard to rouse, but once excited they are + uncontrollable. They are afraid of nothing. You must get away to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Paul made no answer. + </p> + <p> + She turned slowly in her seat and looked into his face by the light of the + waning moon. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that you will not go?” + </p> + <p> + He met her glance with his grave, slow smile. + </p> + <p> + “There is no question of going,” he answered. “You must + know that.” + </p> + <p> + She did not attempt to persuade. Perhaps there was something in his voice + which she as a Russian understood—a ring of that which we call + pig-headedness in others. + </p> + <p> + “It must be splendid to be a man,” she said suddenly, in a + ringing voice. “One feeling in me made me ask you the favor, while + another was a sense of gladness at your certain refusal. I wish I was a + man. I envy you. You do not know how I envy you, Paul.” + </p> + <p> + Paul gave a quiet laugh—such a laugh as one hears in the trenches + after the low hum of a passing ball. + </p> + <p> + “If it is danger you want, you will have more than I in the next + week,” he answered. “Steinmetz and I knew that you were the + only woman in Russia who could get your father safely out of the country. + That is why I came for you.” + </p> + <p> + The girl did not answer at once. They were driving on the road again now, + and the sleigh was running smoothly. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” she said reflectively at length, “that the + secret of the enormous influence you exercise over all who come in contact + with you is that you drag the best out of every one—the best that is + in them.” + </p> + <p> + Paul did not answer. + </p> + <p> + “What is that light?” she asked suddenly, laying her hand on + the thick fur of his sleeve. She was not nervous, but very watchful. + “There—straight in front.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the sleigh,” replied Paul, “with your father and + Steinmetz. I arranged that they should meet us at the cross-roads. You + must be at the Volga before daylight. Send the horses on to Tver. I have + given you Minna and The Warrior; they can do the journey with one hour’s + rest, but you must drive them.” + </p> + <p> + Catrina had swayed forward against the bar of the apron in a strange way, + for the road was quite smooth. She placed her gloved hands on the bar and + held herself upright with a peculiar effort. + </p> + <p> + “What?” said Paul. For she had made an inarticulate sound. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” she answered. Then, after a pause, “I did not + know that we were to go so soon. That was all.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLII — THE STORM BURSTS + </h2> + <p> + The large drawing-room was brilliantly lighted. Another weary day had + dragged to its close. It was the Tuesday evening—the last Tuesday in + March five years ago. The starosta had not been near the castle all day. + Steinmetz and Paul had never lost sight of the ladies since breakfast + time. They had not ventured out of doors. There was in the atmosphere a + sense of foreboding—the stillness of a crisis. Etta had been defiant + and silent—a dangerous humor—all day. Maggie had watched Paul’s + face with steadfast, quiet eyes full of courage, but she knew now that + there was danger. + </p> + <p> + The conversation at breakfast and luncheon had been maintained by + Steinmetz—always collected and a little humorous. It was now dinner + time. The whole castle was brilliantly lighted, as if for a great assembly + of guests. During the last week a fuller state—a greater ceremony—had + been observed by Paul’s orders, and Steinmetz had thought more than + once of that historical event which appealed to his admiration most—the + Indian Mutiny. + </p> + <p> + Maggie was in the drawing-room alone. She was leaning one hand and arm on + the mantel-piece, looking thoughtfully into the fire. The rustle of silk + made her turn her head. It was Etta, beautifully dressed, with a white + face and eyes dull with suspense. + </p> + <p> + “I think it is warmer to-night,” said Maggie, urged by a + sudden necessity of speech, hampered by a sudden chill at the heart. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Etta. And she shivered. + </p> + <p> + For a moment there was a little silence and Etta looked at the clock. It + was ten minutes to seven. + </p> + <p> + A high wind was blowing, the first of the equinoctial gales heralding the + spring. The sound of the wind in the great chimney was like the moaning of + high rigging at sea. + </p> + <p> + The door opened and Steinmetz came in. Etta’s face hardened, her + lips closed with a snap. Steinmetz looked at her and at Maggie. For once + he seemed to have no pleasantry ready for use. He walked toward a table + where some books and newspapers lay in pleasant profusion. He was standing + there when Paul came into the room. The prince glanced at Maggie. He saw + where his wife stood, but he did not look at her. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz was writing something on half a sheet of notepaper, in pencil. + He pushed it across the table toward Paul, who drew it nearer to him. + </p> + <p> + “Are you armed?” were the written words. + </p> + <p> + Paul crushed the paper in the hollow of his hand and threw it into the + fire, where it burned away. He also glanced at the clock. It was five + minutes to seven. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the door was thrown open and a manservant rushed in—pale, + confused, terror-stricken. He was a giant footman in the gorgeous livery + of the Alexis. + </p> + <p> + “Excellency,” he stammered in Russian, “the castle is + surrounded—they will kill us—they will burn us out——” + </p> + <p> + He stopped abashed before Paul’s pointing finger and stony face. + </p> + <p> + “Leave the room!” said Paul. “You forget yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Through the open door-way to which Paul pointed peered the ashen faces of + other servants huddled together like sheep. + </p> + <p> + “Leave the room!” repeated Paul, and the man obeyed him, + walking to the door unsteadily with quivering chin. On the threshold he + paused. Paul stood pointing to the door. He had a poise of the head—some + sudden awakening of the blood that had coursed in the veins of hereditary + potentates. Maggie looked at him; she had never known him like this. She + had known the man, she had never encountered the prince. + </p> + <p> + The big clock over the castle boomed out the hour, and at the same instant + there arose a roar like the voice of the surf on a Malabar shore. There + was a crashing of glass almost in the room itself. Already Steinmetz was + drawing the curtains closer over the windows in order to prevent the light + from filtering through the interstices of the closed shutters. + </p> + <p> + “Only stones,” he said to Paul, with his grim smile; “it + might have been bullets.” + </p> + <p> + As if in corroboration of his suggestion the sharp ring of more than one + fire-arm rang out above the dull roar of many voices. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz crossed the room to where Etta was standing, white-lipped, by + the fire. Her clenched hand was gripping Maggie’s wrist. She was + half hidden behind her cousin. Maggie was looking at Paul. Etta was + obviously conscious of Steinmetz’s gaze and approach. + </p> + <p> + “I asked you before to tell me all you knew,” he said. “You + refused. Will you do it now?” + </p> + <p> + Etta met his glance for a moment, shrugged her shoulders, and turned her + back on him. Paul was standing in the open door-way with his back turned + toward them—alone. The palace had never looked so vast as it did at + that moment—brilliantly lighted, gorgeous, empty. + </p> + <p> + Through the hail of blows on the stout doors, the rattle of stones at the + windows, the prince could hear yells of execration and the wild laughter + that is bred of destruction. He turned and entered the room. His face was + gray and terrible. + </p> + <p> + “They have no chance,” he said, “of effecting an + entrance by force; the lower windows are barred. They have no ladders, + Steinmetz and I have seen to that. We have been expecting this for some + days.” + </p> + <p> + He turned toward Steinmetz as if seeking confirmation. The din was + increasing. When the German spoke he had to shout. + </p> + <p> + “We can beat them back if we like. We can shoot them down from the + windows. But”—he paused, shrugged his shoulders, and laughed—“what + will you! This prince will not shoot his father’s serfs.” + </p> + <p> + “We must leave you,” went on Paul. “We must beware of + treachery. Whatever happens, we shall not leave the house. If the worst + comes, we make our last stand in this room. Whatever happens, stay here + till we come.” + </p> + <p> + He left the room, followed by Steinmetz. There were only three doors in + the impregnable stone walls; the great entrance, a side door for use in + times of deep snow, and the small concealed entrance by which the starosta + was in the habit of reaching his masters. + </p> + <p> + For a moment the two men stood at the head of the stairs listening to the + wild commotion. They were turning to descend the state stairs when a + piercing shriek, immediately drowned by a yell of triumph, broke the + silence of the interior of the castle. There was a momentary stillness, + followed by another shriek. + </p> + <p> + “They are in!” said Steinmetz. “The side door.” + </p> + <p> + And the two men looked at each other with wide eyes full of knowledge. + </p> + <p> + As they ran to the foot of the broad staircase the tramp of scuffling + feet, the roar of angry voices, came through the passages from the back of + curtained doorways. The servants’ quarters seemed to be pandemonium. + The sounds approached. + </p> + <p> + “Half-way up!” said Paul, and they ran half-way up the broad + staircase side by side. There they stood and waited. + </p> + <p> + In a moment the baize doors were burst open, and a scuffling mass of men + and women poured into the hall—a very sewer of humanity. + </p> + <p> + A yell of execration signalized their recognition of the prince. + </p> + <p> + “They are mad!” said Steinmetz, as the crowd surged forward + toward the stairs with waving arms and the dull gleam of steel; with wild + faces turned upward, wild mouths bellowing hatred and murder. + </p> + <p> + “It is a chance—it may stop them!” said Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + His arm was outstretched steadily. A loud report, a little puff of smoke + shooting upward to the gilded ceiling, and for one brief moment the crowd + stood still, watching one of their ringleaders, who was turning and + twisting on his side half a dozen steps from the bottom. + </p> + <p> + The man writhed in silence with his hand to his breast, and the crowd + stood aghast. He held up his hand and gazed at it with a queer + stupefaction. The blood dripped from his fingers. Then his chin went up as + if some one was gripping the back of his neck. He turned over slowly and + rolled to the bottom of the stairs. + </p> + <p> + Then Paul raised his voice. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me!” he said. + </p> + <p> + But he got no farther, for some one shot at him from the background, over + the frantic heads of the others, and missed him. The bullet lodged in the + wall at the head of the stairs, in the jamb of the gorgeous door-way. It + is there to-day. + </p> + <p> + There was a yell of hatred, and an ugly charge toward the stairs; but the + sight of the two revolvers held them there—motionless for a few + moments. Those in front pushed back, while the shouters in the safe + background urged them forward by word and gesture. + </p> + <p> + Two men holding a hundred in check! But one of the two was a prince, which + makes all the difference, and will continue to make that difference, + despite halfpenny journalism, until the end of the world. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” cried Paul. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I will wait!” he shouted, in the next pause. “There + is plenty of time—when you are tired of shouting.” + </p> + <p> + Several of them proceeded to tell him what they wanted. An old story, too + stale for repetition here. Paul recognized in the din of many voices the + tinkling arguments of the professional agitator all the world over—the + cry of “Equality! Equality!” when men are obviously created + unequal. + </p> + <p> + “Look out!” said Paul; “I believe they are going to make + a rush.” + </p> + <p> + All the while the foremost men were edging toward the stairs, while the + densely packed throng at the back were struggling among themselves. In the + passages behind, some were yelling and screaming with a wild intonation + which Steinmetz recognized. He had been through the Commune. + </p> + <p> + “Those fellows at the back have been killing some one,” he + said; “I can tell by their voices. They are drunk with the sight of + blood.” + </p> + <p> + Some new orator gained the ears of the rabble at this moment, and the + ill-kempt heads swayed from side to side. + </p> + <p> + “It is useless,” he cried, “telling him what you want. + He will not give it you. Go and take it! Go and take it, little fathers; + that is the only way!” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz raised his hand and peered down into the crowd, looking for the + man of eloquence, and the voice was hushed. + </p> + <p> + At this moment, however, the yelling increased, and through the door-way + leading to the servants’ quarters came a stream of men—bloodstained, + ragged, torn. They were waving arms and implements above their heads. + </p> + <p> + “Down with the aristocrats! kill them—kill them!” they + were shrieking. + </p> + <p> + A little volley of fire-arms further excited them. But vodka is not a good + thing to shoot upon, and Paul stood untouched, waiting, as he had said, + until they were tired of shouting. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” yelled Steinmetz to him in English, “we must go. + We can make a stand at the head of the stairs, then the door-way, then——” + He shrugged his shoulders. “Then—the end,” he added, as + they moved up the stairs step by step, backward. “My very good + friend,” he went on, “at the door we must begin to shoot them + down. It is our only chance. It is, moreover, our duty toward the ladies.” + </p> + <p> + “There is one alternative,” answered Paul. + </p> + <p> + “The Moscow Doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “They may turn,” said Paul; “they are just in that + humor.” + </p> + <p> + The new-comers were the most dangerous. They were forcing their way to the + front. There was no doubt that, as soon as they could penetrate the + densely packed mob, they would charge up the stairs, even in face of a + heavy fire. The reek of vodka was borne up in the heated atmosphere, + mingled with the nauseating odor of filthy clothing. + </p> + <p> + “Go,” said Steinmetz, “and put on your doctor’s + clothes. I can keep them back for a few minutes.” + </p> + <p> + There was no time to be lost. Paul slipped away, leaving Steinmetz alone + at the summit of the state stairway, standing grimly, revolver in hand. + </p> + <p> + In the drawing-room Paul found Maggie, alone. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Etta?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “She left the room some time ago.” + </p> + <p> + “But I told her to stay,” said Paul. + </p> + <p> + To this Maggie made no answer. She was looking at him with an anxious + scrutiny. + </p> + <p> + “Did they shoot at you?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but not straight,” he answered, with a little laugh, as + he hurried on. + </p> + <p> + In a few moments he was back in the drawing-room, a different man, in the + rough, stained clothes of the Moscow Doctor. The din on the stairs was + louder. Steinmetz was almost in the door-way. He was shooting + economically, picking his men. + </p> + <p> + With an effort Paul dragged one or two heavy pieces of furniture across + the room, in the form of a rough barricade. He pointed to the hearthrug + where Maggie was to stand. + </p> + <p> + “Ready!” he shouted to Steinmetz. “Come!” + </p> + <p> + The German ran in, and Paul closed the barricade. + </p> + <p> + The rabble poured in at the open door, screaming and shouting. + Bloodstained, ragged, wild with the madness of murder, they crowded to the + barricade. There they stopped, gazing stupidly at Paul. + </p> + <p> + “The Moscow Doctor—the Moscow Doctor!” passed from lip + to lip. It was the women who shouted it the loudest. Like the wind through + a forest it swept out of the room and down the stairs. Those crowding up + pushed on and uttered the words as they came. The room was packed with + them. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” shouted Steinmetz, at the top of his great voice, + “and the prince!” + </p> + <p> + He knew the note to strike, and struck with a sure hand. The barricade was + torn aside, and the people swept forward, falling on their knees, + grovelling at Paul’s feet, kissing the hem of his garment, seizing + his strong hands in theirs. + </p> + <p> + It was a mighty harvest. That which is sown in the people’s hearts + bears a thousandfold at last. + </p> + <p> + “Get them out of the place—open the big doors,” said + Paul to Steinmetz. He stood cold and grave among them. + </p> + <p> + Some of them were already sneaking toward the door—the ringleaders, + the talkers from the towns—mindful of their own necks in this change + of feeling. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz hustled them out, bidding them take their dead with them. Some + of the servants reappeared, peeping, white-faced, behind curtains. When + the last villager had crossed the threshold, these ran forward to close + and bar the great doors. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Paul, from the head of the stairs, “leave + them open.” + </p> + <p> + So the great doors stood defiantly open. The lights of the state staircase + flared out over the village as the peasants crept crest-fallen to their + cottages. They glanced up shamefacedly, but they had no word to say. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz, in the drawing-room, looked at Paul with his resigned + semi-humorous shrug of the shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Touch-and-go, mein lieber!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; an end of Russia for us,” answered the prince. + </p> + <p> + He moved toward the door leading through to the old castle. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to look for Etta,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “And I,” said Steinmetz, going to the other entrance, “am + going to see who opened the side door.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIII — BEHIND THE VEIL + </h2> + <p> + “Will you come with me?” said Paul to Maggie. “I will + send the servants to put this room to rights.” + </p> + <p> + Maggie followed him out of the room, and together they went through the + passages, calling Etta and looking for her. There was an air of gloom and + chilliness in the rooms of the old castle. The outline of the great + stones, dimly discernible through the wall-paper, was singularly + suggestive of a fortress thinly disguised. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” said Paul, “that Etta lost her nerve.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Maggie doubtfully; “I think it was that.” + </p> + <p> + Paul went on. He carried a lamp in one steady hand. + </p> + <p> + “We shall probably find her in one of these rooms,” he said. + “It is so easy to lose one’s self among the passages and + staircases.” + </p> + <p> + They passed on through the great smoking-room, with its hunting trophies. + The lynx, with its face of Claude de Chauxville, grinned at them darkly + from its pedestal. + </p> + <p> + Half-way down the stairs leading to the side door they met Steinmetz + coming hastily up. His face was white and drawn with horror. + </p> + <p> + “You must not go down here,” he said, in a husky voice, + barring the passage with his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Go up again!” said Steinmetz breathlessly. “You must + not go down here.” + </p> + <p> + Paul laid his hand on the broad arm stretched across the stairway. For a + moment it almost appeared to be a physical struggle, then Steinmetz + stepped aside. + </p> + <p> + “I beg of you,” he said, “not to go down.” + </p> + <p> + And Paul went on, followed by Steinmetz, and behind them, Maggie. At the + foot of the stairs a broader passage led to the side door, and from this + other passages opened into the servants’ quarters, and communicated + through the kitchens with the modern building. + </p> + <p> + It was evident that the door leading to the grassy slope at the back of + the castle was open, for a cold wind blew up the stairs and made the lamps + flicker. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the passage Paul stopped. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz was a little behind him, holding Maggie back. + </p> + <p> + The two lamps lighted up the passage and showed the white form of the + Princess Etta lying huddled up against the wall. The face was hidden, but + there was no mistaking the beautiful dress and hair. It could only be + Etta. Paul stooped down and looked at her, but he did not touch her. He + went a few paces forward and closed the door. Beyond Etta a black form lay + across the passage, all trodden underfoot and dishevelled. Paul held the + lamp down, and through the mud and blood Claude de Chauxville’s + clear-cut features were outlined. + </p> + <p> + Death is always unmistakable, though it be shown by nothing more than a + heap of muddy clothes. + </p> + <p> + Claude de Chauxville was lying across the passage. He had been trodden + underfoot by the stream of maddened peasants who had entered by this door + which had been opened for them, whom Steinmetz had checked at the foot of + the stairs by shooting their ringleader. + </p> + <p> + De Chauxville’s scalp was torn away by a blow, probably given with a + spade or some blunt instrument. His hand, all muddy and bloodstained, + still held a revolver. + </p> + <p> + The other hand was stretched out toward Etta, who lay across his feet, + crouching against the wall. Death had found and left her in an attitude of + fear, shielding her bowed head from a blow with her upraised hands. Her + loosened hair fell in a long wave of gold down to the bloodstained hand + outstretched toward her. She was kneeling in De Chauxville’s blood, + which stained the stone floor of the passage. + </p> + <p> + Paul leaned forward and laid his fingers on the bare arm, just below a + bracelet which gleamed in the lamplight. She was quite dead. He held a + lamp close to her. There was no mark or scratch upon her arm or shoulder. + The blow which had torn her hair down had killed her without any + disfigurement. The silken skirt of her dress, which lay across the + passage, was trampled and stained by the tread of a hundred feet. + </p> + <p> + Then Paul went to Claude de Chauxville. He stooped down and slipped his + skilled fingers inside the torn and mud-stained clothing. Here also was + death. + </p> + <p> + Paul stood upright and looked at them as they lay, silent, motionless, + with their tale untold. Maggie and Steinmetz stood watching him. He went + to the door, which was of solid oak four inches thick, and examined the + fastenings. There had been no damage done to bolt, or lock, or hinge. The + door had been opened from the inside. He looked slowly round, measuring + the distances. + </p> + <p> + “What is the meaning of it?” he said at length to Steinmetz, + in a dull voice. Maggie winced at the sound of it. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz did not answer at once, but hesitated—after the manner of + a man weighing words which will never be forgotten by their hearers. + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me,” he said, with a slow, wise charity, the best + of its kind, “quite clear that De Chauxville died in trying to save + her—the rest must be only guesswork.” + </p> + <p> + Maggie had come forward and was standing beside him. + </p> + <p> + “And in guessing let us be charitable—is it not so?” he + said, turning to her, with a twist of his humorous lips. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” he went on, after a little pause, “that + Claude de Chauxville has been at the bottom of all our trouble. All his + life he has been one of the stormy petrels of diplomacy. Wherever he has + gone trouble has followed later. By some means he obtained sufficient + mastery over the princess to compel her to obey his orders. The means he + employed were threats. He had it in his power to make mischief, and in + such affairs a woman is so helpless that we may well forgive that which + she may do in a moment of panic. I imagine that he frightened the poor + lady into obedience to his command that she should open this door. Before + dinner, when we were all in the drawing-room, I noted a little mark of + dust on the white silk skirt of her dress. At the time I thought only that + her maid had been careless. Perhaps you noticed it, mademoiselle? Ladies + note such things.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to Maggie, who nodded her head. + </p> + <p> + “That,” he went on, “was the dust of these old passages. + She had been down here. She had opened this door.” + </p> + <p> + He spread out his hands in deprecation. In his quaint Germanic way he held + one hand out over the two motionless forms in mute prayer that they might + be forgiven. + </p> + <p> + “We all have our faults,” he said. “Who are we to judge + each other? If we understood all, we might pardon. The two strongest human + motives are ambition and fear. She was ruled by both. I myself have seen + her under the influence of sudden panic. I have noted the working of her + great ambition. She was probably deceived at every turn by that man, who + was a scoundrel. He is dead, and death is understood to wipe out all + debts. If I were a better man than I am, I might speak well of him. But—ach + Gott! that man was a scoundrel! I think the good God will judge between + them and forgive that poor woman. She must have repented of her action + when she heard the clatter of the rioters all round the castle. I am sure + she did that. I am sure she came down here to shut the door, and found + Claude de Chauxville here. They were probably talking together when the + poor mad fools who killed them came round to this side of the castle and + found them. They recognized her as the princess. They probably mistook him + for the prince. It is what men call a series of coincidences. I wonder + what God calls it?” + </p> + <p> + He broke off, and, stooping down, he drew the lapel of the Frenchman’s + cloak gently over the marred face. + </p> + <p> + “And let us remember,” he said, “that he tried to save + her. Some lives are so. At the very end a little reparation is made. In + life he was her evil genius. When he died they trampled him underfoot in + order to reach her. Mademoiselle, will you come?” + </p> + <p> + He took Maggie by the arm and led her gently away. She was shaking all + over, but his hand was steady and wholly kind. + </p> + <p> + He led her up the narrow stairs to her own room. In the little boudoir the + fire was burning brightly; the lamps were lighted, just as the maid had + left them at the first alarm. + </p> + <p> + Maggie sat down, and quite suddenly she burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz did not leave her. He stood beside her, gently stroking her + shoulder with his stout fingers. He said nothing, but the gray mustache + only half concealed his lips, which were twisted with a little smile full + of tenderness and sympathy. + </p> + <p> + Maggie was the first to speak. + </p> + <p> + “I am all right now,” she said. “Please do not wait any + longer, and do not think me a very weak-minded person. Poor Etta!” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz moved away toward the door. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said; “poor Etta! It is often those who get on + in the world who need the world’s pity most.” + </p> + <p> + At the door he stopped. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow,” he said, “I will take you home to England. + Is that agreeable to you, mademoiselle?” + </p> + <p> + She smiled at him sadly through her tears. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I should like that,” she said. “This country is + horrible. You are very kind to me.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz went down stairs and found Paul at the door talking to a young + officer, who slowly dismounted and lounged into the hall, conscious of his + brilliant uniform—of his own physical capacity to show off any + uniform to full advantage. + </p> + <p> + He was a lieutenant in a Cossack regiment, and as he bowed to Steinmetz, + whom Paul introduced, he swung off his high astrakhan cap with a flourish, + showing a fair boyish face. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he continued to Paul in English; “the general + sent me over with a sotnia of men, and pretty hungry you will find them. + We have covered the whole distance since daybreak. A report reached the + old gentleman that the whole countryside was about to rise against you.” + </p> + <p> + “Who spread the report?” asked Steinmetz. + </p> + <p> + “I believe it originated down at the wharfs. It has been traced to + an old man and his daughter,—a sort of pedler, I think, who took a + passage down the river,—but where they heard the rumor I don’t + know.” + </p> + <p> + Paul and Steinmetz carefully avoided looking at each other. They knew that + Catrina and Stipan Lanovitch had sent back assistance. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Paul, “I am very glad to see you, but + I am equally glad to inform you that you are not wanted. Steinmetz will + tell you all about it, and when you are ready for dinner it will be ready + for you. I will give instructions that the men be cared for.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks. The funny thing is that I am instructed, with your + approval, to put the place under martial law and take charge.” + </p> + <p> + “That will not be necessary, thanks,” answered Paul, going out + of the open door to speak to the wild-looking Cossacks sent for his + protection. + </p> + <p> + In Russia, as in other countries where life is cheaply held, the death + formalities are small. It is only in England, where we are so careful for + the individual and so careless of the type, that we have to pay for dying, + and leave a mass of red-tape formalities for our friends. + </p> + <p> + While the young officer was changing his uniform for the evening finery + which his servant’s forethought had provided, Paul and Steinmetz + hurriedly arranged what story of the evening should be given to the world. + Knowing the country as they did, they were enabled to tell a true tale, + which was yet devoid of that small personal interest that gossips love. + And all the world ever knew was that the Princess Howard Alexis was killed + by the revolted peasants while attempting to escape by a side door, and + that the Baron Claude de Chauxville, who was staying in the neighborhood, + met his death in attempting to save her from the fury of the mob. + </p> + <p> + On the recommendation of Karl Steinmetz, Paul placed the castle and + village under martial law, and there and then gave the command to the + young Cossack officer, pending further instructions from his general, + commanding at Tver. + </p> + <p> + The officer dined with Steinmetz, and under the careful treatment of that + diplomatist inaugurated a reign of military autocracy, which varied + pleasingly between strict discipline and boyish neglect. + </p> + <p> + Before the master of the situation had slept off the effect of his + hundred-mile ride and a heavy dinner, the next morning Steinmetz and + Maggie were ready to start on their journey to England. + </p> + <p> + The breakfast was served in the room abutting on the cliff in the dim + light of a misty morning. + </p> + <p> + The lamps were alight on the table, and Paul was waiting when Maggie came + down cloaked for her journey. Steinmetz had breakfasted. + </p> + <p> + They said good-morning, and managed to talk of ordinary things until + Maggie was supplied with coffee and toast and a somewhat heavy, manly + helping of a breakfast-dish. Then came a silence. + </p> + <p> + Paul broke it at length with an effort, standing, as it were, on the edge + of the forbidden topic. + </p> + <p> + “Steinmetz will take you all the way,” he said, “and + then come back to me. You can safely trust yourself to his care.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered the girl, looking at the food set before her + with a helpless stare. “It is not that. Can I safely trust Etta’s + memory to your judgment? You are very stern, Paul. I think you might + easily misjudge her. Men do not always understand a woman’s + temptations.” + </p> + <p> + Paul had not sat down. He walked away to the window, and stood there + looking out into the gloomy mists. + </p> + <p> + “It is not because she was my cousin,” said Maggie from the + table; “it is because she was a woman leaving her memory to be + judged by two men who are both—hard.” + </p> + <p> + Paul neither looked round nor answered. + </p> + <p> + “When a woman has to form her own life, and renders it a prominent + one, she usually makes a huge mistake of it,” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + She waited a moment, and then she pleaded once more, hastily, for she + heard a step approaching. + </p> + <p> + “If you only understood every thing you might think differently—it + is because you cannot understand.” + </p> + <p> + Then Paul turned round slowly. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “I cannot understand it, and I do not + think that I ever shall.” + </p> + <p> + And Steinmetz came into the room. + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes the sleigh bearing Steinmetz and Maggie disappeared into + the gloom, closely followed by a couple of Cossacks acting as guard and + carrying despatches. + </p> + <p> + So Etta Sydney Bamborough—the Princess Howard Alexis—came back + after all to her husband, lying in a nameless grave in the churchyard by + the Volga at Tver. Within the white walls—beneath the shadow of the + great spangled cupola—they await the Verdict, almost side by side. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIV — KISMET + </h2> + <p> + Between Brandon in Suffolk and Thetford in Norfolk runs a quiet river, the + Little Ouse, where few boats break the stillness of the water. On either + bank stand whispering beech-trees, and so low is the music of the leaves + that the message of Ely’s distant bells floats through them on a + quiet evening as far as Brandon and beyond it. + </p> + <p> + Three years after Etta’s death, in the glow of an April sunset, a + Canadian canoe was making its stealthy way up the river. The paddle crept + in and out so gently, so lazily and peacefully, that the dabchicks and + other waterfowl did not cease their chatter of nests and other April + matters as the canoe glided by. + </p> + <p> + So quiet, indeed, was its progress that Karl Steinmetz—suddenly + white-headed, as strong old men are apt to find themselves—did not + heed its approach. He was sitting on the bank with a gun, a little rifle, + lying on the grass beside him. He was half-asleep in the enjoyment of a + large Havana cigar. The rays of the setting sun, peeping through the lower + branches, made him blink lazily like a large, good-natured cat. + </p> + <p> + He turned his head slowly, with a hunter’s consciousness of the + approach of some one, and contemplated the canoe with a sense of placid + satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + The small craft was passing in the shadow of a great tree—stealing + over the dark, unruffled depth. A girl dressed in white, with a large + diaphanous white hat and a general air of brisk English daintiness, was + paddling slowly and with no great skill. + </p> + <p> + “A picture,” said Steinmetz to himself with Teutonic + deliberation. “Gott im Himmel! what a pretty picture to make an old + man young!” + </p> + <p> + Then his gray eyes opened suddenly and he rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Coloss-a-al!” he muttered. He dragged from his head a + lamentable old straw hat and swept a courteous bow. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” he said, “ah, what happiness! After + three years!” + </p> + <p> + Maggie stopped and looked at him with troubled eyes; all the color slowly + left her face. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing here?” she asked. And there was something + like fear in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “No harm, mademoiselle, but good. I have come down from big game to + vermin. I have here a saloon rifle. I wait till a water-rat comes, and + then I shoot him.” + </p> + <p> + The canoe had drifted closer to the land, the paddle trailing in the + water. + </p> + <p> + “You are looking at my white hairs,” he went on, in a sudden + need of conversation. “Please bring your boat a little nearer.” + </p> + <p> + The paddle twisted lazily in the water like a fish’s tail. + </p> + <p> + “Hold tight,” he said, reaching down. + </p> + <p> + With a little laugh he lifted the canoe and its occupant far up on to the + bank. + </p> + <p> + “Despite my white hairs,” he said, with a tap of both hands on + his broad chest. + </p> + <p> + “I attach no importance to them,” she answered, taking his + proffered hand and stepping over the light bulwark. “I have gray + ones myself. I am getting old too.” + </p> + <p> + “How old?” he asked, looking down at her with his old + bluntness. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-eight.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, they are summers,” he said; “mine have turned to + winters. Will you sit here where I was sitting? See, I will spread this + rug for your white dress.” + </p> + <p> + Maggie paused, looking through the trees toward the sinking sun. The light + fell on her face and showed one or two lines which had not been there + before. It showed a patient tenderness in the steady eyes which had always + been there—which Catrina had noticed in the stormy days that were + past. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot stay long,” she replied. “I am with the + Faneaux at Brandon for a few days. They dine at seven.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! her ladyship is a good friend of mine. You remember her charity + ball in town, when it was settled that you should come to Osterno. A + strange world, mademoiselle—a very strange world, so small, and yet + so large and bare for some of us!” + </p> + <p> + Maggie looked at him. Then she sat down. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” she said, “all that has happened since then.” + </p> + <p> + “I went back,” answered Steinmetz, “and we were duly + exiled from Russia. It was sure to come. We were too dangerous. Altogether + too quixotic for an autocracy. For myself I did not mind, but it hurt + Paul.” + </p> + <p> + There was a little pause, while the water lapped and whispered at their + feet. + </p> + <p> + “I heard,” said Maggie at length, in a measured voice, “that + he had gone abroad for big game.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—to India.” + </p> + <p> + “He did not go to America?” enquired Maggie indifferently. She + was idly throwing fragments of wood into the river. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Steinmetz, looking straight in front of him. + “No, he did not go to America.” + </p> + <p> + “And you?” + </p> + <p> + “I—oh, I stayed at home. I have taken a house. It is behind + the trees. You cannot see it. I live at peace with all men and pay my + bills every week. Sometimes Paul comes and stays with me. Sometimes I go + and stay with him in London or in Scotland. I smoke and shoot water-rats, + and watch the younger generation making the same mistakes that we made in + our time. You have heard that my country is in order again? They have + remembered me. For my sins they have made me a count. Bon Dieu! I do not + mind. They may make me a prince, if it pleases them.” + </p> + <p> + He was watching her face beneath his grim old eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “These details bore you,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “When Paul and I are together we talk of a new heaven and a new + Russia. But it will not come in our time. We are only the sowers, and the + harvest is not yet. But I tell Paul that he has not sown wild oats, nor + sour grapes, nor thistles.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and the expression of his face changed to one of semi-humorous + gravity. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” he went on, “it has been my lot to love + the prince like a son. It has been my lot to stand helplessly by while he + passed through many troubles. Perhaps the good God gave him all his + troubles at first. Do you think so?” + </p> + <p> + Maggie was looking straight in front of her across the quiet river. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz also stared in front of him during a little silence. The common + thoughts of two minds may well be drawn together by the contemplation of a + common object. Then he turned toward her. + </p> + <p> + “It will be a happiness for him to see you,” he said quietly. + </p> + <p> + Maggie ceased breaking small branches and throwing them into the river. + She ceased all movement, and scarcely seemed to breathe. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “He is staying with me here.” + </p> + <p> + Maggie glanced toward the canoe. She drew a short, sharp breath, but she + did not move. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” said Steinmetz earnestly, “I am an old + man, and in my time I have dabbled pretty deeply in trouble. But taking it + all around, even my life has had its compensations. And I have seen lives + which, taken as a mere mortal existence, without looking to the hereafter + at all, have been quite worth the living. There is much happiness in life + to make up for the rest. But that happiness must be firmly held. It is so + easily slipped through the fingers. A little irresolution—a little + want of moral courage—a little want of self-confidence—a + little pride, and it is lost. You follow me?” + </p> + <p> + Maggie nodded. There was a great tenderness in her eyes—such a + tenderness as, resting on men, may bring them nearer to the angels. + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz laid his large hand over hers. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” he went on, “I believe that the good God + sent you along this lonely river in your boat. Paul leaves me to-morrow. + His arrangements are to go to India and shoot tigers. He will sail in a + week. There are things of which we never speak together—there is one + name that is never mentioned. Since Osterno you have avoided meeting him. + God knows I am not asking for him any thing that he would be afraid to ask + for himself. But he also has his pride. He will not force himself in where + he thinks his presence unwelcome.” + </p> + <p> + Steinmetz rose somewhat ponderously and stood looking down at her. He did + not, however, succeed in meeting her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” he said, “I beg of you most humbly—most + respectfully—to come through the garden with me toward the house, so + that Paul may at least know that you are here.” + </p> + <p> + He moved away and stood for a moment with his back turned to her, looking + toward the house. The crisp rustle of her dress came to him as she rose to + her feet. + </p> + <p> + Without looking round, he walked slowly on. The path through the trees was + narrow, two could not walk abreast. After a few yards Steinmetz emerged on + to a large, sloping lawn with flower beds, and a long, low house above it. + On the covered terrace a man sat writing at a table. He was surrounded by + papers, and the pen in his large, firm hand moved rapidly over the sheet + before him. + </p> + <p> + “We still administer the estate,” said Steinmetz, in a low + voice. “From our exile we still sow our seed.” + </p> + <p> + They approached over the mossy turf, and presently Paul looked up—a + strong face, stern and self-contained; the face of a man who would always + have a purpose in life, who would never be petty in thought or deed. + </p> + <p> + For a moment he did not seem to recognize them. Then he rose, and the pen + fell on the flags of the terrace. + </p> + <p> + “It is mademoiselle!” said Steinmetz, and no other word was + spoken. + </p> + <p> + Maggie walked on in a sort of unconsciousness. She only knew that they + were all acting an inevitable part, written for them in the great libretto + of life. She never noticed that Steinmetz had left her side, that she was + walking across the lawn alone. + </p> + <p> + Paul came to meet her, and took her hand in silence. There was so much to + say that words seemed suddenly valueless; there was so little to say that + they were unnecessary. + </p> + <p> + For that which these two had to tell each other cannot be told in minutes, + nor yet in years; it cannot even be told in a lifetime, for it is endless, + and it runs through eternity. + </p> + <h3> + THE END + </h3> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sowers, by Henry Seton Merriman + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOWERS *** + +***** This file should be named 10132-h.htm or 10132-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/1/3/10132/ + +Etext produced by Juliet Sutherland, Christine Gehring and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + +HTML file produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Sowers + +Author: Henry Seton Merriman + +Release Date: November 19, 2003 [EBook #10132] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOWERS *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Christine Gehring and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + +THE SOWERS + +BY + +HENRY SETON MERRIMAN + + + +1895 + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAP. + + +I. A WAIF ON THE STEPPE + +II. BY THE VOLGA + +III. DIPLOMATIC + +IV. DON QUIXOTE + +V. THE BARON + +VI. THE TALLEYRAND CLUB + +VII. OLD HANDS + +VIII. SAFE! + +IX. THE PRINCE + +X. THE MOSCOW DOCTOR + +XI. CATRINA + +XII. AT THORS + +XIII. UNMASKED + +XIV. A WIRE-PULLER + +XV. IN A WINTER CITY + +XVI. THE THIN END + +XVII. CHARITY + +XVIII. IN THE CHAMPS ELYSEES + +XIX. ON THE NEVA + +XX. AN OFFER OF FRIENDSHIP + +XXI. A SUSPECTED HOUSE + +XXII. THE SPIDER AND THE FLY + +XXIII. A WINTER SCENE + +XXIV. HOME + +XXV. OSTERNO + +XXVI. BLOODHOUNDS + +XXVII. IN THE WEB + +XXVIII. IN THE CASTLE OF THORS + +XXIX. ANGLO-RUSSIAN + +XXX. WOLF! + +XXXI. A DANGEROUS EXPERIMENT + +XXXII. A CLOUD + +XXXIII. THE NET IS DRAWN + +XXXIV. AN APPEAL + +XXXV. ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM + +XXXVI. A TROIS + +XXXVII. A DEUX + +XXXVIII. A TALE THAT IS TOLD + +XXXIX. HUSBAND AND WIFE + +XL. STEPAN RETURNS + +XLI. DUTY + +XLII. THE STORM BURSTS + +XLIII. BEHIND THE VEIL + +XLIV. KISMET + + + +THE SOWERS + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +A WAIF ON THE STEPPE + +"In this country charity covers no sins!" + +The speaker finished his remark with a short laugh. He was a big, stout +man; his name was Karl Steinmetz, and it is a name well known in the +Government of Tver to this day. He spoke jerkily, as stout men do when +they ride, and when he had laughed his good-natured, half-cynical laugh, +he closed his lips beneath a huge gray mustache. So far as one could +judge from the action of a square and deeply indented chin, his mouth +was expressive at that time--and possibly at all times--of a humorous +resignation. No reply was vouchsafed to him, and Karl Steinmetz bumped +along on his little Cossack horse, which was stretched out at a gallop. + +Evening was drawing on. It was late in October, and a cold wind was +driving from the north-west across a plain which for sheer dismalness of +aspect may give points to Sahara and beat that abode of mental +depression without an effort. So far as the eye could reach there was no +habitation to break the line of horizon. A few stunted fir-trees, +standing in a position of permanent deprecation, with their backs +turned, as it were, to the north, stood sparsely on the plain. The grass +did not look good to eat, though the Cossack horses would no doubt have +liked to try it. The road seemed to have been drawn by some Titan +engineer with a ruler from horizon to horizon. + +Away to the south there was a forest of the same stunted pines, where a +few charcoal-burners and resin-tappers eked out a forlorn and obscure +existence. There are a score of such settlements, such gloomy forests, +dotted over this plain of Tver, which covers an area of nearly two +hundred square miles. The remainder of it is pasture, where miserable +cattle and a few horses, many sheep and countless pigs, seek their food +pessimistically from God. + +Steinmetz looked round over this cheerless prospect with a twinkle of +amused resignation in his blue eyes, as if this creation were a little +practical joke, which he, Karl Steinmetz, appreciated at its proper +worth. The whole scene was suggestive of immense distance, of countless +miles in all directions--a suggestion not conveyed by any scene in +England, by few in Europe. In our crowded island we have no conception +of a thousand miles. How can we? Few of us have travelled five hundred +at a stretch. The land through which these men were riding is the home +of great distances--Russia. They rode, moreover, as if they knew it--as +if they had ridden for days and were aware of more days in front of +them. + +The companion of Karl Steinmetz looked like an Englishman. He was young +and fair and quiet. He looked like a youthful athlete from Oxford or +Cambridge--a simple-minded person who had jumped higher or run quicker +than anybody else without conceit, taking himself, like St. Paul, as he +found himself and giving the credit elsewhere. And one finds that, after +all, in this world of deceit, we are most of us that which we look like. +You, madam, look thirty-five to a day, although your figure is still +youthful, your hair untouched by gray, your face unseamed by care. You +may look in your mirror and note these accidents with satisfaction; you +may feel young and indulge in the pastimes of youth without effort. But +you are thirty-five. We know it. We who look at you can see it for +ourselves, and, if you could only be brought to believe it, we think no +worse of you on that account. + +The man who rode beside Karl Steinmetz with gloomy eyes and a vague +suggestion of flight in his whole demeanor was, like reader and writer, +exactly what he seemed. He was the product of an English public school +and university. He was, moreover, a modern product of those seats of +athletic exercise. He had little education and highly developed +muscles--that is to say, he was no scholar but essentially a +gentleman--a good enough education in its way, and long may Britons seek +it! + +This young man's name was Paul Howard Alexis, and Fortune had made him a +Russian prince. If, however, anyone, even Steinmetz, called him prince, +he blushed and became confused. This terrible title had brooded over him +while at Eton and Cambridge. But no one had found him out; he remained +Paul Howard Alexis so far as England and his friends were concerned. In +Russia, however, he was known (by name only, for he avoided Slavonic +society) as Prince Pavlo Alexis. This plain was his; half the Government +of Tver was his; the great Volga rolled through his possessions; sixty +miles behind him a grim stone castle bore his name, and a tract of land +as vast as Yorkshire was peopled by humble-minded persons who cringed at +the mention of his Excellency. + +All this because thirty years earlier a certain Princess Natasha Alexis +had fallen in love with plain Mr. Howard of the British Embassy in St. +Petersburg. With Slavonic enthusiasm (for the Russian is the most +romantic race on earth) she informed Mr. Howard of the fact, and duly +married him. Both these persons were now dead, and Paul Howard Alexis +owed it to his mother's influence in high regions that the +responsibilities of princedom were his. At the time when this title was +accorded to him he had no say in the matter. Indeed, he had little say +in any matters except meals, which he still took in liquid form. Certain +it is, however, that he failed to appreciate his honors as soon as he +grew up to a proper comprehension of them. + +Equally certain is it that he entirely failed to recognize the +enviability of his position as he rode across the plains of Tver toward +the yellow Volga by the side of Karl Steinmetz. + +"This is great nonsense," he said suddenly. "I feel like a Nihilist or +some theatrical person of that sort. I do not think it can be necessary, +Steinmetz." + +"Not necessary," answered Steinmetz in thick guttural tones, "but +prudent." + +This man spoke with the soft consonants of a German. + +"Prudent, my dear prince." + +"Oh, drop that!" + +"When we sight the Volga I will drop it with pleasure. Good Heavens! I +wish I were a prince. I should have it marked on my linen, and sit up in +bed to read it on my nightshirt." + +"No, you wouldn't, Steinmetz," answered Alexis, with a vexed laugh. "You +would hate it just as much as I do, especially if it meant running away +from the best bear-shooting in Europe." + +Steinmetz shrugged his shoulders. + +"Then you should not have been charitable--charity, I tell you, Alexis, +covers no sins in this country." + +"Who made me charitable? Besides, no decent-minded fellow could be +anything else here. Who told me of the League of Charity, I should like +to know? Who put me into it? Who aroused my pity for these poor beggars? +Who but a stout German cynic called Steinmetz?" + +"Stout, yes--cynic, if you will--German, no!" + +The words were jerked out of him by the galloping horse. + +"Then what are you?" + +Steinmetz looked straight in front of him, with a meditation in his +quiet eyes which made a dreamy man of him. + +"That depends." + +Alexis laughed. + +"Yes, I know. In Germany you are a German, in Russia a Slav, in Poland a +Pole, and in England any thing the moment suggests." + +"Exactly so. But to return to you. You must trust to me in this matter. +I know this country. I know what this League of Charity was. It was a +bigger thing than any dream of. It was a power in Russia--the greatest +of all--above Nihilism--above the Emperor himself. Ach Gott! It was a +wonderful organization, spreading over this country like sunlight over a +field. It would have made men of our poor peasants. It was God's work. +If there is a God--bien entendu--which some young men deny, because God +fails to recognize their importance, I imagine. And now it is all done. +It is crumbled up by the scurrilous treachery of some miscreant. Ach! I +should like to have him out here on the plain. I would choke him. For +money, too! The devil--it must have been the devil--to sell that secret +to the Government!" + +"I can't see what the Government wanted it for," growled Alexis moodily. + +"No, but I can. It is not the Emperor; he is a gentleman, although he +has the misfortune to wear the purple. No, it is those about him. They +want to stop education; they want to crush the peasant. They are afraid +of being found out; they live in their grand houses, and support their +grand names on the money they crush out of the starving peasant." + +"So do I, so far as that goes." + +"Of course you do! And I am your steward--your crusher. We do not deny +it, we boast of it, but we exchange a wink with the angels--eh?" + +Alexis rode on in silence for a few moments. He sat his horse as English +foxhunters do--not prettily--and the little animal with erect head and +scraggy neck was evidently worried by the unusual grip on his ribs. For +Russians sit back, with a short stirrup and a loose seat, when they are +travelling. One must not form one's idea of Russian horsemanship from +the erect carriage affected in the Newski Prospect. + +"I wish," he said abruptly, "that I had never attempted to do any good; +doing good to mankind doesn't pay. Here I am running away from my own +home as if I were afraid of the police! The position is impossible." + +Steinmetz shook his shaggy head. + +"No. No position is impossible in this country--except the Czar's--if +one only keeps cool. For men such as you and I any position is quite +easy. But these Russians are too romantic--too exaltes--they give way to +a morbid love of martyrdom: they think they can do no good to mankind +unless they are uncomfortable." + +Alexis turned in his saddle and looked keenly into his companion's face. + +"Do you know," he said, "I believe you founded the Charity League?" + +Steinmetz laughed in his easy, stout way. + +"It founded itself," he said; "the angels founded it in heaven. I hope a +committee of them will attend to the eternal misery of the dog who +betrayed it." + +"I trust they will, but in the meantime I stick to my opinion that it is +unnecessary for me to leave the country. What have I done? I do not +belong to the League; it is composed entirely of Russian nobles; I don't +admit that I am a Russian noble." + +"But," persisted Steinmetz quietly, "you subscribe to the League. Four +hundred thousand rubles--they do not grow at the roadside." + +"But the rubles have not my name on them." + +"That may be, but we all--_they all_--know where they are likely to come +from. My dear Paul, you cannot keep up the farce any longer. You are not +an English gentleman who comes across here for sporting purposes; you do +not live in the old Castle of Osterno three months in the year because +you have a taste for mediaeval fortresses. You are a Russian prince, and +your estates are the happiest, the most enlightened in the empire. That +alone is suspicious. You collect your rents yourself. You have no German +agents--no German vampires about you. There are a thousand things +suspicious about Prince Pavlo Alexis if those that be in high places +only come to think about it. They have not come to think about +it--thanks to our care and to your English independence. But that is +only another reason why we should redouble our care. You must not be in +Russia when the Charity League is picked to pieces. There will be +trouble--half the nobility in Russia will be in it. There will be +confiscations and degradations: there will be imprisonment and Siberia +for some. You are better out of it, for you are not an Englishman; you +have not even a Foreign Office passport. Your passport is your patent of +nobility, and that is Russian. No, you are better out of it." + +"And you--what about you?" asked Paul, with a little laugh--the laugh +that one brave man gives when he sees another do a plucky thing. + +"I! Oh, I am all right! I am nobody; I am hated of all the peasants +because I am your steward and so hard--so cruel. That is my certificate +of harmlessness with those that are about the Emperor." + +Paul made no answer. He was not of an argumentative mind, being a large +man, and consequently inclined to the sins of omission rather than to +the active form of doing wrong. He had an enormous faith in Karl +Steinmetz, and, indeed, no man knew Russia better than this cosmopolitan +adventurer. Steinmetz it was who pricked forward with all speed, wearing +his hardy little horse to a drooping semblance of its former self. +Steinmetz it was who had recommended quitting the travelling carriage +and taking to the saddle, although his own bulk led him to prefer the +slower and more comfortable method of covering space. It would almost +seem that he doubted his own ascendency over his companion and master, +which semblance was further increased by a subtle ring of anxiety in his +voice while he argued. It is possible that Karl Steinmetz suspected the +late Princess Natasha of having transmitted to her son a small +hereditary portion of that Slavonic exaltation and recklessness of +consequence which he deplored. + +"Then you turn back at Tver?" enquired Paul, at length breaking a long +silence. + +"Yes; I must not leave Osterno just now. Perhaps later, when the winter +has come, I will follow. Russia is quiet during the winter, very quiet. +Ha, ha!" + +He shrugged his shoulders and shivered. But the shiver was interrupted. +He raised himself in his saddle and peered forward into the gathering +darkness. + +"What is that," he asked sharply, "on the road in front?" + +Paul had already seen it. + +"It looks like a horse," he answered--"a strayed horse, for it has no +rider." + +They were going west, and what little daylight there was lived on the +western horizon. The form of the horse, cut out in black relief against +the sky, was weird and ghostlike. It was standing by the side of the +road, apparently grazing. As they approached it, its outlines became +more defined. + +"It has a saddle," said Steinmetz at length. "What have we here?" + +The beast was evidently famishing, for, as they came near, it never +ceased its occupation of dragging the wizened tufts of grass up, root +and all. + +"What have we here?" repeated Steinmetz. + +And the two men clapped spurs to their tired horses. + +The solitary waif had a rider, but he was not in the saddle. One foot +was caught in the stirrup, and as the horse moved on from tuft to tuft +it dragged its dead master along the ground. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +BY THE VOLGA + +"This is going to be unpleasant," muttered Steinmetz, as he cumbrously +left the saddle. "That man is dead--has been dead some days; he's stiff. +And the horse has been dragging him face downward. God in heaven! this +will be unpleasant." + +Paul had leaped to the ground, and was already loosening the dead man's +foot from the stirrup. He did it with a certain sort of skill, despite +the stiffness of the heavy riding-boot, as if he had walked a hospital +in his time. Very quickly Steinmetz came to his assistance, tenderly +lifting the dead man and laying him on his back. + +"Ach!" he exclaimed; "we are unfortunate to meet a thing like this." + +There was no need of Paul Alexis' medical skill to tell that this man +was dead; a child would have known it. Before searching the pockets +Steinmetz took out his own handkerchief and laid it over a face which +had become unrecognizable. The horse was standing over them. It bent its +head and sniffed wonderingly at that which had once been its master. +There was a singular, scared look in its eyes. + +Steinmetz pushed aside the enquiring muzzle. + +"If you could speak, my friend," he said, "we might want you. As it is, +you had better continue your meal." + +Paul was unbuttoning the dead man's clothes. He inserted his hand within +the rough shirt. + +"This man," he said, "was starving. He probably fainted from sheer +exhaustion and rolled out of the saddle. It is hunger that killed him." + +"With his pocket full of money," added Steinmetz, withdrawing his hand +from the dead man's pocket and displaying a bundle of notes and some +silver. + +There was nothing in any of the other pockets--no paper, no clue of any +sort to the man's identity. + +The two finders of this silent tragedy stood up and looked around them. +It was almost dark. They were ten miles from a habitation. It does not +sound much; but a traveller would be hard put to place ten miles between +himself and a habitation in the whole of the British Islands. This, +added to a lack of road or path which is unknown to us in England, made +ten miles of some importance. + +Steinmetz had pushed his fur cap to the back of his head, which he was +scratching pensively. He had a habit of scratching his forehead with one +finger, which denoted thought. + +"Now, what are we to do?" he muttered. "Can't bury the poor chap and say +nothing about it. I wonder where his passport is? We have here a +tragedy." + +He turned to the horse, which was grazing hurriedly. + +"My friend of the four legs," he said, "it is a thousand pities that you +are dumb." + +Paul was still examining the dead man with that callousness which +denotes one who, for love or convenience, has become a doctor. He was a +doctor--an amateur. He was a Caius man. + +Steinmetz looked down at him with a little laugh. He noticed the +tenderness of the touch, the deft fingering which had something of +respect in it. Paul Alexis was visibly one of those men who take mankind +seriously, and have that in their hearts which for want of a better word +we call sympathy. + +"Mind you do not catch some infectious disease," said Steinmetz gruffly. +"I should not care to handle any stray moujik one finds dead about the +roadside; unless, of course, you think there is more money about him. It +would be a pity to leave that for the police." + +Paul did not answer. He was examining the limp, dirty hands of the dead +man. The fingers were covered with soil, the nails were broken. He had +evidently clutched at the earth and at every tuft of grass, after his +fall from the saddle. + +"Look here, at these hands," said Paul suddenly. "This is an Englishman. +You never see fingers this shape in Russia." + +Steinmetz stooped down. He held out his own square-tipped fingers in +comparison. Paul rubbed the dead hand with his sleeve as if it were a +piece of statuary. + +"Look here," he continued, "the dirt rubs off and leaves the hand quite +a gentlemanly color. This"--he paused and lifted Steinmetz's +handkerchief, dropping it again hurriedly over the mutilated face--"this +thing was once a gentleman." + +"It certainly has seen better days," admitted Steinmetz, with a grim +humor which was sometimes his. "Come, let us drag him beneath that +pine-tree and ride on to Tver. We shall do no good, my dear Alexis, +wasting our time over the possible antecedents of a gentleman who, for +reasons of his own, is silent on the subject." + +Paul rose from the ground. His movements were those of a strong and +supple man, one whose muscles had never had time to grow stiff. He was +an active man, who never hurried. Standing thus upright he was very +tall--nearly a giant. Only in St. Petersburg, of all the cities of the +world, could he expect to pass unnoticed--the city of tall men and plain +women. He rubbed his two hands together in a singularly professional +manner which sat amiss on him. + +"What do you propose doing?" he asked. "You know the laws of this +country better than I do." + +Steinmetz scratched his forehead with his forefinger. + +"Our theatrical friends the police," he said, "are going to enjoy this. +Suppose we prop him up sitting against that tree--no one will run away +with him--and lead his horse into Tver. I will give notice to the +police, but I will not do so until you are in the Petersburg train. I +will, of course, give the ispravnik to understand that your princely +mind could not be bothered by such details as this--that you have +proceeded on your journey." + +"I do not like leaving the poor beggar alone all night," said Paul. +"There may be wolves--the crows in the early morning." + +"Bah! that is because you are so soft-hearted. My dear fellow, what +business is it of ours if the universal laws of nature are illustrated +upon this unpleasant object? We all live on each other. The wolves and +the crows have the last word. Tant mieux for the wolves and the crows! +Come, let us carry him to that tree." + +The moon was just rising over the line of the horizon. All around them +the steppe lay in grim and lifeless silence. In such a scene, where life +seemed rare and precious, death gained in its power of inspiring fear. +It is different in crowded cities, where an excess of human life seems +to vouch for the continuity of the race, where, in a teeming population, +one life more or less seems of little value. The rosy hue of sunset was +fading to a clear green, and in the midst of a cloudless sky, +Jupiter--very near the earth at that time--shone intense, and brilliant +like a lamp. It was an evening such as only Russia and the great North +lands ever see, where the sunset is almost in the north and the sunrise +holds it by the hand. Over the whole scene there hung a clear, +transparent night, green and shimmering, which would never be darker +than an English twilight. + +The two living men carried the nameless, unrecognizable dead to a +resting-place beneath a stunted pine a few paces removed from the road. +They laid him decently at full length, crossing his soil-begrimed hands +over his breast, tying the handkerchief down over his face. + +Then they turned and left him, alone in that luminous night. A waif that +had fallen by the great highway without a word, without a sign. A +half-run race--a story cut off in the middle; for he was a young man +still; his hair, all dusty, draggled, and bloodstained, had no streak of +gray; his hands were smooth and youthful. There was a vague suspicion of +sensual softness about his body, as if this might have been a man who +loved comfort and ease, who had always chosen the primrose path, had +never learned the salutary lesson of self-denial. The incipient +stoutness of limb contrasted strangely with the drawn meagreness of his +body, which was contracted by want of food. Paul Alexis was right. This +man had died of starvation, within ten miles of the great Volga, within +nine miles of the outskirts of Tver, a city second to Moscow, and once +her rival. Therefore it could only be that he had purposely avoided the +dwellings of men; that he was a fugitive of some sort or another. Paul's +theory that this was an Englishman had not been received with enthusiasm +by Steinmetz; but that philosopher had stooped to inspect the narrow, +tell-tale fingers. Steinmetz, be it noted, had an infinite capacity for +holding his tongue. + +They mounted their horses and rode away without looking back. But they +did not speak, as if each were deep in his own thoughts. Material had +indeed been afforded them, for who could tell who this featureless man +might be? They were left in a state of hopeless curiosity, as who, +having picked up a page with "Finis" written upon it, falls to wondering +what the story may have been. + +Steinmetz had thrown the bridle of the straying horse over his arm, and +the animal trotted obediently by the side of the fidgety little +Cossacks. + +"That was bad luck," exclaimed the elder man at length, "d--d bad luck! +In this country the less you find, the less you see, the less you +understand, the simpler is your existence. Those Nihilists, with their +mysterious ways and their reprehensible love of explosives, have made +honest men's lives a burden to them." + +"Their motives were originally good," put in Paul. + +"That is possible; but a good motive is no excuse for a bad means. They +wanted to get along too quickly. They are pig-headed, exalted, +unpractical to a man. I do not mention the women, because when women +meddle in politics they make fools of themselves, even in England. These +Nihilists would have been all very well if they had been content to sow +for posterity. But they wanted to see the fruits of their labors in one +generation. Education does not grow like that. It requires a couple of +generations to germinate. It has to be manured by the brains of fools +before it is of any use. In England it has reached this stage; here in +Russia the sowing has only begun. Now, we were doing some good. The +Charity League was the thing. It began by training their starved bodies +to be ready for the education when it came. And very little of it would +have come in our time. If you educate a hungry man, you set a devil +loose upon the world. Fill their stomachs before you feed their brains, +or you will give them mental indigestion; and a man with mental +indigestion raises hell or cuts his own throat." + +"That is just what I want to do--fill their stomachs. I don't care about +the rest. I'm not responsible for the progress of the world or the good +of humanity," said Paul. + +He rode on in silence; then he burst out again in the curt phraseology +of a man whose feeling is stronger than he cares to admit. + +"I've got no grand ideas about the human race," he said. "A very little +contents me. A little piece of Tver, a few thousand peasants, are good +enough for me. It seems rather hard that a fellow can't give away of his +surplus money in charity if he is such a fool as to want to." + +Steinmetz was riding stubbornly along. Suddenly he gave a little +chuckle--a guttural sound expressive of a somewhat Germanic +satisfaction. + +"I don't see how they can stop us," he said. "The League, of course, is +done; it will crumble away in sheer panic. But here, in Tver, they +cannot stop us." + +He clapped his great hand on his thigh with more glee than one would +have expected him to feel; for this man posed as a cynic--a despiser of +men, a scoffer at charity. + +"They'll find it very difficult to stop me," muttered Paul Alexis. + +It was now dark--as dark as ever it would be. Steinmetz peered through +the gloom toward him with a little laugh--half tolerance, half +admiration. + +The country was here a little more broken. Long, low hills, like vast +waves, rose and fell beneath the horses' feet. Ages ago the Volga may +have been here, and, slowly narrowing, must have left these hills in +deposit. From the crest of an incline the horsemen looked down over a +vast rolling tableland, and far ahead of them a great white streak +bounded the horizon. + +"The Volga!" said Steinmetz. "We are almost there. And there, to the +right, is the Tversha. It is like a great catapult. Gott! what a +wonderful night! No wonder these Russians are romantic. What a night for +a pipe and a long chair! This horse of mine is tired. He shakes me most +abominably." + +"Like to change?" enquired Paul curtly. + +"No; it would make no difference. You are as heavy as I, although I am +wider! Ah! there are the lights of Tver." + +Ahead of them a few lights twinkled feebly, sometimes visible and then +hidden again as they rode over the rolling hillocks. One plain ever +suggests another, but the resemblance between the steppes of Tver and +the great Sahara is at times startling. There is in both that roll as of +the sea--the great roll that heaves unceasingly round the Capes of Good +Hope and Horn. Looked at casually, Tver and Sahara's plains are level, +and it is only in crossing them that one realizes the gentle up and down +beneath the horses' feet. + +Soon Steinmetz raised his head and sniffed in a loud Teutonic manner. It +was the reek of water; for great rivers, like the ocean, have their +smell. And the Volga is a revelation. Men travel far to see a city, but +few seem curious about a river. Every river has, nevertheless, its +individuality, its great silent interest. Every river has, moreover, its +influence, which extends to the people who pass their lives within sight +of its waters. Thus the Guadalquivir is rapid, mysterious, +untrammelled--breaking frequently from its boundary. And it runs through +Andalusia. The Nile--the river of ages--runs clear, untroubled through +the centuries, between banks untouched by man. The Rhine--romantic, +cultivated, artificial, with a rough subcurrent and a muddy bed--through +Germany. The Seine and the Thames--shallow--shallow--shallow. And +we--who live upon their banks! + +The Volga--immense, stupendous, a great power, an influence two thousand +four hundred miles long. Some have seen the Danube, and think they have +seen a great river. So they have; but the Russian giant is seven hundred +miles longer. A vast yellow stream, moving on to the distant sea--slow, +gentle, inexorable, overwhelming. + +All great things in nature have the power of crushing the human +intellect. Russians are thus crushed by the vastness of their country, +of their rivers. Man is but a small thing in a great country, and those +who live by Nile, or Guadalquivir, or Volga seem to hold their lives on +condition. They exist from day to day by the tolerance of their river. + +Steinmetz and Paul paused for a moment on the wooden floating bridge and +looked at the great river. All who cross that bridge, or the railway +bridge higher up the stream, must do the same. They pause and draw a +deep breath, as if in the presence of something supernatural. + +They rode on without speaking through the squalid town--the whilom rival +and the victim of brilliant Moscow. They rode straight to the station, +where they dined in, by the way, one of the best railway refreshment +rooms in the world. At one o'clock the night express from Moscow to St. +Petersburg, with its huge American locomotive, rumbled into the station. +Paul secured a chair in the long saloon car, and then returned to the +platform. The train waited twenty minutes for refreshments, and he still +had much to say to Steinmetz; for one of these men owned a principality +and the other governed it. They walked up and down the long platform, +smoking endless cigarettes, talking gravely. + +Steinmetz stood on the platform and watched the train pass slowly away +into the night. Then he went toward a lamp, and taking a +pocket-handkerchief from his pocket, examined each corner of it in +succession. It was a small pocket-handkerchief of fine cambric. In one +corner were the initials S.S.B., worked neatly in white--such embroidery +as is done in St. Petersburg. + +"Ach!" exclaimed Steinmetz shortly; "something told me that that was +he." + +He turned the little piece of cambric over and over, examining it +slowly, with a heavy Germanic cunning. He had taken this handkerchief +from the body of the nameless rider who was now lying alone on the +steppe twelve miles away. + +Steinmetz returned to the large refreshment room, and ordered the waiter +to bring him a glass of Benedictine, which he drank slowly and +thoughtfully. + +Then he went toward the large black stove which stands in the railway +restaurant at Tver. He opened the door with the point of his boot. The +wood was roaring and crackling within. He threw the handkerchief in and +closed the door. + +"It is as well, mon prince," he muttered, "that I found this, and not +you." + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +DIPLOMATIC + +"All that there is of the most brilliant and least truthful in Europe," +M. Claude de Chauxville had said to a lady earlier in the evening, +apropos of the great gathering at the French Embassy, and the mot had +gone the round of the room. + +In society a little mot will go a long way. M. le Baron de Chauxville +was, moreover, a manufacturer of mots. By calling he was attache to the +French Embassy in London; by profession he was an epigrammatist. That is +to say, he was a sort of social revolver. He went off if one touched him +conversationally, and like others among us, he frequently missed fire. + +Of course, he had but little real respect for the truth. If one wishes +to be epigrammatic, one must relinquish the hope of being either +agreeable or veracious. M. de Chauxville did not really intend to convey +the idea that any of the persons assembled in the great guest chambers +of the French Embassy that evening were anything but what they seemed. + +He could not surely imagine that Lady Mealhead--the beautiful spouse of +the seventh Earl Mealhead--was anything but what she seemed: namely, a +great lady. Of course, M. de Chauxville knew that Lady Mealhead had once +been the darling of the music-halls, and that a thousand hearts had +vociferously gone out to her from sixpenny and even threepenny galleries +when she answered to the name of Tiny Smalltoes. But then M. de +Chauxville knew as well as you and I--Lady Mealhead no doubt had told +him--that she was the daughter of a clergyman, and had chosen the stage +in preference to the school-room as a means of supporting her aged +mother. Whether M. de Chauxville believed this or not, it is not for us +to enquire. He certainly looked as if he believed it when Lady Mealhead +told him--and his expressive Gallic eyes waxed tender at the mention of +her mother, the relict of the late clergyman, whose name had somehow +been overlooked by Crockford. A Frenchman loves his mother--in the +abstract. + +Nor could M. de Chauxville take exception at young Cyril Squyrt, the +poet. Cyril looked like a poet. He wore his hair over his collar at the +back, and below the collar-bone in front. And, moreover, he was a +poet--one of those who write for ages yet unborn. Besides, his poems +could be bought (of the publisher only; the railway bookstall men did +not understand them) beautifully bound; really beautifully bound in +white kid, with green ribbon--a very thin volume and very thin poetry. +Meddlesome persons have been known to state that Cyril Squyrt's father +kept a prosperous hot-sausage-and-mashed-potato shop in Leeds. But one +must not always believe all that one hears. + +It appears that beneath the turf, or on it, all men are equal, so no one +could object to the presence of Billy Bale, the man, by Gad! who could +give you the straight tip on any race, and looked like it. We all know +Bale's livery stable, the same being Billy's father; but no matter. +Billy wears the best cut riding-breeches in the Park, and, let me tell +you, there are many folk in society with a smaller recommendation than +that. + +Now, it is not our business to go round the rooms of the French Embassy +picking holes in the earthly robes of society's elect. Suffice it to say +that every one was there. Miss Kate Whyte, of course, who had made a +place in society and held it by the indecency of her language. Lady +Mealhead said she couldn't stand Kitty Whyte at any price. We are sorry +to use such a word as indecency in connection with a young person of the +gentler sex, but facts must sometimes be recognized. And it is a bare +fact that society tolerated, nay, encouraged, Kitty Whyte, because +society never knew, and always wanted to know, what she would say next. +She sailed so near to the unsteady breeze of decorum that the +safer-going craft hung breathlessly in her wake in the hope of an upset. + +Every one, in fact, was there. All those who have had greatness thrust +upon them, and the others, those who thrust themselves upon the +great--those, in a word, who reach such as are above them by doing that +which should be beneath them. Lord Mealhead, by the way, was not there. +He never is anywhere where the respectable writer and his high-born +reader are to be found. It is discreet not to enquire where Lord +Mealhead is, especially of Lady Mealhead, who has severed more +completely her connection with the past. His lordship is, perchance, of +a sentimental humor, and loves to wander in those pasteboard groves +where first he met his Tiny--and very natural, too. + +There was music and the refreshments. It was, in fact, a reception. +Gaul's most lively sons bowed before Albion's fairest daughters, and +displayed that fund of verve and esprit which they rightly pride +themselves upon possessing, and which, of course, leave mere Englishmen +so far behind in the paths of love and chivalry. + +When not thus actively engaged they whispered together in corners and +nudged each other, exchanging muttered comments, in which the word +charmante came conveniently to the fore. Thus, the lightsome son of +republican Gaul in society. + +It is, however, high time to explain the reason of our own presence--of +our own reception by France's courteous representative. We are here to +meet Mrs. Sydney Bamborough, and, moreover, to confine our attention to +the persons more or less implicated in the present history. + +Mrs. Sydney Bamborough was undoubtedly the belle of the evening. She had +only to look in one of the many mirrors to make sure of that fact. And +if she wanted further assurance a hundred men in the room would have +been ready to swear to it. This lady had recently dawned on London +society--a young widow. She rarely mentioned her husband; it was +understood to be a painful subject. He had been attached to several +embassies, she said; he had a brilliant career before him, and suddenly +he had died abroad. And then she gave a little sigh and a bright smile, +which, being interpreted, meant "Let us change the subject." + +There was never any doubt about Mrs. Sydney Bamborough. She was +aristocratic to the tips of her dainty white fingers--composed, gentle, +and quite sure of herself. Quite the grand lady, as Lady Mealhead said. +But Mrs. Sydney Bamborough did not know Lady Mealhead, which may have +accounted for the titled woman's little sniff of interrogation. As a +matter of fact, Etta Sydney Bamborough came from excellent ancestry, and +could claim an uncle here, a cousin there, and a number of distant +relatives everywhere, should it be worth the while. + +It was safe to presume that she was rich from the manner in which she +dressed, the number of servants and horses she kept, the general air of +wealth which pervaded her existence. That she was beautiful any one +could see for himself--not in the shop-windows, among the presumably +self-selected types of English beauty, but in the proper place--namely, +in her own and other aristocratic drawing-rooms. + +She was talking to a tall, fair Frenchman--in perfect French--and was +herself nearly as tall as he. Bright brown hair waved prettily back from +a white forehead, clever, dark gray eyes and a lovely complexion--one of +those complexions which, from a purity of conscience or a steadiness of +nerve, never change. Cheeks of a faint pink, an expressive, mobile +mouth, a neck of dazzling white. Such was Mrs. Sydney Bamborough, in the +prime of her youth. + +"And you maintain that it is five years since we met," she was saying to +the tall Frenchman. + +"Have I not counted every day?" he replied. + +"I do not know," she answered, with a little laugh, that little laugh +which tells wise men where flattery may be shot like so much +conversational rubbish. Some women are fathomless pits, the rubbish +never seems to fill them. "I do not know, but I should not think so." + +"Well, madam, it is so. Witness these gray hairs. Ah! those were happy +days in St. Petersburg." + +Mrs. Sydney Bamborough smiled--a pleasant society smile, not too +pronounced and just sufficient to suggest pearly teeth. At the mention +of St. Petersburg she glanced round to see that they were not overheard. +She gave a little shiver. + +"Don't speak of Russia!" she pleaded. "I hate to hear it mentioned. I +was so happy. It is painful to remember." + +Even while she spoke the expression of her face changed to one of gay +delight. She nodded and smiled toward a tall man who was evidently +looking for her, and took no notice of the Frenchman's apologies. + +"Who _is_ that?" asked the young man. "I see him everywhere lately." + +"A mere English gentleman, Mr. Paul Howard Alexis," replied the lady. + +The Frenchman raised his eyebrows. He knew better. This was no plain +English gentleman. He bowed and took his leave. M. de Chauxville of the +French Embassy was watching every movement, every change of expression, +from across the room. + +In evening dress the man whom we last saw on the platform of the railway +station at Tver did not look so unmistakably English. It was more +evident that he had inherited certain characteristics from his Russian +mother--notably, his great height, a physical advantage enjoyed by many +aristocratic Russian families. His hair was fair and inclined to curl, +and there the foreign suggestion suddenly ceased. His face had the quiet +concentration, the unobtrusive self-absorption which one sees more +strongly marked in English faces than in any others. His manner of +moving through the well-dressed crowd somewhat belied the tan of his +skin. Here was an out-of-door, athletic youth, who knew how to move in +drawing-rooms--a big man who did not look much too large for his +surroundings. It was evident that he did not know many people, and also +that he was indifferent to his loss. He had come to see Mrs. Sydney +Bamborough, and that lady was not insensible to the fact. + +To prove this she diverged from the path of veracity, as is the way of +some women. + +"I did not expect to see you here," she said. + +"You told me you were coming," he answered simply. The inference would +have been enough for some women, but not for Etta Sydney Bamborough. + +"Well, is that a reason why you should attend a diplomatic soiree, and +force yourself to bow and smirk to a number of white-handed little +dandies whom you despise?" + +"The best reason," he answered quietly, with an honesty which somehow +touched her as nothing else had touched this beautiful woman since she +had become aware of her beauty. + +"Then you think it worth the bowing and the smirking?" she asked, +looking past him with innocent eyes. She made an imperceptible little +movement toward him as if she expected him to whisper. She was of that +school. But he was not. His was not the sort of mind to conceive any +thought that required whispering. Some persons in fact went so far as to +say that he was hopelessly dull, that he had no subtlety of thought, no +brightness, no conversation. These persons were no doubt ladies upon +whom he had failed to lavish the exceedingly small change of compliment. + +"It is worth that and more," he replied, with his ready smile. "After +all, bowing and smirking come very easily. One soon gets accustomed to +it." + +"One has to," she replied with a little sigh. "Especially if one is a +woman, which little mishap comes to some of us, you know. I wonder if +you could find me a chair." + +She was standing with her back to a small sofa capable of holding three, +but calculated to accommodate two. She did not of course see it. In fact +she looked everywhere but toward it, raising her perfectly gloved +fingers tentatively for his arm. + +"I am tired of standing," she added. + +He turned and indicated the sofa, toward which she immediately advanced. +As she sat down he noted vaguely that she was exquisitely dressed, +certainly one of the best dressed women in the room. Her costume was +daring without being startling, being merely black and white largely, +boldly contrasted. He felt indefinitely proud of the dress. Some +instinct in the man's simple, strong mind told him that it was good for +women to be beautiful, but his ignorance of the sex being profound he +had no desire to analyze the beauty. He had no mental reservation with +regard to her. Indeed it would have been hard to find fault with Etta +Sydney Bamborough, looking upon her merely as a beautiful woman, +exquisitely dressed. In a cynical age this man was without cynicism. He +did not dream of reflecting that the lovely hair owed half its beauty to +the clever handling of a maid, that the perfect dress had been the +all-absorbing topic of many of its wearer's leisure hours. He was, in +fact, young for his years, and what is youth but a happy ignorance? It +is only when we know too much that Gravity marks us for her own. + +Mrs. Sydney Bamborough looked up at him with a certain admiration. This +man was like a mountain breeze to one who has breathed nothing but the +faded air of drawing-rooms. + +She drew in her train with a pretty curve of her gloved wrist. + +"You look as if you did not know what it was to be tired; but perhaps +you will sit down. I can make room." + +He accepted with alacrity. + +"And now," she said, "let me hear where you have been. I have only had +time to shake hands with you the last twice that we have met! You said +you had been away." + +"Yes; I have been to Russia." + +Her face was steadily beautiful, composed and ready. + +"Ah! How interesting! I have been in Petersburg. I love Russia." While +she spoke she was actually looking across the room toward the tall +Frenchman, her late companion. + +"Do you?" answered Paul eagerly. His face lighted up after the manner of +those countenances that belong to men of one idea. "I am very much +interested in Russia." + +"Do you know Petersburg?" she asked rather hurriedly. "I mean--society +there?" + +"No. I know one or two people in Moscow." + +She nodded, suppressing a quick little sigh which might have been one of +relief had her face been less pleasant and smiling. + +"Who?" she asked indifferently. She was interested in the lace of her +pocket-handkerchief, of which the scent faintly reached him. He was a +simple person, and the faint odor gave him a distinct pleasure--a +suggested intimacy. + +He mentioned several well-known Muscovite names, and she broke into a +sudden laugh. + +"How terrible they sound," she said gayly, "even to me, and I have been +to Petersburg. But you speak Russian, Mr. Alexis?" + +"Yes," he answered. "And you?" + +She shook her head and gave a little sigh. + +"I? Oh, no. I am not at all clever, I am afraid." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +DON QUIXOTE + +Paul had been five months in England when he met Mrs. Sydney Bamborough. +Since his hurried departure from Tver a winter had come and gone, +leaving its mark as winters do. It left a very distinct mark on Russia. +It was a famine winter. From the snow-ridden plains that lie to the +north of Moscow, Karl Steinmetz had written piteous descriptions of an +existence which seemed hardly worth the living. But each letter had +terminated with a prayer, remarkably near to a command, that he, Paul +Howard Alexis, should remain in England. So Paul stayed in London, where +he indulged to the full a sadly mistaken hobby. This man had, as we have +seen, that which is called a crank, or a loose screw, according to the +fancy of the speaker. He had conceived the absurd idea of benefiting his +fellow-beings, and of turning into that mistaken channel the surplus +wealth that was his. This, moreover, if it please you, without so much +as forming himself into a society. + +This is an age of societies, and, far from concealing from the left hand +the good which the right may be doing, we publish abroad our charities +on all hands. We publish in a stout volume our names and donations. We +even go so far as to cultivate an artificial charity by meat and drink +and speeches withal. When we have eaten and drunk, the plate is handed +round, and from the fulness of our heart we give abundantly. We are +cunning even in our well-doing. We do not pass round the plate until the +decanters have led the way. And thus we degrade that quality of the +human heart which is the best of all. + +But Paul Howard Alexis had the good fortune to be rich out of England, +and that roaring lion of modern days, organized charity, passed him by. +He was thus left to evolve from his own mind a mistaken sense of his +duty toward his neighbor. That there were thousands of well-meaning +persons in black and other coats ready to prove to him that revenues +gathered from Russia should be spent in the East End or the East Indies, +goes without saying. There are always well-meaning persons among us +ready to direct the charity of others. We have all met those virtuous +persons who do good by proxy. But Paul had not. He had never come face +to face with the charity broker--the man who stands between the needy +and the giver, giving nothing himself, and living on his brokerage, +sitting in a comfortable chair, with his feet on a Turkey carpet in his +office on a main thoroughfare. Paul had met none of these, and the only +organized charity of which he was cognizant was the great Russian +Charity League, betrayed six months earlier to a government which has +ever turned its face against education and enlightenment. In this he had +taken no active part, but he had given largely of his great wealth. That +his name had figured on the list of families sold for a vast sum of +money to the authorities of the Ministry of the Interior seemed all too +sure. But he had had no intimation that he was looked upon with small +favor. The more active members of the League had been less fortunate, +and more than one nobleman had been banished to his estates. + +Although the sum actually paid for the papers of the Charity League was +known, the recipient of the blood money had never been discovered. It +was a large sum, for the government had been quick to recognize the +necessity of nipping this movement in the bud. Education is a dangerous +matter to deal with; England is beginning to find this out for herself. +For on the heels of education socialism ever treads. When at last +education makes a foothold in Russia, that foothold will be on the very +step of the autocratic throne. The Charity League had, as Steinmetz put +it, the primary object of preparing the peasant for education, and +thereafter placing education within his reach. Such proceedings were +naturally held by those in high places to be only second to Nihilism. + +All this, and more which shall transpire in the course of this +narration, was known to Paul. In face of the fact that his name was +prominently before the Russian Ministry of the Interior, he proceeded +all through the winter to ship road-making tools, agricultural +implements, seeds, and food. + +"The prince," said Steinmetz to those who were interested in the matter, +"is mad. He thinks that a Russian principality is to be worked on the +same system as an English estate." + +He would laugh and shrug his shoulders, and then he would sit down and +send a list of further requirements to Paul Howard Alexis, Esquire, in +London. + +Paul had met Mrs. Sydney Bamborough on one or two occasions, and had +been interested in her. From the first he had come under the influence +of her beauty. But she was then a married woman. He met her again toward +the end of the terrible winter to which reference has been made, and +found that a mere acquaintanceship had in the meantime developed into +friendship. He could not have told when and where the great social +barrier had been surmounted and left behind. He only knew in an +indefinite way that some such change had taken place, as all such +changes do, not in intercourse, but in the intervals of absence. It is a +singular fact that we do not make our friends when they are near. The +seed of friendship and love alike is soon sown, and the best is that +which germinates in absence. + +That friendship had rapidly developed into something else Paul became +aware early in the season; and, as we have seen from his conversation, +Mrs. Sydney Bamborough, innocent and guileless as she was, might with +all modesty have divined the state of his feelings had she been less +overshadowed by her widow's weeds. + +She apparently had no such suspicion, for she asked Paul in all good +faith to call the next day and tell her all about Russia--"dear Russia." + +"My cousin Maggie," she added, "is staying with me. She is a dear girl. +I am sure you will like her." + +Paul accepted with alacrity, but reserved to himself the option of +hating Mrs. Sydney Bamborough's cousin Maggie, merely because that young +lady existed and happened to be staying in Upper Brook Street. + +At five o'clock the next afternoon he presented himself at the house of +mourning, and completely filled up its small entrance-hall. + +He was shown into the drawing-room, where he discovered Miss Margaret +Delafield in the act of dragging her hat off in front of the mirror over +the mantelpiece. He heard a suppressed exclamation of amused horror, and +found himself shaking hands with Mrs. Sydney Bamborough. + +The lady mentioned Paul's name and her cousin's relationship in that +casual manner which constitutes an introduction in these degenerate +days. Miss Delafield bowed, laughed, and moved toward the door. She left +the room, and behind her an impression of breeziness and health, of +English girlhood and a certain bright cheerfulness which acts as a +filter in social muddy waters. + +"It is very good of you to come--I was moping," said Mrs. Sydney +Bamborough. She was, as a matter of fact, resting before the work of the +evening. This lady thoroughly understood the art of being beautiful. + +Paul did not answer at once. He was looking at a large photograph which +stood in a frame on the mantelpiece--the photograph of a handsome man of +twenty-eight or thirty, small-featured, fair, and shifty looking. + +"Who is that?" he asked abruptly. + +"Do you not know? My husband." + +Paul muttered an apology, but he did not turn away from the photograph. + +"Oh, never mind," said Mrs. Sydney Bamborough, in reply to his regret +that he had stumbled upon a painful subject. "I never--" + +She paused. + +"No," she went on, "I won't say that." + +But, so far as conveying what she meant was concerned, she might just as +well have uttered the words. + +"I do not want a sympathy which is unmerited," she said gravely. + +He turned and looked at her, sitting in a graceful attitude, the +incarnation of a most refined and nineteenth-century misfortune. She +raised her eyes to his for a moment--a sort of photographic +instantaneous shutter, exposing for the hundredth part of a second the +sensitive plate of her heart. Then she suppressed a sigh--badly. + +"I was married horribly young," she said, "before I knew what I was +doing. But even if I had known I do not suppose I should have had the +strength of mind to resist my father and mother." + +"They forced you into it?" + +"Yes," said Mrs. Bamborough. And it is possible that a respectable and +harmless pair of corpses turned in their respective coffins somewhere in +the neighborhood of Norwood. + +"I hope there is a special hell reserved for parents who ruin their +daughters' lives to suit their own ambition," said Paul, with a sudden +concentrated heat which rather startled his hearer. + +This man was full of surprises for Etta Sydney Bamborough. It was like +playing with fire--a form of amusement which will be popular as long as +feminine curiosity shall last. + +"You are rather shocking," she said lightly. "But it is all over now, so +we need not dig up old grievances. Only I want you to understand that +that photograph represents a part of my life which was only +painful--nothing else." + +Paul, standing in front of her, looked down thoughtfully at the +beautiful upturned face. His hands were clasped behind him, his firm +mouth set sternly beneath the great fair mustache. In Russia the men +have good eyes--blue, fierce, intelligent. Such eyes had the son of the +Princess Alexis. There was something in Etta Bamborough that stirred up +within him a quality which men are slowly losing--namely, chivalry. +Steinmetz held that this man was quixotic, and what Steinmetz said was +usually worth some small attention. Whatever faults that poor knight of +La Mancha who has been the laughing-stock of the world these many +centuries--whatever faults or foolishness may have been his, he was at +all events a gentleman. + +Paul's instinct was to pity this woman for the past that had been hers; +his desire was to help her and protect her, to watch over her and fight +her battles for her. It was what is called Love. But there is no word in +any spoken language that covers so wide a field. Every day and all day +we call many things love which are not love. The real thing is as rare +as genius, but we usually fail to recognize its rarity. We misuse the +word, for we fail to draw the necessary distinctions. We fail to +recognize the plain and simple truth that many of us are not able to +love--just as there are many who are not able to play the piano or to +sing. We raise up our voices and make a sound, but it is not singing. We +marry and we give in marriage, but it is not loving. Love is like a +color--say, blue. There are a thousand shades of blue, and the outer +shades are at last not blue at all, but green or purple. So in love +there are a thousand shades, and very, very few of them are worthy of +the name. + +That which Paul Howard Alexis felt at this time for Etta was merely the +chivalrous instinct that teaches men their primary duty toward +women--namely, to protect and respect them. But out of this instinct +grows the better thing--Love. + +There are some women whose desire it is to be all things to all men +instead of every thing to one. This was the stumbling-block in the way +of Etta Bamborough. It was her instinct to please all at any price, and +her obedience to such instinct was often unconscious. She hardly knew +perhaps that she was trading upon a sense of chivalry rare in these +days, but had she known she could not have traded with a keener +comprehension of the commerce. + +"I should like to forget the past altogether," she said. "But it is hard +for women to get rid of the past. It is rather terrible to feel that one +will be associated all one's life with a person for whom no one had any +respect. He was not honorable or--" + +She paused; for the intuition of some women is marvellous. A slight +change of countenance had told her that charity, especially toward the +dead, is a commendable quality. + +"The world," she went on rather hurriedly, "never makes allowances--does +it? He was easily led, I suppose. And people said things of him that +were not true. Did you ever hear of him in Russia--of the things they +said of him?" + +She waited for the answer with suppressed eagerness--a good woman +defending the memory of her dead husband--a fair lioness protecting her +cub. + +"No; I never hear Russian gossip. I know no one in St. Petersburg, and +few in Moscow." + +She gave a little sigh of relief. + +"Then perhaps poor Sydney's delinquencies have been forgotten," she +said. "In six months every thing is forgotten now. He has only been dead +six months, you know. He died in Russia." + +All the while she was watching his face. She had moved in a circle where +everything is known--where men have faces of iron and nerves of steel to +conceal what they know. She could hardly believe that Paul Alexis knew +so little as he pretended. + +"So I heard a month ago," he said. + +In a flash of thought Etta remembered that it was only within the last +four weeks that this admirer had betrayed his admiration. Could this be +that phenomenon of the three-volume novel, an honorable man? She looked +at him with curiosity--without, it is to be feared, much respect. + +"And now," she said cheerfully, "let us change the subject. I have +inflicted enough of myself and my affairs upon you for one day. Tell me +about yourself. Why were you in Russia last summer?" + +"I am half a Russian," he answered. "My mother was Russian, and I have +estates there." + +Her surprise was a triumph of art. + +"Oh! You are not Prince Pavlo Alexis?" she exclaimed. + +"Yes, I am." + +She rose and swept him a deep courtesy, to the full advantage of her +beautiful figure. + +"My respects--mon prince," she said; and then, quick as lightning, for +she had seen displeasure on his face, she broke into a merry laugh. + +"No, I won't call you that; for I know you hate it. I have heard of your +prejudices, and if it is of the slightest interest to you, I think I +rather admire them." + +It is to be presumed that Mrs. Sydney Bamborough's memory was short. For +it was a matter of common knowledge in the diplomatic circles in which +she moved that Mr. Paul Howard Alexis of Piccadilly House, London, and +Prince Pavlo Alexis of the province of Tver, were one and the same man. + +Having, however, fully established this fact, from the evidence of her +own ears, she conversed very pleasantly and innocently upon matters, +Russian and English, until other visitors arrived and Paul withdrew. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +THE BARON + +Among the visitors whom Paul left behind him in the little drawing-room +in Brook Street was the Baron Claude de Chauxville, Baron of Chauxville +and Chauxville le Duc, in the Province of Seine-et-Marne, France, +attache to the French Embassy to the Court of St. James; before men a +rising diplomatist, before God a scoundrel. This gentleman remained when +the other visitors had left, and Miss Maggie Delafield, seeing his +intention of prolonging a visit of which she had already had sufficient, +made an inadequate excuse and left the room. + +Miss Delafield, being a healthy-minded young English person of that +simplicity which is no simplicity at all, but merely simple-heartedness, +had her own ideas of what a man should be, and M. de Chauxville had the +misfortune to fall short of those ideas. He was too epigrammatic for +her, and beneath the brilliancy of his epigram she felt at times the +presence of something dark and nauseous. Her mental attitude toward him +was contemptuous and perfectly polite. With the reputation of possessing +a dangerous fascination--one of those reputations which can only emanate +from the man himself--M. de Chauxville neither fascinated nor +intimidated Miss Delafield. He therefore disliked her intensely. His +vanity was colossal, and when a Frenchman is vain he is childishly so. + +M. de Chauxville watched the door close behind Miss Delafield with a +queer smile. Then he turned suddenly on his heels and faced Mrs. Sydney +Bamborough. + +"Your cousin," he said, "is a typical Englishwoman--she only conceals +her love." + +"For you?" enquired Mrs. Sydney Bamborough. + +The baron shrugged his shoulders. + +"Possibly. One can never tell. She conceals it very well if it exists. +However, I am indifferent. The virtue of the violet is its own reward, +perhaps, for the rose always wins." + +He crossed the room toward Mrs. Sydney Bamborough, who was standing near +the mantelpiece. Her left hand was hanging idly by her side. He took the +white fingers and gallantly raised them to his lips, but before they had +reached that fount of truth and wisdom she jerked her hand away. + +M. de Chauxville laughed--the quiet, assured laugh of a man who has read +in books that he who is bold enough can win any woman, and believes it. +He was of those men who treat and speak of women as a class--creatures +to be dealt with successfully according to generality and maxim. It is a +singular thing, by the way, that men as a whole continue to disbelieve +in a woman's negative--singular, that is, when one reflects that the +majority of men have had at least one negative which has remained a +negative, so far as they were concerned, all the woman's life. + +"I am aware," said M. de Chauxville, "that the rose has thorns. One +reason why the violet is hors de concours." + +Etta smiled--almost relenting. She was never quite safe against her own +vanity. Happy the woman who is, and rare. + +"I suspect that the violet is innocent of any desire to enter into +competition," said Etta. + +"Knowing," suggested De Chauxville, "that although the race is not +always to the swift, it is usually so. Please do not stand. It suggests +that you are waiting for me to go or for some one else to come." + +"Neither." + +"Then prove it by taking this chair. Thus. Near the fire, for it is +quite an English spring. A footstool. Is it permitted to admire your +slippers--what there is of them? Now you look comfortable." + +He attended to her wants, divined them, and perhaps created them with a +perfect grace and much too intimate a knowledge. As a carpet knight he +was faultless. And Etta thought of Paul, who could do none of these +things--or would do none of them--Paul, who never made her feel like a +doll. + +"Will you not sit down?" she said, indicating a chair, which he did not +take. He selected one nearer to her. + +"I can think of nothing more desirable." + +"Than what?" she asked. Her vanity was like a hungry fish. It rose to +everything. + +"A chair in this room." + +"A modest desire," she said. "Is that really all you want in this +world?" + +"No," he answered, looking at her. + +She gave a little laugh and moved rather hurriedly. + +"I was going to suggest that you could have both at certain fixed +periods--whenever--I am out." + +"I am glad you did not suggest it." + +"Why?" she asked sharply. + +"Because I should have had to go into explanations. I did not say all." + +Mrs. Bamborough was looking into the fire, only half listening to him. +There was something in the nature of a duel between these two. Each +thought more of the next stroke than of the present party. + +"Do you ever say all, M. de Chauxville?" she asked. + +The baron laughed. Perhaps he was vain of the reputation that was his, +for this man was held to be a finished diplomatist. A finished +diplomatist, be it known, is one who is a dangerous foe and an +unreliable friend. + +"Perhaps--now that I reflect upon it," continued the clever woman, +disliking the clever man's silence, "the person who said all would be +intolerable." + +"There are some things which go without it," said De Chauxville. + +"Ah?" looking lazily back at him over her shoulder. + +"Yes." + +He was cautious, for he was fighting on a field which women may rightly +claim for their own. He really loved Etta. He was trying to gauge the +meaning of a little change in her tone toward him--a change so subtle +that few men could have detected it. But Claude de Chauxville +--accomplished steersman through the shoals of human nature, +especially through those very pronounced shoals who call themselves +women of the world--Claude de Chauxville knew the value of the slightest +change of manner, should that change manifest itself more than once. + +The ring of indifference, or something dangerously near it, in Etta's +voice had first been noticeable the previous evening, and the attache +knew it. It had been in her voice whenever she spoke to him then. It was +there now. + +"Some things," he continued, in a voice she had never heard before, for +this man was innately artificial, "which a woman usually knows before +they are told to her." + +"What sort of things, M. le Baron?" + +He gave a little laugh. It was so strange a thing to him to be sincere +that he felt awkward and abashed. He was surprised at his own sincerity. + +"That I love you--hum. You have known it long?" + +The face which he could not see was not quite the face of a good woman. +Etta was smiling. + +"No--o," she almost whispered. + +"I think you must have known it," he corrected suavely. "Will you do me +the honor of becoming my wife?" + +It was very correctly done, Claude de Chauxville had regained control +over himself. He was able to think about the riches which were evidently +hers. But through the thought he loved the woman. + +The lady lowered the feather screen which she was holding between her +face and the fire. Regardless of the imminent danger in which she was +placing her complexion, she studied the glowing cinders for some +moments, weighing something or some persons in her mind. + +"No, my friend," she answered in French, at length. + +The baron's face was drawn and white. Beneath his trim black mustache +there was a momentary gleam of sharp white teeth as he bit his lip. + +He came nearer to her, leaning one hand on the back of her chair, +looking down. He could only see the beautifully dressed hair, the +clean-cut profile. She continued to look into the fire, conscious of the +hand close to her shoulder. + +"No, my friend," she repeated. "We know each other too well for that. It +would never do." + +"But when I tell you that I love you," he said quietly, with his voice +well in control. + +"I did not know that the word was in your vocabulary--you, a diplomat." + +"And a man--you put the word there--Etta." + +The hand-screen was raised for a moment in objection--presumably to the +Christian name of which he had made use. + +He waited; passivity was one of his strong points. It had frightened men +before this. + +Then, with a graceful movement, she swung suddenly round in her chair, +looking up at him. She broke into a merry laugh. + +"I believe you are actually in earnest!" she cried. + +He looked quietly down into her face without moving a muscle in response +to her change of humor. + +"Very clever," he said. + +"What?" she asked, still smiling. + +"The attitude, the voice, every thing. You have known all along that I +am in earnest, you have known it for the last six months. You have seen +me often enough when I was--well, not in earnest, to know the +difference." + +Etta rose quickly. It was some lightning-like woman's instinct that made +her do so. Standing, she was taller than M. de Chauxville. + +"Do not let us be tragic," she said coldly. "You have asked me to marry +you; why, I don't know. The reason will probably transpire later. I +appreciate the honor, but I beg to decline it. Et voila tout. All is +said." + +He spread out apologetic hands. + +"All is not said," he corrected, with a dangerous suavity. "I +acknowledge the claim enjoyed by your sex to the last word. In this +matter, however, I am inclined to deny it to the individual." + +Etta Sydney Bamborough smiled. She leaned against the mantelpiece, with +her chin resting on her curved fingers. The attitude was eminently +calculated to show to full advantage a faultless figure. She evidently +had no desire to cheapen that which she would deny. She shrugged her +shoulders and waited. + +De Chauxville was vain, but he was clever enough to conceal his vanity. +He was hurt, but he was man enough to hide it. Under the passivity which +was his by nature and practice, he had learned to think very quickly. +But now he was at a disadvantage. He was unnerved by his love for +Etta--by the sight of Etta before him daringly, audaciously +beautiful--by the thought that she might never be his. + +"It is not only that I love you," he said, "that I have a certain +position to offer you. These I beg you to take at their poor value. But +there are other circumstances known to both of us which are more worthy +of your attention--circumstances which may dispose you to reconsider +your determination." + +"Nothing will do that," she replied; "not any circumstance." + +Etta was speaking to De Chauxville and thinking of Paul Alexis. + +"I should like to know since when you have discovered that you never +could under any circumstances marry me," pursued M. de Chauxville. "Not +that it matters, since it is too late. I am not going to allow you to +draw back now. You have gone too far. All this winter you have allowed +me to pay you conspicuous and marked attentions. You have conveyed to me +and to the world at large the impression that I had merely to speak in +order to obtain your hand." + +"I doubt," said Etta, "whether the world at large is so deeply +interested in the matter as you appear to imagine. I am sorry that I +have gone too far, but I reserve to myself the right of retracing my +footsteps wherever and whenever I please. I am sorry I conveyed to you +or to any one else the impression that you had only to speak in order to +obtain my hand, and I can only conclude that your overweening vanity has +led you into a mistake which I will be generous enough to hold my tongue +about." + +The diplomatist was for a moment taken aback. + +"Mais--" he exclaimed, with indignant arms outspread; and even in his +own language he could find nothing to add to the expressive +monosyllable. + +"I think you had better go," said Etta quietly. She went toward the +fire-place and rang the bell. + +M. de Chauxville took up his hat and gloves. + +"Of course," he said coldly, his voice shaking with suppressed rage, +"there is some reason for this. There is, I presume, some one else--some +one has been interfering. No one interferes with me with impunity. I +shall make it my business to find out who is this--" + +He did not finish: for the door was thrown open by the butler, who +announced: + +"Mr. Alexis." + +Paul came into the room with a bow toward De Chauxville, who was going +out, and whom he knew slightly. + +"I came back," he said, "to ask what evening next week you are free. I +have a box for the 'Huguenots.'" + +Paul did not stay. The thing was arranged in a few moments, and as he +left the drawing-room he heard the wheels of De Chauxville's carriage. + +Etta stood for a moment when the door had closed behind the two men, +looking at the portiere which had hidden them from sight, as if +following them in thought. Then she gave a little laugh--a queer laugh +that might have had no heart in it, or too much for the ordinary +purposes of life. She shrugged her shoulders and took up a magazine, +with which she returned to the chair placed for her before the fire by +Claude de Chauxville. + +In a few minutes Maggie came into the room. She was carrying a bundle of +flannel. + +"The weakest thing I ever did," she said cheerfully, "was to join Lady +Crewel's working guild. Two flannel petticoats for the young by Thursday +morning. I chose the young because the petticoats are so ludicrously +small." + +"If you never do anything weaker than that," said Etta, looking into the +fire, "you will not come to much harm." + +"Perhaps not; what have you been doing--something weaker?" + +"Yes. I have been quarrelling with M. de Chauxville." + +Maggie held up a petticoat by the selvage (which a male writer takes to +be the lower hem), and looked at her cousin through the orifice intended +for the waist of the young. + +"If one could manage it without lowering one's dignity," she said, "I +think that that is the best thing one could possibly do with M. de +Chauxville." + +Etta had taken up the magazine again. She was pretending to read it. + +"Yes; but he knows too much--about every-body," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +THE TALLEYRAND CLUB + +It has been said of the Talleyrand Club that the only qualifications +required for admittance to its membership are a frock-coat and a glib +tongue. To explain the whereabouts of the Talleyrand Club were only a +work of supererogation. Many hansom cabmen know it. Hansom cabmen know +more than they are credited with. + +The Talleyrand, as its name implies, is a diplomatic club, but +ambassadors and ministers enter not its portals. They send their +juniors. Some of these latter are in the habit of stating that London is +the hub of Europe and the Talleyrand smoking-room its grease-box. +Certain is it that such men as Claude de Chauxville, as Karl Steinmetz, +and a hundred others who are or have been political scene-shifters, are +to be found in the Talleyrand rooms. + +It is a quiet club, with many members and sparse accommodation. Its +rooms are never crowded, because half of its members are afraid of +meeting the other half. It has swinging glass doors to its every +apartment, the lower portion of the glass being opaque, while the upper +moiety affords a peep-hole. Thus, if you are sitting in one of the deep, +comfortable chairs to be found in all these small rooms, you will be +aware from time to time of eyes and a bald head above the ground glass. +If you are nobody, eyes and bald head will prove to be the property of a +gentleman who does not know you, or knows you and pretends that he does +not. If you are somebody, your solitude will depend upon your +reputation. + +There are quite a number of bald heads in the Talleyrand Club--bald +heads surmounting youthful, innocent faces. The innocence of these +gentlemen is quite remarkable. Like a certain celestial, they are +"childlike and bland"; they ask guileless questions; they make blameless +mistakes in respect to facts, and require correction, which they receive +meekly. They know absolutely nothing, and their thirst for information +is as insatiable as it is unobtrusive. + +The atmosphere is vivacious with the light sound of many foreign +tongues; it bristles with the ephemeral importance of cheap titles. One +never knows whether one's neighbor is an ornament to the Almanac de +Gotha, or a disgrace to a degenerate colony of refugees. + +Some are plain Messieurs, Senores, or Herren. Bluff foreigners with +upright hair and melancholy eyes, who put up philosophically with a +cheaper brand of cigar than their souls love. Among the latter may be +classed Karl Steinmetz--the bluffest of the bluff--innocent even of his +own innocence. + +Karl Steinmetz in due course reached England, and in natural sequence +the smoking-room--room B on the left as you go in--of the Talleyrand. + +He was there one evening after an excellent dinner taken with humorous +resignation, smoking the largest cigar the waiter could supply, when +Claude de Chauxville happened to have nothing better or nothing worse to +do. + +De Chauxville looked through the glass door for some seconds. Then he +twisted his waxed mustache and lounged in. Steinmetz was alone in the +room, and De Chauxville was evidently--almost obviously--unaware of his +presence. He went to the table and proceeded to search in vain for a +newspaper that interested him. He raised his eyes casually and met the +quiet gaze of Karl Steinmetz. + +"Ah!" he exclaimed. + +"Yes," said Steinmetz. + +"You--in London?" + +Steinmetz nodded gravely. + +"Yes," he repeated. + +"One never knows where one has you," Claude de Chauxville went on, +seating himself in a deep arm-chair, newspaper in hand. "You are a bird +of passage." + +"A little heavy on the wing--now," said Steinmetz. + +He laid his newspaper down on his stout knees and looked at De +Chauxville over his gold eye-glasses. He did not attempt to conceal the +fact that he was wondering what this man wanted with him. The baron +seemed to be wondering what object Steinmetz had in view in getting +stout. He suspected some motive in the obesity. + +"Ah!" he said deprecatingly. "That is nothing. Time leaves its mark upon +all of us. It was not yesterday that we were in Petersburg together." + +"No," answered Steinmetz. "It was before the German Empire--many years +ago." + +De Chauxville counted back with his slim fingers on the +table--delightfully innocent. + +"Yes," he said, "the years seem to fly in coveys. Do you ever see any of +our friends of that time--you who are in Russia?" + +"Who were our friends of that time?" parried Steinmetz, polishing his +glasses with a silk handkerchief. "My memory is a broken reed--you +remember?" + +For a moment Claude de Chauxville met the full, quiet, gray eyes. + +"Yes," he said significantly, "I remember. Well--for instance, Prince +Dawoff?" + +"Dead. I never see him--thank Heaven!" + +"The princess?" + +"I never see; she keeps a gambling house in Paris." + +"And little Andrea?" + +"Never sees me. Married to a wholesale undertaker, who has buried her +past." + +"En gros?" + +"Et en detail." + +"The Count Lanovitch," pursued De Chauxville, "where is he?" + +"Banished for his connection with the Charity League." + +"Catrina?" + +"Catrina is living in the province of Tver--we are neighbors--she and +her mother, the countess." + +De Chauxville nodded. None of the details really interested him. His +indifference was obvious. + +"Ah! the Countess Lanovitch," he said reflectively, "she was a foolish +woman." + +"And is." + +M. de Chauxville laughed. This clumsy German ex-diplomat amused him +immensely. Many people amuse us who are themselves amused in their +sleeve. + +"And--er--the Sydney Bamboroughs," said the Frenchman, as if the name +had almost left his memory. + +Karl Steinmetz lazily stretched out his arm and took up the _Morning +Post_. He unfolded the sheet slowly, and having found what he sought, he +read aloud: + +"'His Excellency the Roumanian Ambassador gave a select dinner-party at +4 Craven Gardens, yesterday. Among the guests were the Baron de +Chauxville, Feneer Pasha, Lord and Lady Standover, Mrs. Sydney +Bamborough, and others.'" + +Steinmetz threw the paper down and leant back in his chair. + +"So, my dear friend," he said, "it is probable that you know more about +the Sydney Bamboroughs than I do." + +If Claude de Chauxville was disconcerted he certainly did not show it. +His was a face eminently calculated to conceal whatever thought or +feeling might be passing through his mind. Of an even white +complexion--verging on pastiness--he was handsome in a certain +statuesque way. His features were always composed and dignified; his +hair, thin and straight, was never out of order, but ever smooth and +sleek upon his high, narrow brow. His eyes had that dulness which is +characteristic of many Frenchmen, and may perhaps be attributed to the +habitual enjoyment of too rich a cuisine and too many cigarettes. + +De Chauxville waved aside the small contretemps with easy nonchalance. + +"Not necessarily," he said, in cold, even tones. "Mrs. Sydney Bamborough +does not habitually take into her confidence all who happen to dine at +the same table as herself. Your confidential woman is usually a liar." + +Steinmetz was filling his pipe; this man had the evil habit of smoking a +wooden pipe after a cigar. + +"My very dear De Chauxville," he said, without lookup, "your epigrams +are lost on me. I know most of them. I have heard them before. If you +have anything to tell me about Mrs. Sydney Bamborough, for Heaven's sake +tell it to me quite plainly. I like plain dishes and unvarnished +stories. I am a German, you know; that is to say, a person with a dull +palate and a thick head." + +De Chauxville laughed again in an unemotional way. + +"You alter little," he said. "Your plainness of speech takes me back to +Petersburg. Yes, I admit that Mrs. Sydney Bamborough rather interested +me. But I assume too much; that is no reason why she should interest +you." + +"She does not, my good friend, but you do. I am all attention." + +"Do you know anything of her?" asked De Chauxville perfunctorily, not as +a man who expects an answer or intends to believe that which he may be +about to hear. + +"Nothing." + +"You are likely to know more?" + +Karl Steinmetz shrugged his heavy shoulders, and shook his head +doubtfully. + +"I am not a lady's man," he added gruffly; "the good God has not shaped +me that way. I am too d--d fat. Has Mrs. Sydney Bamborough fallen in +love with me? Has some imprudent person shown her my photograph? I hope +not. Heaven forbid!" + +He puffed steadily at his pipe, and glanced quickly at De Chauxville +through the smoke. + +"No," answered the Frenchman quite gravely. Frenchmen, by the way, do +not admit that one may be too middle-aged, or too stout, for love. "But +she is au mieux with the prince." + +"Which prince?" + +"Pavlo." + +The Frenchman snapped out the word, watching the other's benevolent +countenance. Steinmetz continued to smoke placidly and contentedly. + +"My master," he said at length. "I suppose that some day he will marry." + +De Chauxville shrugged his shoulders. He touched the button of the +electric bell, and when the servant appeared, ordered coffee. He +selected a cigarette from a silver case with considerable care, and +having lighted it smoked for some moments in silence. The servant +brought the coffee, which he drank thoughtfully. Steinmetz was leaning +back in his deep chair, with his legs crossed. He was gazing into the +fire, which burnt brightly, although it was nearly May. The habits of +the Talleyrand Club are almost continental. The rooms are always too +warm. The silence was that of two men knowing each other well. + +"And why not Mrs. Sydney Bamborough?" asked Steinmetz suddenly. + +"Why not, indeed?" replied De Chauxville. "It is no affair of mine. A +wise man reduces his affairs to a minimum, and his interest in the +affairs of his neighbor to less. But I thought it would interest you." + +"Thanks." + +The tone of the big man in the arm-chair was not dry. Karl Steinmetz +knew better than to indulge in that pastime. Dryness is apt to parch the +fount of expansiveness. + +De Chauxville's attention was apparently caught by an illustration in a +weekly paper lying open on the table near to him. Your shifty man likes +something to look at. He did not speak for some moments. Then he threw +the paper aside. + +"Who was Sydney Bamborough, at any rate?" he asked, with a careless +assumption of a slanginess which is affected by society in its decadent +periods. + +"So far as I remember," answered Steinmetz, "he was something in the +Diplomatic Service." + +"Yes, but what?" + +"My dear friend, you had better ask his widow when next you sit beside +her at dinner." + +"How do you know that I sat beside her at dinner?" + +"I did not know it," replied Steinmetz, with a quiet smile which left De +Chauxville in doubt as to whether he was very stupid or exceedingly +clever. + +"She seems to be very well off," said the Frenchman. + +"I am glad, as she is going to marry my master." + +De Chauxville laughed almost awkwardly, and for a fraction of a second +he changed countenance under Steinmetz's quiet eyes. + +"One can never know whom a woman intends to marry," said he carelessly, +"even if they can themselves, which I doubt. But I do not understand how +it is that she is so much better off, or appears to be, since the death +of her husband." + +"Ah, she is much better off, or appears to be, since the death of her +husband," said the stout man, in his slow Germanic way. + +"Yes." + +De Chauxville rose, stretched himself and yawned. Men are not always, be +it understood, on their best behavior at their club. + +"Good-night," he said shortly. + +"Good-night, my very dear friend." + +After the Frenchman had left, Karl Steinmetz remained quite motionless +and expressionless in his chair, until such time as he concluded that De +Chauxville was tired of watching him through the glass door. Then he +slowly sat forward in his chair and looked back over his shoulder. + +"Our friend," he muttered, "is afraid that Paul is going to marry this +woman. Now, I wonder why?" + +These two had met before in a past which has little or nothing to do +with the present narrative. They had disliked each other with a +completeness partly bred of racial hatred, partly the outcome of diverse +interests. But of late years they had drifted apart. There was no reason +why the friendship, such as it was, should not have lapsed into a mere +bowing acquaintance. For these men were foreigners, understanding fully +the value of the bow as an interchange of masculine courtesy. Englishmen +bow badly. + +Steinmetz knew that the Frenchman had recognized him before entering the +room. It was to be presumed that he had deliberately chosen to cross the +threshold, knowing that a recognition was inevitable. Karl Steinmetz +went farther. He suspected that De Chauxville had come to the Talleyrand +Club, having heard that he was in England, with the purpose in view of +seeking him out and warning him against Mrs. Sydney Bamborough. + +"It would appear," murmured the stout philosopher, "that we are about to +work together for the first time. But if there is one thing that I +dislike more than the enmity of Claude de Chauxville it is his +friendship." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +OLD HANDS + +Karl Steinmetz lifted his pen from the paper before him and scratched +his forehead with his forefinger. + +"Now, I wonder," he said aloud, "how many bushels there are in a ton. +Ach! how am I to find out? These English weights and measures, this +English money, when there is a metrical system!" + +He sat and hardly looked up when the clock struck seven. It was a quiet +room this in which he sat, the library of Paul's London house. The noise +of Piccadilly reached his ears as a faint roar, not entirely unpleasant, +but sociable and full of life. Accustomed as he was to the great silence +of Russia, where sound seems lost in space, the hum of a crowded +humanity was a pleasant change to this philosopher, who loved his kind +while fully recognizing its little weaknesses. + +While he sat there still wondering how many bushels of seed made a ton, +Paul Alexis came into the room. The younger man was in evening dress. He +looked at the clock rather eagerly. + +"Will you dine here?" he asked, and Steinmetz wheeled around in his +chair. "I am going out to dinner," he explained further. + +"Ah!" said the elder man. + +"I am going to Mrs. Sydney Bamborough's." + +Steinmetz bowed his head gravely. He said nothing. He was not looking at +Paul, but at the pattern of the carpet. There was a short silence. Then +Paul said, with entire simplicity: + +"I shall probably ask her to marry me." + +"And she will probably say yes." + +"I am not so sure about that," said Paul, with a laugh. For this man was +without conceit. He had gradually been forced to admit that there are +among men persons whose natural inclination is toward evil, persons who +value not the truth, nor hold by honesty. But he was guileless enough to +believe that women are not so. He actually believed that women are +truthful and open and honorable. He believes it still, which is somewhat +startling. There are a few such dullards yet. "I do not see why she +should," he went on gravely. He was standing by the empty fire-place, a +manly, upright figure; one who was not very clever, not brilliant at +all, somewhat slow in his speech, but sure, deadly sure, in the honesty +of his purpose. + +Karl Steinmetz looked at him and smiled openly, with the quaint air of +resignation that was his. + +"You have never seen her, eh?" enquired Paul. + +Steinmetz paused, then he told a lie, a good one, well told, +deliberately. + +"No." + +"We are going to the opera, Box F2. If you come in I shall have pleasure +in introducing you. The sooner you know each other the better. I am sure +you will approve." + +"I think you ought to marry money." + +"Why?" + +Steinmetz laughed. + +"Oh," he answered, "because every-body does who can. There is Catrina +Lanovitch, an estate as big as yours, adjoining yours. A great Russian +family, a good girl who--is willing." + +Paul laughed, a good wholesome laugh. + +"You are inclined to exaggerate my manifold and obvious qualifications," +he said. "Catrina is a very nice girl, but I do not think she would +marry me even if I asked her." + +"Which you do not intend to do." + +"Certainly not." + +"Then you will make an enemy of her," said Steinmetz quietly. "It may be +inconvenient, but that cannot be helped. A woman scorned--you know. +Shakspere or the Bible, I always mix them up. No, Paul; Catrina +Lanovitch is a dangerous enemy. She has been making love to you these +last four years, and you would have seen it if you had not been a fool! +I am afraid, my good Paul, you are a fool, God bless you for it!" + +"I think you are wrong," said Paul rather curtly; "not about me being a +fool, but about Catrina Lanovitch. If you are right, however, it only +makes me dislike her instead of being perfectly indifferent to her." + +His honest face flushed up finely, and he turned away to look at the +clock again. + +"I hate your way of talking about women, Steinmetz," he said. "You're a +cynical old beast, you know." + +"Heaven forbid, my dear prince! I admire all women--they are so clever, +so innocent, so pure-minded. Do not your English novels prove it, your +English stage, your newspapers, so high-toned? Who supports the +novelist, the play-wright, the actor, who but your English ladies?" + +"Better than being cooks--like your German ladies," retorted Paul +stoutly. "If you _are_ German this evening. Better than being cooks." + +"I doubt it! I very much doubt it, my friend. At what time shall I +present myself at Box F2 this evening?" + +"About nine--as soon as you like." + +Paul looked at the clock. The pointers lagged horribly. He knew that the +carriage was certain to be at the door, waiting in the quiet street with +its great restless horses, its two perfectly trained men, its gleaming +lamps and shining harness. But he would not allow himself the luxury of +being the first arrival. Paul had himself well in hand. At last it was +time to go. + +"See you later," he said. + +"Thank you--yes," replied Steinmetz, without looking up. + +So Paul Howard Alexis sallied forth to seek the hand of the lady of his +choice, and as he left his own door that lady was receiving Claude de +Chauxville in her drawing-room. The two had not met for some weeks--not +indeed since Etta had told the Frenchman that she could not marry him. +Her invitation to dine, couched in the usual friendly words, had been +the first move in that game commonly called "bluff." Claude de +Chauxville's acceptance of the same had been the second move. And these +two persons, who were not afraid of each other, shook hands with a +pleasant smile of greeting, while Paul hurried toward them through the +busy streets. + +"Am I forgiven--that I am invited to dinner?" asked De Chauxville +imperturbably, when the servant had left them alone. + +Etta was one of those women who are conscious of their dress. Some may +protest that a lady moving in such circles would not be so. But in all +circles women are only women, and in every class of life we meet such as +Etta Bamborough. Women who, while they talk, glance down and rearrange a +flower or a piece of lace. It is a mere habit, seemingly small and +unimportant; but it marks the woman and sets her apart. + +Etta was standing on the hearthrug, beautifully dressed--too beautifully +dressed, it is possible, to sit down. Her maid had a moment earlier +confessed that she could do no more, and Etta had come down stairs a +vision of luxury, of womanly loveliness. Nevertheless, there appeared to +be something amiss. She was so occupied with a flower at her shoulder +that she did not answer at once. + +"Forgiven for what?" she asked at length, in that preoccupied tone of +voice which tells wise men that only questions of dress will be +considered. + +De Chauxville shrugged his shoulders in his graceful Gallic way. + +"Mon Dieu!" he exclaimed. "For a crime which requires no excuse, and no +explanation other than a mirror." + +She looked up at him innocently. + +"A mirror?" + +"Yours. Have you forgiven me for falling in love with you? It is, I am +told, a crime that women sometimes condone." + +"It was no crime," she said. She had heard the wheels of Paul's +carriage. "It was a misfortune. Please let us forget that it ever +happened." + +De Chauxville twirled his neat mustache, looking keenly at her the +while. + +"You forget," he said. "But I--will remember." + +She did not answer, but turned with a smile to greet Paul. + +"I think you know each other," she said gracefully when she had shaken +hands, and the two men bowed. They were foreigners, be it understood. +There were three languages in which they could understand each other +with equal ease. + +"Where _is_ Maggie?" exclaimed Mrs. Bamborough. "She is always late." + +"When I am here," reflected De Chauxville. But he did not say it. + +Miss Delafield kept them waiting a few minutes, and during that time +Etta Sydney Bamborough gave a very fine display of prowess with the +double-stringed bow. When a man attempts to handle this delicate weapon, +he usually makes, if one may put it thus crudely, an ass of himself. He +generally succeeds in snapping one and probably both of the strings, +injuring himself most certainly in the process. + +Not so, however, this clever lady. She had a smile and an epigram for +Claude de Chauxville, a grave air of sympathetic interest in more +serious affairs for Paul Alexis. She was bright and amusing, guileless +and very worldly wise in the same breath--simple for Paul and a match +for De Chauxville, within the space of three seconds. Withal she was a +beautiful woman beautifully dressed. A thousand times too wise to scorn +her womanhood, as learned fools are prone to do in print and on platform +in these wordy days, but wielding the strongest power on earth, to wit, +that same womanhood, with daring and with skill. A learned woman is not +of much account in the world. A clever woman moves as much of it as lies +in her neighborhood--that is to say, as much as she cares to rule. For +women love power, but they do not care to wield it at a distance. + +Paul was asked to take Mrs. Sydney Bamborough down to dinner by the lady +herself. + +"Mon ami," she said in a quiet aside to De Chauxville, before making her +request, "it is the first time the prince dines here." + +She spoke in French. Maggie and Paul were talking together at the other +end of the room. De Chauxville bowed in silence. + +At dinner the conversation was necessarily general, and, as such, is not +worth reporting. No general conversation, one finds, is of much value +when set down in black and white. It is not even grammatical nowadays. +To be more correct, let us note that the talk lay between Etta and M. de +Chauxville, who had a famous supply of epigrams and bright nothings +delivered in such a way that they really sounded like wisdom. Etta was +equal to him, sometimes capping his sharp wit, sometimes contenting +herself with silvery laughter. Maggie Delafield was rather distraite, as +De Chauxville noted. The girl's dislike for him was an iron that entered +the quick of his vanity anew every time he saw her. There was no +petulance in the aversion, such as he had perceived with other maidens +who were only resenting a passing negligence or seeking to pique his +curiosity. This was a steady and, if you will, unmaidenly aversion, +which Maggie conscientiously attempted to conceal. + +Paul, it is to be feared, was what hostesses call heavy in hand. He +laughed where he saw something to laugh at, but not elsewhere, which in +some circles is considered morose and in bad form. He joined readily +enough in the conversation, but originated nothing. Those topics which +occupied his mind did not present themselves as suitable to this +occasion. His devotion to Etta was quite obvious, and he was simple +enough not to care that it should be so. + +Maggie was by turns quite silent and very talkative. When Paul and Etta +were speaking together she never looked at them, but fixedly at her own +plate, at a decanter, or a salt-cellar. When she spoke she addressed her +remarks--valueless enough in themselves--exclusively to the man she +disliked, Claude de Chauxville. + +There was something amiss in the pretty little room. There were shadows +seated around that pretty little table a quatre, beside the guests in +their pretty dresses and their black coats; silent cold shadows, who ate +nothing, while they chilled the dainty food and took the sweetness from +the succulent dishes. These shadows had crept in unawares, a silent +partie carree, to take their phantom places at the table, and only Etta +seemed able to jostle hers aside and talk it down. She took the whole +burden of the conversation upon her pretty shoulders, and bore it +through the little banquet with unerring skill and unflinching good +humor. In the midst of her merriest laughter, the clever gray eyes would +flit from one man's face to the other. Paul had been brought here to ask +her to marry him. Claude de Chauxville had been invited that he might be +tacitly presented to his successful rival. Maggie was there because she +was a woman and made the necessary fourth. Puppets all, and two of them +knew it. And some of us know it all our lives. We are living, moving +puppets. We let ourselves be dragged here and pushed there, the victim +of one who happens to have more energy of mind, a greater steadfastness +of purpose, a keener grasp of the situation called life. We smirk and +smile, and lose the game because we have begun by being anvils, and are +afraid of trying to be hammers. + +But Etta Sydney Bamborough had to deal with metal of a harder grain than +the majority of us. Claude de Chauxville was for the moment forced to +assume the humble role of anvil because he had no choice. Maggie +Delafield was passive for the time being, because that which would make +her active was no more than a tiny seedling in her heart. The girl bid +fair to be one of those women who develop late, who ripen slowly, like +the best fruit. + +During the drive to the opera house the two women in Etta's snug little +brougham were silent. Etta had her thoughts to occupy her. She was at +the crucial point of a difficult game. She could not afford to allow +even a friend to see so much as the corners of the cards she held. + +In the luxurious box it was easily enough arranged--Etta and Paul +together in front, De Chauxville and Maggie at the other corner of the +box. + +"I have asked my friend Karl Steinmetz to come in during the evening," +said Paul to Etta when they were seated. "He is anxious to make your +acquaintance. He is my--prime minister over in Russia." + +Etta smiled graciously. + +"It is kind of him," she answered, "to be anxious to make my +acquaintance." + +She was apparently listening to the music; in reality she was hurrying +back mentally over half a dozen years. She had never had much to do with +the stout German philosopher, but she knew enough of him to scorn the +faint hope that he might have forgotten her name and her individuality. +Etta Bamborough had never been disconcerted in her life yet; this +incident came very near to bringing about the catastrophe. + +"At what time," she asked, "is he coming in?" + +"About half-past nine." + +Etta had a watch on a bracelet on her arm. Such women always know the +time. + +It was a race, and Etta won it. She had only half an hour. De Chauxville +was there, and Maggie with her quiet, honest eyes. But the widow of +Sydney Bamborough made Paul ask her to be his wife, and she promised to +give him his answer later. She did it despite a thousand difficulties +and more than one danger--accomplished it with, as the sporting people +say, plenty to spare--before the door behind them was opened by the +attendant, and Karl Steinmetz, burly, humorously imperturbable and +impenetrable, stood smiling gravely on the situation. + +He saw Claude de Chauxville, and before the Frenchman had turned round +the expression on Steinmetz's large and placid countenance had changed +from the self-consciousness usually preceding an introduction to one of +a dim recognition. + +"I have had the pleasure of meeting madame somewhere before, I think. In +St. Petersburg, was it not?" + +Etta, composed and smiling, said that it was so, and introduced him to +Maggie. De Chauxville took the opportunity of leaving that young lady's +side, and placing himself near enough to Paul and Etta to completely +frustrate any further attempts at confidential conversation. + +For a moment Steinmetz and Paul were left standing together. + +"I have had a telegram," said Steinmetz in Russian. "We must go back to +Tver. There is cholera again. When can you come?" + +Beneath his heavy mustache Paul bit his lip. + +"In three days," he answered. + +"True? You will come with me?" enquired Steinmetz, under cover of the +clashing music. + +"Of course." + +Steinmetz looked at him curiously. He glanced toward Etta, but he said +nothing. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +SAFE! + +The season wore on to its perihelion--a period, the scientific books +advise us, of the highest clang and crash of speed and whirl, of the +greatest brilliancy and deepest glow of a planet's existence. The +business of life, the pursuit of pleasure, and the scientific demolition +of our common enemy, Time, received all the care which such matters +require. + +Debutantes bloomed and were duly culled by aged connoisseurs of such +wares, or by youthful aspirants with the means to pay the piper in the +form of a handsome settlement. The usual number of young persons of the +gentler sex entered the lists of life, with the mistaken notion that it +is love that makes the world go round, to ride away from the joust wiser +and sadder women. + +There was the same round of conventional pleasures which the reader and +his humble servant have mixed in deeply or dilettante, according to his +taste or capacity for such giddy work. There was withal the usual +heart-burning, heart-bartering, heart--anything you will but breaking. +For we have not breaking hearts among us to-day. Providence, it would +seem, has run short of the commodity, and deals out only a few among a +number of persons. + +Amid the whirl of rout, and ball, and picnic, race-meeting, polo-match, +and what-not, Paul Howard Alexis stalked misunderstood, distrusted; an +object of ridicule to some, of pity to others, of impatience to all. A +man, if it please you, with a purpose--a purpose at the latter end of +the nineteenth century, when most of us, having decided that there is no +future, take it upon ourselves to despise the present. + +Paul soon discovered that he was found out--at no time a pleasant +condition of things, except, indeed, when callers are about. That which +Eton and Cambridge had failed to lay their fingers upon, every +match-making mother had found out for herself in a week. That the +discovery had been carefully kept in each maternal breast, it is +needless to relate. Ces dames are not confidential upon such matters +between themselves. When they have scented their game they stalk him, +and if possible bag him in a feline solitude which has no fears for +stout, ambitious hearts. The fear is that some other prowling mother of +an eligible maiden may hit upon the same scent. + +Paul was invited to quiet dinners and a little music, to quiet dinners +without the music, to a very little music and no dinner whatever. The +number of ladies who had a seat in a box thrown upon their hands at the +last minute--a seat next to Angelina in her new pink, or Blanche in her +sweet poult de soie--the number of these ladies one can only say was +singular, because politeness forbids one to suggest that it was +suspicious. Soft cheeks became rosy at his approach--partly, perhaps, +because soft and dainty toes in satin slippers were trodden upon with +maternal emphasis at that moment. Soft eyes looked love into eyes that, +alas! only returned preoccupation. There was always room on an +engagement card for Paul's name. There was always space in the smallest +drawing-room for Paul's person, vast though the latter was. There +was--fond mothers conveyed it to him subtly after supper and +champagne--an aching void in more than one maiden heart which was his +exact fit. + +But Paul was at once too simple and too clever for matron and maid +alike. Too simple, because he failed to understand the inner meaning of +many pleasant things that the guileless fair one said to him. Too +clever, because he met the subtle matron with the only arm she feared, a +perfect honesty. And when at last he obtained his answer from the coy +and hesitating Etta, there was no gossip in London who could put forward +a just cause or impediment. + +Etta gave him the answer one evening at the house of a mutual friend, +where a multitude of guests had assembled ostensibly to hear certain +celebrated singers, apparently to whisper recriminations on their +entertainer's champagne. It was a dull business--except, indeed, for +Paul Howard Alexis. As for the lady--the only lady his honest, simple +world contained--who shall say? Inwardly she may have been in trembling, +coy alarm, in breathless, blushing hesitation. Outwardly she was, +however, exceedingly composed and self-possessed. She had been as +careful as ever of her toilet--as hard to please; as--dare we say +snappish with her maids? The beautiful hair had no one of its aureate +threads out of place. The pink of her shell-like cheek was steady, +unruffled, fair to behold. Her whole demeanor was admirable in its +well-bred repose. Did she love him? Was it in her power to love any man? +Not the humble chronicler--not any man, perhaps, and but few women--can +essay an answer. Suffice it that she accepted him. In exchange for the +title he could give her, the position he could assure to her, the wealth +he was ready to lavish upon her, and, lastly, let us mention, in the +effete, old-fashioned way, the love he bore her--in exchange for these +she gave him her hand. + +Thus Etta Sydney Bamborough was enabled to throw down her cards at last +and win the game she had played so skilfully. The widow of an obscure +little Foreign Office clerk, she might have been a baroness, but she put +the smaller honor aside and aspired to a prince. Behind the gay smile +there must have been a quick and resourceful brain, daring to scheme, +intrepid in execution. Within the fair breast there must have been a +heart resolute, indomitable, devoid of weak scruple. Mark the last. It +is the scruple that keeps the reader and his humble servant from being +greater men than they are. + +"Yes," says Etta, allowing Paul to take her perfectly gloved hand in his +great, steady grasp; "yes, I have my answer ready." + +They were alone in the plashy solitude of an inner conservatory, between +the songs of the great singers. She was half afraid of this strong man, +for he had strange ways with him--not uncouth, but unusual and somewhat +surprising in a finnicking, emotionless generation. + +"And what is it?" whispers Paul eagerly. Ah! what fools men are--what +fools they always will be! + +Etta gave a little nod, looking shamefacedly down at the pattern of her +lace fan. + +"Is that it?" he asked breathlessly. + +The nod was repeated, and Paul Howard Alexis was thereby made the +happiest man in England. She half expected him to take her in his arms, +despite the temporary nature of their solitude. Perhaps she half wished +it; for behind her business-like and exceedingly practical appreciation +of his wealth there lurked a very feminine curiosity and interest in his +feelings--a curiosity somewhat whetted by the manifold differences that +existed between him and the society lovers with whom she had hitherto +played the pretty game. + +But Paul contented himself with raising the gloved fingers to his lips, +restrained by a feeling of respect for her which she would not have +understood and probably did not merit. + +"But," she said with a sudden smile, "I take no responsibility. I am not +very sure that it will be a success. I can only try to make you +happy--goodness knows if I shall succeed!" + +"You have only to be yourself to do that," he answered, with lover-like +promptness and a blindness which is the special privilege of those happy +fools. + +She gave a strange little smile. + +"But how do I know that our lives will harmonize in the least? I know +nothing of your daily existence; where you live--where you want to +live." + +"I should like to live mostly in Russia," he answered honestly. + +Her expression did not change. It merely fixed itself as one sees the +face of a watching cat fix itself, when the longed for mouse shows a +whisker. + +"Ah!" she said lightly, confident in her own power; "that will arrange +itself later." + +"I am glad I am rich," said Paul simply, "because I shall be able to +give you all you want. There are many little things that add to a +woman's comfort; I shall find them out and see that you have them." + +"Are you so very rich, Paul?" she asked, with an innocent wonder. "But I +don't think it matters; do you? I do not think that riches have much to +do with happiness." + +"No," he answered. He was not a person with many theories upon life or +happiness or such matters--which, by the way, are in no way affected by +theories. By taking thought we cannot add a cubit to the height of our +happiness. We can only undermine its base by too searching an analysis +of that upon which it is built. + +So Paul replied "No," and took pleasure in looking at her, as any lover +must needs have done. + +"Except, of course," she said, "that one may do good with great riches." + +She gave a little sigh, as if deploring the misfortune that hitherto her +own small means had fallen short of the happy point at which one may +begin doing good. + +"Are you so very rich, Paul?" she repeated, as if she was rather afraid +of those riches and mistrusted them. + +"Oh, I suppose so. Horribly rich!" + +She had withdrawn her hand. She gave it to him again, with a pretty +movement usually understood to indicate bashfulness. + +"It can't be helped," she said. "We"--she dwelt upon the word ever so +slightly--"we can perhaps do a little good with it." + +Then suddenly he blurted out all his wishes on this point--his quixotic +aims, the foolish imaginings of a too chivalrous soul. She listened, +prettily eager, sweetly compassionate of the sorrows of the peasantry +whom he made the object of his simple pity. Her gray eyes contracted +with horror when he told her of the misery with which he was too +familiar. Her pretty lips quivered when he told her of little children +born only to starve because their mothers were starving. She laid her +gloved fingers gently on his when he recounted tales of strong men--good +fathers in their simple, barbarous way--who were well content that the +children should die rather than be saved to pass a miserable existence, +without joy, without hope. + +She lifted her eyes with admiration to his face when he told her what he +hoped to do, what he dreamed of accomplishing. She even made a few +eager, heartfelt suggestions, fitly coming from a woman--touched with a +woman's tenderness, lightened by a woman's sympathy and knowledge. + +It was in its way a tragedy, the picture we are called to look +upon--these newly made lovers, not talking of themselves, as is the +time-honored habit of such. Surrounded by every luxury, both high-born, +refined, and wealthy; both educated, both intelligent. He, +simple-minded, earnest, quite absorbed in his happiness, because that +happiness seemed to fall in so easily with the busier, and, as some +might say, the nobler side of his ambition. She, failing to understand +his aspirations, thinking only of his wealth. + +"But," she said at length, "shall you--we--be allowed to do all this? I +thought that such schemes were not encouraged in Russia. It is such a +pity to pauperize the people." + +"You cannot pauperize a man who has absolutely nothing," replied Paul. +"Of course, we shall have difficulties; but, together, I think we shall +be able to overcome them." + +Etta smiled sympathetically, and the smile finished up, as it were, with +a gleam very like amusement. She had been vouchsafed for a moment a +vision of herself in some squalid Russian village, in a hideous +Russian-made tweed dress, dispensing the necessaries of life to a people +only little raised above the beasts of the field. The vision made her +smile, as well it might. In Petersburg life might be tolerable for a +little in the height of the season--for a few weeks of the brilliant +Northern winter--but in no other part of Russia could she dream of +dwelling. + +They sat and talked of their future as lovers will, knowing as little of +it as any of us, building up castles in the air, such edifices as we +have all constructed, destined, no doubt, to the same rapid collapse as +some of us have quailed under. Paul, with lamentable honesty, talked +almost as much of his stupid peasants as of his beautiful companion, +which pleased her not too well. Etta, with a strange persistence, +brought the conversation ever back and back to the house in London, the +house in Petersburg, the great grim castle in the Government of Tver, +and the princely rent-roll. And once on the subject of Tver, Paul could +scarce be brought to leave it. + +"I am going back there," he said at length. + +"When?" she asked, with a composure which did infinite credit to her +modest reserve. Her love was jealously guarded. It lay too deep to be +disturbed by the thought that her lover would leave her soon. + +"To-morrow," was his answer. + +She did not speak at once. Should she try the extent of her power over +him? Never was lover so chivalrous, so respectful, so sincere. Should +she gauge the height of her supremacy? If it proved less powerful than +she suspected, she would at all events be credited with a very natural +aversion to parting from him. + +"Paul," she said, "you cannot do that. Not so soon. I cannot let you +go." + +He flushed up to the eyes suddenly, like a girl. There was a little +pause, and the color slowly left his face. Somehow that pause frightened +Etta. + +"I am afraid I must go," he said gravely at length. + +"Must--a prince?" + +"It is on that account," he replied. + +"Then I am to conclude that you are more devoted to your peasants than +to--me?" + +He assured her to the contrary. She tried once again, but nothing could +move him from his decision. Etta was perhaps a small-minded person, and +as such failed to attach due importance to this proof that her power +over him was limited. It ceased, in fact, to exist as soon as it touched +that strong sense of duty which is to be found in many men and in +remarkably few women. + +It almost seemed as if the abrupt departure of her lover was in some +sense a relief to Etta Sydney Bamborough. For, while he, lover-like, was +grave and earnest during the small remainder of the evening, she +continued to be sprightly and gay. The last he saw of her was her +smiling face at the window as her carriage drove away. + +Arrived at the little house in Upper Brook Street, Maggie and Etta went +into the drawing-room, where biscuits and wine were set out. Their maids +came and took their cloaks away, leaving them alone. + +"Paul and I are engaged," said Etta suddenly. She was picking the +withered flowers from her dress and throwing them carelessly on the +table. + +Maggie was standing with her back to her, with her two hands on the +mantel-piece. She was about to turn round when she caught sight of her +own face in the mirror, and that which she saw there made her change her +intention. + +"I am not surprised," she said, in an even voice, standing like a +statue. "I congratulate you. I think he is--nice." + +"You also think he is too good for me," said Etta, with a little laugh. +There was something in that laugh--a ring of wounded vanity, the wounded +vanity of a bad woman who is in the presence of her superior. + +"No!" answered Maggie slowly, tracing the veins of the marble across the +mantel-piece. "No--o, not that." + +Etta looked up at her. It was rather singular that she did not ask what +Maggie did think. Perhaps she was afraid of a certain British honesty +which characterized the girl's thought and speech. Instead she rose and +indulged in a yawn which may have been counterfeit, but it was a good +counterfeit. + +"Will you have a biscuit?" she said. + +"No, thanks." + +"Then shall we go to bed?" + +"Yes." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +THE PRINCE + +The village of Osterno, lying, or rather scrambling, along the banks of +the river Oster, is at no time an exhilarating spot. It is a large +village, numbering over nine hundred souls, as the board affixed to its +first house testifieth in incomprehensible Russian figures. + +A "soul," be it known, is a different object in the land of the Czars to +that vague protoplasm about which our young persons think such mighty +thoughts, our old men write such famous big books. A soul is namely a +man--in Russia the women have not yet begun to seek their rights and +lose their privileges. A man is therefore a "soul" in Russia, and as +such enjoys the doubtful privilege of contributing to the land-tax and +to every other tax. In compensation for the first-named impost he is +apportioned his share of the common land of the village, and by the +cultivation of this ekes out an existence which would be valueless if he +were a teetotaller. It is melancholy to have to record this fact in the +pages of a respectable volume like the present; but facts--as the orator +who deals in fiction is ever ready to announce--facts cannot be ignored. +And any man who has lived in Russia, has dabbled in Russian humanity, +and noted the singular unattractiveness of Russian life--any such man +can scarcely deny the fact that if one deprives the moujik of his +privilege of getting gloriously and frequently intoxicated, one takes +away from that same moujik the one happiness of his existence. + +That the Russian peasant is by nature one of the cheeriest, the +noisiest, and lightest-hearted of men is only another proof of the +Creator's power; for this dimly lighted "soul" has nothing to cheer him +on his forlorn way but the memory of the last indulgence in strong drink +and the hope of more to come. He is harassed by a ruthless +tax-collector; he is shut off from the world by enormous distances over +impracticable roads. When the famine comes, and come it assuredly will, +the moujik has no alternative but to stay where he is and starve. Since +Alexander II. of philanthropic memory made the Russian serf a free man, +the blessings of freedom have been found to resolve themselves chiefly +into a perfect liberty to die of starvation, of cold, or of dire +disease. When he was a serf this man was of some small value to some +one; now he is of no consequence to any one whatsoever except himself, +and, with considerable intelligence, he sets but small store upon his +own existence. Freedom, in fact, came to him before he was ready for it; +and, hampered as he has been by petty departmental tyranny, governmental +neglect, and a natural stupidity, he has made very small progress toward +a mental independence. All that he has learnt to do is to hate his +tyrants. When famine urges him, he goes blindly, helplessly, dumbly, and +tries to take by force that which is denied by force. + +With us in England the poor man raises up his voice and cries aloud when +he wants something. He always wants something--never work, by the +way--and therefore his voice pervades the atmosphere. He has his evening +newspaper, which is dear at the moderate sum of a halfpenny. He has his +professional organizers, and his Trafalgar Square. He even has his +members of Parliament. He does no work, and he does not starve. In his +generation the poor man thinks himself wise. In Russia, however, things +are managed differently. The poor man is under the heel of the rich. +Some day there will be in Russia a Terror, but not yet. Some day the +moujik will erect unto himself a rough sort of a guillotine, but not in +our day. Perhaps some of us who are young men now may dimly read in our +dotage of a great upheaval beside which the Terror of France will be +tame and uneventful. Who can tell? When a country begins to grow, its +mental development is often startlingly rapid. + +But we have to do with Russia of to-day, and the village of Osterno in +the Government of Tver. Not a "famine" Government, mind you! For these +are the Volga Provinces--Samara, Pensa, Voronish, Vintka, and a dozen +others. No! Tver the civilized, the prosperous, the manufacturing +centre. + +Osterno is built of wood. Should it once fairly catch alight in a high +wind, all that will be left of this town will be a few charred timbers +and some dazed human beings. The inhabitants know their own danger, and +endeavor to meet it in their fatalistic manner. Each village has its +fire organization. Each "soul" has his appointed place, his appointed +duty, and his special contribution--be it bucket or rope or ladder--to +bring to the conflagration. But no one ever dreams of being sober and +vigilant at the right time, so the organization, like many larger such, +is a broken reed. + +The street, bounded on either side by low wooden houses, is, singularly +enough, well paved. This, the traveller is told, by the tyrant Prince +Pavlo, who made the road because he did not like driving over ruts and +through puddles--the usual Russian rural thoroughfare. Not because +Prince Pavlo wanted to give the peasants work, not because he wanted to +save them from starvation--not at all, although, in the gratification of +his own whim, he happened to render those trifling services; but merely +because he was a great "barin"--a prince who could have any thing he +desired. Had not the other barin--Steinmetz by name--superintended the +work? Steinmetz the hated, the loathed, the tool of the tyrant whom they +never see. Ask the "starost"--the mayor of the village. He knows the +barins, and hates them. + +Michael Roon, the starosta or elder of Osterno, president of the Mir, or +village council, principal shopkeeper, mayor and only intelligent soul +of the nine hundred, probably had Tartar blood in his veins. To this +strain may be attributed the narrow Tartar face, the keen black eyes, +the short, spare figure which many remember to this day, although +Michael Roon has been dead these many years. + +Removed far above the majority of his fellow-villagers in intelligence +and energy, this man administered the law of his own will to his +colleagues on the village council. + +It was late in the autumn, one evening remembered by many for its +death-roll, that the starosta was standing at the door of his small +shop. He was apparently idle. He never sold vodka, and the majority of +the villagers were in one of the three thriving "kabaks" which drove a +famous trade in strong drink and weak tea. It was a very hot evening. +The sun had set in a pink haze which was now turning to an unhealthy +gray, and spreading over the face of the western sky like the shadow of +death across the human countenance. + +The starosta shook his head forebodingly. It was cholera weather. +Cholera had come to Osterno. Had come, the starosta thought, to stay. It +had settled down in Osterno, and nothing but the winter frosts would +kill it, when hunger-typhus would undoubtedly succeed it. + +Therefore the starosta shook his head at the sunset, and forgot to +regret the badness of the times from a commercial point of view. He had +done all he could. He had notified to the Zemstvo the condition of his +village. He had made the usual appeal for help, which had been forwarded +in the usual way to Tver, where it had apparently been received with the +usual philosophic silence. + +But Michael Roon had also telegraphed to Karl Steinmetz, and since the +despatch of this message had the starosta dropped into the habit of +standing at his doorway in the evening, with his hands clasped behind +his back and his beady black eyes bent westward along the prince's +high-road. + +On the particular evening with which we have to do the beady eyes looked +not in vain; for presently, far along the road, appeared a black speck +like an insect crawling over the face of a map. + +"Ah!" said the starosta. "Ah! he never fails." + +Presently a neighbor dropped in to buy some of the dried leaf which the +starosta, honest tradesman, called tea. He found the purveyor of +Cathay's produce at the door. + +"Ah!" he said, in a voice thick with vodka. "You see something on the +road?" + +"Yes." + +"A cart?" + +"No, a carriage. It moves too quickly." + +A strange expression came over the peasant's face, at no time a pleasing +physiognomy. The bloodshot eyes flared up suddenly like a smouldering +flame in brown paper. The unsteady, drink-sodden lips twitched. The man +threw up his shaggy head, upon which hair and beard mingled in unkempt +confusion. He glared along the road with eyes and face aglow with a +sullen, beast-like hatred. + +"A carriage! Then it is for the castle." + +"Possibly," answered the starosta. + +"The prince--curse him, curse his mother's soul, curse his wife's +offspring!" + +"Yes," said the starosta quietly. "Yes, curse him and all his works. +What is it you want, little father--tea?" + +He turned into the shop and served his customer, duly inscribing the +debt among others in a rough, cheap book. + +The word soon spread that a carriage was coming along the road from +Tver. All the villagers came to the doors of their dilapidated wooden +huts. Even the kabaks were emptied for a time. As the vehicle approached +it became apparent that the horses were going at a great pace; not only +was the loose horse galloping, but also the pair in the shafts. The +carriage was an open one, an ordinary North Russian travelling carriage, +not unlike the vehicle we call the victoria, set on high wheels. + +Beside the driver on the box sat another servant. In the open carriage +sat one man only, Karl Steinmetz. + +As he passed through the village a murmur of many voices followed him, +not quite drowned by the rattle of his wheels, the clatter of the +horses' feet. The murmur was a curse. Karl Steinmetz heard it +distinctly. It made him smile with a queer expression beneath his great +gray mustache. + +The starosta, standing in his door-way, saw the smile. He raised his +voice with his neighbors and cursed. As Steinmetz passed him he gave a +little jerk of the head toward the castle. The jerk of the head might +have been due to an inequality of the road, but it might also convey an +appointment. The keen, haggard face of Michael Roon showed no sign of +mutual understanding. And the carriage rattled on through the stricken +village. + +Two hours later, when it was quite dark, a closed carriage, with two +bright lamps flaring into the night, passed through the village toward +the castle at a gallop. + +"It is the prince," the peasants said, crouching in their low door-ways. +"It is the prince. We know his bells--they are of silver--and we shall +starve during the winter. Curse him--curse him!" + +They raised their heads and listened to the galloping feet with the +patient, dumb despair which is the curse of the Slavonic race. Some of +them crept to their doors, and, looking up, saw that the castle windows +were ablaze with light. If Paul Howard Alexis was a plain English +gentleman in London, he was also a great prince in his country, keeping +up a princely state, enjoying the gilded solitude that belongs to the +high-born. His English education had educed a strict sense of +discipline, and as in England, and, indeed, all through his life, so in +Russia did he attempt to do his duty. + +The carriage rattled up to the brilliantly lighted door, which stood +open, and within, on either side of the broad entrance-hall, the +servants stood to welcome their master. A strange, picturesque, motley +crew: the majordomo, in his black coat, and beside him the other +house-servants--tall, upright fellows, in their bright livery. Beyond +them the stable-men and keepers, a little army, in red cloth tunics, +with wide trousers tucked into high boots, all holding their fur caps in +their hands, standing stiffly at attention, clean, honest, and not too +intelligent. + +The castle of Osterno is built on the lines of many Russian country +seats, and not a few palaces in Moscow. The Royal Palace in the Kremlin +is an example. A broad entrance-hall, at the back of which a staircase +as broad stretches up to a gallery, around which the dwelling-rooms are +situated. At the head of the staircase, directly facing the +entrance-hall, high folding doors disclose the drawing-room, which is +almost a throne room. All gorgeous, lofty, spacious, as only Russian +houses are. Truly this northern empire, this great white land, is a +country in which it is good to be an emperor, a prince, a noble, but not +a poor man. + +Paul passed through the ranks of his retainers, himself a head taller +than the tallest footman, a few inches broader than the sturdiest +keeper. He acknowledged the low bows by a quick nod, and passed up the +staircase. Steinmetz--in evening dress, wearing the insignia of one or +two orders which he had won in the more active days of his earlier +diplomatic life--was waiting for him at the head of the stairs. + +The two men bowed gravely to each other. Steinmetz threw open the door +of the great room and stood aside. The prince passed on, and the German +followed him, each playing his part gravely, as men in high places are +called to do. When the door was closed behind them and they were alone, +there was no relaxation, no smile of covert derision. These men knew the +Russian character thoroughly. There is, be it known, no more +impressionable man on the face of God's earth. Paul and Steinmetz had +played their parts so long that these came to be natural to them as soon +as they passed the Volga. We are all so in a minor degree. In each +house, to each of our friends, we are unconsciously different in some +particular. One man holds us in awe, and we unconsciously instil that +feeling. Another considers us a buffoon, and, lo! we are exceedingly +funny. + +Paul and Steinmetz knew that the people around them in Osterno were +somewhat like the dumb and driven beast. These peasants required +overawing by a careful display of pomp--an unrelaxed dignity. The line +of demarcation between the noble and the peasant is so marked in the +land of the Czar that it is difficult for Englishmen to realize or +believe it. It is like the line that is drawn between us and our dogs. +If we suppose it possible that dogs could be taught to act and think for +themselves; if we take such a development as practicable, and consider +the possibilities of social upheaval lying behind such an education, we +can in a minute degree realize the problem which Prince Pavlo Alexis and +all his fellow-nobles will be called upon to solve within the lifetime +of men already born. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +THE MOSCOW DOCTOR + +"Colossal!" exclaimed Steinmetz, beneath his breath. With a little trick +of the tongue he transferred his cigar from the right-hand to the +left-hand corner of his mouth. "Colossal--l!" he repeated. + +For a moment Paul looked up from the papers spread out on the table +before him--looked with the preoccupied air of a man who is adding up +something in his mind. Then he returned to his occupation. He had been +at this work for four hours without a break. It was nearly one o'clock +in the morning. Since dinner Karl Steinmetz had consumed no less than +five cigars, while he had not spoken five words. These two men, locked +in a small room in the middle of the castle of Osterno--a room with no +window, but which gained its light from the clear heaven by a shaft and +a skylight on the roof--locked in thus they had been engaged in the +addition of an enormous mass of figures. Each sheet had been carefully +annotated and added by Steinmetz, and as each was finished he handed it +to his companion. + +"Is that fool never coming?" asked Paul, with an impatient glance at the +clock. + +"Our very dear friend the starosta," replied Steinmetz, "is no slave to +time. He is late." + +The room had the appearance of an office. There were two safes--square +chests such as we learn to associate with the name of Griffiths in this +country. There was a huge writing-table--a double table--at which Paul +and Steinmetz were seated. There were sundry stationery cases and an +almanac or so suspended on the walls, which were oaken panels. A large +white stove--common to all Russian rooms--stood against the wall. The +room had no less than three doors, with a handle on no one of them. Each +door opened with a key, like a cupboard. + +Steinmetz had apparently finished his work. He was sitting back in his +chair, contemplating his companion with a little smile. It apparently +tickled some obtuse Teutonic sense of humor to see this prince doing +work which is usually assigned to clerks--working out statistics and +abstruse calculations as to how much food is required to keep body and +soul together. + +The silence of the room was almost oppressive. A Russian village after +nightfall is the quietest human habitation on earth. For the moujik--the +native of a country which will some day supply the universe with +petroleum--cannot afford to light up his humble abode, and therefore +sits in darkness. Had the village of Osterno possessed the liveliness of +a Spanish hamlet, the sound of voices and laughter could not have +reached the castle perched high up on the rock above. + +But Osterno was asleep: the castle servants had long gone to rest, and +the great silence of Russia wrapped its wings over all. "When, +therefore, the clear, coughing bark of a wolf was heard, both occupants +of the little room looked up. The sound was repeated, and Steinmetz +slowly rose from his seat. + +"I can quite believe that our friend is able to call a wolf or a lynx to +him," he said. "He does it uncannily well." + +"I have seen him do so," said Paul, without looking up. "But it is a +common enough accomplishment among the keepers." + +Steinmetz had left the room before he finished speaking. One of the +doors of this little room communicated with a large apartment used as a +secretary's office, and through this by a small staircase with a side +entrance to the castle. By this side entrance the stewards of the +different outlying estates were conducted to the presence of the +resident secretary--a German selected and overawed by Karl Steinmetz--a +mere calculating machine of a man, with whom we have no affairs to +transact. + +Before many minutes had elapsed Steinmetz came back, closely followed by +the starosta, whose black eyes twinkled and gleamed in the sudden light +of the lamp. He dropped on his knees when he saw Paul--suddenly, +abjectly, like an animal, in his dumb attitude of deprecation. + +With a jerk of his head Paul bade him rise, which the man did, standing +back against the panelled wall, placing as great a distance between +himself and the prince as the size of the room would allow. + +"Well," said Paul curtly, almost roughly, "I hear you are in trouble in +the village." + +"The cholera has come, Excellency." + +"Many deaths?" + +"To-day--eleven." + +Paul looked up sharply. + +"And the doctor?" + +"He has not come yet, Excellency. I sent for him--a fortnight ago. The +cholera is at Oseff, at Dolja, at Kalisheffa. It is everywhere. He has +forty thousand souls under his care. He has to obey the Zemstvo, to go +where they tell him. He takes no notice of me." + +"Yes," interrupted Paul, "I know. And the people themselves, do they +attempt to understand it--to follow out my instructions?" + +The starosta spread out his thin hands in deprecation. He cringed a +little as he stood. He had Jewish blood in his veins, which, while it +raised him above his fellows in Osterno, carried with it the usual +tendency to cringe. It is in the blood; it is part of what the people +who stood without Pilate's palace took upon themselves and upon their +children. + +"Your Excellency," he said, "knows what they are. It is slow. They make +no progress. For them one disease is as another. 'Bog dal e Bog vzial,' +they say. 'God gave and God took!'" + +He paused, his black eyes flashing from one face to the other. + +"Only the Moscow doctor, Excellency," he said significantly, "can manage +them." + +Paul shrugged his shoulders. He rose from his seat, glancing at +Steinmetz, who was looking on in silence, with his queer, mocking smile. + +"I will go with you now," he said. "It is late enough already." + +The starosta bowed very low, but he said nothing. + +Paul went to a cupboard and took from it an old fur coat, dragged at the +seams, stained about the cuffs a dull brown--doctors know the color. +Such stains have hanged a man before now, for they are the marks of +blood. Paul put on this coat. He took a long, soft silken scarf such as +Russians wear in winter, and wrapped it round his throat, quite +concealing the lower part of his face. He crammed a fur cap down over +his ears. + +"Come," he said. + +Karl Steinmetz accompanied them down stairs, carrying a lamp in one +hand. He closed the door behind them, but did not lock it. Then he went +upstairs again to the quiet little room, where he sat down in a deep +chair. He looked at the open door of the cupboard from which Paul Alexis +had taken his simple disguise, with a large, tolerant humor. + +"El Senor Don Quixote de la Mancha," he said sleepily. + +It is said that to a doctor nothing is shocking and nothing is +disgusting. But doctors are, after all, only men of stomach like the +rest of us, and it is to be presumed that what nauseates one will +nauseate the other. When the starosta unceremoniously threw open the +door of the miserable cabin belonging to Vasilli Tula, Paul gave a +little gasp. The foul air pouring out of the noisome den was such that +it seemed impossible that human lungs could assimilate it. This Vasilli +Tula was a notorious drunkard, a discontent, a braggart. The Nihilist +propaganda had in the early days of that mistaken mission reached him +and unsettled his discontented mind. Misfortune seemed to pursue him. In +higher grades of life than his there are men who, like Tula, make a +profession of misfortune. + +Paul stumbled down two steps. The cottage was dark. The starosta had +apparently trodden on a chicken, which screamed shrilly and fluttered +about in the dark with that complete abandon which belongs to chickens, +sheep, and some women. + +"Have you no light?" cried the starosta. + +Paul retreated to the top step, where he had a short-lived struggle with +a well-grown calf which had been living in the room with the family, and +evinced a very creditable desire for fresh air. + +"Yes, yes, we have a little petroleum," said a voice. "But we have no +matches." + +The starosta struck a light. + +"I have brought the Moscow doctor to see you." + +"The Moscow doctor!" cried several voices. "Sbogom--sbogom! God be with +you!" + +In the dim light the whole of the floor seemed to get up and shake +itself. There were at least seven persons sleeping in the hut. Two of +them did not get up. One was dead. The other was dying of cholera. + +A heavily built man reached down from the top of the brick stove a cheap +tin paraffin lamp, which he handed to the starosta. By the light of this +Paul came again into the hut. The floor was filthy, as may be imagined, +for beasts and human beings lived here together. + +The man--Vasilli Tula--threw himself down on his knees, clawing at +Paul's coat with great unwashed hands, whining out a tale of sorrow and +misfortune. In a moment they were all on their knees, clinging to him, +crying to him for help: Tula himself, a wild-looking Slav of fifty or +thereabouts; his wife, haggard, emaciated, horrible to look upon, for +she was toothless and almost blind; two women and a loutish boy of +sixteen. + +Paul pushed his way, not unkindly, toward the corner where the two +motionless forms lay half concealed by a mass of ragged sheepskin. + +"Here," he said, "this woman is dead. Take her out. When will you learn +to be clean? This boy may live--with care. Bring the light closer, +little mother. So, it is well. He will live. Come, don't sit crying. +Take all these rags out and burn them. All of you go out. It is a fine +night. You are better in the cart-shed than here. Here, you, Tula, go +round with the starosta to his store. He will give you clean blankets." + +They obeyed him blindly. Tula and one of the young women (his daughters) +dragged the dead body, which was that of a very old woman, out into the +night. The starosta had retired to the door-way when the lamp was +lighted, his courage having failed him. The air was foul with the reek +of smoke and filth and infection. + +"Come, Vasilli Tula," the village elder said, with suspicious eagerness. +"Come with me, I will give you what the good doctor says. Though you owe +me money, and you never try to pay me." + +But Tula was kissing and mumbling over the hem of Paul's coat. Paul took +no notice of him. + +"We are starving, Excellency," the man was saying. "I can get no work. I +had to sell my horse in the winter, and I cannot plough my little piece +of land. The Government will not help us. The Prince--curse him!--does +nothing for us. He lives in Petersburg, where he spends all his money, +and has food and wine more than he wants. The Count Stepan Lanovitch +used to assist us--God be with him! But he has been sent to Siberia +because he helped the peasants. He was like you; he was a great barin, a +great noble, and yet he helped the peasants." + +Paul turned round sharply and shook the man off. + +"Go," he said, "with the starosta and get what I tell you. A great, +strong fellow like you has no business on his knees to any man! I will +not help you unless you help yourself. You are a lazy good-for-nothing. +Get out!" + +He pushed him out of the hut, and kicked after him a few rags of +clothing which were lying about on the floor, all filthy and slimy. + +"Good God!" muttered he under his breath, in English, "that a place like +this should exist beneath the very walls of Osterno!" + +From hut to hut he went all through that night on his mission of +mercy--without enthusiasm, without high-flown notions respecting +mankind, but with the simple sense of duty that was his. These people +were his things--his dumb and driven beasts. In his heart there may have +existed a grudge against the Almighty for placing him in a position +which was not only intensely disagreeable, but also somewhat ridiculous. +For he did not dare to tell his friends of these things. He had spoken +of them to no man except Karl Steinmetz, who was in a sense his +dependent. English public school and university had instilled into him +the intensely British feeling of shame respecting good works. He could +take chaff as well as any man, for he was grave by habit, and a grave +man receives the most chaff most good-humoredly. But he had a nervous +dread of being found out. He had made a sort of religion of suppressing +the fact that he was a prince; the holy of holies of this cult was the +fact that he was a prince who sought to do good to his neighbor--a +prince in whom one might repose trust. + +This was not the first time by any number that he had gone down into his +own village insisting in a rough-and-ready way on cleanliness and +purity. + +"The Moscow doctor"--the peasants would say in the kabak over their +vodka and their tea--"the Moscow doctor comes in and kicks our beds out +of the door. He comes in and throws our furniture into the street But +afterward he gives us new beds and new furniture." + +It was a joke that always obtained in the kabak. It flavored the vodka, +and with that fiery poison served to raise a laugh. + +The Moscow doctor was looked upon in Osterno and in many neighboring +villages as second only to God. In fact, many of the peasants placed him +before their Creator. They were stupid, vodka-soddened, hapless men. The +Moscow doctor they could see for themselves. He came in, a very tangible +thing of flesh and blood, built on a large and manly scale; he took them +by the shoulders and bundled them out of their own houses, kicking their +bedding after them. He scolded them, he rated them and abused them. He +brought them food and medicine. He understood the diseases which from +time to time swept over their villages. No cold was too intense for him +to brave should they be in distress. He asked no money, and he gave +none. But they lived on his charity, and they were wise enough to know +it. + +What wonder if these poor wretches loved the man whom they could see and +hear above the God who manifested himself to them in no way! The +orthodox priests of their villages had no money to spend on their +parishioners. On the contrary, they asked for money to keep the churches +in repair. What wonder, then, if these poor ignorant, helpless peasants +would listen to no priest; for the priest could not explain to them why +it was that God sent a four-month-long winter which cut them off from +the rest of the world behind impassable barriers of snow; that God sent +them droughts in the summer so that there was no crop of rye; that God +scourged them with dread and horrible disease! + +It is almost impossible for us to realize, in these days of a lamentably +cheap press and a cheaper literature, the mental condition of men and +women who have no education, no newspaper, no news of the world, no +communication with the universe. To them the mystery of the Moscow +doctor was as incomprehensible as to us is the Deity. They were so near +to the animals that Paul could not succeed in teaching them that disease +and death followed on the heels of dirt and neglect. They were too +ignorant to reason, too low down the animal scale to comprehend things +which some of the dumb animals undoubtedly recognize. + +Paul Alexis, half Russian, half English, understood these people very +thoroughly. He took advantage of their ignorance, their simplicity, +their unfathomable superstition. He governed as no other could have +ruled them, by fear and kindness at once. He mastered them by his +vitality, the wholesome strength of his nature, his infinite +superiority. He avoided the terrible mistake of the Nihilists by +treating them as children to whom education must be given little by +little instead of throwing down before them a mass of dangerous +knowledge which their minds, unaccustomed to such strong food, are +incapable of digesting. + +A British coldness of blood damped as it were the Russian quixotism +which would desire to see result follow upon action--to see the world +make quicker progress than its Creator has decreed. With very +unsatisfactory material Paul was setting in motion a great rock which +will roll down into the ages unconnected with his name, clearing a path +through a very thick forest of ignorance and tyranny. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +CATRINA + +The man who carries a deceit, however innocent, with him through life is +apt to be somewhat handicapped in that unfair competition. He is like a +ship at sea with a "sprung" mainmast. A side breeze may arise at any +moment which throws him all aback and upon his beam-ends. He runs +illegitimate risks, which are things much given to dragging at a man's +mind, handicapping his thoughts. + +Paul suffered in this way. It was a distinct burthen to him to play a +double part, although each was innocent enough in itself. At school, and +later on at the 'Varsity, he had consistently and steadily suppressed a +truth from friend and foe alike--namely, that he was in his own country +a prince. No great crime on the face of it; but a constant suppression +of a very small truth is as burdensome as any suggestion of falsehood. +It makes one afraid of contemptible foes, and doubtful of the value of +one's own friendship. + +Paul was a simple-minded man. He was not afraid of the Russian +Government. Indeed, he cultivated a fine contempt for that august body. +But he was distinctly afraid of being found out, for that discovery +could only mean an incontinent cessation of the good work which rendered +his life happy. + +The fear of being deprived of this interest in existence should +certainly have been lessened, if not quite allayed, by the fact that a +greater interest had been brought into his life in the pleasant form of +a prospective wife. When he was in London with Etta Sydney Bamborough he +did not, however, forget Osterno. He only longed for the time when he +could take Etta freely into his confidence and engage her interest in +the object of his ambition--namely, to make the huge Osterno estate into +that lump of leaven which might in time leaven the whole of the empire. + +That a man is capable of sustaining two absorbing interests at once is a +matter of every-day illustration. Are we not surrounded by men who do +their work well in life, and love their wives well at home, without +allowing the one to interfere with the other? That women are capable of +the same seems exceedingly probable. But we are a race of sheep who run +after each other, guided for the moment by a catchword which will not +bear investigation, or an erroneous deduction set in alliterative verse +which clings to the mind and sways it. Thus we all think that woman's +whole existence is, and is only capable of, love, because a poet, in the +trickiness of his trade, once said so. + +Now, Paul held a different opinion. He thought that Etta could manage to +love him well, as she said she did, and yet take an interest in that +which was in reality the object of his life. He intended to take the +earliest opportunity of telling her all about the work he was +endeavoring to carry out at Osterno, and the knowledge that he was +withholding something from her was a constant burden to an upright and +honest nature. + +"I think," he said one morning to Steinmetz, "that I will write and tell +Mrs. Sydney Bamborough all about this place." + +"I should not do that," replied Steinmetz with a leisurely promptitude. + +They were alone in a great smoking-room of which the walls were hung all +round with hunting trophies. Paul was smoking a post-prandial cigar. +Steinmetz reflected gravely over a pipe. They were both reading Russian +newspapers--periodicals chiefly remarkable for that which they leave +unsaid. + +"Why not?" asked Paul. + +"On principle. Never tell a woman that which is not interesting enough +to magnify into a secret." + +Paul turned over his newspaper. He began reading again. Then, suddenly, +he looked up. + +"We are engaged to be married," he observed pointedly. + +Steinmetz took his pipe from his lips slowly and imperturbably. He was a +man to whom it was no satisfaction to impart news. He either knew it +before or did not take much interest in the matter. + +"That makes it worse," he said. "A woman only conceals what is bad about +her husband. If she knows anything that is likely to make other women +think that their husbands are inferior, she will tell it." + +Paul laughed. + +"But this is not good," he argued. "We have kept it so confoundedly +quiet that I am beginning to feel as if it is a crime." + +Steinmetz uncrossed his legs, crossed them again, and then spoke after +mature reflection: + +"As I understand the law of libel, a man is punished, not for telling a +lie, but for telling either the truth or a lie with malicious intent. I +imagine the Almighty will take the intent into consideration, if human +justice finds it expedient to do so!" + +Paul shrugged his shoulders. Argument was not his strong point, and, +like most men who cannot argue, he was almost impervious to the +arguments of others. He recognized the necessity for secrecy--the +absolute need of a thousand little secretive precautions and disguises +which were intensely disagreeable to him. But he also grumbled at them +freely, and whenever he made such objection Karl Steinmetz grew uneasy, +as if the question which he disposed of with facile philosophy or +humorous resignation had behind it a possibility and an importance of +which he was fully aware. It was on these rare occasions that he might +have conveyed to a keen observer the impression that he was playing a +very dangerous game with a smiling countenance. + +"All that we do," pursued Steinmetz, "is to bow to a lamentable +necessity for deceit. I have bowed to it all my life. It has been my +trade, perhaps. It is not our fault that we are placed in charge of four +or five thousand human beings who are no more capable of helping +themselves than are sheep. It is not our fault that the forefathers of +these sheep cut down the forests and omitted to plant more, so that the +flocks with whom we have to deal have no fuel. It is not our fault that +a most terrific winter annually renders the land unproductive for four +months. It is not our fault that the government to which we are forced +to bow--the Czar whose name lifts our hats from our heads--it is not our +fault that progress and education are taboo, and that all who endeavor +to forward the cause of humanity are promptly put away in a safe place +where they are at liberty to forward their own salvation and nothing +else. Nothing is our fault, mein lieber, in this country. We have to +make the best of adverse circumstances. We are not breaking any human +law, and in doing nothing we should be breaking a divine command." + +Paul flicked the ash off his cigar. He had heard all this before. Karl +Steinmetz's words were usually more remarkable for solid thoughtfulness +than for brilliancy of conception or any great novelty of expression. + +"Oh!" said Paul quietly, "I am not going to leave off. You need not fear +that. Only I shall have to tell my wife. Surely a woman could help us in +a thousand ways. There is such a lot that only a woman understands." + +"Yes!" grunted Steinmetz; "and only the right sort of woman." + +Paul looked up sharply. + +"You must leave that to me," he said. + +"My very dear friend, I leave every thing to you." + +Paul smiled. + +There was no positive proof that this was not strictly true. There was +no saying that Karl Steinmetz did not leave every thing to every-body. +But wise people thought differently. + +"You don't know Etta," he said, half shyly. "She is full of sympathy and +pity for these people." + +Steinmetz bowed gravely. + +"I have no doubt of it." + +"And yet you say that she must not be told." + +"Certainly not. A secret is considerably strained if it be divided +between two people. Stretching it to three will probably break it. You +can tell her when you are married. Does she consent to live in Osterno?" + +"Oh, yes. I think so." + +"Um--m!" + +"What did you say?" + +"Um--m," repeated Steinmetz, and the conversation somewhat naturally +showed signs of collapse. + +At this moment the door was opened, and a servant in bright livery, with +powdered wig, silk stockings, and a countenance which might have been of +wood, brought in a letter on a silver tray. + +Paul took the square envelope and turned it over, displaying as he did +so a coronet in black and gold on the corner, like a stamp. + +Karl Steinmetz saw the coronet. He never took his quiet, unobtrusive +glance from Paul's face while he opened the letter and read it. + +"A fresh difficulty," said Paul, throwing the note across to his +companion. + +Steinmetz looked grave while he unfolded the thick stationery. + +"Dear Paul [the letter ran]: I hear you are at Osterno and that the +Moscow doctor is in your country. We are in great distress at +Thors--cholera, I fear. The fame of your doctor has spread to my people, +and they are clamoring for him. Can you bring or send him over? You know +your room here is always in readiness. Come soon with the great doctor, +and also Herr Steinmetz. In doing so you will give more than pleasure to +your old friend," + +Catrina Lanovitch. + +"P.S. Mother is afraid to go out of doors for fear of infection. She +thinks she has a little cold." + +Steinmetz folded the letter very carefully, pressing the seam of it +reflectively with his stout forefinger and thumb. + +"I always think of the lie first," he said. "It's my nature or my +misfortune. We can easily write and say that the Moscow doctor has +left." + +He paused, scratching his brow pensively with his curved forefinger. It +is to be feared that he was seeking not so much the truth as the most +convenient perversion of the same. + +"But then," he went on, "by doing that we leave these poor devils to die +in their--styes. Catrina cannot manage them. They are worse than our +people." + +"Whatever is the best lie to tell," burst in Paul--"as we seem to live +in an atmosphere of them--I must go to Thors; that is quite certain." + +"There is no must in the case," put in Steinmetz quietly, as a +parenthesis. "No man is compelled to throw himself in the way of +infection. But I know you will go, whatever I say." + +"I suppose I shall," admitted Paul. + +"And Catrina will find you out at once." + +"Why?" + +Steinmetz drew in his feet. He leant forward and knocked his pipe on one +of the logs that lay ready to light in the great open fire-place. + +"Because she loves you," he said shortly. "There is no coming the Moscow +doctor over her, mien lieber." + +Paul laughed rather awkwardly. He was one of the few men--daily growing +fewer--who hold that a woman's love is not a thing to be tossed lightly +about in conversation. + +"Then--" he began, speaking rather quickly, as if afraid that Steinmetz +was going to say more. "If," he amended, "you think she will find out, +she must not see me, that is all." + +Steinmetz reflected again. He was unusually grave over this matter. One +would scarcely have taken this stout German for a person of any +sentiment whatever. Nevertheless he would have liked Paul to marry +Catrina Lanovitch in preference to Etta Sydney Bamborough, merely +because he thought that the former loved him, while he felt sure that +the latter did not. So much for the sentimental point of view--a +starting-point, by the way, which usually makes all the difference in a +man's life. For a man needs to be loved as much as a woman needs it. +From the practical point of view, Karl Steinmetz knew too much about +Etta to place entire reliance on the goodness of her motives. He keenly +suspected that she was marrying Paul for his money--for the position he +could give her in the world. + +"We must be careful," he said. "We must place clearly before ourselves +the risks that we are running before we come to any decision. For you +the risk is simply that of unofficial banishment. They can hardly send +you to Siberia because you are half an Englishman; and that impertinent +country has a habit of getting up and shouting when her sons are +interfered with. But they can easily make Russia impossible for you. +They can do you more harm than you think. They can do these poor devils +of peasants of yours more harm than we can comfortably contemplate. As +for me," he paused and shrugged his great shoulders, "it means Siberia. +Already I am a suspect--a persona non grata." + +"I do not see how we can refuse to help Catrina," said Paul, in a voice +which Steinmetz seemed to know, for he suddenly gave in. + +"As you will," he said. + +He sat up, and, drawing a small table toward him, took up a pen +reflectively. Paul watched him in silence. + +When the letter was finished, Steinmetz read it aloud: + +"My Dear Catrina: + +"The Moscow doctor and your obedient servant will be (D.V.) in Thors by +seven o'clock to-night. We propose spending about an hour in the +village, if you will kindly advise the starosta to be ready for us. As +our time is limited, and we are much needed in Osterno, we shall have to +deprive ourselves of the pleasure of calling at the castle. The prince +sends kind remembrances, and proposes riding over to Thors to avail +himself of your proffered hospitality in a day or two. With salutations +to the countess, + +"Your old friend, + +"Karl Steinmetz." + +Steinmetz waited with the letter in his hand for Paul's approval. "You +see," he explained, "you are notoriously indifferent to the welfare of +the peasants. It would be unnatural if you suddenly displayed so much +interest as to induce you to go to Thors on a mission of charity." + +Paul nodded. "All right," he said. "Yes, I see; though I confess I +sometimes forget what the deuce I _am_ supposed to be." + +Steinmetz laughed pleasantly as he folded the letter. He rose and went +to the door. + +"I will send it off," he said. He paused on the threshold and looked +back gravely. "Do not forget," he added, "that Catrina Lanovitch loves +you." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +AT THORS + +Below the windows of a long, low, stone house, in its architecture +remarkably like a fortified farm--below these deep-embrasured windows +the river Oster mumbled softly. One of the windows was wide open, and +with the voice of the water a wonderful music rolled out to mingle and +lose itself in the hum of the pine-woods. + +The room was a small one; beneath the artistic wall-paper one detected +the outline of square-hewn stones. There were women's things lying +about; there were flowers in a bowl on a low, strong table. There were a +few good engravings on the wall; deep-curtained windows, low chairs, a +sofa, a fan. But it was not a womanly room. The music filling it, +vibrating back from the grim stone walls, was not womanly music. It was +more than manly. It was not earthly, but almost divine. It happened to +be Grieg, with the halting beat of a disabled, perhaps a broken, heart +in it, as that master's music usually has. + +The girl was alone in the room. The presence of any one would have +silenced something that was throbbing at the back of the chords. Quite +suddenly she stopped. She knew how to play the quaint last notes. She +knew something that no master had ever taught her. + +She swung round on the stool and faced the light. It was afternoon--an +autumn afternoon in Russia--and the pink light made the very best of a +face which was not beautiful at all, never could be beautiful--a face +about which even the owner, a woman, could have no possible illusion. It +was broad and powerful, with eyes too far apart, forehead too broad and +low, jaw too heavy, mouth too determined. The eyes were almond-shaped, +and slightly sloping downward and inward--deep, passionate blue eyes set +in a Mongolian head. It was the face of a woman who could, morally +speaking, make mincemeat of nine young men out of ten. But she could not +have made one out of the number love her. For it has been decreed that +women shall win love--except in some happy exceptions--by beauty only. +The same unwritten law has it that a man's appearance does not matter--a +law much appreciated by some of us, and duly canonized by not a few. + +The girl was evidently listening. She glanced at a little golden clock +on the mantel-piece, and then at the open window. She rose--she was +short, and somewhat broadly built--and went to the window. + +"He will be back," she said to herself, "in a few minutes now." + +She raised her hand to her forehead, and pressed back her hair with a +little movement of impatience, expressive, perhaps, of a great suspense. +She stood idly drumming on the window-sill for a few moments; then, with +a quick little sigh, she went back to the piano. As she moved she gave a +jerk of the head from time to time, as schoolgirls who have too much +hair are wont to do. The reason of this nervous movement was a wondrous +plait of gold reaching far below her waist. Catrina Lanovitch almost +worshipped her own hair. She knew without any doubt that not one woman +in ten thousand could rival her in this feminine glory--knew it as +indubitably as she knew that she was plain. The latter fact she faced +with an unflinching, cold conviction which was not feminine at all. She +did not say that she was hideous, for the sake of hearing a +contradiction or a series of saving clauses. She never spoke of it to +any one. She had grown up with it, and as it was beyond doubt, so was it +outside discussion. All her femininity seemed to be concentrated, all +her vanity centred, on her hair. It was her one pride, perhaps her one +hope. Women have been loved for their voices. Catrina's voice was +musical enough, but it was deep and strong. It was passionate, tender if +she wished, fascinating; but it was not lovable. If the voice may win +love, why not the hair? + +Catrina despised all men but one--that one she worshipped. She lived +night and day with one great desire, beside which heaven and hell were +mere words. Neither the hope of the one nor the fear of the other in any +way touched or affected her desire. She wanted to make Paul Alexis love +her; and, womanlike, she clung to the one womanly charm that was +hers--the wonderful golden hair. Pathetic, aye, pathetic--with a grin +behind the pathos, as there ever is. + +She sat down at the piano, and her strong, small hands tore the heart +out of each wire. There are some people who get farther into a piano +than others, making the wires speak as with a voice. Catrina Lanovitch +had this trick. She only played a Russian people-song--a simple lay such +as one may hear issuing from the door of any kabak on a summer evening. +But she infused a true Russian soul into it--the soul that is cursed +with a fatal power of dumb and patient endurance. She did not sway from +side to side as do some people who lose themselves in the intoxication +of music. But she sat quite upright, her sturdy, square shoulders +motionless. Her strange eyes were fixed with the stillness of distant +contemplation. + +Suddenly she stopped and leaped to her feet. She did not go to the +window, but stood listening beside the piano. The beat of a horse's +hoofs on the narrow road was distinctly audible, hollow and sodden as is +the sound of a wooden road. It came nearer and nearer, and a certain +unsteadiness indicated that the horse was tired. + +"I thought he might have come," she whispered, and she sat down +breathlessly. + +When the servant came into the room a few minutes later Catrina was at +the piano. + +"A letter, mademoiselle," said the maid. + +"Lay it on the table," answered Catrina, without looking round. She was +playing the closing bars of a nocturne. + +She rose slowly, turned, and seized the letter as a starving man seizes +food. There was something almost wolf-like in her eyes. + +"Steinmetz," she exclaimed, reading the address. "Steinmetz. Oh! why +won't he write to me?" + +She tore open the letter, read it, and stood holding it in her hand, +looking out over the trackless pine-woods with absorbed, speculative +eyes. The sun had just set. The farthest ridge of pine-trees stood out +like the teeth of a saw in black relief on the rosy sky. Catrina +Lanovitch watched the rosiness fade into pearly gray. + +"Madame the Countess awaits mademoiselle for tea," said the maid's voice +suddenly, in the gloom of the door-way. + +"I will come." + +The village of Thors--twenty miles farther down the river Oster, twenty +miles nearer to the junction of that river with the Volga--was little +more than a hamlet in the days of which we write. Some day, perhaps, the +three hundred souls of Thors may increase and multiply--some day when +Russia is attacked by the railway fever. For Thors is on the +Chorno-Ziom--the belt of black and fertile soil that runs right across +the vast empire. + +Karl Steinmetz, a dogged watcher of the Wandering Jew--the deathless +scoffer at our Lord's agony, who shall never die, who shall leave +cholera in his track wherever he may wander--Karl Steinmetz knew that +the Oster was in itself a Wandering Jew. This river meandered through +the lonesome country, bearing cholera germs within its waters. Whenever +Osterno had cholera it sent it down the river to Thors, and so on to the +Volga. + +Thors lay groaning under the scourge, and the Countess Lanovitch shut +herself within her stone walls, shivering with fear, begging her +daughter to return to Petersburg. + +It was nearly dark when Karl Steinmetz and the Moscow doctor rode into +the little village, to find the starosta, a simple Russian farmer, +awaiting them outside the kabak. + +Steinmetz knew the man, and immediately took command of the situation +with that unquestioned sense of authority which in Russia places the +barin on much the same footing as that taken by the Anglo-Indian in our +eastern empire. + +"Now, starosta," he said, "we have only an hour to spend in Thors. This +is the Moscow doctor. If you listen to what he tells you, you will soon +have no sickness in the village. The worst houses first--and quickly. +You need not be afraid, but if you do not care to come in, you may stay +outside." + +As they walked down the straggling village-street the Moscow doctor told +the starosta in no measured terms, as was his wont, wherein lay the +heart of the sickness. Here, as in Osterno, dirt and neglect were at the +base of all the trouble. Here, as in the larger village, the houses were +more like the abode of four-footed beasts than the dwellings of human +beings. + +The starosta prudently remained outside the first house to which he +introduced the visitors. Paul went fearlessly in, while Steinmetz stood +in the door-way, holding open the door. + +As he was standing there he perceived a flickering light approaching +him. The light was evidently that of an ordinary hand-lantern, and from +the swinging motion it was easy to divine that it was being carried by +some one who was walking quickly. + +"Who is this?" asked Steinmetz. + +"It is likely to be the Countess Catrina, Excellency." + +Steinmetz glanced back into the cottage, which was dark save for the +light of a single petroleum lamp. Paul's huge form could be dimly +distinguished bending over a heap of humanity and foul clothing in a +corner. + +"Does she visit the cottages?" asked Steinmetz sharply. + +"She does, God be with her! She has no fear. She is an angel. Without +her we should all be dead." + +"She won't visit this, if I can help it," muttered Steinmetz. + +The light flickered along the road toward them. In the course of a few +minutes it fell on the stricken cottage, on the starosta standing in the +road, on Steinmetz in the door-way. + +"Herr Steinmetz, is that you?" asked a voice, deep and musical, in the +darkness. + +"Zum Befehl," answered Steinmetz, without moving. + +Catrina came up to him. She was clad in a long dark cloak, a dark hat, +and wore no gloves. She brought with her a clean aromatic odor of +disinfectants. She carried the lantern herself, while behind her walked +a man-servant in livery, with a large basket in either hand. + +"It is good of you," she said, "to come to us in our need--also to +persuade the good doctor to come with you." + +"It is not much that we can do," answered Steinmetz, taking the small +outstretched hand within his large soft grasp; "but that little you may +always count upon." + +"I know," she said gravely. + +She looked up at him, expecting him to step aside and allow her to pass +into the cottage; but Steinmetz stood quite still, looking down at her +with his pleasant smile. + +"And how is it with you?" he asked, speaking in German, as they always +did together. + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"Oh!" she answered indifferently, "I am well, of course. I always am. I +have the strength of a horse. Of course I have been troubled about these +poor people. It has been terrible. They are worse than children. I +cannot quite understand why God afflicts them so. They have never done +any harm. They are not like the Jews. It seems unjust. I have been very +busy, in my small way. My mother, you know, does not take much interest +in things that are not clean." + +"Madame the Countess reads French novels and the fictional productions +of some modern English ladies," suggested Steinmetz quietly. + +"Yes; but she objects to honest dirt," said Catrina coldly. "May I go +in?" + +Steinmetz did not move. + +"I think not. This Moscow man is eccentric. He likes to do good sub +rosa. He prefers to be alone." + +Catrina tried to look into the cottage; but Karl Steinmetz, as we know, +was fat, and filled up the whole door-way. + +"I should like to thank him for coming to us, or, at least, to offer him +hospitality. I suppose one cannot pay him." + +"No; one cannot pay him," answered Steinmetz gravely. + +There was a little pause. From the interior of the cottage came the +murmured gratitude of the peasants, broken at times by a wail of +agony--the wail of a man. It is not a pleasant sound to hear. Catrina +heard it, and it twisted her plain, strong face in a sudden spasm of +sympathy. + +Again she made an impatient little movement. + +"Let me go in," she urged. "I may be able to help." + +Steinmetz shook his head. + +"Better not!" he said. "Besides, your life is too precious to these poor +people to run unnecessary risks." + +She gave a strange, bitter laugh. + +"And what about you?" she said. "And Paul?" + +"You never hear of Paul going into any of the cottages," snapped +Steinmetz sharply. "For me it is different. You have never heard that of +Paul." + +"No," she answered slowly; "and it is quite right. His life--it is +different for him. How--how is Paul?" + +"He is well, thank you." + +Steinmetz glanced down at her. She was looking across the plains beyond +the boundless pine forests that lay between Thors and the Volga. + +"Quite well," he went on, kindly enough. "He hopes to ride over and pay +his respects to the countess to-morrow or the next day." + +And the keen, kind eyes saw what they expected in the flickering light +of the lamp. + +At this moment Steinmetz was pushed aside from within, and a hulking +young man staggered out into the road, propelled from behind with +considerable vigor. After him came a shower of clothes and bedding. + +"Pah!" exclaimed Steinmetz, spluttering. "Himmel! What filth! Be +careful, Catrina!" + +But Catrina had slipped past him. In an instant he had caught her by the +wrist. + +"Come back!" he cried. "You must not go in there!" + +She was just over the threshold. + +"You have some reason for keeping me out," she returned, wriggling in +his strong grasp. "I will--I will!" + +With a twist she wrenched herself free and went into the dimly lighted +room. + +Almost immediately she gave a mocking laugh. + +"Paul!" she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +UNMASKED + +For a moment there was silence in the hovel, broken only by the wail of +the dying man in the corner. Paul and Catrina faced each other--she +white and suddenly breathless, he half frowning. But he did not meet her +eyes. + +"Paul," she said again, with a lingering touch on the name. The sound of +her voice, a rough sort of tenderness in her angry tone, made Steinmetz +smile in his grim way, as a man may smile when in pain. + +"Paul, what did you do this for? Why are you here? Oh, why are you in +this wretched place?" + +"Because you sent for me," he answered quietly. "Come, let us go out. I +have finished here. That man will die. There is nothing more to be done +for him. You must not stay in here." + +She gave a short laugh as she followed him. He had to stoop low to pass +through the door-way. Then he turned and held out his hand, for fear she +should trip over the high threshold. She nodded her thanks, but refused +the proffered assistance. + +Steinmetz lingered behind to give some last instructions, leaving Paul +and Catrina to walk on down the narrow street alone. The moon was just +rising--a great yellow moon such as only Russia knows--the land of the +silver night. + +"How long have you been doing this?" asked Catrina suddenly. She did not +look toward him, but straight in front of her. + +"For some years now," he replied simply. + +He lingered. He was waiting for Steinmetz, who always rose to such +emergencies, who understood secrets and how to secure them when they +seemed already lost. He did not quite understand what was to be done +with Catrina--how she was to be silenced. She had found him out with +such startling rapidity that he felt disposed to admit her right to +dictate her own terms. On a straight road this man was fearless and +quick, but he had no taste or capacity for crooked ways. + +Catrina walked on in silence. She was not looking at the matter from his +point of view at all. + +"Of course," she said at length, "of course, Paul, I admire you for it +immensely. It is just like you to go and do the thing quietly and say +nothing about it; but--oh, you must go away from here. I--I--it is too +horrible to think of your running such risks. Rather let them all die +like flies than that. You mustn't do it. You mustn't." + +She spoke in English hurriedly, with a little break in her voice which +he did not understand. + +"With ordinary precautions the risk is very small," he said practically. + +"Yes. But do you take ordinary precautions? Are you sure you are all +right now?" + +She stopped. They were quite alone in the one silent street of the +stricken village. She looked up into his face. Her hands were running +over the breast of the tattered coat he wore. It was lamentably obvious, +even to him, that she loved him. In her anxiety she either did not know +what she was doing, or she did not care whether he knew or not. She +merely gave sway to the maternal instinct which is in the love of all +women. She felt his hands; she reached up and touched his face. + +"Are you sure--are you sure you have not taken it?" she whispered. + +He walked on, almost roughly. + +"Oh, yes; quite," he said. + +"I will not allow you to go into any more houses in Thors. I cannot--I +will not! Oh, Paul, you don't know. If you do, I will tell them all who +you are, and--and the Government will stop you." + +"What would be the good of that?" said Paul awkwardly. "Your father +cared for his peasants, and was content to run risks for them. I suppose +you care about them, too, as you go into their houses." + +"Yes; but--" + +She paused, gave a strange little reckless laugh, and was silent. Heaven +forbid that we should say that she wanted him to know that she loved +him. Chivalry bids us believe that women guard the secret of their love +inviolate from the world. But what was Catrina to do? Men are in the +habit of forgetting that plain women are women at all. Surely some of +them may be excused for reminding us at times that they also are capable +of loving--that they also desire to be loved. Happy is the man who loves +and is loved of a plain woman; for she will take her own lack of beauty +into consideration, and give him more than most beautiful women have it +in their power to give. + +"Of course," Catrina went on, with a sudden anger which surprised +herself, "I cannot stop you from doing this at Osterno, though I think +it is wicked; but I can prevent you from doing it here, and I certainly +shall!" + +Paul shrugged his shoulders. + +"As you like," he said. "I thought you cared more about the peasants." + +"I do not care a jot about the peasants," she answered passionately, "as +compared--It is you I am thinking about, not them. I think you are +selfish, and cruel to your friends." + +"My friends have never shown that they are consumed with anxiety on my +account." + +"That is mere prevarication. Leave that to Herr Steinmetz and such men, +whose business it is; you don't do it well. Your friends may feel a lot +that they do not show." + +She spoke the words shortly and sharply. Surreptitious good is so rare, +that when it is found out it very naturally gets mixed up with secret +evil, and the perpetrator of the hidden good deed feels guilty of a +crime. Paul was in this lamentable position, which he proceeded to +further aggravate by seeking to excuse himself. + +"I did it after mature consideration. I tried paying another man, but he +shirked his work and showed the white feather; so Steinmetz and I +concluded that there was nothing to be done but do our dirty work +ourselves." + +"Which, being translated, means that you do it." + +"Pardon me. Steinmetz does his share." + +Catrina Lanovitch was essentially a woman, despite her somewhat +masculine frame. She settled Karl Steinmetz's account with a sniff of +contempt. + +"And that is why you have been so fond of Osterno the last two years?" +she asked innocently. + +"Yes," he answered, falling into the trap. + +Catrina winced. One does not wince the less because the pain is +expected. The girl had the Slav instinct of self-martyrdom, which makes +Russians so very different from the pleasure-loving nations of Europe. + +"Only that?" she enquired. + +Paul glanced down at her. + +"Yes," he answered quietly. + +They walked on in silence for a few moments. Paul seemed tacitly to have +given up the idea of visiting any more of the stricken cottages. They +were going toward the long old house, which was called the castle more +by courtesy than by right. + +"How long are you going to stay in Osterno?" asked Catrina at length. + +"About a fortnight; I cannot stay longer. I am going to be married." + +Catrina stopped dead. She stood for a moment looking at the ground with +a sort of wonder in her eyes, not pleasant to see. It was the look of +one who, having fallen from a great height, is not quite sure whether it +means death or not. Then she walked on. + +"I congratulate you," she said. "I only hope she will make you happy. +She is--beautiful, I suppose?" + +"Yes," answered Paul simply. + +The girl nodded her head. + +"What is her name?" + +"Etta Sydney Bamborough." + +Catrina had evidently never heard the name before. It conveyed nothing +to her. Womanlike, she went back to her first question. + +"What is she like?" + +Paul hesitated. + +"Tall, I suppose?" suggested the stunted woman at his side. + +"Yes." + +"And graceful?" + +"Yes." + +"Has she--pretty hair?" asked Catrina. + +"I think so--yes." + +"You are not observant," said the girl in a singularly even and +emotionless voice. "Perhaps you never noticed." + +"Not particularly," answered Paul. + +The girl raised her face. There was a painful smile twisting her lips. +The moonlight fell upon her; the deep shadows beneath the eyes made her +face wear a grin. Some have seen such a grin on the face of a drowning +man--a sight not to be forgotten. + +"Where does she live?" asked Catrina. She was unaware of the thought of +murder that was in her own heart. Nevertheless, the desire--indefinite, +shapeless--was there to kill this woman, who was tall and beautiful, +whom Paul Alexis loved. + +It must be remembered in extenuation that Catrina Lanovitch had lived +nearly all her life in the province of Tver. She was not modern at all. +Deprived of the advantages of our enlightened society press, without the +benefit of our decadent fictional literature, she had lamentably narrow +views of life. She was without that deep philosophy which teaches you, +mademoiselle, who read this guileless tale, that nothing matters very +much; that love is but a passing amusement, the plaything of an hour; +that if Tom is faithless, Dick is equally amusing; while Harry's taste +in gloves and compliments is worthy of some consideration. That these +things be true--that at all events the modern young lady thinks them +true--is a matter of no doubt whatever. Has not the modern lady novelist +told us so? And is not the modern lady novelist notable for her close +observation of human nature, her impartial judgment of human motives, +her sublime truth of delineation when she sits down to describe the +thing she calls a man? By a close study of the refined feminine +literature of the day the modern young lady acquires not only the +knowledge of some startling social delinquencies--retailed, not as if +they were quite the exception, but as if they were quite the correct +thing--but also she will learn that she is human. She will realize how +utterly absurd it is to attempt to be any thing else. If persons in +books, she will reflect, are not high-minded or pure-minded, or even +clean-minded, it is useless for an ordinary person out of a book to +attempt to be any of these. + +This is the lesson of some new writers, and Catrina Lanovitch had, +fortunately enough, lacked the opportunity of learning it. + +She only knew that she loved Paul, and that what she wanted was Paul's +love to go with her all through her life. She was not self-analytical, +nor subtle, nor given to thinking about her own thoughts. Perhaps she +was old-fashioned enough to be romantic. If this be so, we must bear +with her romance, remembering that, at all events, romance serves to +elevate, while realism tends undoubtedly toward deterioration. + +Catrina hated Etta Sydney Bamborough with a simple half-barbaric hatred +because she had gained the love of Paul Alexis. Etta had taken away from +her the only man whom Catrina could ever love all through her life. The +girl was simple enough, unsophisticated enough, never to dream of +compromise. She never for a moment entertained the cheap, consolatory +thought that in time she would get over it; she would marry somebody +else, and make that compromise which is responsible for more misery in +this world than ever is vice. In her great solitude, growing to +womanhood as she had in the vast forest of Tver, she had learned nearly +all that she knew from the best teacher, Nature; and she held the +strange, effete theory that it is wicked for a woman to marry a man she +does not love, or to marry at all for any reason except love. St. Paul +and a few others held like theories, but nous avons change tout cela. + +"Where does she live?" asked Catrina. + +"In London." + +They walked on in silence for a few moments. They were walking slowly, +and they presently heard the footsteps of Karl Steinmetz and the servant +close behind them. + +"I wonder," said Catrina, half to herself, "whether she loves you?" + +It was a question, but not one that a man can answer. Paul said nothing, +but walked gravely on by the side of this woman, who knew that even if +Etta Sydney Bamborough should try she could never love him as she +herself did. + +When Karl Steinmetz joined them they were silent. + +"I suppose," he said in English, "that we may rely upon the discretion +of the Frauelein Catrina?" + +"Yes," answered the girl; "you may, so far as Osterno is concerned. But +I would rather that you did not visit our people here. It is too +dangerous in several ways." + +"Ah!" murmured Steinmetz, respectfully acquiescent. He was looking +straight in front of him, with an expression of countenance which was +almost dense. "Then we must bow to your decision," he went on, turning +toward the tall man striding along at his side. + +"Yes," said Paul simply. + +Steinmetz smiled grimly to himself. It was one of his half-cynical +theories that women hold the casting vote in all earthly matters, and +when an illustration such as this came to prove the correctness of his +deductions, he only smiled. He was not by nature a cynic--only by the +force of circumstances. + +"Will you come to the castle?" asked the girl at length, and Steinmetz +by a gesture deferred the decision to Paul. + +"I think not to-night, thanks," said the latter. "We will take you as +far as the gate." + +Catrina made no comment. When the tall gate-way was reached she stopped, +and they all became aware of the sound of horses' feet behind them. + +"What is this?" asked Catrina. + +"Only the starosta bringing our horses," replied Steinmetz. "He has +discovered nothing." + +Catrina nodded and held out her hand. + +"Good-night," she said, rather coldly. "Your secret is safe with me." + +"Set a thief to catch a thief," reflected Steinmetz. He said nothing, +however, when he shook hands. + +They mounted their horses and rode back the way they had come. For half +an hour no one spoke. Then Paul broke the silence. He only said one +word: + +"D--n." + +"Yes," returned Steinmetz quietly. "Charity is a dangerous plaything." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +A WIRE-PULLER + +The Palace of Industry--where, with a fine sense of the fitness of the +name, the Parisians amuse themselves--was in a blaze of electric light +and fashion. The occasion was the Concours Hippique, an ultra-equine +fete, where the lovers of the friend of man, and such persons as are +fitted by an ungenerous fate with limbs suitable to horsey clothes, meet +and bow. In France, as in a neighboring land (less sunny), horsiness is +the last refuge of the diminutive. It is your small man who is ever the +horsiest in his outward appearance, just as it is your very plain young +person who is keenest at the Sunday-school class. + +When a Frenchman is horsey he never runs the risk of being mistaken for +a groom or a jockey, as do his turfy compeers in England. His costume is +so exaggeratedly suggestive of the stable and the horse as to leave no +doubt whatever that he is an amateur of the most pronounced type. His +collar is so white and stiff and portentous as to make it impossible for +him to tighten up his own girths. His breeches are so breechy about the +knees as to render an ascent to the saddle a feat which it is not +prudent to attempt without assistance. His gloves are so large and seamy +as to make it extremely difficult to grasp the bridle, and quite +impossible to buckle a strap. Your French horseman is, in fact, rather +like a knight of old, inasmuch as his attendants are required to set him +on his horse with his face turned in the right direction, his bridle in +his left hand, his whip in his right, and, it is to be supposed, his +heart in his mouth. When he is once up there, however, the gallant son +of Gaul can teach even some of us, my fox-hunting masters, the way to +sit a horse! + +We have, however, little to do with such matters here, except in so far +as they affect the persons connected with this record. The Concours +Hippique, be it therefore known, was at its height. Great deeds of +horsemanship had been successfully accomplished. The fair had smiled +beneath pencilled eyebrows upon the brave in uniform and breeches. At +the time when we join the fashionable throng, the fair are smiling their +brightest. It is, in fact, an interval for refreshment. + +A crowd of well-dressed men jostled each other good-naturedly around a +long table, where insolent waiters served tepid coffee, and sandwiches +that had been cut by the hand of a knave. In the background a number of +ladies nodded encouragement to their cavaliers in the intervals of +scrutinizing each other's dresses. Many pencilled eyebrows were raised +in derision of too little style displayed by some innocent rival, or +brought down in disapproval of too much of the same vague quality +displayed by one less innocent. + +In the midst of these, as in his element, moved the Baron Claude de +Chauxville, smiling his courteous, ready smile, which his enemies called +a grin. He took up less room than the majority of the men around him; he +succeeded in passing through narrower places, and jostled fewer people. +In a word, he proved to his own satisfaction, and to the discomfiture of +many a younger man, his proficiency in the gentle art of getting on in +the world. + +Not far from him stood a stout gentleman of middle age, with a heavy +fair mustache brushed upward on either side. This man had an air of +distinction which was notable even in this assembly; for there were many +distinguished people present, and a Frenchman of note plays his part +better than do we dull, self-conscious islanders. This man looked like a +general, so upright was he, so keen his glance, so independent the +carriage of his head. + +He stood with his hands behind his back, looking gravely on at the +social festivity. He bowed and raised his hat to many, but he entered +into conversation with none. + +"Ce Vassili," he heard more than once whispered, "c'est un homme +dangereux." + +And he smiled all the more pleasantly. + +Now, if a very keen observer had taken the trouble to ignore the throng +and watch two persons only, that observer might have discovered the fact +that Claude de Chauxville was slowly and purposely making his way toward +the man called Vassili. + +De Chauxville knew and was known of many. He had but recently arrived +from London. He found himself called upon to shake hands a l'anglais +with this one and that, giving all and sundry his impressions of the +perfidious Albion with a verve and neatness truly French. He went from +one to the other with perfect grace and savoir-faire, and each change of +position brought him nearer to the middle-aged man with upturned +mustache, upon whom his movements were by no means lost. + +Finally De Chauxville bumped against the object of his quest--possibly, +indeed, the object of his presence at the Concours Hippique. He turned +with a ready apology. + +"Ah!" he exclaimed; "the very man I was desiring to see." + +The individual known as "ce Vassili"--a term of mingled contempt and +distrust--bowed very low. He was a plain commoner, while his +interlocutor was a baron. The knowledge of this was subtly conveyed in +his bow. + +"How can I serve M. le Baron?" he enquired in a voice which was +naturally loud and strong, but had been reduced by careful training to a +tone inaudible at the distance of a few paces. + +"By following me to the Cafe Tantale in ten minutes," answered De +Chauxville, passing on to greet a lady who was bowing to him with the +labored grace of a Parisienne. + +Vassili merely bowed and stood upright again. There was something in his +attitude of quiet attention, of unobtrusive scrutiny and retiring +intelligence, vaguely suggestive of the police--something which his +friends refrained from mentioning to him; for this Vassili was a +dignified man, of like susceptibilities with ourselves, and justly proud +of the fact that he belonged to the Corps Diplomatique. What position he +occupied in that select corporation he never vouchsafed to define. But +it was known that he enjoyed considerable emoluments, while he was never +called upon to represent his country or his emperor in any official +capacity. He was attached, he said, to the Russian Embassy. His enemies +called him a spy; but the world never puts a charitable construction on +that of which it only has a partial knowledge. + +In ten minutes Claude de Chauxville left the Concours Hippique. In the +Champs Elysees he turned to the left, up toward the Bois du Boulogne; +turned to the left again, and took one of the smaller paths that lead to +one or other of the sequestered and somewhat select cafes on the south +side of the Champs Elysees. + +At the Cafe Tantale--not in the garden, for it was winter, but in the +inner room--he found the man called Vassili consuming a pensive and +solitary glass of liqueur. + +De Chauxville sat down, stated his requirements to the waiter in a +single word, and offered his companion a cigarette, which Vassili +accepted with the consciousness that it came from a coroneted case. + +"I am rather thinking of visiting Russia," said the Frenchman. + +"Again," added Vassili, in his quiet voice. + +De Chauxville looked up sharply, smiled, and waved the word away with a +gesture of the fingers that held a cigarette. + +"If you will--again." + +"On private affairs?" enquired Vassili, not so much, it would appear, +from curiosity as from habit. He put the question with the assurance of +one who has a right to know. + +De Chauxville nodded acquiescence through the tobacco smoke. + +"The bane of public men--private affairs," he said epigrammatically. + +But the attache to the Russian Embassy was either too dense or too +clever to be moved to a sympathetic smile by a cheap epigram. + +"And M. le Baron wants a passport?" he said, lapsing into the useful +third person, which makes the French language so much more fitted to +social and diplomatic purposes than is our rough northern tongue. + +"And more," answered De Chauxville. "I want what you hate parting +with--information." + +The man called Vassili leaned back in his chair with a little smile. It +was an odd little smile, which fell over his features like a mask and +completely hid his thoughts. It was apparent that Claude de Chauxville's +tricks of speech and manner fell here on barren ground. The Frenchman's +epigrams, his method of conveying his meaning in a non-committing and +impersonal generality, failed to impress this hearer. The difference +between a Frenchman and a Russian is that the former is amenable to +every outward influence--the outer thing penetrates. The Russian, on the +contrary, is a man who works his thoughts, as it were, from internal +generation to external action. The action, moreover, is demonstrative, +which makes the Russian different from other northern nations of an +older civilization and a completer self-control. + +"Then," said Vassili, "if I understand M. le Baron aright, it is a +question of private and personal affairs that suggests this journey +to--Russia?" + +"Precisely." + +"In no sense a mission?" suggested the other, sipping his liqueur +thoughtfully. + +"In no sense a mission. I give you a proof. I have been granted six +months' leave of absence, as you probably know." + +"Precisely so, mo' cher Baron." Vassili had a habit of applying to every +one the endearing epithet, which lost a consonant somewhere in his +mustache. "When a military officer is granted a six months' leave, it is +exactly then that we watch him." + +De Chauxville shrugged his shoulders in deprecation, possibly with +contempt for any system of watching. + +"May one call it an affaire de coeur?" asked Vassili, with his grim +smile. + +"Certainly. Are not all private affairs such, one way or the other?" + +"And you want a passport?" + +"Yes--a special one." + +"I will see what I can do." + +"Thank you." + +Vassili emptied his glass, drew in his feet, and glanced at the clock. + +"But that is not all I want," said De Chauxville. + +"So I perceive." + +"I want you to tell me what you know of Prince Pavlo Alexis." + +"Of Tver?" + +"Of Tver. What you know from your point of view, you understand, my dear +Vassili. Nothing political, nothing incriminating, nothing official. I +only want a few social details." + +Again the odd smile fell over the dignified face. + +"In case," said Vassili, rather slowly, "I should only impart to you +stale news and valueless details with which you are already acquainted, +I must ask you to tell me first what you know--from your point of view." + +"Certainly," answered De Chauxville, with engaging frankness. "The man I +know slightly is the sort of thing that Eton and Oxford turn out by the +dozen. Well dressed, athletic, silent, a thorough gentleman--et voila +tout." + +The face of Vassili expressed something remarkably like disbelief. + +"Ye--es," he said slowly. + +"And you?" suggested De Chauxville. + +"You leave too much to my imagination," said Vassili. "You relate mere +facts--have you no suppositions, no questions in your mind about the +man?" + +"I want to know what his purpose in life may be. There is a purpose--one +sees it in his face. I want also to know what he does with his spare +time; he must have much to dispose of in England." + +Vassili nodded, and suddenly launched into detail. + +"Prince Pavlo Alexis," he said, "is a young man who takes a full and +daring advantage of his peculiar position. He defies many laws in a +quiet, persistent way which impresses the smaller authorities and to a +certain extent paralyzes them. He was in the Charity League--deeply +implicated. He had a narrow escape. He was pulled through by the +cleverest man in Russia." + +"Karl Steinmetz?" + +"Yes," answered Vassili behind the rigid smile; "Karl Steinmetz." + +"And that," said De Chauxville, watching the face of his companion, "is +all you can tell me?" + +"To be quite frank with you," replied the man who had never been quite +frank in his life, "that is all I want to tell you." + +De Chauxville lighted a cigarette, with exaggerated interest in the +match. + +"Paul is a friend of mine," he said calmly. "I may be staying at Osterno +with him." + +The rigid smile never relaxed. + +"Not with Karl Steinmetz on the premises," said Vassili imperturbably. + +"The astute Mr. Steinmetz may be removed to some other sphere of +usefulness. There is a new spoke in his Teutonic wheel." + +"Ah!" + +"Prince Paul is about to marry--the widow of Sydney Bamborough." + +"Sydney Bamborough," repeated Vassili musingly, with a perfect +expression of innocence on his well-cut face. "I have heard that name +before." + +De Chauxville laughed quietly, as if in appreciation of a pretty trick +which he knew as well as its performer. + +"She is a friend of mine." + +The attache, as he was pleased to call himself, to the Russian Embassy, +leant his arms on the table, bending forward and bringing his large, +fleshy face within a few inches of De Chauxville's keen countenance. + +"That makes all the difference," he said. + +"I thought it would," answered De Chauxville, meeting the steady gaze +firmly. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +IN A WINTER CITY + +St. Petersburg under snow is the most picturesque city in the world. The +town is at its best when a high wind has come from the north to blow all +the snow from the cupola of St. Isaac's, leaving that golden dome, in +all its brilliancy, to gleam and flash over the whitened sepulchre of a +city. + +In winter the Neva is a broad, silent thoroughfare between the Vassili +Ostrow and the Admiralty Gardens. In the winter the pestilential rattle +of the cobble-stones in the side streets is at last silent, and the +merry music of sleigh-bells takes its place. In the winter the +depressing damp of this northern Venice is crystallized and harmless. + +On the English Quay a tall, narrow house stands looking glumly across +the river. It is a suspected house, and watched; for here dwelt Stepan +Lanovitch, secretary and organizer of the Charity League. + +Although the outward appearance of the house is uninviting, the interior +is warm and dainty. The odor of delicate hot-house plants is in the +slightly enervating atmosphere of the apartments. It is a Russian fancy +to fill the dwelling-rooms with delicate, forced foliage and bloom. In +no country of the world are flowers so worshipped, is money so freely +spent in floral decoration. There is something in the sight, and more +especially in the scent of hot-house plants, that appeals to the complex +siftings of three races which constitute a modern Russian. + +We, in the modest self-depreciation which is a national characteristic, +are in the habit of thinking, and sometimes saying, that we have all the +good points of the Angle and the Saxon rolled satisfactorily into one +Anglo-Saxon whole. We are of the opinion that mixed races are the best, +and we leave it to be understood that ours is the only satisfactory +combination. Most of us ignore the fact that there are others at all, +and very few indeed recognize the fact that the Russian of to-day is +essentially a modern outcome of a triple racial alliance of which the +best component is the Tartar. + +The modern Russian is an interesting study, because he has the remnant +of barbaric tastes, with ultra-civilized facilities for gratifying the +same. The best part of him comes from the East, the worst from Paris. + +The Countess Lanovitch belonged to the school existing in Petersburg and +Moscow in the early years of the century--the school that did not speak +Russian but only French, that chose to class the peasants with the +beasts of the field, that apparently expected the deluge to follow soon. + +Her drawing-room, looking out on to the Neva, was characteristic of +herself. Camellias held the floral honors in vase and pot. The French +novel ruled supreme on the side-table. The room was too hot, the chairs +were too soft, the moral atmosphere too lax. One could tell that this +was the dwelling-room of a lazy, self-indulgent, and probably ignorant +woman. + +The countess herself in nowise contradicted this conclusion. She was +seated on a very low chair, exposing a slippered foot to the flame of a +wood fire. She held a magazine in her hand, and yawned as she turned its +pages. She was not so stout in person as her loose and somewhat highly +colored cheeks would imply. Her eyes were dull and sleepy. The woman was +an incarnate yawn. + +She looked up, turning lazily in her chair, to note the darkening of the +air without the double windows. + +"Ah!" she said aloud to herself in French, "when will it be tea-time?" + +As she spoke the words, the bells of a sleigh suddenly stopped with a +rattle beneath the window. + +Immediately the countess rose and went to the mirror over the +mantel-piece. She arranged without enthusiasm her straggling hair, and +put straight a lace cap which was chronically crooked. She looked at her +reflection pessimistically, as well she might. It was the puffy red face +of a middle-aged woman given to petty self-indulgence. + +"While she was engaged in this discouraging pastime the door was opened, +and a maid came in with the air of one who has gained a trifling +advantage by the simple method of peeping. + +"It is M. Steinmetz, Mme. la Comtesse." + +"Ah! Do I look horrible, Celestine? I have been asleep." + +Celestine was French, and laughed with all the charm of that tactful +nation. + +"How can Mme. la Comtesse ask such a thing? Madame might be +thirty-five!" + +It is to be supposed that the staff of angelic recorders have a separate +set of ledgers for French people, with special discounts attaching to +pleasant lies. + +Madame shook her head--and believed. + +"M. Steinmetz is even now taking off his furs in the hall," said +Celestine, retiring toward the door. + +"It is well. We shall want tea." + +Steinmetz came into the room with an exaggerated bow and a twinkle in +his melancholy eyes. + +"Figure to yourself, my dear Steinmetz," said the countess vivaciously. +"Catrina has gone out--on a day like this! Mon Dieu! How gray, how +melancholy!" + +"Without, yes! But here, how different!" replied Steinmetz in French. + +The countess cackled and pointed to a chair. + +"Ah! you always flatter. What news have you, bad character?" + +Steinmetz smiled pensively, not so much suggesting the desire to impart +as the intention to withhold that which the lady called news. + +"I came for yours, countess. You are always amusing--as well as +beautiful," he added, with his mouth well controlled beneath the heavy +mustache. + +The countess shook her head playfully, which had the effect of tilting +her cap to one side. + +"I! Oh, I have nothing to tell you. I am a nun. What can one do--what +can one hear in Petersburg? Now in Paris it is different. But Catrina is +so firm. Have you ever noticed that, Steinmetz? Catrina's firmness, I +mean. She wills a thing, and her will is like a rock. The thing has to +be done. It does itself. It comes to pass. Some people are so. Now I, my +clear Steinmetz, only desire peace and quiet. So I give in. I gave in to +poor Stepan. And now he is exiled. Perhaps if I had been firm--if I had +forbidden all this nonsense about charity--it would have been different. +And Stepan would have been quietly at home instead of in Tomsk, is it, +or Tobolsk? I always forget which. Well, Catrina says we must live in +Petersburg this winter, and--nous voila!" + +Steinmetz shrugged his shoulders with a commiserating smile. He took the +countess's troubles indifferently, as do the rest of us when our +neighbor's burden does not drag upon our own shoulders. It suited him +that Catrina should be in Petersburg, and it is to be feared that the +feelings of the Countess Lanovitch had no weight as against the +convenience of Karl Steinmetz. + +"Ah, well!" he said, "you must console yourself with the thought that +Petersburg is the brighter for some of us. Who is this--another +visitor?" + +The door was thrown open, and Claude de Chauxville walked into the room +with the easy grace which was his. + +"Mme. la Comtesse," he said, bowing over her hand. + +Then he stood upright, and the two men smiled grimly at each other. +Steinmetz had thought that De Chauxville was in London. The Frenchman +counted on the other's duties to retain him in Osterno. + +"Pleasure!" said De Chauxville, shaking hands. + +"It is mine," answered Steinmetz. + +The countess looked from one to the other with a smile on her foolish +face. + +"Ah!" she exclaimed; "how pleasant it is to meet old friends! It is like +by-gone times." + +At this moment the door opened again and Catrina came in. In her rich +furs she looked almost pretty. + +She shook hands eagerly with Steinmetz; her deep eyes searched his face +with a singular, breathless scrutiny. + +"Where are you from?" she asked quickly. + +"London." + +"Catrina," broke in the countess, "you do not remember M. de Chauxville! +He nursed you when you were a child." + +Catrina turned and bowed to De Chauxville. + +"I should have remembered you," he said, "if we had met accidentally. +After all, childhood is but a miniature--is it not so?" + +"Perhaps," answered Catrina; "and when the miniature develops it loses +the delicacy which was its chief charm." + +She turned again to Steinmetz, as if desirous of continuing her +conversation with him. + +"M. de Chauxville, you surely have news?" broke in the countess's +cackling voice. "I have begged M. Steinmetz in vain. He says he has +none; but is one to believe so notorious a bad character?" + +"Madame, it is wise to believe only that which is convenient. But +Steinmetz, I promise you, is the soul of honor. What sort of news do you +crave for? Political, which is dangerous; social, which is scandalous; +or court news, which is invariably false?" + +"Let us have scandal, then." + +"Ah! I must refer you to the soul of honor." + +"Who," answered Steinmetz, "in that official capacity is necessarily +deaf, and in a private capacity is naturally dull." + +He was looking very hard at De Chauxville, as if he was attempting to +make him understand something which he could not say aloud. De +Chauxville, from carelessness or natural perversity, chose to ignore the +persistent eyes. + +"Surely the news is from London," he said lightly; "we have nothing from +Paris." + +He glanced at Steinmetz, who was frowning. + +"I can hardly tell you stale news that comes from London via Paris, can +I?" he continued. + +Steinmetz was tapping impatiently on the floor with his broad boot. + +"About whom--about whom?" cried the countess, clapping her soft hands +together. + +"Well, about Prince Paul," said De Chauxville, looking at Steinmetz with +airy defiance. + +Steinmetz moved a little. He placed himself in front of Catrina, who had +suddenly lost color. She could only see his broad back. The others in +the room could not see her at all. She was rather small, and Steinmetz +hid her as behind a screen. + +"Ah!" he said to the countess, "his marriage! But Madame the Countess +assuredly knows of that." + +"How could she?" put in De Chauxville. + +"The countess knew that Prince Paul was going to be married," explained +Karl Steinmetz very slowly, as if he wished to give some one time. "With +such a man as he, 'going to be' is not very far from being." + +"Then it is an accomplished fact?" said the countess sharply. + +"Yesterday," answered Steinmetz. + +"And you were not there!" exclaimed Countess Lanovitch, with uplifted +hands. + +"Since I was here," answered Steinmetz. + +The countess launched into a disquisition on the heinousness of marrying +any but a compatriot. The tone of her voice was sharp, and the volume of +her words almost amounted to invective. As Steinmetz was obviously not +listening, the lady imparted her views to the Baron de Chauxville. + +Steinmetz waited for some time, then he turned slowly toward Catrina +without actually looking at her. + +"It is dangerous," he said, "to stay in this warm room with your furs." + +"Yes," she answered, rather faintly; "I will go and take them off." + +Steinmetz held the door open for her, but he did not look at her. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +THE THIN END + +"But I confess I cannot understand why I should not be called the +Princess Alexis--there is nothing to be ashamed of in the title. I +presume you have a right to it?" + +Etta looked up from her occupation of fixing a bracelet, with a little +glance of enquiry toward her husband. + +They had been married a month. The honeymoon--a short one--had been +passed in the house of a friend, indeed a relation of Etta's own, a +Scotch peer who was not above lending a shooting-lodge in Scotland on +the tacit understanding that there should be some quid pro quo in the +future. + +In answer Paul merely smiled, affectionately tolerant of her bright +sharpness of manner. Your bright woman in society is apt to be keen at +home. What is called vivacity abroad may easily degenerate into +snappiness by the hearth. + +"I think it is rather ridiculous being called plain Mrs. Howard-Alexis," +added Etta, with a pout. + +They were going to a ball--the first since their marriage. They had just +dined, and Paul had followed his wife into the drawing-room. He took a +simple-minded delight in her beauty, which was of the description that +is at its best in a gorgeous setting. He stood looking at her, noting +her grace, her pretty, studied movements. There were, he reflected, few +women more beautiful--none, in his own estimation, fit to compare with +her. + +She had hitherto been sweetness itself to him, enlivening his lonely +existence, shining suddenly upon his self-contained nature with a +brilliancy that made him feel dull and tongue-tied. + +Already, however, he was beginning to discover certain small +differences, not so much of opinion as of thought, between Etta and +himself. She attached an importance to social function, to social +opinion, to social duties, which he in no wise understood. Invitations +were showered upon them. A man who is a prince and prefers to drop the +title need not seek popularity in London. The very respectable reader +probably knows as well as his humble servant, the writer, that in London +there is always a social circle just a little lower than one's own which +opens its doors with noble, disinterested hospitality, and is prepared +to lick the blacking from any famous foot. + +These invitations Etta accepted eagerly. Some women hold it little short +of a crime to refuse an invitation, and go through life regretting that +there is only one evening to each day. To Paul these calls were nothing +new. His secretary had hitherto drawn a handsome salary for doing little +more than refuse such. + +It was in Etta's nature to be somewhat carried away by glitter. A great +ball-room, brilliant illumination, music, flowers, and diamonds had an +effect upon her which she enjoyed in anticipation. Her eyes gleamed +brightly on reading the mere card of invitation. Some dull and +self-contained men are only to be roused by the clatter and whirl of a +battle-field, and this stirs them into brilliancy, changing them to new +men. Etta, always brilliant, always bright, exceeded herself on her +battle-field--a great social function. + +Since their marriage she had never been so beautiful, her eyes had never +been so sparkling, her color so brilliant as at this moment when she +asked her husband to let her use her title. Hers was the beauty that +blooms not for one man alone, but for the multitude; that feeds not on +the love of one, but on the admiration of many. The murmur of the man in +the street who turned and stared into her carriage was more than the +devotion of her husband. + +"A foreign title," answered Paul, "is nothing in England. I soon found +that out at Eton and at Trinity. It was impossible there. I dropped it, +and I have never taken it up again." + +"Yes, you old stupid, and you have never taken the place you are +entitled to, in consequence." + +"What place? May I button that?" + +"Thanks." + +She held out her arm while he, with fingers much too large for such +dainty work, buttoned her glove. + +"The place in society," she answered. + +"Oh; does that matter? I never thought of it." + +"Of course it matters," answered the lady, with an astonished little +laugh. (It is wonderful what an importance we attach to that which has +been dearly won.) "Of course it matters," answered Etta; "more +than--well, more than any thing." + +"But the position that depends upon a foreign title cannot be of much +value," said the pupil of Karl Steinmetz. + +Etta shook her pretty head reflectively. + +"Of course," she answered, "money makes a position of its own, and +every-body knows that you are a prince; but it would be nicer, with the +servants and every-body, to be a princess." + +"I am afraid I cannot do it," said Paul. + +"Then there is some reason for it," answered his wife, looking at him +sharply. + +"Yes, there is." + +"Ah!" + +"The reason is the responsibility that attaches to the very title you +wish to wear." + +The lady smiled, a little scornfully perhaps. + +"Oh! Your grubby old peasants, I suppose," she said. + +"Yes. You remember, Etta, what I told you before we were married--about +the people, I mean?" + +"Oh, yes!" answered Etta, glancing at the clock and hiding a little yawn +behind her fan. + +"I did not tell you all," went on Paul, "partly because it was +inexpedient, partly because I feared it might bore you. I only told you +that I was vaguely interested in the peasants, and thought it would be a +good thing if they could be gradually educated into a greater +self-respect, a greater regard for cleanliness and that sort of thing." + +"Yes, dear, I remember," answered Etta, listlessly contemplating her +gloved hands. + +"Well, I have not contented myself with thinking this during the last +two or three years. I have tried to put it into practice. Steinmetz and +I have lived at Osterno six months of the year on purpose to organize +matters on the estate. I was deeply implicated in the--Charity League--" + +Etta dropped her fan with a clatter into the fender. + +"Oh! I hope it is not broken," she gasped, with a singular +breathlessness. + +"I do not think so," replied Paul, picking up the fan and returning it +to her. "Why, you look quite white! What does it matter if it is broken? +You have others." + +"Yes, but--" Etta paused, opening the fan and examining the sticks so +closely that her face was hidden by the feathers. "Yes, but I like this +one. What is the Charity League, dear?" + +"It was a large organization gotten up by the hereditary nobles of +Russia to educate the people and better their circumstances by +discriminate charity. Of course it had to be kept secret, as the +bureaucracy is against any attempt to civilize the people--against +education or the dissemination of news. The thing was organized. We were +just getting to work when some one stole the papers of the League from +the house of Count Stepan Lanovitch and sold them to the Government. The +whole thing was broken up; Lanovitch and others were exiled, I bolted +home, and Steinmetz faced the storm alone in Osterno. He was too clever +for them, and nothing was brought home to us. But you will understand +that it is necessary for us to avoid any notoriety, to live as quietly +and privately as possible." + +"Yes, of course; but--" + +"But what?" + +"You can never go back to Russia," said Etta slowly, feeling her ground, +as it were. + +"Oh, yes, I can. I was just coming to that. I want to go back this +winter. There is so much to be done. And I want you to come with me." + +"No, Paul. No, no! I couldn't do that!" cried Etta, with a ring of +horror in her voice, strangely out of keeping with her peaceful and +luxurious surroundings. + +"Why not?" asked the man who had never known fear. + +"Oh, I should be afraid. I couldn't. I hate Russia!" + +"But you don't know it." + +"No," answered Etta, turning away and busying herself with her long +silken train. "No, of course not. Only Petersburg, I mean. But I have +heard what it is. So cold and dismal and miserable. I feel the cold so +horribly. I wanted to go to the Riviera this winter. I really think, +Paul, you are asking me too much." + +"I am only asking a proof that you care for me." + +Etta gave a little laugh--a nervous laugh with no mirth in it. + +"A proof! But that is so bourgeois and unnecessary. Haven't you proof +enough, since I am your wife?" + +Paul looked at her without any sign of yielding. His attitude, his whole +being, was expressive of that immovability of purpose which had hitherto +been concealed from her by his quiet manner. Steinmetz knew of the +mental barrier within this Anglo-Russian soul, against which prayer and +argument were alike unavailing. The German had run against it once or +twice in the course of their joint labors, and had invariably given way +at once. + +Etta looked at him. The color was coming back to her face in patches. +There was something unsteady in her eyes--something suggesting that for +the first time in her life she was daunted by a man. It was not Paul's +speech, but his silence that alarmed her. She felt that trivial +arguments, small feminine reasons, were without weight. + +"Now that you are married," she said, "I do not think you have any right +to risk your life and your position for a fad." + +"I have done it with impunity for the last two or three years," he +answered. "With ordinary precautions the risk is small. I have begun the +thing now; I must go on with it." + +"But the country is not safe for us--for you." + +"Oh, yes, it is," answered Paul. "As safe as ever it has been." + +Etta paused. She turned round and looked into the fire. He could not see +her face. + +"Then the Ch--Charity League is forgotten?" she said. + +"No," answered her husband quietly. "It will not be forgotten until we +have found out who sold us to the Government." + +Etta's lips moved in a singular way. She drew them in and held them with +her teeth. For a moment her beautiful face wore a hunted expression of +fear. + +"What will you gain by that?" she asked evenly. + +"I? Oh, nothing. I do not care one way or the other. But there are some +people who want the man--very much." + +Etta drew in a long, deep breath. + +"I will go to Osterno with you, if you like," she said. "Only--only I +must have Maggie with me." + +"Yes, if you like," answered Paul, in some surprise. + +The clock struck ten, and Etta's eyes recovered their brightness. +Womanlike, she lived for the present. The responsibility of the future +is essentially a man's affair. The present contained a ball, and it was +only in the future that Osterno and Russia had to be faced. Let us also +give Etta Alexis her due. She was almost fearless. It is permissible to +the bravest to be startled. She was now quite collected. The even, +delicate color had returned to her face. + +"Maggie is such a splendid companion," she said lightly. "She is so easy +to please. I think she would come if you asked her, Paul." + +"If you want her, I shall ask her, of course; but it may hinder us a +little. I thought you might be able to help us--with the women, you +know." + +There was a queer little smile on Etta's face--a smile, one might have +thought, of contempt. + +"Yes, of course," she said. "It is so nice to be able to do good with +one's money." + +Paul looked at her in his slow, grave way, but he said nothing. He knew +that his wife was cleverer and brighter than himself. He was simple +enough to think that this superiority of intellect might be devoted to +the good of the peasants of Osterno. + +"It is not a bad place," he said--"a very fine castle, one of the finest +in Europe. Before I came away I gave orders for your rooms to be done +up. I should like every thing to be nice for you." + +"I know you would, dear," she answered, glancing at the clock. (The +carriage was ordered for a quarter-past ten.) "But I suppose," she went +on, "that, socially speaking, we shall be rather isolated. Our neighbors +are few and far between." + +"The nearest," said Paul quietly, "are the Lanovitches." + +"_Who_?" + +"The Lanovitches. Do you know them?" + +"Of course not," answered Etta sharply. "But I seem to know the name. +Were there any in St. Petersburg?" + +"The same people," answered Paul; "Count Stepan Lanovitch." + +Etta was looking at her husband with her bright smile. It was a little +too bright, perhaps. Her eyes had a gleam in them. She was conscious of +being beautifully dressed, conscious of her own matchless beauty, almost +dauntless, like a very strong man armed. + +"Well, I think I am a model wife," she said: "to give in meekly to your +tyranny; to go and bury myself in the heart of Russia in the middle of +winter--By the way, we must buy some furs; that will be rather exciting. +But you must not expect me to be very intimate with your Russian +friends. I am not quite sure that I like Russians"--she went toward him, +laying her two hands gently on his broad breast and looking up at +him--"not quite sure--especially Russian princes who bully their wives. +You may kiss me, however, but be very careful. Now I must go and finish +dressing. We shall be late as it is." + +She gathered together her fan and gloves, for she had petulantly dragged +off a pair which did not fit. + +"And you will ask Maggie to come with us?" she said. + +He held open the door for her to pass out, gravely polite even to his +wife--this old-fashioned man. + +"Yes," he answered; "but why do you want me to ask her?" + +"Because I want her to come." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +CHARITY + +In these democratic days a very democratic theory has exploded. Not so +very long ago we believed, or made semblance of belief, that it is +useless to put a high price upon a ticket with the object of securing +that selectness for which the high-born crave. "If they want to come," +Lady Champignon (wife of Alderman Champignon) would say, "they do not +mind paying the extra half-guinea." + +But Lady Champignon was wrong. It is not that the self-made man cannot +or will not pay two guineas for a ball-ticket. It is merely that, in his +commercial way, he thinks that he will not have his money's worth, and +therefore prefers keeping his two guineas to spend on something more +tangible--say food. The nouveau riche never quite purges his mind of the +instinct commercial, and it therefore goes against the grain to pay +heavily for a form of entertainment which his soul had not the +opportunity of learning to love in its youth. The aristocrat, on the +other hand, has usually been brought up to the cultivation of enjoyment, +and he therefore spends with perfect equanimity more on his pleasure +than the bourgeois mind can countenance. + +The ball to which Paul and Etta were going was managed by some titled +ladies who knew their business well. The price of the tickets was +fabulous. The lady patronesses of the great Charity Ball were tactful +and unabashed. They drew the necessary line (never more necessary than +it is to-day) with a firm hand. + +The success of the ball was therefore a foregone conclusion. In French +fiction there is invariably a murmur of applause when the heroine enters +a room full of people, which fact serves, at all events, to show the +breeding and social status of persons with whom French novelists are in +the habit of associating. There was therefore no applause when Paul and +Etta made their appearance, but that lady had, nevertheless, the +satisfaction of perceiving glances, not only of admiration, but of +interest and even of disapproval, among her own sex. Her dress she knew +to be perfect, and when she perceived the craning pale face of the +inevitable lady-journalist, peering between the balusters of a gallery, +she thoughtfully took up a prominent position immediately beneath that +gallery, and slowly turned round like a beautifully garnished joint +before the fire of cheap publicity. + +To Paul this ball was much like others. There were a number of the +friends of his youth--tall, clean-featured, clean-limbed men, with a +tendency toward length and spareness--who greeted him almost +affectionately. Some of them introduced him to their wives and sisters, +which ladies duly set him down as nice but dull--a form of faint praise +which failed to damn. There were a number of ladies to whom it was +necessary for him to bow in acknowledgment of past favors which had +missed their mark. From the gallery the washed-out female journalists +poked out their eager faces--for they were women still, and liked to +look upon a man when he was strong. + +And all the while Karl Steinmetz was storming in his guttural English at +the door, upbraiding hired waiters for their stupidity in accepting two +literal facts literally. The one fact was that they were forbidden to +admit any one without a ticket; the second fact being that tickets were +not to be obtained at the price of either one or the other of the two +great motives of man--Love or Money. + +Steinmetz was Teutonic and imposing, with the ribbon of a great Order on +his breast. He mentioned the names of several ladies who might have +been, but were not, of the committee. Finally, however, he mentioned the +historic name of one whose husband had braved more than one Russian +emperor successfully for England. + +"Yes, me lord, her ladyship's here," answered the man. + +Steinmetz wrote on a card, "In memory of '56, let me in," and sent in +the missive. + +A few minutes later a stout, smiling lady came toward him with +outstretched hand. + +"What mischief are you about?" she enquired, "you stormy petrel! This is +no place for your deep-laid machinations. We are here to enjoy ourselves +and found a hospital. Come in, however. I am delighted to see you. You +used to be a famous dancer--well, some little time ago." + +"Yes, my dear countess, let us say some little time ago. Ach, those were +days! those were days! You do not mind the liberty I have taken?" + +"I am glad you took it. But your card gave me a little tug at the heart. +It brought back so much. And still plain Karl Steinmetz--after all. We +used to think much of you in the old days. Who would have thought that +all the honors would have slipped past you?" + +Steinmetz shrugged his shoulders with a heart-whole laugh. + +"Ah, what matter? Who cares, so long as my old friends remember me? Who +would have thought, my dear madam, that the map of Europe would have +been painted the colors it is to-day? It was a kaleidoscope--the clatter +of many stools, and I fell down between them all. Still plain Karl +Steinmetz--still very much at your service. Shall I send my check for +five guineas to you?" + +"Yes, do; I am secretary. Always businesslike; a wonderful man you are +still." + +"And you, my dear countess, a wonderful lady. Always gay, always +courageous. I have heard and sympathized. I have heard of many blows and +wounds that you have received in the battle we began--well, some little +time ago." + +"Ah, don't mention them! They hurt none the less because we cover them +with a smile, eh? I dare say you know. You have been in the thick of the +fight yourself. But you did not come here to chat with me, though your +manner might lead one to think so. I will not keep you." + +"I came to see Prince Pavlo," answered Steinmetz. "I must thank you for +enabling me to do so. I may not see you again this evening. My best +thanks, my very dear lady." + +He bowed, and with his half-humorous, half-melancholy smile, left her. + +The first face he recognized was a pretty one. Miss Maggie Delafield was +just turning away from a partner who was taking his conge, when she +looked across the room and saw Steinmetz. He had only met her once, +barely exchanging six words with her, and her frank, friendly bow was +rather a surprise to him. She came toward him, holding out her hand with +an open friendliness which this young lady was in the habit of bestowing +upon men and women impartially--upon persons of either sex who happened +to meet with her approval. She did not know what made her incline to +like this man, neither did she seek to know. In a quiet, British way +Miss Delafield was a creature of impulse. Her likes and dislikes were a +matter of instinct, and, much as one respects the doctrine of charity, +it is a question whether an instinctive dislike should be quashed by an +exaggerated sense of neighborly duty. Steinmetz she liked, and there was +an end to it. + +"I was afraid you did not recognize me," she said. + +"My life has not so many pleasures that I can afford to forget one of +them," replied Steinmetz, in his somewhat old-fashioned courtesy. "But +an old--buffer, shall I say?--hardly expects to be taken much notice of +by young ladies at a ball." + +"It is not ten minutes since Paul assured me that you were the best +dancer that Vienna ever produced," said the girl, looking at him with +bright, honest eyes. + +Karl Steinmetz looked down at her, for he was a tall man when Paul +Alexis was not near. His quiet gray eyes were almost affectionate. There +was a sudden sympathy between these two, and sudden sympathies are the +best. + +"Will you give an old man a trial?" he asked. "They will laugh at you." + +She handed him her programme. + +"Let them laugh!" she said. + +He took the next dance, which happened to be vacant on her card. Almost +immediately the music began, and they glided off together. Maggie began +with the feeling that she was dancing with her own father, but this wore +off before they had made much progress through the crowd, and gave way +to the sensation that she had for partner the best dancer she had ever +met, gray-haired, stout, and middle-aged. + +"I wanted to speak to you," she said. + +"Ah!" Steinmetz answered. He was steering with infinite skill. In that +room full of dancers no one touched Maggie's elbow or the swing of her +dress, and she, who knew what such things meant, smiled as she noted it. + +"I have been asked to go and stay at Osterno," she said. "Shall I go?" + +"By whom?" + +"By Paul." + +"Then go," said Steinmetz, making one of the few mistakes of his life. + +"You think so--you want me to go?" + +"Ach! you must not put it like that. How well you dance--colossal! But +it does not affect me--your going, frauelein." + +"Since you will be there?" + +"Does that make a difference, my dear young lady?" + +"Of course it does." + +"I wonder why." + +"So do I," answered Maggie frankly. "I wonder why. I have been wondering +why, ever since Paul asked me. If you had not been going I should have +said 'No' at once." + +Karl Steinmetz laughed quietly. + +"What do I represent?" he asked. + +"Safety," she replied at once. + +She gave a queer little laugh and went on dancing. + +"And Paul?" he said, after a little while. + +"Strength," replied Maggie promptly. + +He looked down at her--a momentary glance of wonder. He was like a +woman, inasmuch as he judged a person by a flicker of the eyelids--a +glance, a silence--in preference to judging by the spoken word. + +"Then with us both to take care of you, may we hope that you will brave +the perils of Osterno? Ah--the music is stopping." + +"If I may assure my mother that there are no perils." + +Something took place beneath the gray mustache--a smile or a pursing up +of the lips in doubt. + +"Ah, I cannot go so far as that. You may assure Lady Delafield that I +will protect you as I would my own daughter. If--well, if the good God +in heaven had not had other uses for me I should have had a daughter of +your age. Ach! the music has stopped. The music always does stop, Miss +Delafield; that is the worst of it. Thank you for dancing with an old +buffer." + +He took her back to her chaperon, bowed in his old-world way to both +ladies, and left them. + +"If I can help it, my very dear young friend," he said to himself as he +crossed the room, looking for Paul, "you will not go to Osterno." + +He found Paul talking to two men. + +"You here!" said Paul, in surprise. + +"Yes," answered Steinmetz, shaking hands. "I gave Lady Fontain five +guineas to let me in, and now I want a couple of chairs and a quiet +corner, if the money includes such." + +"Come up into the gallery," replied Paul. + +A certain listlessness which had been his a moment before vanished when +Paul recognized his friend. He led the way up the narrow stairs. In the +gallery they found a few people--couples seeking, like themselves, a +rare solitude. + +"What news?" asked Paul, sitting down. + +"Bad!" replied Steinmetz. "We have had the misfortune to make a +dangerous enemy--Claude de Chauxville." + +"Claude de Chauxville," repeated Paul. + +"Yes. He wanted to marry your wife--for her money." + +Paul leaned forward and dragged at his great fair mustache. He was not a +subtle man, analyzing his own thoughts. Had he been, he might have +wondered why he was not more jealous in respect to Etta. + +"Or," went on Steinmetz, "it may have been--the other thing. It is a +singular thing that many men incapable of a lifelong love, can conceive +a lifelong hatred based on that love. Claude de Chauxville has hated me +all his life; for very good reasons, no doubt. You are now included in +his antipathy because you married madame." + +"I dare say," replied Paul carelessly. "But I am not afraid of Claude de +Chauxville, or any other man." + +"I am," said Steinmetz. "He is up to some mischief. I was calling on the +Countess Lanovitch in Petersburg when in walked Claude de Chauxville. He +was constrained at the sight of my stout person, and showed it, which +was a mistake. Now, what is he doing in Petersburg? He has not been +there for ten years, at least. He has no friends there. He revived a +minute acquaintance with the Countess Lanovitch, who is a fool of the +very first water. Before I came away I heard from Catrina that he had +wheedled an invitation to Thors out of the old lady. Why, my friend, +why?" + +Paul reflected, with a frown. + +"We do not want him out there," he said. + +"No; and if he goes there you must remain in England this winter." + +Paul looked up sharply. + +"I do not want to do that. It is all arranged," he said. "Etta was very +much against going at first, but I persuaded her to do so. It would be a +mistake not to go now." + +Looking at him gravely, Steinmetz muttered, "I advise you not to go." + +Paul shrugged his shoulders. + +"I am sorry," he said. "It is too late now. Besides, I have invited Miss +Delafield, and she has practically accepted." + +"Does that matter?" asked Steinmetz quietly. + +"Yes. I do not want her to think that I am a changeable sort of person." + +Steinmetz rose, and standing with his two hands on the marble rail he +looked down into the room below. The music of a waltz was just +beginning, and some of the more enthusiastic spirits had already begun +dancing, moving in and out among the uniforms and gay dresses. + +"Well," he said resignedly; "it is as you will. There is a certain +pleasure in outwitting De Chauxville. He is so d--d clever!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +IN THE CHAMPS ELYSEES + +"You must accept," Steinmetz repeated to Paul. "There is no help for it. +We cannot afford to offend Vassili, of all people in the world." + +They were standing together in the saloon of a suite of rooms assigned +for the time to Paul and his party in the Hotel Bristol in Paris. +Steinmetz, who held an open letter in his hand, looked out of the window +across the quiet Place Vendome. A north wind was blowing with true +Parisian keenness, driving before it a fine snow, which adhered bleakly +to the northern face of a column which is chiefly remarkable for the +facility with which it falls and rises again. + +Steinmetz looked at the letter with a queer smile. He held it out from +him as if he distrusted the very stationery. + +"So friendly," he exclaimed; "so very friendly! 'Ce bon Steinmetz' he +calls me. 'Ce bon Steinmetz'--confound his cheek! He hopes that his dear +prince will waive ceremony and bring his charming princess to dine quite +en famille at his little pied a terre in the Champs Elysees. He +guarantees that only his sister, the marquise, will be present, and he +hopes that 'Ce bon Steinmetz,' will accompany you, and also the young +lady, the cousin of the princess." + +Steinmetz threw the letter down on the table, left it there for a +moment, and then, picking it up, he crossed the room and threw it into +the fire. + +"Which means," he explained, "that M. Vassili knows we are here, and +unless we dine with him we shall be subjected to annoyance and delay on +the frontier by a stupid--a singularly and suspiciously stupid--minor +official. If we refuse, Vassili will conclude that we are afraid of him. +Therefore we must accept. Especially as Vassili has his weak points. He +loves a lord, 'Ce Vassili.' If you accept on some of that stationery I +ordered for you with a colossal gold coronet, that will already be of +some effect. A chain is as strong as its weakest link. M. Vassili's +weakest link will be touched by your gorgeous note-paper. If ce cher +prince and la charmante princesse are gracious to him, Vassili is +already robbed of half his danger." + +Paul laughed. It was his habit either to laugh or to grumble at Karl +Steinmetz's somewhat subtle precautions. The word "danger" invariably +made him laugh, with a ring in his voice which seemed to betoken +enjoyment. + +"Of course," he said, "I leave these matters to you. Let us show +Vassili, at all events, that we are not afraid of him." + +"Then sit down and accept." + +That which M. Vassili was pleased to call his little dog-hole in the +Champs Elysees was, in fact, a gorgeous house in the tawdry style of +modern Paris--resplendent in gray iron railings, and high gate-posts +surmounted by green cactus plants cunningly devised in cast iron. + +The heavy front door was thrown open by a lackey, and others bowed in +the halls as if by machinery. Two maids pounced upon the ladies with the +self-assurance of their kind and country, and led the way upstairs, +while the men removed fur coats in the hall. It was all very princely +and gorgeous and Parisian. + +Vassili and his sister the marquise--a stout lady in ruby velvet and +amethysts, who invariably caused Maggie Delafield's mouth to twitch +whenever she opened her own during the evening--received the guests in +the drawing-room. They were standing on the white fur hearth-rug side by +side, when the doors were dramatically thrown open, and the servant +rolled the names unctuously over his tongue. + +Steinmetz, who was behind, saw everything. He saw Vassili's masklike +face contract with stupefaction when he set eyes on Etta. He saw the +self-contained Russian give a little gasp, and mutter an exclamation +before he collected himself sufficiently to bow and conceal his face. +But he could not see Etta's face for a moment or two--until the formal +greetings were over. When he did see it, he noted that it was as white +as marble. + +"Aha! Ce bon Steinmetz!" cried Vassili, with less formality, holding out +his hand with frank and boyish good humor. + +"Aha! Ce cher Vassili!" returned Steinmetz, taking the hand. + +"It is good of you, M. le Prince, and you, madame, to honor us in our +small house," said the marquise in a guttural voice such as one might +expect from within ruby velvet and amethysts. Thereafter she subsided +into silence and obscurity so far as the evening was concerned and the +present historian is interested. + +"So," said Vassili, with a comprehensive bow to all his guests--"so you +are bound for Russia. But I envy you--I envy you. You know Russia, Mme. +la Princesse?" + +Etta met his veiled gaze calmly. + +"A little," she replied. + +There was no sign of recognition in his eyes now, nor pallor on her +face. + +"A beautiful country, but the rest of Europe does not believe it. And +the estate of the prince is one of the vastest, if not the most +beautiful. It is a sporting estate, is it not, prince?" + +"Essentially so," replied Paul. "Bears, wolves, deer, besides, of +course, black game, capercailzie, ptarmigan--every thing one could +desire." + +"Speaking as a sportsman," suggested Vassili gravely. + +"Speaking as a sportsman." + +"Of course--" Vassili paused, and with a little gesture of the hand +included Steinmetz in the conversation. It may have been that he +preferred to have him talking than watching. "Of course, like all great +Russian landholders, you have your troubles with the people, though you +are not, strictly speaking, within the famine district." + +"Not quite; we are not starving, but we are hungry," said Steinmetz +bluntly. + +Vassili laughed, and shook a gold eye-glass chidingly. + +"Ah, my friend, your old pernicious habit of calling a spade a spade! It +is unfortunate that they should hunger a little, but what will you? They +must learn to be provident, to work harder and drink less. With such +people experience is the only taskmaster possible. It is useless talking +to them. It is dangerous to pauperize them. Besides, the accounts that +one reads in the newspapers are manifestly absurd and exaggerated. You +must not, mademoiselle," he said, turning courteously to Maggie, "you +must not believe all you are told about Russia." + +"I do not," replied Maggie, with an honest smile which completely +baffled M. Vassili. He had not had much to do with people who smiled +honestly. + +"Vrai!" he said, with grave emphasis; "I am not joking. It is a matter +of the strictest fact that fiction has for the moment fixed its fancy +upon my country--just as it has upon the East End of your London. Mon +Dieu! what a lot of harm fiction with a purpose can do!" + +"But we do not take our facts from fiction in England," said Maggie. + +"Nor," put in Steinmetz, with his blandest smile, "do we allow fiction +to affect our facts." + +Vassili glanced at Steinmetz sideways. + +"Here is dinner," he said. "Mme. la Princesse, may I have the honor?" + +The table was gorgeously decorated; the wine was perfect; the dishes +Parisian. Every thing was brilliant, and Etta's spirits rose. Such +little things affect the spirits of such little-minded women. It +requires a certain mental reserve from which to extract cheerfulness +over a chop and a pint of beer withal, served on a doubtful cloth. But +some of us find it easy enough to be witty and brilliant over good wine +and a perfectly appointed table. + +"It is exile; it is nothing short of exile," protested Vassili, who led +the conversation. "Much as I admire my own country, as a country, I do +not pretend to regret a fate that keeps me resident in Paris. For men it +is different, but for madame, and for you, mademoiselle--ach!" He +shrugged his shoulders and looked up to the ceiling in mute appeal to +the gods above it. "Beauty, brilliancy, wit--they are all lost in +Russia." + +He bowed to the princess, who was looking, and to Maggie, who was not. + +"What would Paris say if it knew what it was losing?" he added in a +lower tone to Etta, who smiled, well pleased. She was not always able to +distinguish between impertinence and flattery. And indeed they are so +closely allied that the distinction is subtle. + +Steinmetz, on the left hand of the marquise, addressed one or two +remarks to that lady, who replied with her mouth full. He soon +discovered that that which was before her interested her more than any +thing around, and during the banquet he contented himself by uttering an +exclamation of delight at a particular flavor which the lady was kind +enough to point out to him with an eloquent and emphatic fork from time +to time. + +Vassili noted this with some disgust. He would have preferred that Karl +Steinmetz were greedy or more conversational. + +"But," the host added aloud, "ladies are so good. Perhaps you are +interested in the peasants?" + +Etta looked at Steinmetz, who gave an imperceptible nod. + +"Yes," she answered, "I am." + +Vassili followed her glance, and found Steinmetz eating with grave +appreciation of the fare provided. + +"Ah!" he said in an expectant tone; "then you will no doubt pass much of +your time in endeavoring to alleviate their troubles--their +self-inflicted troubles, with all deference to ce cher prince." + +"Why with deference to me?" asked Paul, looking up quietly, with +something in his steady gaze that made Maggie glance anxiously at +Steinmetz. + +"Well, I understand that you hold different opinions," said the Russian. + +"Not at all," answered Paul. "I admit that the peasants have themselves +to blame--just as a dog has himself to blame when he is caught in a +trap." + +"Is the case analogous? Let me recommend those olives--I have them from +Barcelona by a courier." + +"Quite," answered Paul; "and it is the obvious duty of those who know +better to teach the dog to avoid the places where the traps are set. +Thanks, the olives are excellent." + +"Ah!" said Vassili, turning courteously to Maggie, "I sometimes thank my +star that I am not a landholder--only a poor bureaucrat. It is so +difficult to comprehend these questions, mademoiselle. But of all men in +or out of Russia it is possible our dear prince knows best of what he is +talking." + +"Oh, no!" disclaimed Paul, with that gravity at which some were ready to +laugh. "I only judge in a small way from, a small experience." + +"Ah! you are too modest. You know the peasants thoroughly, you +understand them, you love them--so, at least, I have been told. Is it +not so, Mme. la Princesse?" + +Karl Steinmetz was frowning over an olive. + +"I really do not know," said Etta, who had glanced across the table. + +"I assure you, madame, it is so. I am always hearing good of you, +prince." + +"From whom?" asked Paul. + +Vassili shrugged his peculiarly square shoulders. + +"Ah! From all and sundry." + +"I did not know the prince had so many enemies," said Steinmetz bluntly, +whereat the marquise laughed suddenly, and apparently approached within +bowing distance of apoplexy. + +In such wise the conversation went on during the dinner, which was a +long one. Continually, repeatedly, Vassili approached the subject of +Osterno and the daily life in that sequestered country. But those who +knew were silent, and it was obvious that Etta and Maggie were ignorant +of the life to which they were going. + +From time to time Vassili raised his dull, yellow eyes to the servants, +who d'ailleurs were doing their work perfectly, and invariably the +master's glance fell to the glasses again. These the servants never left +in peace--constantly replenishing, constantly watching with that +assiduity which makes men thirsty against their will by reason of the +repeated reminder. + +But tongues wagged no more freely for the choice vintages poured upon +them. Paul had a grave, strong head and that self-control against which +alcohol may ply itself in vain. Karl Steinmetz had taken his degree at +Heidelberg. He was a seasoned vessel, having passed that way before. + +Etta was bright enough--amusing, light, and gay--so long as it was a +question of mere social gossip; but whenever Vassili spoke of the +country to which he expressed so deep a devotion, she, seeming to take +her cue from her husband and his agent, fell to pleasant, non-committing +silence. + +It was only after dinner, in the drawing-room, while musicians +discoursed Offenbach and Rossini from behind a screen of fern and +flower, that Vassili found an opportunity of addressing himself directly +to Etta. In part she desired this opportunity, with a breathless +apprehension behind her bright society smile. Without her assistance he +never would have had it. + +"It is most kind of you," he said in French, which language had been +spoken all the evening in courtesy to the marquise, who was now +asleep--"it is most kind of you to condescend to visit my poor house, +princess. Believe me, I feel the honor deeply. When you first came into +the room--you may have observed it--I was quite taken aback. I--I have +read in books of beauty capable of taking away a man's breath. You must +excuse me--I am a plain-spoken man. I never met it until this evening." + +Etta excused him readily enough. She could forgive plenty of +plain-speaking of this description. Had she not been inordinately vain, +this woman, like many, would have been extraordinarily clever. She +laughed, with little sidelong glances. + +"I only hope that you will honor Paris on your way home to England," +went on Vassili, who had a wonderful knack of judging men and women, +especially shallow ones. "Now, when may that be? When may we hope to see +you again? How long will you be in Russia, and--" + +"Ce Vassili is the best English scholar I know!" broke in Steinmetz, who +had approached somewhat quietly. "But he will not talk, princess--he is +so shy." + +Paul was approaching also. It was eleven o'clock, he said, and +travellers who had to make an early start would do well to get home to +bed. + +When the tall doors had been closed behind the departing guests, Vassili +walked slowly to the fire-place. He posted himself on the bear-skin +hearthrug, his perfectly shod feet well apart--a fine dignified figure +of a man, of erect and military carriage; a very mask of a +face--soulless, colorless, emotionless ever. + +He stood biting at his thumb-nail, looking at the door through which +Etta Alexis had just passed in all the glory of her beauty, wealth, and +position. + +"The woman," he said slowly, "who sold me the Charity League papers--and +she thinks I do not recognize her!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +ON THE NEVA + +Karl Steinmetz had apparently been transacting business on the Vassili +Ostrov, which the travelled reader doubtless knows as the northern bank +of the Neva, a part of Petersburg--an island, as the name tells us, +where business is transacted; where steamers land their cargoes and +riverside loafers impede the traffic. + +What the business of Karl Steinmetz may have been is not of moment or +interest; moreover, it was essentially the affair of a man capable of +holding his own and his tongue against the world. + +He was recrossing the river, not by the bridge, which requires a doffed +hat by reason of its shrine, but by one of the numerous roads cut across +the ice from bank to bank. He duly reached the southern shore, ascending +to the Admiralty Gardens by a flight of sanded steps. Here he lighted a +cigar, and, tucking his hands deep into the pockets of his fur coat, he +proceeded to walk slowly through the bare and deserted public garden. + +A girl had crossed the river in front of him at a smart pace. She now +slackened her speed so much as to allow him to pass her. Karl Steinmetz +noticed the action. He noticed most things--this dull German. Presently +she passed him again. She dropped her umbrella, and before picking it up +described a circle with it--a manoeuvre remarkably like a signal. Then +she turned abruptly and looked into his face, displaying a pleasing +little round physiognomy with a smiling mouth and exaggeratedly grave +eyes. It was a face of all too common a type in these days of cheap +educational literature--the face of a womanly woman engaged in unwomanly +work. + +Then she came back. + +Steinmetz raised his hat in his most fatherly way. + +"My dear young lady," he said in Russian, "if my personal appearance has +made so profound an impression as my vanity prompts me to believe, would +it not be decorous of you to conceal your feelings beneath a maiden +modesty? If, on the other hand, the signals you have been making to me +are of profound political importance, let me assure you that I am no +Nihilist." + +"Then," said the girl, beginning to walk by his side, "what are you?" + +"What you see--a stout middle-aged man in easy circumstances, happily +placed in social obscurity. Which means that I have few enemies and +fewer friends." + +The girl looked as if she would like to laugh, had such exercise been in +keeping with a professional etiquette. + +"Your name is Karl Steinmetz," she said gravely. + +"That is the name by which I am known to a large staff of creditors," +replied he. + +"If you will go to No. 4, Passage Kazan, at the back of the cathedral, +second-floor back room on the left at the top of the stairs, and go +straight into the room, you will find a friend who wishes to see you," +she said, as one repeating a lesson by rote. + +"And who are you, my dear young lady!" + +"I--I am no one. I am only a paid agent." + +"Ah!" + +They walked on in silence a few paces. The bells of St. Isaac's Church +suddenly burst out into a wild carillon, as is their way, effectually +preventing further conversation for a few moments. + +"Will you go?" asked the girl, when the sound had broken off as suddenly +as it had commenced. + +"Probably. I am curious and not nervous--except of damp sheets. My +anonymous friend does not expect me to stay all night, I presume. Did +he--or is it a she, my fatal beauty?--did _it_ not name an hour?" + +"Between now and seven o'clock." + +"Thank you." + +"God be with you!" said the girl, suddenly wheeling round and walking +away. + +Without looking after her Steinmetz walked on, gradually increasing his +pace. In a few minutes he reached the large house standing within iron +gates at the upper end of the English quay, the house of Prince Pavlo +Howard Alexis. + +He found Paul alone in his study. In a few words he explained the +situation. + +"What do you think it means?" asked the prince. + +"Heaven only knows!" + +"And you will go?" + +"Of course," replied Steinmetz. "I love a mystery, especially in +Petersburg. It sounds so like a romance written in the Kennington Road +by a lady who has never been nearer to Russia than Margate." + +"I had better go with you," said Paul. + +"Gott! No!" exclaimed Steinmetz; "I must go alone. I will take Parks to +drive the sleigh, if I may, though. Parks is a steady man, who loves a +rough-and-tumble. A typical British coachman--the brave Parks!" + +"Back in time for dinner?" asked Paul. + +"I hope so. I have had such mysterious appointments thrust upon me +before. It is probably a friend who wants a hundred-ruble note until +next Monday." + +The cathedral clock struck six as Karl Steinmetz turned out of the +Nevski Prospekt into the large square before the sacred edifice. He soon +found the Kazan Passage--a very nest of toyshops--and, following the +directions given, he mounted a narrow staircase. He knocked at the door +on the left hand at the top of the stairs. + +"Come in!" said a voice which caused him to start. + +He pushed open the door. The room was a small one, brilliantly lighted +by a paraffin lamp. At the table sat an old man with broad benevolent +face, high forehead, thin hair, and that smile which savors of the milk +of human kindness, and in England suggests Nonconformity. + +"You!" ejaculated Steinmetz. "Stepan!" + +"Yes. Come in and close the door." + +He laid aside his pen, extended his hand, and, rising, kissed Karl +Steinmetz on both cheeks after the manner of Russians. + +"Yes, my dear Karl. It seems that the good God has still a little work +for Stepan Lanovitch to do. I got away quite easily, in the usual way, +through a paid Evasion Agency. I have been forwarded from pillar to post +like a prize fowl, and reached Petersburg last night. I have not long to +stay. I am going south. I may be able to do some good yet. I hear that +Paul is working wonders in Tver." + +"What about money?" asked Steinmetz, who was always practical. + +"Catrina sent it, the dear child! That is one of the conditions made by +the Agency--a hard one. I am to see no relations. My wife--well, bon +Dieu! it does not matter much. She is occupied in keeping herself warm, +no doubt. But Catrina! that is a different matter. Tell me--how is she? +That is the first thing I want to know." + +"She is well," answered Steinmetz. "I saw her yesterday." + +"And happy?" The broad-faced man looked into Steinmetz's face with +considerable keenness. + +"Yes." + +It was a moment for mental reservations. One wonders whether such are +taken account of in heaven. + +"And Paul?" asked the Count Stepan Lanovitch at once. "Tell me about +him." + +"He is married," answered Steinmetz. + +The Count Lanovitch was looking at the lamp. He continued to look at it +as if interested in the mechanism of the burner. Then he turned his eyes +to the face of his companion. + +"I wonder, my friend," he said slowly, "how much you know?" + +"Nothing," answered Steinmetz. + +The count looked at him enquiringly, heaved a sharp sigh, and abandoned +the subject. + +"Well," he said, "let us get to business. I have much to ask and to tell +you. I want you to see Catrina and to tell her that I am safe and well, +but she must not attempt to see me or correspond with me for some years +yet. Of course you heard no account of my trial. I was convicted, on the +evidence of paid witnesses, of inciting to rebellion. It was easy +enough, of course. I shall live either in the south or in Austria. It is +better for you to be in ignorance." + +Steinmetz nodded his head curtly. + +"I do not want to know," he said. + +"Will you please ask Catrina to send me money through the usual channel? +No more than she has been sending. It will suffice for my small wants. +Perhaps some day we may meet in Switzerland or in America. Tell the dear +child that. Tell her I pray the good God to allow that meeting. As for +Russia, her day has not come yet. It will not come in our time, my dear +friend. We are only the sowers. So much for the future. Now about the +past. I have not been idle. I know who stole the papers of the Charity +League and sold them. I know who bought them and paid for them." + +Steinmetz closed the door. He came back to the table. He was not smiling +now--quite the contrary. + +"Tell me," he said. "I want to know that badly." + +The Count Lanovitch looked up with a peculiar soft smile--acquired in +prison. There is no mistaking it. + +"Oh, I bear no ill will," he said. + +"I do," answered Steinmetz bluntly. "Who stole the papers from Thors?" + +"Sydney Bamborough." + +"Good God in heaven! Is that true?" + +"Yes, my friend." + +Steinmetz passed his broad hand over his forehead as if dazed. + +"And who sold them?" he asked. + +"His wife." + +Count Lanovitch was looking at the burner of the lamp. There was a +peculiar crushed look about the man, as if he had reached the end of his +life, and was lying like a ship, hopelessly disabled in smooth water, +where nothing could affect him more. + +Steinmetz scratched his forehead with one finger, reflectively. + +"Vassili bought them," he said; "I can guess that." + +"You guess right," returned Lanovitch quietly. + +Steinmetz sat down. He looked round as if wondering whether the room was +very hot. Then with a large handkerchief he wiped his brow. + +"You have surprised me," he admitted. "There are complications. I shall +sit up all night with your news, my dear Stepan. Have you details? +Wonderful--wonderful! Of course there is a God in heaven. How can people +doubt it--eh?" + +"Yes," said Stepan Lanovitch quietly. "There is a God in heaven, and at +present he is angry with Russia. Yes, I have details. Sydney Bamborough +came to stay at Thors. Of course he knew all about the Charity +League--you remember that. It appears that his wife was waiting for him +and the papers at Tver. He took them from my room, but he did not get +them all. Had he got them all you would not be sitting there, my friend. +The general scheme he got--the list of committee names, the local +agents, the foreign agents. But the complete list of the League he +failed to find. He secured the list of subscribers, but learned nothing +from it because the sums were identified by a numeral only, the clue to +the numbers being the complete list, which I burned when I missed the +other papers." + +Steinmetz nodded curtly. + +"That was wise," he said. "You are a clever man, Stepan, but too good +for this world and its rascals. Go on." + +"It would appear that Bamborough rode to Tver with the papers, which he +handed to his wife. She took them to Paris while he intended to come +back to Thors. He had a certain cheap cunning and unbounded +impertinence. But--as you know, perhaps--he disappeared." + +"Yes," said Steinmetz, scratching his forehead with one finger. "Yes--he +disappeared." + +Karl Steinmetz had one great factor of success in this world--an +infinite capacity for holding his cards. + +"One more item," said the count, in his businesslike, calm way. "Vassili +paid that woman seven thousand pounds for the papers." + +"And probably charged his masters ten," added Steinmetz. + +"And now you must go!" + +The count rose and looked at his watch--a cheap American article, with a +loud tick. He held it out with his queer washed-out smile, and Steinmetz +smiled. + +The two embraced again--and there was nothing funny in the action. It is +a singular thing that the sight of two men kissing is conducive either +to laughter or to tears. There is no medium emotion. + +"My dear friend--my very dear friend," said the count, "God be with you +always. We may meet again--or we may not." + +Steinmetz walked down the Nevski Prospekt on the left-hand pavement--no +one walks on the other--and the sleigh followed him. He turned into a +large, brilliantly lighted cafe, and loosened his coat. + +"Give me beer," he said to the waiter; "a very large quantity of it." + +The man smiled obsequiously as he set the foaming mug before him. + +"Is it that his Excellency is cold?" he enquired. + +"No, it isn't," answered Steinmetz. "Quite the contrary." + +He drank the beer, and holding out his hand in the shadow of the table, +he noticed that it trembled only a little. + +"That is better," he murmured. "But I must sit here a while longer. I +suppose I was upset. That is what they call it--upset! I have never been +like that before. Those lamps in the Prospekt! Gott! how they jumped up +and down!" + +He pressed his hand over his eyes as if to shut out the brightness of +the room--the glaring gas and brilliant decorations--the shining bottles +and the many tables which would not keep still. + +"Here," he said to the man, "give me more beer." + +Presently he rose, and, getting rather clumsily into his sleigh, drove +back at the usual breakneck pace to the palace at the upper end of the +English Quay. + +He sent an ambiguous message to Paul, saying that he had returned and +was dressing for dinner. This ceremony he went through slowly, as one +dazed by a great fall or a heavy fatigue. His servant, a quick, silent +man, noticed the strangeness of his manner, and like a wise servant only +betrayed the result of his observation by a readier service, a quicker +hand, a quieter motion. + +As Steinmetz went to the drawing-room he glanced at his watch. It was +twenty minutes past seven. He still had ten minutes to spare before +dinner. + +He opened the drawing-room door. Etta was sitting by the fire, alone. +She glanced back over her shoulder in a quick, hunted way which had only +become apparent to Steinmetz since her arrival at Petersburg. + +"Good-evening," she said. + +"Good-evening, madame," he answered. + +He closed the door carefully behind him. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +AN OFFER OF FRIENDSHIP + +Etta did not move when Steinmetz approached, except, indeed, to push one +foot farther out toward the warmth of the wood fire. She certainly was +very neatly shod. Steinmetz was one of her few failures. She had never +got any nearer to the man. Despite his gray hair and bulky person she +argued that he was still a man, and therefore an easy victim to +flattery--open to the influence of beauty. + +"I wonder why," she said, looking into the fire, "you hate me." + +Steinmetz looked down at her with his grim smile. The mise en scene was +perfect, from the thoughtful droop of the head to the innocent display +of slipper. + +"I wonder why you think that of me," he replied. + +"One cannot help perceiving that which is obvious." + +"While that which is purposely made obvious serves to conceal that which +may exist behind it," replied the stout man. + +Etta paused to reflect over this. Was Steinmetz going to make love to +her? She was not an inexperienced girl, and knew that there was nothing +impossible or even improbable in the thought. She wondered what Karl +Steinmetz must have been like when he was a young man. He had a deft way +even now of planting a double entendre when he took the trouble. How +could she know that his manner was always easiest, his attitude always +politest, toward the women whom he despised. In his way this man was a +philosopher. He had a theory that an exaggerated politeness is an insult +to a woman's intellect. + +"You think I do not care," said the Princess Howard Alexis. + +"You think I do not admire you," replied Steinmetz imperturbably. + +She looked up at him. + +"Do you not give me every reason to think so?" she returned, with a toss +of the head. + +She was one of those women--and there are not a few--who would quarrel +with you if you do not admire them. + +"Not intentionally, princess. I am, as you know, a German of no very +subtle comprehension. My position in your household appears to me to be +a little above the servants, although the prince is kind enough to make +a friend of me and his friends are so good as to do the same. I do not +complain. Far from it. I am well paid. I am interested in my work. I am +more or less my own master. I am very fond of Paul. You--are kind and +forbearing. I do my best--in a clumsy way, no doubt--to spare you my +heavy society. But of course I do not presume to form an opinion upon +your--upon you." + +"But I want you to form an opinion," she said petulantly. + +"Then you must know that I could only form one which would be pleasing +to you." + +"I know nothing of the sort," replied Etta. "Of course I know that all +that you say about position and work is mere irony. Paul thinks there is +no one in the world like you." + +Steinmetz glanced sharply down at her. He had never considered the +possibility that she might love Paul. Was this, after all, jealousy? He +had attributed it to vanity. + +"And I have no doubt he is right," she went on. Suddenly she gave a +little laugh. "Don't you understand?" she said. "I want to be friends." + +She did not look at him, but sat with pouting lips holding out her hand. + +Karl Steinmetz had been up to the elbows, as it were, in the diplomacy +of an unscrupulous, grasping age ever since his college days. He had +been behind the scenes in more than one European crisis, and that which +goes on behind the scenes is not always edifying or conducive to a +squeamishness of touch. He was not the man to be mawkishly afraid of +soiling his fingers. But the small white hand rather disconcerted him. + +He took it, however, in his great, warm, soft grasp, held it for a +moment, and relinquished it. + +"I don't want you to address all your conversation to Maggie, and to +ignore me. Do you think Maggie so very pretty?" + +There was a twist beneath the gray mustache as he answered, "Is that all +the friendship you desire? Does it extend no farther than a passing wish +to be first in petty rivalries of daily existence? I am afraid, my dear +princess, that my friendship is a heavier matter--a clumsier thing than +that." + +"A big thing not easily moved," she suggested, looking up with her +dauntless smile. + +He shrugged his great shoulders. + +"It may be--who knows? I hope it is," he answered. + +"The worst of those big things is that they are sometimes in the way," +said Etta reflectively, without looking at him. + +"And yet the life that is only a conglomeration of trifles is a poor +life to look back upon." + +"Meaning mine?" she asked. + +"Your life has not been trifling," he said gravely. + +She looked up at him, and then for some moments kept silence while she +idly opened and shut her fan. There was in the immediate vicinity of +Karl Steinmetz a sort of atmosphere of sympathy which had the effect of +compelling confidence. Even Etta was affected by it. During the silence +recorded she was quelling a sudden desire to say things to this man +which she had never said to any. She only succeeded in part. + +"Do you ever feel an unaccountable sensation of dread," she asked, with +a weary little laugh; "a sort of foreboding with nothing definite to +forebode?" + +"Unaccountable--no," replied Steinmetz. "But then I am a German--and +stout, which may make a difference. I have no nerves." + +He looked into the fire through his benevolent gold-rimmed spectacles. + +"Is it nerves--or is it Petersburg?" she asked abruptly. "I think it is +Petersburg. I hate Petersburg." + +"Why Petersburg more than Moscow or Nijni or--Tver?" + +She drew in a long, slow breath, looking him up and down the while from +the corners of her eyes. + +"I do not know," she replied collectedly; "I think it is damp. These +houses are built on reclaimed land, I believe. This was all marsh, was +it not?" + +He did not answer her question, and somehow she seemed to expect no +reply. He stood blinking down into the fire while she watched him +furtively from the corners of her eyes, her lips parched and open, her +face quite white. + +A few moments before she had protested that she desired his friendship. +She knew now that she could not brave his enmity. And the one word +"Tver" had done it all! The mere mention of a town, obscure and squalid, +on the upper waters of the mighty Volga in Mid-Russia! + +During those few moments she suddenly came face to face with her +position. What had she to offer this man? She looked him up and +down--stout, placid, and impenetrable. Here was no common adventurer +seeking place--no coxcomb seeking ladies' favors--no pauper to be bought +with gold. She had no means of ascertaining how much he knew, how much +he suspected. She had to deal with a man who held the best cards and +would not play them. She could never hope to find out whether his +knowledge and his suspicions were his alone or had been imparted to +others. In her walk through life she had jostled mostly villains; and a +villain is no very dangerous foe, for he fights on slippery ground. +Except Paul she had never had to do with a man who was quite honest, +upright, and fearless; and she had fallen into the common error of +thinking that all such are necessarily simple, unsuspicious, and a +little stupid. + +She breathed hard, living through years of anxiety in a few moments of +time, and she could only realize that she was helpless, bound hand and +foot in this man's power. + +It was he who spoke first. In the smaller crises of life it is usually +the woman who takes this privilege upon herself; but the larger +situations need a man's steadier grasp. + +"My dear lady," he said, "if you are content to take my friendship as it +is, it is yours. But I warn you it is no showy drawing-room article. +There will be no compliments, no pretty speeches, no little gifts of +flowers, and such trumpery amenities. It will all be very solid and +middle-aged, like myself." + +"You think," returned the lady, "that I am fit for nothing better than +pretty speeches and compliments and floral offerings?" + +She broke off with a forced little laugh, and awaited his verdict with +defiant eyes upraised. He returned the gaze through his placid +spectacles; her beauty, in its setting of brilliant dress and furniture, +soft lights, flowers, and a thousand feminine surroundings, failed to +dazzle him. + +"I do," he said quietly. + +"And yet you offer me your friendship?" + +He bowed in acquiescence. + +"Why?" she asked. + +"For Paul's sake, my dear lady." + +She shrugged her shoulders and turned away from him. + +"Of course," she said, "it is quite easy to be rude. As it happens, it +is precisely for Paul's sake that I took the trouble of speaking to you +on this matter. I do not wish him to be troubled with such small +domestic affairs; and therefore, if we are to live under the same roof, +I shall deem it a favor if you will, at all events, conceal your +disapproval of me." + +He bowed gravely and kept silence. Etta sat with a little patch of color +on either cheek, looking into the fire until the door was opened and +Maggie came in. + +Steinmetz went toward her with his grave smile, while Etta hid a face +which had grown haggard. + +Maggie glanced from one to the other with frank interest. The +relationship between these two had rather puzzled her of late. + +"Well," said Steinmetz, "and what of St. Petersburg?" + +"I am not disappointed," replied Maggie. "It is all I expected and more. +I am not blasee like Etta. Every thing interests me." + +"We were discussing Petersburg when you came in," said Steinmetz, +drawing forward a chair. "The princess does not like it. She complains +of--nerves." + +"Nerves!" exclaimed Maggie, turning to her cousin. "I did not suspect +you of having them." + +Etta smiled, a little wearily. + +"One never knows," she answered, forcing herself to be light, "what one +may come to in old age. I saw a gray hair this morning. I am nearly +thirty-three, you know. When glamour goes, nerves come." + +"Well, I suppose they do--especially in Russia, perhaps. There is a +glamour about Russia, and I mean to cultivate it rather than nerves. +There is a glamour about every thing--the broad streets, the Neva, the +snow, and the cold. Especially the people. It is always especially the +people, is it not?" + +"It is the people, my dear young lady, that lend interest to the world." + +"Paul took me out in a sleigh this morning," went on Maggie, in her +cheerful voice that knew no harm. "I liked every thing--the policemen in +their little boxes at the street corners, the officers in their fur +coats, the cabmen, every-body. There is something so mysterious about +them all. One can easily make up stories about every-body one meets in +Petersburg. It is so easy to think that they are not what they seem. +Paul, Etta, even you, Herr Steinmetz, may not be what you seem." + +"Yes, that is so," answered Steinmetz, with a laugh. + +"You may be a Nihilist," pursued Maggie. "You may have bombs concealed +up your sleeves; you may exchange mysterious passwords with people in +the streets; you may be much less innocent than you appear." + +"All that may be so," he admitted. + +"You may have a revolver in the pocket of your dress-coat," went on +Maggie, pointing to the voluminous garment with her fan. + +His hand went to the pocket in question, and produced exactly what she +had suggested. He held out his hand with a small silver-mounted revolver +lying in the palm of it. + +"Even that," he said, "may be so." + +Maggie looked at it with a sudden curiosity, her bright eyes grave. + +"Loaded?" she asked. + +"Yes." + +"Then I will not examine it. How curious! I wonder how near to the mark +I may have been in other ways." + +"I wonder," said Steinmetz, looking at Etta. "And now tell us something +about the princess. What do you suspect her of?" + +At this moment Paul came into the room, distinguished-looking and grave. + +"Miss Delafield," pursued Steinmetz, turning to the new-comer, "is +telling us her suspicions about ourselves. I am already as good as +condemned to Siberia. She is now about to sit in judgment on the +princess." + +Maggie laughed. + +"Herr Steinmetz has pleaded guilty to the worst accusation," she said. +"On the other counts I leave him to his own conscience." + +"Any thing but that," urged Steinmetz. + +Paul came forward, and Maggie rather obviously avoided looking at him. + +"Tell us of Paul's crimes first," said Etta, rather hurriedly. She +glanced at the clock, whither Karl Steinmetz's eyes had also travelled. + +"Oh, Paul," said Maggie, rather indifferently. Indeed, it seemed as if +her lightness of heart had suddenly failed her. "Well, perhaps he is +deeply involved in schemes for the resurrection of the Polish kingdom, +or something of that sort." + +"That sounds tame," put in Steinmetz. "I think you would construct a +better romance respecting the princess. In books it is always the +beautiful princesses who are most deeply dyed in crime." + +Maggie opened her fan and closed it again. + +"Well," she said, tapping on the arm of her chair with it; "I give Etta +a mysterious past. She is the sort of person who would laugh and dance +at a ball with the knowledge that there was a mine beneath the floor." + +"I do not think I am," said Etta, with a shudder. She rose rather +hurriedly, and crossed the room with a great rustle of silks. + +"Stop her!" she whispered, as she passed Steinmetz. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +A SUSPECTED HOUSE + +The Countess Lanovitch and Catrina were sitting together in the +too-luxurious drawing-room that overlooked the English Quay and the +Neva. The double windows were rigorously closed, while the inner panes +were covered with a thick rime. The sun was just setting over the +marshes that border the upper waters of the Gulf of Finland, and lit up +the snow-clad city with a rosy glow which penetrated to the room where +the two women sat. + +Catrina was restless, moving from chair to chair, from fire-place to +window, with a lack of repose which would certainly have touched the +nerves of a less lethargic person than the countess. + +"My dear child!" that lady was exclaiming with lackadaisical horror, "we +cannot go to Thors yet. The thought is too horrible. You never think of +my health. Besides, the gloom of the everlasting snow is too painful. It +makes me think of your poor mistaken father, who is probably shovelling +it in Siberia. Here, at all events, one can avoid the window--one need +not look at it." + +"The policy of shutting one's eyes is a mistake," said Catrina. + +She had risen, and was standing by the window, her stunted form being +framed, as it were, in a rosy glow of pink. + +The countess heaved a little sigh and gazed idly at the fire. She did +not understand Catrina. She was afraid of her. There was something +rugged and dogged which the girl had inherited from her father--that +Slavonic love of pain for its own sake--which makes Russian patriots and +thinkers strange, incomprehensible beings. + +"I question it, Catrina," said the elder lady; "but perhaps it is a +matter of health. Dr. Stantovitch told me, quite between ourselves, that +if I had given way to my grief at the time of the trial he would not +have held himself responsible for the consequences." + +"Dr. Stantovitch," said Catrina, "is a humbug." + +"My dear child!" exclaimed the countess, "he attends all the noble +ladies of Petersburg." + +"Precisely," answered Catrina. + +She was woman enough to enter into futile arguments with her mother, and +man enough to despise herself for doing it. + +"Why do you want to go back to Thors so soon?" murmured the elder lady, +with a little sigh of despair. She knew she was playing a losing game +very badly. She was mentally shuddering at the recollection of former +sleigh-journeying from Tver to Thors. + +"Because I am sure father would like us to be there this hard winter." + +"But your father is in Siberia," put in the countess, which remark was +ignored. + +"Because if we do not go before the snow begins to melt we shall have to +do the journey in carriages over bad roads, which is sure to knock you +up. Because our place is at Thors, and no one wants us here. I hate +Petersburg. It is no use living here unless one is rich and beautiful +and popular. We are none of those things, so we are better at Thors." + +"But we have many nice friends here, dear. You will see, this afternoon. +I expect quite a reception. By the way, I hope Kupfer has sent the +little cakes. Your father used to be so fond of them. I wonder if we +could send him a box to Siberia. He would enjoy them, poor man! He might +give some to the prison people, and thus obtain a little alleviation. +Yes; the Comte de Chauxville said he would come on my first +reception-day, and, of course, Paul and his wife must return my call. +They will come to-day. I am anxious to see her. They say she is +beautiful and dresses well." + +Catrina's broad white teeth gleamed for a moment in the flickering +firelight, as she clenched them over her lower lip. + +"And therefore Paul's happiness in life is assured," she said, in a hard +voice. + +"Of course. What more could he want?" murmured the countess, in blissful +ignorance of any irony. + +Catrina looked at her mother with a gleam of utter contempt in her eyes. +That is one of the privileges of a great love, whether it bring +happiness or misery--the contempt for all who have never known it. + +While they remained thus the sound of sleigh-bells on the quiet English +Quay made itself heard through the double windows. There was a clang of +many tones, and the horses pulled up with a jerk. The color left +Catrina's face quite suddenly, as if wiped away, leaving her ghastly. +She was going to see Paul and his wife. + +Presently the door opened, and Etta came into the room with the +indomitable assurance which characterized her movements and earned for +her a host of feminine enemies. + +"Mme. la Comtesse," she said, with her most gracious smile, taking the +limp hand offered to her by the Countess Lanovitch. + +Catrina stood in the embrasure of the window, hating her. + +Paul followed on his wife's heels, scarcely concealing his boredom. He +was not a society man. Catrina came forward and exchanged a formal bow +with Etta, who took in her plainness and the faults of her dress at one +contemptuous glance. She smiled with the perfect pity of a good figure +for no figure at all. Paul was shaking hands with the countess. When he +took Catrina's hand her fingers were icy, and twitched nervously within +his grasp. + +The countess was already babbling to Etta in French. The Princess Howard +Alexis always began by informing Paul's friends that she knew no +Russian. For a moment Paul and Catrina were left, as it were, alone. +When the countess was once fairly roused from her chronic lethargy her +voice usually acquired a metallic ring which dominated any other +conversation that might be going on in the room. + +"I wish you happiness," said Catrina, and no one heard her but Paul. She +did not raise her eyes to his, but looked vaguely at his collar. Her +voice was short and rather breathless, as if she had just emerged from +deep water. + +"Thank you," answered Paul simply. + +He turned and somewhat naturally looked at his wife. Catrina's thoughts +followed his. A man is at a disadvantage in the presence of the woman +who loves him. She usually sees through him--a marked difference between +masculine and feminine love. Catrina looked up sharply and caught his +eyes resting on Etta. + +"He does not love her--he does not love her!" was the thought that +instantly leaped into her brain. + +And if she had said it to him he would have contradicted her flatly and +honestly, and in vain. + +"Yes," the countess was saying with lazy volubility; "Paul is one of our +oldest friends. We are neighbors in the country, you know. He has always +been in and out of our house like one of the family. My poor husband was +very fond of him." + +"Is your husband dead, then?" asked Etta in a low voice, with a strange +haste. + +"No; he is only in Siberia. You have perhaps heard of his +misfortune--Count Stepan Lanovitch." + +Etta nodded her head with the deepest sympathy. + +"I feel for you, countess," she said. "And yet you are so brave--and +mademoiselle," she said, turning to Catrina. "I hope we shall see more +of each other in Tver." + +Catrina bowed jerkily and made no reply. Etta glanced at her sharply. +Perhaps she saw more than Catrina knew. + +"I suppose," she said to the countess, with that inclusive manner which +spreads the conversation out, "that Paul and Mlle. de Lanovitch were +playmates?" + +The reply lay with either of the ladies, but Catrina turned away. + +"Yes," answered the countess; "but Catrina is only twenty-four--ten +years younger than Paul." + +"Indeed!" with a faint, cutting surprise. + +Indeed Etta looked younger than Catrina. On a l'age de son coeur, and if +the heart be worn it transmits its weariness to the face, where such +signs are ascribed to years. So the little stab was justified by +Catrina's appearance. + +While the party assembled were thus exchanging social amenities, a past +master in such commerce joined them in the person of Claude de +Chauxville. + +He smiled his mechanical, heartless smile upon them all, but when he +bowed over Etta's hand his face was grave. He expressed no surprise at +seeing Paul and Etta, though his manner betokened that emotion. There +was no sign of this meeting having been a prearranged matter, brought +about by himself through the easy and innocent instrumentality of the +countess. + +"And you are going to Tver, no doubt?" he said almost at once to Etta. + +"Yes," answered that lady, with a momentary hunted look in her eyes. It +is strange how an obscure geographical name may force its way into our +lives, never to be forgotten. Queen Mary of England struck a note of the +human octave when she protested that the word "Calais" was graven on her +heart. It seemed to Etta that "Tver" was written large wheresoever she +turned, for the conscience looks through a glass and sees whatever may +be written thereon overspreading every prospect. + +"The prince," continued De Chauxville, turning to Paul, "is a great +sportsman, I am told--a mighty hunter. I wonder why Englishmen always +want to kill something." + +Paul smiled, without making an immediate answer. He was not the man to +be led into the danger of repartee by such as De Chauxville. + +"We have a few bears left," he said. + +"You are fortunate," protested De Chauxville. "I shot one when I was +younger. I was immensely afraid, and so was the bear. I have a great +desire to try again." + +Etta glanced at Paul, who returned De Chauxville's bland gaze with all +the imperturbability of a prince. + +The countess's cackling voice broke in at this juncture, as perhaps De +Chauxville had intended it to do. + +"Then why not come and shoot ours?" she said. "We have quite a number of +them in the forests at Thors." + +"Ah, Mme. la Comtesse," he answered, with outspread, deprecatory hands, +"but that would be taking too great an advantage of your hospitality and +your well-known kindness." + +He turned to Catrina, who received him with a half-concealed frown. The +countess bridled and looked at her daughter with obvious maternal +meaning, as one who was saying, "There--you bungled your prince, but I +have procured you a baron." + +"The abuse of hospitality is the last refuge of the needy," continued De +Chauxville oracularly. "But my temptation is strong; shall I yield to +it, mademoiselle?" + +Catrina smiled unwillingly. + +"I would rather leave it to your own conscience," she said. "But I fail +to see the danger you anticipate." + +"Then I accept, madame," said De Chauxville, with the engaging +frankness which ever had a false ring in it. + +If the whole affair had been prearranged in Claude de Chauxville's mind, +it certainly succeeded more fully than is usually the case with human +schemes. If, on the other hand, this invitation was the result of +chance, Fortune had favored Claude de Chauxville beyond his deserts. + +The little scene had played itself out before the eyes of Paul, who did +not want it; of Etta, who desired it; and of Catrina, who did not +exactly know what she wanted, with the precision of a stage-play +carefully rehearsed. + +Claude de Chauxville had unscrupulously made use of feminine vanity with +all the skill that was his. A little glance toward Etta, as he accepted +the invitation, conveyed to her the fact that she was the object of his +clever little plot; that it was in order to be near her that he had +forced the Countess Lanovitch to invite him to Thors; and Etta, with all +her shrewdness, was promptly hoodwinked. Vanity is a handicap assigned +to clever women by Fate, who handicaps us all without appeal. De +Chauxville saw by a little flicker of the eyelids that he had not missed +his mark. He had hit Etta where his knowledge of her told him she was +unusually vulnerable. He had made one ally. The countess he looked upon +with a wise contempt. She was easier game than Etta. Catrina he +understood well enough. Her rugged simplicity had betrayed her secret to +him before he had been five minutes in the room. Paul he despised as a +man lacking finesse and esprit--a truly French form of contempt. For +Frenchmen have yet to learn that such qualities have remarkably little +to do with love. + +Claude de Chauxville was one of those men--alas! too many--who owe their +success in life almost entirely to some feminine influence or another. +Whenever he came into direct opposition to men it was his instinct to +retire from the field. Behind Paul's back he despised him; before his +face he cringed. + +"Then, perhaps," he said, when the princess was engaged in the usual +farewells with the countess, and Paul was moving toward the door--"then, +perhaps, prince, we may meet again before the spring--if the countess +intends her invitation to be taken seriously." + +"Yes," answered Paul; "I often shoot at Thors." + +"If you do not happen to come over, perhaps I may be allowed to call and +pay my respects--or is the distance too great?" + +"You can do it in an hour and a half with a quick horse, if the snow is +good," answered Paul. + +"Then I may make it au revoir?" enquired De Chauxville, holding out a +frank hand. + +"Au revoir," said Paul, "if you wish it." + +And he turned to say good-by to Catrina. + +As De Chauxville had arrived later than the other visitors, it was quite +natural that he should remain after they had left, and it may be safely +presumed that he took good care to pin the Countess Lanovitch down to +her rash invitation. + +"Why is that man coming to Tver?" said Paul, rather gruffly, when Etta +and he were settled beneath the furs of the sleigh. "We do not want him +there." + +"I expect," replied Etta rather petulantly, "that we shall be so +horribly dull that even M. de Chauxville will be a welcome alleviation." + +Paul said nothing. He gave a little sign to the driver, and the horses +leaped forward with a musical clash of their silver bells. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +THE SPIDER AND THE FLY + +It is to be feared that there is a lamentable lack of local color in the +present narrative. Having safely arrived at Petersburg, we have nothing +to tell of that romantic city--no hints at deep-laid plots, no prison, +nor tales of jail-birds--tales with salt on them, bien entendu--the +usual grain. We have hardly mentioned the Nevski Prospekt, which street +by ancient right must needs figure in all Russian romance. We have +instead been prating of drawing-rooms and mere interiors of houses, +which to-day are the same all the world over. A Japanese fan is but a +Japanese fan, whether it hang on the wall of a Canadian drawing-room or +the matting of an Indian bungalow. An Afghan carpet is the same on any +floor. It is the foot that treads the carpet which makes one to differ +from another. + +Whether it be in Petersburg or Pekin, it still must be the human being +that lends the interest to the still life around it. A truce, therefore, +to picturesque description--sour grapes to the present pen--of church +and fort and river, with which the living persons of whom we tell have +little or nothing to do. + +Maggie was alone in the great drawing-room of the house at the end of +the English Quay--alone and grave. Some people, be it noted, are gravest +when alone, and they are wise, for the world has too much gravity for us +to go about it with a long face, making matters worse. Let each of us be +the centre of his own gravity. Maggie Delafield had, perhaps, that spark +in the brain for which we have but an ugly word. We call it "pluck." And +by it we are enabled to win a losing game--and, harder still, to lose a +losing game--without much noise or plaint. + +Whatever this girl's joys or sorrows may have been--and pray you, madam, +remember that no man ever knows his neighbor's heart!--she succeeded as +well as any in concealing both. There are some women who tell one just +enough about themselves to prove that they can understand and +sympathize. Maggie was of these; but she told no more. + +She was alone when Paul came into the room. It was a large room, with +more than one fire-place. Maggie was reading, and she did not look +round. Paul stopped--warming himself by the fire nearest to the door. He +was the sort of man to come into a room without any remark. + +Maggie looked up for a moment, glancing at the wood fire. She seemed to +know for certain that it was Paul. + +"Have you been out?" she asked. + +"Yes--calling." + +He came toward her, standing beside her with his hands clasped behind +his back, looking into the fire. + +"Socially," he said, with a quiet humor, "I am not a success." + +Her book dropped upon her knees, her two hands crossed upon its pages. +She stared at the glowing logs as if his thoughts were written there. + +"I do not want to give way," he went on, "to a habit of morbid +introspection, but socially I am a horrid failure." + +There was a little smile on the girl's face, not caused by his grave +humor. It would appear that she was smiling at something beyond +that--something only visible to her own mental vision. + +"Perhaps you do not try," she suggested practically. + +"Oh, yes, I do. I try in several languages. I have no small-talk." + +"You see," she said gravely, "you are a large man." + +"Does that make any difference?" he asked simply. + +She turned and looked at him as he towered by her side--looked at him +with a queer smile. + +"Yes," she answered, "I think so." + +For some moments they remained thus without speaking--in a peaceful +silence. Although the room was very large, it was peaceful. What is it, +by the way, that brings peace to the atmosphere of a room, of a whole +house sometimes? It can only be something in the individuality of some +person in it. We talk glibly of the comfort of being settled--the +peacefulness, the restfulness of it. Some people, it would appear, are +always settled--of settled convictions, settled mind, settled purpose. +Paul Howard Alexis was perhaps such a person. + +At all events, the girl sitting in the low chair by his side seemed to +be under some such influence, seemed to have escaped the unrest which is +said to live in palaces. + +When she spoke it was with a quiet voice, as one having plenty of time +and leisure. + +"Where have you been?" she asked practically. Maggie was always +practical. + +"To the Lanovitches', where we met the Baron de Chauxville." + +"Ah!" + +"Why--ah?" + +"Because I dislike the Baron de Chauxville," answered Maggie in her +decisive way. + +"I am glad of that--because I hate him!" said Paul. "Have you any reason +for your dislike?" + +Miss Delafield had a reason, but it was not one that she could mention +to Paul. So she gracefully skirted the question. + +"He has the same effect upon me as snails," she explained airily. + +Then, as if to salve her conscience, she gave the reason, but disguised, +so that he did not recognize it. + +"I have seen more of M. de Chauxville than you have," she said gravely. +"He is one of those men of whom women do see more. When men are present +he loses confidence, like a cur when a thoroughbred terrier is about. He +dislikes you. I should take care to give M. de Chauxville a wide berth +if I were you, Paul." + +She had risen, after glancing at the clock. She turned down the page of +her book, and looking up suddenly, met his eyes, for a moment only. + +"We are not likely to drop into a close friendship," said Paul. "But--he +is coming to Thors, twenty miles from Osterno." + +There was a momentary look of anxiety in the girl's eyes, which she +turned away to hide. + +"I am sorry for that," she said. "Does Herr Steinmetz know it?" + +"Not yet." + +Maggie paused for a moment. She was tracing with the tip of her finger a +pattern stamped on the binding of the book. It would seem that she had +something more to say. Then suddenly she went away without saying it. + +In the meantime Claude de Chauxville had gently led the Countess +Lanovitch to invite him to stay to dinner. He accepted the invitation +with becoming reluctance, and returned to the Hotel de Berlin, where he +was staying, in order to dress. He was fully alive to the expediency of +striking while the iron is hot--more especially where women are +concerned. Moreover, his knowledge of the countess led him to fear that +she would soon tire of his society. This lady had a lamentable facility +for getting to the bottom of her friends' powers of entertainment within +a few days. It was De Chauxville's intention to make secure his +invitation to Thors, and then to absent himself from the countess. + +At dinner he made himself vastly agreeable, recounting many anecdotes +fresh from Paris, which duly amused the Countess Lanovitch, and somewhat +shocked Catrina, who was not advanced or inclined to advance. + +After dinner the guest asked Mlle. Catrina to play. He opened the grand +piano in the inner drawing-room with such gallantry and effusion that +the sanguine countess, post-prandially somnolescent in her luxurious +chair, began rehearsing different modes of mentioning her son-in-law, +the baron. + +"Yes," she muttered to herself, "and Catrina is plain--terribly plain." + +Thereupon she fell asleep. + +De Chauxville had a good memory, and was, moreover, a good and capable +liar. So Catrina did not find out that he knew nothing whatever of +music. He watched the plain face as the music rose and fell, himself +impervious to its transcendent tones. With practised cunning he waited +until Catrina was almost intoxicated with music--an intoxication to +which all great musicians are liable. + +"Ah!" he said. "I envy you your power. With music like that one can +almost imagine that life is what one would wish it to be." + +She did not answer, but she wandered off into another air--a slumber +song. + +"The Schlummerlied," said De Chauxville softly. "It almost has the power +to send a sorrow to sleep." + +This time she answered him--possibly because he had not looked at her. + +"Such never sleep," she said. + +"Do you know that, too?" he asked, not in a tone that wanted reply. + +She made no answer. + +"I am sorry," he went on. "For me it is different, I am a man. I have +man's work to do. I can occupy myself with ambition. At all events, I +have a man's privilege of nursing revenge." + +He saw her eyes light up, her breast heave with a sudden sigh. Something +like a smile wavered for a moment beneath his waxed mustache. + +Catrina's fingers, supple and strong, struck in great chords the air of +a gloomy march from the half-forgotten muse of some monastic composer. +While she played, Claude de Chauxville proceeded with his delicate touch +to play on the hidden chords of an untamed heart. + +"A man's privilege," he repeated musingly. + +"Need it be such?" she asked. + +For the first time his eyes met hers. + +"Not necessarily," he answered, and her eyes dropped before his narrow +gaze. + +He sat back in his chair, content for the moment with the progress he +had made. He glanced at the countess. He was too experienced a man to be +tricked. The countess was really asleep. Her cap was on one side, her +mouth open. A woman who is pretending to sleep usually does so in +becoming attitudes. + +De Chauxville did not speak again for some minutes. He sat back in his +chair, leaning his forehead on his hand, while he peeped through his +slim fingers. He could almost read the girl's thoughts as she put them +into music. + +"She does not hate him yet," he was reflecting. "But she needs only to +see him with Etta a few times and she will come to it." + +The girl played on, throwing all the pain in her passionate, untamed +heart into the music. She knew nothing of the world; for half of its +temptations, its wiles, its wickednesses were closed to her by the plain +face that God had given her. For beautiful women see the worst side of +human nature--they usually deal with the worst of men. Catrina was an +easy tool in the hands of such as Claude de Chauxville; for he had dealt +with women and that which is evil in women all his life, and the only +mistakes he ever made were those characteristic errors of omission +attaching to a persistent ignorance of the innate good in human nature. +It is this same innate good that upsets the calculations of most +villains. + +Absorbed as she was in her great grief, Catrina was in no mood to seek +for motives--to split a moral straw. She only knew that this man seemed +to understand her as no one had ever understood her. She was content +with the knowledge that he took the trouble to express and to show a +sympathy of which those around her had not suspected her to be in need. + +The moment had been propitious, and Claude de Chauxville, with true +Gallic insight, had seized it. Her heart was sore and lonely--almost +breaking--and she was without the worldly wisdom which tells us that +such hearts must, at all costs, be hidden from the world. She was +without religious teaching--quite without that higher moral teaching +which is independent of creed and conformity, which is only learnt at a +good mother's knee. Catrina had not had a good mother. She had had the +countess--a weak-minded, self-indulgent, French-novel-reading woman. +Heaven protect our children from such mothers! + +In the solitude of her life Catrina Lanovitch had conceived a great +love--a passion such as a few only are capable of attaining, be it for +weal or woe. She had seen this love ignored--walked under foot by its +object with a grave deliberation which took her breath away when she +thought of it. It was all in all to her; to him it was nothing. Her +philosophy was simple. She could not sit still and endure. At this time +it seemed unbearable. She must turn and rend some one. She did not know +whom. But some one must suffer. It was in this that Claude de Chauxville +proposed to assist her. + +"It is preposterous that people should make others suffer and go +unpunished," he said, intent on his noble purpose. + +Catrina's eyelids flickered, but she made no answer. The soreness of her +heart had not taken the form of a definite revenge as yet. Her love for +Paul was still love, but it was perilously near to hatred. She had not +reached the point of wishing definitely that he should suffer, but the +sight of Etta--beautiful, self-confident, carelessly possessive in +respect to Paul--had brought her within measurable distance of it. + +"The arrogance of those who have all that they desire is insupportable," +the Frenchman went on in his favorite, non-committing, epigrammatic way. + +Catrina--a second Eve--glanced at him, and her silence gave him +permission to go on. + +"Some men have a different code of honor for women, who are helpless." + +Catrina knew vaguely that unless a woman is beloved by the object of her +displeasure, she cannot easily make him suffer. + +She clenched her teeth over her lower lip. As she played, a new light +was dawning in her eyes. The music was a marvel, but no one in the room +heard it. + +"I would be pitiless to all such men," said De Chauxville. "They deserve +no pity, for they have shown none. The man who deceives a woman is +worthy of--" + +He never finished the sentence. Her deep, passionate eyes met his. Her +hands came down with one final crash on the chords. She rose and crossed +the room. + +"Mother," she said, "shall I ring for tea?" + +When the countess awoke, De Chauxville was turning over some sheets of +music at the piano. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +A WINTER SCENE + +Between Petersburg and the sea there are several favorite islands more +or less assigned to the foreigners residing in the Russian capital. Here +the English live, and in summer the familiar cries of the tennis-lawn +may be heard, while in winter snow-shoeing, skating, and tobogganing +hold merry sway. + +It was here, namely, on the island of Christeffsky, that a great ice +fete was held on the day preceding the departure of the Howard Alexis +household for Tver. The fete was given by one of the foreign +ambassadors--a gentleman whose wife was accredited to the first place +in Petersburg society. It was absolutely necessary, Steinmetz averred, +for the whole Howard Alexis party to put in an appearance. + +The fete was supposed to begin at four in the afternoon, and by five +o'clock all St. Petersburg--all, c'est a dire, worthy of mention in that +aristocratic city--had arrived. One may be sure Claude de Chauxville +arrived early, in beautiful furs with a pair of silver-plated skates +under his arm. He was an influential member of the Cercle des Patineurs +in Paris. Steinmetz arrived soon after, to look on, as he told his many +friends. He was, he averred, too stout to skate and too heavy for the +little iron sleds on the ice-hills. + +"No, no!" he said, "there is nothing left for me but to watch. I shall +watch De Chauxville," he added, turning to that graceful skater with a +grim smile. De Chauxville nodded and laughed. + +"You have been doing that any time this twenty years, mon ami," he said, +as he stood upright on his skates and described an easy little figure on +the outside edge backward. + +"And have always found you on slippery ground." + +"And never a fall," said De Chauxville over his shoulder, as he shot +away across the brilliantly lighted pond. + +It was quite dark. A young moon was rising over the city, throwing out +in dark relief against the sky a hundred steeples and domes. The long, +thin spire of the Fortress Church--the tomb of the Romanoffs--shot up +into the heavens like a dagger. Near at hand, a thousand electric lights +and colored lanterns, cunningly swung on the branches of the pines, made +a veritable fairyland. The ceaseless song of the skates, on ice as hard +as iron, mingled with the strains of a band playing in a kiosk with open +windows. From the ice-hills came the swishing scream of the iron runners +down the terrific slope. The Russians are a people of great emotions. +There is a candor in their recognition of the needs of the senses which +does not obtain in our self-conscious nature. These strangely +constituted people of the North--a budding nation, a nation which shall +some day overrun the world--are easily intoxicated. And there is a +deliberation about their methods of seeking this enjoyment which appears +at times almost brutal. There is nothing more characteristic than the +ice-hill. + +Imagine a slope as steep as a roof, paved with solid blocks of ice, +which are subsequently frozen together by flooding with water; imagine a +sledge with steel runners polished like a knife; imagine a thousand +lights on either side of this glittering path, and you have some idea of +an ice-hill. It is certainly the strongest form of excitement +imaginable--next, perhaps, to whale-fishing. + +There is no question of breathing, once the sledge has been started by +the attendant. The sensation is somewhat suggestive of a fall from a +balloon, and yet one goes to the top again, as surely as the drunkard +will return to his bottle. Fox-hunting is child's play to it, and yet +grave men have prayed that they might die in pink. + +Steinmetz was standing at the foot of the ice-hill when an arm was +slipped within his. + +"Will you take me down?" asked Maggie Delafield. + +He turned and smiled at her--fresh and blooming in her furs. + +"No, my dear young lady. But thank you for suggesting it." + +"Is it very dangerous?" + +"Very. But I think you ought to try it. It is a revelation. It is an +epoch in your life. When I was a younger man I used to sneak away to an +ice-hill where I was not known, and spend hours of the keenest +enjoyment. Where is Paul?" + +"He has just gone over there with Etta." + +"She refuses to go?" + +"Yes," answered Maggie. + +Steinmetz looked down at his companion with his smile of quiet +resignation. + +"You tell me you are afraid of mice," he said. + +"I hate mice," she replied. "Yes--I suppose I am afraid of them." + +"The princess is not afraid of _rats_--she is afraid of very little, the +princess--and yet she will not go on the ice-hill. What strange +creatures, mademoiselle! Come, let us look for Paul. He is the only man +who may be trusted to take you down." + +They found Paul and Etta together in one of the brilliantly lighted +kiosks where refreshments were being served, all hot and steaming, by +fur-clad servants. It was a singular scene. If a coffee-cup was left for +a few moments on the table by the watchful servitors, the spoon froze to +the saucer. The refreshments--bread and butter, dainty sandwiches of +caviare, of pate de foie gras, of a thousand delicatessen from Berlin +and Petersburg--were kept from freezing on hot-water dishes. The whole +scene was typical of life in the northern capital, where wealth wages a +successful fight against climate. Open fires burned brilliantly in iron +tripods within the doorway of the tent, and at intervals in the gardens. +In a large hall a string band consoled those whose years or lungs would +not permit of the more vigorous out-door entertainments. + +Steinmetz made known to Paul Maggie's desire to risk her life on the +ice-hills, and gallantly proposed to take care of the princess until his +return. + +"Then," said Etta gayly, "you must skate. It is much too cold to stand +about. They are going to dance a cotillon." + +"If it is your command, princess, I obey with alacrity." + +Etta spoke rapidly, looking round her all the while with the bright +enjoyment which overspreads the faces of some women at almost any form +of entertainment, provided there be music, brilliant lights, and a crowd +of people. One cannot help wondering a little what the minds of such +fair ladies must consist of, to be thrown off their balance by such +outward influences. Etta's eyes gleamed with excitement. She was +beautifully dressed in furs, which adornment she was tall and stately +enough to carry to full advantage. She held her graceful head with regal +hauteur, every inch a princess. She was enjoying her keenest pleasure--a +social triumph. No whisper escaped her, no glance, no nudge of admiring +or envious notice. On Steinmetz's arm she passed out of the tent; the +touch of her hand on his sleeve reminded him of a thoroughbred horse +stepping on to turf, so full of life, of electric thrill, of excitement +was it. But then, Karl Steinmetz was a cynic. No one else could have +thought of comparing Etta's self-complaisant humor to that of a horse in +a racing paddock. + +They procured skates and glided off hand in hand, equally proficient, +equally practised, maybe on this same lake; for both had learned to +skate in Russia. + +They talked only of the present, of the brilliancy of the fete, of the +music, of the thousand lights. Etta was quite incapable of thinking or +talking of any other subject at that moment. + +Steinmetz distinguished Claude de Chauxville easily enough, and avoided +him with some success for a short time. But De Chauxville soon caught +sight of them. + +"Here is M. de Chauxville," said Etta, with a pleased ring in her voice. +"Leave me with him. I expect you are tired." + +"I am not tired, but I am obedient," replied Steinmetz, as the Frenchman +came up with his fur cap in his hand, bowing gracefully. Claude de +Chauxville usually overdid things. There is something honest in a clumsy +bow which had no place in his courtly obeisance. + +Although Steinmetz continued to skate in a leisurely way, he also held +to his original intention of looking on. He saw Paul and Maggie come +back to the edge of the lake, accompanied by an English lady of some +importance in Russia, with whom Maggie presently went away to the +concert-room. + +Steinmetz glided up to Paul, who was lighting a cigarette at the edge of +the pond, where an attendant stood by an open wood fire with cigarettes +and hot beverages. + +"Get a pair of skates," said the German. "This ice is +marvellous--colossa-a-a-l." + +He amused himself with describing figures, like a huge grave-minded boy, +until Paul joined him. + +"Where is Etta?" asked the prince at once. + +"Over there with De Chauxville." + +Paul said nothing for a few moments. They skated side by side round the +lake. It was too cold to stand still even for a minute. + +"I told you," remarked Paul at length, "that that fellow is coming to +Thors." + +"I wish he would go to the devil," said Steinmetz. + +"No doubt he will in time," answered Paul carelessly. + +"Yes; but not soon enough. I assure you, Paul, I do not like it. We are +just in that position that the least breath of suspicion will get us +into endless trouble. The authorities know that Stepan Lanovitch has +escaped. At any moment the Charity League scandal may be resuscitated. +We do not want fellows like De Chauxville prowling about. I know the +man. He is a d--d scoundrel who would sell his immortal soul if he could +get a bid for it. What is he coming to Thors for? He is not a sportsman; +why, he would be afraid of a cock pheasant, though he would be plucky +enough among the hens. You don't imagine he is in love with Catrina, do +you?" + +"No," said Paul sharply, "I don't." + +Steinmetz raised his bushy eyebrows. Etta and De Chauxville skated past +them at that moment, laughing gayly. + +"I have been thinking about it," went on Steinmetz, "and I have come to +the conclusion that our friend hates you personally. He has a grudge +against you of some sort. Of course he hates me--cela va sans dire. He +has come to Russia to watch us. That I am convinced of. He has come here +bent on mischief. It may be that he is hard up and is to be bought. He +is always to be bought, ce bon De Chauxville, at a price. We shall see." + +Steinmetz paused and glanced at Paul. He could not tell him more. He +could not tell him that his wife had sold the Charity League papers to +those who wanted them. He could not tell him all that he knew of Etta's +past. None of these things could Karl Steinmetz, in the philosophy that +was his, tell to the person whom they most concerned. And who are we +that we may hold him wrong? The question of telling and withholding is +not to be dismissed in a few words. But it seems very certain that there +is too much telling, too much speaking out, and too little holding in, +in these days of much publicity. There is a school of speakers-out, and +would to Heaven they would learn to hold their tongues. There is a +school for calling a spade by no other name, and they have still to +learn that the world is by no means interested in their clatter of +shovels. + +The Psalmist knew much of which he did not write, and the young men of +the modern school of poesy and fiction know no more, but they lack the +good taste of the singer of old. That is all. + +Karl Steinmetz was a man who formed his opinion on the best +basis--namely, experience, and that had taught him that a bold reticence +does less harm to one's neighbor than a weak volubility. + +Paul was an easy subject for such treatment. His own method inclined to +err on the side of reticence. He gave few confidences and asked none, as +is the habit of Englishmen. + +"Well," he said, "I do not suppose he will stay long at Thors, and I +know that he will not stay at all at Osterno. Besides, what harm can he +actually do to us? He cannot well go about making enquiries. To begin +with, he knows no Russian." + +"I doubt that," put in Steinmetz. + +"And, even if he does, he cannot come poking about in Osterno. Catrina +will give him no information. Maggie hates him. You and I know him. +There is only the countess." + +"Who will tell him all she knows! She would render that service to a +drosky driver." + +Paul shrugged his shoulders. + +There was no mention of Etta. They stood side by side, both thinking of +her, both looking at her, as she skated with De Chauxville. There lay +the danger, and they both knew it. But she was the wife of one of them +and their lips were necessarily sealed. + +"And it will be permitted," Claude de Chauxville happened to be saying +at that moment, "that I call and pay my respects to an exiled princess?" + +"There will be difficulties," answered Etta, in that tone which makes it +necessary to protest that difficulties are nothing under some +circumstances--the which De Chauxville duly protested with much fervor. + +"You think that twenty miles of snow would deter me," he said. + +"Well, they might." + +"They might if--well--" + +He left the sentence unfinished--the last resource of the sneak and the +coward who wishes to reserve to himself the letter of the denial in the +spirit of the meanest lie. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +HOME + +A tearing, howling wind from the north--from the boundless snow-clad +plains of Russia that lie between the Neva and the Yellow Sea; a gray +sky washed over as with a huge brush dipped in dirty whitening; and the +plains of Tver a spotless, dazzling level of snow. + +The snow was falling softly and steadily, falling, as it never falls in +England, in little more than fine powder, with a temperature forty +degrees below freezing-point. A drift--constant, restless, never +altering--sped over the level plain like the dust on a high-road before +a steady wind. This white scud--a flying scud of frozen water--was +singularly like the scud that is blown from the crest of the waves by a +cyclone in the China Seas. Any object that broke the wind--a stunted +pine, a broken tree-trunk, a Government road-post--had at its leeward +side a high, narrow snow-drift tailing off to the dead level of the +plain. Where the wind dropped the snow rose at once. But these objects +were few and far between. The deadly monotony of the scene--the +trackless level, the preposterous dimensions of the plain, the sense of +distance that is conveyed only by the steppe and the great desert of +Gobi when the snow lies on it--all these tell the same grim truth to all +who look on them: the old truth that man is but a small thing and his +life but as the flower of the grass. + +Across the plain of Tver, before the north wind, a single sleigh was +tearing as fast as horse could lay hoof to ground--a sleigh driven by +Paul Howard Alexis, and the track of it was as a line drawn from point +to point across a map. + +A striking feature of the winter of Northern Russia is the glorious +uncertainty of its snowfalls. At Tver the weather-wise had said: + +"The snow has not all fallen yet. More is coming. It is yellow in the +sky, although March is nearly gone." + +The landlord of the hotel (a good enough resting-place facing the broad +Volga) had urged upon M. le Prince the advisability of waiting, as is +the way of landlords all the world over. But Etta had shown a strange +restlessness, a petulant desire to hurry forward at all risks. She hated +Tver; the hotel was uncomfortable, there was an unhealthy smell about +the place. + +Paul acceded readily enough to her wishes. He rather liked Tver. In a +way he was proud of this busy town--a centre of Russian civilization. He +would have liked Etta to be favorably impressed with it, as any +prejudice would naturally reflect upon Osterno, 140 miles across the +steppe. But with a characteristic silent patience he made the necessary +preparations for an immediate start. + +The night express from St. Petersburg had deposited them on the platform +in the early morning. Steinmetz had preceded them. Closed sleighs from +Osterno were awaiting them. A luxurious breakfast was prepared at the +hotel. Relays of horses were posted along the road. The journey to +Osterno had been carefully planned and arranged by Steinmetz--a king +among organizers. The sleigh drive across the steppe was to be +accomplished in ten hours. + +The snow had begun to fall as they clattered across the floating bridge +of Tver. It had fallen ever since, and the afternoon lowered gloomily. +In America such visitations are called "blizzards"; here in Russia it is +merely "the snow." The freezing wind is taken as a matter of course. + +At a distance of one hundred miles from Tver, the driver of the sleigh +containing Etta, Maggie, and Paul had suddenly rolled off his perch. His +hands were frostbitten; a piteous blue face peered out at his master +through ice-laden eyebrows, mustache, and beard. In a moment Maggie was +out in the snow beside the two men, while Etta hastily closed the door. + +"He is all right," said Paul; "it is only the cold. Pour some brandy +into his mouth while I hold the ice aside. _Don't_ take off your gloves. +The flask will stick to your fingers." + +Maggie obeyed with her usual breezy readiness, turning to nod +reassurance to Etta, who, truth to tell, had pulled up the rime-covered +windows, shutting out the whole scene. + +"He must come inside," said Maggie. "We are nice and warm with all the +hot-water cans." + +Paul looked rather dubiously toward the sleigh. + +"You can carry him, I suppose?" said the girl cheerfully. "He is not +very big--he is all fur coat." + +Etta looked rather disgusted, but made no objection, while Paul lifted +the frozen man into the seat he had just vacated. + +"When you are cold I will drive," cried Maggie, as Paul shut the door. +"I should love it." + +Thus it came about that a single sleigh was speeding across the plain of +Tver. + +Paul, with the composure that comes of a large experience, gathered the +reins in his two hands, driving with both and with extended arms, after +the manner of Russian yemschiks. For a man must accommodate himself to +circumstance, and fingerless gloves are not conducive to a finished +style of handling the ribbons. + +This driver knew that the next station was twenty miles off; that at any +moment the horses might break down or plunge into a drift. He knew that +in the event of such emergencies it would be singularly easy for four +people to die of cold within a few miles of help. But he had faced such +possibilities a hundred times before in this vast country, where the +standard price of a human life is no great sum. He was not, therefore, +dismayed, but rather took delight in battling with the elements, as all +strong men should, and most of them, thank Heaven, do. + +Moreover he battled successfully, and before the moon was well up drew +rein outside the village of Osterno, to accede at last to the +oft-repeated prayer of the driver that he might return to his task. + +"It is not meet," the man had gruffly said, whenever a short halt was +made to change horses, "that a great prince should drive a yemschik." + +"It is meet," answered Paul simply, "for one man to help another." + +Then this man of deeds and not of words clambered into the sleigh and +drew up the windows, hiding his head as he drove through his own +village, where every man was dependent for life and being on his +charity. + +They were silent, for the ladies were tired and cold. + +"We shall soon be there," said Paul reassuringly. But he did not lower +the windows and look out, as any man might have wished to do on +returning to the place of his birth. + +Maggie sat back, wrapped in her furs. She was meditating over the events +of the day, and more particularly over a certain skill, a quickness of +touch, a deft handling of stricken men which she had noted far out on +the snowy steppe a few hours earlier. Paul was a different man when he +had to deal with pain and sickness; he was quicker, brighter, full of +confidence in himself. For the great sympathy was his--that love of the +neighbor which is thrown like a mantle over the shoulders of some men, +making them different from their fellows, securing to them that love of +great and small which, perchance, follows some when they are dead to +that place where a human testimony may not be all in vain. + +At the castle all was in readiness for the prince and princess, their +departure from Tver having been telegraphed. On the threshold of the +great house, before she had entered the magnificent hall, Etta's eyes +brightened, her fatigue vanished. She played her part before the crowd +of bowing servants with that forgetfulness of mere bodily fatigue which +is expected of princesses and other great ladies. She swept up the broad +staircase, leaning on Paul's arm, with a carriage, a presence, a +dazzling wealth of beauty, which did not fail to impress the onlookers. +Whatever Etta may have failed to bring to Paul Howard Alexis as a wife, +she made him a matchless princess. + +He led her straight through the drawing-room to the suite of rooms which +were hers. These consisted of an ante-room, a small drawing-room, and +her private apartments beyond. + +Paul stopped in the drawing-room, looking round with a simple +satisfaction in all that had been done by his orders for Etta's comfort. + +"These," he said, "are your rooms." + +He was no adept at turning a neat phrase--at reeling off a pretty +honeymoon welcome. Perhaps he expected her to express delight, to come +to him, possibly, and kiss him, as some women would have done. + +She looked round critically. + +"Yes," she said, "they are very nice." + +She crossed the room and drew aside the curtain that covered the +double-latticed windows. The room was so warm that there was no rime on +the panes. She gave a little shudder, and he went to her side, putting +his strong, quiet arm around her. + +Below them, stretching away beneath the brilliant moonlight, lay the +country that was his inheritance, an estate as large as a large English +county. Immediately beneath them, at the foot of the great rock upon +which the castle was built, nestled the village of Osterno--straggling, +squalid. + +"Oh!" she said dully, "this is Siberia; this is terrible!" + +It had never presented itself to him in that light, the wonderful +stretch of country over which they were looking. + +"It is not so bad," he said, "in the daylight." + +And that was all; for he had no persuasive tongue. + +"That is the village," he went on, after a little pause. "Those are the +people who look to us to help them in their fight against terrible odds. +I hoped--that you would be interested in them." + +She looked down curiously at the little wooden huts, half-buried in the +snow; the smoking chimneys; the twinkling, curtainless windows. + +"What do you expect me to do?" she asked in a queer voice. + +He looked at her in a sort of wonderment. Perhaps it seemed to him that +a woman should have no need to ask such a question. + +"It is a long story," he said; "I will tell you about it another time. +You are tired now, after your journey." + +His arm slipped from her waist. They stood side by side. And both were +conscious of a feeling of difference. They were not the same as they had +been in London. The atmosphere of Russia seemed to have had some subtle +effect upon them. + +Etta turned and sat slowly down on a low chair before the fire. She had +thrown her furs aside, and they lay in a luxurious heap on the floor. +The maids, hearing that the prince and princess were together, waited +silently in the next room behind the closed door. + +"I think I had better hear it now," said Etta. + +"But you are tired," protested her husband. "You had better rest until +dinner-time." + +"No; I am not tired." + +He came toward her and stood with one elbow on the mantel-piece, looking +down at her--a quiet, strong man, who had already forgotten his feat of +endurance of a few hours earlier. + +"These people," he said, "would die of starvation and cold and sickness +if we did not help them. It is simply impossible for them in the few +months that they can work the land to cultivate it so as to yield any +more than their taxes. They are overtaxed, and no one cares. The army +must be kept up and a huge Civil Service, and no one cares what happens +to the peasants. Some day the peasants _must_ turn, but not yet. It is a +question for all Russian land-owners to face, and nobody faces it. If +any one tries to improve the condition of his peasants--they were +happier a thousand times as serfs--the bureaucrats of Petersburg mark +him down and he is forced to leave the country. The whole fabric of this +Government is rotten, but every-one, except the peasants, would suffer +by its fall, and therefore it stands." + +Etta was staring into the fire. It was impossible to say whether she +heard with comprehension or not. Paul went on: + +"There is nothing left, therefore, but to go and do good by stealth. I +studied medicine with that view. Steinmetz has scraped and economized +the working of the estate for the same purpose. The Government will not +allow us to have a doctor; they prevent us from organizing relief and +education on anything like an adequate scale. They do it all by +underhand means. They have not the pluck to oppose us openly! For years +we have been doing what we can. We have almost eradicated cholera. They +do not die of starvation now. And they are learning--very slowly, but +still they are learning. We--I--thought you might be interested in your +people; you might want to help." + +She gave a short little nod. There was a suggestion of suspense in her +whole being and attitude, as if she were waiting to hear something which +she knew could not be avoided. + +"A few years ago," he went on, "a gigantic scheme was set on foot. I +told you a little about it--the Charity League." + +Her lips moved, but no sound came from them, so she nodded a second +time. A tiny carriage-clock on the mantel-piece struck seven, and she +looked up in a startled way, as if the sound had frightened her. The +castle was quite still. Silence seemed to brood over the old walls. + +"That fell through," he went on, "as I told you. It was betrayed. Stepan +Lanovitch was banished. He has escaped, however; Steinmetz has seen him. +He succeeded in destroying some of the papers before the place was +searched after the robbery--one paper in particular. If he had not +destroyed that, I should have been banished. I was one of the leaders of +the Charity League. Steinmetz and I got the thing up. It would have been +for the happiness of millions of peasants if it had not been betrayed. +In time--we shall find out who did it." + +He paused. He did not say what he would do when he had found out. + +Etta was staring into the fire. Her lips were dry. She hardly seemed to +be breathing. + +"It is possible," he went on in his strong, quiet, inexorable voice, +"that Stepan Lanovitch knows now." + +Etta did not move. She was staring into the fire--staring--staring. + +Then she slowly fainted, rolling from the low chair to the fur +hearth-rug. + +Paul picked her up like a child and carried her to the bedroom, where +the maids were waiting to dress her. + +"Here," he said, "your mistress has fainted from the fatigue of the +journey." + +And, with his practised medical knowledge, he himself tended her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +OSTERNO + +"Always gay; always gay!" laughed Steinmetz, rubbing his broad hands +together and looking down into the face of Maggie, who was busy at the +breakfast-table. + +"Yes," answered the girl, glancing toward Paul, leaning against the +window reading his letters. "Yes, always gay. Why not?" + +Karl Steinmetz saw the glance. It was one of the little daily incidents +that one sees and half forgets. He only half forgot it. + +"Why not, indeed?" he answered. "And you will be glad to hear that +Ivanovitch is as ready as yourself this morning to treat the matter as a +joke. He is none the worse for his freezing, and all the better for his +experience. You have added another friend, my dear young lady, to a list +which is, doubtless, a very long one." + +"He is a nice man," answered Maggie. "How is it," she asked, after a +little pause, "that there are more men in the lower classes whom one can +call nice than among their betters?" + +Paul paused between two letters, hearing the question. He looked up as +if interested in the answer, but did not join in the conversation. + +"Because dealing with animals and with nature is more conducive to +niceness than too much trafficking with human beings," replied Steinmetz +promptly. + +"I suppose that is it," said Maggie, lifting the tea-pot lid and looking +in. "At all events, it is the sort of answer one might expect from you. +You are always hard on human nature." + +"I take it as I find it," replied Steinmetz, with a laugh, "but I do not +worry about it like some people. Now, Paul would like to alter the +course of the world." + +As he spoke he half turned toward Paul, as if suggesting that he should +give an opinion, and this little action had the effect of putting a stop +to the conversation. Maggie had plenty to say to Steinmetz, but toward +Paul her mental attitude was different. She was probably unaware of this +little fact. + +"There," she said, after a pause, "I have obeyed Etta's instructions. +She does not want us to begin, I suppose?" + +"No," replied Paul. "She will be down in a minute." + +"I hope the princess is not overtired," said Steinmetz, with a certain +formal politeness which seemed to accompany any mention of Etta's name. + +"Not at all, thank you," replied Etta herself, coming into the room at +that moment. She looked fresh and self-confident. "On the contrary, I am +full of energy and eagerness to explore the castle. One naturally takes +an interest in one's baronial halls." + +With this she walked slowly across to the window. She stood there +looking out, and every one in the room was watching. On looking for the +first time on the same view, a few moments earlier, Maggie had uttered a +little cry of surprise, and had then remained silent. Etta looked out of +the window and said nothing. It was a most singular out-look--weird, +uncouth, prehistoric, as some parts of the earth still are. The castle +was built on the edge of a perpendicular cliff. On this side it was +impregnable. Any object dropped from the breakfast-room window would +fall a clear two hundred feet to the brawling Oster River. The rock was +black, and shining like the topmost crags of an Alpine mountain where +snow and ice have polished the bare stone. Beyond and across the river +lay the boundless steppe--a sheet of virgin snow. + +Etta stood looking over this to the far horizon, where the white snow +and the gray sky softly merged into one. Her first remark was +characteristic, as first and last remarks usually are. + +"And as far as you can see is yours?" she asked. + +"Yes," answered Paul simply, with that calm which only comes with +hereditary possession. + +The observation attracted Steinmetz's attention. He went to another +window, and looked across the waste critically. + +"Four times as far as we can see is his," he said. + +Etta looked out slowly and comprehensively, absorbing it all like a +long, sweet drink. There was no hereditary calmness in her sense of +possession. + +"And where is Thors?" she asked. + +Paul stretched out his arm, pointing with a lean, steady finger: + +"It lies out there," he answered. + +Another of the little incidents that are only half forgotten. Some of +the persons assembled in that room remembered the pointing finger long +afterward. + +"It makes one feel very small," said Etta, turning to the +breakfast-table--"at no time a pleasant sensation. Do you know," she +said, after a little pause, "I think it probable that I shall become +very fond of Osterno, but I wish it was nearer to civilization." + +Paul looked pleased. Steinmetz had a queer expression on his face. +Maggie murmured something about one's surroundings making but little +difference to one's happiness, and the subject was wisely shelved. + +After breakfast Steinmetz withdrew. + +"Now," said Paul, "shall I show you the old place, you and Maggie?" + +Etta signified her readiness, but Maggie said that she had letters to +write, that Etta could show her the castle another time, when the men +were out shooting, perhaps. + +"But," said Etta, "I shall do it horribly badly. They are not my +ancestors, you know. I shall attach the stories to the wrong people, and +locate the ghost in the wrong room. You will be wise to take Paul's +guidance." + +"No, thank you," replied Maggie, quite firmly and frankly. "I feel +inclined to write; and the feeling is rare, so I must take advantage of +it." + +The girl looked at her cousin with something in her honest blue eyes +that almost amounted to wonder. Etta was always surprising her. There +was a whole gamut of feeling, an octave of callow, half-formed girlish +instincts, of which Etta seemed to be deprived. If she had ever had +them, no trace was left of their whilom presence. At first Maggie had +flatly refused to come to Russia. When Paul pressed her to do so, she +accepted with a sort of wonder. There was something which she did not +understand. + +The same instinct made her refuse now to accompany Paul and Etta over +their new home. Again Etta pressed her, showing her lack of some feeling +which Maggie indefinitely knew she ought to have had. This time Paul +made no sign. He added no word to Etta's persuasions, but stood gravely +looking at his wife. + +When the door had closed behind them, Maggie stood for some minutes by +the window looking out over the snow-clad plain, the rugged, broken +rocks beneath her. + +Then she turned to the writing-table. She resolutely took pen and paper, +but the least thing seemed to distract her attention--the coronet on the +note-paper cost her five minutes of far-off reflection. She took up the +pen again, and wrote "Dear Mother." + +The room grew darker. Maggie looked up. The snow had begun again. It was +driving past the window with a silent, purposeful monotony. The girl +drew the writing-case toward her. She examined the pen critically and +dipped it into the ink. But she added nothing to the two words already +written. + +The castle of Osterno is almost unique in the particular that one roof +covers the ancient and the modern buildings. The vast reception-rooms, +worthy of the name of state-rooms, adjoin the small stone-built +apartments of the fortress which Paul's ancestors held against the +Tartars. This grimmer side of the building Paul reserved to the last for +reasons of his own, and Etta's manifest delight in the grandeur of the +more modern apartments fully rewarded him. Here, again, that side of her +character manifested itself which has already been shown. She was +dazzled and exhilarated by the splendor of it all, and the immediate +effect was a feeling of affection toward the man to whom this belonged; +who was in act, if not in word, laying it at her feet. + +When they passed from the lofty rooms to the dimmer passages of the old +castle Etta's spirits visibly dropped, her interest slackened. He told +her of tragedies enacted in by-gone times--such ancient tales of violent +death and broken hearts as attach themselves to gray stone walls and +dungeon keeps. She only half listened, for her mind was busy with the +splendors they had left behind, with the purposes to which such +splendors could be turned. And the sum total of her thoughts was +gratified vanity. + +Her bright presence awakened the gloom of ages within the dimly lit +historic rooms. Her laugh sounded strangely light and frivolous and +shallow in the silence of the ages which had brooded within these walls +since the days of Tamerlane. It was perhaps the greatest tragedy of the +Alexis family, this beautiful tragedy that walked by the side of Paul. + +"I am glad your grandfather brought French architects here and built the +modern side," she said. "These rooms are, of course, very interesting, +but gloomy--horribly gloomy, Paul. There is a smell of ghosts and +dulness." + +"All the same, I like these rooms," answered Paul. "Steinmetz and I used +to live entirely on this side of the house. This is the smoking-room. We +shot those bears, and all the deer. That is a wolf's head. He killed a +keeper before I finished him off." + +Etta looked at her husband with a curious little smile. She sometimes +felt proud of him, despite the ever present knowledge that, +intellectually speaking, she was his superior. There was something +strong and simple and manly in a sort of mediaeval way that pleased her +in this big husband of hers. + +"And how did you finish him off?" she asked. + +"I choked him. That bear knocked me down, but Steinmetz shot him. We +were four days out in the open after that elk. This is a lynx--a queer +face--rather like De Chauxville; the dogs killed him." + +"But why do you not paper the room," asked Etta, with a shiver, "instead +of this gloomy panelling? It is so mysterious and creepy. Quite +suggestive of secret passages." + +"There are no secret passages," answered Paul. "But there is a room +behind here. This is the door. I will show it to you presently. I have +things in there I want to show you. I keep all my medicines and +appliances in there. It is our secret surgery and office. In that room +the Charity League was organized." + +Etta turned away suddenly and went to the narrow window, where she sat +on a low window-seat, looking down into the snow-clad depths. + +"I did not know you were a doctor," she said. + +"I doctor the peasants," replied Paul, "in a rough-and-ready way. I took +my degree on purpose. But, of course, they do not know that it is I; +they think I am a doctor from Moscow. I put on an old coat, and wear a +scarf, so that they cannot see my face. I only go to them at night. It +would never do for the Government to know that we attempt to do good to +the peasants. We have to keep it a secret even from the people +themselves. And they hate us. They groan and hoot when we drive through +the village. But they never attempt to do us any harm; they are too much +afraid of us." + +When Etta rose and came toward him her face was colorless. + +"Let me see this room," she said. + +He opened the door and followed her into the apartment, which has +already been described. Here he told further somewhat bald details of +the work he had attempted to do. It is to be feared that he made neither +an interesting nor a romantic story of it. There were too many +details--too much statistic, and no thrilling realism whatever. The +experiences of a youthful curate in Bethnal Green would have made high +tragedy beside the tale that this man told his wife of the land upon +which God has assuredly laid His curse--Aceldama, the field of blood. + +Etta listened, and despite herself she became interested. She was +sitting in a chair usually occupied by Steinmetz. There was a faint +aroma of tobacco-smoke. The atmosphere of the room was manly and +energetic. + +Paul showed her his simple stores of medicine--the old coat saturated +with disinfectants which had become the recognized outward sign of the +Moscow doctor. + +"And do other people, other noblemen, try to do this sort of thing too?" +asked Etta at length. + +"Catrina Lanovitch does," replied Paul. + +"What? The girl with the hair?" + +"Yes," answered Paul. He had never noticed Catrina's hair. Etta's +appraising eye had seen more in one second than Paul had perceived in +twenty years. + +"Yes," he answered. "But, of course, she is handicapped." + +"By her appearance?" + +"No; by her circumstances. Her name is sufficient to handicap her every +moment in this country. But she does a great deal. She--she found me +out, confound her!" + +Etta had risen; she was looking curiously at the cupboard where Paul's +infected clothes were hanging. He had forbidden her to go near it. She +turned and looked at him. + +"Found you out! How?" she asked, with a queer smile. + +"Saw through my disguise." + +"Yes--she would do that!" said Etta aloud to herself. + +"What is this door?" she asked, after a pause. + +"It leads to an inner room," replied Paul, "where Steinmetz usually +works." + +He passed in front of her and opened the door. As he was doing so Etta +went on in the train of her thoughts: + +"So Catrina knows?" + +"Yes." + +"And no one else?" + +Paul made no answer; for he had passed on into the smaller room, where +Steinmetz was seated at a writing-table. + +"Except, of course, Herr Steinmetz?" Etta went on interrogatively. + +"Madame," said the German, looking up with his pleasant smile, "I know +_every thing_." + +And he went on writing. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +BLOODHOUNDS + +The table d'hote of the Hotel de Moscou at Tver had just begun. The soup +had been removed; the diners were engaged in igniting their first +cigarette at the candles placed between each pair of them for that +purpose. By nature the modern Russian is a dignified and somewhat +reserved gentleman. By circumstance he has been schooled into a state of +guarded unsociability. If there is a seat at a public table conveniently +removed from those occupied by earlier arrivals the new-comer invariably +takes it. In Russia one converses--as in Scotland one jokes--with +difficulty. + +A Russian table d'hote is therefore any thing but hilarious in its +tendency. A certain number of grave-faced gentlemen and a few +broad-jowled ladies are visibly constrained by the force of circumstance +to dine at the same table and hour, et voila tout. There is no pretence +that any more sociable and neighborly motive has brought them together. +Indeed, they each suspect the other of being a German, or a Nihilist, +or, worse still, a Government servant. They therefore sit as far apart +as possible, and smoke cigarettes between and during the courses with +that self-centred absorption which would be rude, if it were not +entirely satisfactory, to the average Briton. The ladies, of course, +have the same easy method of showing a desire for silence and reflection +in a country where nurses carrying infants usually smoke in the streets, +and where a dainty confectioner's assistant places her cigarette between +her lips in order to leave her hands free for the service of her +customers. + +The table d'hote of the Hotel de Moscou at Tver was no exception to the +general rule. In Russia, by the way, there are no exceptions to general +rules. The personal habits of the native of Cronstadt differ in no way +from those of the Czar's subject living in Petropavlovsk, eight thousand +miles away. + +Around the long table of the host were seated, at respectable intervals, +a dozen or more gentlemen, who gazed stolidly at each other from time to +time, while the host himself smiled broadly upon them all from that end +of the room where the lift and the smell of cooking exercise their +calling--the one to spoil the appetite, the other to pander to it when +spoilt. + +Of these dozen gentlemen we have only to deal with one--a man of broad, +high forehead, of colorless eyes, of a mask-like face, who consumed what +was put before him with as little noise as possible. Known in Paris as +"Ce bon Vassili," this traveller. But in Paris one does not always use +the word bon in its English sense of "good." + +M. Vassili was evidently desirous of attracting as little attention as +circumstances would allow. He was obviously doing his best to look like +one who travelled in the interest of braid or buttons. Moreover, when +Claude de Chauxville entered the table d'hote room, he concealed +whatever surprise he may have felt behind a cloud of cigarette smoke. +Through the same blue haze he met the Frenchman's eye, a moment later, +without the faintest twinkle of recognition. + +These two worthies went through the weird courses provided by a cook +professing a knowledge of French _cuisine_ without taking any +compromising notice of each other. When the meal was over Vassili +inscribed the number of his bedroom in large figures on the label of his +bottle of St. Emilion--after the manner of wise commercial-travellers in +continental hotels. He subsequently turned the bottle round so that +Claude de Chauxville could scarcely fail to read the number, and with a +vague and general bow he left the room. + +In his apartment the genial Vassili threw more wood into the stove, drew +forward the two regulation arm-chairs, and lighted all the candles +provided. He then rang the bell and ordered liqueurs. There was +evidently something in the nature of an entertainment about to take +place in apartment No. 44 of the Hotel de Moscou. + +Before long a discreet knock announced the arrival of the expected +visitor. + +"Entrez!" cried Vassili; and De Chauxville stood before him, with a +smile which in French is called crane. + +"A pleasure," said Vassili, behind his wooden face, "that I did not +anticipate in Tver." + +"And consequently one that carries its own mitigation. An unanticipated +pleasure, mon ami, is always inopportune. I make no doubt that you were +sorry to see me." + +"On the contrary. Will you sit?" + +"I can hardly believe," went on De Chauxville, taking the proffered +chair, "that my appearance was opportune--on the principle, ha! ha! that +a flower growing out of place is a weed. Gentlemen of the--eh--Home +Office prefer, I know, to travel quietly!" He spread out his expressive +hands as if smoothing the path of M. Vassili through this stony world. +"Incognito," he added guilelessly. + +"One does not publish one's name from the housetops," replied the +Russian, with a glimmer of pride in his eyes, "especially if it happen +to be not quite obscure; but between friends, my dear baron--between +friends." + +"Yes. Then what are you doing in Tver?" enquired De Chauxville, with +engaging frankness. + +"Ah, that is a long story. But I will tell you--never fear--I will tell +you on the usual terms." + +"Viz?" enquired the Frenchman, lighting a cigarette. + +Vassili accepted the match with a bow, and did likewise. He blew a +guileless cloud of smoke toward the dingy ceiling. + +"Exchange, my dear baron, exchange." + +"Oh, certainly," replied De Chauxville, who knew that Vassili was in all +probability fully informed as to his movements past and prospective. "I +am going to visit some old friends in this Government--the Lanovitches, +at Thors." + +"Ah!" + +"You know them?" + +Vassili raised his shoulders and made a little gesture with his +cigarette, as much as to say, "Why ask?" + +De Chauxville looked at his companion keenly. He was wondering whether +this man knew that he--Claude de Chauxville--loved Etta Howard Alexis, +and consequently hated her husband. He was wondering how much or how +little this impenetrable individual knew and suspected. + +"I have always said," observed Vassili suddenly, "that for unmitigated +impertinence give me a diplomatist." + +"Ah! And what would you desire that I should, for the same commodity, +give you now?" + +"A woman." + +There was a short silence in the room while these two birds of a feather +reflected. + +Suddenly Vassili tapped himself on the chest with his forefinger. + +"It was I," he said, "who crushed that very dangerous movement--the +Charity League." + +"I know it." + +"A movement, my dear baron, to educate the moujik, if you please. To +feed him and clothe him, and teach him--to be discontented with his lot. +To raise him up and make a man of him. Pah! He is a beast. Let him be +treated as such. Let him work. If he will not work, let him starve and +die." + +"The man who cannot contribute toward the support of those above him in +life is superfluous," said De Chauxville glibly. + +"Precisely. Now, my dear baron, listen to me!" The genial Vassili leaned +forward and tapped with one finger on the knee of De Chauxville, as if +knocking at the door of his attention. + +"I am all ears, mon bon monsieur," replied the Frenchman, rather coldly. +He had just been reflecting that, after all, he did not want any favor +from Vassili for the moment, and the manner of the latter was verging on +the familiar. + +"The woman--who--sold--me--the Charity League papers dined at my house +in Paris--a fortnight ago," said Vassili, with a staccato tap on his +companion's knee by way of emphasis to each word. + +"Then, my friend, I cannot--congratulate--you--on the society--in--which +you move," replied De Chauxville, mimicking his manner. + +"Bah! She was a princess!" + +"A princess?" + +"Yes, of your acquaintance, M. le Baron! And she came to my house with +her--eh--husband--the Prince Paul Howard Alexis." + +This was news indeed. De Chauxville leaned back and passed his slim +white hand across his brow with a slow pressure, as if wiping some +writing from a slate--as if his forehead bore the writing of his +thoughts and he was wiping it away. And the thoughts he thus +concealed--who can count them? For thoughts are the quickest and the +longest and the saddest things of this life. The first thought was that +if he had known this three months earlier he could have made Etta marry +him. And that thought had a thousand branches. With Etta for his wife he +might have been a different man. One can never tell what the effect of +an acquired desire may be. One can only judge by analogy, and it would +seem that it is a frustrated desire that makes the majority of villains. + +But the news coming, thus too late, only served an evil purpose. For in +that flash of thought Claude de Chauxville saw Paul's secrets given to +him; Paul's wealth meted out to him; Paul in exile; Paul dead in +Siberia, where death comes easily; Paul's widow Claude de Chauxville's +wife. He wiped all the thoughts away, and showed to Vassili a face that +was as composed and impertinent as usual. + +"You said 'her--eh--husband,'" he observed. "Why? Why did you add that +little 'eh,' my friend?" + +Vassili rose and walked to the door that led through into his bedroom +from the salon in which they were sitting. It was possible to enter the +bedroom from another door and overhear any conversation that might be +passing in the sitting-room. The investigation was apparently +satisfactory, for the Russian came back. But he did not sit down. +Instead, he stood leaning against the tall china stove. + +"Needless to tell you," he observed, "the antecedents of the--princess." + +"Quite needless." + +"Married seven years ago to Charles Sydney Bamborough," promptly giving +the unnecessary information which was not wanted. + +De Chauxville nodded. + +"Where is Sydney Bamborough?" asked Vassili, with his mask-like smile. + +"Dead," replied the other quietly. + +"Prove it." + +De Chauxville looked up sharply. The cigarette dropped from his fingers +to the floor. His face was yellow and drawn, with a singular tremble of +the lips, which were twisted to one side. + +"Good God!" he whispered hoarsely. + +There was only one thought in his mind--a sudden wild desire to rise up +and stand by Etta against the whole world. Verily we cannot tell what +love may make of us, whither it may lead us. We only know that it never +leaves us as it found us. + +Then, leaning quietly against the stove, Vassili stated his case. + +"Rather more than a year ago," he said, "I received an offer of the +papers connected with a great scheme in this country. After certain +enquiries had been made I accepted the offer. I paid a fabulous price +for the papers. They were brought to me by a lady wearing a thick +veil--a lady I had never seen before. I asked no questions, and paid her +the money. It subsequently transpired that the papers had been stolen, +as you perhaps know, from the house of Count Stepan Lanovitch--the house +to which you happen to be going--at Thors. Well, that is all ancient +history. It is to be supposed that the papers were stolen by Sydney +Bamborough, who brought them here--probably to this hotel, where his +wife was staying. He handed her the papers, and she conveyed them to me +in Paris. But before she reached Petersburg they would have been missed +by Stepan Lanovitch, who would naturally suspect the man who had been +staying in his house, Bamborough--a man with a doubtful reputation in +the diplomatic world, a professed doer of dirty jobs. Foreseeing this, +and knowing that the League was a big thing, with a few violent members +on its books, Sydney Bamborough did not attempt to leave Russia by the +western route. He probably decided to go through Nijni, down the Volga, +across the Caspian, and so on to Persia and India. You follow me?" + +"Perfectly!" answered De Chauxville coldly. + +"I have been here a week," went on the Russian spy, "making enquiries. I +have worked the whole affair out, link by link, till the evening when +the husband and wife parted. She went west with the papers. Where did he +go?" + +De Chauxville picked up the cigarette, looked at it curiously, as at a +relic--the relic of the moment of strongest emotion through which he had +ever passed--and threw it into the ash-tray. He did not speak, and +after a moment Vassili went on, stating his case with lawyer-like +clearness. + +"A body was found on the steppe," he said; "the body of a middle-aged +man dressed as a small commercial traveller would dress. He had a little +money in his pocket, but nothing to identify him. He was buried here in +Tver by the police, who received their information by an anonymous +post-card posted in Tver. The person who had found the body did not want +to be implicated in any enquiry. Now, who found the body? Who was the +dead man? Mrs. Sydney Bamborough has assumed that the dead man was her +husband; on the strength of that assumption she has become a princess. A +frail foundation upon which to build up her fortunes, eh?" + +"How did she know that the body had been found?" asked De Chauxville, +perceiving the weak point in his companion's chain of argument. + +"It was reported shortly in the local newspapers," replied Vassili, "and +repeated in one or two continental journals, as the police were of +opinion that the man was a foreigner. Any one watching the newspapers +would see it--otherwise the incident might pass unobserved." + +"And you think," said De Chauxville, suppressing his excitement with an +effort, "that the lady has risked every thing upon a supposition?" + +"Knowing the lady, I do." + +De Chauxville's dull eyes gleamed for a moment with an unwonted light. +All the civilization of the ages will not eradicate the primary +instincts of men--and one of these, in good and bad alike, is to protect +women. The Frenchman bit the end of his cigarette, and angrily wiped the +tobacco from his lips. + +"She may have information of which you are ignorant," he suggested. + +"Precisely. It is that particular point which gives me trouble at the +present moment. It is that that I wish to discover." + +De Chauxville looked up coolly. He saw his advantage. + +"Hence your sudden flow of communicativeness?" he said. + +Vassili nodded. + +"You cannot find out for yourself, so you seek my help?" went on the +Frenchman. + +Again the Russian nodded his head. + +"And your price?" said De Chauxville, drawing in his feet and leaning +forward, apparently to study the pattern of the carpet. The action +concealed his face. He was saving Etta, and he was ashamed of himself. + +"When you have the information you may name your own price," said the +Russian coldly. + +There was a long silence. Before speaking De Chauxville turned and took +a glass of liqueur from the table. His hand was not quite steady. He +raised the glass quickly and emptied it. Then he rose and looked at his +watch. The silence was a compact. + +"When the lady dined with you in Paris, did she recognize you?" he +asked. + +"Yes; but she did not know that I recognized her." + +For the moment they both overlooked Steinmetz. + +De Chauxville stood reflecting. + +"And your theory," he said, "respecting Sydney Bamborough--what is it?" + +"If he got away to Nijni and the Volga, it is probable that he is in +Eastern Siberia or in Persia at this moment. He has not had time to get +right across Asia yet." + +De Chauxville moved toward the door. With his fingers on the handle he +paused again. + +"I leave early to-morrow morning," he said. + +Vassili nodded, or rather he bowed, in his grand way. + +Then De Chauxville went out of the room. They did not shake hands. There +is sometimes shame among thieves. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +IN THE WEB + +"What I propose is that Catrina takes you for a drive, my dear baron, +with her two ponies." + +The countess had taken very good care to refrain from making this +proposal to Catrina alone. She was one of those mothers who rule their +daughters by springing surprises upon them in a carefully selected +company where the daughter is not free to reply. + +De Chauxville bowed with outspread hands. + +"If it will not bore mademoiselle," he replied. + +The countess looked at her daughter with an unctuous smile, as if to +urge her on to make the most of this opportunity. It was one of the +countess's chief troubles that she could not by hook or crook involve +Catrina in any sort of a love intrigue. She was the sort of mother who +would have preferred to hear scandal about her daughter to hearing +nothing. + +"If it will not freeze monsieur," replied Catrina, with uncompromising +honesty. + +De Chauxville laughed in his frank way. + +"I am not afraid of coldness--of the atmosphere, mademoiselle," he +replied. "I am most anxious to see your beautiful country. It was quite +dark during the last hour of my journey last night, and I had +snow-sleepiness. I saw nothing." + +"You will see nothing but snow," said Catrina. + +"Which is like the reserve of a young girl," added the Frenchman. "It +keeps warm that which is beneath it." + +"You need not be afraid with Catrina," chimed in the countess, nodding +and becking in a manner that clearly showed her assumption to herself of +some vague compliment. "She drives beautifully. She is not nervous in +that way. I have never seen any one drive like her." + +"I have no doubt," said De Chauxville, "that mademoiselle's hands are +firm, despite their diminutiveness." + +The countess was charmed--and showed it. She frowned at Catrina, who +remained grave and looked at the clock. + +"When would you like to go?" she asked De Chauxville, with that complete +absence of affectation which the Russian, of all women of the world, +alone have mastered in their conversation with men. + +"Am I not at your service--now and always?" responded the gallant baron. + +"I hope not," replied Catrina quietly. "There are occasions when I have +no use for you. Shall we say eleven o'clock?" + +"With pleasure. Then I will go and write my letters now," said the +baron, quitting the room. + +"A charming man!" ejaculated the countess, before the door was well +closed. + +"A fool!" corrected Catrina. + +"I do not think you can say that, dear," sighed the countess, more in +sorrow than in anger. + +"A clever one," answered Catrina. "There is a difference. The clever +ones are the worst." + +The countess shrugged her shoulders hopelessly, and Catrina left the +room. She went upstairs to her own little den, where the piano stood. It +was the only room in the house that was not too warm, for here the +window was occasionally opened--a proceeding which the countess +considered scarcely short of criminal. + +Catrina began to play, feverishly, nervously, with all the weird force +of her nature. She was like a very sick person seeking a desperate +remedy--racing against time. It was her habit to take her breaking heart +thus to the great masters, to interpret their thoughts in their music, +welding their melodies to the needs of her own sorrow. She only had half +an hour. Of late music had failed her a little. It had not given her the +comfort she had usually extracted from solitude and the piano. She was +in a dangerous humor. She was afraid of trusting herself to De +Chauxville. The time fled, and her humor did not change. She was still +playing when the door opened, and the countess stood before her flushed +and angry, either or both being the effect of stairs upon emotion. + +"Catrina!" the elder lady exclaimed. "The sleigh is at the door, and the +count is waiting. I cannot tell what you are thinking of. It is not +every-body who would be so attentive to you. Just look at your hair. Why +can't you dress like other girls?" + +"Because I am not made like other girls," replied Catrina--and who knows +what bitterness of reproach there was in such an answer from daughter to +mother? + +"Hush, child," replied the countess, whose anger usually took the form +of personal abuse. "You are as the good God made you." + +"Then the good God must have made me in the dark," cried Catrina, +flinging out of the room. + +"She will be down directly," said the Countess Lanovitch to De +Chauxville, whom she found smoking a cigarette in the hall. "She +naturally--he! he!--wishes to make a careful toilet." + +De Chauxville bowed gravely, without committing himself to any +observation, and offered her a cigarette, which she accepted. Having +achieved his purpose, he did not now propose to convey the impression +that he admired Catrina. + +In a few moments the girl appeared, drawing on her fur gloves. Before +the door was opened the countess discreetly retired to the enervating +warmth of her own apartments. + +Catrina gathered up the reins and gave a little cry, at which the ponies +leaped forward, and in a whirl of driven snow the sleigh glided off +between the pines. + +At first there was no opportunity of conversation, for the ponies were +fresh and troublesome. The road over which they were passing had not +been beaten down by the passage of previous sleighs, so that the powdery +snow rose up like dust, and filled the eyes and mouth. + +"It will be better presently," gasped Catrina, wrestling with her +fractious little Tartar thoroughbreds, "when we get out on to the +high-road." + +De Chauxville sat quite still. If he felt any misgiving as to her power +of mastering her team he kept it to himself. There was a subtle +difference in his manner toward Catrina when they were alone together, a +suggestion of camaraderie, of a common interest and a common desire, of +which she was conscious without being able to put definite meaning to +it. + +It annoyed and alarmed her. While giving her full attention to the +management of the sleigh, she was beginning to dread the first words of +this man, who was merely wielding a cheap power acquired in the shady +course of his career. There is nothing so disarming as the assumed air +of intimate knowledge of one's private thoughts and actions. De +Chauxville assumed this air with a skill against which Catrina's dogged +strength of character was incapable of battling. His manner conveyed the +impression that he knew more of Catrina's inward thoughts than any other +living being, and she was simple enough to be frightened into the +conclusion that she had betrayed herself to him. There is no simpler +method of discovering a secret than to ignore its existence. + +It is possible that De Chauxville became aware of Catrina's sidelong +glances of anxiety in his direction. He may have divined that silence +was more effective than speech. + +He sat looking straight in front of him, as if too deeply absorbed in +his own thoughts to take even a passing interest in the scenery. + +"Why did you come here?" asked Catrina suddenly. + +De Chauxville seemed to awake from a revery. He turned and looked at her +in assumed surprise. They were on the high-road now, where the snow was +beaten down, so conversation was easy. + +"But--to see you, mademoiselle." + +"I am not _that_ sort of girl," answered Catrina coldly. "I want the +truth." + +De Chauxville gave a short laugh and looked at her. + +"Prophets and kings have sought the truth, mademoiselle, and have not +found it," he said lightly. + +Catrina made no answer to this. Her ponies required considerable +attention. Also, there are some minds like large banking houses--not +dealing in small change. That which passes in or out of such minds has +its own standard of importance. Such people are not of much use in these +days, when we like to touch things lightly, adorning a tale but pointing +no moral. + +"I would ask you to believe that your society was one incentive to make +me accept the countess's kind hospitality," the Frenchman observed after +a pause. + +"And?" + +De Chauxville looked at her. He had not met many women of solid +intellect. + +"And?" repeated Catrina. + +"I have others, of course." + +Catrina gave a little nod and waited. + +"I wish to be near Alexis," added De Chauxville. + +Catrina was staring straight in front of her. Her face had acquired a +habit of hardening at the mention of Paul's name. It was stone-like now, +and set. Perhaps she might have forgiven him if he had loved her once, +if only for a little while. She might have forgiven him, if only for the +remembrance of that little while. But Paul had always been a man of set +purpose, and such men are cruel. Even for her sake, even for the sake of +his own vanity, he had never pretended to love Catrina. He had never +mistaken gratified vanity for dawning love, as millions of men do. Or +perhaps he was without vanity. Some few men are so constructed. + +"Do you love him so?" asked Catrina, with a grim smile distorting her +strong face. + +"As much as you, mademoiselle," replied De Chauxville. + +Catrina started. She was not sure that she hated Paul. Toward Etta, +there was no mistake in her feeling, and this was so strong that, like +an electric current, there was enough of it to pass through the wife and +reach the husband. + +Passion, like character, does not grow in crowded places. In great +cities men are all more or less alike. It is only in solitary abodes +that strong natures grow up in their own way. Catrina had grown to +womanhood in one of the solitary places of the earth. She had no facile +axiom, no powerful precedent, to guide her every step through life. The +woman who was in daily contact with her was immeasurably beneath her in +mental power, in force of character, in those possibilities of love or +hatred which go to make a strong life for good or for evil. By the side +of her daughter the Countess Lanovitch was as the willow, swayed by +every wind, in the neighborhood of the oak, crooked and still and +strong. + +"In Petersburg you pledged yourself to help me," said De Chauxville. And +although she knew that in the letter this was false, she did not +contradict him. "I came here to claim fulfilment of your promise." + +The hard blue eyes beneath the fur cap stared straight in front of them. +Catrina seemed to be driving like one asleep, for she noted nothing by +the roadside. So far as eye could reach over the snow-clad plain, +through the silent pines, these two were alone in a white, dead world of +their own. Catrina never drove with bells. There was no sound beyond the +high-pitched drone of the steel runners over the powdery snow. They were +alone; unseen, unheard save of that Ear that listens in the waste places +of the world. + +"What do you want me to do?" she asked. + +"Oh, not very much!" answered De Chauxville--a cautious man, who knew a +woman's humor. Catrina driving a pair of ponies in the clear, sharp air +of Central Russia, and Catrina playing the piano in the enervating, +flower-scented atmosphere of a drawing-room, were two different women. +De Chauxville was not the man to mistake the one for the other. + +"Not very much, mademoiselle," he answered. "I should like Mme. la +Comtesse to invite the whole Osterno party to dine, and sleep, perhaps, +if one may suggest it." + +Catrina wanted this too. She wanted to torture herself with the sight of +Etta, beautiful, self-confident, carelessly cognizant of Paul's love. +She wanted to see Paul look at his wife with the open admiration which +she had set down as something else than love--something immeasurably +beneath love as Catrina understood that passion. Her soul, brooding +under a weight of misery, was ready to welcome any change, should it +only mean a greater misery. + +"I can manage that," she said, "if they will come. It was a prearranged +matter that there should be a bear-hunt in our forests." + +"That will do," answered De Chauxville reflectively; "in a few days, +perhaps, if it suits the countess." + +Catrina made no reply. After a pause she spoke again, in her strange, +jerky way. + +"What will you gain by it?" she asked. + +De Chauxville shrugged his shoulders. + +"Who knows?" he answered. "There are many things I want to know; many +questions which can be answered only by one's own observation. I want to +see them together. Are they happy?" + +Catrina's face hardened. + +"If there is a God in heaven, and he hears our prayers, they ought not +to be," she replied curtly. + +"She looked happy enough in Petersburg," said the Frenchman, who never +told the truth for its own sake. Whenever he thought that Catrina's +hatred needed stimulation he mentioned Etta's name. + +"There are other questions in my mind," he went on, "some of which you +can answer, mademoiselle, if you care to." + +Catrina's face expressed no great willingness to oblige. + +"The Charity League," said De Chauxville, looking at her keenly; "I have +always had a feeling of curiosity respecting it. Was, for instance, our +friend the Prince Pavlo implicated in that unfortunate affair?" + +Catrina flushed suddenly. She did not take her eyes from the ponies. She +was conscious of the unwonted color in her cheeks, which was slowly +dying away beneath her companion's relentless gaze. + +"You need not trouble to reply, mademoiselle," said De Chauxville, with +his dark smile; "I am answered." + +Catrina pulled the ponies up with a jerk, and proceeded to turn their +willing heads toward home. She was alarmed and disturbed. Nothing seemed +to be safe from the curiosity of this man, no secret secure, no +prevarication of the slightest avail. + +"There are other questions in my mind," said De Chauxville quietly, "but +not now. Mademoiselle is no doubt tired." + +He leaned back, and when at length he spoke it was to give utterance to +the trite commonplace of which he made a conversational study. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +IN THE CASTLE OF THORS + +A week later Catrina, watching from the window of her own small room, +saw Paul lift Etta from the sleigh, and the sight made her clench her +hands until the knuckles shone like polished ivory. + +She turned and looked at herself in the mirror. No one knew how she had +tried one dress after another since luncheon, alone in her two rooms, +having sent her maid down stairs. No one knew the bitterness in this +girl's heart as she contemplated her own reflection. + +She went slowly down stairs to the long, dimly lighted drawing-room. As +she entered she heard her mother's cackling voice. + +"Yes, princess," the countess was saying, "it is a quaint old house; +little more than a fortified farm, I know. But my husband's family were +always strange. They seem always to have ignored the little comforts and +elegancies of life." + +"It is most interesting," answered Etta's voice, and Catrina stepped +forward into the light. + +Formal greetings were exchanged, and Catrina saw Etta look anxiously +toward the door through which she had just come. She thought that she +was looking for her husband. But it was Claude de Chauxville for whose +appearance Etta was waiting. + +Paul and Steinmetz entered at the same moment by another door, and +Catrina, who was talking to Maggie in English, suddenly stopped. + +"Ah, Catrina," said Paul, "we have broken new ground for you. There was +no track from here to Osterno through the forest. I made one this +afternoon, so you have no excuse for remaining away, now." + +"Thank you," answered Catrina, withdrawing her cold hand hurriedly from +his friendly grasp. + +"Miss Delafield," went on Paul, "admires our country as much as you do." + +"I was just telling mademoiselle," said Maggie, speaking French with an +honest English accent. + +Paul nodded, and left them together. + +"Yes," the countess was saying at the other end of the gloomy room; +"yes, we are greatly attached to Thors: Catrina, perhaps, more than I. I +have some happy associations, and many sorrowful ones. But then--mon +Dieu!--how isolated we are!" + +"It is rather far from--anywhere," acceded Etta, who was not attending, +although she appeared to be interested. + +"Far! Princess, I often wonder how Paris and Thors can be in the same +world! Before our--our troubles we used to live in Paris a portion of +the year. At least I did, while my poor husband travelled about. He had +a hobby, you know, poor man! Humanity was his hobby. I have always found +that men who seek to do good to their fellows are never thanked. Have +you noticed that? The human race is not grateful en gros. There is a +little gratitude in the individual, but none in the race." + +"None," answered Etta absently. + +"It was so with the Charity League," went on the countess volubly. She +paused and looked round with her feeble eyes. + +"We are all friends," she went on; "so it is safe to mention the Charity +League, is it not?" + +"No," answered Steinmetz from the fire-place; "no, madame. There is only +one friend to whom you may safely mention that." + +"Ah! Bad example!" exclaimed the countess playfully. "You are there! I +did not see you enter. And who is that friend?" + +"The fair lady who looks at you from your mirror," replied Steinmetz, +with a face of stone. + +The countess laughed and shook her cap to one side. + +"Well," she said, "I can do no harm in talking of such things, as I know +nothing of them. My poor husband--my poor mistaken Stepan--placed no +confidence in his wife. And now he is in Siberia. I believe he works in +a bootmaker's shop. I pity the people who wear the boots; but perhaps he +only puts in the laces. You hear, Paul? He placed no confidence in his +wife, and now he is in Siberia. Let that be a warning to you--eh, +princess? I hope he tells you everything." + +"Put not your trust in princesses," said Steinmetz from the hearth-rug, +where he was still warming his hands, for he had driven Maggie over. "It +says so in the Bible." + +"Princes, profane one!" exclaimed the countess with a laugh--"princes, +not princesses!" + +"It may be so. I bow to your superior literary attainments," replied +Steinmetz, looking casually and significantly at a pile of yellow-backed +foreign novels on a side-table. + +"No," the countess went on, addressing her conversation to Etta; "no, my +husband--figure to yourself, princess--told me nothing. I never knew +that he was implicated in this great scheme. I do not know now who else +was concerned in it. It was all so sudden, so unexpected, so terrible. +It appears that he kept the papers in this very house--in that room +through there. It was his study--" + +"My dear countess, silence!" interrupted Steinmetz at this moment, +breaking into the conversation in his masterful way and enabling Etta to +get away. Catrina, at the other end of the room, was listening, +hard-eyed, breathless. It was the sight of Catrina's face that made +Steinmetz go forward. He had not been looking at Catrina, but at Etta, +who was perfect in her composure and steady self-control. + +"Do you want to enter the boot trade also?" asked Steinmetz cheerfully, +in a lowered voice. + +"Heaven forbid!" cried the countess. + +"Then let us talk of safer things." + +The short twilight was already brooding over the land. The room, lighted +only by small square windows, grew darker and darker until Catrina rang +for lamps. + +"I hate a dark room," she said shortly to Maggie. + +When De Chauxville came in, a few minutes later, Catrina was at the +piano. The room was brilliantly lighted, and on the table gleamed and +glittered the silver tea-things. The intermediate meal had been disposed +of, but the samovar had been left alight, as is the habit at Russian +afternoon teas. + +Catrina looked up when the Frenchman entered, but did not cease playing. + +"There is no need for introductions, I think," said the countess. + +"We all know M. de Chauxville," replied Paul quietly, and the two men +exchanged a glance. + +De Chauxville shook hands with the new-comers, and, while the countess +prepared tea for him, launched into a long description of the +preparations for the bear-hunt of the following day. He addressed his +remarks exclusively to Paul, as between enthusiasts and +fellow-sportsmen. Gradually Paul thawed a little, and made one or two +suggestions which betrayed a deep knowledge and a dawning interest. + +"We shall only be three rifles," said De Chauxville, "Steinmetz, you, +and I; and I must ask you to bear in mind the fact that I am no shot--a +mere amateur, my dear prince. The countess has been good enough to leave +the whole matter in my hands. I have seen the keepers, and I have +arranged that they come to-night at eleven o'clock to see us and to +report progress. They know of three bears, and are attempting to ring +them." + +The Frenchman was really full of information and enthusiasm. There were +many details upon which he required Paul's advice, and the two men +talked together with less constraint than they had hitherto done. De +Chauxville had picked up a vast deal of technical matter, and handled +his little knowledge with a skill which bade fair to deprive it of its +proverbial danger. He presently left Steinmetz and the prince engaged in +a controversy with the countess as to a meeting-place at the +luncheon-hour. + +Maggie and Catrina were at the piano. Etta was looking at a book of +photographs. + +"A charming house, princess," said De Chauxville, in a voice that all +could hear while the music happened to be soft. But Catrina's music was +more remarkable for strength than for softness. + +"Charming," replied Etta. + +The music rose into a swelling burst of harmonious chords. + +"I must see you, princess," said De Chauxville. + +Etta glanced across the room toward her husband and Steinmetz. + +"Alone," added the Frenchman coolly. + +Etta turned a page of the album and looked critically into a photograph. + +"Must!" she said, with a little frown. + +"Must!" repeated De Chauxville. + +"A word I do not care about," said Etta, with raised eyebrows. + +The music was soft again. + +"It is ten years since I held a rifle," said De Chauxville. "Ah, madame, +you do not know the excitement. I pity ladies, for they have no +sport--no big game." + +"Personally, monsieur," answered Etta, with a bright laugh, "I do not +grudge you your big game. Suppose you miss the bear, or whatever it may +be?" + +"Then," said De Chauxville, with a brave shrug of the shoulders, "it is +the turn of the bear. The excitement is his--the laugh is with him." + +Catrina's foot was upon the loud pedal again. + +"Nevertheless, madame," said De Chauxville, "I make so bold as to use +the word. You perhaps know me well enough to be aware that I am rarely +bold unless my ground is sure." + +"I should not boast of it," answered Etta; "there is nothing to be proud +of. It is easy enough to be bold if you are certain of victory." + +"When defeat would be intolerable, even a certain victory requires care! +And I cannot afford to lose." + +"Lose what?" enquired Etta. + +De Chauxville looked at her, but he did not answer. The music was soft +again. + +"I suppose that at Osterno you set no value upon a bear-skin," he said +after a pause. + +"We have many," admitted Etta. "But I love fur, or trophies of any +description. Paul has killed a great deal." + +"Ah!" + +"Yes," answered Etta, and the music rose again. "I should like to know," +she went on, "upon what assumption you make use of a word which does not +often--annoy me." + +"I have a good memory, madame. Besides," he paused, looking round the +room, "there are associations within these walls which stimulate the +memory." + +"What do you mean?" asked Etta, in a hard voice. The hand holding the +album suddenly shook like a leaf in the wind. + +De Chauxville had stood upright, his hand at his mustache, after the +manner of a man whose small-talk is exhausted. It would appear that he +was wondering how he could gracefully get away from the princess to pay +his devoirs elsewhere. + +"I cannot tell you now," he answered; "Catrina is watching us across the +piano. You must beware, madame, of those cold blue eyes." + +He moved away, going toward the piano, where Maggie was standing behind +Catrina's chair. He was like a woman, inasmuch as he could not keep away +from his failures. + +"Are you advanced, Miss Delafield?" he asked, with his deferential +little bow. "Are you modern?" + +"I am neither; I have no desire for even the cheapest form of notoriety. +Why do you ask?" replied Maggie. + +"I was merely wondering whether we were to count you among our rifles +to-morrow. One never knows what ladies will do next; not ladies--I +apologize--women. I suppose it is those who are not by birth ladies who +aspire to the proud name of women. The modern Woman--with a capital +W--is not a lady--n'est ce pas?" + +"She does not mind your abuse, monsieur," laughed Maggie. "So long as +you do not ignore her, she is happy. But you may set your mind at rest +as regards to-morrow. I have never let off a gun in my life, and I am +sensible enough not to begin on bears." + +De Chauxville made a suitable reply, and remained by the piano talking +to the two young ladies until Etta rose and came toward them. He then +crossed to the other side of the room and engaged Paul in the discussion +of further plans for the morrow. + +It was soon time to dress for dinner, and Etta was forced to forego the +opportunity she sought to exchange a word alone with De Chauxville. That +astute gentleman carefully avoided allowing her this opportunity. He +knew the value of a little suspense. + +During dinner and afterward, when at length the gentlemen came to the +drawing-room, the conversation was of a sporting tendency. Bears, +bear-hunting, and bear stories held supreme sway. More than once De +Chauxvilie returned to this subject. Twice he avoided Etta. + +In some ways this man was courageous. He delayed giving Etta her +opportunity until there was a question of retiring to bed in view of the +early start required by the next day's arrangements. It had been finally +settled that the three younger ladies should drive over to a woodman's +cottage at the far end of the forest, where luncheon was to be served. +While this item of the programme was arranged De Chauxville looked +straight at Etta across the table. + +At length she had the chance afforded to her, deliberately, by De +Chauxville. + +"What did you mean?" she asked at once. + +"I have received information which, had I known it three months ago, +would have made a difference in your life." + +"What difference?" + +"I should have been your husband, instead of that thick-headed giant." + +Etta laughed, but her lips were for the moment colorless. + +"When am I to see you alone?" + +Etta shrugged her shoulders. She had plenty of spirit. + +"Please do not be dramatic or mysterious; I am tired. Good-night." + +She rose and concealed a simulated yawn. + +De Chauxville looked at her with his sinister smile, and Etta suddenly +saw the resemblance which Paul had noted between this man and the +grinning mask of the lynx in the smoking-room at Osterno. + +"When?" repeated he. + +Etta shrugged her shoulders. + +"I wish to speak to you about the Charity League," said De Chauxville. + +Etta's eyes dilated. She made a step or two away from him, but she came +back. + +"I shall not go to the luncheon to-morrow, if you care to leave the hunt +early." + +De Chauxville bowed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +ANGLO-RUSSIAN + +At bedtime Catrina went to Maggie's room with her to see that she had +all that she could desire. A wood fire was burning brightly in the open +French stove; the room was lighted by lamps. It was warm and cheery. A +second door led to the little music-room which Catrina had made her own, +and beyond was her bedroom. + +Maggie had assured her hostess that she had every thing that she could +wish, and that she did not desire the services of Catrina's maid. But +the Russian girl still lingered. She was slow to make friends--not shy, +but diffident and suspicious. Her friendship once secured was a thing +worth possessing. She was inclined to bestow it upon this quiet, +self-contained English girl. In such matters the length of an +acquaintance goes for nothing. A long acquaintanceship does not +necessarily mean friendship--one being the result of circumstance, the +other of selection. + +"The princess knows Russian?" said Catrina suddenly. + +She was standing near the dressing-table, where she had been absently +attending to the candles. She wheeled round and looked at Maggie, who +was hospitably sitting on a low chair near the fire. She was sorry for +the loneliness of this girl's life. She did not want her to go away just +yet. There was another chair by the fire, inviting Catrina to indulge in +those maiden confidences which attach themselves to slippers and +hair-brushings. + +Maggie looked up with a smile which slowly ebbed away. Catrina's remark +was of the nature of a defiance. Her half-diffident role of hostess was +suddenly laid aside. + +"No; she does not," answered the English girl. + +Catrina came forward, standing over Maggie, looking down at her with +eyes full of antagonism. + +"Excuse me. I saw her understand a remark I made to one of the servants. +She was not careful. I saw it distinctly." + +"I think you must be mistaken," answered Maggie quietly. "She has been +in Russia before for a few weeks; but she did not learn the language. +She told me so herself. Why should she pretend not to know Russian, if +she does?" + +Catrina made no answer. She sat heavily down in the vacant chair. Her +attitudes were uncouth and strong--a perpetual source of tribulation to +the countess. She sat with her elbow on her knee, staring into the fire. + +"I did not mean to hate her; I did not want to," she said. "If it had +been you, I should not have hated you." + +Maggie's clear eyes wavered for a moment. A faint color rose to her +face. She leaned back so that the firelight did not reach her. There was +a silence, during which Maggie unclasped a bracelet with a little snap +of the spring. Catrina did not hear the sound. She heard nothing. She +did not appear to be aware of her surroundings. Maggie unclasped another +bracelet noisily. She was probably regretting her former kindness of +manner. Catrina had come too near. + +"Are you not judging rather hastily?" suggested Maggie, in a measured +voice which heightened the contrast between the two. "I find it takes +some time to discover whether one likes or dislikes new acquaintances." + +"Yes; but you English are so cold and deliberate. You do not know what +it is to hate--or to care." + +"Perhaps we do," said Maggie; "but we say less about it." + +Catrina turned and looked at her with a queer smile. + +"Less!" she laughed. "Nothing--you say nothing. Paul is the same. I have +seen. I know. You have said nothing since you came to Thors. You have +talked and laughed; you have given opinions; you have spoken of many +things, but you have said nothing. You are the same as Paul--one never +knows. I know nothing about you. But I like you. You are her cousin?" + +"Yes." + +"And I hate her!" + +Maggie laughed. She was quite steady and loyal. + +"When you get to know her you will change, perhaps," she said. + +"Perhaps I know her now better than you do!" + +Maggie laughed in her cheery, practical way. + +"That seems hardly likely, considering that I have known her since we +were children." + +Catrina shrugged her shoulders in an honest if somewhat mannerless +refusal to discuss the side issue. She returned to the main question +with characteristic stubbornness. + +"I shall always hate her," she said. "I am sorry she is your cousin. I +shall always regret that, and I shall always hate her. There is +something wrong about her--something none of you know except Karl +Steinmetz. He knows every thing--Herr Steinmetz." + +"He knows a great deal," admitted Maggie. + +"Yes; and that is why he is sad. Is it not so?" + +Catrina sat staring into the fire, her strange, earnest eyes almost +fierce in their concentration. + +"Did she pretend that she loved him at first?" she asked suddenly. + +Receiving no answer, she looked up and fixed her searching gaze on the +face of her companion. Maggie was looking straight in front of her in +the direction of the fire, but not with eyes focussed to see any thing +so near at hand. She bore the scrutiny without flinching. As soon as +Catrina's eyes were averted the mask-like stillness of her features +relaxed. + +"She does not take that trouble now," added the Russian girl, in reply +to her own question. "Did you see her to-night when we were at the +piano? M. de Chauxville was talking to her. They were keeping two +conversations going at the same time. I could see by their faces. They +said different things when the music was loud. I hate her. She is not +true to Paul. M. de Chauxville knows something about her. They have +something in common which is not known to Paul or to any of us! Why do +you not speak? Why do you sit staring into the fire with your lips so +close together?" + +"Because I do not think that we shall gain any thing by discussing Paul +and his wife. It is no business of ours." + +Catrina laughed--a lamentable, mirthless laugh. + +"That is because she is your cousin; and he--he is nothing to you. You +do not care whether he is happy or not!" + +Catrina had turned upon her companion fiercely. Maggie swung round in +her chair to pick up her bracelets, which had slipped from her knees to +the floor. + +"You exaggerate things," she said quietly. "I see no reason to suppose +that Paul is unhappy. It is because you have taken this unreasoning +dislike to her." + +She took a long time to collect three bracelets. Then she rose and +placed them on the dressing-table. + +"Do you want me to go?" asked Catrina, in her blunt way. + +"No," answered Maggie, civilly enough; but she extracted a couple of +hair-pins rather obviously. + +Catrina heeded the voice and not the action. + +"You English are all alike," she said. "You hold one at arm's length. I +suppose there is some one in England for whom you care--who is out of +all this--away from all the troubles of Russia. This has nothing to do +with your life. It is only a passing incident--a few weeks to be +forgotten when you go back. I wonder what he is like--the man in +England. You need not tell me. I am not curious in that way. I am not +asking you to tell me. I am just wondering. For I know there is some +one. I knew it when I first saw you. You are so quiet, and settled, and +self-contained--like a person who has played a game and knows for +certain that it is lost or won, and does not want to play again. Your +hair is very pretty; you are very pretty, you quiet English girl. I +wonder what you think about behind your steady eyes." + +"I?" said Maggie, with a little laugh. "Oh--I think about my dresses, +and the new fashions, and parties, and all the things that girls do +think of." + +Catrina shook her head. She looked stubborn and unconvinced. Then +suddenly she changed the conversation. + +"Do you like M. de Chauxville?" she asked. + +"No." + +"Does Paul like him?" + +"I don't know." + +Catrina looked up for a moment only. Then her eyes returned to the +contemplation of the burning pine-logs. + +"I wonder why you will not talk of Paul," she said, in a voice requiring +no answer. + +Maggie moved rather uneasily. She had her back turned toward Catrina. + +"I am afraid I am rather a dull person," she answered. "I have not much +to say about any body." + +"And nothing about Paul?" suggested Catrina. + +"Nothing. We were talking of M. de Chauxville." + +"Yes; I do not understand M. de Chauxville. He seems to me to be the +incarnation of insincerity. He poses--even to himself. He is always +watching for the effect. I wonder what the effect of himself upon +himself may be." + +Maggie laughed. + +"That is rather complicated," she said. "It requires working out. I +think he is deeply impressed with his own astuteness. If he were simpler +he would be cleverer." + +Catrina was afraid of Claude de Chauxville, and, because this was so, +she stared in wonder at the English girl, who dismissed him from the +conversation and her thoughts with a few careless words of contempt. +Such minds as that of Miss Delafield were quite outside the field of De +Chauxville's influence, while that Frenchman had considerable power over +highly strung and imaginative natures. + +Catrina Lanovitch had begun by tolerating him--had proceeded to make the +serious blunder of permitting him to be impertinently familiar, and was +now exaggerating in her own mind the hold that he had over her. She did +not actually dislike him. So few people had taken the trouble or found +the expediency of endeavoring to sympathize with her or understand her +nature, that she was unconsciously drawn toward this man whom she now +feared. + +In exaggerating the power he exercised over herself she somewhat +naturally exaggerated also his importance in the world and in the lives +of those around him. She had imagined him all-powerful; and the first +person to whom she mentioned his name dismissed the subject +indifferently. Her own entire sincerity had enabled her to detect the +insincerity of her ally. She had purposely made mention of the weak spot +which she had discovered, in order that her observation might be +corroborated. And this Maggie had failed to do. + +With the slightest encouragement, Catrina would have told her companion +all that had passed. The sympathy between women is so strong that there +is usually only one man who is safe from discussion. In Catrina's case +that one man was not Claude de Chauxville. But Maggie Delafield was of +different material from this impressionable, impulsive Russian girl. She +was essentially British in her capacity for steering a straight personal +course through the shoals and quicksands of her neighbors' affairs, as +also in the firm grip she held upon her own thoughts. She was by no +means prepared to open her mind to the first comer, and in her somewhat +slow-going English estimate of such matters Catrina was as yet little +more than the first comer. + +She changed the subject, and they talked for some time on indifferent +topics--such topics as have an interest for girls; and who are we that +we may despise them? We jeer very grandly at girls' talk, and promptly +return to the discussion of our dogs and pipes and clothing. + +But Catrina was not happy under this judicious treatment. She had no one +in the world to whom she could impart a thousand doubts and questions--a +hundred grievances and one great grief. And it was just this one great +grief of which Maggie dreaded the mention. She was quite well aware of +its existence--had been aware of it for some time. Karl Steinmetz had +thrown out one or two vague hints; everything pointed to it. Maggie +could hardly be ignorant of the fact that Catrina had grown to womanhood +loving Paul. + +A score of times Catrina approached the subject, and with imperturbable +steadfastness Maggie held to her determination that Paul was not to be +discussed by them. She warded, she evaded, she ignored with a skill +which baffled the simple Russian. She had a hundred subterfuges--a +hundred skilful turns and twists. Where women learn these matters, +Heaven only knows! All our experience of the world, our falls and +stumbles on the broken road of life, never teach us some things that are +known to the veriest schoolgirl standing on the smoother footpath that +women tread. + +At last Catrina rose to go. Maggie rose also. Women are relentless where +they fight for their own secrets. Maggie morally turned Catrina out of +the room. The two girls stood looking at each other for a moment. They +had nothing in common. The language in which they understood each other +best was the native tongue of neither. Born in different countries, each +of a mixed race with no one racial strain in common, neither creed, nor +education, nor similarity of thought had aught to draw them together. +They looked at each other, and God's hand touched them. They both loved +the same man. They did not hate each other. + +"Have you every thing you want?" asked Catrina. + +The question was startling. Catrina's speech was ever abrupt. At first +Maggie did not understand. + +"Yes, thanks," she answered. "I am very tired. I suppose it is the +snow." + +"Yes," said Catrina mechanically; "it is the snow." + +She went toward the door, and there she paused. + +"Does Paul love her?" she asked abruptly. + +Maggie made no answer; and, as was her habit, Catrina replied to her own +question. + +"You know he does not--you know he does not!" she said. + +Then she went out, without waiting for an answer, closing the door +behind her. The closed door heard the reply. + +"It will not matter much," said Maggie, "so long as he never finds it +out." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +WOLF! + +The Countess Lanovitch never quitted her own apartments before mid-day. +She had acquired a Parisian habit of being invisible until +luncheon-time. The two girls left the castle of Thors in a sleigh with +one attendant at ten o'clock in order to reach the hut selected for +luncheon by mid-day. Etta did not accompany them. She had a slight +headache. + +At eleven o'clock Claude de Chauxville returned alone, on horseback. +After the sportsmen had separated, each to gain his prearranged position +in the forest, he had tripped over his rifle, seriously injuring the +delicate sighting mechanism. He found (he told the servant who opened +the door for him) that he had just time to return for another rifle +before the operation of closing in on the bears was to begin. + +"If Madame the Princess," was visible, he went on, would the servant +tell her that M. de Chauxville was waiting in the library to assure her +that there was absolutely no danger to be anticipated in the day's +sport. The princess, it would appear, was absurdly anxious about the +welfare of her husband--an experienced hunter and a dead shot. + +Claude de Chauxville then went to the library, where he waited, booted, +spurred, rifle in hand, for Etta. + +After a lapse of five minutes or more, the door was opened, and Etta +came leisurely into the room. + +"Well?" she enquired indifferently. + +De Chauxville bowed. He walked past her and closed the door, which she +happened to have left open. + +Then he returned and stood by the window, leaning gracefully on his +rifle. His attitude, his hunting-suit, his great top-boots, made rather +a picturesque object of him. + +"Well?" repeated Etta, almost insolently. + +"It would have been wiser to have married me," said De Chauxville +darkly. + +Etta shrugged her shoulders. + +"Because I understand you better; I _know_ you better than your +husband." + +Etta turned and glanced at the clock. + +"Have you come back from the bear-hunt to tell me this, or to avoid the +bears?" she asked. + +De Chauxville frowned. A man who has tasted fear does not like a +question of his courage. + +"I have come to tell you that and other things," he answered. + +He looked at her with his sinister smile and a little upward jerk of the +head. He extended his open hand, palm upward, with the fingers slightly +crooked. + +"I hold you, madame," he said--"I hold you in my hand. You are my slave, +despite your brave title; my thing, my plaything, despite your servants, +and your great houses, and your husband! When I have finished telling +you all that I have to tell, you will understand. You will perhaps thank +me for being merciful." + +Etta laughed defiantly. + +"You are afraid of Paul," she cried. "You are afraid of Karl Steinmetz; +you will presently be afraid of me." + +"I think not," said De Chauxville coolly. The two names just mentioned +were certainly not of pleasant import in his ears, but he was not going +to let a woman know that. This man had played dangerous cards before +now. He was not at all sure of his ground. He did not know what Etta's +position was in regard to Steinmetz. Behind the defiant woman there +lurked the broad shadow of the man who never defied; who knew many +things, but was ignorant of fear. + +Unlike Karl Steinmetz, De Chauxville was not a bold player. He liked to +be sure of his trick before he threw down his trump card. His method was +not above suspicion: he liked to know what cards his adversary held, and +one may be sure that he was not above peeping. + +"Karl Steinmetz is no friend of yours," he said. + +Etta did not answer. She was thinking of the conversation she had had +with Steinmetz in Petersburg. She was wondering whether the friendship +he had offered--the solid thing as he called it--was not better than the +love of this man. + +"I have information now," went on De Chauxville, "which would have made +you my wife, had I had it sooner." + +"I think not," said the lady insolently. She had dealt with such men +before. Hers was the beauty that appealed to De Chauxville and such as +he. It is not the beautiful women who see the best side of human nature. + +"Even now," went on the Frenchman, "now that I know you--I still love +you. You are the only woman I shall ever love." + +"Indeed!" murmured the lady, quite unmoved. + +"Yes; although in a way I despise you--now that I know you." + +"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Etta. "If you have any thing to say, please say +it. I have no time to probe your mysteries--to discover your parables. +You know me well enough, perhaps, to be aware that I am not to be +frightened by your cheap charlatanism." + +"I know you well enough," retorted De Chauxville hoarsely, "to be aware +that it was you who sold the Charity League papers to Vassili in Paris. +I know you well enough, madame, to be aware of your present position in +regard to your husband. If I say a word in the right quarter you would +never leave Russia alive. I have merely to say to Catrina Lanovitch that +it was you who banished her father for your own gain. I have merely to +hand your name in to certain of the Charity League party, and even your +husband could not save you." + +He had gradually approached her, and uttered the last words face to +face, his eyes close to hers. She held her head up--erect, defiant +still. + +"So you see, madame," he said, "you belong to me." + +She smiled. + +"Hand and foot," he added. "But I am soft-hearted." + +He shrugged his shoulders and turned away. + +"What will you?" he said, looking out of the window. "I love you." + +"Nonsense!" + +He turned slowly round. + +"What?" + +"Nonsense!" repeated Etta. "You love power; you are a bully. You love to +please your own vanity by thinking that you have me in your power. I am +not afraid of you." + +De Chauxville leaned gracefully against the window. He still held his +rifle. + +"Reflect a little," he said, with his cold smile. "It would appear that +you do not quite realize the situation. Women rarely realize situations +in time. Our friend--your husband--has many of the English +idiosyncrasies. He has all the narrow-minded notions of honor which +obtain in that country. Added to this, I suspect him of possessing a +truly Slavonic fire which he keeps under. 'A smouldering fire--' You +know, madame, our French proverb. He is not the man to take a rational +and broad-minded view of your little transaction with M. Vassili; more +especially, perhaps, as it banished his friend Stepan Lanovitch--the +owner of this house, by the way. His reception of the news I have to +tell him would be unpleasant--for you." + +"What do you want?" interrupted Etta. "Money?" + +"I am not a needy adventurer." + +"And I am not such a fool, M. de Chauxville, as to allow myself to be +dragged into a vulgar intrigue, borrowed from a French novel, to satisfy +your vanity." + +De Chauxville's dull eyes suddenly flashed. + +"I will trouble you to believe, madame," he said, in a low, concentrated +voice, "that such a thought never entered my head. A De Chauxville is +not a commercial traveller, if you please. No; it may surprise you, but +my feeling for you has more good in it than you would seem capable of +inspiring. God only knows how it is that a bad woman can inspire a good +love." + +Etta looked at him in amazement. She did not always understand De +Chauxville. No matter for surprise, perhaps; for he did not always +understand himself. + +"Then what do you want?" she asked. + +"In the meantime, implicit obedience." + +"What are you going to use me for?" + +"I have ends," replied Claude de Chauxville, who had regained his usual +half-mocking composure, "that you will serve. But they will be your ends +as well as mine. You will profit by them. I will take very good care +that you come to no harm, for you are the ultimate object of all this. +At the end of it all I see only--you." + +Etta shrugged her shoulders. It is to be presumed that she was +absolutely heartless. Many women are. It is when a heartless woman has +brains that one hears of her. + +"What if I refuse?" asked Etta, keenly aware of the fact that this man +was handicapped by his love for her. + +"Then I will force you to obedience." + +Etta raised her delicate eyebrows insolently. + +"Ah!" + +"Yes," said De Chauxville, with suppressed anger; "I will force you to +obey me." + +The princess looked at him with her little mocking smile. She raised one +hand to her head with a reflective air, as if a hair-pin were of greater +importance than his words. She had dressed herself rather carefully for +this interview. She never for a moment overlooked the fact that she was +a woman, and beautiful. She did not allow him to forget it either. + +Her mood of outraged virtue was now suddenly thrown into the background +by a phase of open coquetry. Beneath her eyelids she watched for the +effect of her pretty, provoking attitude on the man who loved her. She +was on her own territory at this work, playing her own game; and she was +more alarmed by De Chauxville's imperturbability than by any thing he +had said. + +"You have a strange way of proving the truth of your own statements." + +"What statements?" + +She gave a little laugh. Her attitude, her glance, the cunning display +of a perfect figure, the laugh, the whole woman, was the incarnation of +practised coquetry. She did not admit, even to herself, that she was +afraid of De Chauxville. But she was playing her best cards, in her best +manner. She had never known them fail. + +Claude de Chauxville was a little white about the lips. His eyelids +flickered, but by an effort he controlled himself, and she did not see +the light in his eyes for which she looked. + +"If you mean," he said coldly, "the statement that I made to you before +you were married--namely, that I love you--I am quite content to leave +the proof till the future. I know what I am about, madame." + +He took his watch from his pocket and consulted it. + +"I must go in five minutes," he said. "I have a few instructions to give +you, to which I must beg your careful attention." + +He looked up, meeting Etta's somewhat sullen gaze with a smile of +triumph. + +"It is essential," he went on, "that I be invited to Osterno. I do not +want to stay there long; indeed, I do not care to. But I must see the +place. I dare say you can compass the invitation, madame?" + +"It will be difficult." + +"And therefore worthy of your endeavor. I have the greatest regard for +your diplomatic skill. I leave the matter in your hands, princess." + +Etta shrugged her shoulders and looked past him out of the window. De +Chauxville was considering her face carefully. + +"Another point to be remembered," he went on, "is your husband's daily +life at Osterno. The prince is not above suspicion; the authorities are +watching him. He is suspected of propagating revolutionary ideas among +the peasantry. I should like you to find out as much as you can. Perhaps +you know already. Perhaps he has told you, princess. I know that +beautiful face! He has told you! Good! Does he take an interest in the +peasants?" + +Etta did not answer. + +"Kindly give me your attention, madame. Does the prince take an interest +in the peasants?" + +"Yes." + +"An active interest?" + +"Yes." + +"Have you any details?" + +"No," answered Etta. + +"Then you will watch him, and procure those details." + +Etta's face was defiant and pale. De Chauxville never took his eyes from +it. + +"I have undertaken a few small commissions for an old friend of yours, +M. Vassili, whom you obliged once before!" he said; and the defiance +faded from her eyes. + +"The authorities cannot, in these disturbed times, afford to tolerate +princes of an independent turn of mind. Such men are apt to make the +peasant think himself more important than he is. I dare say, madame, +that you are already tired of Russia. It might perhaps serve your ends +if this country was made a little too hot for your husband, eh? I see +your proud lips quivering, princess! It is well to keep the lips under +control. We, who deal in diplomacy, know where to look for such signs. +Yes; I dare say I can get you out of Russia--for ever. But you must be +obedient. You must reconcile yourself to the knowledge that you have +met--your master." + +He bowed in his graceful way, spreading out his hands in mock humility. +Etta did not answer him. For the moment she could see no outlet to this +maze of trouble, and yet she was conscious of not fearing De Chauxville +so much as she feared Karl Steinmetz. + +"A lenient master," pursued the Frenchman, whose vanity was tickled by +the word. "I do not ask much. One thing is to be invited to Osterno, +that I may be near you. The other is a humble request for details of +your daily life, that I may think of you when absent." + +Etta drew in her lips, moistening them as if they had suddenly become +parched. + +De Chauxville glanced at her and moved toward the door. He paused with +his fingers on the handle, and looking back over his shoulder he said: + +"Have I made myself quite clear?" + +Etta was still looking out of the window with hard, angry eyes. She took +no notice of the question. + +De Chauxville turned the handle. + +"Again let me impress upon you the advisability of implicit obedience," +he said, with delicate insolence. "I mentioned the Charity League; but +that is not my strongest claim upon your attention. I have another +interesting little detail of your life, which I will reserve until +another time." + +He closed the door behind him, leaving Etta white-lipped. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +A DANGEROUS EXPERIMENT + +A Russian forest in winter is one of nature's places of worship. There +are some such places in the world, where nature seems to stand in the +presence of the Deity; a sunrise at sea; night on a snow-clad mountain; +mid-day in a Russian forest in winter. These places and these times are +good for convalescent atheists and such as pose as unbelievers--the +cheapest form of notoriety. + +Paul had requested Catrina and Maggie to drive as quietly as possible +through the forest. The warning was unnecessary, for the stillness of +snow is infectious, while the beauty of the scene seemed to command +silence. As usual, Catrina drove without bells. The one attendant on his +perch behind was a fur-clad statue of servitude and silence. Maggie, +leaning back, hidden to the eyes in her sables, had nothing to say to +her companion. The way lay through forests of pine--trackless, +motionless, virgin. The sun, filtering through the snow-laden branches, +cast a subdued golden light upon the ruddy upright trunks of the trees. +At times a willow-grouse, white as the snow, light and graceful on the +wing, rose from the branch where he had been laughing to his mate with a +low, cooing laugh, and fluttered away over the trees. + +"A kooropatka," said Catrina, who knew the life of the forest almost as +well as Paul, whose very existence was wrapped up in these things. + +Far over the summits of the pines a snipe seemed to be wheeling a +sentinel round. He followed them as they sped along, calling out all the +while his deep warning note, like that of a lamb crouching beneath a +hedge where the wind is not tempered. + +Once or twice they heard the dismal howl of a wolf--the most melancholy, +the weirdest, the most hopeless of nature's calls. The whole forest +seemed to be on the alert--astir and in suspense. The wolf, disturbed in +his lair, no doubt heard and understood the cry of the watchful snipe +and the sudden silence of the willow-grouse, who loves to sit and laugh +when all is safe. A clumsy capercailzie, swinging along over the trees +with a great flap and rush of wings, seemed to be intent on his own +solitary, majestic business--a very king among the fowls of the air. + +Amid the topmost branches of the pines the wind whispered and stirred +like a child in sleep; but beneath all was still. Every branch stood +motionless beneath its burden of snow. The air was thin, exhilarating, +brilliant--like dry champagne. It seemed to send the blood coursing +through the veins with a very joy of life. + +Catrina noted all these things while cleverly handling her ponies. They +spoke to her with a thousand voices. She had roamed in these same +forests with Paul, who loved them and understood them as she did. + +Maggie, in the midst as it were of a revelation, leaned back and +wondered at it all. She, too, was thinking of Paul, the owner of these +boundless forests. She understood him better now. This drive had +revealed to her a part of his nature which had rather puzzled her--a +large, simple, quiet strength which had developed and grown to maturity +beneath these trees. We are all part of what we have seen. We all carry +with us through life somewhat of the scenes through which we passed in +childhood. + +Maggie knew now where Paul had learnt the quiet concentration of mind, +the absorption in his own affairs, the complete lack of interest in the +business of his neighbor which made him different from other men. He had +learnt these things at first hand from God's creatures. These +forest-dwellers of fur and feather went about their affairs in the same +absorbed way, with the same complete faith, the same desire to leave and +be left alone. The simplicity of Nature was his. His only craft was +forest craft. + +"Now you know," said Catrina, when they reached the hut, "why I hate +Petersburg." + +Maggie nodded. The effect of the forest was still upon her. She did not +want to talk. + +The woman who received them, the wife of a keeper, had prepared in a +rough way for their reception. She had a large fire and bowls of warm +milk. The doors and windows had been thrown wide open by Paul's orders. +He wanted to spare Maggie too intimate an acquaintance with a Russian +interior. The hut was really a shooting-box built by Paul some years +earlier, and inhabited by a head-keeper, one learned in the ways of bear +and wolf and lynx. The large dwelling-room had been carefully scrubbed. +There was a smell of pine-wood and soap. The table, ready spread with a +simple luncheon, took up nearly the whole of the room. + +While the two girls were warming themselves, a keeper came to the door +of the hut and asked to see Catrina. He stood in the little door-way, +completely filling it, and explained that he could not come in, as the +buckles and straps of his snow-shoes were clogged and frozen. He wore +the long Norwegian snow-shoes, and was held to be the quickest runner in +the country. + +Catrina had a long conversation with the man, who stood hatless, ruddy, +and shy. + +"It is," she then explained to Maggie, "Paul's own man, who always loads +for him and carries his spare gun. He has sent him to tell us that the +game has been ringed, and that the beaters will close in on a place +called the Schapka Clearing, where there is a woodman's refuge. If we +care to put on our snow-shoes, this man will guide us to the clearing +and take care of us till the battue is over." + +Of course Maggie welcomed the proposal with delight, and after a hasty +luncheon the three glided off through the forest as noiselessly as they +had come. After a tiring walk of an hour and more they came to the +clearing, and were duly concealed in the hut. + +No one, the keeper told the ladies, except Paul, knew of their presence +in the little wooden house. The arrangements of the beat had been +slightly altered at the last moment after the hunters had separated. The +keeper lighted a small fire and shyly attended to the ladies, removing +their snow-shoes with clumsy fingers. He closed the door, and arranged a +branch of larch across the window so that they could stand near it +without being seen. + +They had not been there long before De Chauxville appeared. He moved +quickly across the clearing, skimming over the snow with long, sweeping +strides. Two keepers followed him, and after having shown him the rough +hiding-place prepared for him, silently withdrew to their places. Soon +Karl Steinmetz came from another direction, and took up his position +rather nearer to the hut, in a thicket of pine and dwarf oak. He was +only twenty yards away from the refuge where the girls were concealed. + +It was not long before Paul came. He was quite alone, and suddenly +appeared at the far end of the clearing, in very truth a mighty hunter, +standing nearly seven feet on his snow-shoes. One rifle he carried in +his hand, another slung across his back. It was like a silent scene on a +stage. The snow-white clearing, with long-drawn tracks across it where +the snow-shoes had passed, the still trees, the brilliant sun, and the +blue depths of the forest behind; while Paul, like the hero of some grim +Arctic saga, a huge fur-clad Northern giant, stood alone in the +desolation. + +From his attitude it was apparent that he was listening. It was probable +that the cries of the birds and the distant howl of a wolf told his +practised ears how near the beaters were. He presently moved across to +where De Chauxville was hidden, spoke some words of advice or warning to +him, and pointed with his gloved hand in the direction whence the game +might be expected to come. + +It subsequently transpired that Paul was asking De Chauxville the +whereabouts of Steinmetz, who had gained his place of concealment +unobserved by either. De Chauxville could give him no information, and +Paul went away to his post dissatisfied. Karl Steinmetz must have seen +them; he must have divined the subject of their conversation; but he +remained hidden and gave no sign. + +Paul's post was behind a fallen tree, and the watchers in the hut could +see him, while he was completely hidden from any animal that might enter +the open clearing from the far end. He turned and looked hard at the +hut; but the larch branch across the window effectually prevented him +from discovering whether any one was behind it or not. + +Thus they all waited in suspense. A blackcock skimmed across the open +space and disappeared unmolested. A wolf--gray, gaunt, sneaking, and +lurching in his gait--trotted into the clearing and stood listening with +evil lips drawn back. The two girls watched him breathlessly. When he +trotted on unmolested, they drew a deep breath as if they had been under +water. Paul, with his two rifles laid before him, watched the wolf +depart with a smile. The girls could see the smile, and from it learnt +somewhat of the man. The keeper beside them gave a little laugh and +looked to the hammers of his rifle. + +And still there was no sound. It was still, unreal, and like a scene on +the stage. The birds, skimming over the tops of the trees from time to +time, threw in as it were a note of fear and suspense. There was +breathlessness in the air. A couple of hares, like white shadows in +their spotless winter coats, shot from covert to covert across the open +ground. + +Then suddenly the keeper gave a little grunt and held up his hand, +listening with parted lips and eager eyes. There was a distinct sound of +breaking branches and crackling underwood. + +They could see Paul cautiously rise from his knees to a crouching +attitude. They followed the direction of his gaze, and before them the +monarch of these forests stood in clumsy might. A bear had shambled to +the edge of the clearing and was standing upright, growling and +grumbling to himself, his great paws waving from side to side, his +shaggy head thrust forward with a recurring jerk singularly suggestive +of a dandy with an uncomfortable collar. These bears of Northern Russia +have not the reputation of being very fierce unless they are aroused +from their winter quarters, when their wrath knows no bounds and their +courage recognizes no danger. An angry bear is afraid of no living man +or beast. Moreover, these kings of the Northern forests are huge beasts, +capable of smothering a strong man by falling on him and lying there--a +death which has come to more than one daring hunter. The beast's +favorite method of dealing with his foe is to claw him to death, or else +hug him till his ribs are snapped and crushed into his vitals. + +The bear stood poking his head and looking about with little, fiery, +bloodshot eyes for something to destroy. His rage was manifest, and in +his strength he was a grand sight. The majesty of power and a dauntless +courage were his. + +It was De Chauxville's shot, and while keeping his eye on the bear, Paul +glanced impatiently over his shoulder from time to time, wondering why +the Frenchman did not fire. The bear was a huge one, and would probably +carry three bullets and still be a dangerous adversary. + +The keeper muttered impatiently. + +They were watching Paul breathlessly. The bear was approaching him. It +would not be safe to defer firing another second. + +Suddenly the keeper gave a short exclamation of astonishment and threw +up his rifle. + +There was another bear behind Paul, shambling toward him, unseen by him. +All his attention was riveted on the huge brute forty yards in front of +him. It was Claude de Chauxville's task to protect Paul from any flank +or rear attack; and Claude de Chauxville was peering over his covert, +watching with blanched face the second bear; and lifting no hand, making +no sign. The bear was within a few yards of Paul, who was crouching +behind the fallen pine and now raising his rifle to his shoulder. + +In a flash of comprehension the two girls saw all, through the panes of +the closed window. It was still singularly like a scene on the stage. +The second bear raised his powerful fore-paws as he approached. One blow +would tear open Paul's brain. + +A terrific report sent the girls staggering back, for a moment +paralyzing thought. The keeper had fired through the window, both +barrels almost simultaneously. It was a question how much lead would +bring the bear down before he covered the intervening dozen yards. In +the confined space of the hut, the report of the heavy double charge was +like that of a cannon; moreover, Steinmetz, twenty yards away, had fired +at the same moment. + +The room was filled with smoke. The two girls were blinded for an +instant. Then they saw the keeper tear open the door and disappear. The +cold air through the shattered casement was a sudden relief to their +lungs, choked with sulphur and the fumes of spent powder. + +In a flash they were out of the open door; and there again, with the +suddenness of a panorama, they saw another picture--Paul kneeling in the +middle of the clearing, taking careful aim at the retreating form of the +first bear. They saw the puff of blue smoke rise from his rifle, they +heard the sharp report; and the bear rolled over on its face. + +Steinmetz and the keeper were walking toward Paul. Claude de Chauxville, +standing outside his screen of brushwood, was staring with wide, +fear-stricken eyes at the hut which he had thought empty. He did not +know that there were three people behind him, watching him. What had +they seen? What had they understood? + +Catrina and Maggie ran toward Paul. They were on snow-shoes, and made +short work of the intervening distance. + +Paul had risen to his feet. His face was grave. There was a singular +gleam in his eyes, which was not a gleam of mere excitement such as the +chase brings into some men's eyes. + +Steinmetz looked at him and said nothing. For a moment Paul stood still. +He looked round him, noting with experienced glance the lay of the whole +incident--the dead form of the bear ten yards behind his late +hiding-place, one hundred and eighty yards from the hut, one hundred and +sixty yards from the spot whence Karl Steinmetz had sent his unerring +bullet through the bear's brain. Paul saw it all. He measured the +distances. He looked at De Chauxville, standing white-faced at his post, +not fifty yards from the carcass of the second bear. + +Paul seemed to see no one but De Chauxville. He went straight toward +him, and the whole party followed in breathless suspense. Steinmetz was +nearest to him, watching with his keen, quiet eyes. + +Paul went up to De Chauxville and took the rifle from his hands. He +opened the breech and looked into the barrels. They were clean; the +rifle had not been fired off. + +He gave a little laugh of contempt, and, throwing the rifle at De +Chauxville's feet, turned abruptly away. + +It was Catrina who spoke. + +"If you had killed him," she said, "I would have killed you!" + +Steinmetz picked up the rifle, closed the breech, and handed it to De +Chauxville with a queer smile. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +A CLOUD + +When the Osterno party reached home that same evening the starosta was +waiting to see Steinmetz. His news was such that Steinmetz sent for +Paul, and the three men went together to the little room beyond the +smoking-room in the old part of the castle. + +"Well?" said Paul, with the unconscious hauteur which made him a prince +to these people. + +The starosta spread out his hands. + +"Your Excellency," he answered, "I am afraid." + +"Of what?" + +The starosta shrugged his narrow shoulders in cringing deprecation. + +"Excellency, I do not know. There is something in the village--something +in the whole country. I know not what it is. It is a feeling--one cannot +see it, one cannot define it; but it is there, like the gleam of water +at the bottom of a deep well. The moujiks are getting dangerous. They +will not speak to me. I am suspected. I am watched." + +His shifty eyes, like black beads, flitted from side to side as he +spoke. He was like a weasel at bay. It was the face of a man who went in +bodily fear. + +"I will go with you down to the village now," said Paul. "Is there any +excuse--any illness?" + +"Ah, Excellency," replied the chief, "there is always that excuse." + +Paul looked at the clock. + +"I will go now," he said. He began his simple preparations at once. + +"There is dinner to be thought of," suggested Steinmetz, with a resigned +smile. "It is half-past seven." + +"Dinner can wait," replied Paul in English. "You might tell the ladies +that I have gone out, and will dine alone when I come back." + +Steinmetz shrugged his broad shoulders. + +"I think you are a fool," he said, "to go alone. If they discover your +identity they will tear you to pieces." + +"I am not afraid of them," replied Paul, with his head in the medicine +cupboard, "any more than I am afraid of a horse. They are like horses; +they do not know their own strength." + +"With this difference," added Steinmetz, "that the moujik will one day +make the discovery. He is beginning to make it now. The starosta is +quite right, Paul. There is something in the air. It is about time that +you took the ladies away from here and left me to manage it alone." + +"That time will never come again," answered Paul. "I am not going to +leave you alone again." + +He was pushing his arms into the sleeves of the old brown coat reaching +to his heels, a garment which commanded as much love and respect in +Osterno as ever would an angel's wing. + +Steinmetz opened the drawer of his bureau and laid a revolver on the +table. + +"At all events," he said, "you may as well have the wherewithal to make +a fight of it, if the worst comes to the worst." + +"As you like," answered Paul, slipping the fire-arm into his pocket. + +The starosta moved away a pace or two. He was essentially a man of +peace. + +Half an hour later it became known in the village that the Moscow doctor +was in the house of one Ivan Krass, where he was prepared to see all +patients who were now suffering from infectious complaints. The door of +this cottage was soon besieged by the sick and the idle, while the +starosta stood in the door-way and kept order. + +Within, in the one dwelling-room of the cottage, were assembled as +picturesque and as unsavory a group as the most enthusiastic modern +"slummer" could desire to see. + +Paul, standing by the table with two paraffin lamps placed behind him, +saw each suppliant in turn, and all the while he kept up a running +conversation with the more intelligent, some of whom lingered on to talk +and watch. + +"Ah, John the son of John," he would say, "what is the matter with you? +It is not often I see you. I thought you were clean and thrifty." + +To which John the son of John replied that the winter had been hard and +fuel scarce, that his wife was dead and his children stricken with +influenza. + +"But you have had relief; our good friend the starosta--" + +"Does what he can," grumbled John, "but he dare not do much. The barins +will not let him. The nobles want all the money for themselves. The +Emperor is living in his palace, where there are fountains of wine. We +pay for that with our taxes. You see my hand--I cannot work; but I must +pay the taxes, or else we shall be turned out into the street." + +Paul, while attending to the wounded hand--an old story of an old wound +neglected, and a constitution with all the natural healing power drained +out of it by hunger and want and vodka--Paul, ever watchful, glanced +round and saw sullen, lowering faces, eager eyes, hungry, cruel lips. + +"But the winter is over now. You are mistaken about the nobles. They do +what they can. The Emperor pays for the relief that you have had all +these months. It is foolish to talk as you do." + +"I only tell the truth," replied the man, wincing as Paul deliberately +cut away the dead flesh. "We know now why it is that we are all so +poor." + +"Why?" asked Paul, pouring some lotion over a wad of lint and speaking +indifferently. + +"Because the nobles--" began the man, and some one nudged him from +behind, urging him to silence. + +"You need not be afraid of me," said Paul. "I tell no tales, and I take +no money." + +"Then why do you come?" asked a voice in the background. "Some one pays +you; who is it?" + +"Ah, Tula," said Paul, without looking up. "You are there, are you? The +great Tula. There is a hardworking, sober man, my little fathers, who +never beats his wife, and never drinks, and never borrows money. A +useful neighbor! What is the matter with you, Tula? You have been too +sparing with the vodka, no doubt. I must order you a glass every hour." + +There was a little laugh. But Paul, who knew these people, was quite +alive to the difference of feeling toward himself. They still accepted +his care, his help, his medicine; but they were beginning to doubt him. + +"There is your own prince," he went on fearlessly to the man whose hand +he was binding up. "He will help you when there is real distress." + +An ominous silence greeted this observation. + +Paul raised his head and looked round. In the dim light of the two smoky +lamps he saw a ring of wild faces. Men with shaggy beards and hair all +entangled and unkempt, with fierce eyes and lowering glances; women with +faces that unsexed them. There were despair and desperation and utter +recklessness in the air, in the attitude, in the hearts of these people. +And Paul had worked among them for years. The sight would have been +heart-breaking had Paul Howard Alexis been the sort of man to admit the +possibility of a broken heart. All that he had done had been frustrated +by the wall of heartless bureaucracy against which he had pitched his +single strength. There was no visible progress. These were not the faces +of men and women moving up the social scale by the aid of education and +the deeper self-respect that follows it. Some of them were young, +although they hardly looked it. They were young in years, but old in +life and misery. Some of them he knew to be educated. He had paid for +the education himself. He had risked his own personal freedom to procure +it for them, and misery had killed the seed. + +He looked on this stony ground, and his stout heart was torn with pity. +It is easy to be patient in social economy when that vague jumble of +impossible ideas is calmly discussed across the dinner-table. But the +result seems hopelessly distant when the mass of the poor and wretched +stand before one in the flesh. + +Paul knew that this little room was only a specimen of the whole of +Russia. Each of these poor peasants represented a million--equally +hopeless, equally powerless to contend with an impossible taxation. + +He could not give them money, because the tax-collector had them all +under his thumb and would exact the last kopeck. The question was far +above his single-handed reach, and he did not dare to meet it openly and +seek the assistance of the few fellow-nobles who faced the position +without fear. + +He could not see in the brutal faces before him one spark of +intelligence, one little gleam of independence and self-respect which +could be attributed to his endeavor; which the most sanguine +construction could take as resulting from his time and money given to a +hopeless cause. + +"Well," he said. "Have you nothing to tell me of your prince?" + +"You know him," answered the man who had spoken from the safe +background. "We need not tell you." + +"Yes," answered Paul; "I know him." + +He would not defend himself. + +"There," he went on, addressing the man whose hand was now bandaged. +"You will do. Keep clean and sober, and it will heal. Get drunk and go +dirty, and you will die. Do you understand, Ivan Ivanovitch?" + +The man grunted sullenly, and moved away to give place to a woman with a +baby in her arms. + +Paul glanced into her face. He had known her a few years earlier a happy +child playing at her mother's cottage door. + +She drew back the shawl that covered her child, with a faint, far-off +gleam of pride in her eyes. There was something horribly pathetic in the +whole picture. The child-mother, her rough, unlovely face lighted for a +moment with that gleam from Paradise which men never know; the huge man +bending over her, and between them the wizened, disease-stricken little +waif of humanity. + +"When he was born he was a very fine child," said the mother. + +Paul glanced at her. She was quite serious. She was looking at him with +a strange pride on her face. Paul nodded and drew aside the shawl. The +baby was staring at him with wise, grave eyes, as if it could have told +him a thing or two if it had only been gifted with the necessary speech. +Paul knew that look. It meant starvation. + +"What is it?" asked the child-mother. "It is only some little illness, +is it not?" + +"Yes; it is only a little illness." + +He did not add that no great illness is required to kill a small child. +He was already writing something in his pocket-book. He tore the leaf +out and gave it to her. + +"This," he said, "is for you--yourself, you understand? Take that each +day to the starosta and he will give you what I have written down. If +you do not eat all that he gives you and drink what there is in the +bottle as he directs you, the baby will die--you understand? You must +give nothing away; nothing even to your husband." + +The next patient was the man whose voice had been heard from the safe +retreat of the background. His dominant malady was obvious. A shaky +hand, an unsteady eye, and a bloated countenance spoke for themselves. +But he had other diseases more or less developed. + +"So you have no good to tell of your prince," said Paul, looking into +the man's face. + +"Our prince, Excellency! He is not our prince. His forefathers seized +this land; that is all." + +"Ah! Who has been telling you that?" + +"No one," grumbled the man. "We know it; that is all." + +"But you were his father's serfs, before the freedom. Let me see your +tongue. Yes; you have been drinking--all the winter. Ah! is not that so, +little father? Your parents were serfs before the freedom." + +"Freedom!" growled the man. "A pretty freedom! We were better off +before." + +"Yes; but the world interfered with serfdom, because it got its +necessary touch of sentiment. There is no sentiment in starvation." + +The man did not understand. He grunted acquiescence nevertheless. The +true son of the people is always ready to grunt acquiescence to all that +sounds like abuse. + +"And what is this prince like? Have you seen him?" went on Paul. + +"No; I have not seen him. If I saw him I would kick his head to pieces." + +"Ah, just open your mouth a little wider. Yes; you have a nasty throat +there. You have had diphtheria. So you would kick his head to pieces. +Why?" + +"He is a tchinovnik--a government spy. He lives on the taxes. But it +will not be for long. There is a time coming--" + +"Ah! What sort of a time? Now, you must take this to the starosta. He +will give you a bottle. It is not to drink. It is to wash your throat +with. Remember that, and do not give it to your wife by way of a tonic +as you did last time. So there are changes coming, are there?" + +"There is a change coming for the prince--for all the princes," replied +the man in the usual taproom jargon. "For the Emperor too. The poor man +has had enough of it. God made the world for the poor man as well as for +the rich. Riches should be equally divided. They are going to be. The +country is going to be governed by a Mir. There will be no taxes. The +Mir makes no taxes. It is the tchinovniks who make the taxes and live on +them." + +"Ah, you are very eloquent, little father. If you talk like this in the +kabak no wonder you have a bad throat. There, I can do no more for you. +You must wash more and drink less. You might try a little work perhaps; +it stimulates the appetite. And with a throat like that I should not +talk so much if I were you. Next!" + +The next comer was afflicted with a wound that would not heal--a common +trouble in cold countries. + +While attending to this sickening sore Paul continued his conversation +with the last patient. + +"You must tell me," he said, "when these changes are about to come. I +should like to be there to see. It will be interesting." + +The man laughed mysteriously. + +"So the government is to be by a Mir, is it?" went on Paul. + +"Yes; the poor man is to have a say in it." + +"That will be interesting. But at the Mir every one talks at once and no +one listens; is it not so?" + +The man made no reply. + +"Is the change coming soon?" asked Paul coolly. + +But there was no reply. Some one had seized the loquacious orator of the +kabak, and he was at that moment being quietly hustled out of the room. + +After this there was a sullen silence, which Paul could not charm away, +charm he never so wisely. + +When his patients had at last ebbed away he lighted a cigarette and +walked thoughtfully back to the castle. There was danger in the air, and +this was one of those men upon whom danger acts as a pleasant stimulant. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +THE NET IS DRAWN + +During the days following Paul's visit to the village the ladies did not +see much male society. Paul and Steinmetz usually left the castle +immediately after breakfast and did not return till nightfall. + +"Is there any thing wrong?" Maggie asked Steinmetz on the evening of the +second day. + +Steinmetz had just come into the vast drawing-room dressed for +dinner--stout, placid, and very clean-looking. They were alone in the +room. + +"Nothing, my dear young lady--yet," he answered, coming forward and +rubbing his broad palms slowly together. + +Maggie was reading an English newspaper. She turned its pages without +pausing to notice the black and sticky obliterations effected by the +postal authorities before delivery. It was no new thing to her now to +come upon the press censor's handiwork in the columns of such +periodicals and newspapers as Paul received from England. + +"Because," she said, "if there is you need not be afraid of telling me." + +"To have that fear would be to offer you an insult," replied Steinmetz. +"Paul and I are investigating matters, that is all. The plain truth, my +dear young lady, is that we do not know ourselves what is in the wind. +We only know there is something. You are a horsewoman--you know the +feeling of a restive horse. One knows that he is only waiting for an +excuse to shy or to kick or to rear. One feels it thrilling in him. Paul +and I have that feeling in regard to the peasants. We are going the +round of the outlying villages, steadily and carefully. We are seeking +for the fly on the horse's body--you understand?" + +"Yes, I understand." + +She gave a little nod. She had not lost color, but there was an anxious +look in her eyes. + +"Some people would have sent to Tver for the soldiers," Steinmetz went +on. "But Paul is not that sort of man. He will not do it yet. You +remember our conversation at the Charity Ball in London?" + +"Yes." + +"I did not want you to come then. I am sorry you have come now." + +Maggie laid aside the newspaper with a little laugh. + +"But, Herr Steinmetz," she said, "I am not afraid. Please remember that. +I have absolute faith in you--and in Paul." + +Steinmetz accepted this statement with his grave smile. + +"There is only one thing I would recommend," he said, "and that is a +perfect discretion. Speak of this to no one, especially to no servants. +You remember your own mutiny in India. Gott! what wonderful people you +English are--men and women alike! You remember how the ladies kept up +and brazened it out before the servants. You must do the same. I think I +hear the rustle of the princess's dress. Yes! And there is no news in +the papers, you say?" + +"None," replied Maggie. + +It may not have been entirely by chance that Claude de Chauxville drove +over to Osterno to pay his respects the next day, and expressed himself +desolated at hearing that the prince had gone out with Herr Steinmetz in +a sleigh to a distant corner of the estate. + +"My horses must rest," said the Frenchman, calmly taking off his fur +gloves. "Perhaps the princess will see me." + +A few minutes later he was shown into the morning-room. + +"Did I see Mlle. Delafield on snow-shoes in the forest as I came along?" +De Chauxville asked the servant in perfect Russian before the man left +the room. + +"Doubtless, Excellency. She went out on her snow-shoes half an hour +ago." + +"That is all right," said the Frenchman to himself when the door was +closed. + +He went to the fire and warmed his slim white fingers. There was an evil +smile lurking beneath his mustache. + +When Etta opened the door a minute later he bowed low, without speaking. +There was a suggestion of triumph in his attitude. + +"Well?" said the princess, without acknowledging his salutation. + +De Chauxville raised his eyebrows with the resigned surprise of a man to +whom no feminine humor is new. He brought forward a chair. + +"Will you sit?" he said, with exaggerated courtesy. "I have much to say +to you. Besides, we have all the time. Your husband and his German +friend are miles away. I passed Miss Delafield in the forest. She is not +quite at home on her snow-shoes yet. She cannot be back for at least +half an hour." + +Etta bit her lip as she looked at the chair. She sat slowly down and +drew in the folds of her rich dress. + +"I have the good fortune to find you alone." + +"So you have informed me," she replied coldly. + +De Chauxville leaned against the mantel-piece and looked down at her +thoughtfully. + +"At the bear-hunt the other day," he said, "I had the misfortune +to--well, to fall out with the prince. We were not quite at one on a +question of etiquette. He thought that I ought to have fired. I did not +fire; I was not ready. It appears that the prince considered himself to +be in danger. He was nervous--flurried." + +"You are not always artistic in your untruths," interrupted Etta. "I +know nothing of the incident to which you refer, but in lying you should +always endeavor to be consistent. I am sure Paul was not nervous--or +flurried." + +De Chauxville smiled imperturbably. His end was gained. Etta obviously +knew nothing of his attempt to murder Paul at the bear-hunt. + +"It was nothing," he went on; "we did not come to words. But we have +never been much in sympathy; the coldness is intensified, that is all. +So I took the opportunity of calling when I knew he was away." + +"How did you know he was away?" + +"Ah, madame, I know more than I am credited with." + +Etta gave a little laugh and shrugged her shoulders. + +"You do not care for Osterno?" suggested De Chauxville. + +"I hate it!" + +"Precisely. And I am here to help you to get away from Russia once for +all. Ah! you may shake your head. Some day, perhaps, I shall succeed in +convincing you that I have only your interests at heart. I am here, +princess, to make a little arrangement with you--a final arrangement, I +hope." + +He paused, looking at her with a sudden gleam in his eyes. + +"Not the last of all," he added in a different tone. "That will make you +my wife." + +Etta allowed this statement to pass unchallenged. Her courage and energy +were not exhausted. She was learning to nurse her forces. + +"Your husband," went on De Chauxville, after he had sufficiently enjoyed +the savor of his own words, "is a brave man. To frighten him it is +necessary to resort to strong measures. The last and the strongest +measure in the diplomat's scale is the People. The People, madame, will +take no denial. It is a game I have played before--a dangerous game, but +I am not afraid." + +"You need not trouble to be theatrical with me," put in Etta scornfully. +She was sitting with a patch of color in either cheek. At times this man +had the power of moving her, and she was afraid of allowing him to +exercise it. She knew her own weakness--her inordinate vanity; for +vanity is the weakness of strong women. She was ever open to flattery, +and Claude de Chauxville flattered her in every word he spoke; for by +act and speech he made it manifest that she was the motive power of his +existence. + +"A man who plays for a high stake," went on the Frenchman, in a quieter +voice, "must be content to throw his all on the table time after time. A +week to-night--Thursday, the 5th of April--I will throw down my all on +the turn of a card. For the People are like that. It is rouge or +noir--one never knows. We only know that there is no third color, no +compromise." + +Etta was listening now with ill-disguised interest. At last he had given +her something definite--a date. + +"On Thursday," he went on, "the peasants will make a demonstration. You +know as well as I do--as well as Prince Pavlo does, despite his +imperturbable face--that the whole country is a volcano which may break +forth at any moment. But the control is strong, and therefore there is +never a large eruption--a grumble here, a gleam of fire there, a sullen +heat everywhere! But it is held in check by the impossibility of +communication. It seems strange, but Russia stands because she has no +penny postage. The great crash will come, not by force of arms, but by +ways of peace. The signal will be a postal system, the standard of the +revolution will be a postage-stamp. All over this country there are +millions waiting and burning to rise up and crush despotism, but they +are held in check by the simple fact that they are far apart and they +cannot write to each other. When, at last, they are brought together, +there will be no fight at all, because they will overwhelm their +enemies. That time, madame, has not come yet. We are only at the stage +of tentative underground rumblings. But a little eruption is enough to +wipe out one man if he be standing on the spot." + +"Go on," said Etta quietly--too quietly, De Chauxville might have +thought, had he been calmer. + +"I want you," he went on, "to assist me. We shall be ready on Thursday. +I shall not appear in the matter at all; I have strong colleagues at my +back. Starvation and misery, properly handled, are strong incentives." + +"And how do you propose to handle them?" asked Etta in the same quiet +voice. + +"The peasants will make a demonstration. The rest we must leave +to--well, to the course of fortune. I have no doubt that our astute +friend Karl Steinmetz will manage to hold them in check. But whatever +the end of the demonstration, the outcome will be the impossibility of a +longer residence in this country for the Prince Pavlo Alexis. A regiment +of soldiers could hardly make it possible." + +"I do not understand," said Etta, "what you describe as a +demonstration--is it a rising?" + +De Chauxville nodded, with a grin. + +"In force, to take what they want by force?" asked the princess. + +De Chauxville spread out his hands in his graceful Gallic way. + +"That depends." + +"And what do you wish me to do?" asked Etta, with the same concentrated +quiet. + +"In the first place, to believe that no harm will come to you, either +directly or indirectly. They would not dare to touch the prince; they +will content themselves with breaking a few windows." + +"What do you want me to do?" repeated Etta. + +De Chauxville paused. + +"Merely," he answered lightly, "to leave open a door--a side door. I +understand that there is a door in the old portion of the castle leading +up by a flight of stairs to the smoking-room, and thence to the new part +of the building." + +Etta did not answer. De Chauxville glanced at his watch and walked to +the window, where he stood looking out. He was too refined a person to +whistle, but his attitude was suggestive of that mode of killing time. + +"This door I wish you to unbar yourself before dinner on Thursday +evening," he said, turning round and slowly coming toward her. + +"And I refuse to do it," said Etta. + +"Ah!" + +Etta sprung to her feet and faced him--a beautiful woman, a very queen +of anger. Her blazing eyes were on a level with his. + +"Yes," she cried, with clenched fists, standing her full height till she +seemed to look down into his mean, fox-like face. "Yes; I refuse to +betray my husband--" + +"Stop! He is not your husband!" + +Slowly the anger faded out of her eyes; her clenched fists relaxed. Her +fingers were scraping nervously at the silk of her dress, like the +fingers of a child seeking support. She seemed to lose several inches of +her majestic stature. + +"What do you mean?" she whispered. "What do you mean?" + +"Sydney Bamborough is your husband," said the Frenchman, without taking +his dull eyes from her face. + +"He is dead!" she hissed. + +"Prove it!" + +He walked past her and leaned against the mantelpiece in the pose of +easy familiarity which he had maintained during the first portion of +their interview. + +"Prove it, madame!" he said again. + +"He died at Tver," she said; but there was no conviction in her voice. +With her title and position to hold to, she could face the world. +Without these, what was she? + +"A local newspaper reports that the body of a man was discovered on the +plains of Tver and duly buried in the pauper cemetery," said De +Chauxville indifferently. "Your husband--Sydney Bamborough, I mean--was, +for reasons which need not be gone into here, in the neighborhood of +Tver at the time. A police officer, who has since been transferred to +Odessa, was of the opinion that the dead man was a foreigner. There are +about twelve thousand foreigners in Tver--operatives in the +manufactories. Your husband--Sydney Bamborough, bien entendu--left Tver +to proceed eastward and cross Siberia to China in order to avoid the +emissaries of the Charity League, who were looking out for him at the +western frontier. He will be due at one of the treaty ports in China in +about a month. Upon the supposition that the body discovered on the +plains of Tver was that of your husband, you took the opportunity of +becoming a princess. It was enterprising. I admire your spirit. But it +was dangerous. I, madame, can suppress Sydney Bamborough when he turns +up. I have two arrows in my quiver for him; one is the Charity League, +the other the Russian Government, who want him. Your husband--I beg your +pardon, the prince--would perhaps take a different view of the case. It +is a pretty story. I will tell it to him unless I have your implicit +obedience." + +Etta stood dry-lipped before him. She tried to speak, but no words came +from her lips. + +De Chauxville looked at her with a quiet smile of triumph, and she knew +that he loved her. There is no defining love, nor telling when it merges +into hatred. + +"Thursday evening, before dinner," said De Chauxville. + +And he left her standing on the hearth-rug, her lips moving and framing +no words. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +AN APPEAL + +"Have you spoken to the princess?" asked Steinmetz, without taking the +cigar from his lips. + +They were driving home through the forest that surrounded Osterno as the +sea surrounds an island. They were alone in the sleigh. That which they +had been doing had required no servant. Paul was driving, and +consequently the three horses were going as hard as they could. The snow +flew past their faces like the foam over the gunwale of a boat that is +thrashing into a ten-knot breeze. Yet it was not all snow. There were +flecks of foam from the horses' mouths mingled with it. + +"Yes," answered Paul. His face was set and hard, his eyes stern. This +trouble with the peasants was affecting him more keenly than he +suspected. It was changing the man's face--drawing lines about his lips, +streaking his forehead with the marks of care. His position can hardly +be realized by an Englishman unless it be compared to that of the +captain of a great sinking ship full of human souls who have been placed +under his care. + +"And what did she say?" asked Steinmetz. + +"That she would not leave unless we all went with her." + +Steinmetz drew the furs closer up round him. + +"Yes," he said, glancing at his companion's face, and seeing little but +the eyes, by reason of the sable collar of his coat, which met the fur +of his cap; "yes, and why not?" + +"I cannot leave them," answered Paul. "I cannot go away now that there +is trouble among them. What it is, goodness only knows! They would never +have got like this by themselves. Somebody has been at them, and I don't +think it is the Nihilists. It is worse than that. Some devil has been +stirring them up, and they know no better. He is still at it. They are +getting worse day by day, and I cannot catch him. If I do, by God! +Steinmetz, I'll twist his neck." + +Steinmetz smiled grimly. + +"Yes," he answered, "you are capable of it. For me, I am getting tired +of the moujik. He is an inveterate, incurable fool. If he is going to be +a dangerous fool as well, I should almost be inclined to let him go to +the devil in his own way." + +"I dare say; but you are not in my position." + +"No; that is true, Pavlo. They were not my father's serfs. Generations +of my ancestors have not saved generations of their ancestors from +starvation. My fathers before me have not toiled and slaved and +legislated for them. I have not learnt medicine that I might doctor +them. I have not risked my health and life in their sties, where pigs +would refuse to live. I have not given my whole heart and soul to their +welfare, to receive no thanks, but only hatred. No, it is different for +me. I owe them nothing, mein lieber; that is the difference." + +"If I agree to make a bolt for Petersburg to-morrow will you come?" +retorted Paul. + +"No," answered the stout man. + +"I thought not. Your cynicism is only a matter of words, Steinmetz, and +not of deeds. There is no question of either of us leaving Osterno. We +must stay and fight it right out here." + +"That is so," answered Steinmetz, with the Teutonic stolidity of manner +which sometimes came over him. "But the ladies--what of them?" + +Paul did not answer. They were passing over the rise of a heavy drift. +It was necessary to keep the horses up to their work, to prevent the +runners of the sleigh sinking into the snow. With voice and whip Paul +encouraged them. He was kind to animals, but never spared them--a strong +man, who gave freely of his strength and expected an equal generosity. + +"This is no place for Miss Delafield," added Steinmetz, looking straight +in front of him. + +"I know that!" answered Paul sharply. "I wish to God she was not here!" +he added in a lower tone, and the words were lost beneath the frozen +mustache. + +Steinmetz made no answer. They drove on through the gathering gloom. The +sky was of a yellow gray, and the earth reflected the dismal hue of it. +Presently it began to snow, driving in a fine haze from the north. The +two men lapsed into silence. Steinmetz, buried in his furs like a great, +cumbrous bear, appeared to be half asleep. They had had a long and +wearisome day. The horses had covered their forty miles and more from +village to village, where the two men had only gathered discouragement +and foreboding. Some of the starostas were sullen; others openly scared. +None of them were glad to see Steinmetz. Paul had never dared to betray +his identity. With the gendarmes--the tchinovniks--they had not deemed +it wise to hold communication. + +"Stop!" cried Steinmetz suddenly, and Paul pulled the horses on to their +haunches. + +"I thought you were asleep," he said. + +There was no one in sight. They were driving along the new road now, the +high-way Paul had constructed from Osterno to Tver. The road itself was, +of course, indistinguishable, but the telegraph posts marked its course. + +Steinmetz tumbled heavily out of his furs and went toward the nearest +telegraph post. + +"Where is the wire?" he shouted. + +Paul followed him in the sleigh. Together they peered up into the +darkness and the falling snow. The posts were there, but the wire was +gone. A whole length of it had been removed. They were cut off from +civilization by one hundred and forty miles of untrodden snow. + +Steinmetz clambered back into the sleigh and drew up the fur apron. He +gave a strange little laugh that had a ring of boyish excitement in it. +This man had not always been stout and placid. He too had had his day, +and those who knew him said that it had been a stirring one. + +"That settles one question," he said. + +"Which question?" asked Paul. + +He was driving as hard as the horses could lay hoof to ground, taken +with a sudden misgiving and a great desire to reach Osterno before dark. + +"The question of the ladies," replied Steinmetz. "It is too late for +them to go now." + +The village, nestling beneath the grim protection of Osterno, was +deserted and forlorn. All the doors were closed, the meagre curtains +drawn. It was very cold. There was a sense of relief in this great +frost; for when Nature puts forth her strength men are usually cowed +thereby. + +At the castle all seemed to be in order. The groom, in his great +sheepskin coat, was waiting in the doorway. The servants threw open the +vast doors, and stood respectfully in the warm, brilliantly lighted hall +while their master passed in. + +"Where is the princess?" Steinmetz asked his valet, while he was +removing the evidences of a long day in the open air. + +"In her drawing-room, Excellency." + +"Then go and ask her if she will give me a cup of tea in a few minutes." + +And the man, a timorous German, went. + +A few minutes later Steinmetz, presenting himself at the door of the +little drawing-room attached to Etta's suite of rooms, found the +princess in a matchless tea-gown waiting beside a table laden with +silver tea appliances. A dainty samovar, a tiny tea-pot, a spirit-lamp +and the rest, all in the wonderful silver-work of the Slavonski Bazaar +in Moscow. + +"You see," she said with a smile, for she always smiled on men, "I have +obeyed your orders." + +Steinmetz bowed gravely. He was one of the few men who could see that +smile and be strong. He closed the door carefully behind him. No mention +was made of the fact that his message had implied, and she had +understood, that he wished to see her alone. Etta was rather pale. There +was an anxious look in her eyes--behind the smile, as it were. She was +afraid of this man. She looked at the flame of the samovar, busying +herself among the tea-things with pretty curving fingers and rustling +sleeves. But the tea was never made. + +"I begin to think," said Steinmetz, coming to the point in his bluff +way, "that you are a sort of beautiful Jonah, a graceful stormy petrel, +a fair Wandering Jewess. There is always trouble where you go." + +She glanced at his broad face, and read nothing there. + +"Go on," she said. "What have I been doing now? How you do hate me, Herr +Steinmetz!" + +"Perhaps it is safer than loving you," he answered, with his grim humor. + +"I suppose," she said, with a quaint little air of resignation which was +very disarming, "that you have come here to scold me--you do not want +any tea?" + +"No; I do not want any tea." + +She turned the wick of the spirit-lamp, and the peaceful music of the +samovar was still. In her clever eyes there was a little air of sidelong +indecision. She could not make up her mind how to take him. Her chiefest +method was so old as to be biblical. Yet she could not take him with her +eyelids. She had tried. + +"You are horribly grave," she said. + +"The situation," he replied, "is horribly grave." + +Etta looked up at him as he stood before her, and the lamp-light, +falling on the perfect oval of her face, showed it to be white and +drawn. + +"Princess," said the man, "there are in the lives of some of us times +when we cease to be men and women, and become mere human beings. There +are times, I mean, when the thousand influences of sex die at one blow +of fate. This is such a time. We must forget that you are a beautiful +woman; I verily believe that there is none more beautiful in the world. +I once knew one whom I admired more, but that was not because she was +more beautiful. That, however, is my own story, and this"--he paused and +looked round the little room, furnished, decorated for her +comfort--"this is your story. We must forget that I am a man, and +therefore subject to the influence of your beauty." + +She sat looking up into his strong, grave face, and during all that +followed she never moved. + +"I know you," he said, "to be courageous, and must ask you to believe +that I exaggerate nothing in what I am about to tell you. I tell it to +you instead of leaving Paul to do so because I know his complete +fearlessness, and his blind faith in a people who are unworthy of it. He +does not realize the gravity of the situation. They are his own people. +A sailor never believes that his own ship is unseaworthy." + +"Go on!" said Etta, for he had paused. + +"This country," he continued, "is unsettled. The people of the estate +are on the brink of a revolt. You know what the Russian peasant is. It +will be no Parisian emeute, half noise, half laughter. We cannot hope to +hold this old place against them. We cannot get away from it. We cannot +send for help because we have no one to send. Princess, this is no time +for half-confidences. I know--for I know these people better even than +Paul knows them--I am convinced that this is not the outcome of their +own brains. They are being urged on by some one. There is some one at +their backs. This is no revolt of the peasants, organized by the +peasants. Princess, you must tell me all you know!" + +"I--I," she stammered, "I know nothing!" + +And then suddenly she burst into tears, and buried her face in a tiny, +useless handkerchief. It was so unlike her and so sudden that Steinmetz +was startled. + +He laid his great hand soothingly on her shoulder. + +"I know," he said quietly, "I know more than you think. I am no saint, +princess, myself. I too have had my difficulties. I have had my +temptations, and I have not always resisted. God knows it is difficult +for men to do always the right thing. It is a thousand times more +difficult for women. When we spoke together in Petersburg, and I offered +you my poor friendship, I was not acting in the dark. I knew as much +then as I do now. Princess, I knew about the Charity League papers. I +knew more than any except Stepan Lanovitch, and it was he who told me." + +He was stroking her shoulder with the soothing movements that one uses +toward a child in distress. His great hand, broad and thick, had a +certain sense of quiet comfort and strength in it. Etta ceased sobbing, +and sat with bowed head, looking through her tears into the gay wood +fire. It is probable that she failed to realize the great charity of the +man who was speaking to her. For the capacity for evil merges at some +point or other into incapability for comprehending good. + +"Is that all he knows?" she was wondering. + +The suggestion that Sydney Bamborough was not dead had risen up to +eclipse all other fear in her mind. In some part her thought reached +him. + +"I know so much," he said, "that it is safest to tell me more. I offered +you my friendship because I think that no woman could carry through your +difficulties unaided. Princess, the admiration of Claude de Chauxville +may be pleasant, but I venture to think that my friendship is +essential." + +Etta raised her head a little. She was within an ace of handing over to +Karl Steinmetz the rod of power held over her by the Frenchman. There +was something in Steinmetz that appealed to her and softened her, +something that reached a tender part of her heart through the coating of +vanity, through the hardness of worldly experience. + +"I have known De Chauxville twenty-five years," he went on, and Etta +deferred her confession. "We have never been good friends, I admit. I am +no saint, princess, but De Chauxville is a villain. Some day you may +discover, when it is too late, that it would have been for Paul's +happiness, for your happiness, for every one's good to have nothing more +to do with Claude de Chauxville, I want to save you that discovery. Will +you act upon my advice? Will you make a stand now? Will you come to me +and tell me all that De Chauxville knows about you that he could ever +use against you? Will you give yourself into my hands--give me your +battle to fight? You cannot do it alone. Only believe in my friendship, +princess. That is all I ask." + +Etta shook her head. + +"I think not," she answered, in a voice too light, too superficial, too +hopelessly shallow for the depth of the moment. She was thinking only of +Sydney Bamborough, and of that dread secret. She fought with what arms +she wielded best--the lightest, the quickest, the most baffling. + +"As you will," said Steinmetz. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM + +A Russian village kabak, with a smoking lamp, of which the chimney is +broken. The greasy curtains drawn across the small windows exclude the +faintest possibility of a draught. The moujik does not like a draught; +in fact, he hates the fresh air of heaven. Air that has been breathed +three or four times over is the air for him; it is warmer. The +atmosphere of this particular inn is not unlike that of every other inn +in the White Empire, inasmuch as it is heavily seasoned with the scent +of cabbage soup. The odor of this nourishing compound is only exceeded +in unpleasantness by the taste of the same. Added to this warm smell +there is the smoke of a score of the very cheapest cigarettes. The +Russian peasant smokes his cigarette now. It is the first step, and it +does not cost him much. It is the dawn of progress--the thin end of the +wedge which will broaden out into anarchy. The poor man who smokes a +cigarette is sure to pass on to socialistic opinions and troubles in the +market-place. Witness the cigarette-smoking countries. Moreover, this +same poor man is not a pleasant companion. He smokes a poor cigarette. + +There is also the smell of vodka, which bottled curse is standing in +tumblers all down the long table. The news has spread in Osterno that +vodka is to be had for the asking at the kabak, where there is a +meeting. Needless to say, the meeting is a large one. Foolishness and +thirst are often found in the same head--a cranium which, by the way, is +exceptionally liable to be turned by knowledge or drink. + +If the drink at the kabak of Osterno was dangerous, the knowledge was no +less so. + +"I tell you, little fathers," an orator was shouting, "that the day of +the capitalist has gone. The rich men--the princes, the nobles, the +great merchants, the monopolists, the tchinovniks--tremble. They know +that the poor man is awakening at last from his long lethargy. What have +we done in Germany? What have we done in America? What have we done in +England and France?" + +Whereupon he banged an unwashed fist upon the table with such emphasis +that more than one of the audience clutched his glass of vodka in alarm, +lest a drop of the precious liquor should be wasted. + +No one seemed to know what had been done in Germany, in America, in +England, or in France. The people's orator is a man of many questions +and much fist-banging. The moujiks of Osterno gazed at him beneath their +shaggy brows. Half of them did not understand him. They were as yet +uneducated to a comprehension of the street orator's periods. A few of +the more intelligent waited for him to answer his own questions, which +he failed to do. A vague and ominous question carries as much weight +with some people as a statement, and has the signal advantage of being +less incriminating. + +The speaker--a neckless, broad-shouldered ruffian of the type known in +England as "unemployed"--looked round with triumphant head well thrown +back. From his attitude it was obvious that he had been the salvation of +the countries named, and had now come to Russia to do the same for her. +He spoke with the throaty accent of the Pole. It was quite evident that +his speech was a written one--probably a printed harangue issued to him +and his compeers for circulation throughout the country. He delivered +many of the longer words with a certain unctuous roll of the tongue, and +an emphasis indicating the fact that he did not know their meaning. + +"From afar," he went on, "we have long been watching you. We have noted +your difficulties and your hardships, your sickness, your starvation. +'These men of Tver,' we have said, 'are brave and true and steadfast. We +will tell them of liberty.' So I have come to you, and I am glad to see +you. Alexander Alexandrovitch, pass the bottle down the table. You see, +little fathers, I have not come begging for your money. No; keep your +kopecks in your pocket. We do not want your money. We are no +tchinovniks. We prove it by giving you vodka to keep your throats wet +and your ears open. Fill up your glasses--fill up your glasses!" + +The little fathers of Osterno understood this part of the harangue +perfectly, and acted upon it. + +The orator scratched his head reflectively. There was a certain +business-like mouthing of his periods, showing that he had learnt all +this by heart. He did not press all his points home in the manner of one +speaking from his own brain. + +"I see before me," he went on, without an overplus of sequence, "men +worthy to take their place among the rulers of the world--eh--er--rulers +of the world, little fathers." + +He paused and drank half a tumbler of vodka. His last statement was so +obviously inapplicable--what he actually did see was so very far removed +from what he said he saw--that he decided to relinquish the point. + +"I drink," he cried, "to Liberty and Equality!" + +Some of the little fathers also drank, to assuage an hereditary thirst. + +"And now," continued the orator, "let us get to business. I think we +understand each other?" + +He looked round with an engaging smile upon faces brutal enough to suit +his purpose, but quite devoid of intelligence. There was not much +understanding there. + +"The poor man has one only way of making himself felt--force. We have +worked for generations, we have toiled in silence, and we have gathered +strength. The time has now come for us to put forth our strength. The +time has gone by for merely asking for what we want. We asked, and they +heard us not. We will now go and take!" + +A few who had heard this speech or something like it before shouted +their applause at this moment. Before the noise had subsided the door +opened, and two or three men pushed their way into the already +overcrowded room. + +"Come in, come in!" cried the orator; "the more the better. You are all +welcome. All we require, then, little fathers, is organization. There +are nine hundred souls in Osterno; are you going to bow down before one +man? All men are equal--moujik and barin, krestyanin and prince. Why do +you not go up to the castle that frowns down upon the village, and tell +the man there that you are starving, that he must feed you, that you are +not going to work from dawn till eve while he sits on his velvet couch +and smokes his gold-tipped cigarettes. Why do you not go and tell him +that you are not going to starve and die while he eats caviare and +peaches from gold plates and dishes?" + +A resounding bang of the fist finished this fine oration, and again the +questions were unanswered. + +"They are all the same, these aristocrats," the man thundered on. "Your +prince is as the others, I make no doubt. Indeed, I know; for I have +been told by our good friend Abramitch here. A clever man our friend +Abramitch, and when you get your liberty--when you get your Mir--you +must keep him in mind. Your prince, then--this Howard Alexis--treats you +like the dirt beneath his feet. Is it not so? He will not listen to your +cry of hunger. He will not give you a few crumbs of food from his gold +dishes. He will not give you a few kopecks of the millions of rubles +that he possesses. And where did he get those rubles? Ah! where did he +get them--eh? Tell me that!" + +Again the interrogative unwashed fist. As the orator's wild and frenzied +eye travelled round the room it lighted on a form near the door--a man +standing a head and shoulders above any one in the room, a man enveloped +in an old brown coat, with a woollen shawl round his throat, hiding half +his face. + +"Who is that?" cried the orator, with an unsteady, pointing finger. "He +is no moujik. Is that a tchinovnik, little fathers? Has he come here to +our meeting to spy upon us?" + +"You may ask them who I am," replied the giant. "They know; they will +tell you. It is not the first time that I tell them they are fools. I +tell them again now. They are fools and worse to listen to such windbags +as you." + +"Who is it?" cried the paid agitator. "Who is this man?" + +His eyes were red with anger and with vodka; his voice was unsteady. His +outstretched hand shook. + +"It is the Moscow doctor," said a man beside him--"the Moscow doctor." + +"Then I say he is no doctor!" shouted the orator. "He is a spy--a +Government spy, a tchinovnik! He has heard all we have said. He has seen +you all. Brothers, that man must not leave this room alive. If he does, +you are lost men!" + +Some few of the more violent spirits rose and pressed tumultuously +toward the door. The agitator shouted and screamed, urging them on, +taking good care to remain in the safe background himself. Every man in +the room rose to his feet. They were full of vodka and fury and +ignorance. Spirit and tall talk, taken on an empty stomach, are +dangerous stimulants. + +Paul stood with his back to the door and never moved. + +"Sit down, fools!" he cried. "Sit down! Listen to me. You dare not touch +me; you know that." + +It seemed that he was right, for they stopped with staring, stupid eyes +and idle hands. + +"Will you listen to me, whom you have known for years, or to this talker +from the town? Choose now. I am tired of you. I have been patient with +you for years. You are sheep; are you fools also, to be dazzled by the +words of an idle talker who promises all and gives nothing?" + +There was a sullen silence. Paul had lost his power over them, and he +knew it. He was quite cool and watchful. He knew that he was in danger. +These men were wild and ignorant. They were mad with drink and the brave +words of the agitator. + +"Choose now!" he shouted, feeling for the handle of the door behind his +back. + +They made no sign, but watched the faces of their leaders. + +"If I go now," said Paul, "I never come again!" + +He opened the door. The men whom he had nursed and clothed and fed, +whose lives he had saved again and again, stood sullen and silent. + +Paul passed slowly out and closed the door behind him. Without it was +dark and still. There would be a moon presently, and in the meantime it +was preparing to freeze harder than ever. + +Paul walked slowly up the village street, while two men emerged +separately from the darkness of by-lanes and followed him. He did not +heed them. He was not aware that the thermometer stood somewhere below +zero. He did not even trouble to draw on his fur gloves. + +He felt like a man whose own dogs have turned against him. The place +that these peasants had occupied in his heart had been precisely that +vacancy which is filled by dogs and horses in the hearts of many men. +There was in his feeling for them that knowledge of a complete +dependence by which young children draw and hold a mother's love. + +Paul Howard Alexis was not a man to analyze his thoughts. Your strong +man is usually ignorant of the existence of his own feelings. He is +never conscious of them. Paul walked slowly through the village of +Osterno, and realized, in his uncompromising honesty, that of the nine +hundred men who lived therein there were not three upon whom he could +rely. He had upheld his peasants for years against the cynic truths of +Karl Steinmetz. He had resolutely refused to admit even to himself that +they were as devoid of gratitude as they were of wisdom. And this was +the end of all! + +One of the men following him hurried on and caught him up. + +"Excellency," he gasped, breathless with his haste, "you must not come +here alone any longer. I am afraid of them--I have no control." + +Paul paused, and suited his pace to the shorter legs of his companion. + +"Starosta!" he said. "Is that you?" + +"Yes, Excellency. I saw you go into the kabak, so I waited outside and +watched. I did not dare to go inside. They will not allow me there. They +are afraid that I should give information." + +"How long have these meetings been going on?" + +"The last three nights, Excellency, in Osterno; but it is the same all +over the estate." + +"Only on the estate?" + +"Yes, Excellency." + +"Are you sure of that?" + +"Yes, Excellency." + +Paul walked on in silence for some paces. The third man followed them +without catching them up. + +"I do not understand, Excellency," said the starosta anxiously. "It is +not the Nihilists." + +"No; it is not the Nihilists." + +"And they do not want money, Excellency; that seems strange." + +"Very!" admitted Paul ironically. + +"And they give vodka." + +This seemed to be the chief stumbling-block in the starosta's road to a +solution of the mystery. + +"Find out for me," said Paul, after a pause, "who this man is, where he +comes from, and how much he is paid to open his mouth. We will pay him +more to shut it. Find out as much as you can, and let me know +to-morrow." + +"I will try, Excellency; but I have little hope of succeeding. They +distrust me. They send the children to my shop for what they want, and +the little ones have evidently been told not to chatter. The moujiks +avoid me when they meet me. What can I do?" + +"You can show them that you are not afraid of them," answered Paul. +"That goes a long way with the moujik." + +They walked on together through the lane of cottages, where furtive +forms lurked in door-ways and behind curtains. And Paul had only one +word of advice to give, upon which he harped continually: "Be thou very +courageous--be thou very courageous." Nothing new, for so it was written +in the oldest book of all. The starosta was a timorous man, needing such +strong support as his master gave him from time to time. + +At the great gates of the park they paused, and Paul gave the mayor of +Osterno a few last words of advice. While they were standing there the +other man who had been following joined them. + +"Is that you, Steinmetz?" asked Paul, his hand thrust with suspicious +speed into his jacket pocket. + +"Yes." + +"What are you doing here?" + +"Watching you," answered Karl Steinmetz, in his mild way. "It is no +longer safe for either of us to go about alone. It was mere foolery your +going to that kabak." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +A TROIS + +Of all the rooms in the great castle Etta liked the morning-room best. +Persons of a troubled mind usually love to look upon a wide prospect. +The mind, no doubt, fears the unseen approach of detection or danger, +and transmits this dread to the eye, which likes to command a wide view +all around. + +The great drawing-room was only used after dinner. Until that time the +ladies spent the day either in their own boudoirs or in the morning-room +looking over the cliff. Here, while the cold weather lasted, Etta had +tea served, and thither the gentlemen usually repaired at the hour set +apart for the homely meal. They had come regularly the last few +evenings. Paul and Steinmetz had suddenly given up their long drives to +distant parts of the estate. + +Here the whole party was assembled on the Sunday afternoon following +Paul's visit to the village kabak, and to them came an unexpected guest. +The door was thrown open, and Claude de Chauxville, pale, but +self-possessed and quiet, came into the room. The perfect ease of his +manner bespoke a practised familiarity with the position difficult. His +last parting with Paul and Steinmetz had been, to say the least of it, +strained. Maggie, he knew, disliked and distrusted him. Etta hated and +feared him. + +He was in riding costume--a short fur jacket, fur gloves, a cap in his +hand, and a silver-mounted crop. A fine figure of a man--smart, well +turned out, well-groomed--a gentleman. + +"Prince," he said frankly, "I have come to throw myself upon your +generosity. Will you lend me a horse? I was riding in the forest when my +horse fell over a root and lamed himself. I found I was only three miles +from Osterno, so I came. My misfortune must be my excuse for +this--intrusion." + +Paul performed graciously enough that which charity and politeness +demanded of him. There are plenty of people who trade unscrupulously +upon these demands, but it is probable that they mostly have their +reward. Love and friendship are stronger than charity and politeness, +and those who trade upon the latter are rarely accorded the former. + +So Paul ignored the probability that De Chauxville had lamed his horse +on purpose, and offered him refreshment while his saddle was being +transferred to the back of a fresh mount. Farther than that he did not +go. He did not consider himself called upon to offer a night's +hospitality to the man who had attempted to murder him a week before. + +With engaging frankness De Chauxville accepted every thing. It is an art +soon acquired and soon abused. There is something honest in an +ungracious acceptance of favors. Steinmetz suggested that perhaps M. de +Chauxville had lunched sparsely, and the Frenchman admitted that such +was the case, but that he loved afternoon tea above all meals. + +"It is so innocent and simple--I know. I have the same feeling myself," +concurred Steinmetz courteously. + +"Do you ride about the country much alone?" asked Paul, while the +servants were setting before this uninvited guest a few more substantial +delicacies. + +"Ah, no, prince! This is my first attempt, and if it had not procured me +this pleasure I should say that it will be my last." + +"It is easy to lose yourself," said Paul; "besides"--and the two friends +watched the Frenchman's face closely--"besides, the country is disturbed +at present." + +De Chauxville was helping himself daintily to pate de foie gras. + +"Ah, indeed! Is that so?" he answered. "But they would not hurt me--a +stranger in the land." + +"And an orphan, too, I have no doubt," added Steinmetz, with a laugh. +"But would the moujik pause to enquire, my very dear De Chauxville?" + +"At all events, I should not pause to answer," replied the Frenchman, in +the same, light tone. "I should evacuate. Ah, mademoiselle," he went on, +addressing Maggie, "they have been attempting to frighten you, I +suspect, with their stories of disturbed peasantry. It is to keep up the +lurid local color. They must have their romance, these Russians." + +And so the ball was kept rolling. There was never any lack of +conversation when Steinmetz and De Chauxville were together, nor was the +talk without sub-flavor of acidity. At length the centre of attention +himself diverted that attention. He inaugurated an argument over the +best cross-country route from Osterno to Thors, which sent Steinmetz out +of the room for a map. During the absence of the watchful German he +admired the view from the window, and this strategetic movement enabled +him to say to Etta aside: + +"I must see you before I leave the house; it is absolutely necessary." + +Not long after the return of Steinmetz and the final decision respecting +the road to Thors, Etta left the room, and a few minutes later the +servant announced that the baron's horse was at the door. + +De Chauxville took his leave at once, with many assurances of lasting +gratitude. + +"Kindly," he added, "make my adieux to the princess; I will not trouble +her." + +Quite by accident he met Etta at the head of the state staircase, and +expressed such admiration for the castle that she opened the door of the +large drawing-room and took him to see that apartment. + +"What I arranged for Thursday is for the day after to-morrow--Tuesday," +said De Chauxville, as soon as they were alone. "We cannot keep them +back any longer. You understand--the side door to be opened at seven +o'clock. Ah! who is this?" + +They both turned. Steinmetz was standing behind them, but he could not +have heard De Chauxville's words. He closed the door carefully, and came +forward with his grim smile. + +"A nous trois!" he said, and the subsequent conversation was in the +language in which these three understood each other best. + +De Chauxville bit his lip and waited. It was a moment of the tensest +suspense. + +"A nous trois!" repeated Steinmetz. "De Chauxville, you love an epigram. +The man who overestimates the foolishness of others is himself the +biggest fool concerned. A lame horse--the prince's generosity--making +your adieux. Mon Dieu! you should know me better than that after all +these years. No, you need not look at the door. No one will interrupt +us. I have seen to that." + +His attitude and manner indicated a complete mastery of the situation, +but whether this assumption was justified by fact or was a mere trick it +was impossible to say. There was in the man something strong and good +and calm--a manner never acquired by one who has anything to conceal. +His dignity was perfect. One forgot his stoutness, his heavy breathing, +his ungainly size. He was essentially manly, and a presence to be +feared. The strength of his will made itself felt. + +He turned to the princess with the grave courtesy that always marked his +attitude toward her. + +"Madame," he said, "I fully recognize your cleverness in raising +yourself to the position you now occupy. But I would remind you that +that position carries with it certain obligations. It is hardly +dignified for a princess to engage herself in a vulgar love intrigue in +her own house." + +"It is not a vulgar love intrigue!" cried Etta, with blazing eyes. "I +will not allow you to say that! Where is your boasted friendship? Is +this a sample of it?" + +Karl Steinmetz bowed gravely, with outspread hands. + +"Madame, that friendship is at your service, now as always." + +De Chauxville gave a scornful little laugh. He was biting the end of his +mustache as he watched Etta's face. For a moment the woman stood--not +the first woman to stand thus--between two fears. Then she turned to +Steinmetz. The victory was his--the greatest he had ever torn from the +grasp of Claude de Chauxville. + +"You know," she said, "that this man has me in his power." + +"You alone. But not both of us together," answered Steinmetz. + +De Chauxville looked uneasy. He gave a careless little laugh. + +"My good Steinmetz, you allow your imagination to run away with you. You +interfere in what does not concern you." + +"My very dear De Chauxville, I think not. At all events, I am going to +continue to interfere." + +Etta looked from one to the other. She had at the first impulse gone +over to Steinmetz. She was now meditating drawing back. If De Chauxville +kept cool all might yet be well--the dread secret of the probability of +Sydney Bamborough being alive might still be withheld from Steinmetz. +For the moment it would appear that she was about to occupy the +ignominious position of the bone of contention. If these two men were +going to use her as a mere excuse to settle a lifelong quarrel of many +issues, it was probable that there would not be much left of her +character by the time that they had finished. + +She had to decide quickly. She decided to assume the role of peacemaker. + +"M. de Chauxville was on the point of going," she said. "Let him go." + +"M. de Chauxville is not going until I have finished with him, madame. +This may be the last time we meet. I hope it is." + +De Chauxville looked uneasy. His was a ready wit, and fear was the only +feeling that paralyzed it. Etta looked at him. Was his wit going to +desert him now when he most needed it? He had ridden boldly into the +lion's den. Such a proceeding requires a certain courage, but a higher +form of intrepidity is required to face the lion standing before the +exit. + +De Chauxville looked at Steinmetz with shifty eyes. He was very like the +mask of the lynx in the smoking-room, even to the self-conscious, +deprecatory smile on the countenance of the forest sneak. + +"Keep your temper," he said; "do not let us quarrel in the presence of a +lady." + +"No; we will keep the quarrel till afterward." + +Steinmetz turned to Etta. + +"Princess," he said, "will you now, in my presence, forbid this man to +come to this or any other house of yours? Will you forbid him to address +himself either by speech or letter to you again?" + +"You know I cannot do that," replied Etta. + +"Why not?" + +Etta made no answer. + +"Because," replied De Chauxville for her, "the princess is too wise to +make an enemy of me. In that respect she is wiser than you. She knows +that I could send you and your prince to Siberia." + +Steinmetz laughed. + +"Nonsense!" he said. "Princess," he went on, "if you think that the fact +of De Chauxville numbering among his friends a few obscure police spies +gives him the right to persecute you, you are mistaken. Our friend is +very clever, but he can do no harm with the little that he knows of the +Charity League." + +Etta remained silent. The silence made Steinmetz frown. + +"Princess," he said gravely, "you were indignant just now because I made +so bold as to put the most natural construction upon the circumstances +in which I found you. It was a prearranged meeting between De Chauxville +and yourself. If the meeting was not the outcome of an intrigue such as +I mentioned, nor the result of this man's hold over you on account of +the Charity League, what was it? I beg of you to answer." + +Etta made no reply. Instead, she raised her eyes and looked at De +Chauxville. + +"Without going into affairs which do not concern you," said the +Frenchman, answering for her, "I think you will recognize that the +secret of the Charity League was quite sufficient excuse for me to +request a few minutes alone with the princess." + +Of this Steinmetz took no notice. He was standing in front of Etta, +between De Chauxville and the door. His broad, deeply lined face was +flushed with the excitement of the moment. His great mournful eyes, +yellow and drawn with much reading and the hardships of a rigorous +climate, were fixed anxiously on her face. + +Etta was not looking at him. Her eyes were turned toward the window, but +they did not see with comprehension. She was stony and stubborn. + +"Princess," said Steinmetz, "answer me before it is too late. Has De +Chauxville any other hold over you?" + +Etta nodded, and the little action brought a sudden gleam to the +Frenchman's eyes. + +"If," said Steinmetz, looking from one to the other, "if you two have +been deceiving Paul I will have no mercy, I warn you of that." + +Etta turned on him. + +"Can you not believe me?" she cried. "I have practised no deception in +common with M. de Chauxville." + +"The Charity League is quite enough for you, my friend," put in the +Frenchman hurriedly. + +"You know no more of the Charity League than you did before--than the +whole world knew before--except this lady's share in the disposal of the +papers," said Steinmetz. + +"And this lady's share in the disposal of the papers will not be welcome +news to the prince," answered De Chauxville. + +"Welcome or unwelcome, he shall be told of it to-night." + +Etta looked round sharply, her lips apart and trembling. + +"By whom?" asked De Chauxville. + +"By me," replied Steinmetz. + +There was a momentary pause. De Chauxville and Etta exchanged a glance. +Etta felt that she was lost. This Frenchman was not one to spare either +man or woman from any motive of charity or chivalry. + +"Even if that is so," he said, "the princess is not relieved from the +embarrassment of her situation." + +"No?" + +"No, my astute friend. There is a little matter connected with Sydney +Bamborough which has come to my knowledge." + +Etta moved, but she said nothing. The sound of her breathing was +startlingly loud. + +"Ah! Sydney Bamborough," said Steinmetz slowly. "What about him?" + +"He is not dead; that is all." + +Karl Steinmetz passed his broad hand down over his face, covering his +mouth for a second. + +"But he died. He was found on the steppe, and buried at Tver." + +"So the story runs," said De Chauxville, with easy sarcasm. "But who +found him on the steppe? Who buried him at Tver?" + +"I did, my friend." + +The next second Steinmetz staggered back a step or two as Etta fell +heavily into his arms. But he never took his eyes off De Chauxville. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + + +A DEUX + +Steinmetz laid Etta on a sofa. She was already recovering consciousness. +He rang the bell twice, and all the while he kept his eye on De +Chauxville. A quick touch on Etta's wrist and breast showed that this +man knew something of women and of those short-lived fainting fits that +belong to strong emotions. + +The maid soon came. + +"The princess requires your attention," said Steinmetz, still watching +De Chauxville, who was looking at Etta and neglecting his opportunities. + +Steinmetz went up to him and took him by the arm. + +"Come with me," he said. + +The Frenchman could have taken advantage of the presence of the servant +to effect a retreat, but he did not dare to do so. It was essential that +he should obtain a few words with Etta. To effect this, he was ready +even to face an interview with Steinmetz. In his heart he was cursing +that liability to inconvenient fainting fits that make all women +unreliable in a moment of need. + +He preceded Steinmetz out of the room, forgetting even to resent the +large, warm grasp on his arm. They went through the long, dimly lit +passage to the old part of the castle, where Steinmetz had his rooms. + +"And now," said Steinmetz, when they were alone with closed doors, "and +now, De Chauxville, let us understand each other." + +De Chauxville shrugged his shoulders. He was not thinking of Steinmetz +yet. He was still thinking of Etta and how he could get speech with her. +With the assurance which had carried him through many a difficulty +before this, the Frenchman looked round him, taking in the details of +the room. They were in the apartment beyond the large smoking room--the +ante-room, as it were, to the little chamber where Paul kept his +medicine-chest, his disguise, all the compromising details of his work +among the peasants. The broad writing-table in the middle of the room +stood between the two men. + +"Do you imagine yourself in love with the princess?" asked Steinmetz +suddenly, with characteristic bluntness. + +"If you like," returned the other. + +"If I thought that it was that," said the German, looking at him +thoughtfully, "I would throw you out of the window. If it is any thing +else, I will only throw you down stairs." + +De Chauxville bit his thumb-nail anxiously. He frowned across the table +into Steinmetz's face. In all their intercourse he had never heard that +tone of voice; he had never seen quite that look on the heavy face. Was +Steinmetz aroused at last? Steinmetz aroused was an unknown quantity to +Claude de Chauxville. + +"I have known you now for twenty-five years," went on Karl Steinmetz, +"and I cannot say that I know any good of you. But let that pass; it is +not, I suppose, my business. The world is as the good God made it. I can +do nothing toward bettering it. I have always known you to be a +scoundrel--a fact to be deplored--and that is all. But so soon as your +villany affects my own life, then, my friend, a more active recognition +of it is necessary." + +"Indeed!" sneered the Frenchman. + +"Your villany has touched Paul's life, and at that point it touches +mine," continued Karl Steinmetz, with slow anger. "You followed us to +Petersburg--thence you dogged us to the Government of Tver. You twisted +that foolish woman, the Countess Lanovitch, round your finger, and +obtained from her an invitation to Thors. All this in order to be near +one of us. Ach! I have been watching you. Is it only after twenty-five +years that I at last convince you that I am not such a fool as you are +pleased to consider me?" + +"You have not convinced me yet," put in De Chauxville, with his easy +laugh. + +"No, but I shall do so before I have finished with you. Now, you have +not come here for nothing. It is to be near one of us. It is not Miss +Delafield; she knows you. Some women--good women--have an instinct given +to them by God for a defence against such men--such things as you. Is it +I?" + +He touched his broad chest with his two hands, and stood defying his +life-long foe. + +"Is it me that you follow? If so, I am here. Let us have done with it +now." + +De Chauxville laughed. There was an uneasy look in his eyes. He did not +quite understand Steinmetz. He made no answer. But he turned and looked +at the window. It is possible that he suddenly remembered the threat +concerning it. + +"Is it Paul?" continued Steinmetz. "I think not. I think you are afraid +of Paul. Remains the princess. Unless you can convince me to the +contrary, I must conclude that you are trying to get a helpless woman +into your power." + +"You always were a champion of helpless ladies," sneered De Chauxville. + +"Ah! You remember that, do you? I also--I remember it. It is long ago, +and I have forgiven you; but I have not forgotten. What you were then +you will be now. Your record is against you." + +Steinmetz was standing with his back to what appeared to be the only +exit from the room. There were two other doors concealed in the oaken +panels, but De Chauxville did not know that. He could not take his eyes +from the broad face of his companion, upon which there were singular +blotches of color. + +"I am waiting," said the German, "for you to explain your conduct." + +"Indeed!" replied De Chauxville. "Then, my friend, you will have to +continue waiting. I fail to recognize your right to make enquiry into my +movements. I am not responsible to any man for my actions, least of all +to you. The man who manages his neighbor's affairs mismanages his own. I +would recommend you to mind your own business. Kindly let me pass." + +De Chauxville's words were brave enough, but his lips were unsteady. A +weak mouth is apt to betray its possessor at inconvenient moments. He +waved Steinmetz aside, but he made no movement toward the door. He kept +the table between him and his companion. + +Steinmetz was getting calmer. There was an uncanny hush about him. + +"Then I am to conclude," he said, "that you came to Russia in order to +persecute a helpless woman. Her innocence or her guilt is, for the +moment, beside the question. Neither is any business of yours. Both, on +the contrary, are my affair. Innocent or guilty, the Princess Howard +Alexis must from this moment be freed from your persecution." + +De Chauxville shrugged his shoulders. He tapped on the floor impatiently +with the toe of his neat riding-boot. + +"Allons!" he said. "Let me pass!" + +"Your story of Sydney Bamborough," went on Steinmetz coldly, "was a good +one wherewith to frighten a panic-stricken woman. But you brought it to +the wrong person when you brought it to me. Do you suppose that I would +have allowed the marriage to take place unless I knew that Bamborough +was dead?" + +"You may be telling the truth about that incident or you may not," said +De Chauxville. "But my knowledge of the betrayal of the Charity League +is sufficient for my purpose." + +"Yes," admitted Steinmetz grimly, "you have information there with +possibilities of mischief in it. But I shall discount most of it by +telling Prince Pavlo to-night all that I know, and I know more than you +do. Also, I intend to seal your lips before you leave this room." + +De Chauxville stared at him with a dropping lip. He gulped down +something in his throat. His hand was stealing round under the fur +jacket to a pocket at the back of his trousers. + +"Let me out!" he hissed. + +There was a gleam of bright metal in the sunlight that poured in through +the window. De Chauxville raised his arm sharply, and at the same +instant Steinmetz threw a book in his face. A loud report, and the room +was full of smoke. + +Steinmetz placed one hand on the table and, despite his weight, vaulted +it cleanly. This man had taken his degree at Heidelberg, and the Germans +are the finest gymnasts in the world. Moreover, muscle, once made, +remains till death. It was his only chance, for the Frenchman had dodged +the novel, but it spoiled his aim. Steinmetz vaulted right on to him, +and De Chauxville staggered back. + +In a moment Steinmetz had him by the collar; his face was gray, his +heavy eyes ablaze. If any thing will rouse a man, it is being fired at +point-blank at a range of four yards with a .280 revolver. + +"Ach!" gasped the German; "you would shoot me, would you?" + +He wrenched the pistol from De Chauxville's fingers and threw it into +the corner of the room. Then he shook the man like a garment. + +"First," he cried, "you would kill Paul, and now you try to shoot me! +Good God! what are you? You are no man. Do you know what I am going to +do with you? I am going to thrash you like a dog!" + +He dragged him to the fire-place. Above the mantelpiece a stick-rack was +affixed to the wall, and here were sticks and riding-whips. Steinmetz +selected a heavy whip. His eyes were shot with blood; his mouth worked +beneath his mustache. + +"So," he said, "I am going to settle with you at last." + +De Chauxville kicked and struggled, but he could not get free. He only +succeeded in half choking himself. + +"You are going to swear," said Steinmetz, "never to approach the +princess again--never to divulge what you know of her past life." + +The Frenchman was almost blue in the face. His eyes were wild with +terror. + +And Karl Steinmetz thrashed him. + +It did not last long. No word was spoken. The silence was only broken by +their shuffling feet, by the startling report of each blow, by De +Chauxville's repeated gasps of pain. + +The fur jacket was torn in several places. The white shirt appeared here +and there. In one place it was stained with red. + +At last Steinmetz threw him huddled into one corner of the room. The +chattering face, the wild eyes that looked up at him, were terrible to +see. + +"When you have promised to keep the secret you may go," said Steinmetz. +"You must swear it." + +De Chauxville's lips moved, but no sound came from them. Steinmetz +poured some water into a tumbler and gave it to him. + +"It had to come to this," he said, "sooner or later. Paul would have +killed you; that is the only difference. Do you swear by God in heaven +above you that you will keep the princess's secret?" + +"I swear it," answered De Chauxville hoarsely. + +Steinmetz was holding on to the back of a high chair with both hands, +breathing heavily. His face was still livid. That which had been white +in his eyes was quite red. + +De Chauxville was crawling toward the revolver in the corner of the +room, but he was almost fainting. It was a question whether he would +last long enough to reach the fire-arm. There was a bright patch of red +in either liver-colored cheek; his lips were working convulsively. And +Steinmetz saw him in time. He seized him by the collar of his coat and +dragged him back. He placed his foot on the little pistol and faced De +Chauxville with glaring eyes. De Chauxville rose to his feet, and for a +moment the two men looked into each other's souls. The Frenchman's face +was twisted with pain. No word was said. + +Such was the last reckoning between Karl Steinmetz and the Baron Claude +de Chauxville. + +The Frenchman went slowly toward the door. He faltered and looked round +for a chair. He sat heavily down with a little exclamation of pain and +exhaustion, and felt for his pocket-handkerchief. The scented cambric +diffused a faint, dainty odor of violets. He sat forward with his two +hands on his knees, swaying a little from side to side. Presently he +raised his handkerchief to his face. There were tears in his eyes. + +Thus the two men waited until De Chauxville had recovered himself +sufficiently to take his departure. The air was full of naked human +passions. It was rather a grewsome scene. + +At last the Frenchman stood slowly up, and with characteristic thought +of appearances fingered his torn coat. + +"Have you a cloak?" asked Steinmetz. + +"No." + +The German went to a cupboard in the wall and selected a long +riding-cloak, which he handed to the Frenchman without a word. + +Thus Claude de Chauxville walked to the door in a cloak which had +figured at many a Charity League meeting. Assuredly the irony of Fate is +a keener thing than any poor humor we have at our command. When evil is +punished in this present life there is no staying of the hand. + +Steinmetz followed De Chauxville through the long passage they had +traversed a few minutes earlier and down the broad staircase. The +servants were waiting at the door with the horse put at the Frenchman's +disposal by Paul. + +De Chauxville mounted slowly, heavily, with twitching lips. His face was +set and cold now. The pain was getting bearable, the wounded vanity was +bleeding inwardly. In his dull eyes there was a gleam of hatred and +malice. It was the face of a man rejoicing inwardly over a deep and +certain vengeance. + +"It is well!" he was muttering between his clenched teeth as he rode +away, while Steinmetz watched him from the doorstep. "It is well! Now I +will not spare you." + +He rode down the hill and through the village, with the light of the +setting sun shining on a face where pain and deadly rage were fighting +for the mastery. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + + +A TALE THAT IS TOLD + +Karl Steinmetz walked slowly upstairs to his own room. The evening sun, +shining through the small, deeply embrasured windows, fell on a face at +no time joyous, now tired and worn. He sat down at his broad +writing-table, and looked round the room with a little blink of the +eyelids. + +"I am getting too old for this sort of thing," he said. + +His gaze lighted on the heavy riding-whip thrown on the ground near the +door where he had released Claude de Chauxville, after the terrible +punishment meted out to that foe with heavy Teutonic hand. Steinmetz +rose, and picking up the whip with the grunt of a stout man stooping, +replaced it carefully in the rack over the mantelpiece. + +He stood looking out of the window for a few moments. + +"It will have to be done," he said resolutely, and rang the bell. + +"My compliments to the prince," he said to his servant, who appeared +instantly, "and will he come to me here." + +When Paul came into the room a few minutes later Steinmetz was standing +by the fire. He turned and looked gravely at the prince. + +"I have just kicked De Chauxville out of the house," he said. + +The color left Paul's face quite suddenly. + +"Why?" he asked, with hard eyes. He had begun to distrust Etta, and +there is nothing so hard to stop as the growth of distrust. + +Steinmetz did not answer at once. + +"Was it not _my_ privilege?" asked Paul, with a grim smile. There are +some smiles more terrible than any frown. + +"No," answered Steinmetz, "I think not. It is not as bad as that. But it +is bad enough, mein lieber!--it is bad enough! I horsewhipped him first +for myself. Gott! how pleasant that was! And then I kicked him out for +you." + +"Why?" repeated Paul, with a white face. + +"It is a long story," answered Steinmetz, without looking at him. "He +knows too much." + +"About whom?" + +"About all of us." + +Paul walked away to the window. He stood looking out, his hands thrust +into the side-pockets of his jacket, his broad back turned +uncompromisingly upon his companion. + +"Tell me the story," he said. "You need not hurry over it. You need not +trouble to--spare me. Only let it be quite complete--once for all." + +Steinmetz winced. He knew the expression of the face that was looking +out of the window. + +"This man has hated me all his life," he said. "It began as such things +usually do between men--about a woman. It was years ago. I got the +better of him, and the good God got the better of me. She died, and De +Chauxville forgot her. I--have not forgotten her. But I have tried to do +so. It is a slow process, and I have made very little progress; but all +that is my affair and beside the question. I merely mention it to show +you that De Chauxville had a grudge against me--" + +"This is no time for mistaken charity," interrupted Paul. "Do not try to +screen any body. I shall see through it." + +There was a little pause. Never had that silent room been so noiseless. + +"In after-life," Steinmetz went on, "it was our fate to be at variance +several times. Our mutual dislike has had no opportunity of diminishing. +It seems that, before you married, De Chauxville was pleased to consider +himself in love with Mrs. Sydney Bamborough. Whether he had any right to +think himself ill-used, I do not know. Such matters are usually known to +two persons only, and imperfectly by them. It would appear that the +wound to his vanity was serious. It developed into a thirst for revenge. +He looked about for some means to do you harm. He communicated with your +enemies, and allied himself to such men as Vassili of Paris. He followed +us to Petersburg, and then he had a stroke of good fortune. He found +out--who betrayed the Charity League!" + +Paul turned slowly round. In his eyes there burned a dull, hungering +fire. Men have seen such a look in the eyes of a beast of prey, driven, +famished, cornered at last, and at last face to face with its foe. + +"Ah! He knows that!" he said slowly. + +"Yes, God help us! he knows that." + +"And who was it?" + +Steinmetz moved uneasily from one foot to the other. + +"It was a woman," he said. + +"A woman?" + +"A woman--you know," said Steinmetz slowly. + +"Good God! Catrina?" + +"No, not Catrina." + +"Then who?" cried Paul hoarsely. His hands fell heavily on the table. + +"Your wife!" + +Paul knew before the words were spoken. + +He turned again, and stood looking out of the window with his hands +thrust into his pockets. He stood there for whole minutes in an awful +stillness. The clock on the mantel-piece, a little travelling timepiece, +ticked in a hurried way as if anxious to get on. Down beneath them, +somewhere in the courtyards of the great castle, a dog--a deep-voiced +wolf-hound--was baying persistently and nervously, listening for the +echo of its own voice amid the pines of the desert forest. + +Steinmetz watched Paul's motionless back with a sort of fascination. He +moved uneasily, as if to break a spell of silence almost unbearable in +its intensity. He went to the table and sat down. From mere habit he +took up a quill pen. He looked at the point of it and at the inkstand. +But he had nothing to write. There was nothing to say. + +He laid the pen aside, and sat leaning his broad head upon the palm of +his hand, his two elbows on the table. Paul never moved. Steinmetz +waited. His own life had been no great success. He had had much to bear, +and he had borne it. He was wondering heavily whether any of it had been +as bad as what Paul was bearing now while he looked out of the window +with his hands in his pockets, saying nothing. + +At length Paul moved. He turned, and, coming toward the table, laid his +hand on Steinmetz's broad shoulder. + +"Are you sure of it?" he asked, in a voice that did not sound like his +own at all--a hollow voice like that of an old man. + +"Quite; I have it from Stepan Lanovitch--from the princess herself." + +They remained thus for a moment. Then Paul withdrew his hand and walked +slowly to the window. + +"Tell me," he said, "how she did it." + +Steinmetz was playing with the quill pen again. It is singular how at +great moments we perform trivial acts, think trivial thoughts. He dipped +the pen in the ink, and made a pattern on the blotting-pad with dots. + +"It was an organized plan between husband and wife," he said. +"Bamborough turned up at Thors and asked for a night's lodging, on the +strength of a very small acquaintance. He stole the papers from Stepan's +study and took them to Tver, where his wife was waiting for them. She +took them on to Paris and sold them to Vassili. Bamborough began his +journey eastward, knowing presumably that he could not escape by the +western frontier, but lost his way on the steppe. You remember the man +whom we picked up between here and Tver, with his face all cut to +pieces?--he had been dragged by the stirrup. That was Sydney Bamborough. +The good God had hit back quickly." + +"How long have you known this?" asked Paul, in a queer voice. + +"I saw it suddenly in the princess's face, one day in Petersburg--a sort +of revelation. I read it there, and she saw me reading. I should have +liked to keep it from you, for your sake as well as for hers. Our daily +life is made possible only by the fact that we know so little of our +neighbors. There are many things of which we are better ignorant right +up to the end. This might have been one of them. But De Chauxville found +it out, and it is better that I should tell you than he." + +Paul did not look around. The wolf-hound was still barking at its own +echo--a favorite pastime of those who make a great local stir in the +world. + +"Of course," said Paul, after a long pause, "I have been a great fool. I +know that. But--" + +He turned and looked at Steinmetz with haggard eyes. + +"But I would rather go on being a fool than suspect any one of a +deception like this." + +Steinmetz was still making patterns on the blotting-pad. + +"It is difficult for us men," he said slowly, "to look at these things +from a woman's point of view. They hold a different sense of honor from +ours--especially if they are beautiful. And the fault is +ours--especially toward the beautiful ones. There may have been +temptations of which we are ignorant." + +Paul was still looking at him. Steinmetz looked up slowly, and saw that +he had grown ten years older in the last few minutes. He did not look at +him for more than a second, because the sight of Paul's face hurt him. +But he saw in that moment that Paul did not understand. This strong man, +hard in his youthful strength of limb and purpose, would be just, but +nothing more. And between man and man it is not always justice that is +required. Between man and woman justice rarely meets the difficulty. + +"Comprendre c'est pardonner," quoted Steinmetz vaguely. + +He hesitated to interfere between Paul and his wife. Axioms are made for +crucial moments. A man's life has been steered by a proverb before this. +Some, who have no religion, steer by them all the voyage. + +Paul walked slowly to the chair he usually occupied, opposite to +Steinmetz, at the writing-table. He walked and sat down as if he had +travelled a long distance. + +"What is to be done?" asked Steinmetz. + +"I do not know. I do not think that it matters much. What do you +recommend?" + +"There is so much to be done," answered Steinmetz, "that it is difficult +to know what to do first. We must not forget that De Chauxville is +furious. He will do all the harm of which he is capable at once. We must +not forget that the country is in a state of smoldering revolt, and that +we have two women, two English ladies, entrusted to our care." + +Paul moved uneasily in his chair. His companion had struck the right +note. This large man was happiest when he was tiring himself out. + +"Yes; but about Etta?" he said. + +And the sound of his voice made Steinmetz wince. There is nothing so +heartrending as the sight of dumb suffering. + +"You must see her," answered he reflectively. "You must see her, of +course. She may be able to explain." + +He looked across the table beneath his shaggy gray eyebrows. Paul did +not at that moment look a likely subject for explanations--even the +explanations of a beautiful woman. But there was one human quantity +which in all his experience Karl Steinmetz had never successfully +gauged--namely, the extent of a woman's power over the man who loves, or +at one time has loved her. + +"She cannot explain away Stepan Lanovitch's ruined life. She can hardly +explain away a thousand deaths from unnatural causes every winter, in +this province alone." + +This was what Steinmetz dreaded--justice. + +"Give her the opportunity," he said. + +Paul was looking out of the window. His singularly firm mouth was still +and quiet--not a mouth for explanations. + +"I will, if you like," he said. + +"I do like, Paul. I beg of you to do it. And remember that--she is not a +man." + +This, like other appeals of the same nature, fell on stony ground. Paul +simply did not understand it. In all the years of his work among the +peasants it is possible that some well-spring of conventional charity +had been dried up--scorched in the glare of burning injustice. He was +not at this moment in a mood to consider the only excuse that Steinmetz +seemed to be able to urge. + +The sun had set long ago. The short twilight lay over the snow-covered +land with a chill hopelessness. Steinmetz looked at his watch. They had +been together an hour--one of those hours that count as years in a life +time. He had to peer into the face of the watch in order to see the +hands. The room was almost dark, and no servant ever came to it, unless +summoned. + +Paul was looking down at his companion, as if waiting to hear the time. +At great moments we are suddenly brought face to face with the limits of +human nature. It is at such moments that we find that we are not gods, +but only men. We can only feel to a certain extent, only suffer up to a +certain point. + +"We must dress for dinner," said Steinmetz. "Afterward--well, afterward +we shall see." + +"Yes," answered Paul. And he did not go. + +The two men stood looking at each other for a moment. They had passed +through much together--danger, excitement, and now they were dabbling in +sorrow. It would appear that this same sorrow runs like a river across +the road of our life. Some of us find the ford and plash through the +shallows--shallow ourselves--while others flounder into deep water. +These are they who look right on to the greater events, and fail to note +the trivial details of each little step. Paul was wading through the +deep water, and this good friend of his was not inclined to stand upon +the bank. It is while passing through this river that Fortune sends some +of us a friend, who is ever afterward different from all others. + +Paul stood looking down at the broad, heavy face of the man who loved +him like a father. It was not easy for him to speak. He seemed to be +making an effort. + +"I do not want you to think," he said at last, "that it is as bad as it +might have been. It might have been worse--much worse--had I not made a +mistake in regard to my own feelings when I married her. I will try and +do the right thing by her. Only at present there does not seem to be +much left, except you." + +Steinmetz looked up with his quaintly resigned smile. + +"Ah, yes," he said, "I am there always." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + + +HUSBAND AND WIFE + +Karl Steinmetz had shown the depth of his knowledge of men and women +when he commented on that power of facing danger with an unruffled +countenance which he was pleased to attribute to English ladies above +all women. During the evening he had full opportunity of verifying his +own observations. + +Etta came down to dinner smiling and imperturbable. On the threshold of +the drawing-room she exchanged a glance with Karl Steinmetz; and that +was all. At dinner it was Maggie and Paul who were silent. Etta talked +to Steinmetz--brightly, gayly, with a certain courage of a very high +order; for she was desperate, and she did not show it. + +At last the evening came to an end. Maggie had sung two songs. Steinmetz +had performed on the piano with a marvellous touch. All had played their +parts with the brazen faces which Steinmetz, in his knowledge of many +nations, assigned to the Anglo-Saxon race before others. + +At last Etta rose to go to bed, with a little sharp sigh of great +suspense. It was coming. + +She went up to her room, bidding Maggie good-night in the passage. In a +mechanical way she allowed the deft-handed maid to array her in a +dressing gown--soft, silken, a dainty triumph in its way. Then, almost +impatiently, she sent the maid away when her hair was only half +released. She would brush it herself. She was tired. No, she wanted +nothing more. + +She sat down by the fire, brush in hand. She could hardly breathe. It +was coming. + +She heard Paul come to his dressing-room. She heard his deep, quiet +voice reply to some question of his valet's. Then the word "Good-night" +in the same quiet voice. The valet had gone. There was only the door now +between her and--what? Her fingers were at the throat of her +dressing-gown. The soft lace seemed to choke her. + +Then Paul knocked at the door. It was coming. She opened her lips, but +at first could make no sound. + +"Come in!" she said at length hoarsely. + +She wondered whether he would kill her. She wondered whether she was in +love with her husband. She had begun wondering that lately; she was +wondering it when he came in. He had changed his dress-coat for a +silk-faced jacket, in which he was in the habit of working with +Steinmetz in the quiet room after the household had gone to bed. + +She looked up. She dropped the brush, and ran toward him with a great +rustle of her flowing silks. + +"Oh, Paul, what is it?" she cried. + +She stopped short, not daring to touch him, before his cold, set face. + +"Have you seen any one?" she whispered. + +"Only De Chauxville," he answered, "this afternoon." + +"Indeed, Paul," she protested hastily, "it was nothing. A message from +Catrina Lanovitch. It was only the usual visit of an acquaintance. It +would have been very strange if he had not called. Do you think I could +care for a man like that?" + +"I never did think so until now," returned Paul steadily. "Your excuses +accuse you. You may care for him. I do not know; I--do--not--care." + +She turned slowly and went back to her chair. + +Mechanically she took up the brush, and shook back her beautiful hair. + +"You mean you do not care for me," she said. "Oh, Paul! be careful." + +Paul stood looking at her. He was not a subtle-minded man at all. He was +not one of those who take it upon themselves to say that they understand +women--using the word in an offensively general sense, as if women were +situated midway between the human and the animal races. He was +old-fashioned enough to look upon women as higher and purer than men, +while equally capable of thought and self-control. He had, it must be +remembered, no great taste for fictional literature. He had not read the +voluminous lucubrations of the modern woman writer. He had not assisted +at the nauseating spectacle of a woman morally turning herself inside +out in three volumes and an interview. + +No, this man respected women still; and he paid them an honor which, +thank Heaven, most of them still deserve. He treated them as men in the +sense that he considered them to be under the same code of right and +wrong, of good and evil. + +He did not understand what Etta meant when she told him to be careful. +He did not know that the modern social code is like the Spanish +grammar--there are so many exceptions that the rules are hardly worth +noting. And one of our most notorious modern exceptions is the married +woman who is pleased to hold herself excused because outsiders tell her +that her husband does not understand her. + +"I do not think," said Paul judicially, "that you can have cared very +much whether I loved you or not. When you married me you knew that I was +the promoter of the Charity League; I almost told you. I told you so +much that, with your knowledge, you must have been aware of the fact +that I was heavily interested in the undertaking which you betrayed. You +married me without certain proof of your husband's death, such was your +indecent haste to call yourself a princess. And now I find, on your own +confession, that you have a clandestine understanding with a man who +tried to murder me only a week ago. Is it not rather absurd to talk of +caring?" + +He stood looking down at her, cold and terrible in the white heat of his +suppressed Northern anger. + +The little clock on the mantel-piece, in a terrible hurry, ticked with +all its might. Time was speeding. Every moment was against her. And she +could think of nothing to say simply because those things that she would +have said to others would carry no weight with this man. + +Etta was leaning forward in the luxurious chair, staring with haggard +eyes into the fire. The flames leaped up and gleamed on her pale face, +in her deep eyes. + +"I suppose," she said, without looking at him, "that you will not +believe me when I tell you that I hate the man. I knew nothing of what +you refer to as happening last week; his attempt to murder you, I mean. +You are a prince, and all-powerful in your own province. Can you not +throw him into prison and keep him there? Such things are done in +Russia. He is more dangerous than you think. Please do it--please--" + +Paul looked at her with hard, unresponsive eyes. Lives depended on his +answer. + +"I did not come here to discuss Claude de Chauxville," he said, "but +you, and our future." + +Etta drew herself up as one under the lash, and waited with set teeth. + +"I propose," he said, in a final voice which made it no proposition at +all, "that you go home to England at once with--your cousin. This +country is not safe for you. The house in London will be at your +disposal. I will make a suitable settlement on you, sufficient to live +in accordance with your title and position. I must ask you to remember +that the name you bear has hitherto been an unsullied one. We have been +proud of our princesses--up to now. In case of any trouble reaching you +from outside sources connected with this country, I should like you to +remember that you are under my protection and that of Steinmetz. Either +of us will be glad at any time to consider any appeal for assistance +that you may think fit to make. You will always be the Princess Howard +Alexis." + +Etta gave a sudden laugh. + +"Oh, yes," she said, and her face was strangely red, "I shall still be +the Princess Alexis." + +"With sufficient money to keep up the position," he went on, with the +cruel irony of a slow-spoken man. + +A queer, twisted smile passed across Etta's face--the smile of one who +is in agony and will not shriek. + +"There are certain stipulations which I must make in self-defence," went +on Paul. "I must ask you to cease all communication of whatever nature +with the Baron de Chauxville. I am not jealous of him--now. I do not +know why." + +He paused, as if wondering what the meaning of this might be. Etta knew +it. The knowledge was part of her punishment. + +"But," continued her husband. "I am not going to sacrifice the name my +mother bore to the vanity of a French coxcomb. You will be kind enough +to avoid all society where it is likely that you should meet him. If you +disregard my desires in this matter, I shall be compelled to take means +to enforce them." + +"What means?" + +"I shall reduce your allowance." + +Their eyes met, and perhaps that was the bitterest moment in Etta's +life. Dead things are better put out of sight at once. Etta felt that +Paul's dead love would grin at her in every sovereign of the allowance +which was to be hers. She would never get away from it; she could never +shake off its memory. + +"Am I to live alone?" asked Etta, suddenly finding her voice. + +"That is as you like," answered Paul, perhaps purposely misunderstanding +her. "You are at liberty to have any friend or companion you wish. +Perhaps--your cousin." + +"Maggie?" + +"Yes," answered Paul. For the first time since he had entered the room +his eyes were averted from Etta's face. + +"She would not live with me," said the princess curtly. + +Paul seemed to be reflecting. When he next spoke it was in a kinder +voice. + +"You need not tell the circumstances which have given rise to this +arrangement." + +Etta shrugged her shoulders. + +"That," went on Paul, "rests entirely with yourself. You may be sure +that I will tell no one. I am not likely to discuss it with any one +whomsoever." + +Etta's stony eyes softened for a moment. She seemed to be alternating +between hatred of this man and love of him--a dangerous state for any +woman. It is possible that, if he had held his hand out to her, she +would have been at his feet in a wild, incoherent passion of self-hatred +and abasement. Such moments as these turn our lives and determine them. +Paul knew nothing of the issue hanging on this moment, on the passing +softness of her eyes. He knew nothing of the danger in which this woman +stood, of the temptation with which she was wrestling. He went on in his +blindness, went on being only just. + +"If," he said, "you have any further questions to ask, I shall always be +at your service. For the next few days I shall be busy. The peasants are +in a state of discontent verging on rebellion. We cannot at present +arrange for your journey to Tver, but as soon as it is possible I will +tell you." + +He looked at the clock, and made an imperceptible movement toward the +door. + +Etta glanced up sharply. She did not seem to be breathing. + +"Is that all?" she asked, in a dull voice. + +There was a long silence, tense and throbbing, the great silence of the +steppe. + +"I think so," answered Paul at length. "I have tried to be just." + +"Then justice is very cruel." + +"Not so cruel as the woman who for a few pounds sells the happiness of +thousands of human beings. Steinmetz advised me to speak to you. He +suggested the possibility of circumstances of which we are ignorant. He +said that you might be able to explain." + +Silence. + +"Can you explain?" + +Silence. Etta sat looking into the fire. The little clock hurried on. At +length Etta drew a deep breath. + +"You are the sort of man," she said, "who does not understand +temptation. You are strong. The devil leaves the strong in peace. You +have found virtue easy because you have never wanted money. Your +position has always been assured. Your name alone is a password through +the world. Your sort are always hard on women who--who--What have I +done, after all?" + +Some instinct bade her rise to her feet and stand before him--tall, +beautiful, passionate, a woman in a thousand, a fit mate for such as he. +Her beautiful hair in burnished glory round her face gleamed in the +firelight. Her white fingers clenched, her arms thrown back, her breast +panting beneath the lace, her proud face looking defiance into his--no +one but a prince could have braved this princess. + +"What have I done?" she cried a second time. "I have only fought for +myself, and if I have won, so much the greater credit. I am your wife. I +have done nothing the law can touch. Thousands of women moving in our +circle are not half so good as I am. I swear before God I am----" + +"Hush!" he said, with upraised hand. "I never doubted that." + +"I will do any thing you wish," she went on, and in her humility she was +very dangerous. "I deceived you, I know. But I sold the Charity League +before I knew that you--that you thought of me. When I married you I +didn't love you. I admit that. But Paul--oh, Paul, if you were not so +good you would understand." + +Perhaps he did understand; for there was that in her eyes that made her +meaning clear. + +He was silent; standing before her in his great strength, his marvellous +and cruel self-restraint. + +"You will not forgive me?" + +For a moment she leaned forward, peering into his face. He seemed to be +reflecting. + +"Yes," he said at length, "I forgive you. But if I cared for you, +forgiveness would be impossible." + +He went slowly toward the door. Etta looked round the room with drawn +eyes; their room--the room he had fitted up for his bride with the +lavishness of a great wealth and a great love. + +He paused, with his hand on the door. + +"And," she said, with fiery cheeks, "does your forgiveness date from +to-night?" + +"Yes!" + +He opened the door. + +"Good-night!" he said, and went out. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + + +STEPAN RETURNS + +At daybreak the next morning Karl Steinmetz was awakened by the familiar +cry of the wolf beneath his window. He rose and dressed hastily. The +eastern sky was faintly pink; a rosy twilight moved among the pines. He +went down stairs and opened the little door at the back of the castle. + +It was, of course, the starosta, shivering and bleached in the chilly +dawn. + +"They have watched my cottage, Excellency, all night. It was only now +that I could get away. There are two strange sleighs outside Domensky's +hut. There are marks of many sleighs that have been and gone. +Excellency, it is unsafe for any one to venture outside the castle +to-day. You must send to Tver for the soldiers." + +"The prince refuses to do that." + +"But why, Excellency? We shall be killed!" + +"You do not know the effect of platoon firing on a closely packed mob, +starost. The prince does," replied Steinmetz, with his grim smile. + +They spoke together in hushed voices for half an hour, while the +daylight crept up the eastern sky. Then the starosta stole away among +the still larches, like the wolf whose cry he imitated so perfectly. + +Steinmetz closed the door and went upstairs to his own room, his face +grave and thoughtful, his tread heavy with the weight of anxiety. + +The day passed as such days do. Etta was not the woman to plead a +conventional headache and remain hidden. She came down to breakfast, and +during that meal was boldly conversational. + +"She has spirit," reflected Karl Steinmetz behind his quiet gray eyes. +He admired her for it, and helped her. He threw back the ball of +conversation with imperturbable good humor. + +They were completely shut in. No news from the outer world penetrated to +the little party besieged within their own stone walls. Maggie, fearless +and innocent, announced her intention of snow-shoeing, but was dissuaded +therefrom by Steinmetz with covert warnings. + +During the morning each was occupied in individual affairs. At luncheon +time they met again. Etta was now almost defiant. She was on her mettle. +She was so near to loving Paul that a hatred of him welled up within her +breast whenever he repelled her advances with uncompromising reticence. + +They did not know--perhaps she hardly knew herself--that the opening of +the side-door depended upon her humor. + +In the afternoon Etta and Maggie sat, as was their wont, in the +morning-room looking out over the cliff. Of late their intercourse had +been slightly strained. They had never had much in common, although +circumstances had thrown their lives together. It is one of the ills to +which women are heir that they have frequently to pass their whole lives +in the society of persons with whom they have no real sympathy. Both +these women were conscious of the little rift within the lute, but such +rifts are better treated with silence. That which comes to interfere +with a woman's friendship will not often bear discussion. + +At dusk Steinmetz went out. He had an appointment with the starosta. + +Paul was sitting in his own room, making a pretence of work, about five +o'clock, when Steinmetz came hurriedly to him. + +"A new development," he said shortly. "Come to my room." + +Paul rose and followed him through the double doorway built in the +thickness of the wall. + +Steinmetz's large room was lighted only by a lamp standing on the table. +All the light was thrown on the desk by a large green shade, leaving the +rest of the room in a semi-darkness. + +At the far end of the room a man was standing in an expectant attitude. +There was something furtive about this intruder, and at the same time +familiar to Paul, who peered at him through the gloom. + +Then the man came hurriedly forward. + +"Ah, Pavlo, Pavlo!" he said in a deep, hollow voice. "I could not expect +you to know me." + +He threw his arms around him, and embraced him after the simple manner +of Russia. Then he held him at arm's length. + +"Stepan!" said Paul. "No, I did not know you." + +Stepan Lanovitch was still holding him at arm's length, examining him +with the large faint blue eyes which so often go with an exaggerated +philanthropy. + +"Old," he muttered, "old! Ah, my poor Pavlo! I heard in Kiew--you know +how we outlaws hear such things--that you were in trouble, so I came to +you." + +Steinmetz in the background raised his patient eyebrows. + +"There are two men in the world," went on the voluble Lanovitch, "who +can manage the moujiks of Tver--you and I; so I came. I will help you, +Pavlo; I will stand by you. Together we can assuredly quell this +revolt." + +Paul nodded, and allowed himself to be embraced a second time. He had +long known Stepan Lanovitch of Thors as one of the many who go about the +world doing good with their eyes shut. For the moment he had absolutely +no use for this well-meaning blunderer. + +"I am afraid," he said, "that it has got beyond control. We cannot stamp +it out now except by force, and I would rather not do that. Our only +hope is that it may burn itself out. The talkers must get hoarse in +time." + +Lanovitch shook his head. + +"They have been talking since the days of Ananias," he said, "and they +are not hoarse yet. I fear, Pavlo, there will never be peace in the +world until the talkers are hoarse." + +"How did you get here?" asked Paul, who was always businesslike. + +"I brought a pack on my back and sold cotton. I made myself known to the +starosta, and he communicated with good Karl here." + +"Did you learn any thing in the village?" asked Paul. + +"No; they suspected me. They would not talk. But I understand them, +Pavlo, these poor simple fools. A pebble in the stream would turn the +current of their convictions. Tell them who is the Moscow doctor. It is +your only chance." + +Steinmetz grunted acquiescence and walked wearily to the window. This +was only an old and futile argument of his own. + +"And make it impossible for me to live another day among them," said +Paul. "Do you think St. Petersburg would countenance a prince who works +among his moujiks?" + +Stepan Lanovitch's pale blue eyes looked troubled. Steinmetz shrugged +his shoulders. + +"They have brought it on themselves," he said. + +"As much as a lamb brings the knife upon itself by growing up," replied +Paul. + +Lanovitch shook his white head with a tolerant little smile. He loved +these poor helpless peasants with a love as large as and a thousand +times less practical than Paul's. + +In the meantime Paul was thinking in his clear, direct way. It was this +man's habit in life and in thought to walk straight past the side +issues. + +"It is like you, Stepan," he said at length, "to come to us at this +time. We feel it, and we recognize the generosity of it, for Steinmetz +and I know the danger you are running in coming back to this country. +But we cannot let you do it--No, do not protest. It is quite out of the +question. We might quell the revolt; no doubt we should--the two of us +together. But what would happen afterward? You would be sent back to +Siberia, and I should probably follow you for harboring an escaped +convict." + +The face of the impulsive philanthropist dropped pathetically. He had +come to his friend's assistance on the spur of the moment. He was +destined, as some men are, to plunge about the world seeking to do good. +And it has been decreed that good must be done by stealth and after +deliberation only. He who does good on the spur of the moment usually +sows a seed of dissension in the trench of time. + +"Also," went on Paul, with that deliberate grasp of the situation which +never failed to astonish the ready-witted Steinmetz; "also, you have +other calls upon your energy. You have other work to do." + +Lanovitch's broad face lightened up; his benevolent brow beamed. His +capacity for work had brought him to the shoemaker's last in Tomsk. It +is a vice that grows with indulgence. + +"It has pleased the Authorities," went on Paul, who was shy of religious +turns of phrase, "to give us all our own troubles. Mine--such as they +are, Stepan--must be managed by myself. Yours can be faced by no one but +you. You have come at the right moment. You do not quite realize what +your coming means to Catrina." + +"Catrina! Ah!" + +The weak blue eyes looked into the strong face and read nothing there. + +"I doubt," said Paul, "whether it is right for you to continue +sacrificing Catrina for the sake of the little good that you are able to +do. You are hampered in your good work to such an extent that the result +is very small, while the pain you give is very great." + +"But is that so, Pavlo? Is my child unhappy?" + +"I fear so," replied Paul gravely, with his baffling self-restraint. +"She has not much in common with her mother, you understand." + +"Ah, yes!" + +"It is you to whom she is attached. Sometimes it is so with children and +parents. One cannot tell why." + +Steinmetz looked as if he could supply information upon the subject: but +he remained silent, standing, as it were, in an acquiescent attitude. + +"You have fought your fight," said Paul. "A good fight, too. You have +struck your blow for the country. You have sown your seed, but the +harvest is not yet. Now it is time to think of your own safety, of the +happiness of your own child." + +Stepan Lanovitch turned away and sat heavily down. He leaned his two +arms on the table, and his chin upon his clenched hands. + +"Why not leave the country now; at all events for a few years?" went on +Paul, and when a man who is accustomed to command stoops to persuade, it +is strong persuasion that he wields. "You can take Catrina with you. You +will be assuring her happiness, which, at all events, is something +tangible--a present harvest! I will drive over to Thors now and bring +her back. You can leave to-night and go to America." + +Stepan Lanovitch raised his head and looked hard into Paul's face. + +"You wish it?" + +"I think," answered Paul steadily, "that it is for Catrina's happiness." + +Then Lanovitch rose up and took Paul's hand in his work-stained grip. + +"Go, my son! It will be a great happiness to me. I will wait here," he +said. + +Paul went straight to the door. He was a man with a capacity for prompt +action, which seemed to rise to demand. Steinmetz followed him out into +the passage and took him by the arm. + +"You cannot do it," he said. + +"Yes, I can," replied Paul. "I can find my way through the forest. No +one will venture to follow me there in the dark." + +Steinmetz hesitated, shrugged his shoulders, and went back into the +room. + +The ladies at Thors were dressed for dinner--were, indeed, awaiting the +announcement of that meal--when Paul broke in upon their solitude. He +did not pause to lay aside his furs, but went into the long, low room, +withdrawing his seal gloves painfully, for it was freezing as it only +can freeze in March. + +The countess assailed him with many questions, more or less sensible, +which he endured patiently until the servant had left the room. Catrina, +with flushed cheeks, stood looking at him, but said nothing. + +Paul withdrew his gloves and submitted to the countess' futile tugs at +his fur coat. Then Catrina spoke. + +"The Baron de Chauxville has left us," she said, without knowing exactly +why. + +For the moment Paul had forgotten Claude de Chauxville's existence. + +"I have news for you," he said; and he gently pushed the chattering +countess aside. "Stepan Lanovitch is at Osterno. He arrived to-night." + +"Ah, they have set him free, poor man! Does he wear chains on his +ankles--is his hair long? My poor Stepan! Ah, but what a stupid man!" + +The countess collapsed into a soft chair. She chose a soft one, +obviously. It has to be recorded here that she did not receive the news +with unmitigated joy. + +"When he was in Siberia," she gasped, "one knew at all events where he +was; and now, mon Dieu! what an anxiety!" + +"I have come over to see whether you will join him to-night and go with +him to America," said Paul, looking at her. + +"To--America--to-night! My dear Paul, are you mad? One cannot do such +things as that. America! that is across the sea." + +"Yes," answered Paul. + +"And I am such a bad sailor. Now, if it had been Paris----" + +"But it cannot be," interrupted Paul. "Will you join your father +to-night?" he added, turning to Catrina. + +The girl was looking at him with something in her eyes that he did not +care to meet. + +"And go to America?" she asked, in a lifeless voice. + +Paul nodded. + +Catrina turned suddenly away from him and walked to the fire, where she +stood with her back toward him--a small, uncouth figure in black and +green, the lamplight gleaming on her wonderful hair. She turned suddenly +again, and, coming back, stood looking into his face. + +"I will go," she said. "You think it best?" + +"Yes," he answered; "I think it best." + +She drew a sharp breath and was about to speak when the countess +interrupted her. + +"What!" she cried. "You are going away to-night like this, without any +luggage! And pray what is to become of me?" + +"You can join them in America," said Paul, in his quietest tone. "Or you +can live in Paris, at last." + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + + +DUTY + +It was not now a very cold night. There were fleecy clouds thrown like +puffs of smoke against the western sky. The moon, on the wane,--a small +crescent lying on its back,--was lowering toward the horizon. The +thermometer had risen since sunset, as it often does in March. There was +a suggestion of spring in the air. It seemed that at last the long +winter was drawing to a close; that the iron grip of frost was relaxing. + +Paul went out and inspected the harness by the light of a stable lantern +held in the mittened hand of a yemschick. He had reasons of his own for +absenting himself while Catrina bade her mother farewell. He was rather +afraid of these women. + +The harness inspected, he began reckoning how many hours of moonlight +might still be vouchsafed to him. The stableman, seeing the direction of +his gaze, began to talk of the weather and the possibilities of snow in +the near future. They conversed in low voices together. + +Presently the door opened and Catrina came quickly out, followed by a +servant carrying a small hand-bag. + +Paul could not see Catrina's face. She was veiled and furred to the +eyelids. Without a word the girl took her seat in the sleigh, and the +servant prepared the bear-skin rugs. Paul gathered up the reins and took +his place beside her. A few moments were required to draw up the rugs +and fasten them with straps; then Paul gave the word and the horses +leaped forward. + +As they sped down the avenue Catrina turned and looked her last on +Thors. + +Before long Paul wheeled into the trackless forest. He had come very +carefully, steering chiefly by the moon and stars, with occasional +assistance from a bend of the winding river. At times he had taken to +the ice, following the course of the stream for a few miles. No snow had +fallen; it would be easy to return on his own track. Through this part +of the forest no road was cut. + +For nearly half an hour they drove in silence. Only the whistle of the +iron-bound runners on the powdery snow, the creak of the warming leather +on the horses, the regular breathing of the team, broke the stillness of +the forest. Paul hoped against hope that Catrina was asleep. She sat by +his side, her arm touching his sleeve, her weight thrown against him at +such times as the sleigh bumped over a fallen tree or some inequality of +the ground. + +He could not help wondering what thoughts there were behind her silence. +Steinmetz's good-natured banter had come back to his memory, during the +last few days, in a new light. + +"Paul," said the woman at his side quite suddenly, breaking the silence +of the great forest where they had grown to life and sorrow almost side +by side. + +"Yes." + +"I want to know how this all came about. It is not my father's doing. +There is something quick, and practical, and wise which suggests you and +Herr Steinmetz. I suspect that you have done this--you and he--for our +happiness." + +"No," answered Paul; "it was mere accident. Your father heard of our +trouble in Kiew. You know him--always impulsive and reckless. He never +thinks of the danger. He came to help us." + +Catrina smiled wanly. + +"But it _is_ for our happiness, is it not, Paul? You know that it +is--that is why you have done it. I have not had time yet to realize +what I am doing, all that is going to happen. But if it is your doing, I +think I shall be content to abide by the result." + +"It is not my doing," replied Paul, who did not like her wistful tone. +"It is the outcome of circumstances. Circumstances have been ruling us +all lately. We seem to have no time to consider, but only to do that +which seems best for the moment." + +"And it is best that I should go to America with my father?" Her voice +was composed and quiet. In the dim light he could not see her white +lips; indeed, he never looked. + +"It seems so to me, undoubtedly," he said. "In doing this, so far as we +can see at present, it seems certain that you are saving your father +from Siberia. You know what he is; he never thinks of his own safety. He +ought never to have come here to-night. If he remains in Russia, it is +an absolute certainty that he will sooner or later be rearrested. He is +one of those good people who require saving from themselves." + +Catrina nodded. At times duty is the kedge-anchor of happiness. The girl +was dimly aware that she was holding to this. She was simple and +unsophisticated enough to consider Paul's opinion infallible. At the +great cross-roads of life we are apt to ask the way of any body who +happens to be near. Catrina might perhaps have made a worse choice of +counsel, for Paul was honest. + +"As you put it," she said, "it is clearly my duty. There is a sort of +consolation in that, however painful it may be at the time. I suppose it +is consolatory to look back and think that at all events one did one's +duty." + +"I don't know," answered Paul simply; "I suppose so." + +Looking back was not included in his method of life, which was rather +characterized by a large faith and a forward pressure. Whenever there +was question of considering life as an abstract, he drew within his +shell with a manlike shyness. He had no generalities ready for each +emergency. + +"Would father have gone alone?" she asked, with a very human thrill of +hope in her voice. + +"No," answered Paul steadily, "I think not. But you can ask him." + +They had never been so distant as they were at this moment--so cold, +such mere acquaintances. And they had played together in one nursery. + +"Of course, if that is the case," said the girl, "my duty is quite +clear." + +"It required some persuasion to make him consent to go, even with you," +said Paul. + +A rough piece of going--for there was no road--debarred further +conversation at this time. The sleigh rolled and bumped over one fallen +tree after another. Paul, with his feet stretched out, wedged firmly +into the sleigh, encouraged the tired horses with rein and voice. +Catrina was compelled to steady herself with both hands on the bar of +the apron; for the apron of a Russian sleigh is a heavy piece of leather +stretched on a wooden bar. + +"Then you think my duty is quite clear?" repeated the girl at length. + +Paul did not answer at once. + +"I am sure of it," he said. + +And there the question ended. Catrina Lanovitch, who had never been +ruled by those about her, shaped her whole life unquestioningly upon an +opinion. + +They did not speak for some time, and then it was the girl who broke the +silence. + +"I have a confession to make and a favor to ask," she said bluntly. + +Paul's attitude denoted attention, but he said nothing. + +"It is about the Baron de Chauxville," she said. + +"Ah!" + +"I am a coward," she went on. "I did not know it before. It is rather +humiliating. I have been trying for some weeks to tell you something, +but I am horribly afraid of it. I am afraid you will despise me. I have +been a fool--worse, perhaps. I never knew that Claude de Chauxville was +the sort of person he is. I allowed him to find out things about me +which he never should have known--my own private affairs, I mean. Then I +became frightened, and he tried to make use of me. I think he makes use +of every-body. _You_ know what he is." + +"Yes," answered Paul, "I know." + +"He hates you," she went on. "I do not want to make mischief, but I +suppose he wanted to marry the princess. His vanity was wounded because +she preferred you, and he wanted to be avenged upon you. Wounds to the +vanity never heal. I do not know how he did it, Paul, but he made me +help him in his schemes. I could have prevented you from going to the +bear hunt, for I suspected him then. I could have prevented my mother +from inviting him to Thors. I could have put a thousand difficulties in +his way, but I did not. I helped him. I told him about the people and +who were the worst--who had been influenced by the Nihilists and who +would not work. I allowed him to stay on here and carry out his plan. +All this trouble among the peasants is his handiwork. He has organized a +regular rising against you. He is horribly clever. He left us yesterday, +but I am convinced that he is in the neighborhood still." + +She stopped and reflected. There was something wanting in the story, +which she could not supply. It was a motive. A half-confession is almost +an impossibility. When we speak of ourselves it must be all or +nothing--preferably, nothing. + +"I do not know why I did it," she said. "It was a sort of period I went +through. I cannot explain." + +He did not ask her to do so. They were singularly like brother and +sister in their mental attitude. They had driven through twenty miles of +forest which belonged to one or other of them. Each was touched by the +intangible, inexplicable dignity that belongs to the possession of great +lands--to the inheritance of a great name. + +"That is the confession," she said. + +He gave a little laugh. + +"If none of us had worse than that upon our consciences," he answered, +"there would be little harm in the world, De Chauxville's schemes have +only hurried on a crisis which was foreordained. The progress of +humanity cannot be stayed. They have tried to stay it in this country. +They will go on trying until the crash comes. What is the favor you have +to ask?" + +"You must leave Osterno," she urged earnestly; "it is unsafe to delay +even a few hours. M. de Chauxville said there would be no danger. I +believed him then, but I do not now. Besides, I know the peasants. They +are hard to rouse, but once excited they are uncontrollable. They are +afraid of nothing. You must get away to-night." + +Paul made no answer. + +She turned slowly in her seat and looked into his face by the light of +the waning moon. + +"Do you mean that you will not go?" + +He met her glance with his grave, slow smile. + +"There is no question of going," he answered. "You must know that." + +She did not attempt to persuade. Perhaps there was something in his +voice which she as a Russian understood--a ring of that which we call +pig-headedness in others. + +"It must be splendid to be a man," she said suddenly, in a ringing +voice. "One feeling in me made me ask you the favor, while another was a +sense of gladness at your certain refusal. I wish I was a man. I envy +you. You do not know how I envy you, Paul." + +Paul gave a quiet laugh--such a laugh as one hears in the trenches after +the low hum of a passing ball. + +"If it is danger you want, you will have more than I in the next week," +he answered. "Steinmetz and I knew that you were the only woman in +Russia who could get your father safely out of the country. That is why +I came for you." + +The girl did not answer at once. They were driving on the road again +now, and the sleigh was running smoothly. + +"I suppose," she said reflectively at length, "that the secret of the +enormous influence you exercise over all who come in contact with you is +that you drag the best out of every one--the best that is in them." + +Paul did not answer. + +"What is that light?" she asked suddenly, laying her hand on the thick +fur of his sleeve. She was not nervous, but very watchful. +"There--straight in front." + +"It is the sleigh," replied Paul, "with your father and Steinmetz. I +arranged that they should meet us at the cross-roads. You must be at the +Volga before daylight. Send the horses on to Tver. I have given you +Minna and The Warrior; they can do the journey with one hour's rest, but +you must drive them." + +Catrina had swayed forward against the bar of the apron in a strange +way, for the road was quite smooth. She placed her gloved hands on the +bar and held herself upright with a peculiar effort. + +"What?" said Paul. For she had made an inarticulate sound. + +"Nothing," she answered. Then, after a pause, "I did not know that we +were to go so soon. That was all." + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + + +THE STORM BURSTS + +The large drawing-room was brilliantly lighted. Another weary day had +dragged to its close. It was the Tuesday evening--the last Tuesday in +March five years ago. The starosta had not been near the castle all day. +Steinmetz and Paul had never lost sight of the ladies since breakfast +time. They had not ventured out of doors. There was in the atmosphere a +sense of foreboding--the stillness of a crisis. Etta had been defiant +and silent--a dangerous humor--all day. Maggie had watched Paul's face +with steadfast, quiet eyes full of courage, but she knew now that there +was danger. + +The conversation at breakfast and luncheon had been maintained by +Steinmetz--always collected and a little humorous. It was now dinner +time. The whole castle was brilliantly lighted, as if for a great +assembly of guests. During the last week a fuller state--a greater +ceremony--had been observed by Paul's orders, and Steinmetz had thought +more than once of that historical event which appealed to his admiration +most--the Indian Mutiny. + +Maggie was in the drawing-room alone. She was leaning one hand and arm +on the mantel-piece, looking thoughtfully into the fire. The rustle of +silk made her turn her head. It was Etta, beautifully dressed, with a +white face and eyes dull with suspense. + +"I think it is warmer to-night," said Maggie, urged by a sudden +necessity of speech, hampered by a sudden chill at the heart. + +"Yes," answered Etta. And she shivered. + +For a moment there was a little silence and Etta looked at the clock. It +was ten minutes to seven. + +A high wind was blowing, the first of the equinoctial gales heralding +the spring. The sound of the wind in the great chimney was like the +moaning of high rigging at sea. + +The door opened and Steinmetz came in. Etta's face hardened, her lips +closed with a snap. Steinmetz looked at her and at Maggie. For once he +seemed to have no pleasantry ready for use. He walked toward a table +where some books and newspapers lay in pleasant profusion. He was +standing there when Paul came into the room. The prince glanced at +Maggie. He saw where his wife stood, but he did not look at her. + +Steinmetz was writing something on half a sheet of notepaper, in pencil. +He pushed it across the table toward Paul, who drew it nearer to him. + +"Are you armed?" were the written words. + +Paul crushed the paper in the hollow of his hand and threw it into the +fire, where it burned away. He also glanced at the clock. It was five +minutes to seven. + +Suddenly the door was thrown open and a manservant rushed in--pale, +confused, terror-stricken. He was a giant footman in the gorgeous livery +of the Alexis. + +"Excellency," he stammered in Russian, "the castle is surrounded--they +will kill us--they will burn us out----" + +He stopped abashed before Paul's pointing finger and stony face. + +"Leave the room!" said Paul. "You forget yourself." + +Through the open door-way to which Paul pointed peered the ashen faces +of other servants huddled together like sheep. + +"Leave the room!" repeated Paul, and the man obeyed him, walking to the +door unsteadily with quivering chin. On the threshold he paused. Paul +stood pointing to the door. He had a poise of the head--some sudden +awakening of the blood that had coursed in the veins of hereditary +potentates. Maggie looked at him; she had never known him like this. She +had known the man, she had never encountered the prince. + +The big clock over the castle boomed out the hour, and at the same +instant there arose a roar like the voice of the surf on a Malabar +shore. There was a crashing of glass almost in the room itself. Already +Steinmetz was drawing the curtains closer over the windows in order to +prevent the light from filtering through the interstices of the closed +shutters. + +"Only stones," he said to Paul, with his grim smile; "it might have been +bullets." + +As if in corroboration of his suggestion the sharp ring of more than one +fire-arm rang out above the dull roar of many voices. + +Steinmetz crossed the room to where Etta was standing, white-lipped, by +the fire. Her clenched hand was gripping Maggie's wrist. She was half +hidden behind her cousin. Maggie was looking at Paul. Etta was obviously +conscious of Steinmetz's gaze and approach. + +"I asked you before to tell me all you knew," he said. "You refused. +Will you do it now?" + +Etta met his glance for a moment, shrugged her shoulders, and turned her +back on him. Paul was standing in the open door-way with his back turned +toward them--alone. The palace had never looked so vast as it did at +that moment--brilliantly lighted, gorgeous, empty. + +Through the hail of blows on the stout doors, the rattle of stones at +the windows, the prince could hear yells of execration and the wild +laughter that is bred of destruction. He turned and entered the room. +His face was gray and terrible. + +"They have no chance," he said, "of effecting an entrance by force; the +lower windows are barred. They have no ladders, Steinmetz and I have +seen to that. We have been expecting this for some days." + +He turned toward Steinmetz as if seeking confirmation. The din was +increasing. When the German spoke he had to shout. + +"We can beat them back if we like. We can shoot them down from the +windows. But"--he paused, shrugged his shoulders, and laughed--"what +will you! This prince will not shoot his father's serfs." + +"We must leave you," went on Paul. "We must beware of treachery. +Whatever happens, we shall not leave the house. If the worst comes, we +make our last stand in this room. Whatever happens, stay here till we +come." + +He left the room, followed by Steinmetz. There were only three doors in +the impregnable stone walls; the great entrance, a side door for use in +times of deep snow, and the small concealed entrance by which the +starosta was in the habit of reaching his masters. + +For a moment the two men stood at the head of the stairs listening to +the wild commotion. They were turning to descend the state stairs when a +piercing shriek, immediately drowned by a yell of triumph, broke the +silence of the interior of the castle. There was a momentary stillness, +followed by another shriek. + +"They are in!" said Steinmetz. "The side door." + +And the two men looked at each other with wide eyes full of knowledge. + +As they ran to the foot of the broad staircase the tramp of scuffling +feet, the roar of angry voices, came through the passages from the back +of curtained doorways. The servants' quarters seemed to be pandemonium. +The sounds approached. + +"Half-way up!" said Paul, and they ran half-way up the broad staircase +side by side. There they stood and waited. + +In a moment the baize doors were burst open, and a scuffling mass of men +and women poured into the hall--a very sewer of humanity. + +A yell of execration signalized their recognition of the prince. + +"They are mad!" said Steinmetz, as the crowd surged forward toward the +stairs with waving arms and the dull gleam of steel; with wild faces +turned upward, wild mouths bellowing hatred and murder. + +"It is a chance--it may stop them!" said Steinmetz. + +His arm was outstretched steadily. A loud report, a little puff of smoke +shooting upward to the gilded ceiling, and for one brief moment the +crowd stood still, watching one of their ringleaders, who was turning +and twisting on his side half a dozen steps from the bottom. + +The man writhed in silence with his hand to his breast, and the crowd +stood aghast. He held up his hand and gazed at it with a queer +stupefaction. The blood dripped from his fingers. Then his chin went up +as if some one was gripping the back of his neck. He turned over slowly +and rolled to the bottom of the stairs. + +Then Paul raised his voice. + +"Listen to me!" he said. + +But he got no farther, for some one shot at him from the background, +over the frantic heads of the others, and missed him. The bullet lodged +in the wall at the head of the stairs, in the jamb of the gorgeous +door-way. It is there to-day. + +There was a yell of hatred, and an ugly charge toward the stairs; but +the sight of the two revolvers held them there--motionless for a few +moments. Those in front pushed back, while the shouters in the safe +background urged them forward by word and gesture. + +Two men holding a hundred in check! But one of the two was a prince, +which makes all the difference, and will continue to make that +difference, despite halfpenny journalism, until the end of the world. + +"What do you want?" cried Paul. + +"Oh, I will wait!" he shouted, in the next pause. "There is plenty of +time--when you are tired of shouting." + +Several of them proceeded to tell him what they wanted. An old story, +too stale for repetition here. Paul recognized in the din of many voices +the tinkling arguments of the professional agitator all the world +over--the cry of "Equality! Equality!" when men are obviously created +unequal. + +"Look out!" said Paul; "I believe they are going to make a rush." + +All the while the foremost men were edging toward the stairs, while the +densely packed throng at the back were struggling among themselves. In +the passages behind, some were yelling and screaming with a wild +intonation which Steinmetz recognized. He had been through the Commune. + +"Those fellows at the back have been killing some one," he said; "I can +tell by their voices. They are drunk with the sight of blood." + +Some new orator gained the ears of the rabble at this moment, and the +ill-kempt heads swayed from side to side. + +"It is useless," he cried, "telling him what you want. He will not give +it you. Go and take it! Go and take it, little fathers; that is the only +way!" + +Steinmetz raised his hand and peered down into the crowd, looking for +the man of eloquence, and the voice was hushed. + +At this moment, however, the yelling increased, and through the door-way +leading to the servants' quarters came a stream of men--bloodstained, +ragged, torn. They were waving arms and implements above their heads. + +"Down with the aristocrats! kill them--kill them!" they were shrieking. + +A little volley of fire-arms further excited them. But vodka is not a +good thing to shoot upon, and Paul stood untouched, waiting, as he had +said, until they were tired of shouting. + +"Now," yelled Steinmetz to him in English, "we must go. We can make a +stand at the head of the stairs, then the door-way, then----" He +shrugged his shoulders. "Then--the end," he added, as they moved up the +stairs step by step, backward. "My very good friend," he went on, "at +the door we must begin to shoot them down. It is our only chance. It is, +moreover, our duty toward the ladies." + +"There is one alternative," answered Paul. + +"The Moscow Doctor?" + +"Yes." + +"They may turn," said Paul; "they are just in that humor." + +The new-comers were the most dangerous. They were forcing their way to +the front. There was no doubt that, as soon as they could penetrate the +densely packed mob, they would charge up the stairs, even in face of a +heavy fire. The reek of vodka was borne up in the heated atmosphere, +mingled with the nauseating odor of filthy clothing. + +"Go," said Steinmetz, "and put on your doctor's clothes. I can keep them +back for a few minutes." + +There was no time to be lost. Paul slipped away, leaving Steinmetz alone +at the summit of the state stairway, standing grimly, revolver in hand. + +In the drawing-room Paul found Maggie, alone. + +"Where is Etta?" he asked. + +"She left the room some time ago." + +"But I told her to stay," said Paul. + +To this Maggie made no answer. She was looking at him with an anxious +scrutiny. + +"Did they shoot at you?" she asked. + +"Yes; but not straight," he answered, with a little laugh, as he hurried +on. + +In a few moments he was back in the drawing-room, a different man, in +the rough, stained clothes of the Moscow Doctor. The din on the stairs +was louder. Steinmetz was almost in the door-way. He was shooting +economically, picking his men. + +With an effort Paul dragged one or two heavy pieces of furniture across +the room, in the form of a rough barricade. He pointed to the hearthrug +where Maggie was to stand. + +"Ready!" he shouted to Steinmetz. "Come!" + +The German ran in, and Paul closed the barricade. + +The rabble poured in at the open door, screaming and shouting. +Bloodstained, ragged, wild with the madness of murder, they crowded to +the barricade. There they stopped, gazing stupidly at Paul. + +"The Moscow Doctor--the Moscow Doctor!" passed from lip to lip. It was +the women who shouted it the loudest. Like the wind through a forest it +swept out of the room and down the stairs. Those crowding up pushed on +and uttered the words as they came. The room was packed with them. + +"Yes!" shouted Steinmetz, at the top of his great voice, "and the +prince!" + +He knew the note to strike, and struck with a sure hand. The barricade +was torn aside, and the people swept forward, falling on their knees, +grovelling at Paul's feet, kissing the hem of his garment, seizing his +strong hands in theirs. + +It was a mighty harvest. That which is sown in the people's hearts bears +a thousandfold at last. + +"Get them out of the place--open the big doors," said Paul to Steinmetz. +He stood cold and grave among them. + +Some of them were already sneaking toward the door--the ringleaders, the +talkers from the towns--mindful of their own necks in this change of +feeling. + +Steinmetz hustled them out, bidding them take their dead with them. Some +of the servants reappeared, peeping, white-faced, behind curtains. When +the last villager had crossed the threshold, these ran forward to close +and bar the great doors. + +"No," said Paul, from the head of the stairs, "leave them open." + +So the great doors stood defiantly open. The lights of the state +staircase flared out over the village as the peasants crept crest-fallen +to their cottages. They glanced up shamefacedly, but they had no word to +say. + +Steinmetz, in the drawing-room, looked at Paul with his resigned +semi-humorous shrug of the shoulders. + +"Touch-and-go, mein lieber!" he said. + +"Yes; an end of Russia for us," answered the prince. + +He moved toward the door leading through to the old castle. + +"I am going to look for Etta," he said. + +"And I," said Steinmetz, going to the other entrance, "am going to see +who opened the side door." + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII + + +BEHIND THE VEIL + +"Will you come with me?" said Paul to Maggie. "I will send the servants +to put this room to rights." + +Maggie followed him out of the room, and together they went through the +passages, calling Etta and looking for her. There was an air of gloom +and chilliness in the rooms of the old castle. The outline of the great +stones, dimly discernible through the wall-paper, was singularly +suggestive of a fortress thinly disguised. + +"I suppose," said Paul, "that Etta lost her nerve." + +"Yes," answered Maggie doubtfully; "I think it was that." + +Paul went on. He carried a lamp in one steady hand. + +"We shall probably find her in one of these rooms," he said. "It is so +easy to lose one's self among the passages and staircases." + +They passed on through the great smoking-room, with its hunting +trophies. The lynx, with its face of Claude de Chauxville, grinned at +them darkly from its pedestal. + +Half-way down the stairs leading to the side door they met Steinmetz +coming hastily up. His face was white and drawn with horror. + +"You must not go down here," he said, in a husky voice, barring the +passage with his arm. + +"Why not?" + +"Go up again!" said Steinmetz breathlessly. "You must not go down here." + +Paul laid his hand on the broad arm stretched across the stairway. For a +moment it almost appeared to be a physical struggle, then Steinmetz +stepped aside. + +"I beg of you," he said, "not to go down." + +And Paul went on, followed by Steinmetz, and behind them, Maggie. At the +foot of the stairs a broader passage led to the side door, and from this +other passages opened into the servants' quarters, and communicated +through the kitchens with the modern building. + +It was evident that the door leading to the grassy slope at the back of +the castle was open, for a cold wind blew up the stairs and made the +lamps flicker. + +At the end of the passage Paul stopped. + +Steinmetz was a little behind him, holding Maggie back. + +The two lamps lighted up the passage and showed the white form of the +Princess Etta lying huddled up against the wall. The face was hidden, +but there was no mistaking the beautiful dress and hair. It could only +be Etta. Paul stooped down and looked at her, but he did not touch her. +He went a few paces forward and closed the door. Beyond Etta a black +form lay across the passage, all trodden underfoot and dishevelled. Paul +held the lamp down, and through the mud and blood Claude de Chauxville's +clear-cut features were outlined. + +Death is always unmistakable, though it be shown by nothing more than a +heap of muddy clothes. + +Claude de Chauxville was lying across the passage. He had been trodden +underfoot by the stream of maddened peasants who had entered by this +door which had been opened for them, whom Steinmetz had checked at the +foot of the stairs by shooting their ringleader. + +De Chauxville's scalp was torn away by a blow, probably given with a +spade or some blunt instrument. His hand, all muddy and bloodstained, +still held a revolver. + +The other hand was stretched out toward Etta, who lay across his feet, +crouching against the wall. Death had found and left her in an attitude +of fear, shielding her bowed head from a blow with her upraised hands. +Her loosened hair fell in a long wave of gold down to the bloodstained +hand outstretched toward her. She was kneeling in De Chauxville's blood, +which stained the stone floor of the passage. + +Paul leaned forward and laid his fingers on the bare arm, just below a +bracelet which gleamed in the lamplight. She was quite dead. He held a +lamp close to her. There was no mark or scratch upon her arm or +shoulder. The blow which had torn her hair down had killed her without +any disfigurement. The silken skirt of her dress, which lay across the +passage, was trampled and stained by the tread of a hundred feet. + +Then Paul went to Claude de Chauxville. He stooped down and slipped his +skilled fingers inside the torn and mud-stained clothing. Here also was +death. + +Paul stood upright and looked at them as they lay, silent, motionless, +with their tale untold. Maggie and Steinmetz stood watching him. He went +to the door, which was of solid oak four inches thick, and examined the +fastenings. There had been no damage done to bolt, or lock, or hinge. +The door had been opened from the inside. He looked slowly round, +measuring the distances. + +"What is the meaning of it?" he said at length to Steinmetz, in a dull +voice. Maggie winced at the sound of it. + +Steinmetz did not answer at once, but hesitated--after the manner of a +man weighing words which will never be forgotten by their hearers. + +"It seems to me," he said, with a slow, wise charity, the best of its +kind, "quite clear that De Chauxville died in trying to save her--the +rest must be only guesswork." + +Maggie had come forward and was standing beside him. + +"And in guessing let us be charitable--is it not so?" he said, turning +to her, with a twist of his humorous lips. + +"I suppose," he went on, after a little pause, "that Claude de +Chauxville has been at the bottom of all our trouble. All his life he +has been one of the stormy petrels of diplomacy. Wherever he has gone +trouble has followed later. By some means he obtained sufficient mastery +over the princess to compel her to obey his orders. The means he +employed were threats. He had it in his power to make mischief, and in +such affairs a woman is so helpless that we may well forgive that which +she may do in a moment of panic. I imagine that he frightened the poor +lady into obedience to his command that she should open this door. +Before dinner, when we were all in the drawing-room, I noted a little +mark of dust on the white silk skirt of her dress. At the time I thought +only that her maid had been careless. Perhaps you noticed it, +mademoiselle? Ladies note such things." + +He turned to Maggie, who nodded her head. + +"That," he went on, "was the dust of these old passages. She had been +down here. She had opened this door." + +He spread out his hands in deprecation. In his quaint Germanic way he +held one hand out over the two motionless forms in mute prayer that they +might be forgiven. + +"We all have our faults," he said. "Who are we to judge each other? If +we understood all, we might pardon. The two strongest human motives are +ambition and fear. She was ruled by both. I myself have seen her under +the influence of sudden panic. I have noted the working of her great +ambition. She was probably deceived at every turn by that man, who was a +scoundrel. He is dead, and death is understood to wipe out all debts. If +I were a better man than I am, I might speak well of him. But--ach Gott! +that man was a scoundrel! I think the good God will judge between them +and forgive that poor woman. She must have repented of her action when +she heard the clatter of the rioters all round the castle. I am sure she +did that. I am sure she came down here to shut the door, and found +Claude de Chauxville here. They were probably talking together when the +poor mad fools who killed them came round to this side of the castle and +found them. They recognized her as the princess. They probably mistook +him for the prince. It is what men call a series of coincidences. I +wonder what God calls it?" + +He broke off, and, stooping down, he drew the lapel of the Frenchman's +cloak gently over the marred face. + +"And let us remember," he said, "that he tried to save her. Some lives +are so. At the very end a little reparation is made. In life he was her +evil genius. When he died they trampled him underfoot in order to reach +her. Mademoiselle, will you come?" + +He took Maggie by the arm and led her gently away. She was shaking all +over, but his hand was steady and wholly kind. + +He led her up the narrow stairs to her own room. In the little boudoir +the fire was burning brightly; the lamps were lighted, just as the maid +had left them at the first alarm. + +Maggie sat down, and quite suddenly she burst into tears. + +Steinmetz did not leave her. He stood beside her, gently stroking her +shoulder with his stout fingers. He said nothing, but the gray mustache +only half concealed his lips, which were twisted with a little smile +full of tenderness and sympathy. + +Maggie was the first to speak. + +"I am all right now," she said. "Please do not wait any longer, and do +not think me a very weak-minded person. Poor Etta!" + +Steinmetz moved away toward the door. + +"Yes," he said; "poor Etta! It is often those who get on in the world +who need the world's pity most." + +At the door he stopped. + +"To-morrow," he said, "I will take you home to England. Is that +agreeable to you, mademoiselle?" + +She smiled at him sadly through her tears. + +"Yes, I should like that," she said. "This country is horrible. You are +very kind to me." + +Steinmetz went down stairs and found Paul at the door talking to a young +officer, who slowly dismounted and lounged into the hall, conscious of +his brilliant uniform--of his own physical capacity to show off any +uniform to full advantage. + +He was a lieutenant in a Cossack regiment, and as he bowed to Steinmetz, +whom Paul introduced, he swung off his high astrakhan cap with a +flourish, showing a fair boyish face. + +"Yes," he continued to Paul in English; "the general sent me over with a +sotnia of men, and pretty hungry you will find them. We have covered the +whole distance since daybreak. A report reached the old gentleman that +the whole countryside was about to rise against you." + +"Who spread the report?" asked Steinmetz. + +"I believe it originated down at the wharfs. It has been traced to an +old man and his daughter,--a sort of pedler, I think, who took a passage +down the river,--but where they heard the rumor I don't know." + +Paul and Steinmetz carefully avoided looking at each other. They knew +that Catrina and Stepan Lanovitch had sent back assistance. + +"Of course," said Paul, "I am very glad to see you, but I am equally +glad to inform you that you are not wanted. Steinmetz will tell you all +about it, and when you are ready for dinner it will be ready for you. I +will give instructions that the men be cared for." + +"Thanks. The funny thing is that I am instructed, with your approval, to +put the place under martial law and take charge." + +"That will not be necessary, thanks," answered Paul, going out of the +open door to speak to the wild-looking Cossacks sent for his protection. + +In Russia, as in other countries where life is cheaply held, the death +formalities are small. It is only in England, where we are so careful +for the individual and so careless of the type, that we have to pay for +dying, and leave a mass of red-tape formalities for our friends. + +While the young officer was changing his uniform for the evening finery +which his servant's forethought had provided, Paul and Steinmetz +hurriedly arranged what story of the evening should be given to the +world. Knowing the country as they did, they were enabled to tell a true +tale, which was yet devoid of that small personal interest that gossips +love. And all the world ever knew was that the Princess Howard Alexis +was killed by the revolted peasants while attempting to escape by a side +door, and that the Baron Claude de Chauxville, who was staying in the +neighborhood, met his death in attempting to save her from the fury of +the mob. + +On the recommendation of Karl Steinmetz, Paul placed the castle and +village under martial law, and there and then gave the command to the +young Cossack officer, pending further instructions from his general, +commanding at Tver. + +The officer dined with Steinmetz, and under the careful treatment of +that diplomatist inaugurated a reign of military autocracy, which varied +pleasingly between strict discipline and boyish neglect. + +Before the master of the situation had slept off the effect of his +hundred-mile ride and a heavy dinner, the next morning Steinmetz and +Maggie were ready to start on their journey to England. + +The breakfast was served in the room abutting on the cliff in the dim +light of a misty morning. + +The lamps were alight on the table, and Paul was waiting when Maggie +came down cloaked for her journey. Steinmetz had breakfasted. + +They said good-morning, and managed to talk of ordinary things until +Maggie was supplied with coffee and toast and a somewhat heavy, manly +helping of a breakfast-dish. Then came a silence. + +Paul broke it at length with an effort, standing, as it were, on the +edge of the forbidden topic. + +"Steinmetz will take you all the way," he said, "and then come back to +me. You can safely trust yourself to his care." + +"Yes," answered the girl, looking at the food set before her with a +helpless stare. "It is not that. Can I safely trust Etta's memory to +your judgment? You are very stern, Paul. I think you might easily +misjudge her. Men do not always understand a woman's temptations." + +Paul had not sat down. He walked away to the window, and stood there +looking out into the gloomy mists. + +"It is not because she was my cousin," said Maggie from the table; "it +is because she was a woman leaving her memory to be judged by two men +who are both--hard." + +Paul neither looked round nor answered. + +"When a woman has to form her own life, and renders it a prominent one, +she usually makes a huge mistake of it," said the girl. + +She waited a moment, and then she pleaded once more, hastily, for she +heard a step approaching. + +"If you only understood every thing you might think differently--it is +because you cannot understand." + +Then Paul turned round slowly. + +"No," he said, "I cannot understand it, and I do not think that I ever +shall." + +And Steinmetz came into the room. + +In a few minutes the sleigh bearing Steinmetz and Maggie disappeared +into the gloom, closely followed by a couple of Cossacks acting as guard +and carrying despatches. + +So Etta Sydney Bamborough--the Princess Howard Alexis--came back after +all to her husband, lying in a nameless grave in the churchyard by the +Volga at Tver. Within the white walls--beneath the shadow of the great +spangled cupola--they await the Verdict, almost side by side. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV + + +KISMET + +Between Brandon in Suffolk and Thetford in Norfolk runs a quiet river, +the Little Ouse, where few boats break the stillness of the water. On +either bank stand whispering beech-trees, and so low is the music of the +leaves that the message of Ely's distant bells floats through them on a +quiet evening as far as Brandon and beyond it. + +Three years after Etta's death, in the glow of an April sunset, a +Canadian canoe was making its stealthy way up the river. The paddle +crept in and out so gently, so lazily and peacefully, that the dabchicks +and other waterfowl did not cease their chatter of nests and other April +matters as the canoe glided by. + +So quiet, indeed, was its progress that Karl Steinmetz--suddenly +white-headed, as strong old men are apt to find themselves--did not heed +its approach. He was sitting on the bank with a gun, a little rifle, +lying on the grass beside him. He was half-asleep in the enjoyment of a +large Havana cigar. The rays of the setting sun, peeping through the +lower branches, made him blink lazily like a large, good-natured cat. + +He turned his head slowly, with a hunter's consciousness of the approach +of some one, and contemplated the canoe with a sense of placid +satisfaction. + +The small craft was passing in the shadow of a great tree--stealing over +the dark, unruffled depth. A girl dressed in white, with a large +diaphanous white hat and a general air of brisk English daintiness, was +paddling slowly and with no great skill. + +"A picture," said Steinmetz to himself with Teutonic deliberation. "Gott +im Himmel! what a pretty picture to make an old man young!" + +Then his gray eyes opened suddenly and he rose to his feet. + +"Coloss-a-al!" he muttered. He dragged from his head a lamentable old +straw hat and swept a courteous bow. + +"Mademoiselle," he said, "ah, what happiness! After three years!" + +Maggie stopped and looked at him with troubled eyes; all the color +slowly left her face. + +"What are you doing here?" she asked. And there was something like fear +in her voice. + +"No harm, mademoiselle, but good. I have come down from big game to +vermin. I have here a saloon rifle. I wait till a water-rat comes, and +then I shoot him." + +The canoe had drifted closer to the land, the paddle trailing in the +water. + +"You are looking at my white hairs," he went on, in a sudden need of +conversation. "Please bring your boat a little nearer." + +The paddle twisted lazily in the water like a fish's tail. + +"Hold tight," he said, reaching down. + +With a little laugh he lifted the canoe and its occupant far up on to +the bank. + +"Despite my white hairs," he said, with a tap of both hands on his broad +chest. + +"I attach no importance to them," she answered, taking his proffered +hand and stepping over the light bulwark. "I have gray ones myself. I am +getting old too." + +"How old?" he asked, looking down at her with his old bluntness. + +"Twenty-eight." + +"Ah, they are summers," he said; "mine have turned to winters. Will you +sit here where I was sitting? See, I will spread this rug for your white +dress." + +Maggie paused, looking through the trees toward the sinking sun. The +light fell on her face and showed one or two lines which had not been +there before. It showed a patient tenderness in the steady eyes which +had always been there--which Catrina had noticed in the stormy days that +were past. + +"I cannot stay long," she replied. "I am with the Faneaux at Brandon for +a few days. They dine at seven." + +"Ah! her ladyship is a good friend of mine. You remember her charity +ball in town, when it was settled that you should come to Osterno. A +strange world, mademoiselle--a very strange world, so small, and yet so +large and bare for some of us!" + +Maggie looked at him. Then she sat down. + +"Tell me," she said, "all that has happened since then." + +"I went back," answered Steinmetz, "and we were duly exiled from Russia. +It was sure to come. We were too dangerous. Altogether too quixotic for +an autocracy. For myself I did not mind, but it hurt Paul." + +There was a little pause, while the water lapped and whispered at their +feet. + +"I heard," said Maggie at length, in a measured voice, "that he had gone +abroad for big game." + +"Yes--to India." + +"He did not go to America?" enquired Maggie indifferently. She was idly +throwing fragments of wood into the river. + +"No," answered Steinmetz, looking straight in front of him. "No, he did +not go to America." + +"And you?" + +"I--oh, I stayed at home. I have taken a house. It is behind the trees. +You cannot see it. I live at peace with all men and pay my bills every +week. Sometimes Paul comes and stays with me. Sometimes I go and stay +with him in London or in Scotland. I smoke and shoot water-rats, and +watch the younger generation making the same mistakes that we made in +our time. You have heard that my country is in order again? They have +remembered me. For my sins they have made me a count. Bon Dieu! I do not +mind. They may make me a prince, if it pleases them." + +He was watching her face beneath his grim old eyebrows. + +"These details bore you," he said. + +"No." + +"When Paul and I are together we talk of a new heaven and a new Russia. +But it will not come in our time. We are only the sowers, and the +harvest is not yet. But I tell Paul that he has not sown wild oats, nor +sour grapes, nor thistles." + +He paused, and the expression of his face changed to one of +semi-humorous gravity. + +"Mademoiselle," he went on, "it has been my lot to love the prince like +a son. It has been my lot to stand helplessly by while he passed through +many troubles. Perhaps the good God gave him all his troubles at first. +Do you think so?" + +Maggie was looking straight in front of her across the quiet river. + +"Perhaps so," she said. + +Steinmetz also stared in front of him during a little silence. The +common thoughts of two minds may well be drawn together by the +contemplation of a common object. Then he turned toward her. + +"It will be a happiness for him to see you," he said quietly. + +Maggie ceased breaking small branches and throwing them into the river. +She ceased all movement, and scarcely seemed to breathe. + +"What do you mean?" she asked. + +"He is staying with me here." + +Maggie glanced toward the canoe. She drew a short, sharp breath, but she +did not move. + +"Mademoiselle," said Steinmetz earnestly, "I am an old man, and in my +time I have dabbled pretty deeply in trouble. But taking it all around, +even my life has had its compensations. And I have seen lives which, +taken as a mere mortal existence, without looking to the hereafter at +all, have been quite worth the living. There is much happiness in life +to make up for the rest. But that happiness must be firmly held. It is +so easily slipped through the fingers. A little irresolution--a little +want of moral courage--a little want of self-confidence--a little pride, +and it is lost. You follow me?" + +Maggie nodded. There was a great tenderness in her eyes--such a +tenderness as, resting on men, may bring them nearer to the angels. + +Steinmetz laid his large hand over hers. + +"Mademoiselle," he went on, "I believe that the good God sent you along +this lonely river in your boat. Paul leaves me to-morrow. His +arrangements are to go to India and shoot tigers. He will sail in a +week. There are things of which we never speak together--there is one +name that is never mentioned. Since Osterno you have avoided meeting +him. God knows I am not asking for him any thing that he would be afraid +to ask for himself. But he also has his pride. He will not force himself +in where he thinks his presence unwelcome." + +Steinmetz rose somewhat ponderously and stood looking down at her. He +did not, however, succeed in meeting her eyes. + +"Mademoiselle," he said, "I beg of you most humbly--most +respectfully--to come through the garden with me toward the house, so +that Paul may at least know that you are here." + +He moved away and stood for a moment with his back turned to her, +looking toward the house. The crisp rustle of her dress came to him as +she rose to her feet. + +Without looking round, he walked slowly on. The path through the trees +was narrow, two could not walk abreast. After a few yards Steinmetz +emerged on to a large, sloping lawn with flower beds, and a long, low +house above it. On the covered terrace a man sat writing at a table. He +was surrounded by papers, and the pen in his large, firm hand moved +rapidly over the sheet before him. + +"We still administer the estate," said Steinmetz, in a low voice. "From +our exile we still sow our seed." + +They approached over the mossy turf, and presently Paul looked up--a +strong face, stern and self-contained; the face of a man who would +always have a purpose in life, who would never be petty in thought or +deed. + +For a moment he did not seem to recognize them. Then he rose, and the +pen fell on the flags of the terrace. + +"It is mademoiselle!" said Steinmetz, and no other word was spoken. + +Maggie walked on in a sort of unconsciousness. She only knew that they +were all acting an inevitable part, written for them in the great +libretto of life. She never noticed that Steinmetz had left her side, +that she was walking across the lawn alone. + +Paul came to meet her, and took her hand in silence. There was so much +to say that words seemed suddenly valueless; there was so little to say +that they were unnecessary. + +For that which these two had to tell each other cannot be told in +minutes, nor yet in years; it cannot even be told in a lifetime, for it +is endless, and it runs through eternity. + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sowers, by Henry Seton Merriman + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOWERS *** + +***** This file should be named 10132.txt or 10132.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/1/3/10132/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Christine Gehring and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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