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+Project Gutenberg's A Cigarette-Maker's Romance, by F. Marion Crawford
+
+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: A Cigarette-Maker's Romance
+
+Author: F. Marion Crawford
+
+Release Date: June 22, 2006 [EBook #18651]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CIGARETTE-MAKER'S ROMANCE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+A CIGARETTE-MAKER'S ROMANCE
+
+BY
+F. MARION CRAWFORD
+AUTHOR OF "MR. ISAACS," "DR. CLAUDIUS," "A ROMAN SINGER" ETC.
+
+New York
+MACMILLAN AND CO.
+AND LONDON
+1894
+
+All rights reserved
+
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+Copyright, 1890,
+By F. MARION CRAWFORD
+
+Set up and electrotyped May, 1893. Reprinted July, 1894.
+
+Norwood Press:
+J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith.
+Boston, Mass., U.S.A.
+
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAPTER I.                                      1
+CHAPTER II.                                    25
+CHAPTER III.                                   48
+CHAPTER IV.                                    72
+CHAPTER V.                                     96
+CHAPTER VI.                                   121
+CHAPTER VII.                                  145
+CHAPTER VIII.                                 168
+CHAPTER IX.                                   191
+CHAPTER X.                                    214
+CHAPTER XI.                                   240
+CHAPTER XII.                                  264
+
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+
+
+
+A CIGARETTE-MAKER'S ROMANCE.
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+The inner room of a tobacconist's shop is not perhaps the spot which a
+writer of fiction would naturally choose as the theatre of his play, nor
+does the inventor of pleasant romances, of stirring incident, or moving
+love-tales feel himself instinctively inclined to turn to Munich as to the
+city of his dreams. On the other hand, it is by no means certain that, if
+the choice of a stage for our performance were offered to the most
+contented among us, we should be satisfied to speak our parts and go
+through our actor's business upon the boards of this world. Some would
+prefer to take their properties, their player's crowns and robes, their
+aspiring expressions and their finely expressed aspirations before the
+audience of a larger planet; others, perhaps the majority, would choose,
+with more humility as well as with more common sense, the shadowy scenery,
+the softer footlights and the less exigent public of a modest asteroid,
+beyond the reach of our earthly haste, of our noisy and unclean high-roads
+to honour, of our furious chariot races round the goals of fame, and,
+especially, beyond the reach of competition. But we have no choice. We are
+in the world and, before we know where we are, we are on one of the paths
+which we must traverse in our few score years between birth and death.
+Moreover, each man's path leads up to the theatre on the one side and down
+from it on the other. The inexorable manager, Fate, requires that each
+should go through with his comedy or his drama, if he be judged worthy of
+a leading part, with his scene or his act in another man's piece, if he be
+fit only to play the walking gentleman, the dumb footman, or the
+mechanically trained supernumerary who does duty by turns as soldier,
+sailor, courtier, husbandman, conspirator or red-capped patriot. A few
+play well, many play badly, all must appear and the majority are feebly
+applauded and loudly hissed. He counts himself great who is received with
+such an uproar of clapping and shout of approval as may drown the voice of
+the discontented; he is called fortunate who, having missed his cue and
+broken down in his words, makes his exit in the triumphant train of the
+greater actor upon whom all eyes are turned; he is deemed happy who,
+having offended no man, is allowed to depart in peace upon his downward
+road. Yet none of these players need pride themselves much upon their
+success nor take to heart their failure. Long before most of them have
+slipped into the grave which waits at the foot of the hill, and have been
+wrapped comfortably in the pleasant earth, their names are forgotten by
+those who screamed with pleasure or hooted in disgust at their
+performance, their faces are no longer remembered, their great drama is
+become an old-fashioned mummery of the past. Why should they care? Their
+work is done, they have been rewarded or punished, paid with praise and
+gold or mulcted in the sum of their reputation and estate. Famous or
+infamous, in honour or in disrepute, in riches or in poverty, they have
+reached the end of their time, they are worn out, the world will have no
+more of them, they are worthless in the price-scale of men, they must be
+buried out of sight and they will be forgotten out of mind. The beginning
+is the same for all, and the end also, and as for the future, who shall
+tell us upon what basis of higher intelligence our brief passage across
+the stage is to be judged? Why then should the present trouble our vanity
+so greatly? And if our play is of so little importance, why should we care
+whether the scenery is romantic instead of commonplace, or why should we
+make furious efforts to shift a Gothic castle, a drawbridge, a moat and a
+waterfall into the slides occupied by the four walls of a Munich
+tobacconist's shop?
+
+There is not even anything especial in the appearance of the place to
+recommend it to the ready pen of the word-painter. It is an establishment
+of very modest pretensions situated in one of the side streets leading to
+a great thoroughfare. As we are in Munich, however, the side street is
+broad and clean, the pavement is well swept and the adjoining houses have
+an air of solid respectability and wealth. At the point where the street
+widens to an irregular shape on the downward slope there is a neat little
+iron kiosque completely covered with brilliant advertisements, printed in
+black Gothic letters upon red and yellow paper. The point of vivid colour
+is not disagreeable, for it relieves the neutral tints of brick and brown
+stone, and arrests the eye, long wearied with the respectable parade of
+buildings. The tobacconist's shop is, indeed, the most shabby, or, to
+speak more correctly, the least smartly new among its fellow-shops,
+wherein dwell, in consecutive order, a barber, a watchmaker, a
+pastry-cook, a shoemaker and a colour-man. In spite of its unattractive
+exterior, however, the establishment of "Christian Fischelowitz, from
+South Russia," enjoys a very considerable reputation. Within the high,
+narrow shop there is good store of rare tobaccos, from the mild Kir to the
+Imperial Samson, the aromatic Dubec and the pungent Swary. The dusty
+window beside the narrow door exhibits, it is true, only a couple of tall,
+dried tobacco plants set in flower-pots, a carelessly arranged collection
+of cedar and pasteboard boxes for cigars and cigarettes, and a
+fantastically constructed Swiss cottage, built entirely of cigarettes and
+fine cut yellow leaf, with little pieces of glass set in for windows. This
+effort of architecture is in a decidedly ruinous condition, the little
+stuffed paper cylinders are ragged and torn, some of them show signs of
+detaching themselves from the cardboard frame upon which they are pasted,
+and the dust of years has accumulated upon the bit of painted board which
+serves as a foundation for the chalet. In one corner of the window an
+object more gaudy but not more useful attracts the eye. It is the popular
+doll figure commonly known in Germany as the "Wiener Gigerl" or "Vienna
+fop." It is doubtful whether any person could appear in the public places
+of Vienna in such a costume without being stoned or otherwise painfully
+put to a shameful death. The doll is arrayed in black shorts and silk
+stockings, a wide white waistcoat, a scarlet evening coat, an enormous
+collar and a white tall hat with a broad brim. He stands upon one foot,
+raising the other as though in the act of beginning a minuet; he holds in
+one hand a stick and in the other a cigarette, a relatively monstrous
+eye-glass magnifies one of his painted eyes and upon his face is such an
+expression of combined insolence, vulgarity, dishonesty and conceit as
+would insure his being shot at sight in any Western American village
+making the least pretence to self-respect. On high days and holidays
+Christian Fischelowitz inserts a key into the square black pedestal
+whereon the doll has its being, and the thing lives and moves, turns about
+and cocks its impertinent head at the passers-by, while a feeble tune of
+uncertain rhythm is heard grating itself out upon the teeth of the metal
+comb in the concealed mechanism. Fischelowitz delights in this
+monstrosity, and is never weary of watching its detestable antics. It is
+doubtful whether in the simplicity of his good-natured heart he does not
+really believe that the Wiener Gigerl may attract a stray customer to his
+counter and, in the long-run, pay for itself. For it cost him money, and
+in itself, as a thing of beauty, it hardly covers the bad debt contracted
+with him by a poor fellow-countryman to whom he kindly lent fifty marks
+last year. He accepted the doll without a murmur, however, in full
+discharge of the obligation, and with an odd philosophy peculiar to
+himself, he does his best to get what amusement he can out of the little
+red-coated figure without complaining and without bitterness.
+
+Christian's wife, his larger if not his better half, is less complacent.
+In the publicity of the shop her small black eyes cast glances full of
+hate upon the innocent Gigerl, her full flat face reddens with anger when
+she remembers the money, and her fat hands would dash the insolent little
+figure into the street, if her mercantile understanding did not suggest
+the possibility of ultimately selling it for something. In view of such a
+fortunate contingency, and whenever she is alone, she carefully dusts the
+thing and puts it away in the cupboard in the corner, well knowing that
+Fischelowitz will return in an hour, will take it out, set it in its
+place, wind it up and watch its performance with his everlasting,
+good-humoured, satisfied smile. In public she ventures only to abuse the
+doll. In the silent watches of the night she directs her sharp speeches at
+Christian himself. Not that she is altogether miserly, nor by any means an
+ill-disposed person. Had she been of such a disposition her husband would
+not have married her, for he is a very good man of business and a keen
+judge of other wares besides tobacco. She is a good mother and a good
+housewife, energetic, thrifty, and of fairly even temper; but that
+particular piece of generosity which resulted in the acquisition of a
+red-coated puppet in exchange for fifty marks fills her heart with anger
+and her plump brown fingers with an itching desire to scratch and tear
+something or somebody as a means of satisfying her vengeance. For the poor
+fellow-countryman was one of the Count's friends, and Akulina Fischelowitz
+abhors the Count and loathes him, and the Wiener Gigerl was the beginning
+of the end.
+
+While Christian is watching his doll, and Akulina is seated behind the
+counter, her hands folded upon her lap, and her eyes darting unquiet
+glances at her husband, the Count is busily occupied in making cigarettes
+in the dingy back shop among a group of persons, both young and old, all
+similarly occupied. It is not to be expected that the workroom should be
+cleaner or more tastefully decorated than the counting-house, and in such
+a business as the manufacture of cigarettes by hand litter of all sorts
+accumulates rapidly. The "Famous Cigarette Manufactory of Christian
+Fischelowitz from South Russia" is about as dingy, as unhealthy, as
+untidy, as dusty a place as can be found within the limits of tidy,
+well-to-do Munich. The room is lighted by a window and a half-glazed door,
+both opening upon a dark court. The walls, originally whitewashed, are of
+a deep rich brown, attributable partly to the constant fumes and
+exhalations of tobacco, partly to the fine brown dust of the dried refuse
+cuttings, and partly to the admirable smoke-giving qualities of the
+rickety iron stove which stands in one corner, and in which a fire is
+daily attempted during more than half the year. There are many shelves
+upon the walls too, and the white wood of these has also received into
+itself the warm, deep colour. Upon two of these shelves there are
+accumulations of useless articles, a cracked glass vase, once the pride of
+the show window, when it was filled to overflowing with fine cut leaf, a
+broken-down samovar which has seen tea-service in many cities, from Kiew
+to Moscow, from Moscow to Vilna, from Vilna to Berlin, from Berlin to
+Munich; there are fragments of Russian lacquered wooden bowls, wrecked
+cigar-boxes, piles of dingy handbills left over from the last half-yearly
+advertisement, a crazy Turkish narghile, the broken stem of a chibouque,
+an old hat and an odd boot, besides irregularly shaped parcels, wrapped in
+crumpled brown paper and half buried in dust. Upon the other shelves are
+arranged more neatly rows of tin boxes with locks, and reams of still
+uncut cigarette paper, some white, some straw-coloured.
+
+Round about the room are the seats of the workers. One man alone is
+standing at his task, a man with a dark, Cossack face, high cheek-bones,
+honest, gleaming black eyes, straggling hair and ragged beard. In his
+shirt-sleeves, his arms bare to the elbow, he handles the heavy swivel
+knife, pressing the package of carefully arranged leaves forward and under
+the blade by almost imperceptible degrees. It is one of the most delicate
+operations in the art, and the man has an especial gift for the work. So
+sensitive is his strong right hand that as the knife cuts through the
+thick pile he can detect the presence of a scrap of thin paper amongst the
+tobacco, and not a bit of hardened stem or a twisted leaf escapes him. It
+is very hard work, even for a strong man, and the moisture stands in great
+drops on his dark forehead as he carefully presses the sharp instrument
+through the resisting substance, quickly lifts it up again and pushes on
+the package for the next cut.
+
+At a small black table near by sits a Polish girl, poorly dressed, her
+heavy red-brown hair braided in one long neat tress, her face deadly
+white, her blue eyes lustreless and sunken, her thin fingers actively
+rolling bits of paper round a glass tube, drawing them off as the edges
+are gummed together, and laying them in a prettily arranged pile before
+her. She is Vjera, the shell-maker, invariably spoken of as "poor Vjera."
+Vjera, being interpreted from the Russian, means "Faith." There is an odd
+and pathetic irony in the name borne by the sickly girl. Faith--faith in
+what? In shell-making? In Christian Fischelowitz? In Johann Schmidt, the
+Cossack tobacco-cutter, whose real name is lost in the gloom of many dim
+wanderings? In life? In death? Who knows? In God, at least, poor
+child--and in her wretched existence there is little else left for her to
+believe in. If you ask her whether she believes in the Count, she will
+turn away rather hastily, but in that case the wish to believe is there.
+
+Beside Vjera sits another girl, less pale perhaps, but more insignificant
+in feature, and similarly occupied, with this slight difference that the
+little cylinders she makes are straw-coloured when Vjera is making white
+ones, and white when her companion is using straw-coloured paper. On the
+opposite side of the room, also before small black tables, sit two men, to
+wit, Victor Ivanowitch Dumnoff and the Count. It is their business to
+shape the tobacco and to insert it into the shells, a process performed by
+rolling the cut leaf into a cylinder in a tongue-shaped piece of
+parchment, which, when ready, has the form of a pencil, and is slipped
+into the shell. The parchment is then withdrawn, and the tobacco remains
+behind in its place; the little bunch of threads which protrudes at each
+end is cut off with sharp scissors and the cigarette is finished.
+
+The Count, on the afternoon of the day on which this story opens, was
+sitting before his little black table in his usual attitude, his head
+stooping slightly forward, his elbows supported on each side of him, his
+long fingers moving quickly and skilfully, his greyish blue eyes fixed
+intently on his work. At five o'clock in the afternoon on Tuesday, the
+sixth of May, in the present year of grace one thousand eight hundred and
+ninety, the Count was rapidly approaching the two-thousandth cigarette of
+that day's work. Two thousand in a day was his limit; and though he
+boasted that he could make three thousand between dawn and midnight, if
+absolutely necessary, yet he confessed that among the last five hundred a
+few might be found in which the leaves would be too tightly rolled or too
+loosely packed. Up to his limit, however, he was to be relied upon, and
+not one of his hundred score of cigarettes would be found to differ in
+weight from another by a single grain.
+
+It is perhaps time to describe the outward appearance of the busy worker,
+out of whose life the events of some six-and-thirty hours furnish the
+subject of this little tale. The Count is thirty years old, but might be
+thought older, for there are grey streaks in his smooth black hair, and
+there is a grey tone in the complexion of his tired face. In figure he is
+thin, broad shouldered, sinewy, well made and graceful. He moves easily
+and with a certain elegance. His arms and legs are long in proportion to
+his body. His head is well shaped, bony, full of energy--his nose is
+finely modelled and sharply aquiline; a short, dark moustache does not
+quite hide the firm, well-chiselled lips, and the clean-cut chin is
+prominent and of the martial type. From under his rather heavy eyebrows a
+pair of keen eyes, full of changing light and expression, look somewhat
+contemptuously on the world and its inhabitants. On the whole, the Count
+is a handsome man and looks a gentleman, in spite of his occupation and in
+spite of his clothes, which are in the fashion of twenty years ago, but
+are carefully brushed and all but spotless. There are poor men who can
+wear a coat as a red Indian will ride a mustang which a white man has left
+for dead, beyond the period predetermined by the nature of tailoring as
+the natural term of existence allotted to earthly garments. We look upon a
+centenarian as a miracle of longevity, and he is careful to tell us his
+age if he have not lost the power of speech; but if the coats of poor men
+could speak, how much more marvellous in our eyes would their powers of
+life appear! A stranger would have taken the Count for a half-pay officer
+of good birth in straitened circumstances. The expression of his face at
+the time in question was grave and thoughtful, as though he were thinking
+of matters weightier to his happiness, if not more necessary to his
+material welfare than his work. He saw his fingers moving, he watched each
+honey-coloured bundle of cut leaf as it was rolled in the parchment
+tongue, and with unswerving regularity he made the motions required to
+slip the tobacco into the shell. But, while seeing all that he did, and
+seeing consciously, he looked as though he saw also through the familiar
+materials shaped under his fingers, into a dim distance full of a larger
+life and wider interests.
+
+The five occupants of the workshop had been working in silence for nearly
+half an hour. The two girls on the one side and the two men on the other
+kept their eyes bent down upon their fingers, while Johann Schmidt, the
+Cossack, plied his guillotine-like knife in the corner. This same Johann
+Schmidt, whose real name, to judge from his appearance, might have been
+Tarass Bulba or Danjelo Buralbash, and was probably of a similar sound,
+was at once the wit, the spendthrift and the humanitarian of the
+Fischelowitz manufactory, possessing a number of good qualities in such
+abundant measure as to make him a total failure in everything except the
+cutting of tobacco. Like many witty, generous and kind-hearted persons in
+a much higher rank of existence, he was cursed with a total want of tact.
+On the present occasion, having sliced through an unusually long package
+of leaves and having encountered an exceptional number of obstacles in
+doing so, he thought fit to pause, draw a long breath and wipe the
+perspiration from his sallow forehead with a pocket-handkerchief in which
+the neutral tints predominated. This operation, preparatory to a rest of
+ten minutes, having been successfully accomplished, Tarass Bulba Schmidt
+picked up a tiny oblong bit of paper which had found its way to his feet
+from one of the girls' tables, took a pinch of the freshly cut tobacco
+beside him and rolled a cigarette in his palm with one hand while he felt
+in his pocket for a match with the other. Then, in the midst of a great
+cloud of fragrant smoke, he sat down upon the edge of his cutting-block
+and looked at his companions. After a few moments of deep thought he gave
+expression to his meditations in bad German. It is curious to see how
+readily the Slavs in Germany fall into the habit of using the language of
+the country when conversing together.
+
+"It is my opinion," he said at last, "that the most objectless existences
+are those which most exactly accomplish the object set before them."
+
+Having given vent to this bit of paradox, Johann inhaled as much smoke as
+his leathery lungs could contain and relapsed into silence. Vjera, the
+Polish girl, glanced at the tobacco-cutter and went on with her work. The
+insignificant girl beside her giggled vacantly. Dumnoff did not seem to
+have heard the remark.
+
+"Nineteen hundred and twenty-three," muttered the Count between his teeth
+and in Russian, as the nineteenth hundred and twenty-third cigarette
+rolled from his fingers, and he took up the parchment tongue for the
+nineteenth hundred and twenty-fourth time that day.
+
+"I do not exactly understand you, Herr Schmidt," said Vjera without
+looking up again. "An objectless life has no object. How then--"
+
+"There is nothing to understand," growled Dumnoff, who never counted his
+own work, and always enjoyed a bit of conversation, provided he could
+abuse something or somebody. "There is nothing in it, and Herr Schmidt is
+a Landau moss-head."
+
+It would be curious to ascertain why the wiseacres of eastern Bavaria are
+held throughout South Germany in such contempt as to be a byword for
+dulness and stupidity. The Cossack's dark eyes shot a quick glance at the
+Russian, but he took no notice of the remark.
+
+"I mean," he said, after a pause, "exactly what I say. I am an honest
+fellow, and I always mean what I say, and no offence to anybody. Do we not
+all of us, here with Fischelowitz, exactly fulfil the object set before
+us, I would like to ask? Do we not make cigarettes from morning till night
+with horrible exactness and regularity? Very well. Do we not, at the same
+time, lead an atrociously objectless existence?"
+
+"The object of existence is to live," remarked Dumnoff, who was fond of
+cabbage and strong spirits, and of little else in the world. The Cossack
+laughed.
+
+"Do you call this living?" he asked contemptuously. Then the good-humoured
+tone returned to his voice, and he shrugged his bony shoulders as he
+crossed one leg over the other and took another puff.
+
+"Nineteen hundred and twenty-nine," said the Count.
+
+"Do you call that a life for a Christian man?" asked Schmidt again,
+looking at him and waving towards him the lighted cigarette he held. "Is
+that a life for a gentleman, for a real Count, for a noble, for an
+educated aristocrat, for a man born to be the heir of millions?"
+
+"Thirty," said the Count. "No, it is not. But there is no reason why you
+should remind us of the fact, that I know of. It is bad enough to be
+obliged to do the thing, without being made to talk about it. Not that it
+matters to me so much to-day as it did a year ago, as you may imagine.
+Thirty-one. It will soon be over for me, at least. In fact I only finish
+these two thousand out of kindness to Fischelowitz, because I know he has
+a large order to deliver on the day after to-morrow. And, besides, a
+gentleman must keep his word even--thirty-two--in the matter of making
+cigarettes for other people. But the work on this batch shall be a parting
+gift of my goodwill to Fischelowitz, who is an honest fellow and has
+understood my painful situation all along. To-morrow at this time, I shall
+be far away. Thirty-three."
+
+The Count drew a long breath of relief in the anticipation of his release
+from captivity and hard labour. Vjera dropped her glass tube and her
+little pieces of paper and looked sadly at him, while he was speaking.
+
+"By the by," observed the Cossack, "to-day is Tuesday. I had quite
+forgotten. So you really leave us to-morrow."
+
+"Yes. It is all settled at last, and I have had letters. It is
+to-morrow--and this is my last hundred."
+
+"At what time?" inquired Dumnoff, with a rough laugh. "Is it to be in the
+morning or in the afternoon?"
+
+"I do not know," answered the Count, quietly and with an air of
+conviction. "It will certainly be before night."
+
+"Provided you get the news in time to ask us to the feast," jeered the
+other, "we shall all be as happy as you yourself."
+
+"Thirty-four," said the Count, who had rolled the last cigarette very
+slowly and thoughtfully.
+
+Vjera cast an imploring look on Dumnoff, as though beseeching him not to
+continue his jesting. The rough man, who might have sat for the type of
+the Russian mujik, noticed the glance and was silent.
+
+"Who is incredulous enough to disbelieve this time?" asked the Cossack,
+gravely. "Besides, the Count says that he has had letters, so it is
+certain, at last."
+
+"Love-letters, he means," giggled the insignificant girl, who rejoiced in
+the name of Anna Schmigjelskova. Then she looked at Vjera as though afraid
+of her displeasure.
+
+But Vjera took no notice of the silly speech and sat idle for some
+minutes, gazing at the Count with an expression in which love, admiration
+and pity were very oddly mingled. Pale and ill as she looked, there was a
+ray of light and a movement of life in her face during those few moments.
+Then she took again her glass tube and her bits of paper and resumed her
+task of making shells, with a little heave of her thin chest that betrayed
+the suppression of a sigh.
+
+The Count finished his second thousand, and arranged the last hundreds
+neatly with the others, laying them in little heaps and patting the ends
+with his fingers so that they should present an absolutely symmetrical
+appearance. Dumnoff plodded on, in his peculiar way, doing the work well
+and then carelessly tossing it into a basket by his side. He was capable
+of working fourteen hours at a stretch when there was a prospect of
+cabbage soup and liquor in the evening. The Cossack cleaned his
+cutting-block and his broad swivel knife and emptied the cut tobacco into
+a clean tin box. It was clear that the day's work was almost at an end for
+all present. At that moment Fischelowitz entered with jaunty step and
+smiling face, jingling a quantity of loose silver in his hand. He is a
+little man, rotund and cheerful, quiet of speech and sunny in manner, with
+a brown beard and waving dark hair, arranged in the manner dear to
+barbers' apprentices. He has very soft brown eyes, a healthy complexion
+and a nose the inverse of aquiline, for it curves upwards to its sharp
+point, as though perpetually snuffing after the pleasant fragrance of his
+favourite "Dubec otborny."
+
+"Well, my children," he said, with a slight stammer that somehow lent an
+additional kindliness to his tone, "what has the day's work been? You
+first, Herr Graf," he added, turning to the Count. "I suppose that you
+have made a thousand at least?"
+
+Fischelowitz possessed in abundance the tact which was lacking in Johann
+Schmidt, the Cossack. He well knew that the Count had made double the
+quantity, but he also knew that the latter enjoyed the small triumph of
+producing twice what seemed to be expected of him.
+
+"Two thousand, Herr Fischelowitz," he said, proudly. Then seeing that his
+employer was counting out the sum of six marks, he made a deprecating
+gesture, as though refusing all payment.
+
+"No," he said, with great dignity, and rising from his seat. "No. You must
+allow me, on this occasion, to refuse the honorarium usual under the
+circumstances."
+
+"And why, my dear Count?" inquired Fischelowitz, shaking the six marks in
+one hand and the remainder of his money in the other, as though weighing
+the silver. "And why will you refuse me the honour--"
+
+The other working people exchanged glances of amusement, as though they
+knew what was coming. Vjera hid her face in her hands as she rested her
+elbows on the table before her.
+
+"I must indeed explain," answered the Count. "To-morrow, I shall be
+obliged to leave you, not to return to the occupation which has so long
+been a necessity to me in my troubles. Fortune at last returns to me and I
+am free. I think I have spoken to you in confidence of my situation, once
+at least, if not more often. My difficulties are at an end. I have
+received letters announcing that to-morrow I shall be reinstated in my
+possessions. You have shown me kindness--kindness, Herr Fischelowitz, and,
+what has been more than kindness to me, you have shown me great courtesy.
+Every one has not treated the poor gentleman with the same forbearance.
+But let bygones be bygones. On the occasion of my return to prosperity,
+permit me to offer you, as the only gift as yet within my means, the
+result of my last day's work within these walls. You have been very kind,
+and I thank you very sincerely."
+
+There was a tremor in the Count's voice, and a moisture in his eyes, as he
+drew himself up in his threadbare decent frock-coat and held out his
+sinewy hand, stained with the long handling of tobacco in his daily
+labour. Fischelowitz smiled with uncommon cheerfulness as he grasped the
+bony fingers heartily.
+
+"Thank you," he said. "I accept. I esteem it an honour to have been of any
+assistance to you in your temporary annoyances."
+
+Vjera still hid her face. The Cossack watched what was happening with an
+expression half sad, half curious, and Dumnoff displayed a set of
+ferocious white teeth as he stupidly grinned from ear to ear.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Fischelowitz paid each worker for the day's work, in his quick, cheerful
+way, and each, being paid, passed out through the front shop into the
+street. Five minutes later the Count was strolling along the
+Maximilians-strasse in the direction of the royal palace. As he walked he
+drew himself up to the full height of his military figure and looked into
+the faces of the passers in the way with grave dignity. At that hour there
+were many people abroad, slim lieutenants in the green uniforms of the
+Uhlans and in the blue coats and crimson facings of the heavy cavalry,
+superior officers with silver or gold plated epaulettes, slim maidens and
+plump matrons, beardless students in bright, coloured caps, and solemn,
+elderly civilians with great beards and greater spectacles, great Munich
+burghers and little Munich nobles, gaily dressed children of all ages,
+dogs of every breed from the Saint Bernard to the crooked-jointed Dachs,
+perambulators not a few and legions of nursery-maids. Most of the people
+who passed cast a glance at the thoroughbred-looking man in the threadbare
+frock-coat who looked at them all with such an air of quiet superiority,
+carrying his head so high and putting down his feet with such a firm
+tread. There were doubtless those among the crowd who saw in the tired
+face the indications of a life-story not without interest, for the crowd
+was not, nor ever is, in Munich, lacking in intelligent and observant
+persons. But in all the multitude there was not one man or woman who knew
+the name of the individual to whom the face belonged, and there were few
+who would have risked the respectability of their social position by
+making the acquaintance of a man so evidently poor, even if the occasion
+had presented itself.
+
+But presently a figure was seen moving swiftly through the throng in the
+direction already taken by the Count, a figure of a type much more
+familiar to the sight of the Munich stroller, for it was that of a poorly
+dressed girl with a long plait of red-brown hair, carrying a covered brown
+straw basket upon one arm and hurrying along with the noiseless tread
+possible only in the extreme old age of shoes that were never strong. Poor
+Vjera had been sent by Fischelowitz with a thousand cigarettes to be
+delivered at one of the hotels. She was generally employed upon like
+errands, because she was the poorest in the establishment, and those who
+received the wares gave her a few pence for her trouble. She sped quickly
+onward, until she suddenly found herself close behind the Count. Then she
+slackened her pace and crept along as noiselessly as possible, her eyes
+fixed upon him as she walked and evidently doing her best not to overtake
+him nor to be seen by him. As luck would have it, however, the Count
+suddenly stood still before the show window of a picture-dealer's shop. A
+clever painting of a solitary Cossack riding along a stony mountain road,
+by Josef Brandt, had attracted his attention. Then as he realised that he
+had looked at the picture a dozen times during the previous week, his eye
+wandered, and in the reflection of the plate-glass window he caught sight
+of Vjera's slight form at no great distance from him. He turned sharply
+upon his heels and met her eyes, taking off his limp hat with a courteous
+gesture.
+
+"Permit me," he said, laying his hand upon the basket and trying to take
+it from her.
+
+Poor Vjera's face flushed suddenly, and her grip tightened upon the straw
+handle and she refused to let it go.
+
+"No, you shall never do that again," she said, quickly, trying to draw
+back from him.
+
+"And why not? Why should I not do you a service?"
+
+"The other day you took it--the people stared at you--they never stare at
+me, for I am only a poor girl--"
+
+"And what are the people or what is their staring to me?" asked the Count,
+quietly. "I am not afraid of being taken for a servant or a porter,
+because I carry a lady's parcel. Pray give me the basket."
+
+"Oh no, pray let it be," cried Vjera, in great earnest. "I cannot bear to
+see you with such a thing in your hand."
+
+They were still standing before the picture-dealer's window, while many
+people passed along the pavement. In trying to draw away, Vjera found
+herself suddenly in the stream, and just then a broad-shouldered officer
+who chanced to be looking the other way came into collision with her, so
+roughly that she was forced almost into the Count's arms. The latter made
+a step forward.
+
+"Is it your habit to jostle ladies in that way?" he asked in a sharp tone,
+addressing the stout lieutenant.
+
+The latter muttered something which might be taken for an apology and
+passed on, having no intention of being drawn into a street quarrel with
+an odd-looking individual who, from his accent, was evidently a foreigner.
+The Count's eyes darted an angry glance after the offender, and then he
+looked again at Vjera. In the little accident he had got possession of the
+basket. Thereupon he passed it to his left hand and offered Vjera his
+right arm.
+
+"Did the insolent fellow hurt you?" he asked anxiously, in Polish.
+
+"Oh no--only give me my basket!" Vjera's face was painfully flushed.
+
+"No, my dear child," said the Count, gravely. "You will not deny me the
+pleasure of accompanying you and of carrying your burden. Afterwards, if
+you will, we can take a little walk together, before I see you to your
+home."
+
+"You are always so kind to me," answered the girl, bending her head, as
+though to hide her burning cheeks, but submitting at last to his will.
+
+For some minutes they walked on in silence. Then Vjera showed by a gesture
+that she wished to cross the street, on the other side of which was
+situated one of the principal hotels of the city. In front of the entrance
+Vjera put out her hand entreatingly towards her basket, but the Count took
+no notice of the attempt and resolutely ascended the steps of the porch by
+her side. Behind the swinging glass door stood the huge porter amply
+endowed with that military appearance so characteristic of all men in
+Germany who wear anything of the nature of an official costume.
+
+"The lady has a package for some one here," said the Count, holding out
+the basket.
+
+"For the head waiter," said Vjera, timidly.
+
+The porter took the basket, set it down, touched the button of an electric
+bell and silently looked at the pair with the malignant scrutiny which is
+the prerogative of servants in their manner with those whom they are
+privileged to consider as their inferiors. Presently, however, meeting the
+Count's cold stare, he turned away and strolled up the vestibule. A moment
+later the head waiter appeared, glorious in a perfectly new evening coat
+and a phenomenal shirt front.
+
+"Ah, my cigarettes!" he exclaimed briskly, and the Count heard the chink
+of the nickel pence, as the head waiter inserted two fat white fingers
+into the pocket of his exceedingly fashionable waistcoat.
+
+The sight which must follow was one which the Count was anxious not to
+see. He therefore turned his back and pretended to brush from his sleeve a
+speck of dust revealed to his searching eye in the strong afternoon light
+which streamed through the open door. Then Vjera's low-spoken word of
+thanks and her light tread made him aware that she had received her little
+gratuity; he stood politely aside while she passed out, and then went down
+the half-dozen steps with her. As they began to move up the street, he did
+not offer her his arm again.
+
+"You are so kind, so kind to me," said poor Vjera. "How can I ever thank
+you!"
+
+"Between you and me there is no question of thanks," answered her
+companion. "Or if there is to be such a question it should arise in
+another way. It is for me to thank you."
+
+"For what?"
+
+"For many things, all of which have proceeded from your kindness of heart
+and have resulted in making my life bearable during the past months--or
+years. I keep little account of time. How long is it since I have been
+making cigarettes for Fischelowitz, at the rate of three marks a
+thousand?"
+
+"Ever since I can remember," answered Vjera. "It is six years since I came
+to work there as a little girl."
+
+"Six years? That is not possible! You must be mistaken, it cannot be so
+long."
+
+Vjera said nothing, but turned her face away with an expression of pain.
+
+"Yes, it is a long time, since all that happened," said the Count,
+thoughtfully. "I was a young man then, I am old now."
+
+"Old! How can you say anything so untrue!" Vjera exclaimed with
+considerable indignation.
+
+"Yes, I am old. It is no wonder. We say at home that 'strange earth dies
+without wind.' A foreign land will make old bones of a man without the
+help of years. That is what Germany has done for me. And yet, how much
+older I should be but for you, dear Vjera! Shall we sit down here, in this
+quiet place, under the trees? You know it is all over to-morrow, and I am
+free at last. I would like to tell you my story."
+
+Vjera, who was tired of the close atmosphere of the workroom and whose
+strength was not enough to let her walk far with pleasure, sat down upon
+the green bench willingly enough, but the nervous look of pain had not
+disappeared from her face.
+
+"Is it of any use to tell it to me again?" she asked, sadly, as she leaned
+against the painted backboard.
+
+The Count produced a cigarette and gravely lighted it, before he answered
+her, and when he spoke he seemed to attach little or no importance to her
+question.
+
+"You see," he said, "it is all different now, and I can look at it from a
+different point of view. Formerly when I spoke of it, I am afraid that I
+spoke bitterly, for, of course, I could not foresee that it could all come
+right again so soon, so very soon. And now that this weary time is over I
+can look back upon it with some pride, if with little pleasure--save for
+the part you have played in my life, and--may I say it?--saving the part I
+have played in yours."
+
+He put out his hand gently and tenderly touched hers, and there was
+something in the meeting of those two thin, yellow hands, stained with the
+same daily labour and not meeting for the first time thus, that sent a
+thrill to the two hearts and that might have brought a look of thoughtful
+interest into eyes dulled and wearied by the ordinary sights of this
+world. Vjera did not resent the innocent caress, but the colour that came
+into her face was not of the same hue as that which had burned there when
+he had insisted upon carrying her basket. This time the blush was not
+painful to see, but rather shed a faint light of beauty over the plain,
+pale features. Poor Vjera was happy for a moment.
+
+"I am very glad if I have been anything to you," she said. "I would I
+might have been more."
+
+"More? I do not see--you have been gentle, forbearing, respecting my
+misfortunes and trying to make others respect them. What more could you
+have done, or what more could you have been?"
+
+Vjera was silent, but she softly withdrew her hand from his and gazed at
+the people in the distance. The Count smoked without speaking, for several
+minutes, closing his eyes as though revolving a great problem in his mind,
+then glancing sidelong at his companion's face, hesitating as though about
+to speak, checking himself and shutting his eyes again in meditation.
+Holding his cigarette between his teeth he clasped his fingers together
+tightly, unclasped them again and let his arms fall on each side of him.
+At last he turned sharply, as though resolved what to do.
+
+He believed that he was on the very eve of recovering a vast fortune and
+of resuming a high position in the world. It was no wonder that there was
+a struggle in his soul, when at that moment a new complication seemed to
+present itself. He was indeed sure that he did not love Vjera, and in the
+brilliant dreams which floated before his half-closed eyes, visions of
+beautiful and high-born women dazzled him with their smiles and enchanted
+him by the perfect grace of their movements. To-morrow he might choose his
+wife among such as they. But to-day Vjera was by his side, poor Vjera, who
+alone of those he had known during the years of his captivity had stood by
+him, had felt for him, had given him a sense of reliance in her perfect
+sincerity and honest affection. And her affection had grown into something
+more; it had developed into love during the last months. He had seen it,
+had known it and had done nothing to arrest the growth. Nay, he had done
+worse. Only a moment ago he had taken her hand in a way which might well
+mislead an innocent girl. The Count, according to his lights, was the very
+incarnation of the theory, honour, in the practice, honesty. His path was
+clear. If he had deceived Vjera in the very smallest accent of word or
+detail of deed he must make instant reparation. This was the reason why he
+turned sharply in his seat and looked at her with a look which was
+certainly kind, but which was, perhaps, more full of determination than of
+lover-like tenderness.
+
+"Vjera," he said, slowly, pausing on every syllable of his speech, "will
+you be my wife?"
+
+Vjera looked at him long and shook her head in silence. Instead of
+blushing, she turned pale, changing colour with that suddenness which
+belongs to delicate or exhausted organisations. The Count did not heed the
+plain though unspoken negation and continued to speak very slowly and
+earnestly, choosing his words and rounding his expressions as though he
+were making a declaration to a young princess instead of asking a poor
+Polish girl to marry him. He even drew himself together, as it were, with
+the movement of dignity which was habitual with him, straightening his
+back, squaring his shoulders and leaning slightly forward in his seat. As
+he began to speak again, Vjera clasped her hands upon her knees and looked
+down at the gravel of the public path.
+
+"I am in earnest," he said. "To-morrow, all those rights to which I was
+born will be restored to me, and I shall enjoy what the world calls a
+great position. Am I so deeply indebted to the world that I must submit to
+all its prejudices and traditions? Has the world given me anything, in
+exchange for which it becomes my duty to consult its caprices, or its
+social superstitions? Surely not. To whom am I most indebted, to the world
+which has turned its back on me during a temporary embarrassment and loss
+of fortune, or to my friend Vjera who has been faithfully kind all along?
+The question itself is foolish. I owe everything to Vjera, and nothing to
+the world. The case is simple, the argument is short and the verdict is
+plain. I will not take the riches and the dignities which will be mine by
+this time to-morrow to the feet of some high-born lady who, to-day, would
+look coldly on me because I am not--not quite in the fashion, so far as
+outward appearance is concerned. But I will and I do offer all, wealth,
+title, dignity, everything to Vjera. And she shakes her head, and with a
+single gesture refuses it all. Why? Has she a reason to give? An argument
+to set up? A sensible ground for her decision? No, certainly not."
+
+As he looked gravely towards her averted face, Vjera again shook her head,
+slowly and thoughtfully, with an air of unalterable determination. He
+seemed surprised at her obstinacy and watched her in silence for a few
+moments.
+
+"I see," he said at last, very sadly. "You think that I do not love you."
+Vjera made no sign, and a long pause followed during which the Count's
+features expressed great perplexity.
+
+The day was drawing to its close and the low sun shot level rays through
+the trees of the Hofgarten, far above the heads of the laughing children,
+the gossiping nurses and the slowly moving crowd that filled the pavement
+along the drive in front of the palace. Vjera and the Count were seated on
+a bench which was now already in the shade. The air was beginning to grow
+chilly, but neither of them heeded the change.
+
+"You think that I do not love you," said the Count again. "You are
+mistaken, deeply mistaken, Vjera."
+
+The faint, soft colour rose in the poor girl's waxen cheeks, and there was
+an unaccustomed light in her weary blue eyes as they met his.
+
+"I do not say," continued her companion, "that I love you as boys love at
+twenty. I am past that. I am not a young man any more, and I have had
+misfortunes such as would have broken the hearts of most men, and of the
+kind that do not dispose to great love-passion. If my troubles had come to
+me through the love of a woman--it might have been otherwise. As it is--do
+you think that I have no love for you, Vjera? Do not think that, dear--do
+not let me see that you think it, for it would hurt me. There is much for
+you, much, very much."
+
+"To-day," answered Vjera, sadly, "but not to-morrow."
+
+"You are cruel, without meaning to be even unkind," said the Count in an
+unsteady voice. This time it was Vjera who took his hand in hers and
+pressed it.
+
+"God forbid that I should have an unkind thought for you," she said, very
+tenderly.
+
+The Count turned to her again and there was a moisture in his eyes of
+which he was unconscious.
+
+"Then believe that I do truly love you, Vjera," he answered. "Believe that
+all that there is to give you, I give, and that my all is not a little. I
+love you, child, in a way--ah, well, you have your girlish dreams of love,
+and it is right that you should have them and it would be very wrong to
+destroy them. But they shall not be destroyed by me, and surely not by any
+other man, while I live. I shall grow young again, I will grow young for
+you, for, in years at least, I am not old. I will be a boy for you, Vjera,
+and I will love as boys love, but with the strength of a man who has known
+sorrow and overlived it. You shall not feel that in taking me you are
+taking a father, a protector, a man to whom your youth seems childhood,
+and your youthfulness childish folly. No, no--I will be more than that to
+you, I will be all to you that you are to me, and more, and more, each
+day, till love has made us of one age, of one mind, of one heart. Do you
+not believe that all this shall be? Speak, dear. What is there yet behind
+in your thoughts?"
+
+"I cannot tell. I wish I knew." Vjera's answer was scarcely audible and
+she turned her face from him.
+
+"And yet, there is something, you are keeping something from me, when I
+have kept nothing from you. Why is it? Why do you not quite trust me and
+believe in me? I can make you happy, now. Yesterday it was different and
+so it was in all the yesterdays of yesterdays. I had nothing to offer you
+but myself."
+
+"It were best so," said Vjera in a low voice.
+
+The Count was silent. There was something in her manner which he could not
+understand, or rather, as he fancied, there was something in his own brain
+which prevented him from understanding a very simple matter, and he grew
+impatient with himself. At the same time he felt more and more strongly
+drawn to the young girl at his side. As the sun went down and the evening
+shadows deepened, he saw more in her face than he had been accustomed to
+see there. Every line of the pale features so familiar to his sight in his
+everyday life, reminded him of moments in the recent past when he had been
+wretchedly unhappy, and when the kindly look in Vjera's face had comforted
+him and made life seem less unbearable. In his dreary world she alone had
+shown that she cared whether he lived or died, were insulted or respected,
+were treated like a dog or like a Christian man. The kindness of his
+employer was indeed undeniable, but it was of the sort which grated upon
+the sensitive nature of the unfortunate cigarette-maker, for it was in
+itself vulgarly cheerful, assuming that, after all, the Count should be
+contented with his lot. But Vjera had always seemed to understand him, to
+feel for him, to foresee his sensibilities as it were, and to be prepared
+for them. In a measure appreciable to himself she admired him, and
+admiration alone can make pity palatable to the proud. In her eyes his
+constancy under misfortune was as admirable as his misfortunes themselves
+were worthy of commiseration. In her eyes he was a gentleman, and one who
+had a right to hold his head high among the best. When he was poorest, he
+had felt himself to be in her eyes a hero. Are there many men who can
+resist the charm of the one woman who believes them to be heroic? Are not
+most men, too, really better for the trust and faith that is placed in
+them by others, as the earthen vessel, valueless in itself, becomes a
+thing of prize and beauty under the loving hand of the artist who draws
+graceful figures upon it and colours it skilfully, and handles it
+tenderly?
+
+And now the poor man was puzzled and made anxious by the girl's obstinate
+rejection of his offer. A chilly thought took shape in his mind and pained
+him exceedingly.
+
+"Vjera," he said at last, "I see how it is. You have never loved me. You
+have only pitied me. You are good and kind, Vjera, but I wish it had been
+otherwise."
+
+He spoke very quietly, in a subdued tone, and the moisture which had been
+more than once in his eyes since he had sat down beside the young girl,
+now almost took the shape of a tear. He was wounded in his innocent
+vanity, in the last stronghold of his fast-fading individuality. But Vjera
+turned quickly at the words and a momentary fire illuminated her pale blue
+eyes and dispelled the misty veil that seemed to dull them.
+
+"Whatever you say, do not say that!" she exclaimed. "I love you with all
+my heart--I--ah, if you only understood, if you only knew, if you only
+guessed!"
+
+"That is it," answered the Count. "If I only could--but there is something
+that passes my understanding."
+
+The look of pain faded from his face and gave way to a bright smile, so
+bright, so rare, that it restored in the magic of an instant the freshness
+of early youth to the weary mask of sorrow. Then he covered his eyes with
+his hands as though searching his memory for something he could not find.
+
+"What is it?" he asked, after a short pause and looking suddenly at Vjera.
+"It is something I ought to remember and yet something I have quite
+forgotten. Help me, Vjera, tell me what you are thinking of, and I will
+explain it all."
+
+"I was thinking of this day a week ago," said Vjera, and a little sob
+escaped her as she quickly looked away.
+
+"A week ago? Let me see--what happened a week ago? But why should I ask?
+Nothing ever happens to me, nothing until now! And now, oh Vjera, it is
+you who do not understand, it is you who do not know, who cannot guess."
+
+As if he had forgotten everything else in the sudden realisation of his
+return to liberty and fortune, he began to speak quickly and excitedly in
+a tone louder and clearer than that of his ordinary voice.
+
+"No," he cried, "you can never guess what this change is to me. You can
+never know what I enjoy in the thought of being myself again, you cannot
+understand what it is to have been rich and great, and to be poor and
+wretched and to regain wealth and dignity again by the stroke of a pen in
+the vibration of a second. And yet it is true, all true, I tell you,
+to-day, at last, after so much waiting. To-morrow they will come to my
+lodging to fetch me--a court carriage or two, and many officials who will
+treat me with the old respect I was used to long ago. They will come up my
+little staircase, bringing money, immense quantities of money, and the
+papers and the parchments and the seals. How they will stare at my poor
+lodging, for they have never known that I have been so wretched. Yes, one
+will bring money in a black leathern case--I know just how it will
+look--and another will have with him a box full of documents--all lawfully
+mine--and a third will bring my orders, that I once wore, and with them
+the order of Saint Alexander Nevsky and a letter on broad heavy paper,
+signed Alexander Alexandrovitch, signed by the Tsar himself, Vjera. And I
+shall go with them to be received in audience by the Prince Regent here,
+before I leave for Petersburg. And then, after dinner, in the evening, I
+will get into my special carriage in the express train and my servants
+will make me comfortable and then away, away, a night, and a day and
+another night and perhaps a few hours more and I shall be at home at last,
+in my own great, beautiful home, far out in the glorious country among the
+woods and the streams and the birds; and I shall be driven in an open
+carriage with four horses up from the village through the great avenue of
+poplars to the grand old house. But before I go in I will go to the
+tomb--yes, I will go to the tomb among the trees, and I will say a prayer
+for my father and--"
+
+"Your father?" Vjera started slightly. She had listened to the long
+catalogue of the poor man's anticipations with a sad, unchanging face, as
+though she had heard it all before. But at the mention of his father's
+death she seemed surprised.
+
+"Yes. He is dead at last, and my brother died on the same day. I have had
+letters. There was a disease abroad in the village. They caught it and
+they died. And now everything is mine, everything, the lands and the
+houses and the money, all, all mine. But I will say a prayer for them, now
+that they are dead and I shall never see them again. God knows, they
+treated me ill when they were alive, but death has them at last."
+
+The Count's eyes grew suddenly cold and hard, so that Vjera shuddered as
+she caught the look of hatred in them.
+
+"Death, death, death!" he cried. "Death the judge, the gaoler, the
+executioner! He has done justice on them for me, and they will not break
+loose from the house he has made for them to lie in and to sleep in for
+ever. And now, friend Death, I am master in their stead, and you must give
+me time to enjoy the mastership before you serve me likewise. Oh Vjera,
+the joy, the delight, the ecstasy, the glory of it all!"
+
+He struck the palms of his lean hands together with the gesture of a boy,
+and laughed aloud in the sheer overflowing of his heart. But Vjera sat
+still, silent and thoughtful, beside him, watching him rather anxiously as
+though she feared lest the excess of his happiness might do him an injury.
+
+"You do not say anything, Vjera. You do not seem glad," he said, suddenly
+noticing her expression.
+
+"I am very glad, indeed I am," she answered, smiling with a great effort.
+"Who would not be glad at the thought of seeing you enjoy your own again?"
+
+"It is not for the money, Vjera!" he exclaimed in a lower and more
+concentrated tone. "It is not really for the money nor for the lands, nor
+even for the position or the dignity. Do you know what it is that makes me
+so happy? I have got the best of it. That is it. It has been a long
+struggle and a weary one, but I knew I should win, though I never saw how
+it was to be. When they turned me away from them like a dog, my father and
+my brother, I faced them on the threshold for the last time and I said to
+them, 'Look you, you have made an outcast of me, and yet I am your son, my
+father, and your brother, my brother, and you know it. And yet I tell you
+that when we meet again, I shall be master here, and not you.' And so it
+has turned out, Vjera, for they shall meet me--they dead, and I alive.
+They jeered and laughed, and sent me away with only the clothes I wore,
+for I would not take their money. I hear their laughter now in my
+ears--but I hear, too, a laugh that is louder and more pitiless than
+theirs was, for it is the laugh of Death!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+The Count rose to his feet as he finished the last sentence. It seemed as
+though he were oppressed by the inaction to which he was constrained
+during the last hours of waiting before the great moment, and he moved
+nervously, like a man anxious to throw off a burden.
+
+Vjera rose also, with a slow and weary movement.
+
+"It is late," she said. "I must go home. Good-night."
+
+"No. I will go with you. I will see you to your door."
+
+"Thank you," she answered, watching his face closely.
+
+Then the two walked side by side under the lime trees in the deepening
+evening shadows, to the low archway by which the road leads out of the
+Hofgarten on the side of the city. For some minutes neither spoke, but
+Vjera could hear her companion's quickly drawn, irregular breath. His
+heart was beating fast and his thoughts were chasing each other through a
+labyrinth of dreams, inconsequent, unreasonable, but brilliant in the
+extreme. His head high, his shoulders thrown back, his eyes flashing, his
+lips tightly closed, the Count marched out with his companion into the
+broad square. He felt that this had been the last day of his slavery and
+that the morrow's sun was to rise upon a brighter and a happier period of
+his life, in which there should be no more poverty, no more manual labour,
+no more pinching and grinding and tormenting of himself in the hopeless
+effort at outward and visible respectability. Poor Vjera saw in his face
+what was passing in his mind, but her own expression of sadness did not
+change. On the contrary, since his last outbreak of triumphant
+satisfaction she had been more than usually depressed. For a long time the
+Count did not again notice her low spirits, being absorbed in the
+contemplation of his own splendid future. At last he seemed to recollect
+her presence at his side, glanced at her, made as though to say something,
+checked himself, and began humming snatches from an old opera. But either
+his musical memory did not serve him, or his humour changed all at once,
+for he suddenly was silent again, and after glancing once more at Vjera's
+downcast face his own became very grave.
+
+He had been brought back to present considerations, and he found himself
+in one of those dilemmas with which his genuine pride, his innocent and
+harmless vanity and his innate kindness constantly beset his life. He had
+asked Vjera to marry him, scarcely half an hour earlier, and he now found
+himself separated from the moment which had given birth to the generous
+impulse, by a lengthened contemplation of his own immediate return to
+wealth and importance.
+
+He was deeply attached to the poor Polish girl, as men shipwrecked upon
+desert islands grow fond of persons upon whom they could have bestowed no
+thought in ordinary life. He had grown well accustomed to his poor
+existence, and in the surroundings in which he found himself, Vjera was
+the one being in whom, besides sympathy for his misfortune, he discovered
+a sensibility rarer than common, and the unconscious development of a
+natural refinement. There are strange elements to be found in all great
+cities among the colonies of strangers who make their dwellings therein.
+Brought together by trouble, they live in tolerance among themselves, and
+none asks the other the fundamental question of upper society, "Whence art
+thou?"--nor does any make of his neighbour the inquiry which rises first
+to the lips of the man of action, "Whither goest thou?" They meet as the
+seaweed meets on the crest of the wave, of many colours from many distant
+depths, to intermingle for a time in the motion of the waters, to part
+company under the driving of the north wind, to be drifted at last,
+forgetful of each other, by tides and currents which wash the opposite
+ends of the earth. This is the life of the emigrant, of the exile, of the
+wanderer among men; the incongruous elements meet, have brief acquaintance
+and part, not to meet again. Who shall count the faces that the exile has
+known, the voices that have been familiar in his ear, the hands that have
+pressed his? In every land and in every city, he has met and talked with a
+score, with scores, with hundreds of men and women all leading the more or
+less mysterious and uncertain life which has become his own by necessity
+or by choice. If he be an honest man and poor, a dozen trades have
+occupied his fingers in half a dozen capitals; if he be dishonest, a
+hundred forms and varieties of money-bringing dishonesty are sheathed like
+arrows in his quiver, to be shot unawares into the crowd of well-to-do and
+unsuspecting citizens on the borders of whose respectable society the
+adventurer warily picks his path.
+
+It is rarely that two persons meet under such circumstances between whom
+the bond of a real sympathy exists and can develop into lasting friendship
+between man and man, or into true love between man and woman. When both
+feel themselves approaching such a point, they are also unconsciously
+returning to civilisation, and with the civilising influence arises the
+desire to ask the fatal question, "Whence art thou?"--or the fear lest the
+other may ask it, and the anxiety to find an answer where there is none
+that will bear scrutiny.
+
+It was therefore natural that the Count should feel disturbed at what he
+had done, in spite of his sincere and honourable wish to abide by his
+proposal and to make Vjera his wife. He felt that in returning to his own
+position in the world he owed it in a measure to himself to wed with a
+maiden of whom he could at least say that she came of honest people.
+Always centred in his own alternating hopes and fears, and conscious of
+little in the lives of others, it seemed to him that a great difficulty
+had suddenly revealed itself to his apprehensions. At the same time, by a
+self-contradiction familiar to such natures as his, he felt himself more
+and more strongly drawn to the girl, and more and more strictly bound in
+honour to marry her. As he thought of this, his habitual contempt of the
+world and its opinion returned. What had the world done for him? And if he
+had felt no obligation to consult it in his poverty, why need he bend to
+any such slavery in the coming days of his splendour? He stopped suddenly
+at the corner of the street in which the Polish girl lived. She lodged,
+with a little sister who was still too young to work, in a room she hired
+of a respectable Bohemian shoemaker. The latter's wife was of the
+sour-good kind, whose chief talent lies in giving their kind actions a
+hard-hearted appearance.
+
+"Vjera," said the Count, earnestly, "I have been talking a great deal
+about myself. You must forgive me, for the news I have received is so very
+important and makes such a sudden difference in my prospects. But you have
+not given me the answer I want to my question. Will you be my wife, Vjera,
+and come with me out of this wretched existence to share my happy life and
+to make it happier? Will you?"
+
+His tone was so sincere and loving that it produced a little storm of
+evanescent happiness in the girl's heart, and the tears started to her
+eyes and stained her sallow, waxen cheeks.
+
+"Ah, if it could only be true!" she exclaimed in a voice more than half
+full of hope, as she quickly brushed away the drops.
+
+"But it is true, indeed it is," answered the Count. "Oh, Vjera, do you
+think I would deceive you? Do you think I could tell you a story in which
+there is no truth whatever? Do not think that of me, Vjera."
+
+The tears broke out afresh, but from a different source. For some seconds
+she could not speak.
+
+"Why do you cry so bitterly?" he asked, not understanding at all what was
+passing. "I swear to you it is all true--"
+
+"It is not that--it is not that," cried Vjera. "I know--I know that you
+believe it--and I love you so very much--"
+
+"But then, I do not understand," said the Count in a low voice that
+expressed his pitiful perplexity. "How can I not believe it, when it is
+all in the letters? And why should you not believe it, too? Besides, Vjera
+dear, it will all be quite clear to-morrow. Of course--well, I can
+understand that having known me poor so long, it must seem strange to you
+to think of me as very rich. But I shall not be another man, for that. I
+shall always be the same for you, Vjera, always the same."
+
+"Yes, always the same," sighed the girl under her breath.
+
+"Yes, and so, if you love me to-day, you will love me just as well
+to-morrow--to-morrow, the great day for me. What day will it be? Let me
+see--to-morrow is Wednesday."
+
+"Wednesday, yes," repeated Vjera. "If only there were no to-morrow--" She
+checked herself. "I mean," she added, quickly, "if only it could be
+Thursday, without any day between."
+
+"You are a strange girl, Vjera. I do not know what you are thinking of
+to-day. But to-morrow you will see. I think they will come for me in the
+morning. You shall see, you shall see."
+
+Vjera began to move onward and the Count walked by her side, wondering at
+her manner and tormenting his brain in the vain effort to understand it.
+In front of her door he held out his hand.
+
+"Promise me one thing," he said, as she laid her fingers in his and looked
+up at him. Her eyes were still full of tears.
+
+"What is it?" she asked.
+
+"Promise that you will be my wife, when you are convinced that all this
+good fortune is real. You do not believe in it, though I cannot tell why.
+I only ask that when you are obliged to believe in it, you will do as I
+ask."
+
+Vjera hesitated, and as she stood still the hand he held trembled
+nervously.
+
+"I promise," she said, at last, as though with a great effort. Then, all
+at once, she covered her eyes and leaned against the door-post. He laid
+his hand caressingly upon her shoulder.
+
+"Is it so hard to say?" he asked, tenderly.
+
+"Oh, but if it should ever be indeed true!" she moaned. "If it should--if
+it should!"
+
+"What then? Shall we not be happy together? Will it not be even pleasant
+to remember these wretched years?"
+
+"But if it should turn out so--oh, how can I ever be a fitting wife for
+you, how can I learn all that a great lady must think, and do, and say? I
+shall be unworthy of you--of your new friends, of your new world--but
+then, it cannot really happen. No--do not speak of it any more, it hurts
+me too much--good-night, good-night! Let us sleep and forget, and go back
+to our work in the morning, as though nothing had happened--in the
+morning, to-morrow. Will you? Then good-night."
+
+"There will be no work to-morrow," he said, returning to his argument. But
+she broke away and fled from him and disappeared in the dark and narrow
+staircase. As he stood, he could hear her light tread on the creaking wood
+of the steps, fainter and fainter in the distance. Then he caught the
+feeble tinkle of a little bell, the opening and shutting of a door, and he
+was alone in the gloom of the evening.
+
+For some minutes he stood still, as though listening for some faint echo
+from the direction in which Vjera had disappeared, then he slowly and
+thoughtfully walked away. He had forgotten to eat at dinner-time, and now
+he forgot that the hour of the second meal had come round. He walked on,
+not knowing and not caring whither he went, absorbed in the contemplation
+of the bright pictures which framed themselves in his brain, troubled only
+by his ever-recurring wonder at Vjera's behaviour.
+
+Unconsciously, and from sheer force of habit, he threaded the streets in
+the direction of the tobacconist's shop where so much of his time was
+spent. If it be not true that the ghosts of the dead haunt places familiar
+to them in life, yet the superstition is founded upon the instincts of
+human nature. Men begin to haunt certain spots unconsciously while they
+are alive, especially those which they are obliged to visit every day and
+in which they are accustomed to sit, idle or at work, during the greater
+part of the week. The artist, when he wishes to be completely at rest,
+re-enters the studio he left but an hour earlier; the sailor hangs about
+the port when he is ashore, the shopman cannot resist the temptation to
+spend an hour among his wares on Sunday, the farmer is irresistibly drawn
+to the field to while away the time on holidays between dinner and supper.
+We all of us see more and understand better what we see, in those
+surroundings most familiar to us, and it is a general law that the average
+intelligence likes the best that which it understands with the least
+effort. The mechanical part of us, too, when free from any direct and
+especial impulse of the mind, does unknowingly what it has been in the
+habit of doing. Two-thirds of all the physical diseases in the world are
+caused by the disturbance of the mental habits and are vastly aggravated
+by the direction of the thoughts to the part afflicted. Idiots and madmen
+are often phenomenally healthy people, because there is in their case no
+unnatural effort of the mind to control and manage the body. The Count
+having bestowed no thought upon the direction of his walk, mechanically
+turned towards the scene of his daily labour.
+
+Considering that he believed himself to have abandoned for ever the
+irksome employment of rolling tobacco in a piece of parchment in order to
+slip it into a piece of paper, it might have been supposed that he would
+be glad to look at anything rather than the glass door of the shop in
+which he had repeated that operation so many hundreds of thousands of
+times; or, at least, it might have been expected that on realising where
+he was he would be satisfied with a glance of recognition and would turn
+away.
+
+But the Count's fate had ordained otherwise. When he reached the shop the
+lights were burning brightly in the show window and within. Through the
+glass door he could see that Fischelowitz was comfortably installed in a
+chair behind the counter, contentedly smoking one of his own best
+cigarettes, and smiling happily to himself through the fragrant cloud. If
+the tobacconist's wife had been present, the Count would have gone away
+without entering, for he did not like her, and had reason to suspect that
+she hated him, which was indeed the case. But Akulina was nowhere to be
+seen, the shop looked bright and cheerful, the Count was tired, he pushed
+the door and entered. Fischelowitz turned his head without modifying his
+smile, and seeing who his visitor was nodded familiarly. The Count raised
+his hat a little from his head and immediately replaced it.
+
+"Good-evening, Herr Fischelowitz," he said, speaking, as usual, in German.
+
+"Good-evening, Count," answered the tobacconist, cheerfully. "Sit down,
+and light a cigarette. What is the news?"
+
+"Great news with me, for to-morrow," said the other, bending his head as
+he stooped over the nickel-plated lamp on the counter, in which a tiny
+flame burned for the convenience of customers. "To-morrow, at this time, I
+shall be on my way to Petersburg."
+
+"Well, I hope so, for your sake," was the good-humoured reply. "But I am
+afraid it will always be to-morrow, Herr Graf."
+
+The Count shook his head after staring for a few seconds at his employer,
+and then smoked quietly, as though he attached no weight to the remark.
+Fischelowitz looked curiously at him, and during a brief moment the smile
+faded from his face.
+
+"You have not been long at supper," he remarked, after a pause. The
+observation was suggested by the condition of his own appetite.
+
+"Supper?" repeated the Count, rather vaguely. "I believe I had forgotten
+all about it. I will go presently."
+
+"The Count is reserving himself for to-morrow," said an ironical voice in
+the background. Akulina entered the shop from the workroom, a guttering
+candle in a battered candlestick in one hand, and a number of gaily
+coloured pasteboard boxes tucked under the other arm. "What is the use of
+eating to-day when there will be so many good things to-morrow?"
+
+Neither Fischelowitz nor the Count vouchsafed any answer to this thrust.
+For the second time, since the Count had entered, however, the tobacconist
+wore an expression approaching to gravity. The Count himself kept his
+composure admirably, only glancing coldly at Akulina, and then looking at
+his cigarette. Akulina is a broad, fat woman, with a flattened Tartar
+face, small eyes, good but short teeth, full lips and a dark complexion.
+She reminds one of an over-fed tabby cat, of doubtful temper, and her
+voice seems to reach utterance after traversing some thick, soft medium,
+which lends it an odd sort of guttural richness. She moves quietly but
+heavily and has an Asiatic second sight in the matter of finance. In
+matters of thrift and foresight her husband places implicit confidence in
+her judgment. In matters of generosity and kindness implying the use of
+money, he never consults her.
+
+"It is amazing to see how much people will believe," she said, putting out
+her candle and snuffing it with her thumb and forefinger. Then she began
+to arrange the boxes she had brought, setting them in order upon the
+shelves. Still neither of the men answered her. But she was not the woman
+to be reduced to silence by silence.
+
+"I am always telling you that it is all rubbish," she continued, turning a
+broad expanse of alpaca-covered back upon her audience. "I am always
+telling you that you are no more a count than Fischelowitz is a grand
+duke, that the whole thing is a foolish imagination which you have stuck
+into your head, as one sticks tobacco into a paper shell. And it ought to
+be burned out of your head, or starved out, or knocked out, or something,
+for if it stays there it will addle your brains altogether. Why cannot you
+see that you are in the world just like other people, and give up all
+these ridiculous dreams and all this chatter about counts and princes and
+such like people, of whom you never spoke to one in your life, for all you
+may say?"
+
+The Count glanced at the back of Akulina's head, which was decently
+covered by a flattened twist of very shining black hair, and then he
+looked at Fischelowitz as though to inquire whether the latter would
+suffer a gentleman to be thus insulted in his presence and on his
+premises. Fischelowitz seemed embarrassed, and coloured a little.
+
+"You might choose your language a little more carefully, wife," he
+observed in a rather timid tone.
+
+"And you might choose your friends with a better view to your own
+interests," she answered without hesitation. "If you allow this sort of
+thing to go on, and four children growing up, and you expecting to open
+another shop this summer--why, you had better turn count yourself," she
+concluded, triumphantly, and with that nice logical perception peculiar to
+her kind.
+
+"If you mean to say that the Count's valuable help has not been to our
+advantage--" began Fischelowitz, making a desperate effort to give a more
+pleasant look to things.
+
+"Oh, I know that," laughed Akulina, scornfully. "I know that the Count, as
+you call him, can make his two thousand a day as well as any one. I am not
+blind. And I know you, and I know that it is a sort of foolish pleasure to
+you to employ a count in the work and to pay your money to a count, though
+he does not earn it any better than any one else, nor any worse, to be
+just. And I know the Count, and I know his friends who borrow fifty marks
+of you and pay you back in stuffed dolls with tunes in them. I know you,
+Christian Gregorovitch"--at the thought of the lost money Akulina broke at
+last into her native language and gave the reins to her fury in good
+Russian--"yes, I know you, and him, and his friends and your friends, and
+I see the good yellow money flying out of the window like a flight of
+canary birds when the cage is opened, and I see you grinning like
+Player-Ape over the vile Vienna puppet, and winding up its abominable
+music as though you were turning the key upon your money in the safe
+instead of listening to the tune of its departure. And then because
+Akulina has the courage to tell you the truth, and to tell you that your
+fine Count is no count, and that his friends get from you ten times the
+money he earns, then you turn on me like a bear, ready to bite off my
+head, and you tell me to choose my language! Is there no shame in you,
+Christian Gregorovitch, or is there also no understanding? Am I the mother
+of your four children or not? I would like to ask. I suppose you cannot
+deny that, whatever else you deny which is true, and you tell me to choose
+my language! _Da_, I will choose my language, in truth! _Da_, I will
+choose out such a swarm of words as ought to sting your ears like hornets,
+if you had not such a leathery skin and such a soft brain inside it. But
+why should I? It is thrown away. There is no shame in you. You see
+nothing, you care for nothing, you hear no reason, you feel no argument. I
+will go home and make soup. I am better there than in the shop. Oh yes! it
+is always that. Akulina can make good things to eat, and good tea and good
+punch to drink, and Akulina is the Archangel Michael in the kitchen. But
+if Akulina says to you, 'Save a penny here, do not lend more than you have
+there,' Akulina is a fool and must be told to choose her language, lest it
+be too indelicate for the dandified ears of the high-born gentleman! I
+should not wonder if, by choosing her language carefully enough, Akulina
+ended by making the high-born gentleman understand something after all.
+His perception cannot possibly be so dull as yours, Christian
+Gregorovitch, my little husband."
+
+Akulina paused for breath after her tremendous invective, which, indeed,
+was only intended by her for the preface of the real discourse, so fertile
+was her imagination and so thoroughly roused was her eloquence by the
+sense of injury received. While she was speaking, Fischelowitz, whose
+terror of his larger half was only relative, had calmly risen and had
+wound up the "Wiener Gigerl" to the extreme of the doll's powers, placing
+it on the counter before him and sitting down before it in anticipation of
+the amusement he expected to derive from its performance. In the short
+silence which ensued while Akulina was resting her lungs for a second and
+more deadly effort, the wretched little musical box made itself heard,
+clicking and scratching and grinding out a miserable little polka. At the
+sound, the sunny smile returned to the tobacconist's face. He knew that no
+earthly eloquence, no scathing wit, no brutal reply could possibly
+exasperate his wife as this must. He resented everything she had said, and
+in his vulgar way he was ashamed that she should have said it before the
+Count, and now he was glad that by the mere turning of a key he could
+answer her storm of words in a way to drive her to fury, while at the same
+time showing his own indifference. As for the Count himself, he had moved
+nearer to the door and was looking quietly out into the irregularly
+lighted street, smoking as though he had not heard a word of what had been
+said. As he stood, it was impossible for either of the others to see his
+face, and he betrayed no agitation by movement or gesture.
+
+Akulina turned pale to the lips, as her husband had anticipated. It is
+probable that the most tragic event conceivable in her existence could not
+have affected her more powerfully than the twang of the musical box and
+the twisting and turning of the insolent little wooden head. She came
+round to the front of the counter with gleaming eyes and clenched fists.
+
+"Stop that thing!" she cried, "Stop it, or it will drive me mad."
+
+Fischelowitz still smiled, and the doll continued to turn round and round
+to the tune, while the Count looked out through the open door. Suddenly
+there was a quick shadow on the brightly lighted floor of the shop,
+followed instantly by a crash, and then with a miserable attempt to finish
+its tune the little instrument gave a resounding groan and was silent.
+Akulina had struck the Gigerl such a blow as had sent it flying, pedestal
+and all, past her husband's head into a dark corner behind the counter.
+Fischelowitz reddened with anger, and Akulina stood ready to take to
+flight, glad that the broad counter was between herself and her husband.
+Her fury had spent itself in one blow and she would have given anything to
+set the doll up in its place again unharmed. She realised at the same
+instant that she had probably destroyed any intrinsic value which the
+thing had possessed, and her face fell wofully. The Count turned slowly
+where he stood and looked at the couple.
+
+"Are you going to fight each other?" he inquired in unusually bland tones.
+
+At the sound of his voice the Russian woman's anger rose again, glad to
+find some new object upon which to expend itself and on which to exercise
+vengeance for the catastrophe its last expression had brought about. She
+turned savagely upon the Count and shook her plump brown fists in his
+face.
+
+"It is all your fault!" she exclaimed. "What business have you to come
+between husband and wife with your friends and your cursed dolls, the
+fiend take them, and you! Is it for this that Christian Gregorovitch and I
+have lived together in harmony these ten years and more? Is it for this
+that we have lived without a word of anger--"
+
+"What did you say?" asked Fischelowitz, with an angry laugh. But she did
+not heed him.
+
+"Without a word of anger between us, these many years?" she continued. "Is
+it for this? To have our peace destroyed by a couple of Wiener Gigerls, a
+doll and a sham count? But it is over now! It is over, I tell you--go, get
+yourself out of the shop, out of my sight, into the street where you
+belong! For honest folks to be harbouring such a fellow as you are, and
+not you only, but your friends and your rag and your tag! Fie! If you stay
+here long we shall end in dust and feathers! But you shall not stay here,
+whatever that soft-brained husband of mine says. You shall go and never
+come back. Do you think that in all Munich there is no one else who will
+do the work for three marks a thousand? Bah! there are scores, and honest
+people, too, who call themselves by plain names and speak plainly! None of
+your counts and your grand dukes and your Lord-knows-whats! Go, you
+adventurer, you disturber of--why do you look at me like that? I have
+always known the truth about you, and I have never been able to bear the
+sight of you and never shall. You have deceived my husband, poor man,
+because he is not as clever as he is good-natured, but you never could
+deceive me, try as you would, and the Lord knows, you have tried often
+enough. Pah! You good-for-nothing!"
+
+The poor Count had drawn back against the well-filled shop and had turned
+deadly pale as she heaped insult upon insult upon him in her incoherent
+and foul-mouthed anger. As soon as she paused, exhausted by the effort to
+find epithets to suit her hatred of him, he went up to the counter where
+Fischelowitz was sitting, very much disturbed at the course events were
+taking.
+
+"My dear Count," began the latter, anxious to set matters right, "pray do
+not pay any attention--"
+
+"I think I had better say good-bye," answered the Count in a low tone. "We
+part on good terms, though you might have said a word for me just now."
+
+"He dare not!" cried Akulina.
+
+"And as for the doll, if you will give it to me, I promise you that you
+shall have your fifty marks to-morrow."
+
+"Oho! He knows where to get fifty marks, now!" exclaimed Akulina,
+viciously.
+
+Fischelowitz picked up the puppet, which was broken in two in the waist,
+so that the upper half of the body hung down by the legs, in a limp
+fashion, held only by the little red coat. The tobacconist wrapped it up
+in a piece of newspaper without a word and handed it to the Count. He felt
+perhaps that the only atonement he could offer for his wife's brutal
+conduct was to accede to the request.
+
+"Thank you," said the Count, taking the thing. "On the word of a gentleman
+you shall have the money before to-morrow night."
+
+"A good riddance of both of them," snarled Akulina, as the Count lifted
+his hat and then, his head bent more than was his wont, passed out of the
+shop with the remains of the poor Gigerl under his arm.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+The Count had no precise object in view when he hurriedly left the shop
+with the parcel containing the broken doll. What he most desired for the
+moment was to withdraw himself from the storm of Akulina's abuse, seeing
+that he had no means of checking the torrent, nor of exacting satisfaction
+for the insults received. However he might have acted had the aggressor
+been a man, he was powerless when attacked by a woman, and he was aware
+that he had followed the only course which had in it anything of dignity
+and self-respect. To stand and bandy words and epithets of abuse would
+have been worse than useless, to treat the tobacconist like a gentleman
+and to hold him responsible for his wife's language would have been more
+than absurd. So the Count took the remains of the puppet and went on his
+way.
+
+He was not, however, so superior to good and bad treatment as not to feel
+deeply wounded and thoroughly roused to anger. Perhaps, if he had been
+already in possession of the fortune and dignity which he expected on the
+morrow, he might have smiled contemptuously at the virago's noisy wrath,
+feeling nothing and caring even less what she felt towards him. But he had
+too long been poor and wretched to bear with equanimity any reference to
+his wretchedness or his poverty, and he was too painfully conscious of the
+weight of outward circumstances in determining men's judgments of their
+fellows not to be stung by the words that had been so angrily applied to
+him. Moreover, and worst of all, there was the fact that Fischelowitz had
+really lent the money to a poor countryman who had previously made the
+acquaintance of the Count, and had by that means induced the tobacconist
+to help him. It was true, indeed, that the poor Count had himself lent the
+fellow all he had in his pocket, which meant all that he had in the world,
+and had been half starved in consequence during a whole week. The man was
+an idle vagabond of the worst type, with a pitiful tale of woe well worded
+and logically put together, out of which he made a good livelihood.
+Nature, as though to favour his designs, had given him a face which
+excited sympathy, and he had the wit to cover his eyes, his own tell-tale
+feature, with coloured glasses. He had cheated several scores of persons
+in the Slav colony of Munich, and had then gone in search of other
+pastures. How he had obtained possession of the Wiener Gigerl was a
+mystery as yet unsolved. It had certainly seemed odd in the tobacconist's
+opinion that a man of such outward appearance should have received such an
+extremely improbable Christmas present, for such the adventurer declared
+the doll to be, from a rich aunt in Warsaw, who refused to give him a
+penny of ready money and had caused him to be turned from her doors by her
+servants when he had last visited her, on the ground that he had joined
+the Russian Orthodox Church without her consent. The facetious young
+villain had indeed declared that she had sent him the puppet as a piece of
+scathing irony, illustrative of his character as she conceived it. But
+though such an illustration would have been apt beyond question, yet it
+seemed improbable that the aunt would have chosen such a means of
+impressing it upon her nephew's mind. Fischelowitz, however, asked no
+questions, and took the Gigerl as payment of the debt. The thing amused
+him, and it diverted him to construct an imaginary chain of circumstances
+to explain how the man in the coloured glasses had got possession of it.
+It was of course wholly inconceivable that even the most accomplished
+shop-lifter should have carried off an object of such inconvenient
+proportions from the midst of its fellows and under the very eyes of the
+vendor. If he had supposed a theft possible, Fischelowitz would never have
+allowed the doll to remain on his premises a single day. He was too
+kind-hearted, also, to blame the Count, as his wife did, for having been
+the promoter of the loan, for he readily admitted that he would have lent
+as much, had he made the vagabond's acquaintance under any other
+circumstances.
+
+But the Count, since Akulina had expressed herself with so much force and
+precision, could not look upon the affair in the same light. However
+Fischelowitz regarded it, Akulina had made it clear that the Count ought
+to be held responsible for the loss, and it was not in the nature of such
+a man, no matter how wretched his own estate, to submit to the imputation
+of being concerned in borrowing money which was never to be repaid. His
+natural impulse had been to promise repayment instantly, and as he was
+expecting to be turned into a rich man on the morrow the engagement seemed
+an easy one to keep. It would be more difficult to explain why he wanted
+to take away the broken puppet with him. Possibly he felt that in removing
+it from the shop, he was taking with it even the memory of the transaction
+of which the blame had been so bitterly thrown on him; or, possibly, he
+was really attached to the toy for its associations, or, lastly, he may
+have felt impelled to save it from Akulina's destroying wrath, so far as
+it yet could be said to be saved.
+
+As has been said, he had not dined on that day, and he would very probably
+have forgotten to eat, even after being reminded of the meal by the
+tobacconist, had he not passed, on his way homeward, the obscure
+restaurant in which he and the other men who worked for Fischelowitz were
+accustomed to get their food and drink. This fifth-rate eating-house
+rejoiced in the attractive name of the "Green Wreath," a designation
+painted in large dusty green Gothic letters upon the grey walls of the
+dilapidated house in which it was situated. There are not to be found in
+respectable Munich those dens of filth and drunkenness which belong to
+greater cities whose vices are in proportion greater also. In Munich the
+strength of fiery spirits is drowned in oceans of mild beer, a liquid of
+which the head will stand more than the waistband and which, instead of
+exciting to crime, predisposes the consumer to peaceful and lengthened
+sleep. The worst that can be said of the poorer public-houses in Munich,
+is that they are frequented by the poorer people, and that as the
+customers bring less money than elsewhere, there is less drinking in
+proportion, and a greater demand for large quantities of very filling food
+at very low rates. As a general rule, such places are clean and decently
+kept, and the sight of a drunken man in the public room would excite very
+considerable astonishment, besides entailing upon the culprit a summary
+expulsion into the street and a rather forcible injunction not to repeat
+the offence.
+
+The four windows of the establishment which opened upon the narrow street
+were open, for the weather had become sultry even out of doors, and the
+guests wanted fresh air. At one of these windows the Count saw the heads
+of Dumnoff and Schmidt. With the instinct of the poor man, the Count felt
+in his pocket to see whether he had any money, and was somewhat disturbed
+to find but a solitary piece of silver, feebly supported on either side by
+a couple of one-penny pieces. He had forgotten that he had refused to
+accept his pay for the day's work, and it required an effort of memory to
+account for the low state of his funds. But what he had with him was
+sufficient for his wants, and settling his parcel under his arm he
+ascended the three or four steps which gave access to the inn, and entered
+the public room. Besides the Russian and the Cossack, there were three
+public porters seated at the next table, dressed in their blue blouses,
+their red cloth caps hanging on the pegs over their heads, all silent and
+similarly engaged. Each had before him a piece of that national cheese of
+which the smell may almost be heard, each had lately received a thick,
+irregularly-shaped hunch of dark bread, and they had one pot of beer and
+one salt-cellar amongst them. They all had honest German faces, honest
+blue eyes, horny hands and round shoulders. Another table, in a far
+corner, was occupied by a poorly-dressed old woman in black, dusty and
+evidently tired. A covered basket stood on a chair at her elbow, she was
+eating an unwholesome-looking "knödel" or boiled potato ball, and half a
+pint of beer stood before her still untouched. As for the Cossack and
+Dumnoff, they had finished their meal. The former was smoking a cigarette
+through a mouth-piece made by boring out the well-dried leg-bone of a
+chicken and was drinking nothing. Dumnoff had before him a small glass of
+the common whisky known as "corn-brandy" and was trying to give it a
+flavour resembling the vodka of his native land by stirring pepper into it
+with the blade of an old pocket-knife. Both looked up, without betraying
+any surprise, as the Count entered and sat himself down at the end of
+their oblong table, facing the open window and with his back to the room.
+A word of greeting passed on each side and the two relapsed into silence,
+while the Count ordered a sausage "with horse-radish" of the sour-sweet
+maiden of five-and-thirty who waited on the guests. The Cossack, always
+observant of such things, looked at the oddly-shaped package which the
+Count had brought with him, trying to divine its contents and signally
+failing in the attempt. Dumnoff, who did not like the Count's
+gentlemanlike manners and fine speech, sullenly stirred the fiery mixture
+he was concocting. The colour on his prominent cheek-bones was a little
+brighter than before supper, but otherwise it was impossible to say that
+he was the worse for the half-pint of spirits he had certainly absorbed
+since leaving his work. The man's strong peasant nature was proof against
+far greater excesses than his purse could afford.
+
+"What is the news?" inquired Johann Schmidt, still eyeing the bundle
+curiously, and doubtless hoping that the Count would soon inform him of
+the contents. But the latter saw the look and glanced suspiciously at the
+questioner.
+
+"No news, that I know of," he answered. "Except for me," he added, after a
+pause, and looking dreamily out of the window at a street lamp that was
+burning opposite. "To-morrow, at this time, I shall be off."
+
+"And where are you going?" asked the Cossack, good-humouredly. "Are you
+going for long, if I may ask?"
+
+"Yes--yes. I shall never come back to Munich." He had been speaking in
+German, but noticing that the other guests in the room were silent, and
+thinking that they might listen, he broke off into Russian. "I shall go
+home, at last," he said, his face brightening perceptibly as his visions
+of wealth again rose before his eyes. "I shall go home and rest myself for
+a long time in the country, and then, next winter, perhaps, I will go to
+Petersburg."
+
+"Well, well, I wish you a pleasant journey," said Schmidt. "So there is to
+be no mistake about the fortune this time?"
+
+"This time?" repeated the Count, as though not understanding. "Why do you
+say this time?"
+
+"Because you have so often expected it before," returned the Cossack
+bluntly, but without malice.
+
+"I do not remember ever saying so," said the other, evidently searching
+among his recollections.
+
+"Every Tuesday," growled Dumnoff, sipping his peppery liquor. "Every
+Tuesday since I can remember."
+
+"I think you must be mistaken," said the Count, politely.
+
+Dumnoff grunted something quite incomprehensible, and which might have
+been taken for the clearing of his huge throat after the inflaming
+draught. The Cossack was silent, and his bright eyes looked pityingly at
+his companion.
+
+"And you have begun to put together your parcels for the journey, I see,"
+he observed after a time, when the Count had got his morsel of food and
+was beginning to eat it. His curiosity gave him no rest.
+
+"Yes," answered the Count, mysteriously. "That is something which I shall
+probably take with me, as a remembrance of Munich."
+
+"I should not have thought that you needed anything more than a cigarette
+to remind you of the place," remarked Dumnoff.
+
+The Count smiled faintly, for, considering Dumnoff's natural dulness, the
+remark had a savour of wit in it.
+
+"That is true," he said. "But there are other things which could remind me
+even more forcibly of my exile."
+
+"Well, what is it? Tell us!" cried Dumnoff, impatiently enough, but
+somewhat softened by the Count's appreciation of his humour. At the same
+time he put out his broad red hand in the direction of the parcel as
+though he would see for himself.
+
+"Let it be!" said Schmidt sharply, and Dumnoff withdrew his hand again. He
+had fallen into the habit of always doing what the Cossack told him to do,
+obeying mutely, like a well-trained dog, though he obeyed no one else. The
+descendant of freemen instinctively lorded it over the descendant of the
+serf, and the latter as instinctively submitted.
+
+The Count's temper, however, was singularly changeable on this day, for he
+did not seem to resent Dumnoff's meditated attack upon the package, as he
+would certainly have done under ordinary circumstances.
+
+"If you are so very curious to know what it is, I will tell you," he said.
+"You know the Wiener Gigerl?"
+
+"Of course," answered both men together.
+
+"Well, that is it, in that parcel."
+
+"The Gigerl!" exclaimed the Cossack. Dumnoff only opened his small eyes in
+stupid amazement. Both knew something of the circumstances under which
+Fischelowitz had come into possession of the doll, and both knew what
+store the tobacconist set by it.
+
+"Then you have paid the fifty marks?" asked Schmidt, whose curiosity was
+roused instead of satisfied.
+
+"No. I shall pay the money to-morrow. I have promised to do so. As it
+chances, it will be convenient." The Count smiled to himself in a meaning
+way, as though already enjoying the triumph of laying the gold pieces upon
+the counter under Akulina's flat nose.
+
+"And yet Fischelowitz has already given it to you! He must be very sure of
+you--" With his usual lack of tact, Schmidt had gone further than he meant
+to do, but the transaction savoured of the marvellous.
+
+"To be strictly truthful," said the Count, who had a Quixotic fear of
+misleading in the smallest degree any one to whom he was speaking, "to be
+exactly honest, there is a circumstance which makes it less remarkable
+that Fischelowitz should have given me the doll at once."
+
+"Of course, of course!" exclaimed the Cossack, anxious to appear credulous
+out of kindness. "Fischelowitz knows as well as you do yourself how safe
+you are to get the money to-morrow."
+
+"Naturally," replied the Count, with great calmness. "But besides that,
+the Gigerl is broken--badly broken in the middle, and the musical box is
+spoiled too."
+
+"Fischelowitz must have been very angry," observed Dumnoff.
+
+"Not at all. It was his wife. Akulina knocked it from the counter into the
+farthest corner of the shop."
+
+"Tell us all about it," said Schmidt, more interested than ever.
+
+"Ah, that--that is quite another matter," answered the Count, reddening
+perceptibly as he remembered Akulina's furious abuse.
+
+"If you do not, I have no doubt that she will," said Dumnoff, taking
+another sip. "She always gives the news of you, before you come in the
+morning, before we have made our first hundred."
+
+The Count grew redder still, the angry colour mantling in his lean cheeks.
+He hesitated a moment, and then made up his mind.
+
+"If that is likely to happen," he cried, "I had better tell you the truth
+myself, instead of giving her an opportunity of distorting it."
+
+"Much better," said the Cossack, eagerly. "One can believe you better than
+her."
+
+"That is true, at all events," chimed in Dumnoff, who was only brutal and
+never malicious.
+
+"Well, it happened in this way. Fischelowitz and I were talking of
+to-morrow, I think, when she came in from the back shop, having overheard
+something we had been saying. Of course she immediately took advantage of
+my presence to exercise her wit upon me, a proceeding to which I have
+grown accustomed, seeing that she is only a woman. Then Fischelowitz told
+her to choose her language, and that started her afresh. It was rather a
+fine specimen of chosen language that she gave us, for she has a good
+command of our beautiful mother-tongue. She found very strong words, and
+she said among other things that it was my fault that her husband had got
+a Wiener Gigerl for fifty marks of good money. And then Fischelowitz, in
+his easy way and while she was talking, wound the doll up and set it
+before him on the counter and smiled at it. But she went on, worse than
+before, and called me everything under the sun. Of course I could do
+nothing but wait until she had finished, for I could not beat her, and I
+would not let her think that she could drive me away by mere talk, bad as
+it was."
+
+"What did she call you?" asked Dumnoff, with a grin.
+
+"She called me a good-for-nothing," said the Count, reddening with anger
+again, so that the veins stood out on his throat above his collar. "And
+she called me, I think, an adventurer."
+
+"Is that all?" laughed Dumnoff. "I have been called by worse names than
+that in my time!"
+
+"I have not," answered the Count, with sudden coolness. "However, between
+me and Fischelowitz and the Gigerl, she grew so angry that she struck the
+only one of us three against whom she dared lift hand. That member of the
+company chanced to be the unfortunate doll. And then I promised that
+to-morrow I would pay the money, and I made Fischelowitz give it to me in
+a piece of newspaper, and there it is."
+
+"What a terrible smash there must have been in the shop!" said Dumnoff. "I
+would like to have seen the lady's face."
+
+In their Russian speech, the difference between the original social
+standing of the three men who now worked as equals, was well defined by
+their way of speaking of Fischelowitz's wife. To Dumnoff, mujik by origin
+and by nature, she was "barina," the town "lady," to the Cossack she was
+"chosjaika," the "mistress," the wife of the "patron"--to the Count she
+was Akulina, and when he addressed her he called her Akulina Feodorovna,
+adding the derivative of her father's name in accordance with the
+universal Russian custom.
+
+"Let us see the doll," said Schmidt, still curious. The Count, whose
+eating had been interrupted by the telling of his story, pushed the parcel
+towards the Cossack with one hand, while using his fork with the other.
+
+Johann Schmidt carefully unwrapped the newspaper and exposed the
+unfortunate Gigerl to view. Then with both hands he set it up before him,
+raising the limp figure from the waist, and trying to put it into
+position, until it almost recovered something of its old look of
+insolence, though the eye-glass was broken and the little white hat sadly
+battered. The three men contemplated it in silence, and the other guests
+turned curious glances towards it. Dumnoff, as usual, laughed hoarsely.
+
+"Rather the worse for wear," he observed.
+
+"Kreuzmillionendonnerwetter! That is my Gigerl!" roared a deep German
+voice across the room.
+
+The three Russians started and looked round quickly. One of the porters, a
+burly man with an angry scowl on his honest face, was already on his legs
+and was striding towards the table.
+
+"That is my Gigerl!" he repeated, laying one heavy hand upon the board,
+and thrusting the forefinger of the other under the doll's nose.
+
+Dumnoff stared at him with an expression which showed that he did not in
+the least understand what was happening. Johann Schmidt's keen black eyes
+looked wonderingly from the porter to the Count, while the latter leaned
+back in his chair, contemplating the angry man with a calm surprise which
+proved how little faith he placed in the assertion of possession.
+
+"You are under a mistake," he said, with great politeness. "This doll is
+the property of Herr Fischelowitz, the well-known tobacconist, and has
+stood in the window of his shop nearly four months. These gentlemen"--he
+waved his hand towards his two companions--"are well aware of the fact and
+can vouch--"
+
+"That is all the same to me," interrupted the porter. "This is the Gigerl
+which was stolen from me on New Year's eve--"
+
+"I repeat," said the Count, with dignity, "that you are altogether
+mistaken. I will trouble you to leave us in peace and to make no more
+disturbance, where you are evidently in error."
+
+His coolness exasperated the porter, who seemed very sure of what he
+asserted.
+
+"That is what we shall see," he retorted in a menacing tone. "Meanwhile it
+does not occur to me to leave you in peace and to make no more trouble. I
+tell you that this Gigerl was stolen from me on New Year's eve. I know it
+well enough, for I had to pay for it."
+
+"How can you prove that this is the one?" inquired the Cossack, who was
+beginning to lose his temper.
+
+"You have nothing to say about it," said the porter, sharply. "I have to
+do with this man"--he pointed down at the Count--"who has brought the doll
+here, and pretends to know where it comes from."
+
+"Kerl!" exclaimed the Count, angrily. "Fellow! I am not accustomed to
+being called 'man,' or to having my word doubted. You had better be
+civil."
+
+"Then it is high time that you grew used to it," returned the porter,
+growing more and more excited. "The police do not overwhelm fellows of
+your kind with politeness."
+
+"Fellows?" cried the Count, losing his self-control altogether at being
+called by the name he had just applied to the porter. Without a moment's
+hesitation, he sprang from his chair, upsetting it behind him, and took
+the burly German by the throat.
+
+"Call a policeman, Anton!" shouted the latter to one of his companions, as
+he closed with his antagonist.
+
+The two other porters had risen from their places as soon as the Count had
+laid his hands on their friend, and the one who answered to the name of
+Anton promptly trotted towards the door, his heavy tread making the whole
+room shake as he ran. The other came up quickly and attacked the Count
+from behind, when Dumnoff, aroused at last to the pleasant consciousness
+that a real fight was going on, brought down his clenched fist with such
+earnestness of purpose on the top of the second porter's crown that the
+latter reeled backwards and fell across the Count's chair in an attitude
+rendered highly uncomfortable by the fact that the said chair had been
+turned upside down at the beginning of the contest. Having satisfied
+himself that the blow had taken effect, Dumnoff proceeded to the other
+side of the field of battle, avoiding the quickly moving bodies of the
+Count and the porter as they wrestled with each other, and the mujik
+prepared to deal another sledge-hammer blow, in all respects comparable
+with the first. A pleasant smile beamed and spread over his broad, bony
+face as he lifted his fist, and it is comparatively certain that he would
+have put an effectual end to the struggle, had not Schmidt interfered with
+the execution of his amiable intentions by catching his arm in mid-air.
+Even the Cossack's wiry strength could not arrest the descent of the
+tremendous fist, but he succeeded at least in diverting it from its aim,
+so that it took effect in the middle of the porter's back, knocking most
+of the wind out of the man's body and causing a diversion favourable to
+the Count's security. Schmidt sprang in and separated the combatants.
+
+"There has been enough dancing already," he said, coolly, as he faced the
+porter, who was gasping for breath. "But if you have not danced enough, I
+shall be happy to take a turn with you round the room."
+
+The poor Count would, indeed, have been no match for his adversary without
+the assistance of his friends. He possessed that sort of courage which,
+when stung into activity by an insult, takes no account whatever of the
+consequences, and his thin frame was animated by very excitable nerves.
+But an exceedingly lean diet, and the habit of sitting during many hours
+in a close atmosphere, rolling tobacco with his fingers, did not
+constitute such a physical training as to make him a match for a rough
+fellow whose occupation consisted in tramping long distances and up and
+down long flights of stairs from morning till night, loaded with more or
+less heavy burdens. He was now very pale and his heart beat painfully as
+he endeavoured instinctively to smooth his long frock-coat, from which a
+button had been torn out by the roots in a very apparent place, and to
+settle his starched collar, which at the best of times owed its stability
+to the secret virtues of a pin, and which at present had made a quarter of
+a revolution upon itself, so that the stiffly-starched corners, the
+Count's chief coquetry and pride, had established themselves in an
+unseemly manner immediately below the left ear.
+
+Meanwhile, the little restaurant was in an uproar. The host, a thin, pale
+man in an apron and a shabby embroidered cap, had suddenly appeared from
+the depths of the taproom, accompanied by his wife, a monstrous, red-faced
+creature clothed in a grey flannel frock. The porter whom Dumnoff had
+felled, and who was not altogether stunned, was kicking violently in the
+attempt to gain his feet among the fallen chairs, a dozen people had come
+in from the street at the noise of the fight and stood near the door,
+phlegmatically watching the proceedings, and the poor old woman from the
+country, who had been supping in the corner, had got her basket on her
+knees, holding its handle tightly in one hand and with the other grasping
+her half-finished glass of beer, in terror lest some accident should cause
+the precious liquid to be spilled, but not calm enough to put it in a
+place of safety by the simple process of swallowing.
+
+"They are foreigners," remarked some one in the crowd at the door.
+
+"They are probably Bohemian journeymen," said a tinman who stood in front
+of the others. "It serves them right for interfering with an honest
+porter." The Bohemian journeymen are detested in Munich on account of
+their willingness to work for low prices, which perhaps accounted for the
+tinman's readiness to consider the strangers as worsted in the contest.
+
+"We Germans fear God, and nothing else in the world," observed a
+mealy-faced shoemaker, quoting Prince Bismarck's famous speech.
+
+The man who had wrestled with the Count seemed to have resigned himself to
+the course of awaiting the police, and leaned back against the table
+behind him, with folded arms, glaring at the Cossack, while the Count was
+vainly attempting to recover possession of the pin which had fastened his
+collar, and which he evidently suspected of having slipped down his back,
+with the total depravity peculiar to all inanimate things when they are
+most needed. But the second porter, having broken the chair, upset a table
+covered with unused saucers for beer glasses, and otherwise materially
+contributing to swell the din and increase the already considerable havoc,
+had regained his feet and lost no time in making for Dumnoff. The Russian,
+enchanted at the prospect of a renewal of hostilities so unfortunately
+interrupted, met the newcomer half-way, and, each embracing the other with
+cheerful alacrity, the two heavy men began to stamp and turn round and
+round with each other like a couple of particularly awkward bears
+attempting to waltz together. They were very evenly matched for a
+wrestling bout, for although the German was by a couple of inches the
+taller of the two, the Russian had the advantage in breadth of shoulder
+and length of arm, as well as in the enormous strength of his back. The
+Cossack, having assured himself that there was to be fair-play, watched
+the proceedings with evident interest, while the pale-faced host shambled
+round and round the room, imploring the combatants to respect the
+reputation of his house and to desist, while keeping himself at a safe
+distance from possible collision with the bodies of the two, as they
+staggered and strained, and reeled and whirled about.
+
+The Count at last abandoned the search of the lost pin, and having pulled
+the front of his collar into a more normal position trusted to luck to
+keep it there. The table at which the three had originally sat had
+miraculously escaped upsetting, and on it lay the poor Gigerl, stretched
+at full length on its back, calm and smiling in the midst of the noise and
+confusion, like the corpse at an Irish wake after the whisky has begun to
+take effect.
+
+The Count now thought it necessary to justify the unfortunate situation in
+which he found himself, in the judgment of the spectators.
+
+"Gentlemen," he began, very earnestly and with a dignified gesture, "I
+feel it necessary to explain the truth of this--" But he was interrupted
+by the arrival of a policeman, who pushed his way through the crowd.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+"What is this row?" inquired the policeman in his official voice, as he
+marched into the room.
+
+The man who was wrestling with Dumnoff was a German and a soldier. At the
+authoritative words he relaxed his hold and made an effort to free
+himself, a movement of which the Russian instantly took advantage by
+throwing his adversary heavily, upsetting another table and thereby
+bringing the confusion to its crisis. How far he would have gone if he had
+been left to himself is uncertain, for the sudden appearance of two more
+men in green coats, helmets and gold collars so emboldened the spectators
+of the fight that they advanced in a body just as Dumnoff threw himself
+upon the first policeman. The Russian's red face was wet with
+perspiration, his small eyes were gleaming ferociously and his thick hair
+hung in tangled locks over his forehead, producing with his fair beard the
+appearance of a wild animal's mane. But for the timely assistance of his
+colleagues, the representatives of the law, and, most likely the majority
+of the spectators would have found themselves in the street in an
+exceedingly short space of time. But Dumnoff yielded to the inevitable; a
+couple of well-planted blows delivered by the rescuing party on the sides
+of his thick skull made him shake his head as a cat does when its nose is
+sprinkled with water, and the mujik reluctantly relinquished the struggle.
+At the same time the porter who had claimed the doll came forward and
+touched his bare head with a military salute.
+
+"What is your name?" asked the first policeman, anxious to get to
+business.
+
+"Jacob Goggelmann, Dienstmann number 87, formerly private in the Fourth
+Artillery, lately messenger in the Thüringer Doll Manufactory."
+
+"Very good," said the policeman, anxious to take the side of his
+countryman from the first, and certainly justified in doing so by the
+circumstances. "And what is your complaint?"
+
+"That doll, there, on the table," said the porter, "was stolen from me on
+New Year's eve, and now that man"--he pointed to the Count, who stood
+stiffly looking on--"that man has got possession of it."
+
+"And who stole it from you?" inquired the policeman with that acuteness in
+the art of cross-examination for which the police are in all countries so
+justly famous.
+
+"Ja, Herr Wachtmeister, if I had known that--" suggested the porter.
+
+"Of course, of course," interrupted the other. "That man stole the doll
+from you, you say?"
+
+"Somebody stole it with my basket, as I stopped to drink a measure in the
+yard of the Hofbräuhaus, and I had to pay for it out of my caution money,
+and I lost my place into the bargain, and there lies the accursed thing."
+
+The policeman, apparently quite satisfied with the porter's story, turned
+upon the Count with a blustering and overbearing manner.
+
+"Now, then," he said, roughly, "give an account of yourself. Who are you
+and what are you doing here? But that is a foolish question; I know
+already that you are a Bohemian and a journeyman tinker."
+
+"A Bohemian? And a journeyman tinker?" repeated the Count, almost
+speechless with anger for a moment. "I am neither," he added, endeavouring
+to control himself, and settling his refractory collar with one hand. "I
+am a Russian gentleman."
+
+"A gentleman--and a Russian," said the policeman, slowly, as though
+putting no faith in the first statement and very little in the second. "I
+think I can provide you with a lodging for the night," he added,
+facetiously.
+
+"Slip past me, jump out of the window and run!" whispered the Cossack in
+the Count's ear, in Russian.
+
+"What are you saying in your infernal language?" asked the official.
+
+"My friend advised me to run away," said the Count, coolly sitting down,
+as though he were master of the situation. "Unfortunately for me, I was
+not taught to use my legs in that way when I was a boy."
+
+"I was," said the Cossack. "Good-evening, Master Policeman." He took his
+hat from the peg on the wall where it had hung undisturbed throughout the
+confusion, and bowing gravely to the man in uniform made as though he
+would go out of the room.
+
+"So, so, not quite so fast, my friend," said the policeman, putting
+himself in the way. "Heigh! heigh! Stop him! Don't let him go," he bawled,
+a second later.
+
+Schmidt had paused a minute, watching his opportunity, then, taking a
+quick step backwards, he had vaulted through the open window with the
+agility of a cat, and was flying down the empty street at the speed only
+attainable by that deceptive domestic animal when pressed for time and
+anxious for its own safety.
+
+"Sobáka!" growled Domnoff, disgusted at his companion's defection.
+
+"Either talk in a language that human beings can understand, or do not
+talk at all," said one of the two men who guarded him.
+
+Seeing that pursuit was useless, the spokesman of the police turned to the
+Count, twice as blustering and terrible as before.
+
+"This settles the question," he said. "To the police station you go, you
+and your bear-man of an accomplice. Potzbombardendonnerwetter! You
+Sappermentskerls! I will teach you to resist the police, to steal dolls
+and to jump out of windows! Now then, right about face--march!"
+
+The Count did not stir from his chair. Dumnoff looked at him as though to
+ask instructions of a superior.
+
+"If you can manage one of them, I can take these two," he said in Russian.
+Suiting the action to the word, he suddenly bent down, slipped his arms
+round the legs of the two policemen, hurled them simultaneously head over
+heels and then charged the crowd, head downwards, upsetting every one who
+came in his way, and bursting into the street by sheer superior weight and
+impetus. An instant later, his shock head appeared at the window through
+which the Cossack had escaped.
+
+"Come along!" he shouted to the Count, in his own language. "I have locked
+the street door and they cannot get out. Jump through the window."
+
+"Go, my friend," answered the Count, calmly. "I will not run away."
+
+"You had much better come," insisted Dumnoff, apparently indifferent to
+the noise of the crowd as it tried to force open the closed door, and
+shaking off two or three men who had made their way out into the street
+with him. He held the key in one hand, and his assailants had small chance
+of getting it away.
+
+"You will not come?" he repeated. But the Count shook his head, within the
+room.
+
+"Then I will not run away either," said Dumnoff, the good side of his dull
+nature showing itself at last. With the utmost indifference to
+consequences he returned to the door, unlocked it, and strode through the
+midst of the people, who made way readily enough before him, after their
+late painful experience of his manner of making way for himself.
+
+"I have changed my mind," he said, in German, quietly placing himself
+between his late keepers, who were alternately rubbing themselves and
+brushing the dust off each other's clothes after their tumble.
+
+In the astonished silence which succeeded Dumnoff's return, the Count's
+voice was heard again.
+
+"I am both anxious and ready to explain everything, if you will do me the
+civility to listen," he said. "The doll is the property of Herr
+Fischelowitz, the well-known tobacconist--"
+
+"We shall see presently what you have to say for yourself," interrupted
+the policeman. "We have had enough of these devilish fellows. Come, put
+them in handcuffs and off with them. And you three gentlemen," he added,
+turning to the three porters, "will have the goodness to accompany us to
+the station, in order to give your evidence."
+
+"But my furniture and my beer saucers!" exclaimed the pallid host,
+suddenly remembering his losses. "Who is to pay for them?"
+
+The Count answered the question for him.
+
+"You, Master Host, who know us and have had our regular custom for years,
+but who have not dared to say a word in our defence throughout this
+disgraceful affair, you, I say, deserve to lose all that you have lost.
+Nevertheless, I can assure you that I will myself pay for what has been
+broken."
+
+The host was not much consoled by this magnanimous promise, which was
+received with jeers by the crowd. There was no time, however, to discuss
+the question. Dumnoff had quietly submitted his two huge fists to the
+handcuffs and a second pair was produced, to fit the Count. At this
+indignity he drew himself up proudly.
+
+"Have I resisted the authority, or attempted to run away?" he inquired
+with flashing eyes.
+
+The policeman had nothing to say to this very just question.
+
+"Then I advise you to consider what you are doing. In spite of my
+appearance, which, I admit, is at present somewhat disorderly, I am a
+Russian nobleman, as you will discover so soon as I am submitted to a
+properly conducted examination in the presence of your officers. I have
+not the least intention of running away, and if this doll was stolen, I
+was not connected in any way with the theft. Since I respect the
+authorities, I insist upon being respected by them, and if I am treated in
+a degrading manner in spite of my protests, there are those in Munich who
+will bring the case to proper notice in my own country. I am ready to
+accompany you quietly wherever you choose to show me the way."
+
+Something in his manner impressed the officials with the possible truth of
+his words. They looked at each other and nodded.
+
+"Very well," said the one who was conducting the arrest.
+
+"Moreover," said the Count, "I crave permission to carry myself the object
+of contention, until the other claimant has established his right of
+possession."
+
+So saying the Count took the broken Gigerl from the table where it lay,
+and carrying it upon his hands before him, like a baby, he solemnly walked
+in the direction of the door, thus heading the procession, which was
+accompanied into the street by the idlers who had collected inside.
+
+"God be thanked," said the old woman in the corner devoutly, "I have yet
+my beer!"
+
+"And to think that only one of them has paid for his supper," moaned the
+pale-faced innkeeper, sitting down upon a chair and contemplating the
+wreck of his belongings with a haggard eye. The "Gigerl-night" was
+remembered for many a long year in the "Green Wreath Inn."
+
+At the police station the arresting party told their own story in their
+own way, very much to the disadvantage of the Russians and very much in
+favour of the porters and of the officials themselves. The latter, indeed,
+enlarged so much upon the atrocities perpetrated by Dumnoff as to weary
+the superior officer. The Cossack having escaped, the policemen did not
+mention him. The officer glanced at Dumnoff.
+
+"Your name?" he inquired.
+
+"Victor Ivanowitch Dumnoff."
+
+"Occupation?"
+
+"Cigarette-maker in the manufactory of Christian Fischelowitz."
+
+"Lock him up," said the officer. "Resisting the police in the execution of
+an arrest," he added, speaking to the scribe at his elbow.
+
+"Your name?" continued he, addressing the Count. "Boris Michaelovitch,
+Count Skariatine."
+
+"Count?" repeated the officer. "We shall see. Occupation?"
+
+"I have been occupied in the manufacture of cigarettes," answered the
+Count. "But as I was only engaged in this during a period of temporary
+embarrassment from which I shall be relieved to-morrow, I may be described
+as having no particular occupation."
+
+The officer stared incredulously for a moment and then nodded to the
+scribe in token that he was to write down what was said.
+
+"Charged with having stolen a doll, is that it?" He turned to the
+policeman in charge.
+
+"Jawohl, Herr Hauptmann."
+
+"May it please you, Herr Hauptmann, I did not say that," put in the
+porter, coming forward.
+
+"Who are you?"
+
+"The man from whom the doll was stolen. Jacob Goggelmann, Dienstmann
+number 87, formerly private in the Fourth Artillery, lately messenger in
+the Thüringer Doll Manufactory."
+
+"When was the doll stolen?"
+
+"Last New Year's eve," answered the porter.
+
+"And you have not seen it until to-day?"
+
+"No, Herr Hauptmann."
+
+"Then how do you know it is the same one? I suppose it is not the only
+doll of its kind in Munich."
+
+"I am sure of it. I was a messenger in the shop, Herr Hauptmann, and I
+knew everything there, just as though I had been one of the young ladies
+who serve the customers. Besides, you will find my name written in pencil
+under the pedestal."
+
+"That is another matter," said the officer, taking the Gigerl and holding
+it upside down to the gaslight. The reversing of the thing's natural
+position produced some mysterious effect upon the musical box, and the
+tune which had been so rudely interrupted by Akulina's well-aimed blow,
+suddenly began again from the point at which it had stopped, continuing
+for a few bars and then coming to an end with a sharp twang and a little
+click. The policemen tittered audibly, and even the captain smiled faintly
+in his big yellow beard. Then he knit his brows as he deciphered something
+which was written on the pinewood under the base.
+
+"You should have said so at once," he observed. "Your name is there, as
+you assert."
+
+"It was written to show that I was to take it. I had it in a basket with
+other things. I put it down a moment in the yard of the Hofbräuhaus, and
+when I came back the basket was gone."
+
+"And what do you know about it?" The question was addressed to the Count.
+
+"Seeing that the porter is evidently right," said the Count, covering with
+his hat the point from which the button had been torn, and holding the
+other hand rather nervously to his throat, as though trying to keep
+himself from falling to pieces, "I have nothing more to say. I will not be
+accused of inculpating any one in this disastrous affair. I will only say
+that the doll has stood since early in the year in the show window of
+Christian Fischelowitz, the tobacconist, who certainly had no knowledge of
+the way in which it was obtained by the person who brought it to him."
+
+"He is an extremely respectable person," observed the officer. "If you can
+prove what you say, I will not detain you further. Have you any witness
+here?"
+
+"There is Herr Dumnoff," said the Count. The officer smiled and
+perpetrated an official jest.
+
+"Herr Dumnoff has given evidence of great strength, but owing to his
+peculiar situation at the present time, I cannot trust to the strength of
+his evidence."
+
+The policemen laughed respectfully.
+
+"Have you no one else?" asked the officer.
+
+"Herr Fischelowitz will willingly vouch for what I say."
+
+"At this hour, Herr Fischelowitz is doubtless asleep, and would certainly
+be justified in refusing to come here out of mere complaisance. I am
+afraid, Count Skariatine, that I must have the honour of being your host
+until morning."
+
+"It is impossible to describe our relative positions with greater
+courtesy," answered the Count, gravely, and not taking the least notice of
+the officer's ironical tone. The latter looked at the speaker curiously
+and then suddenly changed his manner. He was convinced that he was
+speaking with a gentleman.
+
+"I regret that I am obliged to put you to such inconvenience," he said,
+politely. "Treat the gentleman with every consideration," he added,
+addressing the policemen in a tone of authority, "and let me have no
+complaints of unnecessary rudeness either."
+
+"I thank you, Herr Hauptmann," said the Count, simply.
+
+Thus was the Count deprived of his liberty on the very eve of his return
+to all the brilliant advantages of wealth and social station. It was
+certainly a most unfortunate train of circumstances which had led him by
+such quick stages from his parting with Vjera to the wooden bench and the
+board pillow of the police-station. It looked as though the Gigerl were
+possessed of an evil spirit determined to work out the Count's
+destruction, as though the wretched adventurer who had first stolen it and
+palmed it off upon Fischelowitz had laid a curse upon it, whereby it was
+destined to breed dissension and strife wherever it remained and to the
+direct injury of whomsoever chanced to possess it for the time being. It
+had been the cause of serious disaster to the porter in the first
+instance, it had next represented to Fischelowitz a dead loss in money of
+fifty marks, it had become a thorn in the side to Akulina, it had led to
+one of the most violent quarrels she had ever engaged in with her husband,
+its limp and broken form had cost much broken crockery and some broken
+furniture to the host of the "Green Wreath Inn," had been the cause of
+several ponderous blows dealt and received by Dumnoff, had produced the
+violent fall, upon a hard board floor, of a porter and two policemen and
+had ultimately brought the Count to prison for the night. Its value had
+become very great, for it had been paid for twice over, once by the man
+from whom it had been stolen, by the forfeiture of his caution money, and
+once by Fischelowitz in the sum of fifty marks lent to an adventurer;
+furthermore, the Count had solemnly pledged his word as a gentleman to pay
+for it a third time on the morrow, he having in his worldly possession the
+sum of one silver mark and two German pennies at the time of entering into
+the engagement. The actual sum of money paid and promised to be paid on
+the body of the now ruined Gigerl, now amounted, with interest, to more
+than four times its original value, thus constituting one of those
+interesting problems in real and comparative value so interesting to the
+ingenuous political economist, who believes that all value can be traced
+to supply and demand. Now, although the Gigerl was but a single doll, the
+supply of him, so to speak, had been surprisingly abundant, and the
+demand, if represented by the desire of any one person concerned to
+possess him, may be represented by the smallest of zeros. The
+consideration of so intricate a question belongs neither to the inventor
+of fiction nor to the historian of facts, and may therefore be abandoned
+to the political economist, who may, perhaps, be said to partake of the
+nature of both while possessing the virtues of neither.
+
+The Count was in prison, therefore, on the eve of his return to splendour,
+and his companion in captivity was Dumnoff the mujik. They found
+themselves in a well-ventilated room, having high grated windows, through
+which the stars were visible, and dimly lighted by a small gas flame which
+burned in a lantern of white ground glass. The place was abundantly, if
+not luxuriously, furnished with flat wooden pallets, each having at the
+head a slanting piece of board supposed to do duty for a pillow. Outside
+the open door a policeman paced the broad passage, a man taken from the
+mounted detachment and whose scabbard and spurs clattered and jingled,
+hour after hour, as he walked. The sound produced something half
+rhythmical, like a broken tune in search of itself, and the change of
+sentinels made no perceptible difference in the regular nature of the
+unceasing noise.
+
+Dumnoff, relieved of his handcuffs, stretched himself upon the pallet
+assigned to him, clasped his hands under the back of his head, and stared
+at the ceiling. The Count sat upon the edge of his board, crossing one
+knee over the other and looking at his nails, or trying to look at them in
+the insufficient light. In some distant part of the building a door was
+occasionally opened and shut, and the slight concussion sent long echoes
+down the stone passages. The Count sighed audibly.
+
+"It is not so bad, after all," remarked Dumnoff. "I did not expect to end
+the evening so comfortably."
+
+"It is bad enough," said the Count. He produced a crumpled piece of
+newspaper which contained a little tobacco, and rolled a cigarette
+thoughtfully. "It is bad enough," he repeated as he began to smoke.
+
+"It would have been very easy to get away, if you had done like that brute
+of a Schmidt who ran away and left us."
+
+"I do not think Schmidt is a brute," observed the other, blowing a huge
+ring of white smoke out into the dusk.
+
+"I did not think so either. But I had arranged it all very well for you to
+get away--only you would not. You see, by an accident, the key was outside
+the door, so I kicked the people back and locked it. It would have taken a
+quarter of an hour for them to open it, and if you had only jumped--"
+
+He turned his head, and glanced at the Count's spare, sinewy figure.
+
+"You are light, too," he continued, "and you could not have hurt yourself.
+I cannot understand why you stayed."
+
+"Dumnoff, my friend," said the Count, gravely, "we look at things in a
+different way. It is my duty to tell you that I think you behaved in the
+most honourable manner, under the circumstances, and I am deeply indebted
+to you for the gallant way in which you came back to stand by me, when you
+were yourself free. In a nobler warfare, such an action would have been
+rewarded with a cross of honour, as it truly deserved. It is true, as
+well, that you were not so intimately connected with the main question at
+stake, as I was, since it was I who was suspected of being in possession
+of unlawfully gotten goods. You were consequently, I think, at liberty to
+take your freedom if you could get it, without consulting your conscience
+further. Now my position was, and is, very different. I do not speak of
+any personal prejudice against the mere act of running away, considered as
+an immediate means of escape from disagreeable circumstances, with the
+hope of ultimate immunity from all unpleasant consequences. That is a
+matter of early education."
+
+"I had very little early education," observed Dumnoff. "And none at all
+afterwards."
+
+"My friend, it is not for you and me to enter into the history of our
+misfortunes. We have met in the vat of poverty to be seethed alike in the
+brew of unhappiness. We have sat at the same daily labour, we have shared
+often the same fare, but there is that in each of us which we can keep
+sacred from the contamination of confidence, and which will withstand even
+the thrusts of poverty. I mean our individual selves, the better part of
+us, the nobler element which has suffered, as distinguished from the
+grosser, which may yet enjoy. But I am wandering a little. I am afraid I
+sometimes do. I return to the point. For me to take advantage of your
+generous attempt to free me would have been to act as though I had a moral
+cause for flight. In other words, it would have been to acknowledge that I
+had committed some dishonourable action."
+
+"It seems to me that to get away would have been the best way out of it.
+They would not have caught you if you had trusted to me, and if they did
+not catch you they could not prove anything against you."
+
+"The suspicion would have remained, and the disgrace in my own eyes,"
+answered the Count. "The question of physical fear is very different. I
+have been told that it depends upon the nerves and the action of the
+heart, and that courage is greatly increased by the presence of
+nourishment in the stomach. The same cannot be said of moral bravery,
+which proceeds more from the fear of seeming contemptible in our own eyes
+than from the wish to seem honourable in the estimation of others."
+
+"I daresay," said Dumnoff, who was growing sleepy and who understood very
+little of his companion's homily.
+
+"Precisely," replied the latter. "And yet even the question of physical
+courage is very complicated in the present case. It cannot be said, for
+instance, that you ran away from physical fear, after giving proof of such
+astonishing physical superiority. Your deeds this evening make the labours
+of Hercules dwindle to the proportions of mere mountebank's tricks."
+
+"Was anybody badly injured?" asked Dumnoff, suddenly aroused by the
+pleasing recollections of the contest.
+
+"I believe not seriously; I think I saw everybody whom you upset get on
+his feet sooner or later."
+
+"Well," said Dumnoff with a sigh, "it cannot be helped. I did my best."
+
+"I should think that you would be glad," suggested the Count. "You showed
+your prowess without any fatal result."
+
+"Anything for a change in this dull life," grumbled the peasant with an
+air of dissatisfaction.
+
+"With such a prospect of immediate change before me, I suppose I ought not
+to blame your longing for excitement. Nevertheless I consider it fortunate
+that nothing worse happened."
+
+"You might take me with you to Russia," said Dumnoff, with a short laugh.
+"That would be an excitement, at least."
+
+"After the way in which you have stood by me this evening, I will not
+refuse you anything. If you wish it, I will take you with me. I take it
+for granted that you are not prevented by any especial reason from
+entering our country."
+
+"Not that I am aware of," laughed Dumnoff. "Do you know how I got to
+Germany? A gentleman from our part of the country brought me with him as
+coachman. One day the horses ran away in Baden-Baden, and he turned me out
+of the house."
+
+"That was very inconsiderate of him," observed the Count.
+
+"It is true that both the horses were killed," said Dumnoff, thoughtfully.
+"And the prince broke his arm, and the carriage was in good condition for
+firewood, and possibly I was a little gay--just a little--though I was so
+much upset by the accident that I could not remember exactly what happened
+before. Still--"
+
+"Your conduct on that particular day seems to have left much to be
+desired," remarked the Count with some austerity.
+
+"It has been my bad luck to be in a great many accidents," said the other.
+"But that one was remarkable. As far as I can recollect, we drove into the
+Grand Duke's four-in-hand on one side and drove out of it on the other. I
+never drove through a Grand Duke's equipage on any other occasion. It was
+lucky that his Serenity did not happen to be in it just at the time. There
+you have my history in a nutshell. As you say you will take me with you, I
+thought you ought to know."
+
+"Certainly, certainly," answered the Count, vaguely. "I will take you with
+me--but not as coachman, I think, Dumnoff. We may find some more
+favourable sphere for your great physical strength."
+
+"Anything you like. It is a good joke to dream of such a journey, is it
+not? Especially when one is locked up for the night in the
+police-station."
+
+"It is certainly a relief to contemplate the prospect of such a change
+to-morrow," said the Count, his expression brightening in the gloom.
+
+For a few moments there was silence between the two men. Dumnoff's small
+eyes fixed themselves on the shadowy outlines of his companion's face, as
+though trying to solve a problem far too complicated for his dull
+intellect.
+
+"I wonder whether you are really mad," he said slowly, after a prolonged
+mental effort.
+
+The Count started slightly and stared at the ex-coachman with a frightened
+look.
+
+"Mad?" he repeated, nervously. "Who says I am mad? Why do you ask the
+question?"
+
+"Most people say so," replied the other, evidently without any intention
+of giving pain. "Everybody who works with us thinks so."
+
+"Everybody? Everybody? I think you are dreaming, Dumnoff. What do you
+mean?"
+
+"I mean that they think so because you have those queer fits of believing
+yourself a rich count every week, from Tuesday night till Thursday
+morning. Schmidt was saying only yesterday to poor Vjera--"
+
+"Vjera? Does she believe it too?" asked the Count in an unsteady voice,
+not heeding the rest of the speech.
+
+"Of course," said Dumnoff, carelessly. "Schmidt was saying to me only
+yesterday that you were going to have a worse attack of it than usual
+because you were so silent."
+
+"Vjera, too!" repeated the Count in a low voice. "And no one ever told
+me--" He passed his hand over his eyes.
+
+"Tell me"--Dumnoff began in the tone of jocular familiarity which he
+considered confidential--"tell me--the whole thing is just a joke of yours
+to amuse us all, is it not? You do not really believe that you are a
+count, any more than I really believe that you are mad, you know. You do
+not act like a madman, except when you let the police catch you and lock
+you up for the night, instead of running away like a sensible man."
+
+The Count's face grew bright again all at once. In the present state of
+his hopes no form of doubt seemed able to take a permanent hold of him.
+
+"No, I am not mad," he said. "But on the other hand, Dumnoff, it is my
+conviction that you are exceedingly drunk. No other hypothesis can account
+for your very singular remarks about me."
+
+"Oh, I am drunk, am I?" laughed the peasant. "It is very likely, and in
+that case I had better go to sleep. Good-night, and do not forget that you
+are to take me with you to Russia."
+
+"I will not forget," said the Count.
+
+Dumnoff stretched his heavy limbs on the wooden pallet, rolled his great
+head once or twice from side to side until his fur-like hair made
+something like a cushion and then, in the course of three minutes, fell
+fast asleep.
+
+The Count sat upright in his place, drumming with his fingers upon one
+knee.
+
+"It is a wonder that I am not mad," he said to himself. "But Vjera never
+thought it of me--and that fellow is evidently the worse for liquor."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+Johann Schmidt had not fled from the scene of action out of any
+consideration for his personal safety. He was, indeed, a braver man than
+Dumnoff, in proportion as he was more intelligent, and though of a very
+different temper, by no means averse to a fight if it came into his way.
+He had foreseen what was sure to happen, and had realised sooner than any
+one else that the only person who could set everything straight was
+Fischelowitz himself. So soon as he was clear of pursuit, therefore, he
+turned in the direction of the tobacconist's dwelling, walking as quickly
+as he could where there were many people and running at the top of his
+speed through such empty by-streets as lay in the direct line of his
+course. He rushed up the three flights of steps and rang sharply at the
+door.
+
+Akulina's unmistakable step was heard in the passage a moment later.
+Schmidt would have preferred that Fischelowitz should have come himself,
+though he managed to live on very good terms with Akulina. Though far from
+tactful he guessed that in a matter concerning the Count, the tobacconist
+would prove more obliging than his wife.
+
+"What is the matter?" inquired the mistress of the house, opening the door
+wide after she had recognised the Cossack in the feeble light of the
+staircase, by looking through the little hole in the panel.
+
+"Good-evening, Frau Fischelowitz," said Schmidt, trying to appear as calm
+and collected as possible. "I would like to speak to your husband upon a
+little matter of business."
+
+"He is not at home yet. I left him in the shop."
+
+Almost before the words were out of her mouth, Schmidt had turned and was
+running down the stairs, two at a time. Akulina called him back.
+
+"Wait a minute!" she cried, advancing to the hand-rail on the landing.
+"What in the world are you in such a hurry about?"
+
+"Oh--nothing--nothing especial," answered the man, suddenly stopping and
+looking up.
+
+Akulina set her fat hands on her hips and held her head a little on one
+side. She had plenty of curiosity in her composition.
+
+"Well, I must say," she observed, "for a man who is not in a hurry about
+anything, you are uncommonly brisk with your feet. If it is only a matter
+of business, I daresay I will do as well as my husband."
+
+"Oh, I daresay," admitted Schmidt, scratching his head. "But this is
+rather a personal matter of business, you see."
+
+"And you mean that you want some money, I suppose," suggested Akulina, at
+a venture.
+
+"No, no, not at all--no money at all. It is not a question of money." He
+hoped to satisfy her by a statement which was never without charm in her
+ears. But Akulina was not satisfied; on the contrary, she began to suspect
+that something serious might be the matter, for she could see Schmidt's
+face better now, as he looked up to her, facing the gaslight that burned
+above her own head. Having been violently angry not more than an hour or
+two earlier, her nerves were not altogether calmed, and the memory of the
+scene in the shop was still vividly present. There was no knowing what the
+Count might not have done, in retaliation for the verbal injuries she had
+heaped upon him, and her quick instinct connected Schmidt's unusually
+anxious appearance and evident haste to be off, with some new event in
+which the Count had played a part.
+
+"Have you seen the Count?" she inquired, just as Schmidt was beginning to
+move again.
+
+"Yes," answered the latter, trying to assume a doubtful tone of voice. "I
+believe--in fact, I did see him--for a moment--"
+
+Akulina smiled to herself, proud of her own acuteness.
+
+"I thought so," she said. "And he has made some trouble about that
+wretched doll--"
+
+"How did you guess that?" asked Schmidt, turning and ascending a few
+steps. He was very much astonished.
+
+"Oh, I know many things--many interesting things. And now you want to warn
+my husband of what the Count has done, do you not? It must be something
+serious, since you are in such a hurry. Come in, Herr Schmidt, and have a
+glass of tea. Fischelowitz will be at home in a few minutes, and you see I
+have guessed half your story, so you may as well tell me the other half
+and be done with it. It is of no use for you to go to the shop after him.
+He has shut up by this time, and you cannot tell which way he will come
+home, can you? Much better come in and have a glass of tea. The samovar is
+lighted and everything is ready, so that you need not stay long."
+
+Schmidt lingered doubtfully a moment on the stairs. The closing hour was
+certainly past in early-closing Munich, and he might miss the tobacconist
+in the street. It seemed wiser to wait for him in his house, and so the
+Cossack reluctantly accepted the invitation, which, under ordinary
+circumstances, he would have regarded as a great honour. Akulina ushered
+him into the little sitting-room and prepared him a large glass of tea
+with a slice of lemon in it. She filled another for herself and sat down
+opposite to him at the table.
+
+"The poor Count!" she exclaimed. "He is sure to get himself into trouble
+some day. I suppose people cannot help behaving oddly when they are mad,
+poor things. And the Count is certainly mad, Herr Schmidt."
+
+"Quite mad, poor man. He has had one of his worst attacks to-day."
+
+"Yes," assented the wily Akulina, "and if you could have seen him and
+heard him in the shop this evening--" She held up her hands and shook her
+head.
+
+"What did he do and say?"
+
+"Oh, such things, such things! Poor man, of course I am very sorry for
+him, and I am glad that my husband finds room to employ him, and keep him
+from starving. But really, this evening he quite made me lose my temper. I
+am afraid I was a little rough, considering that he is sensitive. But to
+hear the man talk about his money, and his titles, and his dignities, when
+he is only just able to keep body and soul together! It is enough to
+irritate the seven archangels, Herr Schmidt, indeed it is! And then at the
+same time there was that dreadful Gigerl, and my head was splitting--I am
+sure there will be a thunder-storm to-night--altogether, I could not bear
+it any longer, and I actually upset the Gigerl out of anger, and it rolled
+to the floor and was broken. Of course it is very foolish to lose one's
+temper in that way, but after all, I am only a weak woman, and I confess
+it was a relief to me when I saw the poor Count take the thing away. I
+hope I did not really hurt his feelings, for he is an excellent workman,
+in spite of his madness. What did he say, Herr Schmidt? I would so like to
+know how he took it. Of course he was very angry. Poor man, so mad, so
+completely mad on that one point!"
+
+"To tell the truth," said Schmidt, who had listened attentively, "he did
+not like what you said to him at all."
+
+"Well, really, was it my fault, Herr Schmidt? I am only a woman, and I
+suppose I may be excused if I lose my temper once in a year or so. It is
+very wearing on the nerves. Every Tuesday evening begins the same old song
+about the fortune and letters, and the journey to Russia. One gets very
+tired of it in the long-run. At first it used to amuse me."
+
+"Do you think that Herr Fischelowitz can have gone anywhere else instead
+of coming home?" asked the Cossack, finishing the glass of tea, which he
+had swallowed burning hot out of sheer anxiety to get away.
+
+"Oh no, indeed," cried Akulina in a tone of the most sincere conviction.
+"He always tells me where he is going. You have no idea what a good
+husband he is, and what a good man--though I daresay you know that after
+being with us so many years. Now, I am sure that if he had the least idea
+that anything had happened to the poor Count, he would run all the way
+home in order to hear it as soon as possible."
+
+"No more tea, thank you, Frau Fischelowitz," said Schmidt, but she took
+his glass with a quiet smile and shredded a fresh piece of lemon into it
+and filled it up again, quite heedless of his protest. Schmidt resigned
+himself, and thanked her civilly.
+
+"Of course," she said, presently, as she busied herself with the
+arrangements of the samovar, "of course it is nothing so very serious, is
+it? I daresay the Count has told you that he would not work any more for
+us, and you are anxious to arrange the matter? In that case, you need have
+no fear. I am always ready to forgive and forget, as they say, though I am
+only a weak woman."
+
+"That is very kind of you," observed Schmidt, with a glitter in his eyes
+which Akulina did not observe.
+
+"I guessed the truth, did I not?"
+
+"Not exactly. The trouble is rather more serious than that. The fact is,
+as we were at supper, a man at another table saw the Gigerl in our hands
+and swore that it had been stolen from him some months ago."
+
+"And what happened then?" asked Akulina with sudden interest.
+
+"I suppose you may as well know," said Schmidt, regretfully. "There was a
+row, and the man made a great deal of trouble and at last the police were
+called in, and I came to get Herr Fischelowitz himself to come and prove
+that the Gigerl was his. You see why I am in such a hurry."
+
+"Do you think they have arrested the Count?"
+
+"I imagine that every one concerned would be taken to the police-station."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"And then, unless the affair is cleared up, they will be kept there all
+night."
+
+"All night!" exclaimed Akulina, holding up her hands in real or affected
+horror. "Poor Count! He will be quite crazy, now, I fear--especially as
+this is Tuesday evening."
+
+"But he must be got out at once!" cried Schmidt in a tone of decision.
+"Herr Fischelowitz will surely not allow--"
+
+"No indeed! You have only to wait until he comes home, and then you can go
+together. Or better still, if he does not come back in a quarter of an
+hour, and if he has really shut up the shop as usual, you might look for
+him at the Café Luitpold, and if he is not there, it is just possible that
+he may have looked in at the Gärtner Platz Theatre, for which he often has
+free tickets, and if the performance is over--I fancy it is, by this
+time--he may be in the Café Maximilian, or he may have gone to drink a
+glass of beer in the Platzl, for he often goes there, and--well, if you do
+not find him in any of those places--"
+
+"But, good Heavens, Frau Fischelowitz, you said you were quite sure he was
+coming home at once! Now I have lost all this time!"
+
+Schmidt had risen quickly to his feet, in considerable anxiety and haste.
+Akulina smiled good-humouredly.
+
+"You see," she said, "it is just possible that to-night, as he was a
+little annoyed with me for being sharp with the Count, he may have gone
+somewhere without telling me. But I really could not foresee it, because
+he is such a very good--"
+
+"I know," interrupted the Cossack. "If I miss him, you will tell him, will
+you not? Thank you, and good-night, Frau Fischelowitz, I cannot afford to
+wait a moment longer."
+
+So saying Johann Schmidt made for the door and got out of the house this
+time without any attempt on the part of his amiable hostess to detain him
+further. She had indeed omitted to tell him that her last speech was not
+merely founded on a supposition, since Fischelowitz had really been very
+much annoyed and had declared that he would not come home but would spend
+the evening with a friend of his who lived in the direction of Schwabing,
+one of the suburbs of Munich farthest removed from the places in which she
+advised Schmidt to make search.
+
+The stout housewife disliked and even detested the Count for many reasons
+all good in her own eyes, among which the chief one was that she did
+dislike him. She felt for him one of those strong and invincible
+antipathies which trivial and cunning natures often feel for very
+honourable and simple ones. To the latter the Count belonged, and Akulina
+was a fine specimen of the former. If the Count had been literally
+starving and clothed in rags, he would have been incapable of a mean
+thought or of a dishonest action. Whatever his origin had been, he had
+that, at least, of a nobility undeniable in itself. That his character was
+simple in reality, may as yet seem less evident. He was regarded as mad,
+as has been seen, but his madness was methodical and did not overstep
+certain very narrow bounds. Beyond those limits within which others, at
+least, did not consider him responsible, his chief idea seemed to be to
+gain his living quietly, owing no man anything, nor refusing anything to
+any man who asked it. This last characteristic, more than any other,
+seemed to prove the possibility of his having been brought up in wealth
+and with the free use of money, for his generosity was not that of the
+vulgar spendthrift who throws away his possessions upon himself quite as
+freely as upon his companions. He earned enough money at his work to live
+decently well, at least, and he spent but the smallest sum upon his own
+wants. Nevertheless he never had anything to spare for his own comfort,
+for he was as ready to give a beggar in the street the piece of silver
+which represented a good part of the value of his day's work as most rich
+people are to part with a penny. He never inquired the reason for the
+request of help, but to all who asked of him he gave what he had, gravely,
+without question, as a matter of course. If Dumnoff's pockets were empty
+and his throat dry, he went to the Count and got what he wanted. Dumnoff
+might be brutal, rude, coarse; it made no difference. The Count did not
+care to know where the money went nor when it would be returned, if ever.
+If Schmidt's wife--for he had a wife--was ill, the Count lent all he had,
+if the children's shoes were worn out, he lent again, and when Schmidt,
+who was himself extremely conscientious in his odd way, brought the money
+back, the Count generally gave it to the first poor person whom he met.
+Akulina supposed that this habit belonged to his madness. Others, who
+understood him better, counted it to him for righteousness, and even
+Dumnoff, the rough peasant, showed at times a friendly interest in him,
+which is not usually felt by the unpunctual borrower towards the
+uncomplaining lender.
+
+But Akulina could understand none of these things. She belongs by nature
+to the class of people whose first impulse on all occasions is to say:
+"Money is money." There can be no mutual attraction of intellectual
+sympathy between these, and those other persons who despise money in their
+hearts, and would rather not touch it with their hands. It has been seen
+also that the events connected with the Gigerl's first appearance in the
+shop had been of a nature to irritate Akulina still more. The dislike
+nourished in her stout bosom through long months and years now approached
+the completion of its development, and manifested itself as a form of
+active hatred. Akulina was delighted to learn that there was a prospect of
+the Count's spending the night in the police-station and she determined
+that Johann Schmidt should not find her husband before the next day, and
+that when the partner of her bliss returned--presumably pacified by the
+soothing converse of his friend--she would not disturb his peace of mind
+by any reference to the Count's adventures. It was therefore with small
+prospect of success that the Cossack began his search for Fischelowitz.
+
+Only a man who has sought anxiously for another, all through the late
+evening, in a great city, knows how hopeless the attempt seems after the
+first hour. The rapid motion through many dusky streets, the looking in,
+from time to time, upon some merry company assembled in a warm room under
+a brilliant light, the anxious search among the guests for the familiar
+figure, the disappointment, as each fancied resemblance shows, on near
+approach, a face unknown to the searcher, the hurried exit and the quick
+passage through the dark night air to the next halting-place--all these
+impressions, following hurriedly upon each other, confuse the mind and at
+last discourage hope.
+
+Schmidt did not realise how late it was, when, abandoning his search for
+his employer, he turned towards the police-station in the hope of still
+rendering some assistance to his friend. He could not gain admittance to
+the presence of the officer in charge, however, and was obliged to content
+himself with the assurance that the Count had been treated "with
+consideration," as the phrase was, and that there would be plenty of time
+for talking in the morning. The policemen in the guard-room were sleepy
+and not disposed to enter into conversation. Schmidt turned his steps in
+the direction of the tobacconist's house for the second time, in sheer
+despair. But he found the street door shut and the whole house was dark.
+Nevertheless, he pulled the little handle upon which, by the aid of a
+flickering match, he discovered a figure of three, corresponding to the
+floor occupied by Fischelowitz. Again and again he tugged vigorously at
+the brass knob until he could hear the bell tinkling far above. No other
+sound followed, however, in the silence of the night, though he strained
+his ears for the faintest echo of a distant footfall and the slightest
+noise indicating that a window or a door was about to be opened. He
+wondered whether Fischelowitz had come home. If he had, Akulina had surely
+told him the story of the evening, and he would have been heard of at the
+police-station, for it was incredible that he should let the night pass
+without making an effort to liberate the Count. Therefore the tobacconist
+had in all probability not yet returned. The night was fairly warm, and
+the Cossack sat down upon a doorstep, lighted a cigarette and waited. In
+spite of long years spent in the midst of German civilisation, it was
+still as natural to him to sit down in the open air at night and to watch
+the stars, as though he had never changed his own name for the plain
+German appellation of Johann Schmidt, nor laid aside the fur cap and the
+sheepskin coat of his tribe for the shabby jacket and the rusty black hat
+of higher social development.
+
+There was no truth in Akulina's statement that a thunder-storm was
+approaching. The stars shone clear and bright, high above the narrow
+street, and the solitary man looked up at them, and remembered other days
+and a freer life and a broader horizon; days when he had been younger than
+he was now, a life full of a healthier labour, a horizon boundless as that
+of the little street was limited. He thought, as he often thought when
+alone in the night, of his long journeys on horseback, driving great
+flocks of bleating sheep over endless steppes and wolds and expanses of
+pasture and meadow; he remembered the reddening of the sheep's woolly
+coats in the evening sun, the quick change from gold to grey as the sun
+went down, the slow transition from twilight to night, the uncertain gait
+of his weary beast as the darkness closed in, the soft sound of the sheep
+huddling together, the bark of his dog, the sudden, leaping light of the
+camp-fire on the distant rising ground, the voices of greeting, the
+bubbling of the soup kettle, the grateful rest, the song of the wandering
+Tchumák--the pedlar and roving newsman of the Don. He remembered on
+holidays the wild racing and chasing and the sports in the saddle, the
+picking up of the tiny ten-kopek bit from the earth at a full gallop, the
+startling game in which a row of fearless Cossack girls join hands
+together, daring the best rider to break their rank with his plunging
+horse if he can, the mad laughter of the maidens, the snorting and rearing
+of the animal as he checks himself before the human wall that will not
+part to make way for him. All these things he recalled, the change of the
+seasons, the iron winter, the scorching summer, the glory of autumn and
+the freshness of spring. Born to such a liberty, he had fallen into the
+captivity of a common life; bred in the desert, he knew that his declining
+years would be spent in the eternal cutting of tobacco in the close air of
+a back shop; trained to the saddle, he spent his days seated motionless
+upon a wooden chair. The contrast was bitter enough, between the life he
+was meant to lead by nature, and the life he was made to lead by
+circumstances. And all this was the result in the first instant of a
+girl's caprice, of her fancy for another man, so little different from
+himself that a Western woman could hardly have told the two apart. For
+this, he had left the steppe, had wandered westward to the Dnieper and
+southward to Odessa, northward again to Kiew, to Moscow, to
+Nizni-Novgorod, back again to Poland, to Krakau, to Prague, to Munich at
+last. Who could remember his wanderings, or trace the route of his endless
+journeyings? Not he himself, surely, any more than he could explain the
+gradual steps by which he had been transformed from a Don Cossack to a
+German tobacco-cutter in a cigarette manufactory.
+
+But his past life at least furnished him with memories, varied, changing,
+full of light and life and colour, wherewith to while away an hour's
+watching in the night. Still he sat upon his doorstep, watching star after
+star as it slowly culminated over the narrow street and set, for him,
+behind the nearest house-top. He might have sat there till morning had he
+not been at last aware that some one was walking upon the opposite
+pavement.
+
+His quick ear caught the soft fall of an almost noiseless footstep and he
+could distinguish a shadow a little darker than the surrounding shade,
+moving quickly along the wall. He rose to his feet and crossed the street,
+not believing, indeed, that the newcomer could be the man he wanted, but
+anxious to be fully satisfied that he was not mistaken. He found himself
+face to face with a young girl, who stopped at the street door of the
+tobacconist's house, just as he reached it. Her head was muffled in
+something dark and he could not distinguish her features. She started on
+seeing him, hesitated and then laid her hand upon the same knob which
+Schmidt had pulled so often in vain.
+
+"It is of no use to ring," he said, quietly. "I have given it up."
+
+"Herr Schmidt!" exclaimed the girl in evident delight. It was Vjera.
+
+"Yes--but, in Heaven's name, Vjera, what are you doing here at this hour
+of the night? You ought to be at home and asleep."
+
+"Oh, you have not heard the dreadful news," cried poor Vjera in accents of
+distress. "Oh, if we cannot get in here, come with me, for the love of
+Heaven, and help me to get him out of that horrible place--oh, if you only
+knew what has happened!"
+
+"I know all about it, Vjera," answered the Cossack. "That is the reason
+why I am here. I was with them when it happened and I ran off to get
+Fischelowitz. As ill luck would have it, he was out."
+
+In a few words Schmidt explained the whole affair and told of his own
+efforts. Vjera was breathless with excitement and anxiety.
+
+"What is to be done? Dear Herr Schmidt! What is to be done?" She wrung her
+hands together and fixed her tearful eyes on his.
+
+"I am afraid that there is nothing to be done until morning--"
+
+"But there must be something, there shall be something done! They will
+drive him mad in that dreadful place--he is so proud and so sensitive--you
+do not know--the mere idea of being in prison--"
+
+"It is not so bad as that," answered Schmidt, trying to reassure her.
+"They assured me that he was treated with every consideration, you know.
+Of course that means that he was not locked up like a common prisoner."
+
+"Do you think so?" Vjera's tone expressed no conviction in the matter.
+
+"Certainly. And it shows that he is not really suspected of anything
+serious--only, because Fischelowitz could not be found--"
+
+"But he is there--there in his house, asleep!" cried Vjera. "And we can
+wake him up--of course we can. He cannot be sleeping so soundly as not to
+hear if we ring hard. At least his wife will hear and look out of the
+window."
+
+"I am afraid not. I have tried it."
+
+But Vjera would not be discouraged and laid hold of the bell-handle again,
+pulling it out as far as it would come and letting it fly back again with
+a snap. The same results followed as when Schmidt had made the same
+attempt. There was a distant tinkling followed by total silence. Vjera
+repeated the operation.
+
+"You cannot do more than I have done," said her companion, leaning his
+back against the door and watching her movements.
+
+"I ought to do more."
+
+"Why, Vjera?"
+
+"Because he is more to me than to you or to any of the rest," she answered
+in a low voice.
+
+"Do you mean to say that you love the Count?" inquired Schmidt, surprised
+beyond measure by the girl's words and rendered thereby even more tactless
+than usual.
+
+But Vjera said nothing, having been already led into saying more than she
+had wished to say. She pulled the bell again.
+
+"I had never thought of that," remarked the Cossack in a musing tone. "But
+he is mad, Vjera, the poor Count is mad. It is a pity that you should love
+a madman--"
+
+"O, don't, Herr Schmidt--please don't!" cried Vjera, imploring him to be
+silent as much with her eyes as with her voice.
+
+"No, but really," continued the other, as though talking to himself,
+"there are things that go beyond all imagination in this world. Now, who
+would ever have thought of such a thing?"
+
+This time Vjera did not make any answer, nor repeat her request. But as
+she tugged with all her might at the brass handle, the Cossack heard a
+quick sob, and then another.
+
+"Poor Vjera!" he exclaimed kindly, and laying his hand on her shoulder.
+"Poor child! I am very sorry for you, poor Vjera--I would do anything to
+help you, indeed I would--if I only knew what it should be."
+
+"Then help me to wake up Fischelowitz," answered the girl in a shaken
+voice. "I am sure he is at home at this time--"
+
+"I have done all I can. If he will not wake, he will not. Or if he is
+awake he will not put his head out of the window, which is much the same
+thing so far as we are concerned. By the bye, Vjera, you have not told me
+how you came to hear of the row. It is queer that you should have heard of
+it--"
+
+"Herr Homolka--you know, my landlord--had seen the Count go by with the
+Gigerl and the policemen. He asked some one in the crowd and learned the
+story. But it was late when he came home, and he told us--I was sitting up
+sewing with his wife--and then I ran here. But do please help me--we can
+do something, I am sure."
+
+"I do not see what, short of climbing up the flat walls of the house. But
+I am not a lizard, you know."
+
+"We might call. Perhaps they would hear our voices if we called together,"
+suggested Vjera, drawing back into the middle of the street and looking up
+at the closed windows of the third story.
+
+"Herr Fischelowitz!" she cried, in a shrill, weak tone that seemed to find
+no echo in the still air.
+
+"Herr Fischelowitz, Fischelowitz, Fischelowitz!" bawled the Cossack,
+taking up the idea and putting it into very effective execution. His
+brazen voice, harsh and high, almost made the windows rattle.
+
+"Somebody will hear that," he observed and cleared his throat for another
+effort.
+
+A number of persons heard it, and at the first repetition of the yell, two
+or three windows were angrily opened. A head in a white nightcap looked
+out from the first story.
+
+"What do you want at this hour of the night?" asked the owner of the
+nightcap, already in a rage.
+
+"I want Herr Fischelowitz, who lives in this house," answered the Cossack,
+firmly.
+
+"Do you live here? Are you shut out?"
+
+"No--we only want--"
+
+"Then go to the devil!" roared the infuriated German, shutting his window
+again with a vicious slam. A grunt of satisfaction from other directions
+was followed by the shutting of other windows, and presently all was
+silent again.
+
+"I am afraid they sleep at the back of the house," said Vjera, growing
+despondent at last.
+
+"I am afraid so, too," answered Johann Schmidt, proudly conscious that the
+noise he had made would have disturbed the slumbers of the Seven Sleepers
+of Ephesus.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+"You had better let me take you home," said Schmidt, kindly, after the
+total failure of the last effort.
+
+Vjera seemed to be stupefied by the sense of disappointment. She went back
+to the door of the tobacconist's house and put out her hand as though to
+ring the bell again then, realising how useless the attempt would be, she
+let her arms fall by her sides and leaned against the door-post, her
+muffled head bent forward and her whole attitude expressing her despair.
+
+"Come, come, Vjera," said the Cossack in an encouraging tone, "it is not
+so bad after all. By this time the Count is fast asleep and is dreaming of
+his fortune, you know, so that it would be a cruelty to wake him up. In
+the morning we will all go with Fischelowitz and have him let out, and he
+will be none the worse."
+
+"I am afraid he will be--very much the worse," said Vjera. "It is
+Wednesday to-morrow, and if he wakes up there--oh, I do not dare think of
+it. It will make him quite, quite mad. Can we do nothing more? Nothing?"
+
+"I think we have done our best to wake up this quarter of the town, and
+yet Fischelowitz is still asleep. No one else can be of any use to
+us--therefore--" he stopped, for his conclusion seemed self-evident.
+
+"I suppose so," said Vjera, regretfully. "Let us go, then."
+
+She turned and with her noiseless step began to walk slowly away, Schmidt
+keeping close by her side. For some minutes neither spoke. The streets
+were deserted, dry and still.
+
+"Do you think there is any truth at the bottom of the Count's story?"
+asked the Cossack at last.
+
+"I do not know," Vjera answered, shaking her head. "I do not know what to
+think," she continued after a little pause. "He tells us all the same
+thing, he speaks of his letters, but he never shows them to anyone. I am
+afraid--" she sighed and stopped speaking.
+
+"I will tell you this much," said her companion. "That man is honest to
+the backbone, honest as the good daylight on the hills, where there are no
+houses to darken it and make shadows."
+
+"He is an angel of goodness and kindness," said Vjera softly.
+
+"I know he is. Is he not always helping others when he is starving
+himself? Now what I say is this. No man who is as good and as honest as he
+is, can have become so mad about a mere piece of fancy--about an invented
+lie, to be plain. What there is in his story I do not know, but I am sure
+that there was truth in it once. It may have been a long time ago, but
+there was a time once, when he had some reason to expect the money and the
+titles he talks of every Tuesday evening."
+
+"Do you really think that?" asked Vjera, eagerly. Her own understanding
+had never gone so far in its deduction.
+
+"I am sure of it. I know nothing about mad people, but I am sure that no
+honest man ever invented a story out of nothing and then became crazy
+because it did not turn out true."
+
+"But you, who have travelled so much, Herr Schmidt, have you ever heard
+the name before--have you ever heard of such a family?"
+
+"I have a bad memory for names, but I believe I have. I cannot be sure. It
+makes no difference. It is a good Russian name, in any case, and a
+gentleman's name, I should think. Of course I only mean that I--that you
+should not think that because I--in fact," blundered out the good man,
+"you must not suppose that you will be a real countess, you know."
+
+"I?" exclaimed Vjera, with a nervous, hysterical laugh, which the Cossack
+supposed to be genuine.
+
+"That is all I wanted to say," he continued in a tone of relief, as though
+he felt that he had done his duty in warning the poor girl of a possible
+disappointment. "It may be true--of course, and I am sure that it once
+was, or something like it, but I do not believe he has any chance of
+getting his own after so long."
+
+"I cannot think of it--in either way. If it is all an old forgotten tale
+which he believes in still-why then, he is mad. Is it not dreadful to see?
+So quiet and sensible all the week, and then, on Tuesday night, his
+farewell speech to us all--every Tuesday--and his disappointment the next
+day, and then a new week begun without any recollection of it all! It is
+breaking my heart, Herr Schmidt!"
+
+"Indeed, poor Vjera, you look as though it were."
+
+"And yet, and yet--I do not know. I think that if it were one day to turn
+out true--then my heart would be quite broken, for he would go away, and I
+should never see him again."
+
+Accustomed as she was to daily association with the man who was walking by
+her side, knowing his good heart and feeling his sympathy, it is small
+wonder that the lonely girl should have felt impelled to unburden her soul
+of some of its bitterness. If her life had gone on as usual, undisturbed
+by anything from without, the confessions which now fell from her lips so
+easily would never have found words. But she had been unsettled by what
+had happened in the early evening, and unstrung by her great anxiety for
+the Count's safety. Her own words sounded in her ear before she knew that
+she was going to speak them.
+
+"I am sure that something dreadful is going to happen," she continued
+after a moment's pause. "He will go mad in that horrible prison, raving
+mad, so that they will have to--to hold him--" she sobbed and then
+recovered herself by an effort. "Or else--he will fall ill and die, after
+it--" Here she broke down completely and stopping in the middle of the
+street began crying bitterly, clutching at Schmidt's arm as though to keep
+from falling.
+
+"I should not wonder," he said, but she fortunately did not catch the
+words.
+
+He was very sorry for the poor girl, and felt inclined to take her in his
+arms and carry her to her home, for he saw that she was weak and exhausted
+as well as overcome by her anxiety. Before resorting to such a measure,
+however, he thought it best to try to encourage her to walk on.
+
+"Nothing that one expects, ever happens," he said confidently, and passing
+his arm through hers, as though to lead her away. "Come, you will be at
+home presently and then you will go to bed and in the morning, before you
+are at the shop, everything will have been set right, and I daresay the
+Count will be there before you, and looking as well as ever."
+
+"How can you say that, when you know that he never comes on Wednesdays!"
+exclaimed Vjera through her tears. "I am sure something dreadful will
+happen to him. No, not that way--not that way!"
+
+Schmidt was trying to guide her round a sharp corner, but she resisted
+him.
+
+"But that is the way home," protested the Cossack.
+
+"I know, but I cannot go home, until I have seen where he is. I must
+go--you must not prevent me!"
+
+"To the police-station?" inquired Schmidt in considerable astonishment.
+"They will not let us go in, you know. You cannot possibly see him. What
+good can it do you to go and look at the place?"
+
+"You do not understand, Herr Schmidt! You are good and kind, but you do
+not understand me. Pray, pray come with me, or let me go alone. I will go
+alone, if you do not want to come. I am not at all afraid--but I must go."
+
+"Well, child," answered Schmidt, good-humouredly. "I will go with you,
+since you are so determined."
+
+"Is this the way? Are you not misleading me? Oh, I am sure I shall never
+see him again--quick, let us walk quickly, Herr Schmidt! Only think what
+he may be suffering at this very moment!"
+
+"I am sure he is asleep, my dear child. And when we are outside of the
+police-station we cannot know what is going on inside, whether our friend
+is asleep or awake, and it can do no good whatever to go. But since you
+really wish it so much, we are going there as fast as we can, and I
+promise to take you by the shortest way."
+
+Her step grew more firm as they went on and he felt that there was more
+life in the hand that rested on his arm. The prospect of seeing the walls
+of the place in which the Count was unwillingly spending the night gave
+Vjera fresh strength and courage. The way was long, as distances are
+reckoned in Munich, and more than ten minutes elapsed before they reached
+the building. A sentry was pacing the pavement under the glare of the
+gaslight, his shadow lengthening, shortening, disappearing and lengthening
+again on the stone-way as he walked slowly up and down. Vjera and her
+companion stopped on the other side of the street. The sentinel paid no
+attention to them.
+
+"You are quite sure it is there?" asked the girl, under her breath.
+Schmidt nodded instead of answering.
+
+"Then I will pray that all may be well this night," she said.
+
+She dropped the Cossack's arm and slipped away from him; then pausing at a
+little distance, in the deep shadow of an archway opposite the station,
+she knelt down upon the pavement, and taking some small object, which was
+indistinguishable in the darkness, from the bosom of her frock she clasped
+her hands together and looked upwards through the gloom at the black walls
+of the great building. The Cossack looked at her in a sort of half-stupid,
+half-awed surprise, scarcely understanding what she was doing at first,
+and feeling his heart singularly touched when he realised that she was
+praying out here in the street, kneeling on the common pavement of the
+city, as though upon the marble floor of a church, and actually saying
+prayers--he could hear low sounds of earnest tone escaping from her
+lips--prayers for the man she loved, because he was shut up for the night
+in the police-station like an ordinary disturber of the peace. He was
+touched, for the action, in its simplicity of faith, set in vibration the
+chords of a nature accustomed originally to simple things, simple hopes,
+simple beliefs. Instinctively, as he watched her, Johann Schmidt raised
+his hat from his round head for a moment, and if he had possessed any
+nearer acquaintance with praying in general or with any prayer in
+particular it is almost certain that his lips would have moved. As it was,
+he felt sorry for Vjera, he hoped that the Count would be none the worse
+for his adventure, and he took off his hat. Let it be counted to him for
+righteousness.
+
+As for poor Vjera herself, she was so much in earnest that she altogether
+forgot where she was. For love, it has been found, is a great suggester of
+prayer, if not of meditation, and when the beloved one is in danger a
+little faith seems magnified to such dimensions as would certainly accept
+unhesitatingly a whole mountain of dogmas. Vjera's ideas were indeed
+confused, and she would have found it hard to define the result which she
+so confidently expected. But if that result were to be in any proportion
+to her earnestness of purpose and sincerity of heart, it could not take a
+less imposing shape than a direct intervention of Providence, at the very
+least; and as the poor Polish girl rose from her knees she would hardly
+have been surprised to see the green-coated sentinel thrust aside by
+legions of angelic beings, hastening to restore to her the only treasure
+her humble life knew of, or dreamed of, or cared for.
+
+But as the visions which her prayers had called before her faded away into
+the night, she saw again the dingy walls of the hated building, the gilt
+spike on the helmet of the policeman and the shining blade that caught the
+light as he moved on his beat. For one moment Vjera stood quite still.
+Then with a passionate gesture she stretched out both arms before her, as
+though to draw out to herself, by sheer strength of longing, the man whose
+life she felt to be her own--and at last, wearied and exhausted, but no
+longer despairing altogether, she covered her face with her hands and
+repeated again and again the two words which made up the burden of her
+supplication.
+
+"Save him, save him, save him!" she whispered to herself.
+
+When she looked up, at last, Schmidt was by her side. There was something
+oddly respectful in his attitude and manner as he stood there awaiting her
+pleasure, ready to be guided by her whithersoever she pleased. It seemed
+to him that on this evening he had begun to see Vjera in a new light, and
+that she was by no means the poor, insignificant little shell-maker he had
+always supposed her to be. It seemed to him that she was transformed into
+a woman, and into a woman of strong affections and brave heart. And yet he
+knew every outline of her plain face, and had known every change of her
+expression for years, since she had first come to the shop, a mere girl
+not yet thirteen years of age. Nor had it been from lack of observation
+that he had misunderstood her, for like most men born and bred in the
+wilderness, he watched faces and tried to read them. The change had taken
+place in Vjera herself and it must be due, he thought, to her love for the
+poor madman. He smiled to himself in the dark, scarcely understanding why.
+It was strange to him perhaps that madness on the one side should bring
+into life such a world of love on the other.
+
+Vjera turned towards him and once more laid her hand upon his arm.
+
+"Thank you," she said. "I could not have slept if I had not come here
+first, and it was very good of you. I will go home, but do not come with
+me--you must be tired."
+
+"I am never tired," he answered, and they began to walk away in the
+direction whence they had come.
+
+For a long time neither spoke. At last Schmidt broke the silence.
+
+"Vjera," he said, "I have been thinking about it all and I do not
+understand it. What kind of love is it that makes you act as you do?"
+
+Vjera stood still, for they were close to her door, and there was a street
+lamp at hand so that she could see his face. She saw that he asked the
+question earnestly.
+
+"It is something that I cannot explain--it is something holy," she
+answered.
+
+Perhaps the forlorn little shell-maker had found the definition of true
+love.
+
+She let herself in with her key and Schmidt once more found himself alone
+in the street. If he had followed his natural instinct he would have
+loitered about in one of the public squares until morning, making up for
+the loss of his night's rest by sleeping in the daytime. But he had taken
+upon himself the responsibilities of marriage as they are regarded west of
+the Dnieper, and his union had been blessed by the subsequent appearance
+of a number of olive-branches. It was therefore necessary that he should
+sleep at night in order to work by day, and he reluctantly turned his
+footsteps towards home. As he walked, he thought of all that had happened
+since five o'clock in the afternoon, and of all that he had learned in the
+course of the night. Vjera's story interested him and touched him, and her
+acts seemed to remind him of something which he nevertheless could not
+quite remember. Far down in his toughened nature the strings of a
+forgotten poetry vibrated softly as though they would make music if they
+dared. Far back in the chain of memories, the memory once best loved was
+almost awake once more, the link of once clasped hands was almost alive
+again, the tender pressure of fingers now perhaps long dead was again
+almost a reality able to thrill body and soul. And with all that, and with
+the certainty that those things were gone for ever, arose the great
+longing for one more breath of liberty, for one more ride over the
+boundless steppe, for one more draught of the sour kvass, of the camp brew
+of rye and malt.
+
+The longing for such things, for one thing almost unattainable, is in man
+and beast at certain times. In the distant northern plains, a hundred
+miles from the sea, in the midst of the Laplander's village, a young
+reindeer raises his broad muzzle to the north wind, and stares at the
+limitless distance while a man may count a hundred. He grows restless from
+that moment, but he is yet alone. The next day, a dozen of the herd look
+up, from the cropping of the moss, snuffing the breeze. Then the Laps nod
+to one another, and the camp grows daily more unquiet. At times, the whole
+herd of young deer stand at gaze, as it were, breathing hard through wide
+nostrils, then jostling each other and stamping the soft ground. They grow
+unruly and it is hard to harness them in the light sledge. As the days
+pass, the Laps watch them more and more closely, well knowing what will
+happen sooner or later. And then at last, in the northern twilight, the
+great herd begins to move. The impulse is simultaneous, irresistible,
+their heads are all turned in one direction. They move slowly at first,
+biting still, here and there, at the bunches of rich moss. Presently the
+slow step becomes a trot, they crowd closely together while the Laps
+hasten to gather up their last unpacked possessions, their cooking
+utensils and their wooden gods. The great herd break together from a trot
+to a gallop, from a gallop to a break-neck race, the distant thunder of
+their united tread reaches the camp during a few minutes, and they are
+gone to drink of the polar sea. The Laps follow after them, dragging
+painfully their laden sledges in the broad track left by the thousands of
+galloping beasts--a day's journey, and they are yet far from the sea, and
+the trail is yet broad. On the second day it grows narrower, and there are
+stains of blood to be seen; far on the distant plain before them their
+sharp eyes distinguish in the direct line a dark, motionless object,
+another and then another. The race has grown more desperate and more wild
+as the stampede neared the sea. The weaker reindeer have been thrown down,
+and trampled to death by their stronger fellows. A thousand sharp hoofs
+have crushed and cut through hide and flesh and bone. Ever swifter and
+more terrible in their motion, the ruthless herd has raced onward,
+careless of the slain, careless of food, careless of any drink but the
+sharp salt water ahead of them. And when at last the Laplanders reach the
+shore their deer are once more quietly grazing, once more tame and docile,
+once more ready to drag the sledge whithersoever they are guided. Once in
+his life the reindeer must taste of the sea in one long, satisfying
+draught, and if he is hindered he perishes. Neither man nor beast dare
+stand between him and the ocean in the hundred miles of his arrow-like
+path.
+
+Something of this longing came upon the Cossack, as he suddenly remembered
+the sour taste of the kvass, to the recollection of which he had been
+somehow led by a train of thought which had begun with Vjera's love for
+the Count, to end abruptly in a camp kettle. For the heart of man is much
+the same everywhere, and there is nothing to show that the step from the
+sublime to the ridiculous is any longer in the Don country than in any
+other part of the world. But between poor Johann Schmidt and his draught
+of kvass there lay obstacles not encountered by the reindeer in his race
+for the Arctic Ocean. There was the wife, and there were the children, and
+there was the vast distance, so vast that it might have discouraged even
+the fleet-footed scourer of the northern snows. Johann Schmidt might long
+for his kvass, and draw in his thin, wan lips at the thought of the taste
+of it, and bend his black brows and close his sharp eyes as in a dream--it
+was all of no use, there was no change in store for him. He had cast his
+lot in the land of beer and sausages, and he must work out his salvation
+and the support of his family without a ladleful of the old familiar brew
+to satisfy his unreasonable caprices.
+
+So, last of all those concerned in the events of the evening, Johann
+Schmidt went home to bed and to rest. That power, at least, had remained
+with him. Whenever he lay down he could close his eyes and be asleep, and
+forget the troubles and the mean trifles of his thorny existence. In this
+respect he had the advantage of the others.
+
+Vjera lay down, indeed, but the attempt to sleep seemed more painful than
+the accepted reality of waking. The night was the most terrible in her
+remembrance, filled as it was with anxiety for the fate of the man she so
+dearly loved. To her still childlike inexperience of the world, the
+circumstances seemed as full of fear and danger as though the poor Count
+had been put upon his trial for a murder or a robbery on an enormous
+scale, instead of being merely detained because he could not give a
+satisfactory account of a puppet which had been found in his possession.
+In the poor girl's imagination arose visions of judges, awful personages
+in funereal robes and huge Hack caps, with cruel lips and hard, steely
+eyes, sitting in solemn state in a gloomy hall and dispensing death,
+disgrace, or long terms of prison, at the very least, to all comers. For
+her, the police-station was a dungeon, and she fancied the Count chained
+to a dank and slimy wall in a painful position, chilled to the marrow by
+the touch of the dripping stone, his teeth chattering, his face distorted
+with suffering. Of course he was in a solitary cell, behind a heavy door,
+braced with clamps and bolts and locks and studded with great dark iron
+nails. Without, the grim policemen were doubtless pacing up and down with
+drawn swords, listening with a murderous delight to the groans of their
+victim as he writhed in his chains. In the eyes of the poor and the young,
+the law is a very terrible thing, taking no account of persons, and very
+little of the relative magnitude of men's misdeeds. The province of
+justice, as Vjera conceived it, was to crush in its iron claws all who had
+the misfortune to come within its reach. Vjera had never heard of Judge
+Jeffreys nor of the Bloody Assizes, but the methods of procedure adopted
+by that eminent destroyer of his kind would have seemed mild and humane
+compared with what she supposed that all men, innocent or guilty, had to
+expect after they had once fallen into the hands of the policeman. She was
+not a German girl, taught in the common school to understand something of
+the methods by which society governs itself. Her early childhood had been
+spent in a Polish village, far within the Russian frontier, and though the
+law in Russian Poland is not exactly the irresponsible and blood-thirsty
+monster depicted by young gentlemen and old maids who traverse the country
+in search of horrors, yet it must be admitted by the least prejudiced that
+it sometimes moves in a mysterious way, calculated to rouse some
+apprehension in the minds of those who are governed by it. And Vjera had
+brought with her her childish impressions, and applied them in the present
+case as descriptive of the Munich police-station. The whole subject was to
+her so full of horror that she had not dared to ask Schmidt for the
+details of the Count's situation. To her, a revolutionary caught in the
+act of undermining the Tsar's bedroom, could not be in a worse case. She
+would not have believed Schmidt, had he told her that the Count was
+sitting in an attitude of calm thought upon the edge of a broad wooden
+bench, his hands quite free from chains and gyves, and occupied in rolling
+cigarettes at regular intervals of half an hour--and this, in a clean and
+well-ventilated room, lighted by a ground glass lantern. She would have
+supposed that Schmidt was inventing a description of such comfort and
+comparative luxury in order to calm her fears, and she would have been ten
+times more afraid than before.
+
+It is small wonder that she could not sleep. The Count's arrest alone
+would have sufficed to keep her in an agony of wakefulness, and there were
+other matters, besides that, which tormented the poor girl's brain. She
+had been long accustomed to his singular madness and to hearing from him
+the assurance of his returning to wealth. At first, with perfect
+simplicity, she had believed every word of the story he told with such
+evident certainty of its truth, and she had reproached her older
+companions, as far as she dared, for their incredulity. But at last she
+had herself been convinced of his madness as through the weeks, and
+months, and years, the state of expectation returned on Tuesday evenings,
+to be followed by the disappointments of Wednesday and by the oblivion
+which ensued on Thursday morning. Vjera, like the rest, had come to regard
+the regularly recurring delusion as being wholly groundless, and not to be
+taken into account, except inasmuch as it deprived them of the Count's
+company on Wednesdays, for on that day he stayed at home, in his garret
+room, waiting for the high personages who were to restore to him his
+wealth. Sometimes, indeed, when he chanced to be very sure that they would
+not come for him until evening, he would stroll through the town for an
+hour, looking into the shop windows and making up his mind what he should
+buy; and sometimes, on such occasions, he would visit the scene of his
+late labours, as he called the tobacconist's shop on that day of the week,
+and would exchange a few friendly words with his former companions. On
+Thursday morning he invariably returned to his place without remark and
+resumed his work, not seeming to understand any observations made about
+his absence or strange conduct on the previous day.
+
+So far the story he had told Vjera had always been the same. Now, however,
+he had introduced a new incident in the tale, which filled poor Vjera with
+dismay. He had never before spoken of his father and brother, except as
+the causes of his disasters, explaining that the powerful influence of his
+own friends, aided by the machinery of justice, had at last obliged them
+to concede him a proportional part of the fortune. Fischelowitz was
+accustomed to laugh at this statement, saying that if the Count were only
+a younger son, the law would do nothing for him and that he must continue
+to earn his livelihood as he could. In the course of a long time Vjera had
+come to the conclusion, by comparing this remark with the Count's
+statement when in his abnormal condition, that he was indeed the son of a
+great noble who had turned him out of doors for some fancied misdeed, and
+from whom he had in reality nothing to expect. Such was the girl's present
+belief.
+
+Now, however, he had suddenly declared that his father and his brother
+were dead. With a woman's keenness she took alarm at this new development.
+She really loved the poor man with all her heart. If this new addition to
+his story were a mere invention, it was a sign that his madness was
+growing upon him, and she had heard her companions discuss their comrade
+often enough to know that, in their opinion, if he began to grow worse, he
+would very soon be in the madhouse. It was bad enough to go through what
+she suffered so often, to see the inward struggle expressed on his face,
+whenever he chanced to be alone with her on a Tuesday afternoon, to hear
+from his lips the same assurance of love, the same offer of marriage, and
+to know that all would be forgotten and that his manner to her would
+change again, by Thursday, to that of a uniform, considerate kindness. It
+was bad enough, for the girl loved him and was sensitive. But it would be
+worse--how much worse, she dared not think--to see him go mad before her
+very eyes, to see him taken away at last from the midst of them all to the
+huge brick house in the outskirts of the city beyond the Isar.
+
+One more hypothesis remained. This time the story might turn out true. She
+believed in his birth and in his misfortunes, and in the existence of his
+father and his brother. They might indeed be dead, as he had told her, and
+he would then, perhaps, be sole master in their stead--she did not know
+how that would be, in Russia. But then, if it were all true, he must go
+away--and her life would be over, with its loving hope and its hopeless
+love.
+
+It is small wonder that Vjera did not sleep that night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+Once or twice in the course of the night, the Count changed his position,
+got up, stretched himself and paced the length of the room. Dumnoff lay
+like a log upon his pallet, his head thrown back, his mouth open, snoring
+with the strong bass vibration of a thirty-two-foot organ pipe. The Count
+looked at him occasionally, but did not envy him his power of sleep. His
+own reflections were in a measure more agreeable than any dream could have
+been, certainly more so in his judgment than the visions of unlimited
+cabbage soup, vodka, and fighting which were doubtless delighting
+Dumnoff's slumbering soul.
+
+As the church clocks struck one hour after another, his spirits rose. He
+had, indeed, never had the least apprehension concerning his own liberty,
+since he knew himself to be perfectly innocent. He only desired to be
+released as soon as possible in order to repair the damage done to his
+coat and collar before the earliest hour at which the messengers of good
+news could be expected at his house. Meanwhile he cared little whether he
+spent the night on a bench in the police-station, or on one of the rickety
+wooden chairs which afforded the only sitting accommodation in his own
+room. He could not sleep in either case, for his brain was too wide awake
+with the anticipations of the morrow, and with the endless plans for
+future happiness which suggested themselves.
+
+At last he was aware that the nature of the light in the room was changing
+and that the white ground glass of the lantern was illuminated otherwise
+than by the little flame within. The high window, as he looked up, was
+like a grey figure cut out of dark paper, and the dawn was stealing in at
+last.
+
+"Wednesday at last!" he exclaimed softly to himself. "Wednesday at last!"
+A gentle smile spread over his tired face, and made it seem less haggard
+and drawn than it really was.
+
+The day broke, and somewhere not far from the window, the birds all began
+to sing at once, filling the room with a continuous strain of sound, loud,
+clear and jubilant. The soft spring air seemed to awake, as though it had
+itself been sleeping through the still night and must busy itself now in
+sending the sweet breezes upon their errands to the flowers.
+
+"I always thought it would come in spring," thought the Count, as he
+listened to the pleasant sounds, and then held one of his yellow hands up
+to the window to feel the freshness that was without.
+
+He wondered how long it would be before Fischelowitz would come and tell
+the truth of the Gigerl's story. By his knowledge of the time of daybreak,
+he guessed that it was not yet much past four o'clock, and he doubted
+whether Fischelowitz would come before eight. The tobacconist was a kind
+man, but a comfortable one, loving his rest and his breakfast and his ease
+at all times. Moreover, as the Count knew better than any one else,
+Akulina would be rejoiced to hear of the misadventure which had befallen
+her enemy and would in no way hurry her husband upon his mission of
+justice. She would doubtless consume an unusual amount of time in the
+preparation of his coffee, she would presumably tell him that the milkman
+had not appeared punctually, and would probably assert that there were as
+yet no rolls to be had. The immediate consequence of these spiteful
+fictions would be that Fischelowitz would dress himself very leisurely,
+swallowing the smoke of several cigarettes in the meanwhile, and that he
+would hardly be clothed, fed and out of the house before eight in the
+morning, instead of being on the way to the shop at seven as was his usual
+practice.
+
+But the Count was not at all disturbed by this. The persons whose coming
+he expected were not of the class who pay visits at eight o'clock. It was
+as pleasant to sit still and think of the glorious things in the future,
+as to do anything else, until the great moment came. Here, at least, he
+was undisturbed by the voices of men, unless Dumnoff's portentous snore
+could be called a voice, and to this his ear had grown accustomed.
+
+He sat down again, therefore, in his old position, crossed one knee over
+the other and again produced the piece of crumpled newspaper which held
+his tobacco. The supply was low, but he consoled himself with the belief
+that Dumnoff probably had some about him, and rolled what remained of his
+own for immediate consumption.
+
+He was quite right in his surmises concerning his late employer and the
+latter's wife. Akulina had in the first place let her husband sleep as
+long as he pleased, and had allowed a considerable time to elapse before
+informing him of the events of the previous evening. As was to be
+expected, the good man stated his intention of immediately procuring the
+Count's liberation, and was only prevailed upon with difficulty to taste
+his breakfast. One taste, however, convinced him of the necessity of
+consuming all that was set before him, and while he was thus actively
+employed Akulina entered into the consideration of the theft, recalling
+all the details she could remember about the intimacy supposed to exist
+between the Count and the swindler in coloured glasses, and
+conscientiously showing the matter in all its aspects.
+
+"One fact remains," she said, in conclusion, "he promised you upon his
+honour last night that he would pay you the fifty marks to-day, and, in my
+opinion, since he has been the means of your losing the Gigerl after all,
+he ought to be made to pay the money."
+
+"And where can he get fifty marks to pay me?" inquired Fischelowitz with
+careless good-humour.
+
+"Where he got the doll, I suppose," said Akulina, triumphantly completing
+the vicious circle in which she caused her logic to move.
+
+Fischelowitz smiled as he pushed away his cup, rose and lighted a fresh
+cigarette.
+
+"You are a very good housekeeper, Akulina, my love," he observed. "You
+always know how the money goes."
+
+"That is more than can be said for some people," laughed Akulina. "But
+never mind, Christian Gregorovitch, your wife is only a weak woman, but
+she can take care for two, never fear!"
+
+Fischelowitz was of the same opinion as he, at last, took his hat and left
+the house. To him, the whole affair had a pleasant savour of humour about
+it, and he was by no means so much disturbed as Johann Schmidt or Vjera.
+He had lived in Munich many years and understood very well the way in
+which things are managed in the good-natured Bavarian capital. A night in
+the police-station in the month of May seemed by no means such a terrible
+affair, certainly not a matter involving any great suffering to any one
+concerned. Moreover it could not be helped, a consideration which, when
+available, was a great favourite with the rotund tobacconist. Whatever the
+Count had done on the previous night, he said to himself, was done past
+undoing; and though, if he had found Akulina awake when he returned from
+spending the evening with his friend, and if she had then told him what
+had happened, he would certainly have made haste to get the Count
+released--yet, since Akulina had been sound asleep, he had necessarily
+gone to bed in ignorance of the story, to the temporary inconvenience of
+the arrested pair.
+
+He was not long in procuring an order for the Count's release, but
+Dumnoff's case seemed to be considered as by far the graver of the two,
+since he had actually been guilty of grasping the sacred, green legs of
+two policemen, at the time in the execution of their duty, and of
+violently turning the aforesaid policemen upside down in the public room
+of an eating-house. It was, indeed, reckoned as favourable to him that he
+had returned and submitted to being handcuffed without offering further
+resistance, but it might have gone hard with him if Fischelowitz had not
+procured the co-operation of a Munich householder and taxpayer to bail him
+out until the inquiry should be made. It would have been a serious matter
+for Fischelowitz to lose the work of Dumnoff in his "celebrated
+manufactory" for any length of time together, since it was all he could do
+to meet the increasing demands for his wares with his present staff of
+workers.
+
+"And how did you spend the night, Count?" he inquired as they walked
+quickly down the street together. Dumnoff had made off in the opposite
+direction, in search of breakfast, after which he intended to go directly
+to the shop, as though nothing had happened.
+
+"I spent it very pleasantly, thank you," answered the Count. "The fact is
+that, with such an interesting day before me, I should not have slept if I
+had been at home. I have so much to think of, as you may imagine, and so
+many preparations to make, that the time cannot seem long with me."
+
+"I am glad of that," said Fischelowitz, serenely. "I suppose we shall not
+see you to-day?"
+
+"Hardly--hardly," replied the Count, as though considering whether his
+engagements would allow him to look in at the shop. "You will certainly
+see me this evening, at the latest," he added, as if he had suddenly
+recollected something. "I have not forgotten that I am to hand you fifty
+marks--I only regret that you should have lost the Gigerl, which, I think
+I have heard you say, afforded you some amusement. However, the money
+shall be in your hands without delay, or with as little delay as possible.
+My friends will in all probability arrive by the mid-day train and will,
+of course, come to me at once. An hour or so to talk over our affairs, and
+I shall then have leisure to come to you for a few moments and to settle
+that unfortunate affair. Not indeed, my dear Herr Fischelowitz, that I
+have ever held myself responsible for the dishonest young man who wore
+green spectacles. I was, indeed, a loser by him myself, in an
+insignificant sum, and as he turned out to be such an indifferent
+character, I do not mind acknowledging the fact. I do not think it can
+harm him, if I do. No. I was not responsible for him to you, but since
+your excellent wife, Frau Fischelowitz, labours under the impression that
+I was, I am quite willing to accept the responsibility, and shall
+therefore discharge the debt before night, as a matter of honour."
+
+"It is very kind of you," remarked the tobacconist, smiling at the
+impressive manner in which the promise was made. "But of course, Count, if
+anything should prevent the arrival of your friends, you will not consider
+this to be an engagement."
+
+"Nothing will prevent the coming of those I expect, nor, if anything
+could, would such an accident prevent my fulfilling an engagement which,
+since your excellent wife's remarks last night, I do consider binding upon
+my honour. And now, Herr Fischelowitz, with my best thanks for your
+intervention this morning, I will leave you. After the vicissitudes to
+which I have been exposed during the last twelve hours, my appearance is
+not what I could wish it to be. I have the pleasure to wish you a very
+good morning."
+
+Shaking his companion heartily by the hand, the Count bowed civilly and
+turned into an unfrequented street. Fischelowitz looked after him a few
+seconds, as though expecting that he would turn back and say something
+more, and then walked briskly in the direction of his shop.
+
+He found Akulina standing at the door which led into the workroom, in such
+a position as to be able to serve a customer should any chance to enter,
+and yet so placed as to see the greater part of her audience. For she was
+holding forth volubly in her thick, strong voice, giving her very decided
+opinion about the events of the previous evening, the Count, considered in
+the first place as a specimen of the human race, and secondly, as in
+relation to his acts. Her hearers were poor Vjera, her insignificant
+companion and the Cossack who listened, so to say, without enthusiasm,
+unless the occasional foolish giggle of the younger girl was to be taken
+for the expression of applause.
+
+"I am thoroughly sick of his crazy ways," she was saying, "and if he were
+not really such a good workman we should have turned him out long ago. But
+he really does make cigarettes very well, and with the new shop about to
+be opened, and the demand there is already, it is all we can do to keep
+people satisfied. Not but what my husband has been talking lately of
+getting a new workman from Vilna, and if he turns out to be all that we
+expect, why the Count may go about his business and we shall be left in
+peace at last. Indeed it is high time. My poor nerves will not stand many
+more such scenes as last night, and as for my poor husband, I believe he
+has lost as much money through the Count and his friends as he has paid to
+him for work, and if you turn that into figures it makes the cigarettes he
+rolls worth six marks a thousand instead of three, which is more than any
+pocket can stand, while there are children to be fed at home. And if you
+have anything to say to that, little husband, why just say it!"
+
+Fischelowitz had entered the shop and the last words were addressed to
+him.
+
+"Oh, nothing, nothing," he answered, beginning to bustle cheerily about
+the place, setting a box straight here, removing an empty one there,
+opening the till and counting the small change, and, generally, doing all
+those things which he was accustomed to do when he appeared in the
+morning.
+
+Poor Vjera looked paler and more waxen than ever in her life before, so
+pale indeed was she that the total absence of colour lent a sort of
+refinement to her plain features, not often found even in really beautiful
+faces. She had suffered intensely and was suffering still. From the first
+words that Akulina had spoken she had understood that the Count had been
+in the station-house all night, and she found herself reviewing all the
+hideous visions of his cruel treatment which she had conjured up since the
+previous evening. Akulina of course hastened to say that Fischelowitz had
+lost no time in having the poor man set at liberty, and this at least was
+a relief to Vjera's great anxiety. But she wanted to hear far more than
+Akulina could or would tell, she longed to know whether he had really
+suffered as she fancied he had, and how he looked after spending in a
+prison the night that had seemed so long to her. She would have given
+anything to overwhelm the tobacconist with questions, to ask for a minute
+description of the Count's appearance, to express her past terrors to some
+one and to have some one tell her that they had been groundless.
+
+But she dared not open her lips to speak of the matters which filled her
+thoughts. She was so wretchedly nervous that she felt as though the tears
+would break out at the sound of her own voice, and at the same time she
+was disturbed by the consciousness that Johann Schmidt's eyes watched her
+closely from the corner in which he was steadily wielding his swivel
+knife. It had been almost natural to tell him of her love in the darkness
+of the streets, in the mad anxiety for the loved one's safety, in the
+weariness and the hopelessness of the night hours. But now, sitting at her
+little table, at her daily work, with all the trivial objects that
+belonged to it recalling her to the reality of things, she realised that
+her day-dreams were no longer her secret, and she was ashamed that any one
+should guess the current of her thoughts. It was hard for her to
+understand how she could have thus taken the Cossack into her confidence,
+and she would have made almost any sacrifice to take back the confession.
+Good he was, and honest, and kind-hearted, but she was ashamed of what she
+had done. It seemed to her that, besides giving up to another the
+knowledge of her heart, she had also done something against the dignity of
+him she loved. She herself felt no superiority over Johann Schmidt; they
+were equals in every way. But she did feel, and strongly, that the Cossack
+was not the equal of the Count, and she reproached herself with having
+made a confidant of one beneath her idol in station and refinement. This
+feeling sprang from such a multiplicity of sources, as almost to defy
+explanation. There was, at the bottom of it, the strange, unreasoning
+notion of the superiority of one class over another by right of blood,
+from which no race seems to be wholly exempt, and which has produced such
+surprising results in the world. Poor Vjera had been brought up in one of
+those countries where that tradition is still strongest. The mere sound of
+the word "Count" evoked a body of impressions so firmly rooted, so deeply
+ingrained, as necessarily to influence her judgment. The outward manner of
+the man did the rest, his dignity under all circumstances, his
+uncomplaining patience, his unquestioning generosity, his quiet courtesy
+to every one. There was something in every word he spoke, in his every
+action, which distinguished him from his companions. They themselves felt
+it. He was sometimes ridiculous, poor man, and they laughed together over
+his carefully chosen language, over the grand sweep of his bow and his
+punctilious attention to the smallest promise or shadow of a promise.
+These things amused them, but at the same time they felt that he could
+never be what they were, and that those manners and speeches of his,
+which, if they had imitated them, would have seemed in themselves so many
+forms of vulgarity, were somehow not vulgar in him. Vjera, as she loved
+him, felt all this far more keenly than the others. And besides, to add to
+her embarrassment at present, there was the girl's maidenly shyness and
+timidity. Since she had told Johann Schmidt her secret, she felt as though
+all eyes were upon her, and as though every one were about to turn upon
+her with those jesting questions which coarse natures regard as
+expressions of sympathy where love is concerned. And yet no one spoke to
+her, nor disturbed her. There was only the disquieting consciousness of
+the Cossack's curious scrutiny to remind her that all things were not as
+they had been yesterday.
+
+The hours of the morning seemed endless. On all other days, Vjera was
+accustomed to see the Count's quiet face opposite to her, and when she was
+most weary of her monotonous toil, a glance at him gave her fresh courage,
+and turned the currents of her thoughts into a channel not always smooth
+indeed, but long familiar and never wearisome to follow. The stream
+emptied, it is true, into the dead sea of doubt, and each time, as she
+ended the journey of her fancy, she felt the cruel chill of the
+conclusion, as though she had in reality fallen into a deep, dark water;
+but she was always able to renew the voyage, to return to the
+fountain-head of love, enjoying at least the pleasant, smooth reaches of
+the river, that lay between the racing rapids and the tumbling falls.
+
+But to-day there was no one at the little table opposite, and Vjera's
+reflections would not be guided in their familiar course. Her heart
+yearned for the lonely man who, on that day, sat in the solitude of his
+poor chamber confidently expecting the messengers of good tidings who
+never came. She wondered what expression was on his face, as he watched
+the door and listened for the fall of feet upon the stairs. She knew, for
+she knew his nature, that he had carefully dressed himself in what he had
+that was best, in order to receive decently the long-expected visit; she
+fancied that he would move thoughtfully about the narrow room, trying to
+give it a feebly festive look in accordance with his own inward happiness.
+He would forget to eat, as he sat there, hearing the hours chime one after
+another, seeing the sun rise higher and higher until noon and watching the
+lengthening shadows of the chimneys on the roofs as day declined. More
+than all, she wondered what that dreadful moment could be like when, each
+week, he gave up hope at last, and saw that it had all been a dream. She
+had seen him more than once, towards the evening of the regularly
+recurring day, still confidently expecting the coming of his friends,
+explaining that they must come by the last train, and hastening away in
+order to be ready to receive them. Somewhere between the Wednesday evening
+and the Thursday morning there must be an hour, of which she hardly dared
+to think, in which all was made clear to him, or in which a veil descended
+over all, shutting out in merciful obscurity the brilliant vision and the
+bitter disappointment. If she could only be with him at that moment, she
+thought, she might comfort him, she might make his sufferings more easy to
+bear, and at the idea the tears that were so near rose nearer still to the
+flowing, kept back only by shame of being seen.
+
+It was a terrible day, and everything jarred upon the poor girl's nature,
+from Akulina's thick, strong voice, continually discussing the question of
+marks and pennies, with occasional allusions to late events, to the
+disagreeable, scratching, paring sound of the Cossack's heavy knife as it
+cut its way through the great packages of leaves. The mid-day hour
+afforded no relief, for the pressure of work was great and each of the
+workers had brought a little food to be eaten in haste and almost without
+a change of position. For the work was paid for in proportion to its
+quantity, and the poor people were glad enough when there was so much to
+do, since there was then just so much more to be earned. There were times
+when the demand was slack and when Fischelowitz would not keep his people
+at their tables for more than two or three hours in a day. They might
+occupy the rest of their time as they could, and earn something in other
+ways, if they were able. When those hard times came poor Vjera picked up a
+little sewing, paid for at starvation rates, Johann Schmidt turned his
+hand to the repairing of furs, in which he had some skill, and which is an
+art in itself, and Dumnoff varied his existence by exercising great
+economy in the matter of food without making a similar reduction in the
+allowance of his drink. Under ordinary circumstances Vjera would have
+rejoiced at the quantity of work to be done, and as it was, her mental
+suffering did not make her fingers awkward or less nervously eager in the
+perpetual rolling of the little pieces of paper round the glass tube. Even
+acute physical pain is often powerless to affect the mechanical skill of a
+hand trained for many years to repeat the same little operation thousands
+of times in a day with unvarying perfection. Vjera worked as well and as
+quickly as ever, though the hours seemed so endlessly long as to make her
+wonder why she did not turn out more work than usual. From time to time
+the two men exchanged more or less personal observations after their
+manner.
+
+"It seems to me that you work better than usual," remarked the Cossack,
+looking at Dumnoff.
+
+"I feel better," laughed the latter. "I feel as though I had been having a
+holiday and a country dance."
+
+"For the sake of your health, you ought to have a little excitement now
+and then," continued Schmidt. "It is hard for a man of your constitution
+to be shut up day after day as you are here. A little bear-fight now and
+then would do you almost as much good as an extra bottle of brandy,
+besides being cheaper."
+
+"Yes." Dumnoff yawned, displaying all his ferocious white teeth to the
+assembled company. "That is true--and then, those green cloth policemen
+look so funny when one upsets them. I wish I had a few here."
+
+"You have not heard the last of your merry-making yet," said Fischelowitz,
+who was standing in the doorway. "If I had not got you out this morning
+you would still be in the police-station."
+
+"There is something in that," observed Schmidt. "If he were not out, he
+would still be in."
+
+"Well, if I were, I should still be asleep," said Dumnoff. "That would not
+be so bad, after all."
+
+"You may be there again before long," suggested Fischelowitz. "You know
+there is to be an inquiry. I only hope you will do plenty of work before
+they lock you up for a fortnight."
+
+"I suppose they will let me work in prison," answered Dumnoff,
+indifferently. "They do in some places."
+
+Vjera, whose ideas of prisons have been already explained at length, was
+so much surprised that she at last opened her lips.
+
+"Have you ever been in prison?" she asked in a wondering tone.
+
+"Several times," replied the other, without looking up. "But always," he
+added, as though suddenly anxious for his reputation, "always for that
+sort of thing--for upsetting somebody who did not want to be upset. It is
+a curious thing--I always do it in the same way, and they always tumble
+down. One would think people would learn--" he paused as though
+considering a profound problem.
+
+"Perhaps they are not always the same people," remarked the Cossack.
+
+"That is true. That may have something to do with it." The ex-coachman
+relapsed into silence.
+
+"But, is it not very dreadful--in prison?" asked Vjera rather timidly,
+after a short pause.
+
+"No--if one can sleep well, the time passes very pleasantly. Of course,
+one is not always as comfortable as we were last night. That is not to be
+expected."
+
+"Comfortable!" exclaimed the girl in surprise.
+
+"Well--we had a nice room with a good light, and there happened to be
+nobody else in for the night. It was dry and clean and well
+furnished--rather hard beds, I believe, though I scarcely noticed them. We
+smoked and talked some time and then I went to sleep. Oh, yes--I passed a
+very pleasant evening, and a comfortable night."
+
+"But I thought--" Vjera hesitated, as though fearing that she was going to
+say something foolish. "I thought that prisoners always had chains," she
+said, at last.
+
+Everybody laughed loudly at this remark and the poor girl felt very much
+ashamed of herself, though the question had seemed so natural and had been
+in her mind a long time. It was an immense relief, however, to know that
+things had not been so bad as she had imagined, and Dumnoff's description
+of the place of his confinement was certainly reassuring.
+
+As the endless day wore on, she began to glance anxiously towards the
+door, straining her ears for a familiar footstep in the outer shop. As has
+been said, the Count sometimes looked in on Wednesdays, when his
+calculations had convinced him that his friends, not having arrived by one
+train, could not be expected for several hours. But to-day he did not
+come, to-day when Vjera would have given heaven and earth for a sight of
+him. Never, in her short life, had she realised how slowly the hours could
+limp along from sunrise to noon, from noon to sunset, never had the little
+spot of sunlight which appeared in the back-shop on fine afternoons taken
+so long to crawl its diagonal course from the left front-leg of Dumnoff's
+table, where it made its appearance, to the right-hand corner of her own,
+at which point it suddenly went out and was seen no more, being probably
+intercepted by some fixed object outside.
+
+Time is the measure of most unhapppiness, for it is in sorrow and anxiety
+that we are most keenly conscious of it, and are oppressed by its leaden
+weight. When we are absorbed in work, in study, in the production of
+anything upon which all our faculties are concentrated, we say that the
+time passes quickly. When we are happy we know nothing of time nor of its
+movement, only, long afterwards, we look back, and we say, "How short the
+hours seemed then!"
+
+Vjera toiled on and on, watching the creeping sunshine on the floor,
+glancing at the ever-increasing heap of cut leaves that fell from the
+Cossack's cutting-block, noting the slow rise in the pile of paper shells
+before her and comparing it with that produced by the girl at her elbow,
+longing for the moment when she would see the freshly-made cigarettes just
+below the inner edge of Dumnoff's basket, taking account of every little
+thing by which to persuade herself that the day was declining and the
+evening at hand.
+
+Her life was sad and monotonous enough at the best of times. It seemed as
+though the accidents of the night had made it by contrast ten times more
+sad and monotonous and hopeless than before.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+The Count, as Vjera supposed, had dressed himself with even greater care
+than usual in anticipation of the official visit, and while she was
+working through the never-ending hours of her weary day, he was calmly
+seated upon a chair by the open window in his little room, one leg crossed
+over the other, one hand thrust into the bosom of his coat and the other
+extended idly upon the table by his side. His features expressed the
+perfect calm and satisfaction of a man who knows that something very
+pleasant is about to happen, who has prepared himself for it, and who sits
+in the midst of his swept and garnished dwelling in an attitude of pleased
+expectancy.
+
+The Count's face was tired, indeed, and there were dark circles under his
+sunken grey eyes, brought there by loss of sleep as much as by an habitual
+facility for forgetting to eat and drink. But in the eyes themselves there
+was a bright, unusual light, as though some brilliant spectacle were
+reflected in them out of the immediate future. There was colour, too, in
+his lean cheeks, a slight flush like that which comes into certain dark
+faces with the anticipation of any keen pleasure. As he sat in his chair,
+he looked constantly at the door of the room, as though expecting it to
+open at any moment. From time to time, voices and footsteps were heard on
+the stairs, far below. When any of these sounds reached him, the Count
+rose gravely from his seat, and stood in the middle of the room, slowly
+rubbing his hands together, listening again, moving a step to the one side
+or the other and back again, in the mechanical manner of a person to whom
+a visitor has been announced and who expects to see him appear almost
+immediately. But the footsteps echoed and died away and the voices were
+still again. The Count stood still a few moments when this happened,
+satisfying himself that he had been mistaken, and then, shaking his head
+and once more passing his hands round each other, he resumed his seat and
+his former attitude. He listened also for the chiming of the hours, and
+when he was sure that an hour had passed since the arrival of his
+imaginary express train, he rose again, looked out of the window, watched
+the wheeling of the house swallows, and assumed an air of momentary
+indifference. The next ringing of the clock bells revived the illusion.
+Another train was doubtless just running in to the station, and in a
+quarter of an hour his friends might be with him. There was no time to be
+lost. The flush returned to his cheeks as he hastily combed his smooth
+hair for the twentieth time, examining his appearance minutely in the
+dingy, spotted mirror, brushing his clothes--far too well brushed these
+many years--and lastly making sure that there was no weak point in the
+adjustment of his false collar. He made another turn of inspection round
+his little room, feeling sure that there was just time to see that all was
+right and in order, but already beginning to listen for a noise of
+approaching people on the stairs. Once more he straightened and arranged
+the patched coverlet of Turkey red cotton upon the bed, so that it should
+hide the pillows and the sheets; once more he adjusted the clean towel
+neatly upon the wooden peg over the washing-stand, discreetly concealing
+the one he had used in the drawer of the table; for the last time he made
+sure that the chair which had the broken leg was in such close and perfect
+contact with the wall as to make it safely serviceable if not rashly
+removed into a wider sphere of action. Then, as he passed the chest of
+drawers, he gave a final touch to the half-dozen ragged-edged books which
+composed his library--three volumes of Puschkin, of three different
+editions, Ivan Kryloff's _Poems and Fables_, Gogol's _Terrible Revenge_,
+Tolstoi's _How People Live_, and two or three more, including Koltsoff,
+the shepherd poet, and an ancient guide to the city of Kiew--as
+heterogeneous a collection of works as could be imagined, yet all notable
+in their way, except, indeed, the guide-book, for beauty, power, or
+touching truth.
+
+And when he had touched and straightened everything in the room, he
+returned to his seat, calmly expectant as ever, to wait for the footsteps
+on the stairs, to rise and rub his hands, if the sound reached him, to
+shake his head gravely if he were again disappointed, in short to go
+through the same little round of performance as before until some chiming
+clock suggested to his imagination that the train had come and brought no
+one, and that he might enjoy an interval of distraction in looking out of
+the window until the next one arrived. The Count must have had a very
+exaggerated idea of the facility of communication between Munich and
+Russia, for he assuredly stood waiting for his friends, combed, brushed,
+and altogether at his best, more than twenty times between the morning and
+the evening. As the day declined, indeed, his imaginary railway station
+must have presented a scene of dangerous confusion, for his international
+express trains seemed to come in quicker and quicker succession, until he
+barely had time to look out of the window before it became necessary to
+comb his hair again in order to be ready for the next possible arrival. At
+last he walked perpetually on a monotonous beat from the window to the
+mirror, from the mirror to the door, and from the door to the mirror
+again.
+
+Suddenly he stopped and tapped his forehead with his hand. The sun was
+setting and the last of his level rays shot over the sea of roofs and the
+forest of chimneys and entered the little room in a broad red stream,
+illuminating the lean, nervous figure as it stood still in the ruddy
+light.
+
+"Good Heavens!" exclaimed the Count, in a tone of great anxiety, "I have
+forgotten Fischelowitz and his money."
+
+There was a considerable break in the continuity of the imaginary
+time-table, for he stood still a long time, in deep thought. He was
+arguing the case in his mind. What he had promised was, to consider the
+fifty marks as a debt of honour. Now a debt of honour must be paid within
+twenty-four hours. No doubt, thought the Count, it would not be altogether
+impossible to consider the twenty-four hours as extending from midnight to
+midnight. The Russians have an expression which means a day and a night
+together--they call that space of time the sutki, and it is a more or less
+elastic term, as we say "from day to day," "from one evening to another."
+Rooms in Russian hotels are let by the sutki, railway tickets are valid
+for one or more sutki, and the Count might have chosen to consider that
+his sutki extended from the time when he had spoken to Fischelowitz until
+twelve o'clock on the following night. But he had no means of knowing
+exactly what the time had been when he had been in the shop, and his
+punctilious ideas of honour drove him to under-estimate the number of
+hours still at his disposal. Moreover, and this last consideration
+determined his action, if he brought the money too late it was to be
+feared that Fischelowitz would have shut up the shop, after which there
+would be no certainty of finding him. The Count wished to make the
+restitution of the money in Akulina's presence, but he was also determined
+to give the fifty marks directly to the tobacconist.
+
+He saw that the sun was going down, and that there was no time to be lost.
+It occurred to him at the same instant that if he was to pay the debt at
+all, he must find money for that purpose, and although, in his own belief,
+he was to be master of a large fortune in the course of the evening, no
+scheme for raising so considerable a sum as fifty marks presented itself
+to his imagination. Poor as he was, he was far more used to lending than
+to borrowing, and more accustomed to giving than to either. He regretted,
+now, that he had bound himself to pay the debt to-day. It would have been
+so easy to name the next day but one. But who could have foreseen that his
+friends would miss that particular train and only arrive late in the
+evening?
+
+He paced his room in growing anxiety, his trouble increasing in exact
+proportion with the decrease of the daylight.
+
+"Fifty marks!" he exclaimed, in dismay, as he realised more completely the
+dilemma in which he was placed. "Fifty marks! It is an enormous sum to
+find at a moment's notice. If they had only telegraphed me a credit at
+once, I could have got it from a bank--a bank--yes--but they do not know
+me. That is it. They do not know me. And then, it is late."
+
+The drops of perspiration stood on his pale forehead as he began to walk
+again. He glanced at his possessions and turned from the contemplation of
+them in renewed despair. Many a time, before, he had sought among his very
+few belongings for some object upon which a pawnbroker might advance five
+marks, and he had sought in vain. The furniture of the room was not his,
+and beyond the furniture the room contained little enough. He had parted
+long ago with an old silver watch, of which the chain had even sooner
+found its way to the lender's. A long-cherished ring had disappeared last
+winter, by an odd coincidence, at the very time when Johann Schmidt's
+oldest child was lying ill with diphtheria. As for clothing, he had
+nothing to offer. The secrets of his outward appearance were known to him
+alone, but they were of a nature to discourage the hope of raising money
+on coat or trousers. A few well-thumbed volumes of Russian authors could
+not be expected to find a brilliant sale in Munich at a moment's notice.
+He looked about, and he saw that there was nothing, and he turned very
+pale.
+
+"And yet, before midnight, it must be paid," he said. Then his face
+brightened again. "Before midnight--but they will be here before then, of
+course. Perhaps I may borrow the money for a few hours."
+
+But in order to do this, or to attempt it, he must go out. What if his
+friends arrived at the moment when he was out of the house?
+
+"No," he said, consulting his imaginary time-table, "there is no train
+now, for a couple of hours, at least."
+
+He took up his hat and turned to go. It struck him, however, that to
+provide against all possible accidents it would be as well to leave some
+written word upon his table, and he took up a sheet of writing paper and a
+pen. It was remarkable that there was a good supply of the former on the
+table, and that the inkstand contained ink in a fluid state, as though the
+Count were in the habit of using it daily. He wrote rapidly, in Russian.
+
+"This line is to inform you that Count Skariatine is momentarily absent
+from his lodging on a matter of urgent importance, connected with a
+personal engagement. He will return as soon as possible and requests that
+you will have the goodness to wait, if you should happen to arrive while
+he is out."
+
+He set the piece of notepaper upright, in a prominent position upon the
+table, and exactly opposite to the door. He did not indeed recollect that
+in the course of half an hour the room would be quite dark, and he was
+quite satisfied that he had taken every reasonable precaution against
+missing his visitors altogether. Once more he seized his hat, and a moment
+later he was descending the long flights of stairs towards the street. As
+he went, the magnitude of the sum of money he needed appalled him, and by
+the time he stepped out upon the pavement into the fresh evening air, he
+was in a state of excitement and anxiety which bordered on distraction.
+His brain refused to act any longer, and he was utterly incapable of
+thinking consecutively of anything, still less of solving a problem so
+apparently incapable of solution as was involved in the question of
+finding fifty marks at an hour's notice. It was practically of little use
+to repeat the words "Fifty marks" incessantly and in an audible voice, to
+the great surprise of the few pedestrians he met. It was far from likely
+that any of them would consider themselves called upon to stop in their
+walk and to produce two large gold pieces and a small one, for the benefit
+of an odd-looking stranger. And yet, as he hurried along the street, the
+poor Count had not the least idea where he was going, and if he should
+chance to reach any definite destination in his erratic course he would
+certainly be much puzzled to decide what he was to do upon his arrival.
+The one thing which remained clearly defined in his shaken intelligence
+was that he must pay to Fischelowitz the money promised within the limit
+of time agreed upon, or be disgraced for ever in his own eyes, as well as
+in the estimation of the world at large. The latter catastrophe would be
+bad enough, but nothing short of self-destruction could follow upon his
+condemnation of himself.
+
+A special Providence is said to watch over the movements of madmen,
+sleep-walkers and drunkards. Those who find difficulty in believing in the
+direct intervention of Heaven in very trivial matters of everyday life,
+are satisfied to put a construction of less tremendous import upon the
+facts in cases concerning the preservation of their irresponsible
+brethren. A great deal may be accounted for by considering what are the
+instincts of the body when momentarily liberated from the directing
+guidance of the mind. It has been already noticed in the course of this
+story that, when the Count did not know where he was going, he was
+generally making the best of his way to the establishment in which so much
+of his time was passed. This is exactly what took place on the present
+occasion. Conscious only of his debt, and not knowing where to find money
+with which to pay it, he was unwittingly hurrying towards the very place
+in which the payment was to be made, and, within a quarter of an hour of
+his leaving his lodging, he found himself standing on the pavement, over
+against the tobacconist's shop, stupidly gazing at the glass door, the
+well-known sign and the familiar, dilapidated chalet of cigarettes which
+held a prominent place in the show window. No longer ago than yesterday
+afternoon the little Swiss cottage had been flanked by the Wiener Gigerl,
+whose smart red coat and insolent face had been the cause of so much
+disaster and anxiety during the past twenty-four hours. The very fact that
+the doll was no longer there, in its accustomed place, served to remind
+the Count of his rash promise to pay the money and dangerously increased
+the excitement which already possessed him. He wiped the cold drops from
+his brow and leaned for a moment against the brick wall behind him. He was
+dizzy, confused and tired.
+
+The tormenting thought that was driving him recalled his failing
+consciousness of outer things. He straightened himself again and made a
+step forward, as though he would cross the street, but paused again before
+his foot had left the pavement. Then he asked of his senses how he had got
+to the place where he stood. He did not remember traversing the familiar
+highways and byways by which he was accustomed daily to make his way from
+his lodging to the shop. Every object on the way had long been so well
+known to him as to cause a permanent impression in his brain, which was
+distinctly visible to him whenever he thought of the walk in any way,
+whether he had just been over the ground or not. He could not now account
+to himself for his being so near Fischelowitz's shop, and he found it
+impossible to decide whether he had come thither by his usual route or
+not. It was still harder to explain the reason for his coming, since the
+fifty marks were no nearer to his hand than before, and without them it
+was useless to think of entering. As he stood there, hesitating and trying
+to grasp the situation more clearly, it grew, on the contrary, more and
+more confused. At the same time the bells of a neighbouring church struck
+the hour, and the clanging tone revived in his mind the other impression,
+which had possessed it all day, the impression that his friends were at
+that moment arriving at the railway station. The confusion in his thoughts
+became intolerable, and he covered his eyes with one hand, steadying
+himself by pressing the other against the wall.
+
+He did not know how long he had stood thus, when an anxious voice recalled
+him to outer things--a voice in which love, sympathy, tenderness and
+anxiety for him had taken possession of the weak tones and lent them a
+passing thrill of touching music.
+
+"In Heaven's name--what is it? Speak to me--I am Vjera--here, beside you."
+
+He looked up suddenly, and seemed to recover his self-possession.
+
+"You came just in time, Vjera--God bless you. I--" he hesitated. "I
+think--I must have been a little dizzy with the heat. It is a warm
+evening--a very warm evening."
+
+He pressed an old silk pocket-handkerchief to his moist brow, the
+pocket-handkerchief which he always had about him, freshly ironed and
+smoothly folded, on the day when he expected his friends. Vjera, her face
+pale with distress, passed her arm through his and made as though she
+would walk with him down the gentle slope of the street, which leads in
+the direction of the older city. He suffered himself to be led a few steps
+in silence.
+
+"Where are you going, Vjera?" he asked, stopping again and looking into
+her face.
+
+"Wherever you like," she said, trying to speak cheerfully. She saw that
+something terrible was happening, and it was only by a desperate effort
+that she controlled the violent hysterical emotion that rose like a great
+lump in her throat.
+
+"Ah, that is it, Vjera," he answered. "That is it. Where shall I go,
+child?" Then he laughed nervously. "The fact is," he continued, "that I am
+in a very absurd position. I do not at all know what to do."
+
+Perhaps he had tried to give himself courage by the attempt to laugh, but,
+in that case, he had failed for the present. In spite of his words his
+despair was evident. His usually erect carriage was gone. His head sank
+wearily forward, his shoulders rounded themselves as though under a
+burden, his feet dragged a little as he tried to walk on again, and he
+leaned heavily on the young girl's arm.
+
+"What is it?" she asked. "Tell me--perhaps I can help you--I mean--I beg
+your pardon," she added, humbly, "perhaps it would help you to speak of
+it. That sometimes makes things seem clearer just when they have been most
+confused."
+
+"Perhaps so, Vjera, perhaps so. You are a very good girl, and you came
+just in time. I love you, Vjera--do not forget that I love you." His voice
+was by turns sharp and suddenly low and monotonous, like that of a man
+talking in sleep. Altogether his manner was so strange that poor Vjera
+feared the very worst. The extremity of her anxiety kept her from losing
+her self-possession. For the first time in her life she felt that she was
+the stronger of the two, and that if he was to be saved it must be by her
+efforts rather than by anything he was now able to do for himself. She
+loved him, mad or sane, with an admiration and a devotion which took no
+account of his intellectual state except to grieve over it for his own
+sake. The belief that in this crisis she might be of use to him, strongly
+conquered the rising hysterical passion, and drove the tears so far from
+her eyes that she wondered vaguely why she had been so near to shedding
+them a few moments sooner. She pressed his arm with her hand.
+
+"And I, too, I love you, with all my heart and soul," she said. "And if
+you will tell me what has happened, I will do what I can--if it were my
+life that were needed. I know I can help you, for God will help me."
+
+He raised his head a little and again stood still, gazing into her eyes
+with an odd sort of childish wonder.
+
+"What makes you so strong, Vjera? You used to be a weak little thing."
+
+"Love," she answered.
+
+It was strange to see such a man, outwardly lean, tough-looking, well put
+together and active, though not, indeed, powerful, looking at the poor
+white-faced girl and asking the secret of her strength, as though he
+envied it. But at that moment, the natural situation was reversed. His
+eyes were lustreless, tired, without energy. Hers were suddenly bright and
+flashing with determination, and with the expression of her new-found
+will. Vjera felt that all at once a change had come over her, the weak
+strings of her heart grew strong, the dreamy hopelessness of her thoughts
+fell away, leaving one clearly defined resolution in its place. The man
+she loved was going mad, and she would save him, cost what it might.
+
+That Faith, no larger than the tiniest mustard seed, but able to toss the
+mountains, as pebbles, from their foundations into the sea, is the
+determination to do the thing chosen to be done or to die--literally, to
+die--in the trying to do it. Death is farther from most of us than we
+fancy, and if we would but risk all, to win or lose all, we could almost
+always do the deed which looks so grimly impossible. Those who have faced
+great physical dangers, or who have been matched by fate against
+overwhelming odds of anxiety and trouble, alone know what great things are
+done when men stand at bay and face the world, and fate, and life, and
+death and misfortune, all banded together against them, and say in their
+hearts, "We will win this fight or die." Then, at that word, when it is
+spoken earnestly, in sincerity and truth, the iron will rises up and takes
+possession of the feeble body, the doubting soul shakes off its hesitating
+weakness, is drawn back upon itself like a strong bow bent double, is
+compressed and full of a terrible latent power, like the handful of deadly
+explosive which, buried in the bosom of the rock, will presently shake the
+mighty cliff to its roots, as no thunderbolt could shake it.
+
+Vjera had made up her mind that she would save the man she loved from the
+destruction which was coming upon him. How he was to be saved, she knew
+not, but then and there, on the pavement of the commonplace Munich street,
+she made her stand and faced the odds, as bravely as ever soldier faced
+the enemy's triumphant charge, though she was only a forlorn little Polish
+shell-maker, without much health or strength, and having very little
+understanding of the danger beyond that which was given to her by her
+love.
+
+She fixed her eyes upon the Count's face as though she would have him obey
+her.
+
+"I will help you, and make everything right," she said. "But you must tell
+me what the trouble is."
+
+"But how can you help me, child?" he asked, beginning to grow calmer under
+her clear gaze. "It is such a very complicated case," he continued,
+falling back gradually into his own natural manner. "You see, my friends
+have probably arrived by this train, and yet I cannot go home until I have
+set this other matter right with Fischelowitz. It is true, I have left a
+word written for them on my table, and perhaps they are there now, waiting
+for me, and if I went home I could have the money at once. But then--it
+may be too late before I get here again--"
+
+"What money?" asked Vjera, anxious to get at the truth without delay.
+
+"Oh, it is an absurd thing," he answered, growing nervous again. "Quite
+absurd--and yet, it is fifty marks--and until they come, I do not see what
+to do. Fifty marks--to-day it seems so much, and to-morrow it will seem so
+little!" He made a poor attempt to smile, but his voice trembled.
+
+"But these fifty marks--what do you need them for to-night?" Vjera asked,
+not understanding at all. "Will not to-morrow do as well?"
+
+"No, no!" he cried in renewed anxiety. "It must be to-night, now, this
+very hour. If I do not pay the money, I am ruined, Vjera, disgraced for
+ever. It is a debt of honour--you do not understand what that means,
+child, nor how terrible it is for a man not to pay before the day is
+over--ah, if it were not a debt of honour!--but there is no time to be
+lost. It is almost dark already. Go home, dear Vjera, go home. I cannot go
+with you to-night, for I must find this money. Good-night--and then
+to-morrow--I have not forgotten, and you must not forget--but there is no
+time now--good-night!"
+
+He suddenly broke away from her side and began walking quickly in the
+opposite direction, his head bent down, his arms swinging by his side. She
+ran after him and again took his arm, and looked into his face.
+
+"You must not go away like this," she said, so firmly and with so much
+authority that he stood still. "You have only half explained the trouble
+to me, but I can help you. A debt of honour, you say--what will happen if
+you do not pay it?"
+
+"I must die," answered the Count. "I could never respect myself again."
+
+"You have borrowed this money of Fischelowitz and promised to pay it
+to-day? Is that it? Tell me."
+
+"No--I never borrowed it. No, no--it was that villain, last winter, who
+gave him the Gigerl--"
+
+"And Fischelowitz expects you to pay that!" cried Vjera, indignantly. "It
+is impossible."
+
+"When I took the Gigerl away last night I promised to bring the fifty
+marks by to-night. I gave my word, my word as a gentleman, Vjera, which I
+cannot break--my word, as a gentleman," he repeated with something of his
+old dignity.
+
+"It is monstrous that Fischelowitz should have taken such a promise," said
+Vjera.
+
+"That does not alter the obligation," answered the Count proudly.
+"Besides, I gave it of my own accord. I did not wait for him to ask it,
+after his wife accused me of being the means of his losing the money."
+
+"Oh, how could she be so heartless!" Vjera exclaimed.
+
+"What was the use of telling you? I did not mean to. Good-night, Vjera
+dear--I must be quick." He tried to leave her, but she held him fast.
+
+"I will get you the money at once," she said desperately and without the
+least hesitation. He started, in the utmost astonishment, staring at her
+as though he fancied that she had lost her senses.
+
+"You! Why, Vjera, how can you imagine that I would take it from you, or
+how do you think it would be possible for you to find it? You are mad, my
+dear child, quite mad!"
+
+In spite of everything, the tears broke from her eyes at the words which
+meant so much to her and which seemed to mean so little to him. But she
+brushed them bravely away.
+
+"You say you love me--you know that I love you. Do you trust me? Do you
+believe in me? And if you do, why then believe that I will do what I say.
+And as for taking the fifty marks from me--will not your friends be here
+to-night, as you say, and will you not be able to give it all back very
+soon? Only wait here--or no, go into the shop and talk to Fischelowitz--I
+will bring it to you in less than an hour, I promise you that I will--"
+
+"But how? Oh, Vjera--I am in such trouble that I could almost bring myself
+to borrow it of you if you could lend it--I despise myself, but it is
+growing so late, and it will only be until to-morrow, only for a few hours
+perhaps. If you will wait to-night I may bring it to you before bedtime.
+But--are you sure, Vjera? Have you really got it? If I should wait
+here--and you should not find it--and my word should be broken--"
+
+"For your word I give you mine. You shall have it in an hour." She tried
+to throw so much certainty into her tone as might persuade him, and she
+succeeded. "Where will you wait for me? In the shop?" she asked.
+
+"No--not there. In the Café here--I am tired--I will sit down and drink a
+cup of coffee. I think I have a little money--enough for that." He smiled
+faintly as he felt in his pockets. Then his face fell. On the previous
+evening, when they had led him away from the eating-house, he had
+carelessly given all he had--a mark and two pennies--to pay for his
+supper, throwing it to the fat hostess without any reckoning, as he went
+out. "Never mind," he said, after the fruitless search. "I will wait
+outside."
+
+But Vjera thrust a silver piece into his hand and was gone before he could
+protest. And in this way she took upon herself the burden of the Count's
+debt of honour.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Vjera turned her head when she had reached the corner of the street, and
+saw that the Count had disappeared. He had entered the Café, and had
+evidently accepted her assurance that she would bring the money without
+delay. So far, at least, she had been successful. Though by far the most
+difficult portion of the enterprise lay before her, she was convinced that
+if she could really produce the fifty marks, the approaching catastrophe
+of total madness would be averted. Her determination was still so strong
+that she never doubted the possibility of performing her promise. Without
+hesitation, she returned to the shop, in search of Johann Schmidt, to
+whose energies and kindness she instinctively turned for counsel and help.
+As she came to the door she saw that he was just bidding good-night to his
+employer. She waited a moment and met him on the pavement as he came out.
+
+"I must have fifty marks in an hour, Herr Schmidt," she said, boldly. "If
+I do not get it, something dreadful will happen."
+
+"Fifty marks!" exclaimed the Cossack in a tone of amazement. If she had
+said fifty millions, the shock to his financial sense could not have been
+more severe. "It is an enormous sum," he said, slowly, while she fixed her
+eyes upon him, waiting for his answer. "What is the matter, Vjera? Have
+you not been able to pay your rent this year, and has old Homolka
+threatened to turn you out?"
+
+"Oh no! It is worse than that, far worse than that! If it were only
+myself--" she hesitated.
+
+"What is it? Who is it? Perhaps it is not so serious as you think. Tell me
+all about it."
+
+"There is very little time--only an hour. He is going mad--really mad,
+Herr Schmidt, because he has given his word of honour to pay Herr
+Fischelowitz that money this evening. I only calmed him, by promising to
+bring the money at once."
+
+"You promised that?" exclaimed Schmidt. "It was a very wild promise--"
+
+"I will keep it, and you must help me. We have an hour. If we do not
+succeed he will never be himself again."
+
+"But fifty marks!" Schmidt could not recover from his astonishment. "Oh,
+Vjera!" he exclaimed at last, in the simplicity of his heart, "how you
+must love him!"
+
+"I would do more than that--if I could," she answered. "But come, you will
+help me, will you not? I have a ten-mark piece and an old thaler put away
+at home. That makes thirteen, and two I have in my pocket, fifteen and--I
+am afraid that is all," she concluded after a slight hesitation.
+
+"And five are twenty," said the Cossack, producing the six which he had,
+and taking one silver piece out of the number to be returned to his
+pocket. The children must not starve on the morrow.
+
+"Oh, thank you, Herr Schmidt!" cried poor Vjera in a joyful voice as she
+eagerly took the proffered coins. "Twenty already! Why, twenty-five will
+be half, will it not? And I am sure that we can find the rest, then."
+
+"There is Dumnoff," said Schmidt. "He probably has something, too."
+
+"But I could not borrow of him--besides, if he knew it was for the
+Count--and he is so rough--he would not give it to us."
+
+"We shall see," answered the other, who knew his man. "Wait a moment. He
+is still inside."
+
+He re-entered the shop, where Fischelowitz and his wife were conversing
+under the gaslight.
+
+"I tell you," Akulina was saying, "that it is high time you got rid of
+him. The new workman from Vilna will take his place, and it is positively
+ridiculous to be made to submit to this madman's humours, and
+impertinence. What sort of a man are you, Christian Gregorovitch, to let
+the fellow carry off your Gigerl, with his airy promise to pay you the
+money to-day?"
+
+"The Gigerl was broken," observed the tobacconist.
+
+"Oh, it could have been mended; and if it was really stolen, was that our
+business, I would like to know? Nobody would ever have supposed, seeing it
+in our window, that it had been stolen. And it could have been mended, as
+I say, and might have been worth something after all. You never really
+tried to sell it, as you ought to have done from the very first. And now
+you have got nothing at all, nothing but that insolent maniac's promise.
+If I were you I would take the money out of his wages, I would indeed!"
+
+"No doubt you would," said Fischelowitz, with sincere conviction.
+
+Meanwhile Schmidt had gone into the back shop, where Dumnoff was still
+doggedly working, making up for the time he had lost by coming late in the
+morning. He was alone at his little table.
+
+"How much money have you got?" asked the Cossack, briefly. Dumnoff looked
+up rather stupidly, dropped the cigarette he was making, and felt in his
+pocket for his change. He produced five marks, an unusual sum for him to
+have in his possession, and which would not have found itself in his hands
+had not his arrest on the previous evening prevented his spending
+considerably more than he had spent in his favourite corn-brandy.
+
+"I want it all," said Schmidt.
+
+"You are a cool-blooded fellow," laughed Dumnoff, making as though he
+would return the coins to his pocket.
+
+"Look here, Dumnoff," answered the Cossack, his bright eyes gleaming. "I
+want that money. You know me, and you had better give it to me without
+making any trouble."
+
+Dumnoff seemed confused by the sharpness of the demand, and hesitated.
+
+"You seem in a great hurry," he said, with an awkward laugh, "I suppose
+you mean to give it back to me?"
+
+"You shall have it at the rate of a mark a day in the next five work days.
+You will get your pay this evening and that will be quite enough for you
+to get drunk with to-night."
+
+"That is true," said Dumnoff, thoughtfully. "Well, take it," he added,
+slipping the money into the other's outstretched palm.
+
+"Thank you," said the Cossack. "You are not so bad as you look, Dumnoff.
+Good-night." He was gone in a moment.
+
+Dumnoff stared at the door through which he had disappeared.
+
+"After all," he muttered, discontentedly, "he could not have taken it by
+force. I wonder why I was such a fool as to give it to him!"
+
+"I tell you," said Akulina to her husband as Schmidt passed through the
+outer shop, "that he will end by costing us so much in money lent, and
+squandered in charity, that the business will go to dust and feathers! I
+am only a weak woman, Christian Gregorovitch, but I have four children--"
+
+The Cossack heard no more, for he closed the street door behind him and
+returned to Vjera's side. She was standing as he had left her, absorbed in
+the contemplation of the financial crisis.
+
+"Five more," said he, giving her the silver. "That is one half. Now for
+the other. But are you quite sure, Vjera, that it is as bad as you think?
+I know that Fischelowitz does not in the least expect the money."
+
+"No--I daresay not. But I know this, if I had not met him just now and
+promised to bring him the fifty marks, he would have been raving mad
+before morning." Schmidt saw by her look that she was convinced of the
+fact.
+
+"Very well," he said. "I am not going to turn back now. The poor Count has
+done me many a good turn in his time, and I will do my best, though I do
+not exactly see what more I can do, at such short notice."
+
+"Have you got anything worth pawning, Herr Schmidt?" asked Vjera,
+ruthless, as devoted people can be when the object of their devotion is in
+danger.
+
+"Well--I have not much that I can spare. There is the bed--but my wife
+cannot sleep on the floor, though I would myself. And there are a few pots
+and pans in the kitchen--not worth much, and I do not know what we should
+do without them. I do not know, I am sure. I cannot take the children's
+things, Vjera, even for you."
+
+"No," said Vjera doubtfully. "I suppose not. Of course not!" she
+exclaimed, immediately afterwards, with an attempt to express conviction.
+
+"There is one thing--there is the old samovar," continued the Cossack. "It
+has a leak in one side, and we make the tea as we can, when we have any.
+But I remember that I once pawned it, years ago, for five marks."
+
+"That would make thirty," said Vjera promptly.
+
+"I do not believe they would lend so much on it now, though it is good
+metal. It is a little battered, besides being leaky."
+
+"Let us get it," said Vjera, beginning to walk briskly on. "I have
+something, too, though I do not know what it is worth. It is an old skin
+of a wolf--my father killed it inside the village, just before we came
+away."
+
+"A wolf skin!" exclaimed Schmidt. "That may be worth something, if it is
+good."
+
+"I am afraid it is not very good," answered Vjera doubtfully. "The hair
+comes out. I think it must have been a mangy wolf. And there is a bad hole
+on one side."
+
+"It was probably badly cured," said the Cossack, who understood furs. "But
+I can mend the hole in five minutes, so that nobody will see it."
+
+"We will get it, too. But I am afraid that it will not be nearly enough to
+make up the twenty-five marks. They could not possibly give us twenty
+marks for the skin, could they?"
+
+"No, indeed, unless you could sell it to some one who does not understand
+those things. And the samovar will not bring five, as I said. We must find
+something else."
+
+"Let us get the samovar first," said Vjera decisively. "I will wait
+downstairs till you get it, and then you will wait for me where I live,
+and after that we will go together. I may find something else. Indeed, I
+must, or we shall not have enough."
+
+They walked rapidly through the deepening shadows towards Schmidt's home.
+Vjera moved, as people do, who are possessed by an idea which must be put
+into immediate execution, her head high, her eyes full of light, her lips
+set, her step firm. Her companion was surprised to find that he needed to
+walk fast in order to keep by her side. He looked at her often, as he had
+looked all day, with an expression that showed at once much interest,
+considerable admiration and some pity. If he had not been lately brought
+to some new opinion concerning the girl he would certainly not have
+entered into her wild scheme for calming the Count's excitement without at
+least arguing the case lengthily, and discussing all the difficulties
+which presented themselves to his imagination. As it was, he felt himself
+carried away by a sort of enthusiasm in her cause, which would have led
+him to make even greater sacrifices than he had it in his power to offer.
+So strong was this feeling that he felt called upon to make a sort of
+apology.
+
+"I am sorry I cannot do more to help you," he said regretfully. "It is
+very little I know, but then, you see I am not alone in the world, Vjera.
+There are others to be thought of. And besides, I have just paid the rent,
+and there are no savings left."
+
+"Dear Herr Schmidt," answered Vjera gratefully, "you are doing too much
+already--but I cannot help taking all you give me, though I can thank you
+for it with all my heart."
+
+They did not speak again during the next few minutes, until they reached
+the door of the house in which the Cossack lived.
+
+"I shall only need a moment," he said, as he dived into the dark entrance.
+
+He lost so little time, that it seemed to Vjera as though the echo of his
+steps had not died away upon the stairs before she heard his footfall
+again as he descended. This time, however, there was a rattle and clatter
+of metal to be heard as well as his quick tread and the loud creaking of
+his coarse, stiff shoes. He emerged into the street with the body of the
+samovar under one arm. The movable brass chimney of the machine was
+sticking out of one of his pockets, and in his left hand he had its little
+tray, with the rings and other pieces belonging to the whole. Amongst
+those latter objects, which he grasped tightly in his fingers, there
+figured also the fragment of a small spoon of which the bowl had been
+broken from the handle.
+
+"It is silver," he said, referring to the latter utensil, as he held up
+the whole handful before Vjera's eyes. "But if we can find a jeweller's
+shop open, we will sell it. We can get more for it in that way. And now
+your wolf's skin, Vjera. And be sure to bring me a needle and some strong
+thread when you come down. I can mend the hole by the gaslight in the
+street, for Homolka would not understand it if he saw me going to your
+room, you know."
+
+She helped him to put all the smaller things into his pockets, so that he
+had only the samovar itself, and its metal tray to carry in his hands, and
+then they went briskly on towards Vjera's lodging.
+
+"Do you think we shall get three marks for the little spoon?" she asked,
+constantly preoccupied by her calculations.
+
+"Oh yes," Schmidt answered cheerfully. "We may get five. It is good
+silver, and they buy silver by weight."
+
+A few moments later she stood still before a narrow shop which was lighted
+within, though there was no lamp in the windows. It was that of a small
+watchmaker and jeweller, and a few silver watches and some cheap chains
+and trinkets were visible behind the glass pane.
+
+"Perhaps he may buy the spoon," suggested Vjera, anxious to lose no time.
+
+Without a word Schmidt entered the shop, while the girl stood outside. In
+less than five minutes he came out again with something in his hand.
+
+"Three and a half," he said, handing her the money.
+
+"I had hoped it would be worth more," she answered, putting the coins with
+the rest.
+
+"No. He weighed it with silver marks. It weighed just four of them, and he
+said he must have half a mark to make it worth his while."
+
+"Very well," said Vjera, "it is always something. I have twenty-eight and
+a half now."
+
+When they reached her lodging Schmidt set down the samovar upon the
+pavement and made himself a cigarette, while he waited for her. She was
+gone a long time, as it seemed to him, and he was beginning to wonder
+whether anything had happened, when she suddenly made her appearance,
+noiseless in her walk, as always. The old wolf's skin was hung over one
+shoulder, and she carried besides a limp-looking brown paper parcel, tied
+with a bit of folded ribband. As he caught sight of her face in the light
+of the street lamp, Schmidt fancied that she was paler than before, and
+that her cheek was wet.
+
+"I am sorry I was so long," she said. "The little sister cried because I
+would not stay, and I had to quiet her. Here is the skin. Do you see? I am
+afraid this is a very big hole--and the hair comes out in handfuls. Look
+at it."
+
+"It was a very old wolf," remarked the Cossack, holding the skin up under
+the gaslight.
+
+"Does that make it worth less?" asked Vjera anxiously.
+
+"Not of itself; on the contrary. And I can mend the hole, if you have the
+thread and needle. The worst thing about it all is the way the hairs fall
+out. I am afraid the moths have been at it, Vjera." He shook his head
+gravely. "I am afraid the moths have done a great deal of damage."
+
+"Oh, if I had only known--I would have been so careful! And to think that
+it might have been worth something."
+
+"It is worth something as it is, but at the pawnbroker's they will not
+lend much on it." He took the threaded needle, which she had not
+forgotten, and sitting down upon the edge of the pavement spread the skin
+upon his knees with the fur downwards. Then he quickly began to draw the
+hole together, sewing it firmly with the furrier's cross stitch, and so
+neatly that the seam looked like a single straight line on the side of the
+leather, while it was quite invisible in the fur on the other.
+
+"What is the other thing you have brought?" he inquired without looking up
+from his work. The light was bad, and he had to bend his eyes close to the
+sewing.
+
+"It is something I may be able to sell," said Vjera in a rather unsteady
+voice.
+
+"Silver?" asked Schmidt, cheerfully.
+
+"Oh no--not silver--something dearer," she said, almost under her breath.
+"I am afraid it is very hard for you to see," she added quickly,
+attempting to avoid his questions. "Do you not think that I could hold a
+match for you, to make a little more light? You always have some with
+you."
+
+"Wait a moment--yes--I have almost finished the seam--here is the box.
+Now, if you can hold the match just there, just over the needle, and keep
+it from going out, I can finish the end off neatly."
+
+Vjera knelt down beside him and held the flickering bit of wood as well as
+she was able. They made a strange picture, out in the unfrequented street,
+the dim glare of the gaslight above them, and the redder flame of the
+match making odd tints and shadows in their faces. Vjera's shawl had
+slipped back from her head and her thick tress of red-brown hair had found
+its way over her shoulder. An artist, strolling supperwards from his
+studio, came down their side of the way. He stopped and looked at them.
+
+"Has anything happened?" he asked kindly. "Can I be of any use?"
+
+Vjera looked up with a frightened glance. The Cossack paid no attention to
+the stranger.
+
+"Oh no, thank you--thank you, sir, it is nothing--only a little piece of
+work to finish."
+
+The artist gave one more look and passed on, wishing that he could have
+had pencil and paper and light at his command for five minutes.
+
+"There," said Schmidt triumphantly. "It is done, and very well done. And
+now for the pawn-shop, Vjera!"
+
+Vjera took the skin over her arm and her companion picked up the samovar
+with its tray, and they moved on again. Vjera's face was pale and sad, but
+she seemed more confident of success than ever, and her step was elastic
+and hopeful. Johann Schmidt's curiosity was very great, as has been seen
+on previous occasions. He did his best to control it, for some time, only
+trying to guess from the general appearance of the limp parcel what it
+might contain. But his ingenuity failed to solve the problem. At last he
+could bear it no longer. They were entering the street where the
+pawnbroker's shop was situated when his resolution broke down.
+
+"Is it a piece of lace?" he asked at a venture. "If it is, you know, and
+if it is good, it may be worth all the other things together."
+
+"No. It is not a piece of lace," answered the girl. "I will tell you what
+it is, if we do not get enough without it."
+
+"I only thought," explained the Cossack, "that if we were going to try and
+pawn it, I had better know--"
+
+"We cannot pawn it," said Vjera decisively. "It will have to be sold. Let
+us go in together." She spoke the last words as they reached the door of
+the pawn-shop.
+
+"I could save you the trouble," Schmidt suggested, offering to take the
+wolf's skin. But Vjera would not give it up. She felt that she must see
+everything done herself, if only to distract her thoughts from more
+painful matters.
+
+The place was half full of people, most of them with anxious faces, and
+all having some object or other in their hands. The pawn-shops do their
+best business in the evening. A man and a woman, both advanced in middle
+age, well fed, parsimoniously washed and possessing profiles of an outline
+disquieting to Christian prejudices, leaned over the counter, handled the
+articles offered them, consulted each other in incomprehensible
+monosyllables, talked volubly to the customers in oily undertones and from
+time to time counted out small doses of change which they gave to the
+eager recipients, accompanied by little slips of paper on which there were
+both printed and written words. The room was warm and redolent of poverty.
+A broad flame of gas burned, without a shade, over the middle of the
+counter.
+
+In spite of their unctuous tones the Hebrew and his wife did their
+business rapidly, with sharpness and decision. Either one of them would
+have undertaken to name the precise pawning value of anything on earth
+and, possibly, of most things in heaven, provided that the universe were
+brought piecemeal to their counter. Both Vjera and Schmidt had been made
+acquainted by previous necessities with the establishment. Vjera held her
+paper parcel in her hand. The other things were laid together upon the
+counter. The Hebrew woman glanced at the samovar, felt the weight of it
+and turned it once round.
+
+"Leaky," she observed in her smooth voice. "Old brass. One mark and a
+half." Her husband put out his hand, touched the machine, lifted it, and
+nodded.
+
+"Only a mark and a half!" exclaimed Vjera. "And the skin, how much for
+that?"
+
+"It is a genuine Russian wolf," Schmidt put in. "And it is very large."
+
+"Moth-eaten," said the Jewess. "And there is a hole in the side. Five
+marks."
+
+Schmidt held the fur up to the light and blew into it with a professional
+air, as furriers do.
+
+"Look at that!" he cried, persuasively. "Why, it is worth twenty!"
+
+The Hebrew lady, instead of answering extended a fat thumb and a plump,
+pointed forefinger, and pinching a score of hairs between the two, pulled
+them out without effort, and then held them close to the Cossack's eyes.
+
+"Five marks," she repeated, getting the money out and preparing to fill in
+a couple of pawn-tickets.
+
+"Make it ten, with the samovar!" entreated Vjera. The Jewess smiled.
+
+"Do you think the samovar is of gold?" she inquired. "Six and a half for
+the two. Take it or leave it."
+
+Vjera looked at Schmidt anxiously as though to ask his opinion.
+
+"They will not give more," he said, in Russian.
+
+The girl took the money and the flimsy tickets and they went out into the
+street. Vjera hesitated as to the direction she should take, and Schmidt
+looked to her as though awaiting her orders.
+
+"Twenty-eight and a half and six and a half are thirty-five," she said,
+thoughtfully. "And we have nothing more to give, but this. I must sell it,
+Herr Schmidt."
+
+"Well, what is it?" he asked, glad to know the secret at last.
+
+"It is my mother's hair. She cut it off herself when she knew she was
+dying and she told me to sell it if ever I needed a little money."
+
+The girl's voice trembled violently, and she turned her head away. Schmidt
+was silent and very grave. Then Vjera began to move on again, clutching
+the precious thing to her bosom and drawing her shawl over it.
+
+"The best man for this lives in the Maffei Strasse," said Schmidt after a
+few minutes.
+
+"Show me the way." Vjera turned as he directed. At that moment she would
+have lost herself in the familiar streets, had he not been there to guide
+her.
+
+The hairdresser's shop was brilliantly lighted, and as good fortune would
+have it, there were no customers within. With an entreating glance which
+he obeyed, Vjera made Schmidt wait outside.
+
+"Please do not look!" she whispered. "I can bear it better alone." The
+good fellow nodded and began to walk up and down.
+
+As Vjera entered the shop, the chief barber in command waltzed forward, as
+hairdressers always seem to waltz. At the sight of the poor girl, however,
+he assumed a stern appearance which, to tell the truth, was out of
+character with his style of beauty. His rich brown locks were curled and
+anointed in a way that might have aroused envy in the heart of an Assyrian
+dandy in the palmy days of Sardanapalus.
+
+"Do you buy hair?" asked Vjera, timidly offering her limp parcel.
+
+"Oh, certainly, sometimes," answered the barber. The youth in
+attendance--the barber tadpole of the hairdresser frog--abandoned the
+cleansing of a comb and came forward with a leer, in the hope that Vjera
+might turn out to be pretty on a closer inspection. In this he was
+disappointed.
+
+The man took the parcel and laid it on one of the narrow marble tables
+placed before a mirror in a richly gilt frame. He pushed aside the blue
+glass powder-box, the vial of brilliantine and the brushes. Vjera untied
+the bit of faded ribband herself and opened the package. The contents
+exhaled a faint, sickly odour.
+
+A tress of beautiful hair, of unusual length and thickness, lay in the
+paper. The colour was that which is now so much sought after, and which
+great ladies endeavour to produce upon their own hair, when they have any,
+by washing it with extra-dry champagne, while little ladies imitate them
+with a humble solution of soda. The colour in question is a reddish-brown
+with rich golden lights in it, and it is very rare in nature.
+
+The barber eyed the thick plait with a businesslike expression.
+
+"The colour is not so bad," he remarked, as though suggesting that it
+might have been very much better.
+
+"Surely, it is very beautiful hair!" said Vjera, her heart almost breaking
+at the sight of the tenderly treasured heirloom.
+
+Suddenly the man snuffed the odour, lifted the tress to his nose, and
+smelt it. Then he laid it down again and took the thicker end, which was
+tied tightly with a ribband, in his hands, pulling at the short lengths of
+hair which projected beyond the knot. They broke very easily, with an odd,
+soft snap.
+
+"It is worth nothing at all," said the barber decisively. "It is a pity,
+for it is a very pretty colour."
+
+Vjera started, and steadied herself against the back of the professional
+chair which stood by the table.
+
+"Nothing?" she repeated, half stupid with the pain of her disappointment.
+"Nothing? not even fifteen marks?"
+
+"Nothing. It is rotten, and could not be worked. The hairs break like
+glass."
+
+Vjera pressed her left hand to her side as though something hurt her. The
+tadpole youth grinned idiotically and the barber seemed anxious to end the
+interview.
+
+With a look of broken-hearted despair the girl turned to the table and
+began to do up her parcel again. Her shawl fell to the ground as she
+moved. Then the tadpole nudged his employer and pointed at Vjera's long,
+red-brown braid, and grinned again from ear to ear.
+
+"Is it fifteen marks that you want?" asked the man.
+
+"Fifteen--yes--I must have fifteen," repeated Vjera in dull tones.
+
+"I will give it to you for your own hair," said the barber with a short
+laugh.
+
+"For my own?" cried Vjera, suddenly turning round. It had never occurred
+to her that her own tress could be worth anything. "For my own?" she
+repeated as though not believing her ears.
+
+"Yes--let me see," said the man. "Turn your head again, please. Let me
+see. Yes, yes, it is good hair of the kind, though it has not the gold
+lights in it that the other had. But, to oblige you, I will give you
+fifteen for it."
+
+"But I must have the money now," said Vjera, suspiciously. "You must give
+me the money now, to take with me. I cannot wait."
+
+The barber smiled, and produced a gold piece and five silver ones.
+
+"You may hold the money in your hand," he said, offering it to her, "while
+you sit down and I do the work."
+
+Vjera clutched the coins fiercely and placed herself in the big chair
+before the mirror. She could see in the glass that her eyes were on fire.
+The barber loosened a screw in the back of the seat and removed the block
+with the cushion, handing it to his assistant.
+
+"The scissors, and a comb, Anton," he said briskly, lifting at the same
+time the heavy tress and judging its weight. The reflection of the steel
+flashed in the mirror, as the artist quickly opened and shut the scissors,
+with that peculiar shuffling jingle which only barbers can produce.
+
+"Wait a minute!" cried Vjera, with sudden anxiety, and turning her head as
+though to draw away her hair from his grasp. "One minute--please--fifteen
+and thirty-five are really fifty, are they not?"
+
+The tadpole began to count on his fingers, whispering audibly.
+
+"Yes," answered the barber. "Fifteen and thirty-five are fifty."
+
+The tadpole desisted, having already got into mathematical difficulties in
+counting from one hand over to the other.
+
+"Then cut it off quickly, please!" said poor Vjera, settling herself in
+the chair again, and giving her head to the shears.
+
+In the silence that followed, only the soft jingle of the scissors was
+heard.
+
+"There!" exclaimed the hairdresser, holding up a hand-mirror behind her.
+"I have been generous, you see. I have not cut it very short. See for
+yourself."
+
+"Thank you," said Vjera. "You are very kind." She saw nothing, indeed, but
+she was satisfied, and rose quickly.
+
+She tied up the limp parcel with the same old piece of faded ribband, and
+a little colour suddenly came into her face as she pressed it to her
+bosom. All at once, she lost control of herself, and with a sharp sob the
+tears gushed out. She stooped a little and drew her shawl over her head to
+hide her face. The tears wet her hands and the brown paper, and fell down
+to the greasy marble floor of the shop.
+
+"It will grow again very soon," said the barber, not unkindly. He
+supposed, naturally enough, that she was weeping over her sacrifice.
+
+"Oh no! It is not that!" she cried. "I am so--so happy to have kept this!"
+Then, without another word, she slipped noiselessly out into the street,
+clasping the precious relic to her breast.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+"I have got it--I have got it all!" cried Vjera, as she came up with
+Schmidt on the pavement. His quick eye caught sight of the parcel, only
+half hidden by her shawl.
+
+"But you have brought the hair away with you," he said, in some anxiety,
+and fearing a mistake or some new trouble.
+
+"Yes," she answered. "That is the best of it." Her tears had disappeared
+as suddenly as they had come, and she could now hardly restrain the
+nervous laughter that rose to her lips.
+
+"But how is that?" asked Schmidt, stopping.
+
+"I gave them my own," she laughed, hysterically. "I gave them my
+own--instead. Quick, quick--there is no time to lose. Is it an hour yet,
+since I left him?" She ran along, and Schmidt found it hard to keep beside
+her without running, too. At last he broke into a sort of jog-trot. In
+five minutes they were at the door of the café.
+
+The Count was sitting at a small table near the door, an empty coffee-cup
+before him, staring with a fixed look at the opposite wall. There were few
+people in the place, as the performances at the theatres had already
+begun. Vjera entered alone.
+
+"I have brought you the money," she said, joyfully, as she stood beside
+him and laid a hand upon his arm to attract his attention, for he had not
+noticed her coming.
+
+"The money?" he said, excitedly. "The fifty marks? You have got it?"
+
+She sat down at the table, and began to count the gold and silver,
+producing it from her pocket in instalments of four or five coins, and
+making little heaps of them before him.
+
+"It is all there--every penny of it," she said, counting the piles again.
+
+The poor man's eyes seemed starting from his head, as he leaned eagerly
+forward over the money.
+
+"Is it real? Is it true?" he asked in a low voice. "Oh, Vjera, do not
+laugh at me--is it really true, child?"
+
+"Really true--fifty marks." Her pale face beamed with pleasure. "And now
+you can go and pay Fischelowitz at once," she added.
+
+But he leaned back a moment in his chair, looking at her intently. Then
+his eyes grew moist, and, when he spoke, his voice quivered.
+
+"May God forgive me for taking it of you," he said. "You have saved me,
+Vjera--saved my honour, my life--all. God bless you, dear, God bless you!
+I am very, very thankful."
+
+He put the coins carefully together and wrapped them in his silk
+handkerchief, and rose from his seat. He had already paid for his cup of
+coffee. They went out together. The Cossack had disappeared.
+
+"You have saved my life and my honour--my honour and my life," repeated
+the Count, softly and dwelling on the words in a dreamy way.
+
+"I will wait outside," said Vjera as they reached the tobacconist's shop,
+a few seconds later.
+
+The Count turned to her and laid both hands upon her shoulders, looking
+into her face.
+
+"You cannot understand what you have done for me," he said earnestly.
+
+He stooped, for he was much taller than she, and closing his tired eyes
+for a moment, he pressed his lips upon her waxen forehead. Before he had
+seen the bright blush that glowed in her cheeks, he had entered the shop.
+
+Akulina was seated in one corner, apparently in a bad humour, for her dark
+face was flushed, and her small eyes looked up savagely at the Count. Her
+husband was leaning over the counter, smoking and making a series of
+impressions in violet ink upon the back of an old letter, with an
+india-rubber stamp in which the word "Celebrated Manufactory" held a
+prominent place. He nodded familiarly.
+
+"Herr Fischelowitz," said the Count, regaining suddenly his dignity of
+manner and bearing, "in the course of the conversation last evening, I
+said that I would to-day refund the fifty marks which you once lent to
+that atrocious young man who wore green glasses. I daresay you remember
+the circumstance?"
+
+"I had quite forgotten it," said Fischelowitz. "Please do not allow it to
+trouble you, my dear Count. I never considered you responsible for it, and
+of course you cannot--"
+
+"It is a shame!" Akulina broke in, angrily. "You ought to make him pay it
+out of what he earns, since he took the Gigerl!"
+
+"Madam," said the Count, addressing her with great civility, "if it is
+agreeable to you, we will not discuss the matter. I only reminded Herr
+Fischelowitz of what took place because--"
+
+"Because you have no money--of course!" interrupted Akulina.
+
+"On the contrary, because I have brought the money, and shall be obliged
+to you if you will count it."
+
+Akulina's jaw dropped, and Fischelowitz looked up in amazement. The Count
+produced his knotted handkerchief and laid it on the table.
+
+"I only wish you to understand," he said, speaking to Akulina, "that when
+a gentleman gives his word he keeps it. Will you do me the favour to count
+the money?"
+
+"Of course, it is no business of ours to find out how he got it," observed
+Akulina, rising and coming forward.
+
+"None whatever, madam," answered the Count, spreading out the coins which
+had been collected by loving hands from so many sources. "The only
+question is, to ascertain whether there are fifty marks here or not."
+
+Fischelowitz stood looking on. He had not yet recovered from his surprise,
+and was half afraid that there might be something wrong. But the practical
+Akulina lost no time in assuring herself that the sum was complete. As she
+realised this fact, her features relaxed into a pleasant smile.
+
+"Well, Count," she said, "we are very much obliged to you for this. It is
+very honest of you, for of course, you were not exactly called upon--"
+
+"I understood you to say that I was," replied the Count, gravely.
+
+"Oh, that was yesterday, and I am very sorry if I annoyed you. But let
+bygones be bygones! I hope there is no ill-will between us?"
+
+"Oh, none at all," returned the other indifferently. "I have the honour to
+wish you a very good evening." Without waiting for more, the Count bowed
+and left the shop.
+
+"Akulina," said Fischelowitz, thoughtfully, as the door closed, "that man
+is a gentleman, say what you please."
+
+"A pretty gentleman," laughed Akulina, putting the money into the till. "A
+gentleman indeed--why, look at his coat!"
+
+"And you are a fool, Akulina," added Fischelowitz, handling his
+india-rubber stamp.
+
+"Thank you; but for my foolery you would be fifty marks poorer to-night,
+Christian Gregorovitch. A gentleman, pah!"
+
+The Count had drawn Vjera's willing arm through his, and they were walking
+slowly away together.
+
+"I must be going home," she said, reluctantly. "The little sister will be
+crying for me. I cannot leave her any longer."
+
+"Not till I have thanked you, dear," he answered, pressing her arm to his
+side. "But I will go with you to your door, and thank you all the
+way--though the way is far too short for all I have to say."
+
+"I have done nothing--it has really cost me nothing." Vjera squeezed her
+limp parcel under her shawl, and felt that she was speaking the truth.
+
+"I cannot believe that, Vjera," said the Count. "You could not have found
+so much money so quickly, without making some great sacrifice. But I will
+give it back to you--"
+
+"Oh no--no," she cried, earnestly. "Make no promises to me. Think what
+this promise has cost you. When you have the money, you may give it back
+if you choose--but it would make me so unhappy if you promised."
+
+"Would it, child? And yet, my friends are waiting for me, and they have
+money for me, too. Then, I will only say that I will give it back to you
+as soon as possible. Is that right?"
+
+"Yes--and nothing more than that. And as for thanking me--what have I done
+that needs thanks? Would you not have done as much for me if--if, for
+instance, I had been ill, and could not pay the rent of the room? And
+then--think of the happiness I have had!"
+
+The words were spoken so simply and it was so clear that they were true,
+that the Count found it hard to answer. Not because he had nothing to
+express, but because the words for the expression could not be found.
+Again he pressed her arm.
+
+"Vjera," he said, when they had walked some distance farther, "it is of no
+use to speak of this. There is that between you and me which makes speech
+contemptible and words ridiculous. There is only one thing that I can do,
+Vjera dearest. I can love you, dear, with all my heart. Will you take my
+love for thanks--and my devotion for gratitude? Will you, dear? Will you
+remember what you promised and what I promised last night? As soon as all
+is right, to-morrow, will you be my wife?"
+
+"If it could ever be!" sighed the poor girl, recalled suddenly to the
+remembrance of his pitiful infirmity.
+
+"It can be, it shall be and it will be," he answered in tones of
+conviction. "They are waiting for me now, Vjera, in my little room--but
+they may wait, for I will not lose a moment of your dear company for them
+all. They are waiting for me with the money and the papers and the orders.
+I have waited long for them, they can afford to have a little patience
+now. And to-morrow, at this time, we shall be together, Vjera, in the
+train--I will have a special carriage for you and me, and then, a night
+and a day and another night and we shall be at home--for ever. How happy
+we shall be! Will you not be happy with me, darling? Why do you sigh?"
+
+"Did I sigh?" asked Vjera, trying to laugh a little.
+
+He hardly noticed the question, but began to talk again, as he had talked
+on the previous evening, describing all that he meant to do, and all that
+they would do together. Vjera heard and tried not to listen. Her joy was
+all gone. The great, overwhelming pleasure she had felt in dispelling his
+anxiety and in averting what had seemed a near and terrible catastrophe,
+gave place to the old, heartrending pity for him, as he rambled on in his
+delusion. She had hoped that, as it was late on Wednesday evening, the
+time of it was passed and that, for another week, he would talk no more of
+his friends and his money and his return to fortune. But the fixed idea
+was there still, as dominant as ever. Her light tread grew weary and her
+head sank forward as she walked. For one short hour she had felt the glory
+of sacrificing all she had to give, to her love. Are there many who have
+felt as much, with as good reason, in a whole lifetime?
+
+But the hour was gone, taking with it the reality and leaving in its place
+a memory, fair, brilliant, and dear as the tress of golden hair Vjera was
+carrying home in her parcel, but as useless perhaps and as valueless in
+the world of realities as that had proved to be.
+
+They reached her door and stopped in their walk. She looked up sadly into
+his eyes, as she held out her hand. He hesitated a moment, and then threw
+both his arms round her and drew her to his heart and kissed her
+passionately again and again. She tried to draw back.
+
+"Oh no, no!" she cried. "It cannot be so to-morrow--why should you kiss me
+to-day?" But he would not let her go. She loved him, though she knew he
+was mad, and she let her head fall upon his shoulder, and allowed herself
+to believe in love for a moment.
+
+Suddenly she felt that he was startled by something.
+
+"Vjera!" he cried. "Have you cut off your beautiful hair? What have you
+done, child? How could you do it?"
+
+"It was so heavy," she said, looking up with a bright smile. "It made my
+head ache--it is best so."
+
+But he was not satisfied, for he guessed something of the truth, and the
+pain and horror that thrilled him told him that he had guessed rightly.
+
+"You have cut it off--and you have sold it--you have sold your hair for
+me--" he stammered in a broken voice.
+
+She hung her head a little.
+
+"I always meant to cut it off. I did not care for it, you know. And
+besides," she added, suddenly looking up again, "you will not love me
+less, will you? They said it would grow again--you will not love me less?"
+
+"Love you less? Ah, Vjera, that promise I may make at least--never--to the
+end of ends!"
+
+"And yet," she answered, "if it should all be true--if it only should--you
+could not--oh, I should not be worthy of you--you could never marry me."
+
+The Count drew back a step and held out his right hand, with a strangely
+earnest look in his weary eyes. She laid her fingers in his almost
+unconsciously. Then, as though he were in a holy place, he took off his
+hat, and stood bareheaded before her.
+
+"If I forsake you, Vjera," he said very solemnly, "if I forsake you ever,
+in riches or in poverty, in honour or in disrepute, may the God of heaven
+forsake me in the hour of my death."
+
+He swore the great oath deliberately, in a strong, clear voice, and then
+was silent for a moment, his eyes turned upwards, his attitude unchanged.
+Then he raised the poor girl's thin hand to his lips and kissed it, three
+times, reverently, as devout persons kiss the relics of departed saints.
+
+"Good-night, Vjera," he said, quietly. "We shall meet to-morrow."
+
+Vjera was awed by his solemn earnestness, and strongly moved by his
+action.
+
+"Good-night," she answered, lovingly. "Heaven bless you and keep you
+safe." She looked for a last time into his face, as though trying to
+impress upon her mind the memories of that fateful evening, and then she
+withdrew into the house, shutting the street door behind her.
+
+The Count stood still for several minutes, unconsciously holding his hat
+in his hand. At last he covered his head and walked slowly away in the
+direction of his home. By degrees his mind fell into its old groove and he
+hastened his steps. From time to time, he fancied that some one was
+following him at no great distance, but though he glanced quickly over his
+shoulder he saw no one in the dimly-lighted street. The door of the house
+in which he lived was open, and he ran up the stairs at a great pace, sure
+that by this time his friends must be waiting for him in his room. When he
+reached it, all was dark and quiet. The echo of his own footsteps seemed
+still to resound in the staircase as he closed his door and struck a
+match. He found his small lamp in a corner, lighted it with some
+difficulty, set it on the table and sat down. There, beside him, propped
+up against two books, was the piece of paper on which he had written the
+few words for his friends, in case they came while he was out. He took it
+up, looked over it absently and began to fold it upon itself again and
+again.
+
+"Dear Vjera!" he exclaimed, in a low caressing tone, as he smoothed the
+folded strip between his fingers.
+
+He was thinking, and thinking connectedly, of all that had just taken
+place, and wondering how it was that he had been able to accept such a
+sacrifice from one so little able to sacrifice anything. It seemed as
+though it should have been impossible for him to let the poor little
+shell-maker take upon herself his burden, and free him of it and set him
+right again in his own eyes.
+
+"I know that I love her now," he said to himself.
+
+And he was right. There are secret humiliations to which no man would
+submit, as such, but from which love, when it is real, can take away the
+sting and the poison. The man of heart, who does not love but is loved in
+spite of himself, fears to accept a sacrifice, lest in so doing he should
+seem to declare his readiness to do as he is done by, from like motives.
+But when love is on both sides there is no such drawing back from love's
+responsibilities. The sacrifice is accepted not only with gratitude, but
+with joy, as a debt of which the repayment by sacrifice again constitutes
+in itself a happiness. And thus, perhaps, it is that they love best who
+love in sorrow and in want, in worldly poverty and in distress of soul,
+for they alone can know what joy it is to receive, and what yet infinitely
+greater joy lies in giving all when all is sorely needed.
+
+But as the Count dwelt on the circumstances he saw also what it was that
+Vjera had done, and he wondered how she could have found the strength to
+do it. He did not, indeed, say to himself that for his sake she had parted
+with her only beauty, for he had never considered whether she were
+good-looking or not. The bond between them was of a different nature, and
+would not have been less strong had Vjera been absolutely ugly instead of
+being merely, what is called, plain. He would have loved her as well, had
+she been a cripple, or deformed, just as she loved him in spite of his
+madness. But he knew well enough how women, even the most wretched, value
+their hair when it is beautiful, what care they bestow upon it and what
+consolation they derive from the rich, silken coil denied to fairer women
+than themselves. There is something in the thought of cutting off the
+heavy tress and selling it which appeals to the pity of most people, and
+which, to women themselves, is full of horror. A man might have felt the
+same in those days when long locks were the distinctive outward sign of
+nobility in man, and perhaps the respect of that obsolete custom has left
+in the minds of most people a sort of unconscious tradition. However that
+may be, we all feel that in one direction, at least, a woman's sacrifice
+can go no further than in giving her head to the shears.
+
+The longer the Count thought of this, the more his gratitude increased,
+and the more fully he realised at what great cost poor Vjera had saved him
+from what he considered the greatest conceivable dishonour, from the shame
+of breaking his word, no matter under what conditions it had been given.
+He could, of course, repay her the money, so soon as his friends arrived,
+but by no miracle whatever could he restore to her head the only beauty it
+had ever possessed. He had scarcely understood this at first, for he had
+been confused and shaken by the many emotions which had in succession
+played upon his nervous mind and body during the past twenty-four hours.
+But now he saw it all very clearly. He had taken only money, which he
+would be able to restore; she had given a part of herself, irrevocably.
+
+So deeply absorbed was he in his thoughts that the clocks struck many
+successive quarters without rousing him from his reverie, or suggesting
+again to him the fixed idea by which his life was governed on that day of
+the week. But as midnight drew near, the prolonged striking of the bells
+at every quarter at last attracted his attention. He started suddenly and
+rose from his seat, trying to count the strokes, but he had not heard the
+first ones and was astray in his reckoning. It was very late, that was
+certain, and not many minutes could elapse before the door would open and
+his friends would enter. He hastily smoothed his hair, looked to the flame
+of his bright little lamp and made a trip of inspection round the room.
+Everything was in order. He was almost glad that they were to come at
+night, for the lamplight seemed to lend a more cheerful look to the room.
+The Turkey-red cotton counterpane on the bed looked particularly well, the
+Count thought. During the next fifteen minutes he walked about, rubbing
+his hands softly together. At the first stroke of the following quarter he
+stood still and listened intently.
+
+Four quarters struck, and then the big bell began to toll the hour. It
+must be eleven, he thought, as he counted the strokes. Eleven--twelve--he
+started, and turned very white, but listened still, for he knew that he
+should hear another clock striking in a few seconds. As the strokes
+followed each other, his heart beat like a fulling-hammer, giving a
+succession of quick blows, and pausing to repeat the rhythmic tattoo more
+loudly and painfully than before. Ten--eleven--twelve--there was no
+mistake. The day was over. It was midnight, and no one had come. The room
+swam with him.
+
+Then, as in a vision of horror, he saw himself standing there, as he had
+stood many times before, listening for the last stroke, and suddenly
+awaking from the dream to the crushing disappointment of the reality. For
+one brief and terrible moment his whole memory was restored to him and he
+knew that his madness was only madness, and nothing more, and that it
+seized him in the same way, week by week, through the months and the
+years, leaving him thus on the stroke of twelve each Wednesday night, a
+broken, miserable, self-deceived man. As in certain dreams, we dream that
+we have dreamed the same things before, so with him an endless calendar of
+Wednesdays was unrolled before his inner sight, all alike, all ending in
+the same terror of conscious madness.
+
+He had dreamed it all, there was no one to come to him in his distress, no
+one would ever enter that lonely room to bring back to him the treasures
+of a glorious past, for there was no one to come. It had all been a dream
+from beginning to end and there was no reality in it.
+
+He staggered to his chair and sat down, pressing his lean hands to his
+aching temples and rocking himself to and fro, his breath hissing through
+his convulsively closed teeth. Still the fearful memory remained, and it
+grew into a prophetic vision of the future, reflecting what had been upon
+the distant scenery of what was yet to be. With that one deadly stroke of
+the great church bell, all was gone--fortune, friends, wealth, dignity.
+The majestic front of the palace of his hopes was but a flimsy, painted
+tissue. The fire that ran through his tortured brain consumed the gaudy,
+artificial thing in the flash and rush of a single flame, and left behind
+only the charred skeleton framework, which had supported the vast canvas.
+And then, he saw it again and again looming suddenly out of the darkness,
+brightening into beauty and the semblance of strength, to be as suddenly
+destroyed once more. With each frantic beat of his heart the awful
+transformation was renewed. For dreams need not time to spin out their
+intolerable length. With each burning throb of his raging blood, every
+nerve in his body, every aching recess of his brain, was pierced and
+twisted, and pierced again with unceasing agony.
+
+Then a new horror was added to the rest. He saw before him the poor Polish
+girl, her only beauty shorn away for his sake, he saw all that he had
+promised in return, and he knew that he had nothing to give her, nothing,
+absolutely, save the crazy love of a wretched madman. He could not even
+repay her the miserable money which had cost her so dear. Out of his
+dreams of fortune there was not so much as a handful of coin left to give
+the girl who had given all she had, who had sold her hair to save his
+honour. With frightful vividness the truth came over him. That honour of
+his, he had pledged it in the recklessness of his madness. She had saved
+it out of love, and he had not even--but no--there was a new memory
+there--love he had for her, passionate, tender, true, a love that had not
+its place among the terrors of the past. But--was not this a new dream, a
+new delusion of his shaken brain? And if he loved her, was it not yet more
+terrible to have deceived the loved one, more monstrous, more infamous,
+more utterly damnable? The figure of her rose before him, pitiful, thin,
+weak, with outstretched hands and trusting eyes--and he had taken of her
+all she had. Neither heart, nor body, nor brain could bear more.
+
+"Vjera! God! Forgive me!" With the cry of a breaking heart the poor Count
+fell forward from his seat and lay in a heap, motionless upon the floor.
+
+Only his stiffening fingers, crooked and contorted, worked nervously for a
+few minutes, scratching at the rough boards. Then all was quite still in
+the little room.
+
+There was a noise outside, and some one opened the door. The Cossack stood
+upon the threshold, holding his hand up against the lamp, for he was
+dazzled as he entered from the outer darkness of the stairs. He looked
+about, and at first saw nothing, for the Count had fallen in the shadow of
+the table.
+
+Then, seeing where he lay, Johann Schmidt came forward and knelt down, and
+with some difficulty turned his friend upon his back.
+
+"Dead--poor Count!" he exclaimed in a low voice, bending down over the
+ghastly face.
+
+The pale eyes were turned upward and inward, and the forehead was damp.
+Schmidt unbuttoned the threadbare coat from the breast. There was no
+waistcoat under it--nothing but a patched flannel shirt. A quantity of
+papers were folded neatly in a flat package in the inner pocket. Schmidt
+put down his head and listened for the beatings of the heart.
+
+"So it is over!" he said mournfully, as he straightened himself upon his
+knees. Then he took one of the extended hands in his, and pressed it, and
+looked into the poor man's face, and felt the tears coming into his eyes.
+
+"You were a good man," he said in sorrowful tones, "and a brave man in
+your way, and a true gentleman--and--I suppose it was not your fault if
+you were mad. Heaven give you peace and rest!"
+
+He rose to his feet, debating what he should do.
+
+"Poor Vjera!" he sighed. "Poor Vjera--she will go next!"
+
+Once more, he looked down, and his eye caught sight of the papers
+projecting from the inner pocket of the coat, which was still open and
+thrown back upon the floor. It has been noticed more than once that Johann
+Schmidt was a man subject to attacks of quite irresistible curiosity. He
+hesitated a moment, and then came to the conclusion that he was as much
+entitled as any one else to be the Count's executor.
+
+"It cannot harm him now," he said, as he extracted the bundle from its
+place.
+
+One of the letters was quite fresh. The rest were evidently very old,
+being yellow with age and ragged at the edges. He turned over the former.
+It was addressed to Count Skariatine, at his lodging, and it bore the
+postmark of a town in Great-Russia, between Petersburg and Moscow. Schmidt
+took out the sheet, and his face suddenly grew very dark and angry. The
+handwriting was either in reality Akulina's, or it resembled it so closely
+as to have deceived a better expert than the Cossack.
+
+The missive purported to be written by the wife of Count Skariatine's
+steward, and it set forth in rather servile and illiterate language that
+the said Count Skariatine and his eldest son were both dead, having been
+seized on the same day with the smallpox, of which there had been an
+epidemic in the neighbourhood, but which was supposed to have quite
+disappeared when they fell ill. A week later and within twenty-four hours
+of each other they had breathed their last. The Count Boris Michaelovitch
+was now the heir, and would do well to come home as soon as possible to
+look after his possessions, as the local authorities were likely to make a
+good thing out of it in his absence.
+
+The Cossack swore a terrific oath, and stamped furiously on the floor as
+he rose to his feet. It was evident to him that Akulina had out of spite
+concocted the letter, and had managed to have it posted by some friend in
+Russia. He was not satisfied with one expletive, nor with many. The words
+he used need not be translated for the reader of the English language. It
+is enough to say that they were the strongest in the Cossack vocabulary,
+that they were well selected and applied with force and precision.
+
+Johann Schmidt was exceedingly wroth with the tobacconist's wife, for it
+was clear that she had caused the Count's untimely death by her abominable
+practical joke. He went and leaned out of the window, churning and
+gnashing the fantastic expressions of his rage through his teeth.
+
+Suddenly there was a noise in the room, a distinct, loud noise, as of
+shuffling with hands and feet. The Cossack's nerves were proof against
+ghostly terrors, but as he turned round he felt that his hair was standing
+erect upon his head.
+
+The Count was on his feet and was looking at him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+"I thought you were dead!" gasped the Cossack in dismay.
+
+There was no answer. The Count did not appear to hear Schmidt's voice nor
+to see his figure. He acted like a man walking in his sleep, and it was by
+no means certain to the friend who watched him that his eyes were always
+open. As though nothing unusual had happened, the Count calmly undressed
+himself and got into bed. Three minutes later he was sound asleep and
+breathing regularly.
+
+For a long time Johann Schmidt stood transfixed with wonder in his place
+at the open window. At last it dawned upon him that his friend had not
+been really dead, but had fallen into some sort of fit in the course of
+his lonely meditations, from which he had been awakened by the Cossack's
+terrific swearing. Why the latter had seemed to be invisible and inaudible
+to him, was a matter which Schmidt did not attempt to solve. It was clear
+that the Count was alive, and sleeping like other people. Schmidt
+hesitated some time as to what he should do. It was possible that his
+friend might wake again, and find himself desperately ill. He had been so
+evidently unlike himself, that Schmidt had feared he would become a raving
+maniac in the night, and had entered the house at his heels, seating
+himself upon the stairs just outside the door to wait for events, with the
+odd fidelity and forethought characteristic of him. The Count's cry had
+warned him that all was not right and he had entered the room, as has been
+seen.
+
+He determined to wait some time longer, to see whether anything would
+happen. Meanwhile, he thrust Akulina's letter into his pocket, reflecting
+that as it was a forgery it would be best that the Count should not have
+it, lest he should be again misled by the contents. He sat down and
+waited.
+
+Nothing happened. The clocks chimed the quarters up to one in the morning,
+a quarter-past, half-past--Schmidt was growing sleepy. The Count breathed
+regularly and lay in his bed without moving. Then, at last, the Cossack
+rose, looked at his friend once more, blew out the lamp, felt his way to
+the door and left the room. As he walked home through the quiet streets he
+swore that he would take vengeance upon Akulina, by producing the letter
+and reading it in her husband's presence, and before the assembled
+establishment, before the Count made his appearance. It was indeed not
+probable that he would come at all, considering all that he had suffered,
+though Schmidt knew that he generally came on Thursday morning, evidently
+weary and exhausted, but unconscious of the delusion which had possessed
+him during the previous day. Possibly, he was subject to a similar fit
+every Wednesday night, and had kept the fact a secret. Schmidt had always
+wondered what happened to him at the moment when he suddenly forgot his
+imaginary fortune and returned to his everyday senses.
+
+The morning dawned at last, and it was Thursday. As there was no necessity
+for liberating the Count from arrest to-day, Akulina roused her husband
+with the lark, gave him his coffee promptly and sent him off to open the
+shop and catch the early customer. Before the shutters had been up more
+than a quarter of an hour, and while Fischelowitz was still sniffing the
+fresh morning air, Johann Schmidt appeared. His step was brisk, his brow
+was dark and his boots creaked ominously. With a very brief salutation he
+passed into the back shop, slipped off his coat and set to work with the
+determination of a man who feels that he must do something active as a
+momentary relief to his feelings.
+
+Next came Vjera, paler than ever, with great black rings under her tired
+eyes, broken with the fatigues and anxieties of the previous day, but
+determined to double her work, if that were possible, in order to make up
+for the money she had borrowed of Schmidt and, through him, of Dumnoff. As
+she dropped her shawl, Fischelowitz caught sight of the back of her head,
+and broke into a laugh.
+
+"Why, Vjera!" he cried. "What have you done? You have made yourself look
+perfectly ridiculous!"
+
+The poor girl turned scarlet, and busied herself at her table without
+answering. Her fingers trembled as she tried to handle her glass tube. The
+Cossack, whose anger had not been diluted by being left to boil all night,
+dropped his swivel knife and went up to Fischelowitz with a look in his
+face so extremely disagreeable that the tobacconist drew back a little,
+not knowing what to expect.
+
+"I will tell you something," said Schmidt, savagely. "You will have to
+change your manners if you expect any of us to work for you."
+
+"What do you mean?" stammered Fischelowitz, in whom nature had omitted to
+implant the gift of physical courage, except in such measure as saved him
+from the humiliation of being afraid of his wife.
+
+"I mean what I say," answered the Cossack. "And if there is anything I
+hate, it is to repeat what I have said before hitting a man." His fists
+were clenched already, and one of them looked as though it were on the
+point of making a very emphatic gesture. Fischelowitz retired backwards
+into the front shop, while Vjera looked on from within, now pale again and
+badly frightened.
+
+"Herr Schmidt! Herr Schmidt! Please, please be quiet! It does not matter!"
+she cried.
+
+"Then what does matter?" inquired the Cossack over his shoulders, "If
+Vjera has cut off her hair," he said, turning again to Fischelowitz, "she
+has had a good reason for it. It is none of your business, nor mine
+either."
+
+So saying he was about to go back to his work again.
+
+"Upon my word!" exclaimed the tobacconist. "Upon my word! I do not
+understand what has got into the fellow."
+
+"You do not understand?" cried Schmidt, facing him again. "I mean that if
+you laugh at Vjera I will break most of your bones."
+
+At that moment Akulina's stout figure appeared, entering from the street.
+The Cossack stood still, glaring at her, his face growing white and
+contracted with anger. He was becoming dangerous, as good-tempered men
+will, when roused, especially when they have been brought up among people
+who, as a tribe, would rather fight than eat, at any time of day, from
+pure love of the thing. Even Akulina, who was not timid, hesitated as she
+stood on the threshold.
+
+"What has happened?" she inquired, looking from Schmidt to her husband.
+
+The latter came to her side, if not for protection, as might be
+maliciously supposed, at least for company.
+
+"I cannot understand at all," said Fischelowitz, still edging away.
+
+"You understand well enough, I think, and as for you, Frau Fischelowitz, I
+have something to talk of with you, too. But we will put it off until
+later," he added, as though suddenly changing his mind.
+
+The Count himself had appeared in the doorway behind Akulina. Both she and
+her husband stood aside, looking at him curiously.
+
+"Good-morning," he said, gravely taking off his hat and inclining his head
+a little. He acted as though quite unconscious of what had happened on the
+previous day, and they watched him as he quietly went into the room
+beyond, into which the Cossack had retired on seeing him enter.
+
+He hung up his hat in its usual place, nodding to Schmidt, who was
+opposite to him. Then, as he turned, he met Vjera's eyes. It was a supreme
+moment for her, poor child. Would he remember anything of what had passed
+on the previous day? Or had he forgotten all, his debt, her saving of him
+and the sacrifice she had made? He looked at her so long and so steadily
+that she grew frightened. Then all at once he came close to her, and took
+her hand and kissed it as he had done when they had last parted, careless
+of Schmidt's presence.
+
+"I have not forgotten, dear Vjera," he whispered in her ear.
+
+Schmidt passed them quickly and again went out, whether from a sense of
+delicacy, or because he saw an opportunity of renewing the fight outside,
+is not certain. He closed the door of communication behind him.
+
+Vjera looked up into the Count's eyes and the blush that rarely came, the
+blush of true happiness, mounted to her face.
+
+"I have not forgotten, dearest," he said again. "There is a veil over
+yesterday--I think I must have been ill--but I know what you did for me
+and--and--" he hesitated as though seeking an expression.
+
+For a few seconds again the poor girl felt the agony of suspense she knew
+so well.
+
+"I do not know what right a man so poor as I has to say such a thing,
+Vjera," he continued. "But I love you, dear, and if you will take me, I
+will love you all my life, more and more. Will it be harder to be poor
+together than each for ourselves, alone?"
+
+Vjera let her head fall upon his shoulder, happy at last. What did his
+madness matter now, since the one memory she craved had survived its
+destroying influence? He had forgotten his glorious hopes, his imaginary
+wealth, his expected friends, but he had not forgotten her, nor his love
+for her.
+
+"Thank God!" she sighed, and the happy tears fell from her eyes upon the
+breast of his threadbare coat.
+
+"But we must not forget to work, dear," she said, a few moments later.
+
+"No," he answered. "We must not forget to work."
+
+As she sat down to her table he pushed her chair back for her, and put
+into her hands her little glass tube, and then he went and took his own
+place opposite. For a long time they were left alone, but neither of them
+seemed to wonder at it, nor to hear the low, excited tones of many voices
+talking rapidly and often together in the shop outside. Whenever their
+eyes met, they both smiled, while their fingers did the accustomed
+mechanical work.
+
+When Schmidt entered the outer shop for the second time, he found the
+tobacconist and his wife conversing in low tones together, in evident fear
+of being overheard. He came and stood before them, lowering his voice to
+the pitch of theirs, as he spoke.
+
+"It is no fault of yours that the Count was not found dead in his bed this
+morning," he began, fixing his fiery eyes on Akulina.
+
+"What? What? What is this?" asked Fischelowitz excitedly.
+
+"Only this," said the Cossack, displaying the letter he had brought from
+the Count's rooms. "Nothing more. Your wife has succeeded very well. He is
+quite mad now. I found him last night, helpless, in a sort of fit, stiff
+and stark on the floor of his room. And this was in his pocket. Read it,
+Herr Fischelowitz. Read it, by all means. I suppose your wife does not
+mind your reading the letters she writes."
+
+Fischelowitz took the letter stupidly, turned it over, saw the address,
+and took out the folded sheet. Akulina's face expressed a blank amazement
+almost comical in its vacuity. For once, she was taken off her guard. Her
+husband read the letter over twice and examined the handwriting curiously.
+
+"A joke is a joke, Akulina," he said at last. "But you have carried this
+too far. What if the Count had died?"
+
+"I would like to know what I am accused of," said Akulina, "and what all
+this is about."
+
+"I suppose you know your own handwriting," observed the Cossack, taking
+the letter from the tobacconist's hands and holding it before her eyes.
+"And if that is not enough to drive the poor man to the madhouse I do not
+know what is. Perhaps you have forgotten all about it? Perhaps you are
+mad, too?"
+
+Akulina read the writing in her turn. Then she grew very angry.
+
+"It is an abominable lie!" she exclaimed. "I never had anything to do with
+it. I do not know whence this letter comes, and I do not care. I know
+nothing about it."
+
+"I suppose no one can prevent your saying so, at least," retorted the
+Cossack.
+
+"It is very queer," observed Fischelowitz, suddenly thrusting his hands
+into his pockets and beginning to whistle softly as he looked through the
+shop window.
+
+"When I tell you that it is not my handwriting, you ought to be
+satisfied--" Akulina began.
+
+"And yet none of us are," interrupted the Cossack with a laugh. "Strange,
+is it not?"
+
+Dumnoff now came in, and a moment later the insignificant girl, who began
+to giggle foolishly as soon as she saw that something was happening which
+she could not understand.
+
+"None of us are satisfied," continued Johann Schmidt, taking the letter
+from Akulina. "Here, Dumnoff, here Anna Nicolaevna, is this the
+Chosjaika's handwriting or not? Let everybody see and judge."
+
+"It is outrageous!" exclaimed Akulina, trying to get possession of the
+letter again.
+
+"You see how she tries to get it," laughed the Cossack, savagely. "She
+would be glad to tear it to pieces--of course she would."
+
+"I wish you would all go about your business," said Fischelowitz with an
+approach to asperity.
+
+Akulina was furious, but she did not know what to do. Everybody began
+talking together.
+
+"Of course it is the Barina's handwriting," said Dumnoff confidently. He
+supposed it was always safe to follow Schmidt's lead, when he followed any
+one.
+
+"Of course it is," chimed in the insignificant Anna.
+
+"You--you minx--you flatter-cat, you little serpent!" cried Akulina,
+speaking three languages at once in her excitement. "Go--get along--go to
+your work--"
+
+"No, no, stay!" exclaimed the Cossack authoritatively. "Do you know what
+this is?" he asked of all present again. "Our good mistress, here, has for
+some reason or other been trying to make the Count worse by having sham
+letters posted to him from home--"
+
+"It is a lie! A base, abominable lie! Turn the man out, Christian
+Gregorovitch! Turn him out, or send for the police."
+
+"Turn him out yourself," answered the tobacconist phlegmatically.
+
+"Posted to him from home," continued the Cossack, "and telling him that
+his father and brother are dead and that he has come into property and the
+like. What do you think of that?"
+
+"It is a shame," growled Dumnoff, beginning to understand.
+
+The girl laughed foolishly.
+
+"I swear to you," began Akulina, crimson with anger. "I swear to you by
+all--"
+
+"Customers, customers!" exclaimed Fischelowitz in a stage whisper. "Quiet,
+I tell you!" He made a rush for the other side of the counter, and briskly
+assumed his professional smile. The others fell back into the corners.
+
+Two gentlemen in black entered the shop. The one was a stout,
+angry-looking person of middle age, very dark, and very full about the
+lower part of the face, which was not concealed by the closely cut black
+beard. His companion was a diminutive little man, very thin and very
+spruce, not less than fifty years old. His face was entirely shaved and
+was deeply marked with lines and furrows. A pair of piercing grey eyes
+looked through big gold-rimmed spectacles. As he took off his hat, a few
+thin, sandy-coloured locks fluttered a little and then settled themselves
+upon the smooth surface of his cranium, like autumn leaves falling upon a
+marble statue in a garden.
+
+"Herr Fischelowitz?" inquired the larger of the two customers, touching
+his hat but not removing it.
+
+"At your service," answered the tobacconist. "Cigarettes?" he inquired.
+"Strong? Light? Kir, Samson, Dubec?"
+
+"I am the new Russian Consul," said the stranger. "This gentleman is just
+arrived from Petersburg and has business with you."
+
+"My name is Konstantin Grabofsky, and I am a lawyer," observed the little
+man very sharply.
+
+Fischelowitz bowed till his nose almost came into collision with the
+counter. The others in the shop held their peace and opened their eyes.
+
+"And I am told that Count Boris Michaelovitch Skariatine is here,"
+continued the lawyer.
+
+"Oh--the mad Count!" exclaimed Akulina with an angry laugh, and coming
+forward. "Yes, we can tell you all about him."
+
+"I am sorry," said Grabofsky, "to hear you call him mad, since my business
+is with him, Barina, and not with you." His tone was, if possible, more
+incisive than before.
+
+"Of course, we know that he is not a Count at all," said Akulina, somewhat
+annoyed by his sharpness.
+
+"Do you? Then you are singularly mistaken. I shall be obliged if you will
+inform Count Skariatine that Konstantin Grabofsky desires the honour of an
+interview with him."
+
+"Go and call him, Akulina," said Fischelowitz, "since the gentleman wishes
+to see him."
+
+"Go yourself," retorted his wife.
+
+"Go together, and be quick about it!" said the Consul, who was tired of
+waiting.
+
+"And please to say that I wait his convenience," added the lawyer.
+
+Dumnoff moved to Schmidt's side and whispered into his ear.
+
+"Do you think they have come about the Gigerl?" he inquired anxiously. "Do
+you think they will arrest us again?"
+
+"Durak!" laughed the Cossack. "How can two Russian gentlemen arrest you in
+Munich? This is something connected with the Count's friends. It is my
+belief that they have come at last. See--here he is."
+
+The Count now entered from the back shop, calm and collected, as though
+not expecting anything extraordinary. The Russian Consul took off his hat
+and bowed with great politeness and the Count returned the salutation with
+equal civility. Fischelowitz and Akulina stood in the background anxiously
+watching events.
+
+The lawyer also bowed and then, turning his face to the light, held his
+hand out.
+
+"You have not forgotten me, Count Skariatine?" he said, in a tone of
+inquiry.
+
+The Count stared hard at him as he took the proffered hand. Gradually, his
+face underwent a change. His forehead contracted, his eyes closed a
+little, his eyebrows rose, and an expression of quiet disdain settled
+about the lines of his mouth.
+
+"I know you very well," he answered. "You are Doctor Konstantin Grabofsky,
+my father's lawyer. Do you come from him to renew the offer you made when
+we parted?"
+
+"I have no offer to make," said the little man. "Will you do me the honour
+to indicate some place where we may be alone together for a moment?"
+
+"I have no objection to that," replied the Count. "We can go into the
+street."
+
+They passed out together, leaving the establishment of Christian
+Fischelowitz in a condition of great astonishment. The tobacconist hastily
+produced his best cigarettes and entreated the Consul to try one, making
+signs to the other occupants of the shop to return to their occupations in
+the inner room.
+
+"How long have you known Count Skariatine?" inquired the Consul,
+carelessly, when he was alone with Fischelowitz.
+
+"Six or seven years," answered the latter.
+
+"I suppose you know his story? Your wife was good enough to inform us of
+that fact, though Doctor Grabofsky has reason to doubt the value of her
+information."
+
+"We only know that he calls himself a Count." Fischelowitz held the
+authorities of his native country in holy awe, and was almost frightened
+out of his senses at being thus questioned by the Consul.
+
+"He is quite at liberty to do so," answered the latter with a laugh. "The
+story is simple enough," he continued, "and there is no reason why you
+should not know it. The late Count Skariatine had two sons, of whom the
+present Count was the younger. Ten years ago, when barely twenty, he
+quarrelled with his father and elder brother, and they parted in anger. I
+must say that he seems to have acted hastily, though the old gentleman's
+views of life were eccentric, to say the least of it. For some reason or
+other, the elder brother never married. I have heard it said that he was
+crippled in childhood. Be that as it may, he was vindictive and spiteful
+by nature, and prevented the quarrel from being forgotten. The younger
+brother left the house with the clothes on his back, and steadily refused
+to accept the small allowance offered him, and which was his by right. And
+now the father and the eldest son are dead--they died suddenly of the
+smallpox--and Doctor Grabofsky has come to inform the Count that he is the
+heir. There you have the story in a nutshell."
+
+"Then it is all true, after all!" cried Fischelowitz. "We all thought--"
+
+"Thinking, when one knows nothing, is a dangerous and useless pastime,"
+observed the Consul. "I will take a box of these cigarettes with me. They
+are good."
+
+"Thank you most obediently, Milostivy Gosudar!" exclaimed Fischelowitz,
+bowing low. "I trust that the Gospodin Consul will honour me with his
+patronage. I have a great variety of tobaccos, Kir, Basma, Samson, Dubec
+Imperial, Swary--"
+
+While Fischelowitz was recommending the productions of his Celebrated
+Manufactory to the Consul, Grabofsky and the Count were walking together
+up and down the smooth pavement outside.
+
+"A great change has taken place in your family," Grabofsky was saying.
+"Had anything less extraordinary occurred, I should have written to you
+instead of coming in person. Your brother is dead, Count Skariatine."
+
+"Dead!" exclaimed the Count, who had no recollection of the letter
+abstracted from his pocket by the Cossack. It had reached him after the
+weekly attack had begun, and the memory of it was gone with that of so
+many other occurrences.
+
+"Dead," repeated the lawyer sharply, as though he would have made a nail
+of the word to drive it into the coffin.
+
+"And how many children has he left?" inquired the Count.
+
+"He died unmarried."
+
+"So that I--"
+
+"You are the lawful heir."
+
+"Unless my father marries again." The colour rose in the Count's lean
+cheeks.
+
+"That is impossible."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because he is dead, too."
+
+"Then--"
+
+"You are Count Skariatine, and I have the honour to offer you my services
+at this important juncture."
+
+The Count breathed hard. The shock, overtaking him when he was in his
+normal condition, was tremendous. The colour came and went rapidly in his
+features, and he caught his breath, leaning heavily upon the little
+lawyer, who watched his face with some anxiety. Akulina's remark about the
+Count's madness had made him more careful than he would otherwise have
+been in his manner of breaking the news.
+
+"I am not well," said the Count in a low voice. "To-day is Wednesday--I am
+never well on Wednesdays."
+
+"To-day is Thursday," answered Grabofsky.
+
+"Thursday? Thursday--" the Count reeled, and would have fallen, but for
+the support of the nervous little man's wiry arm.
+
+Then, in the space of a second, took place that strange phenomenon of the
+intelligence which is as yet so imperfectly understood. It is called the
+"Transfer" in the jargon of the half-developed science which deals with
+suggestion and the like. Its effects are strange, sudden and complete,
+often observed, never understood, but chronicled in hundreds of cases and
+analysed in every seat of physiological learning in Europe. In the
+twinkling of an eye, a part or the whole of the intelligence, or of the
+sensations, is reversed in action, and this with a logical precision of
+which no description can give any idea. It is universally considered as
+the first step in the direction of recovery.
+
+The action of the Count's mind was "transferred," therefore, since the
+word is consecrated by usage. Fortunately for him, the transfer coincided
+with a material change in his fortunes. Had this not been the case it
+would have had the effect of making him mad through the whole week, and
+sane only from Tuesday evening until the midnight of Wednesday. As it was,
+the result was of a contrary nature. Being now in reality restored to
+wealth and dignity, he was able to understand and appreciate the reality
+during six days, becoming again, in imagination, a cigarette-maker upon
+the seventh, a harmless delusion which already shows signs of
+disappearing, and from which the principal authorities confidently assert
+that he will soon be quite free.
+
+He passed but one moment in a state of semi-consciousness. Then he raised
+his head, and stood erect, and to the great surprise of Grabofsky, showed
+no further surprise at the news he had just received.
+
+"The fact is," he said, quietly, "I was expecting you yesterday. I had
+received a letter from the wife of the steward informing me of the death
+of my father and brother. I think your coming to-day must have disturbed
+me, as I have some difficulty in recalling the circumstances which
+attended our meeting here."
+
+"A passing indisposition," suggested Grabofsky. "Nothing more. The weather
+is warm, sultry in fact."
+
+"Yes, it must have been that. And now, we had better communicate the state
+of things to Herr Fischelowitz, to whom I consider myself much indebted."
+
+"Our Consul came with me," said the lawyer. "He is in the shop. Perhaps
+you did not notice him."
+
+"No--I do not think I did. I am afraid he thought me very careless."
+
+"Not at all, not at all." Grabofsky began to think that there had been
+some truth in Akulina's remarks after all, but he kept his opinion to
+himself, then and afterwards, a course which was justified by subsequent
+events. He and the Count turned towards the shop, and, entering, found
+Fischelowitz and the Consul conversing together.
+
+The Count bowed to the latter with much ceremony.
+
+"I fear," he said, "that you must have thought me careless just now. The
+suddenness of the news I have received has affected me. Pray accept my
+best thanks for your kindness in accompanying Doctor Grabofsky this
+morning."
+
+"Do not mention it, Count. I am only too glad to be of service."
+
+"You are very kind. And now, Herr Fischelowitz," he continued, turning to
+the tobacconist, "it is my pleasant duty to thank you also. I looked for
+these gentlemen yesterday. They have arrived to-day. The change which I
+expected would take place has come, and I am about to return to my home.
+The memories of poverty and exile can never be pleasant, but I do not
+think that I have any just reason to complain. Will it please you, Herr
+Fischelowitz, and you, gentlemen, to go into the next room with me? I wish
+to take my leave of those who have so long been my companions."
+
+Fischelowitz opened the door of communication and held it back
+respectfully for the Count to pass. His ideas were exceedingly confused,
+but his instinct told him to make all atonement in his power for his
+wife's outbursts of temper. The Count entered first, and the other three
+followed him, Grabofsky, the Consul, and Fischelowitz. The little back
+shop was very full. To judge from the last accents of Akulina's voice she
+had been repaying Johann Schmidt with compound interest, now that the
+right was on her side, for the manner in which he had attacked her. As the
+Count entered, however, all held their peace, and he began to speak in the
+midst of total silence. He stood by the little black table upon which his
+lean, stained fingers had manufactured so many hundreds of thousands of
+cigarettes.
+
+"Herr Fischelowitz," he began, "I am here to say good-bye to you, to your
+good wife, and to my companions. During a number of years you have
+afforded me the opportunity of earning an honest living, and I have to
+thank you very heartily for the forbearance you have shown me. It is not
+your fault if your consideration for me has sometimes taken a passive
+rather than an active form. It was not your business to fight my battles.
+Give me your hand, Herr Fischelowitz. We part, as we have lived, good
+friends. I wish you all possible success."
+
+The tobacconist bowed low as he respectfully shook hands.
+
+"Too much honour," he said.
+
+"Frau Fischelowitz," continued the Count, "you have acted according to
+your lights and your beliefs. I bear you no ill-will. I only hope that if
+any other poor gentleman should ever take my place you will not make his
+position harder than it would naturally be, and I trust that all may be
+well with you."
+
+"I never meant it, Herr Graf," said Akulina, awkwardly, as she took his
+proffered hand.
+
+He turned to the Cossack.
+
+"Good-bye, Johann Schmidt, good-bye. I shall see you again, before long.
+We have always helped each other, my friend. I have much to thank you
+for."
+
+"You have helped me, you mean," said the Cossack, in a rather shaky voice.
+
+"No, no--each other, and we will continue to do so, I hope, in a different
+way. Good-bye, Dumnoff. You have a better heart than people think."
+
+"Are you not going to take me to Russia, after all?" asked the mujik,
+almost humbly.
+
+"Did I say I would? Then you shall go. But not as coachman, Dumnoff. Not
+as coachman, I think. Good-bye, Anna Nicolaevna," he said, turning to the
+insignificant girl, who was at last too much awed to giggle.
+
+Then he came to Vjera's place. The girl was leaning forward, hiding her
+face in her hands, and resting her small, pointed elbows on the table.
+
+"Vjera, dear," he said, bending down to her, "will you come with me, now?"
+
+She looked up, suddenly, and her face was very white and drawn, and wet
+with tears.
+
+"Oh no, no!" she said in a low voice. "How can I ever be worthy of you,
+since it is really true?"
+
+But the Count put his arm round the poor little shell-maker's waist, and
+made her stand beside him in the midst of them all.
+
+"Gentlemen," he said, in his calmly dignified manner, "let me present to
+you the Countess Skariatine. She will bear that name to-morrow. I owe you
+a confession before leaving you, in her honour and to my humiliation. I
+had contracted a debt of honour, and I had nothing wherewith to pay it.
+There was but an hour left--an hour, and then my life and my honour would
+have been gone together."
+
+Vjera looked up into his face with a pitiful entreaty, but he would go on.
+
+"She saved me, gentlemen," he continued. "She cut off her beautiful hair
+from her head, and sold it for me. But that is not the reason why she is
+to be my wife. There is a better reason than that. I love her, gentlemen,
+with all my heart and soul, and she has told me that she loves me."
+
+He felt her weight upon him, and, looking down, he saw that she had
+fainted in his arms, with a look of joy upon her poor wan face which none
+there had ever seen in the face of man or woman.
+
+And so love conquered.
+
+                                 The End.
+
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+MR. CRAWFORD'S LAST NOVEL.
+KATHARINE LAUDERDALE.
+TWO VOLUMES. CLOTH. $2.00.
+The first of a series of novels dealing with New York life.
+
+PRESS COMMENTS.
+
+"Mr. Crawford at his best is a great novelist, and in _Katharine
+Lauderdale_ we have him at his best."--_Boston Daily Advertiser._
+
+"A most admirable novel, excellent in style, flashing with humor, and full
+of the ripest and wisest reflections upon men and women."--_The
+Westminster Gazette._
+
+"It is the first time, we think, in American fiction that any such breadth
+of view has shown itself in the study of our social framework."--_Life._
+
+"Admirable in its simple pathos, its enforced humor, and, above all, in
+its truths to human nature.... There is not a tedious page or paragraph in
+it."--_Punch._
+
+"It need scarcely be said that the story is skilfully and picturesquely
+written, portraying sharply individual characters in well-defined
+surroundings."--_New York Commercial Advertiser._
+
+"_Katharine Lauderdale_ is a tale of New York, and is up to the highest
+level of his work. In some respects it will probably be regarded as his
+best. None of his works, with the exception of _Mr. Isaacs_, show so
+clearly his skill as a literary artist."--_San Francisco Evening
+Bulletin._
+
+"The book shows the inventive power, the ingenuity of plot, the subtle
+analysis of character, the skilfulness in presenting shifting scenes, the
+patient working-out of details, the aptitude of deduction, and vividness
+of description which characterize the Saracinesca romances."--_New York
+Home Journal._
+
+"Nowhere has the author shown more admirable understanding and command of
+the novel-writer's art.... Whoever wants an original and fascinating book
+can be commended to this one."--_Philadelphia Evening Telegraph._
+
+_IN PRESS._
+A Sequel to "KATHARINE LAUDERDALE,"
+THE RALSTONS.
+
+MACMILLAN & CO.,
+66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK.
+
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+UNIFORM EDITION OF
+F. MARION CRAWFORD'S NOVELS.
+12mo, Cloth. Price, ONE DOLLAR EACH.
+
+MARION DARCHE.
+A STORY WITHOUT COMMENT.
+
+PIETRO GHISLERI.
+CHILDREN OF THE KING.
+DON ORSINO. A Sequel to "Saracinesca" and "Sant' Ilario."
+THE THREE FATES.
+THE WITCH OF PRAGUE.
+KHALED.
+A CIGARETTE-MAKER'S ROMANCE.
+SANT' ILARIO. A Sequel to "Saracinesca."
+GREIFENSTEIN.
+WITH THE IMMORTALS.
+TO LEEWARD.
+A ROMAN SINGER.
+AN AMERICAN POLITICIAN.
+PAUL PATOFF.
+MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX.
+SARACINESCA.
+A TALE OF A LONELY PARISH.
+ZOROASTER.
+DR. CLAUDIUS.
+MR. ISAACS.
+
+MACMILLAN & CO., PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK.
+
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
+
+1. Punctuation has been normalized to contemporary standards.
+
+2. Typographic errors corrected in original:
+   p. 30 hear to heard ("heard the chink")
+   p. 129 Schimdt to Schmidt ("cried Schmidt in a tone of decision")
+   p. 243 Fischelowizt to Fischelowitz ("Herr Fischelowitz")
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's A Cigarette-Maker's Romance, by F. Marion Crawford
+
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+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Cigarette-Maker's Romance, by F. Marion Crawford
+    </title>
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+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's A Cigarette-Maker's Romance, by F. Marion Crawford
+
+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: A Cigarette-Maker's Romance
+
+Author: F. Marion Crawford
+
+Release Date: June 22, 2006 [EBook #18651]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CIGARETTE-MAKER'S ROMANCE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<table width="420" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" border="1">
+  <col style="width:100%;" />
+  <tr>
+    <td align="center">
+    <span style="font-size: 175%;"><br/>A CIGARETTE-MAKER'S<br/>ROMANCE</span><br /><br /><br />
+    <span style="font-size: 80%;">BY</span><br /><br />
+    <span style="font-size: 100%;">F. MARION CRAWFORD</span><br />
+    <span style="font-size: 70%;">AUTHOR OF "MR. ISAACS," "DR. CLAUDIUS," "A ROMAN SINGER"<br/>ETC.</span><br/><br /><br /><br/><br /><br />
+    <span style="font-size: 100%;">New York</span><br />
+    <span style="font-size: 120%;">MACMILLAN AND CO.</span><br />
+    <span style="font-size: 80%;">AND LONDON</span><br />
+    <span style="font-size: 100%;">1894</span><br /><br />
+    <span style="font-size: 80%;">All rights reserved</span><br />
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<table width="420" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" border="0">
+  <col style="width:100%;" />
+  <tr>
+    <td align="center">
+    <span style="font-size: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1890,</span><br />
+    <span style="font-size: 80%;"><span class="smcap">By</span> F. MARION CRAWFORD</span><br /><br/>
+    <span style="font-size: 80%;">Set up and electrotyped May, 1893. Reprinted July, 1894.</span><br /><br /><br /><br />
+    <span style="font-size: 80%;">Norwood Press:</span><br/>
+    <span style="font-size: 80%;">J. S. Cushing &amp; Co.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&mdash;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Berwick &amp; Smith.</span><br />
+    <span style="font-size: 80%;">Boston, Mass., U.S.A.</span>
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+
+<h2><a name="Contents" id="Contents"></a>Contents</h2>
+<div class="smcap">
+<table border="0" width="500" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents">
+<col style="width:70%;" />
+<col style="width:30%;" />
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER I.</td><td align="right"><a href="#r2592">1</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER II.</td><td align="right"><a href="#r2966">25</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER III.</td><td align="right"><a href="#r7021">48</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER IV.</td><td align="right"><a href="#r2332">72</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER V.</td><td align="right"><a href="#r9884">96</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER VI.</td><td align="right"><a href="#r7044">121</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER VII.</td><td align="right"><a href="#r9806">145</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER VIII.</td><td align="right"><a href="#r4233">168</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER IX.</td><td align="right"><a href="#r6930">191</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER X.</td><td align="right"><a href="#r6118">214</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER XI.</td><td align="right"><a href="#r4579">240</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER XII.</td><td align="right"><a href="#r5556">264</a></td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<h1>A CIGARETTE-MAKER'S ROMANCE.</h1>
+
+<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="r2592" id="r2592"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>The inner room of a tobacconist's shop is not perhaps the spot which a
+writer of fiction would naturally choose as the theatre of his play, nor
+does the inventor of pleasant romances, of stirring incident, or moving
+love-tales feel himself instinctively inclined to turn to Munich as to
+the city of his dreams. On the other hand, it is by no means certain
+that, if the choice of a stage for our performance were offered to the
+most contented among us, we should be satisfied to speak our parts and
+go through our actor's business upon the boards of this world. Some
+would prefer to take their properties, their player's crowns and robes,
+their aspiring expressions and their finely expressed aspirations before
+the audience of a larger planet; others, perhaps the majority, would
+choose, with more humility as well as with more common sense, the
+shadowy scenery, the softer footlights and the less exigent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> public of a
+modest asteroid, beyond the reach of our earthly haste, of our noisy and
+unclean high-roads to honour, of our furious chariot races round the
+goals of fame, and, especially, beyond the reach of competition. But we
+have no choice. We are in the world and, before we know where we are, we
+are on one of the paths which we must traverse in our few score years
+between birth and death. Moreover, each man's path leads up to the
+theatre on the one side and down from it on the other. The inexorable
+manager, Fate, requires that each should go through with his comedy or
+his drama, if he be judged worthy of a leading part, with his scene or
+his act in another man's piece, if he be fit only to play the walking
+gentleman, the dumb footman, or the mechanically trained supernumerary
+who does duty by turns as soldier, sailor, courtier, husbandman,
+conspirator or red-capped patriot. A few play well, many play badly, all
+must appear and the majority are feebly applauded and loudly hissed. He
+counts himself great who is received with such an uproar of clapping and
+shout of approval as may drown the voice of the discontented; he is
+called fortunate who, having missed his cue and broken down in his
+words, makes his exit in the triumphant train of the greater actor upon
+whom all eyes are turned; he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> is deemed happy who, having offended no
+man, is allowed to depart in peace upon his downward road. Yet none of
+these players need pride themselves much upon their success nor take to
+heart their failure. Long before most of them have slipped into the
+grave which waits at the foot of the hill, and have been wrapped
+comfortably in the pleasant earth, their names are forgotten by those
+who screamed with pleasure or hooted in disgust at their performance,
+their faces are no longer remembered, their great drama is become an
+old-fashioned mummery of the past. Why should they care? Their work is
+done, they have been rewarded or punished, paid with praise and gold or
+mulcted in the sum of their reputation and estate. Famous or infamous,
+in honour or in disrepute, in riches or in poverty, they have reached
+the end of their time, they are worn out, the world will have no more of
+them, they are worthless in the price-scale of men, they must be buried
+out of sight and they will be forgotten out of mind. The beginning is
+the same for all, and the end also, and as for the future, who shall
+tell us upon what basis of higher intelligence our brief passage across
+the stage is to be judged? Why then should the present trouble our
+vanity so greatly? And if our play is of so little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> importance, why
+should we care whether the scenery is romantic instead of commonplace,
+or why should we make furious efforts to shift a Gothic castle, a
+drawbridge, a moat and a waterfall into the slides occupied by the four
+walls of a Munich tobacconist's shop?</p>
+
+<p>There is not even anything especial in the appearance of the place to
+recommend it to the ready pen of the word-painter. It is an
+establishment of very modest pretensions situated in one of the side
+streets leading to a great thoroughfare. As we are in Munich, however,
+the side street is broad and clean, the pavement is well swept and the
+adjoining houses have an air of solid respectability and wealth. At the
+point where the street widens to an irregular shape on the downward
+slope there is a neat little iron kiosque completely covered with
+brilliant advertisements, printed in black Gothic letters upon red and
+yellow paper. The point of vivid colour is not disagreeable, for it
+relieves the neutral tints of brick and brown stone, and arrests the
+eye, long wearied with the respectable parade of buildings. The
+tobacconist's shop is, indeed, the most shabby, or, to speak more
+correctly, the least smartly new among its fellow-shops, wherein dwell,
+in consecutive order, a barber, a watchmaker,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> a pastry-cook, a
+shoemaker and a colour-man. In spite of its unattractive exterior,
+however, the establishment of "Christian Fischelowitz, from South
+Russia," enjoys a very considerable reputation. Within the high, narrow
+shop there is good store of rare tobaccos, from the mild Kir to the
+Imperial Samson, the aromatic Dubec and the pungent Swary. The dusty
+window beside the narrow door exhibits, it is true, only a couple of
+tall, dried tobacco plants set in flower-pots, a carelessly arranged
+collection of cedar and pasteboard boxes for cigars and cigarettes, and
+a fantastically constructed Swiss cottage, built entirely of cigarettes
+and fine cut yellow leaf, with little pieces of glass set in for
+windows. This effort of architecture is in a decidedly ruinous
+condition, the little stuffed paper cylinders are ragged and torn, some
+of them show signs of detaching themselves from the cardboard frame upon
+which they are pasted, and the dust of years has accumulated upon the
+bit of painted board which serves as a foundation for the chalet. In one
+corner of the window an object more gaudy but not more useful attracts
+the eye. It is the popular doll figure commonly known in Germany as the
+"Wiener Gigerl" or "Vienna fop." It is doubtful whether any person could
+appear in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> the public places of Vienna in such a costume without being
+stoned or otherwise painfully put to a shameful death. The doll is
+arrayed in black shorts and silk stockings, a wide white waistcoat, a
+scarlet evening coat, an enormous collar and a white tall hat with a
+broad brim. He stands upon one foot, raising the other as though in the
+act of beginning a minuet; he holds in one hand a stick and in the other
+a cigarette, a relatively monstrous eye-glass magnifies one of his
+painted eyes and upon his face is such an expression of combined
+insolence, vulgarity, dishonesty and conceit as would insure his being
+shot at sight in any Western American village making the least pretence
+to self-respect. On high days and holidays Christian Fischelowitz
+inserts a key into the square black pedestal whereon the doll has its
+being, and the thing lives and moves, turns about and cocks its
+impertinent head at the passers-by, while a feeble tune of uncertain
+rhythm is heard grating itself out upon the teeth of the metal comb in
+the concealed mechanism. Fischelowitz delights in this monstrosity, and
+is never weary of watching its detestable antics. It is doubtful whether
+in the simplicity of his good-natured heart he does not really believe
+that the Wiener Gigerl may attract<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> a stray customer to his counter and,
+in the long-run, pay for itself. For it cost him money, and in itself,
+as a thing of beauty, it hardly covers the bad debt contracted with him
+by a poor fellow-countryman to whom he kindly lent fifty marks last
+year. He accepted the doll without a murmur, however, in full discharge
+of the obligation, and with an odd philosophy peculiar to himself, he
+does his best to get what amusement he can out of the little red-coated
+figure without complaining and without bitterness.</p>
+
+<p>Christian's wife, his larger if not his better half, is less complacent.
+In the publicity of the shop her small black eyes cast glances full of
+hate upon the innocent Gigerl, her full flat face reddens with anger
+when she remembers the money, and her fat hands would dash the insolent
+little figure into the street, if her mercantile understanding did not
+suggest the possibility of ultimately selling it for something. In view
+of such a fortunate contingency, and whenever she is alone, she
+carefully dusts the thing and puts it away in the cupboard in the
+corner, well knowing that Fischelowitz will return in an hour, will take
+it out, set it in its place, wind it up and watch its performance with
+his everlasting, good-humoured, satisfied smile. In<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> public she ventures
+only to abuse the doll. In the silent watches of the night she directs
+her sharp speeches at Christian himself. Not that she is altogether
+miserly, nor by any means an ill-disposed person. Had she been of such a
+disposition her husband would not have married her, for he is a very
+good man of business and a keen judge of other wares besides tobacco.
+She is a good mother and a good housewife, energetic, thrifty, and of
+fairly even temper; but that particular piece of generosity which
+resulted in the acquisition of a red-coated puppet in exchange for fifty
+marks fills her heart with anger and her plump brown fingers with an
+itching desire to scratch and tear something or somebody as a means of
+satisfying her vengeance. For the poor fellow-countryman was one of the
+Count's friends, and Akulina Fischelowitz abhors the Count and loathes
+him, and the Wiener Gigerl was the beginning of the end.</p>
+
+<p>While Christian is watching his doll, and Akulina is seated behind the
+counter, her hands folded upon her lap, and her eyes darting unquiet
+glances at her husband, the Count is busily occupied in making
+cigarettes in the dingy back shop among a group of persons, both young
+and old, all similarly occupied. It is not to be expected that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>
+workroom should be cleaner or more tastefully decorated than the
+counting-house, and in such a business as the manufacture of cigarettes
+by hand litter of all sorts accumulates rapidly. The "Famous Cigarette
+Manufactory of Christian Fischelowitz from South Russia" is about as
+dingy, as unhealthy, as untidy, as dusty a place as can be found within
+the limits of tidy, well-to-do Munich. The room is lighted by a window
+and a half-glazed door, both opening upon a dark court. The walls,
+originally whitewashed, are of a deep rich brown, attributable partly to
+the constant fumes and exhalations of tobacco, partly to the fine brown
+dust of the dried refuse cuttings, and partly to the admirable
+smoke-giving qualities of the rickety iron stove which stands in one
+corner, and in which a fire is daily attempted during more than half the
+year. There are many shelves upon the walls too, and the white wood of
+these has also received into itself the warm, deep colour. Upon two of
+these shelves there are accumulations of useless articles, a cracked
+glass vase, once the pride of the show window, when it was filled to
+overflowing with fine cut leaf, a broken-down samovar which has seen
+tea-service in many cities, from Kiew to Moscow, from Moscow to Vilna,
+from Vilna to Berlin, from Berlin to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> Munich; there are fragments of
+Russian lacquered wooden bowls, wrecked cigar-boxes, piles of dingy
+handbills left over from the last half-yearly advertisement, a crazy
+Turkish narghile, the broken stem of a chibouque, an old hat and an odd
+boot, besides irregularly shaped parcels, wrapped in crumpled brown
+paper and half buried in dust. Upon the other shelves are arranged more
+neatly rows of tin boxes with locks, and reams of still uncut cigarette
+paper, some white, some straw-coloured.</p>
+
+<p>Round about the room are the seats of the workers. One man alone is
+standing at his task, a man with a dark, Cossack face, high cheek-bones,
+honest, gleaming black eyes, straggling hair and ragged beard. In his
+shirt-sleeves, his arms bare to the elbow, he handles the heavy swivel
+knife, pressing the package of carefully arranged leaves forward and
+under the blade by almost imperceptible degrees. It is one of the most
+delicate operations in the art, and the man has an especial gift for the
+work. So sensitive is his strong right hand that as the knife cuts
+through the thick pile he can detect the presence of a scrap of thin
+paper amongst the tobacco, and not a bit of hardened stem or a twisted
+leaf escapes him. It is very hard work, even for a strong man, and the
+moisture stands in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> great drops on his dark forehead as he carefully
+presses the sharp instrument through the resisting substance, quickly
+lifts it up again and pushes on the package for the next cut.</p>
+
+<p>At a small black table near by sits a Polish girl, poorly dressed, her
+heavy red-brown hair braided in one long neat tress, her face deadly
+white, her blue eyes lustreless and sunken, her thin fingers actively
+rolling bits of paper round a glass tube, drawing them off as the edges
+are gummed together, and laying them in a prettily arranged pile before
+her. She is Vjera, the shell-maker, invariably spoken of as "poor
+Vjera." Vjera, being interpreted from the Russian, means "Faith." There
+is an odd and pathetic irony in the name borne by the sickly girl.
+Faith&mdash;faith in what? In shell-making? In Christian Fischelowitz? In
+Johann Schmidt, the Cossack tobacco-cutter, whose real name is lost in
+the gloom of many dim wanderings? In life? In death? Who knows? In God,
+at least, poor child&mdash;and in her wretched existence there is little else
+left for her to believe in. If you ask her whether she believes in the
+Count, she will turn away rather hastily, but in that case the wish to
+believe is there.</p>
+
+<p>Beside Vjera sits another girl, less pale perhaps,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> but more
+insignificant in feature, and similarly occupied, with this slight
+difference that the little cylinders she makes are straw-coloured when
+Vjera is making white ones, and white when her companion is using
+straw-coloured paper. On the opposite side of the room, also before
+small black tables, sit two men, to wit, Victor Ivanowitch Dumnoff and
+the Count. It is their business to shape the tobacco and to insert it
+into the shells, a process performed by rolling the cut leaf into a
+cylinder in a tongue-shaped piece of parchment, which, when ready, has
+the form of a pencil, and is slipped into the shell. The parchment is
+then withdrawn, and the tobacco remains behind in its place; the little
+bunch of threads which protrudes at each end is cut off with sharp
+scissors and the cigarette is finished.</p>
+
+<p>The Count, on the afternoon of the day on which this story opens, was
+sitting before his little black table in his usual attitude, his head
+stooping slightly forward, his elbows supported on each side of him, his
+long fingers moving quickly and skilfully, his greyish blue eyes fixed
+intently on his work. At five o'clock in the afternoon on Tuesday, the
+sixth of May, in the present year of grace one thousand eight hundred
+and ninety, the Count was rapidly approaching the two-thousandth
+cigarette<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> of that day's work. Two thousand in a day was his limit; and
+though he boasted that he could make three thousand between dawn and
+midnight, if absolutely necessary, yet he confessed that among the last
+five hundred a few might be found in which the leaves would be too
+tightly rolled or too loosely packed. Up to his limit, however, he was
+to be relied upon, and not one of his hundred score of cigarettes would
+be found to differ in weight from another by a single grain.</p>
+
+<p>It is perhaps time to describe the outward appearance of the busy
+worker, out of whose life the events of some six-and-thirty hours
+furnish the subject of this little tale. The Count is thirty years old,
+but might be thought older, for there are grey streaks in his smooth
+black hair, and there is a grey tone in the complexion of his tired
+face. In figure he is thin, broad shouldered, sinewy, well made and
+graceful. He moves easily and with a certain elegance. His arms and legs
+are long in proportion to his body. His head is well shaped, bony, full
+of energy&mdash;his nose is finely modelled and sharply aquiline; a short,
+dark moustache does not quite hide the firm, well-chiselled lips, and
+the clean-cut chin is prominent and of the martial type. From under his
+rather heavy eyebrows a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> pair of keen eyes, full of changing light and
+expression, look somewhat contemptuously on the world and its
+inhabitants. On the whole, the Count is a handsome man and looks a
+gentleman, in spite of his occupation and in spite of his clothes, which
+are in the fashion of twenty years ago, but are carefully brushed and
+all but spotless. There are poor men who can wear a coat as a red Indian
+will ride a mustang which a white man has left for dead, beyond the
+period predetermined by the nature of tailoring as the natural term of
+existence allotted to earthly garments. We look upon a centenarian as a
+miracle of longevity, and he is careful to tell us his age if he have
+not lost the power of speech; but if the coats of poor men could speak,
+how much more marvellous in our eyes would their powers of life appear!
+A stranger would have taken the Count for a half-pay officer of good
+birth in straitened circumstances. The expression of his face at the
+time in question was grave and thoughtful, as though he were thinking of
+matters weightier to his happiness, if not more necessary to his
+material welfare than his work. He saw his fingers moving, he watched
+each honey-coloured bundle of cut leaf as it was rolled in the parchment
+tongue, and with unswerving regularity<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> he made the motions required to
+slip the tobacco into the shell. But, while seeing all that he did, and
+seeing consciously, he looked as though he saw also through the familiar
+materials shaped under his fingers, into a dim distance full of a larger
+life and wider interests.</p>
+
+<p>The five occupants of the workshop had been working in silence for
+nearly half an hour. The two girls on the one side and the two men on
+the other kept their eyes bent down upon their fingers, while Johann
+Schmidt, the Cossack, plied his guillotine-like knife in the corner.
+This same Johann Schmidt, whose real name, to judge from his appearance,
+might have been Tarass Bulba or Danjelo Buralbash, and was probably of a
+similar sound, was at once the wit, the spendthrift and the humanitarian
+of the Fischelowitz manufactory, possessing a number of good qualities
+in such abundant measure as to make him a total failure in everything
+except the cutting of tobacco. Like many witty, generous and
+kind-hearted persons in a much higher rank of existence, he was cursed
+with a total want of tact. On the present occasion, having sliced
+through an unusually long package of leaves and having encountered an
+exceptional number of obstacles in doing so, he thought fit to pause,
+draw a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> long breath and wipe the perspiration from his sallow forehead
+with a pocket-handkerchief in which the neutral tints predominated. This
+operation, preparatory to a rest of ten minutes, having been
+successfully accomplished, Tarass Bulba Schmidt picked up a tiny oblong
+bit of paper which had found its way to his feet from one of the girls'
+tables, took a pinch of the freshly cut tobacco beside him and rolled a
+cigarette in his palm with one hand while he felt in his pocket for a
+match with the other. Then, in the midst of a great cloud of fragrant
+smoke, he sat down upon the edge of his cutting-block and looked at his
+companions. After a few moments of deep thought he gave expression to
+his meditations in bad German. It is curious to see how readily the
+Slavs in Germany fall into the habit of using the language of the
+country when conversing together.</p>
+
+<p>"It is my opinion," he said at last, "that the most objectless
+existences are those which most exactly accomplish the object set before
+them."</p>
+
+<p>Having given vent to this bit of paradox, Johann inhaled as much smoke
+as his leathery lungs could contain and relapsed into silence. Vjera,
+the Polish girl, glanced at the tobacco-cutter and went on with her
+work. The insignificant girl beside her giggled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> vacantly. Dumnoff did
+not seem to have heard the remark.</p>
+
+<p>"Nineteen hundred and twenty-three," muttered the Count between his
+teeth and in Russian, as the nineteenth hundred and twenty-third
+cigarette rolled from his fingers, and he took up the parchment tongue
+for the nineteenth hundred and twenty-fourth time that day.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not exactly understand you, Herr Schmidt," said Vjera without
+looking up again. "An objectless life has no object. How then&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There is nothing to understand," growled Dumnoff, who never counted his
+own work, and always enjoyed a bit of conversation, provided he could
+abuse something or somebody. "There is nothing in it, and Herr Schmidt
+is a Landau moss-head."</p>
+
+<p>It would be curious to ascertain why the wiseacres of eastern Bavaria
+are held throughout South Germany in such contempt as to be a byword for
+dulness and stupidity. The Cossack's dark eyes shot a quick glance at
+the Russian, but he took no notice of the remark.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean," he said, after a pause, "exactly what I say. I am an honest
+fellow, and I always mean what I say, and no offence to anybody. Do we
+not all of us, here with Fischelowitz, exactly fulfil the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> object set
+before us, I would like to ask? Do we not make cigarettes from morning
+till night with horrible exactness and regularity? Very well. Do we not,
+at the same time, lead an atrociously objectless existence?"</p>
+
+<p>"The object of existence is to live," remarked Dumnoff, who was fond of
+cabbage and strong spirits, and of little else in the world. The Cossack
+laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you call this living?" he asked contemptuously. Then the
+good-humoured tone returned to his voice, and he shrugged his bony
+shoulders as he crossed one leg over the other and took another puff.</p>
+
+<p>"Nineteen hundred and twenty-nine," said the Count.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you call that a life for a Christian man?" asked Schmidt again,
+looking at him and waving towards him the lighted cigarette he held. "Is
+that a life for a gentleman, for a real Count, for a noble, for an
+educated aristocrat, for a man born to be the heir of millions?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thirty," said the Count. "No, it is not. But there is no reason why you
+should remind us of the fact, that I know of. It is bad enough to be
+obliged to do the thing, without being made to talk about it. Not that
+it matters to me so much to-day as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> it did a year ago, as you may
+imagine. Thirty-one. It will soon be over for me, at least. In fact I
+only finish these two thousand out of kindness to Fischelowitz, because
+I know he has a large order to deliver on the day after to-morrow. And,
+besides, a gentleman must keep his word even&mdash;thirty-two&mdash;in the matter
+of making cigarettes for other people. But the work on this batch shall
+be a parting gift of my goodwill to Fischelowitz, who is an honest
+fellow and has understood my painful situation all along. To-morrow at
+this time, I shall be far away. Thirty-three."</p>
+
+<p>The Count drew a long breath of relief in the anticipation of his
+release from captivity and hard labour. Vjera dropped her glass tube and
+her little pieces of paper and looked sadly at him, while he was
+speaking.</p>
+
+<p>"By the by," observed the Cossack, "to-day is Tuesday. I had quite
+forgotten. So you really leave us to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. It is all settled at last, and I have had letters. It is
+to-morrow&mdash;and this is my last hundred."</p>
+
+<p>"At what time?" inquired Dumnoff, with a rough laugh. "Is it to be in
+the morning or in the afternoon?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I do not know," answered the Count, quietly and with an air of
+conviction. "It will certainly be before night."</p>
+
+<p>"Provided you get the news in time to ask us to the feast," jeered the
+other, "we shall all be as happy as you yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Thirty-four," said the Count, who had rolled the last cigarette very
+slowly and thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>Vjera cast an imploring look on Dumnoff, as though beseeching him not to
+continue his jesting. The rough man, who might have sat for the type of
+the Russian mujik, noticed the glance and was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is incredulous enough to disbelieve this time?" asked the Cossack,
+gravely. "Besides, the Count says that he has had letters, so it is
+certain, at last."</p>
+
+<p>"Love-letters, he means," giggled the insignificant girl, who rejoiced
+in the name of Anna Schmigjelskova. Then she looked at Vjera as though
+afraid of her displeasure.</p>
+
+<p>But Vjera took no notice of the silly speech and sat idle for some
+minutes, gazing at the Count with an expression in which love,
+admiration and pity were very oddly mingled. Pale and ill as she looked,
+there was a ray of light and a movement of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> life in her face during
+those few moments. Then she took again her glass tube and her bits of
+paper and resumed her task of making shells, with a little heave of her
+thin chest that betrayed the suppression of a sigh.</p>
+
+<p>The Count finished his second thousand, and arranged the last hundreds
+neatly with the others, laying them in little heaps and patting the ends
+with his fingers so that they should present an absolutely symmetrical
+appearance. Dumnoff plodded on, in his peculiar way, doing the work well
+and then carelessly tossing it into a basket by his side. He was capable
+of working fourteen hours at a stretch when there was a prospect of
+cabbage soup and liquor in the evening. The Cossack cleaned his
+cutting-block and his broad swivel knife and emptied the cut tobacco
+into a clean tin box. It was clear that the day's work was almost at an
+end for all present. At that moment Fischelowitz entered with jaunty
+step and smiling face, jingling a quantity of loose silver in his hand.
+He is a little man, rotund and cheerful, quiet of speech and sunny in
+manner, with a brown beard and waving dark hair, arranged in the manner
+dear to barbers' apprentices. He has very soft brown eyes, a healthy
+complexion and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> a nose the inverse of aquiline, for it curves upwards to
+its sharp point, as though perpetually snuffing after the pleasant
+fragrance of his favourite "Dubec otborny."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my children," he said, with a slight stammer that somehow lent an
+additional kindliness to his tone, "what has the day's work been? You
+first, Herr Graf," he added, turning to the Count. "I suppose that you
+have made a thousand at least?"</p>
+
+<p>Fischelowitz possessed in abundance the tact which was lacking in Johann
+Schmidt, the Cossack. He well knew that the Count had made double the
+quantity, but he also knew that the latter enjoyed the small triumph of
+producing twice what seemed to be expected of him.</p>
+
+<p>"Two thousand, Herr Fischelowitz," he said, proudly. Then seeing that
+his employer was counting out the sum of six marks, he made a
+deprecating gesture, as though refusing all payment.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said, with great dignity, and rising from his seat. "No. You
+must allow me, on this occasion, to refuse the honorarium usual under
+the circumstances."</p>
+
+<p>"And why, my dear Count?" inquired Fischelowitz, shaking the six marks
+in one hand and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> remainder of his money in the other, as though
+weighing the silver. "And why will you refuse me the honour&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The other working people exchanged glances of amusement, as though they
+knew what was coming. Vjera hid her face in her hands as she rested her
+elbows on the table before her.</p>
+
+<p>"I must indeed explain," answered the Count. "To-morrow, I shall be
+obliged to leave you, not to return to the occupation which has so long
+been a necessity to me in my troubles. Fortune at last returns to me and
+I am free. I think I have spoken to you in confidence of my situation,
+once at least, if not more often. My difficulties are at an end. I have
+received letters announcing that to-morrow I shall be reinstated in my
+possessions. You have shown me kindness&mdash;kindness, Herr Fischelowitz,
+and, what has been more than kindness to me, you have shown me great
+courtesy. Every one has not treated the poor gentleman with the same
+forbearance. But let bygones be bygones. On the occasion of my return to
+prosperity, permit me to offer you, as the only gift as yet within my
+means, the result of my last day's work within these walls. You have
+been very kind, and I thank you very sincerely."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>There was a tremor in the Count's voice, and a moisture in his eyes, as
+he drew himself up in his threadbare decent frock-coat and held out his
+sinewy hand, stained with the long handling of tobacco in his daily
+labour. Fischelowitz smiled with uncommon cheerfulness as he grasped the
+bony fingers heartily.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," he said. "I accept. I esteem it an honour to have been of
+any assistance to you in your temporary annoyances."</p>
+
+<p>Vjera still hid her face. The Cossack watched what was happening with an
+expression half sad, half curious, and Dumnoff displayed a set of
+ferocious white teeth as he stupidly grinned from ear to ear.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="r2966" id="r2966"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Fischelowitz paid each worker for the day's work, in his quick, cheerful
+way, and each, being paid, passed out through the front shop into the
+street. Five minutes later the Count was strolling along the
+Maximilians-strasse in the direction of the royal palace. As he walked
+he drew himself up to the full height of his military figure and looked
+into the faces of the passers in the way with grave dignity. At that
+hour there were many people abroad, slim lieutenants in the green
+uniforms of the Uhlans and in the blue coats and crimson facings of the
+heavy cavalry, superior officers with silver or gold plated epaulettes,
+slim maidens and plump matrons, beardless students in bright, coloured
+caps, and solemn, elderly civilians with great beards and greater
+spectacles, great Munich burghers and little Munich nobles, gaily
+dressed children of all ages, dogs of every breed from the Saint Bernard
+to the crooked-jointed Dachs, perambulators not a few and legions of
+nursery-maids. Most of the people who passed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> cast a glance at the
+thoroughbred-looking man in the threadbare frock-coat who looked at them
+all with such an air of quiet superiority, carrying his head so high and
+putting down his feet with such a firm tread. There were doubtless those
+among the crowd who saw in the tired face the indications of a
+life-story not without interest, for the crowd was not, nor ever is, in
+Munich, lacking in intelligent and observant persons. But in all the
+multitude there was not one man or woman who knew the name of the
+individual to whom the face belonged, and there were few who would have
+risked the respectability of their social position by making the
+acquaintance of a man so evidently poor, even if the occasion had
+presented itself.</p>
+
+<p>But presently a figure was seen moving swiftly through the throng in the
+direction already taken by the Count, a figure of a type much more
+familiar to the sight of the Munich stroller, for it was that of a
+poorly dressed girl with a long plait of red-brown hair, carrying a
+covered brown straw basket upon one arm and hurrying along with the
+noiseless tread possible only in the extreme old age of shoes that were
+never strong. Poor Vjera had been sent by Fischelowitz with a thousand
+cigarettes to be delivered at one of the hotels. She was generally<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>
+employed upon like errands, because she was the poorest in the
+establishment, and those who received the wares gave her a few pence for
+her trouble. She sped quickly onward, until she suddenly found herself
+close behind the Count. Then she slackened her pace and crept along as
+noiselessly as possible, her eyes fixed upon him as she walked and
+evidently doing her best not to overtake him nor to be seen by him. As
+luck would have it, however, the Count suddenly stood still before the
+show window of a picture-dealer's shop. A clever painting of a solitary
+Cossack riding along a stony mountain road, by Josef Brandt, had
+attracted his attention. Then as he realised that he had looked at the
+picture a dozen times during the previous week, his eye wandered, and in
+the reflection of the plate-glass window he caught sight of Vjera's
+slight form at no great distance from him. He turned sharply upon his
+heels and met her eyes, taking off his limp hat with a courteous
+gesture.</p>
+
+<p>"Permit me," he said, laying his hand upon the basket and trying to take
+it from her.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Vjera's face flushed suddenly, and her grip tightened upon the
+straw handle and she refused to let it go.</p>
+
+<p>"No, you shall never do that again," she said, quickly, trying to draw
+back from him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And why not? Why should I not do you a service?"</p>
+
+<p>"The other day you took it&mdash;the people stared at you&mdash;they never stare
+at me, for I am only a poor girl&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And what are the people or what is their staring to me?" asked the
+Count, quietly. "I am not afraid of being taken for a servant or a
+porter, because I carry a lady's parcel. Pray give me the basket."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, pray let it be," cried Vjera, in great earnest. "I cannot bear
+to see you with such a thing in your hand."</p>
+
+<p>They were still standing before the picture-dealer's window, while many
+people passed along the pavement. In trying to draw away, Vjera found
+herself suddenly in the stream, and just then a broad-shouldered officer
+who chanced to be looking the other way came into collision with her, so
+roughly that she was forced almost into the Count's arms. The latter
+made a step forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it your habit to jostle ladies in that way?" he asked in a sharp
+tone, addressing the stout lieutenant.</p>
+
+<p>The latter muttered something which might be taken for an apology and
+passed on, having no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> intention of being drawn into a street quarrel
+with an odd-looking individual who, from his accent, was evidently a
+foreigner. The Count's eyes darted an angry glance after the offender,
+and then he looked again at Vjera. In the little accident he had got
+possession of the basket. Thereupon he passed it to his left hand and
+offered Vjera his right arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Did the insolent fellow hurt you?" he asked anxiously, in Polish.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no&mdash;only give me my basket!" Vjera's face was painfully flushed.</p>
+
+<p>"No, my dear child," said the Count, gravely. "You will not deny me the
+pleasure of accompanying you and of carrying your burden. Afterwards, if
+you will, we can take a little walk together, before I see you to your
+home."</p>
+
+<p>"You are always so kind to me," answered the girl, bending her head, as
+though to hide her burning cheeks, but submitting at last to his will.</p>
+
+<p>For some minutes they walked on in silence. Then Vjera showed by a
+gesture that she wished to cross the street, on the other side of which
+was situated one of the principal hotels of the city. In front of the
+entrance Vjera put out her hand entreatingly towards her basket, but the
+Count took no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> notice of the attempt and resolutely ascended the steps
+of the porch by her side. Behind the swinging glass door stood the huge
+porter amply endowed with that military appearance so characteristic of
+all men in Germany who wear anything of the nature of an official
+costume.</p>
+
+<p>"The lady has a package for some one here," said the Count, holding out
+the basket.</p>
+
+<p>"For the head waiter," said Vjera, timidly.</p>
+
+<p>The porter took the basket, set it down, touched the button of an
+electric bell and silently looked at the pair with the malignant
+scrutiny which is the prerogative of servants in their manner with those
+whom they are privileged to consider as their inferiors. Presently,
+however, meeting the Count's cold stare, he turned away and strolled up
+the vestibule. A moment later the head waiter appeared, glorious in a
+perfectly new evening coat and a phenomenal shirt front.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, my cigarettes!" he exclaimed briskly, and the Count heard the chink
+of the nickel pence, as the head waiter inserted two fat white fingers
+into the pocket of his exceedingly fashionable waistcoat.</p>
+
+<p>The sight which must follow was one which the Count was anxious not to
+see. He therefore turned his back and pretended to brush from his sleeve
+a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> speck of dust revealed to his searching eye in the strong afternoon
+light which streamed through the open door. Then Vjera's low-spoken word
+of thanks and her light tread made him aware that she had received her
+little gratuity; he stood politely aside while she passed out, and then
+went down the half-dozen steps with her. As they began to move up the
+street, he did not offer her his arm again.</p>
+
+<p>"You are so kind, so kind to me," said poor Vjera. "How can I ever thank
+you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Between you and me there is no question of thanks," answered her
+companion. "Or if there is to be such a question it should arise in
+another way. It is for me to thank you."</p>
+
+<p>"For what?"</p>
+
+<p>"For many things, all of which have proceeded from your kindness of
+heart and have resulted in making my life bearable during the past
+months&mdash;or years. I keep little account of time. How long is it since I
+have been making cigarettes for Fischelowitz, at the rate of three marks
+a thousand?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ever since I can remember," answered Vjera. "It is six years since I
+came to work there as a little girl."</p>
+
+<p>"Six years? That is not possible! You must be mistaken, it cannot be so
+long."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Vjera said nothing, but turned her face away with an expression of pain.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is a long time, since all that happened," said the Count,
+thoughtfully. "I was a young man then, I am old now."</p>
+
+<p>"Old! How can you say anything so untrue!" Vjera exclaimed with
+considerable indignation.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I am old. It is no wonder. We say at home that 'strange earth dies
+without wind.' A foreign land will make old bones of a man without the
+help of years. That is what Germany has done for me. And yet, how much
+older I should be but for you, dear Vjera! Shall we sit down here, in
+this quiet place, under the trees? You know it is all over to-morrow,
+and I am free at last. I would like to tell you my story."</p>
+
+<p>Vjera, who was tired of the close atmosphere of the workroom and whose
+strength was not enough to let her walk far with pleasure, sat down upon
+the green bench willingly enough, but the nervous look of pain had not
+disappeared from her face.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it of any use to tell it to me again?" she asked, sadly, as she
+leaned against the painted backboard.</p>
+
+<p>The Count produced a cigarette and gravely lighted it, before he
+answered her, and when he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> spoke he seemed to attach little or no
+importance to her question.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," he said, "it is all different now, and I can look at it from
+a different point of view. Formerly when I spoke of it, I am afraid that
+I spoke bitterly, for, of course, I could not foresee that it could all
+come right again so soon, so very soon. And now that this weary time is
+over I can look back upon it with some pride, if with little
+pleasure&mdash;save for the part you have played in my life, and&mdash;may I say
+it?&mdash;saving the part I have played in yours."</p>
+
+<p>He put out his hand gently and tenderly touched hers, and there was
+something in the meeting of those two thin, yellow hands, stained with
+the same daily labour and not meeting for the first time thus, that sent
+a thrill to the two hearts and that might have brought a look of
+thoughtful interest into eyes dulled and wearied by the ordinary sights
+of this world. Vjera did not resent the innocent caress, but the colour
+that came into her face was not of the same hue as that which had burned
+there when he had insisted upon carrying her basket. This time the blush
+was not painful to see, but rather shed a faint light of beauty over the
+plain, pale features. Poor Vjera was happy for a moment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I am very glad if I have been anything to you," she said. "I would I
+might have been more."</p>
+
+<p>"More? I do not see&mdash;you have been gentle, forbearing, respecting my
+misfortunes and trying to make others respect them. What more could you
+have done, or what more could you have been?"</p>
+
+<p>Vjera was silent, but she softly withdrew her hand from his and gazed at
+the people in the distance. The Count smoked without speaking, for
+several minutes, closing his eyes as though revolving a great problem in
+his mind, then glancing sidelong at his companion's face, hesitating as
+though about to speak, checking himself and shutting his eyes again in
+meditation. Holding his cigarette between his teeth he clasped his
+fingers together tightly, unclasped them again and let his arms fall on
+each side of him. At last he turned sharply, as though resolved what to
+do.</p>
+
+<p>He believed that he was on the very eve of recovering a vast fortune and
+of resuming a high position in the world. It was no wonder that there
+was a struggle in his soul, when at that moment a new complication
+seemed to present itself. He was indeed sure that he did not love Vjera,
+and in the brilliant dreams which floated before his half-closed eyes,
+visions of beautiful and high-born women<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> dazzled him with their smiles
+and enchanted him by the perfect grace of their movements. To-morrow he
+might choose his wife among such as they. But to-day Vjera was by his
+side, poor Vjera, who alone of those he had known during the years of
+his captivity had stood by him, had felt for him, had given him a sense
+of reliance in her perfect sincerity and honest affection. And her
+affection had grown into something more; it had developed into love
+during the last months. He had seen it, had known it and had done
+nothing to arrest the growth. Nay, he had done worse. Only a moment ago
+he had taken her hand in a way which might well mislead an innocent
+girl. The Count, according to his lights, was the very incarnation of
+the theory, honour, in the practice, honesty. His path was clear. If he
+had deceived Vjera in the very smallest accent of word or detail of deed
+he must make instant reparation. This was the reason why he turned
+sharply in his seat and looked at her with a look which was certainly
+kind, but which was, perhaps, more full of determination than of
+lover-like tenderness.</p>
+
+<p>"Vjera," he said, slowly, pausing on every syllable of his speech, "will
+you be my wife?"</p>
+
+<p>Vjera looked at him long and shook her head in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> silence. Instead of
+blushing, she turned pale, changing colour with that suddenness which
+belongs to delicate or exhausted organisations. The Count did not heed
+the plain though unspoken negation and continued to speak very slowly
+and earnestly, choosing his words and rounding his expressions as though
+he were making a declaration to a young princess instead of asking a
+poor Polish girl to marry him. He even drew himself together, as it
+were, with the movement of dignity which was habitual with him,
+straightening his back, squaring his shoulders and leaning slightly
+forward in his seat. As he began to speak again, Vjera clasped her hands
+upon her knees and looked down at the gravel of the public path.</p>
+
+<p>"I am in earnest," he said. "To-morrow, all those rights to which I was
+born will be restored to me, and I shall enjoy what the world calls a
+great position. Am I so deeply indebted to the world that I must submit
+to all its prejudices and traditions? Has the world given me anything,
+in exchange for which it becomes my duty to consult its caprices, or its
+social superstitions? Surely not. To whom am I most indebted, to the
+world which has turned its back on me during a temporary embarrassment
+and loss of fortune, or to my friend<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> Vjera who has been faithfully kind
+all along? The question itself is foolish. I owe everything to Vjera,
+and nothing to the world. The case is simple, the argument is short and
+the verdict is plain. I will not take the riches and the dignities which
+will be mine by this time to-morrow to the feet of some high-born lady
+who, to-day, would look coldly on me because I am not&mdash;not quite in the
+fashion, so far as outward appearance is concerned. But I will and I do
+offer all, wealth, title, dignity, everything to Vjera. And she shakes
+her head, and with a single gesture refuses it all. Why? Has she a
+reason to give? An argument to set up? A sensible ground for her
+decision? No, certainly not."</p>
+
+<p>As he looked gravely towards her averted face, Vjera again shook her
+head, slowly and thoughtfully, with an air of unalterable determination.
+He seemed surprised at her obstinacy and watched her in silence for a
+few moments.</p>
+
+<p>"I see," he said at last, very sadly. "You think that I do not love
+you." Vjera made no sign, and a long pause followed during which the
+Count's features expressed great perplexity.</p>
+
+<p>The day was drawing to its close and the low sun shot level rays through
+the trees of the Hofgarten,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> far above the heads of the laughing
+children, the gossiping nurses and the slowly moving crowd that filled
+the pavement along the drive in front of the palace. Vjera and the Count
+were seated on a bench which was now already in the shade. The air was
+beginning to grow chilly, but neither of them heeded the change.</p>
+
+<p>"You think that I do not love you," said the Count again. "You are
+mistaken, deeply mistaken, Vjera."</p>
+
+<p>The faint, soft colour rose in the poor girl's waxen cheeks, and there
+was an unaccustomed light in her weary blue eyes as they met his.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not say," continued her companion, "that I love you as boys love
+at twenty. I am past that. I am not a young man any more, and I have had
+misfortunes such as would have broken the hearts of most men, and of the
+kind that do not dispose to great love-passion. If my troubles had come
+to me through the love of a woman&mdash;it might have been otherwise. As it
+is&mdash;do you think that I have no love for you, Vjera? Do not think that,
+dear&mdash;do not let me see that you think it, for it would hurt me. There
+is much for you, much, very much."</p>
+
+<p>"To-day," answered Vjera, sadly, "but not to-morrow."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You are cruel, without meaning to be even unkind," said the Count in an
+unsteady voice. This time it was Vjera who took his hand in hers and
+pressed it.</p>
+
+<p>"God forbid that I should have an unkind thought for you," she said,
+very tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>The Count turned to her again and there was a moisture in his eyes of
+which he was unconscious.</p>
+
+<p>"Then believe that I do truly love you, Vjera," he answered. "Believe
+that all that there is to give you, I give, and that my all is not a
+little. I love you, child, in a way&mdash;ah, well, you have your girlish
+dreams of love, and it is right that you should have them and it would
+be very wrong to destroy them. But they shall not be destroyed by me,
+and surely not by any other man, while I live. I shall grow young again,
+I will grow young for you, for, in years at least, I am not old. I will
+be a boy for you, Vjera, and I will love as boys love, but with the
+strength of a man who has known sorrow and overlived it. You shall not
+feel that in taking me you are taking a father, a protector, a man to
+whom your youth seems childhood, and your youthfulness childish folly.
+No, no&mdash;I will be more than that to you, I will be all to you that you
+are to me, and more, and more, each day, till love<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> has made us of one
+age, of one mind, of one heart. Do you not believe that all this shall
+be? Speak, dear. What is there yet behind in your thoughts?"</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot tell. I wish I knew." Vjera's answer was scarcely audible and
+she turned her face from him.</p>
+
+<p>"And yet, there is something, you are keeping something from me, when I
+have kept nothing from you. Why is it? Why do you not quite trust me and
+believe in me? I can make you happy, now. Yesterday it was different and
+so it was in all the yesterdays of yesterdays. I had nothing to offer
+you but myself."</p>
+
+<p>"It were best so," said Vjera in a low voice.</p>
+
+<p>The Count was silent. There was something in her manner which he could
+not understand, or rather, as he fancied, there was something in his own
+brain which prevented him from understanding a very simple matter, and
+he grew impatient with himself. At the same time he felt more and more
+strongly drawn to the young girl at his side. As the sun went down and
+the evening shadows deepened, he saw more in her face than he had been
+accustomed to see there. Every line of the pale features so familiar to
+his sight in his everyday life, reminded him of moments in the recent
+past when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> he had been wretchedly unhappy, and when the kindly look in
+Vjera's face had comforted him and made life seem less unbearable. In
+his dreary world she alone had shown that she cared whether he lived or
+died, were insulted or respected, were treated like a dog or like a
+Christian man. The kindness of his employer was indeed undeniable, but
+it was of the sort which grated upon the sensitive nature of the
+unfortunate cigarette-maker, for it was in itself vulgarly cheerful,
+assuming that, after all, the Count should be contented with his lot.
+But Vjera had always seemed to understand him, to feel for him, to
+foresee his sensibilities as it were, and to be prepared for them. In a
+measure appreciable to himself she admired him, and admiration alone can
+make pity palatable to the proud. In her eyes his constancy under
+misfortune was as admirable as his misfortunes themselves were worthy of
+commiseration. In her eyes he was a gentleman, and one who had a right
+to hold his head high among the best. When he was poorest, he had felt
+himself to be in her eyes a hero. Are there many men who can resist the
+charm of the one woman who believes them to be heroic? Are not most men,
+too, really better for the trust and faith that is placed in them by
+others, as the earthen vessel, valueless in itself,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> becomes a thing of
+prize and beauty under the loving hand of the artist who draws graceful
+figures upon it and colours it skilfully, and handles it tenderly?</p>
+
+<p>And now the poor man was puzzled and made anxious by the girl's
+obstinate rejection of his offer. A chilly thought took shape in his
+mind and pained him exceedingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Vjera," he said at last, "I see how it is. You have never loved me. You
+have only pitied me. You are good and kind, Vjera, but I wish it had
+been otherwise."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke very quietly, in a subdued tone, and the moisture which had
+been more than once in his eyes since he had sat down beside the young
+girl, now almost took the shape of a tear. He was wounded in his
+innocent vanity, in the last stronghold of his fast-fading
+individuality. But Vjera turned quickly at the words and a momentary
+fire illuminated her pale blue eyes and dispelled the misty veil that
+seemed to dull them.</p>
+
+<p>"Whatever you say, do not say that!" she exclaimed. "I love you with all
+my heart&mdash;I&mdash;ah, if you only understood, if you only knew, if you only
+guessed!"</p>
+
+<p>"That is it," answered the Count. "If I only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> could&mdash;but there is
+something that passes my understanding."</p>
+
+<p>The look of pain faded from his face and gave way to a bright smile, so
+bright, so rare, that it restored in the magic of an instant the
+freshness of early youth to the weary mask of sorrow. Then he covered
+his eyes with his hands as though searching his memory for something he
+could not find.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" he asked, after a short pause and looking suddenly at
+Vjera. "It is something I ought to remember and yet something I have
+quite forgotten. Help me, Vjera, tell me what you are thinking of, and I
+will explain it all."</p>
+
+<p>"I was thinking of this day a week ago," said Vjera, and a little sob
+escaped her as she quickly looked away.</p>
+
+<p>"A week ago? Let me see&mdash;what happened a week ago? But why should I ask?
+Nothing ever happens to me, nothing until now! And now, oh Vjera, it is
+you who do not understand, it is you who do not know, who cannot guess."</p>
+
+<p>As if he had forgotten everything else in the sudden realisation of his
+return to liberty and fortune, he began to speak quickly and excitedly
+in a tone louder and clearer than that of his ordinary voice.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he cried, "you can never guess what this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> change is to me. You can
+never know what I enjoy in the thought of being myself again, you cannot
+understand what it is to have been rich and great, and to be poor and
+wretched and to regain wealth and dignity again by the stroke of a pen
+in the vibration of a second. And yet it is true, all true, I tell you,
+to-day, at last, after so much waiting. To-morrow they will come to my
+lodging to fetch me&mdash;a court carriage or two, and many officials who
+will treat me with the old respect I was used to long ago. They will
+come up my little staircase, bringing money, immense quantities of
+money, and the papers and the parchments and the seals. How they will
+stare at my poor lodging, for they have never known that I have been so
+wretched. Yes, one will bring money in a black leathern case&mdash;I know
+just how it will look&mdash;and another will have with him a box full of
+documents&mdash;all lawfully mine&mdash;and a third will bring my orders, that I
+once wore, and with them the order of Saint Alexander Nevsky and a
+letter on broad heavy paper, signed Alexander Alexandrovitch, signed by
+the Tsar himself, Vjera. And I shall go with them to be received in
+audience by the Prince Regent here, before I leave for Petersburg. And
+then, after dinner, in the evening, I will get into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> my special carriage
+in the express train and my servants will make me comfortable and then
+away, away, a night, and a day and another night and perhaps a few hours
+more and I shall be at home at last, in my own great, beautiful home,
+far out in the glorious country among the woods and the streams and the
+birds; and I shall be driven in an open carriage with four horses up
+from the village through the great avenue of poplars to the grand old
+house. But before I go in I will go to the tomb&mdash;yes, I will go to the
+tomb among the trees, and I will say a prayer for my father and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Your father?" Vjera started slightly. She had listened to the long
+catalogue of the poor man's anticipations with a sad, unchanging face,
+as though she had heard it all before. But at the mention of his
+father's death she seemed surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. He is dead at last, and my brother died on the same day. I have
+had letters. There was a disease abroad in the village. They caught it
+and they died. And now everything is mine, everything, the lands and the
+houses and the money, all, all mine. But I will say a prayer for them,
+now that they are dead and I shall never see them again. God knows, they
+treated me ill when they were alive, but death has them at last."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Count's eyes grew suddenly cold and hard, so that Vjera shuddered as
+she caught the look of hatred in them.</p>
+
+<p>"Death, death, death!" he cried. "Death the judge, the gaoler, the
+executioner! He has done justice on them for me, and they will not break
+loose from the house he has made for them to lie in and to sleep in for
+ever. And now, friend Death, I am master in their stead, and you must
+give me time to enjoy the mastership before you serve me likewise. Oh
+Vjera, the joy, the delight, the ecstasy, the glory of it all!"</p>
+
+<p>He struck the palms of his lean hands together with the gesture of a
+boy, and laughed aloud in the sheer overflowing of his heart. But Vjera
+sat still, silent and thoughtful, beside him, watching him rather
+anxiously as though she feared lest the excess of his happiness might do
+him an injury.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not say anything, Vjera. You do not seem glad," he said,
+suddenly noticing her expression.</p>
+
+<p>"I am very glad, indeed I am," she answered, smiling with a great
+effort. "Who would not be glad at the thought of seeing you enjoy your
+own again?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is not for the money, Vjera!" he exclaimed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> in a lower and more
+concentrated tone. "It is not really for the money nor for the lands,
+nor even for the position or the dignity. Do you know what it is that
+makes me so happy? I have got the best of it. That is it. It has been a
+long struggle and a weary one, but I knew I should win, though I never
+saw how it was to be. When they turned me away from them like a dog, my
+father and my brother, I faced them on the threshold for the last time
+and I said to them, 'Look you, you have made an outcast of me, and yet I
+am your son, my father, and your brother, my brother, and you know it.
+And yet I tell you that when we meet again, I shall be master here, and
+not you.' And so it has turned out, Vjera, for they shall meet me&mdash;they
+dead, and I alive. They jeered and laughed, and sent me away with only
+the clothes I wore, for I would not take their money. I hear their
+laughter now in my ears&mdash;but I hear, too, a laugh that is louder and
+more pitiless than theirs was, for it is the laugh of Death!"</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="r7021" id="r7021"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>The Count rose to his feet as he finished the last sentence. It seemed
+as though he were oppressed by the inaction to which he was constrained
+during the last hours of waiting before the great moment, and he moved
+nervously, like a man anxious to throw off a burden.</p>
+
+<p>Vjera rose also, with a slow and weary movement.</p>
+
+<p>"It is late," she said. "I must go home. Good-night."</p>
+
+<p>"No. I will go with you. I will see you to your door."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," she answered, watching his face closely.</p>
+
+<p>Then the two walked side by side under the lime trees in the deepening
+evening shadows, to the low archway by which the road leads out of the
+Hofgarten on the side of the city. For some minutes neither spoke, but
+Vjera could hear her companion's quickly drawn, irregular breath. His
+heart was beating fast and his thoughts were chasing each other through
+a labyrinth of dreams, inconsequent,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> unreasonable, but brilliant in the
+extreme. His head high, his shoulders thrown back, his eyes flashing,
+his lips tightly closed, the Count marched out with his companion into
+the broad square. He felt that this had been the last day of his slavery
+and that the morrow's sun was to rise upon a brighter and a happier
+period of his life, in which there should be no more poverty, no more
+manual labour, no more pinching and grinding and tormenting of himself
+in the hopeless effort at outward and visible respectability. Poor Vjera
+saw in his face what was passing in his mind, but her own expression of
+sadness did not change. On the contrary, since his last outbreak of
+triumphant satisfaction she had been more than usually depressed. For a
+long time the Count did not again notice her low spirits, being absorbed
+in the contemplation of his own splendid future. At last he seemed to
+recollect her presence at his side, glanced at her, made as though to
+say something, checked himself, and began humming snatches from an old
+opera. But either his musical memory did not serve him, or his humour
+changed all at once, for he suddenly was silent again, and after
+glancing once more at Vjera's downcast face his own became very grave.</p>
+
+<p>He had been brought back to present considerations,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> and he found
+himself in one of those dilemmas with which his genuine pride, his
+innocent and harmless vanity and his innate kindness constantly beset
+his life. He had asked Vjera to marry him, scarcely half an hour
+earlier, and he now found himself separated from the moment which had
+given birth to the generous impulse, by a lengthened contemplation of
+his own immediate return to wealth and importance.</p>
+
+<p>He was deeply attached to the poor Polish girl, as men shipwrecked upon
+desert islands grow fond of persons upon whom they could have bestowed
+no thought in ordinary life. He had grown well accustomed to his poor
+existence, and in the surroundings in which he found himself, Vjera was
+the one being in whom, besides sympathy for his misfortune, he
+discovered a sensibility rarer than common, and the unconscious
+development of a natural refinement. There are strange elements to be
+found in all great cities among the colonies of strangers who make their
+dwellings therein. Brought together by trouble, they live in tolerance
+among themselves, and none asks the other the fundamental question of
+upper society, "Whence art thou?"&mdash;nor does any make of his neighbour
+the inquiry which rises first to the lips of the man of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> action,
+"Whither goest thou?" They meet as the seaweed meets on the crest of the
+wave, of many colours from many distant depths, to intermingle for a
+time in the motion of the waters, to part company under the driving of
+the north wind, to be drifted at last, forgetful of each other, by tides
+and currents which wash the opposite ends of the earth. This is the life
+of the emigrant, of the exile, of the wanderer among men; the
+incongruous elements meet, have brief acquaintance and part, not to meet
+again. Who shall count the faces that the exile has known, the voices
+that have been familiar in his ear, the hands that have pressed his? In
+every land and in every city, he has met and talked with a score, with
+scores, with hundreds of men and women all leading the more or less
+mysterious and uncertain life which has become his own by necessity or
+by choice. If he be an honest man and poor, a dozen trades have occupied
+his fingers in half a dozen capitals; if he be dishonest, a hundred
+forms and varieties of money-bringing dishonesty are sheathed like
+arrows in his quiver, to be shot unawares into the crowd of well-to-do
+and unsuspecting citizens on the borders of whose respectable society
+the adventurer warily picks his path.</p>
+
+<p>It is rarely that two persons meet under such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> circumstances between
+whom the bond of a real sympathy exists and can develop into lasting
+friendship between man and man, or into true love between man and woman.
+When both feel themselves approaching such a point, they are also
+unconsciously returning to civilisation, and with the civilising
+influence arises the desire to ask the fatal question, "Whence art
+thou?"&mdash;or the fear lest the other may ask it, and the anxiety to find
+an answer where there is none that will bear scrutiny.</p>
+
+<p>It was therefore natural that the Count should feel disturbed at what he
+had done, in spite of his sincere and honourable wish to abide by his
+proposal and to make Vjera his wife. He felt that in returning to his
+own position in the world he owed it in a measure to himself to wed with
+a maiden of whom he could at least say that she came of honest people.
+Always centred in his own alternating hopes and fears, and conscious of
+little in the lives of others, it seemed to him that a great difficulty
+had suddenly revealed itself to his apprehensions. At the same time, by
+a self-contradiction familiar to such natures as his, he felt himself
+more and more strongly drawn to the girl, and more and more strictly
+bound in honour to marry her. As he thought of this, his habitual
+contempt of the world<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> and its opinion returned. What had the world done
+for him? And if he had felt no obligation to consult it in his poverty,
+why need he bend to any such slavery in the coming days of his
+splendour? He stopped suddenly at the corner of the street in which the
+Polish girl lived. She lodged, with a little sister who was still too
+young to work, in a room she hired of a respectable Bohemian shoemaker.
+The latter's wife was of the sour-good kind, whose chief talent lies in
+giving their kind actions a hard-hearted appearance.</p>
+
+<p>"Vjera," said the Count, earnestly, "I have been talking a great deal
+about myself. You must forgive me, for the news I have received is so
+very important and makes such a sudden difference in my prospects. But
+you have not given me the answer I want to my question. Will you be my
+wife, Vjera, and come with me out of this wretched existence to share my
+happy life and to make it happier? Will you?"</p>
+
+<p>His tone was so sincere and loving that it produced a little storm of
+evanescent happiness in the girl's heart, and the tears started to her
+eyes and stained her sallow, waxen cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, if it could only be true!" she exclaimed in a voice more than half
+full of hope, as she quickly brushed away the drops.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But it is true, indeed it is," answered the Count. "Oh, Vjera, do you
+think I would deceive you? Do you think I could tell you a story in
+which there is no truth whatever? Do not think that of me, Vjera."</p>
+
+<p>The tears broke out afresh, but from a different source. For some
+seconds she could not speak.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you cry so bitterly?" he asked, not understanding at all what
+was passing. "I swear to you it is all true&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It is not that&mdash;it is not that," cried Vjera. "I know&mdash;I know that you
+believe it&mdash;and I love you so very much&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But then, I do not understand," said the Count in a low voice that
+expressed his pitiful perplexity. "How can I not believe it, when it is
+all in the letters? And why should you not believe it, too? Besides,
+Vjera dear, it will all be quite clear to-morrow. Of course&mdash;well, I can
+understand that having known me poor so long, it must seem strange to
+you to think of me as very rich. But I shall not be another man, for
+that. I shall always be the same for you, Vjera, always the same."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, always the same," sighed the girl under her breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and so, if you love me to-day, you will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> love me just as well
+to-morrow&mdash;to-morrow, the great day for me. What day will it be? Let me
+see&mdash;to-morrow is Wednesday."</p>
+
+<p>"Wednesday, yes," repeated Vjera. "If only there were no to-morrow&mdash;"
+She checked herself. "I mean," she added, quickly, "if only it could be
+Thursday, without any day between."</p>
+
+<p>"You are a strange girl, Vjera. I do not know what you are thinking of
+to-day. But to-morrow you will see. I think they will come for me in the
+morning. You shall see, you shall see."</p>
+
+<p>Vjera began to move onward and the Count walked by her side, wondering
+at her manner and tormenting his brain in the vain effort to understand
+it. In front of her door he held out his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Promise me one thing," he said, as she laid her fingers in his and
+looked up at him. Her eyes were still full of tears.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Promise that you will be my wife, when you are convinced that all this
+good fortune is real. You do not believe in it, though I cannot tell
+why. I only ask that when you are obliged to believe in it, you will do
+as I ask."</p>
+
+<p>Vjera hesitated, and as she stood still the hand he held trembled
+nervously.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I promise," she said, at last, as though with a great effort. Then, all
+at once, she covered her eyes and leaned against the door-post. He laid
+his hand caressingly upon her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it so hard to say?" he asked, tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but if it should ever be indeed true!" she moaned. "If it
+should&mdash;if it should!"</p>
+
+<p>"What then? Shall we not be happy together? Will it not be even pleasant
+to remember these wretched years?"</p>
+
+<p>"But if it should turn out so&mdash;oh, how can I ever be a fitting wife for
+you, how can I learn all that a great lady must think, and do, and say?
+I shall be unworthy of you&mdash;of your new friends, of your new world&mdash;but
+then, it cannot really happen. No&mdash;do not speak of it any more, it hurts
+me too much&mdash;good-night, good-night! Let us sleep and forget, and go
+back to our work in the morning, as though nothing had happened&mdash;in the
+morning, to-morrow. Will you? Then good-night."</p>
+
+<p>"There will be no work to-morrow," he said, returning to his argument.
+But she broke away and fled from him and disappeared in the dark and
+narrow staircase. As he stood, he could hear her light tread on the
+creaking wood of the steps, fainter and fainter in the distance. Then he
+caught<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> the feeble tinkle of a little bell, the opening and shutting of
+a door, and he was alone in the gloom of the evening.</p>
+
+<p>For some minutes he stood still, as though listening for some faint echo
+from the direction in which Vjera had disappeared, then he slowly and
+thoughtfully walked away. He had forgotten to eat at dinner-time, and
+now he forgot that the hour of the second meal had come round. He walked
+on, not knowing and not caring whither he went, absorbed in the
+contemplation of the bright pictures which framed themselves in his
+brain, troubled only by his ever-recurring wonder at Vjera's behaviour.</p>
+
+<p>Unconsciously, and from sheer force of habit, he threaded the streets in
+the direction of the tobacconist's shop where so much of his time was
+spent. If it be not true that the ghosts of the dead haunt places
+familiar to them in life, yet the superstition is founded upon the
+instincts of human nature. Men begin to haunt certain spots
+unconsciously while they are alive, especially those which they are
+obliged to visit every day and in which they are accustomed to sit, idle
+or at work, during the greater part of the week. The artist, when he
+wishes to be completely at rest, re-enters the studio he left but an
+hour earlier; the sailor hangs about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> the port when he is ashore, the
+shopman cannot resist the temptation to spend an hour among his wares on
+Sunday, the farmer is irresistibly drawn to the field to while away the
+time on holidays between dinner and supper. We all of us see more and
+understand better what we see, in those surroundings most familiar to
+us, and it is a general law that the average intelligence likes the best
+that which it understands with the least effort. The mechanical part of
+us, too, when free from any direct and especial impulse of the mind,
+does unknowingly what it has been in the habit of doing. Two-thirds of
+all the physical diseases in the world are caused by the disturbance of
+the mental habits and are vastly aggravated by the direction of the
+thoughts to the part afflicted. Idiots and madmen are often phenomenally
+healthy people, because there is in their case no unnatural effort of
+the mind to control and manage the body. The Count having bestowed no
+thought upon the direction of his walk, mechanically turned towards the
+scene of his daily labour.</p>
+
+<p>Considering that he believed himself to have abandoned for ever the
+irksome employment of rolling tobacco in a piece of parchment in order
+to slip it into a piece of paper, it might have been supposed that he
+would be glad to look at anything<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> rather than the glass door of the
+shop in which he had repeated that operation so many hundreds of
+thousands of times; or, at least, it might have been expected that on
+realising where he was he would be satisfied with a glance of
+recognition and would turn away.</p>
+
+<p>But the Count's fate had ordained otherwise. When he reached the shop
+the lights were burning brightly in the show window and within. Through
+the glass door he could see that Fischelowitz was comfortably installed
+in a chair behind the counter, contentedly smoking one of his own best
+cigarettes, and smiling happily to himself through the fragrant cloud.
+If the tobacconist's wife had been present, the Count would have gone
+away without entering, for he did not like her, and had reason to
+suspect that she hated him, which was indeed the case. But Akulina was
+nowhere to be seen, the shop looked bright and cheerful, the Count was
+tired, he pushed the door and entered. Fischelowitz turned his head
+without modifying his smile, and seeing who his visitor was nodded
+familiarly. The Count raised his hat a little from his head and
+immediately replaced it.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-evening, Herr Fischelowitz," he said, speaking, as usual, in
+German.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Good-evening, Count," answered the tobacconist, cheerfully. "Sit down,
+and light a cigarette. What is the news?"</p>
+
+<p>"Great news with me, for to-morrow," said the other, bending his head as
+he stooped over the nickel-plated lamp on the counter, in which a tiny
+flame burned for the convenience of customers. "To-morrow, at this time,
+I shall be on my way to Petersburg."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I hope so, for your sake," was the good-humoured reply. "But I am
+afraid it will always be to-morrow, Herr Graf."</p>
+
+<p>The Count shook his head after staring for a few seconds at his
+employer, and then smoked quietly, as though he attached no weight to
+the remark. Fischelowitz looked curiously at him, and during a brief
+moment the smile faded from his face.</p>
+
+<p>"You have not been long at supper," he remarked, after a pause. The
+observation was suggested by the condition of his own appetite.</p>
+
+<p>"Supper?" repeated the Count, rather vaguely. "I believe I had forgotten
+all about it. I will go presently."</p>
+
+<p>"The Count is reserving himself for to-morrow," said an ironical voice
+in the background. Akulina entered the shop from the workroom, a
+guttering<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> candle in a battered candlestick in one hand, and a number of
+gaily coloured pasteboard boxes tucked under the other arm. "What is the
+use of eating to-day when there will be so many good things to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>Neither Fischelowitz nor the Count vouchsafed any answer to this thrust.
+For the second time, since the Count had entered, however, the
+tobacconist wore an expression approaching to gravity. The Count himself
+kept his composure admirably, only glancing coldly at Akulina, and then
+looking at his cigarette. Akulina is a broad, fat woman, with a
+flattened Tartar face, small eyes, good but short teeth, full lips and a
+dark complexion. She reminds one of an over-fed tabby cat, of doubtful
+temper, and her voice seems to reach utterance after traversing some
+thick, soft medium, which lends it an odd sort of guttural richness. She
+moves quietly but heavily and has an Asiatic second sight in the matter
+of finance. In matters of thrift and foresight her husband places
+implicit confidence in her judgment. In matters of generosity and
+kindness implying the use of money, he never consults her.</p>
+
+<p>"It is amazing to see how much people will believe," she said, putting
+out her candle and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> snuffing it with her thumb and forefinger. Then she
+began to arrange the boxes she had brought, setting them in order upon
+the shelves. Still neither of the men answered her. But she was not the
+woman to be reduced to silence by silence.</p>
+
+<p>"I am always telling you that it is all rubbish," she continued, turning
+a broad expanse of alpaca-covered back upon her audience. "I am always
+telling you that you are no more a count than Fischelowitz is a grand
+duke, that the whole thing is a foolish imagination which you have stuck
+into your head, as one sticks tobacco into a paper shell. And it ought
+to be burned out of your head, or starved out, or knocked out, or
+something, for if it stays there it will addle your brains altogether.
+Why cannot you see that you are in the world just like other people, and
+give up all these ridiculous dreams and all this chatter about counts
+and princes and such like people, of whom you never spoke to one in your
+life, for all you may say?"</p>
+
+<p>The Count glanced at the back of Akulina's head, which was decently
+covered by a flattened twist of very shining black hair, and then he
+looked at Fischelowitz as though to inquire whether the latter would
+suffer a gentleman to be thus insulted in his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> presence and on his
+premises. Fischelowitz seemed embarrassed, and coloured a little.</p>
+
+<p>"You might choose your language a little more carefully, wife," he
+observed in a rather timid tone.</p>
+
+<p>"And you might choose your friends with a better view to your own
+interests," she answered without hesitation. "If you allow this sort of
+thing to go on, and four children growing up, and you expecting to open
+another shop this summer&mdash;why, you had better turn count yourself," she
+concluded, triumphantly, and with that nice logical perception peculiar
+to her kind.</p>
+
+<p>"If you mean to say that the Count's valuable help has not been to our
+advantage&mdash;" began Fischelowitz, making a desperate effort to give a
+more pleasant look to things.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I know that," laughed Akulina, scornfully. "I know that the Count,
+as you call him, can make his two thousand a day as well as any one. I
+am not blind. And I know you, and I know that it is a sort of foolish
+pleasure to you to employ a count in the work and to pay your money to a
+count, though he does not earn it any better than any one else, nor any
+worse, to be just. And I know the Count, and I know his friends who
+borrow fifty marks of you and pay you back in stuffed dolls with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> tunes
+in them. I know you, Christian Gregorovitch"&mdash;at the thought of the lost
+money Akulina broke at last into her native language and gave the reins
+to her fury in good Russian&mdash;"yes, I know you, and him, and his friends
+and your friends, and I see the good yellow money flying out of the
+window like a flight of canary birds when the cage is opened, and I see
+you grinning like Player-Ape over the vile Vienna puppet, and winding up
+its abominable music as though you were turning the key upon your money
+in the safe instead of listening to the tune of its departure. And then
+because Akulina has the courage to tell you the truth, and to tell you
+that your fine Count is no count, and that his friends get from you ten
+times the money he earns, then you turn on me like a bear, ready to bite
+off my head, and you tell me to choose my language! Is there no shame in
+you, Christian Gregorovitch, or is there also no understanding? Am I the
+mother of your four children or not? I would like to ask. I suppose you
+cannot deny that, whatever else you deny which is true, and you tell me
+to choose my language! <i>Da</i>, I will choose my language, in truth! <i>Da</i>,
+I will choose out such a swarm of words as ought to sting your ears like
+hornets, if you had not such a leathery skin and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> such a soft brain
+inside it. But why should I? It is thrown away. There is no shame in
+you. You see nothing, you care for nothing, you hear no reason, you feel
+no argument. I will go home and make soup. I am better there than in the
+shop. Oh yes! it is always that. Akulina can make good things to eat,
+and good tea and good punch to drink, and Akulina is the Archangel
+Michael in the kitchen. But if Akulina says to you, 'Save a penny here,
+do not lend more than you have there,' Akulina is a fool and must be
+told to choose her language, lest it be too indelicate for the dandified
+ears of the high-born gentleman! I should not wonder if, by choosing her
+language carefully enough, Akulina ended by making the high-born
+gentleman understand something after all. His perception cannot possibly
+be so dull as yours, Christian Gregorovitch, my little husband."</p>
+
+<p>Akulina paused for breath after her tremendous invective, which, indeed,
+was only intended by her for the preface of the real discourse, so
+fertile was her imagination and so thoroughly roused was her eloquence
+by the sense of injury received. While she was speaking, Fischelowitz,
+whose terror of his larger half was only relative, had calmly risen and
+had wound up the "Wiener Gigerl" to the extreme<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> of the doll's powers,
+placing it on the counter before him and sitting down before it in
+anticipation of the amusement he expected to derive from its
+performance. In the short silence which ensued while Akulina was resting
+her lungs for a second and more deadly effort, the wretched little
+musical box made itself heard, clicking and scratching and grinding out
+a miserable little polka. At the sound, the sunny smile returned to the
+tobacconist's face. He knew that no earthly eloquence, no scathing wit,
+no brutal reply could possibly exasperate his wife as this must. He
+resented everything she had said, and in his vulgar way he was ashamed
+that she should have said it before the Count, and now he was glad that
+by the mere turning of a key he could answer her storm of words in a way
+to drive her to fury, while at the same time showing his own
+indifference. As for the Count himself, he had moved nearer to the door
+and was looking quietly out into the irregularly lighted street, smoking
+as though he had not heard a word of what had been said. As he stood, it
+was impossible for either of the others to see his face, and he betrayed
+no agitation by movement or gesture.</p>
+
+<p>Akulina turned pale to the lips, as her husband had anticipated. It is
+probable that the most tragic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> event conceivable in her existence could
+not have affected her more powerfully than the twang of the musical box
+and the twisting and turning of the insolent little wooden head. She
+came round to the front of the counter with gleaming eyes and clenched
+fists.</p>
+
+<p>"Stop that thing!" she cried, "Stop it, or it will drive me mad."</p>
+
+<p>Fischelowitz still smiled, and the doll continued to turn round and
+round to the tune, while the Count looked out through the open door.
+Suddenly there was a quick shadow on the brightly lighted floor of the
+shop, followed instantly by a crash, and then with a miserable attempt
+to finish its tune the little instrument gave a resounding groan and was
+silent. Akulina had struck the Gigerl such a blow as had sent it flying,
+pedestal and all, past her husband's head into a dark corner behind the
+counter. Fischelowitz reddened with anger, and Akulina stood ready to
+take to flight, glad that the broad counter was between herself and her
+husband. Her fury had spent itself in one blow and she would have given
+anything to set the doll up in its place again unharmed. She realised at
+the same instant that she had probably destroyed any intrinsic value
+which the thing had possessed,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> and her face fell wofully. The Count
+turned slowly where he stood and looked at the couple.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going to fight each other?" he inquired in unusually bland
+tones.</p>
+
+<p>At the sound of his voice the Russian woman's anger rose again, glad to
+find some new object upon which to expend itself and on which to
+exercise vengeance for the catastrophe its last expression had brought
+about. She turned savagely upon the Count and shook her plump brown
+fists in his face.</p>
+
+<p>"It is all your fault!" she exclaimed. "What business have you to come
+between husband and wife with your friends and your cursed dolls, the
+fiend take them, and you! Is it for this that Christian Gregorovitch and
+I have lived together in harmony these ten years and more? Is it for
+this that we have lived without a word of anger&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What did you say?" asked Fischelowitz, with an angry laugh. But she did
+not heed him.</p>
+
+<p>"Without a word of anger between us, these many years?" she continued.
+"Is it for this? To have our peace destroyed by a couple of Wiener
+Gigerls, a doll and a sham count? But it is over now! It is over, I tell
+you&mdash;go, get yourself out of the shop, out of my sight, into the street
+where you belong! For honest folks to be harbouring such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> a fellow as
+you are, and not you only, but your friends and your rag and your tag!
+Fie! If you stay here long we shall end in dust and feathers! But you
+shall not stay here, whatever that soft-brained husband of mine says.
+You shall go and never come back. Do you think that in all Munich there
+is no one else who will do the work for three marks a thousand? Bah!
+there are scores, and honest people, too, who call themselves by plain
+names and speak plainly! None of your counts and your grand dukes and
+your Lord-knows-whats! Go, you adventurer, you disturber of&mdash;why do you
+look at me like that? I have always known the truth about you, and I
+have never been able to bear the sight of you and never shall. You have
+deceived my husband, poor man, because he is not as clever as he is
+good-natured, but you never could deceive me, try as you would, and the
+Lord knows, you have tried often enough. Pah! You good-for-nothing!"</p>
+
+<p>The poor Count had drawn back against the well-filled shop and had
+turned deadly pale as she heaped insult upon insult upon him in her
+incoherent and foul-mouthed anger. As soon as she paused, exhausted by
+the effort to find epithets to suit her hatred of him, he went up to the
+counter where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> Fischelowitz was sitting, very much disturbed at the
+course events were taking.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Count," began the latter, anxious to set matters right, "pray
+do not pay any attention&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I think I had better say good-bye," answered the Count in a low tone.
+"We part on good terms, though you might have said a word for me just
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"He dare not!" cried Akulina.</p>
+
+<p>"And as for the doll, if you will give it to me, I promise you that you
+shall have your fifty marks to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Oho! He knows where to get fifty marks, now!" exclaimed Akulina,
+viciously.</p>
+
+<p>Fischelowitz picked up the puppet, which was broken in two in the waist,
+so that the upper half of the body hung down by the legs, in a limp
+fashion, held only by the little red coat. The tobacconist wrapped it up
+in a piece of newspaper without a word and handed it to the Count. He
+felt perhaps that the only atonement he could offer for his wife's
+brutal conduct was to accede to the request.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said the Count, taking the thing. "On the word of a
+gentleman you shall have the money before to-morrow night."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"A good riddance of both of them," snarled Akulina, as the Count lifted
+his hat and then, his head bent more than was his wont, passed out of
+the shop with the remains of the poor Gigerl under his arm.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="r2332" id="r2332"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>The Count had no precise object in view when he hurriedly left the shop
+with the parcel containing the broken doll. What he most desired for the
+moment was to withdraw himself from the storm of Akulina's abuse, seeing
+that he had no means of checking the torrent, nor of exacting
+satisfaction for the insults received. However he might have acted had
+the aggressor been a man, he was powerless when attacked by a woman, and
+he was aware that he had followed the only course which had in it
+anything of dignity and self-respect. To stand and bandy words and
+epithets of abuse would have been worse than useless, to treat the
+tobacconist like a gentleman and to hold him responsible for his wife's
+language would have been more than absurd. So the Count took the remains
+of the puppet and went on his way.</p>
+
+<p>He was not, however, so superior to good and bad treatment as not to
+feel deeply wounded and thoroughly roused to anger. Perhaps, if he had
+been already in possession of the fortune and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> dignity which he expected
+on the morrow, he might have smiled contemptuously at the virago's noisy
+wrath, feeling nothing and caring even less what she felt towards him.
+But he had too long been poor and wretched to bear with equanimity any
+reference to his wretchedness or his poverty, and he was too painfully
+conscious of the weight of outward circumstances in determining men's
+judgments of their fellows not to be stung by the words that had been so
+angrily applied to him. Moreover, and worst of all, there was the fact
+that Fischelowitz had really lent the money to a poor countryman who had
+previously made the acquaintance of the Count, and had by that means
+induced the tobacconist to help him. It was true, indeed, that the poor
+Count had himself lent the fellow all he had in his pocket, which meant
+all that he had in the world, and had been half starved in consequence
+during a whole week. The man was an idle vagabond of the worst type,
+with a pitiful tale of woe well worded and logically put together, out
+of which he made a good livelihood. Nature, as though to favour his
+designs, had given him a face which excited sympathy, and he had the wit
+to cover his eyes, his own tell-tale feature, with coloured glasses. He
+had cheated several scores<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> of persons in the Slav colony of Munich, and
+had then gone in search of other pastures. How he had obtained
+possession of the Wiener Gigerl was a mystery as yet unsolved. It had
+certainly seemed odd in the tobacconist's opinion that a man of such
+outward appearance should have received such an extremely improbable
+Christmas present, for such the adventurer declared the doll to be, from
+a rich aunt in Warsaw, who refused to give him a penny of ready money
+and had caused him to be turned from her doors by her servants when he
+had last visited her, on the ground that he had joined the Russian
+Orthodox Church without her consent. The facetious young villain had
+indeed declared that she had sent him the puppet as a piece of scathing
+irony, illustrative of his character as she conceived it. But though
+such an illustration would have been apt beyond question, yet it seemed
+improbable that the aunt would have chosen such a means of impressing it
+upon her nephew's mind. Fischelowitz, however, asked no questions, and
+took the Gigerl as payment of the debt. The thing amused him, and it
+diverted him to construct an imaginary chain of circumstances to explain
+how the man in the coloured glasses had got possession of it. It was of
+course wholly inconceivable that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> even the most accomplished shop-lifter
+should have carried off an object of such inconvenient proportions from
+the midst of its fellows and under the very eyes of the vendor. If he
+had supposed a theft possible, Fischelowitz would never have allowed the
+doll to remain on his premises a single day. He was too kind-hearted,
+also, to blame the Count, as his wife did, for having been the promoter
+of the loan, for he readily admitted that he would have lent as much,
+had he made the vagabond's acquaintance under any other circumstances.</p>
+
+<p>But the Count, since Akulina had expressed herself with so much force
+and precision, could not look upon the affair in the same light. However
+Fischelowitz regarded it, Akulina had made it clear that the Count ought
+to be held responsible for the loss, and it was not in the nature of
+such a man, no matter how wretched his own estate, to submit to the
+imputation of being concerned in borrowing money which was never to be
+repaid. His natural impulse had been to promise repayment instantly, and
+as he was expecting to be turned into a rich man on the morrow the
+engagement seemed an easy one to keep. It would be more difficult to
+explain why he wanted to take away the broken puppet with him. Possibly
+he felt that in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> removing it from the shop, he was taking with it even
+the memory of the transaction of which the blame had been so bitterly
+thrown on him; or, possibly, he was really attached to the toy for its
+associations, or, lastly, he may have felt impelled to save it from
+Akulina's destroying wrath, so far as it yet could be said to be saved.</p>
+
+<p>As has been said, he had not dined on that day, and he would very
+probably have forgotten to eat, even after being reminded of the meal by
+the tobacconist, had he not passed, on his way homeward, the obscure
+restaurant in which he and the other men who worked for Fischelowitz
+were accustomed to get their food and drink. This fifth-rate
+eating-house rejoiced in the attractive name of the "Green Wreath," a
+designation painted in large dusty green Gothic letters upon the grey
+walls of the dilapidated house in which it was situated. There are not
+to be found in respectable Munich those dens of filth and drunkenness
+which belong to greater cities whose vices are in proportion greater
+also. In Munich the strength of fiery spirits is drowned in oceans of
+mild beer, a liquid of which the head will stand more than the waistband
+and which, instead of exciting to crime, predisposes the consumer to
+peaceful and lengthened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> sleep. The worst that can be said of the poorer
+public-houses in Munich, is that they are frequented by the poorer
+people, and that as the customers bring less money than elsewhere, there
+is less drinking in proportion, and a greater demand for large
+quantities of very filling food at very low rates. As a general rule,
+such places are clean and decently kept, and the sight of a drunken man
+in the public room would excite very considerable astonishment, besides
+entailing upon the culprit a summary expulsion into the street and a
+rather forcible injunction not to repeat the offence.</p>
+
+<p>The four windows of the establishment which opened upon the narrow
+street were open, for the weather had become sultry even out of doors,
+and the guests wanted fresh air. At one of these windows the Count saw
+the heads of Dumnoff and Schmidt. With the instinct of the poor man, the
+Count felt in his pocket to see whether he had any money, and was
+somewhat disturbed to find but a solitary piece of silver, feebly
+supported on either side by a couple of one-penny pieces. He had
+forgotten that he had refused to accept his pay for the day's work, and
+it required an effort of memory to account for the low state of his
+funds. But what he had with him was sufficient for his wants, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>
+settling his parcel under his arm he ascended the three or four steps
+which gave access to the inn, and entered the public room. Besides the
+Russian and the Cossack, there were three public porters seated at the
+next table, dressed in their blue blouses, their red cloth caps hanging
+on the pegs over their heads, all silent and similarly engaged. Each had
+before him a piece of that national cheese of which the smell may almost
+be heard, each had lately received a thick, irregularly-shaped hunch of
+dark bread, and they had one pot of beer and one salt-cellar amongst
+them. They all had honest German faces, honest blue eyes, horny hands
+and round shoulders. Another table, in a far corner, was occupied by a
+poorly-dressed old woman in black, dusty and evidently tired. A covered
+basket stood on a chair at her elbow, she was eating an
+unwholesome-looking "kn&ouml;del" or boiled potato ball, and half a pint of
+beer stood before her still untouched. As for the Cossack and Dumnoff,
+they had finished their meal. The former was smoking a cigarette through
+a mouth-piece made by boring out the well-dried leg-bone of a chicken
+and was drinking nothing. Dumnoff had before him a small glass of the
+common whisky known as "corn-brandy" and was trying to give it a flavour
+resembling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> the vodka of his native land by stirring pepper into it with
+the blade of an old pocket-knife. Both looked up, without betraying any
+surprise, as the Count entered and sat himself down at the end of their
+oblong table, facing the open window and with his back to the room. A
+word of greeting passed on each side and the two relapsed into silence,
+while the Count ordered a sausage "with horse-radish" of the sour-sweet
+maiden of five-and-thirty who waited on the guests. The Cossack, always
+observant of such things, looked at the oddly-shaped package which the
+Count had brought with him, trying to divine its contents and signally
+failing in the attempt. Dumnoff, who did not like the Count's
+gentlemanlike manners and fine speech, sullenly stirred the fiery
+mixture he was concocting. The colour on his prominent cheek-bones was a
+little brighter than before supper, but otherwise it was impossible to
+say that he was the worse for the half-pint of spirits he had certainly
+absorbed since leaving his work. The man's strong peasant nature was
+proof against far greater excesses than his purse could afford.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the news?" inquired Johann Schmidt, still eyeing the bundle
+curiously, and doubtless hoping that the Count would soon inform him of
+the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> contents. But the latter saw the look and glanced suspiciously at
+the questioner.</p>
+
+<p>"No news, that I know of," he answered. "Except for me," he added, after
+a pause, and looking dreamily out of the window at a street lamp that
+was burning opposite. "To-morrow, at this time, I shall be off."</p>
+
+<p>"And where are you going?" asked the Cossack, good-humouredly. "Are you
+going for long, if I may ask?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;yes. I shall never come back to Munich." He had been speaking in
+German, but noticing that the other guests in the room were silent, and
+thinking that they might listen, he broke off into Russian. "I shall go
+home, at last," he said, his face brightening perceptibly as his visions
+of wealth again rose before his eyes. "I shall go home and rest myself
+for a long time in the country, and then, next winter, perhaps, I will
+go to Petersburg."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, I wish you a pleasant journey," said Schmidt. "So there is
+to be no mistake about the fortune this time?"</p>
+
+<p>"This time?" repeated the Count, as though not understanding. "Why do
+you say this time?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because you have so often expected it before," returned the Cossack
+bluntly, but without malice.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I do not remember ever saying so," said the other, evidently searching
+among his recollections.</p>
+
+<p>"Every Tuesday," growled Dumnoff, sipping his peppery liquor. "Every
+Tuesday since I can remember."</p>
+
+<p>"I think you must be mistaken," said the Count, politely.</p>
+
+<p>Dumnoff grunted something quite incomprehensible, and which might have
+been taken for the clearing of his huge throat after the inflaming
+draught. The Cossack was silent, and his bright eyes looked pityingly at
+his companion.</p>
+
+<p>"And you have begun to put together your parcels for the journey, I
+see," he observed after a time, when the Count had got his morsel of
+food and was beginning to eat it. His curiosity gave him no rest.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," answered the Count, mysteriously. "That is something which I
+shall probably take with me, as a remembrance of Munich."</p>
+
+<p>"I should not have thought that you needed anything more than a
+cigarette to remind you of the place," remarked Dumnoff.</p>
+
+<p>The Count smiled faintly, for, considering Dumnoff's natural dulness,
+the remark had a savour of wit in it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That is true," he said. "But there are other things which could remind
+me even more forcibly of my exile."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what is it? Tell us!" cried Dumnoff, impatiently enough, but
+somewhat softened by the Count's appreciation of his humour. At the same
+time he put out his broad red hand in the direction of the parcel as
+though he would see for himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Let it be!" said Schmidt sharply, and Dumnoff withdrew his hand again.
+He had fallen into the habit of always doing what the Cossack told him
+to do, obeying mutely, like a well-trained dog, though he obeyed no one
+else. The descendant of freemen instinctively lorded it over the
+descendant of the serf, and the latter as instinctively submitted.</p>
+
+<p>The Count's temper, however, was singularly changeable on this day, for
+he did not seem to resent Dumnoff's meditated attack upon the package,
+as he would certainly have done under ordinary circumstances.</p>
+
+<p>"If you are so very curious to know what it is, I will tell you," he
+said. "You know the Wiener Gigerl?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," answered both men together.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that is it, in that parcel."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The Gigerl!" exclaimed the Cossack. Dumnoff only opened his small eyes
+in stupid amazement. Both knew something of the circumstances under
+which Fischelowitz had come into possession of the doll, and both knew
+what store the tobacconist set by it.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you have paid the fifty marks?" asked Schmidt, whose curiosity was
+roused instead of satisfied.</p>
+
+<p>"No. I shall pay the money to-morrow. I have promised to do so. As it
+chances, it will be convenient." The Count smiled to himself in a
+meaning way, as though already enjoying the triumph of laying the gold
+pieces upon the counter under Akulina's flat nose.</p>
+
+<p>"And yet Fischelowitz has already given it to you! He must be very sure
+of you&mdash;" With his usual lack of tact, Schmidt had gone further than he
+meant to do, but the transaction savoured of the marvellous.</p>
+
+<p>"To be strictly truthful," said the Count, who had a Quixotic fear of
+misleading in the smallest degree any one to whom he was speaking, "to
+be exactly honest, there is a circumstance which makes it less
+remarkable that Fischelowitz should have given me the doll at once."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Of course, of course!" exclaimed the Cossack, anxious to appear
+credulous out of kindness. "Fischelowitz knows as well as you do
+yourself how safe you are to get the money to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Naturally," replied the Count, with great calmness. "But besides that,
+the Gigerl is broken&mdash;badly broken in the middle, and the musical box is
+spoiled too."</p>
+
+<p>"Fischelowitz must have been very angry," observed Dumnoff.</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all. It was his wife. Akulina knocked it from the counter into
+the farthest corner of the shop."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell us all about it," said Schmidt, more interested than ever.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, that&mdash;that is quite another matter," answered the Count, reddening
+perceptibly as he remembered Akulina's furious abuse.</p>
+
+<p>"If you do not, I have no doubt that she will," said Dumnoff, taking
+another sip. "She always gives the news of you, before you come in the
+morning, before we have made our first hundred."</p>
+
+<p>The Count grew redder still, the angry colour mantling in his lean
+cheeks. He hesitated a moment, and then made up his mind.</p>
+
+<p>"If that is likely to happen," he cried, "I had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> better tell you the
+truth myself, instead of giving her an opportunity of distorting it."</p>
+
+<p>"Much better," said the Cossack, eagerly. "One can believe you better
+than her."</p>
+
+<p>"That is true, at all events," chimed in Dumnoff, who was only brutal
+and never malicious.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it happened in this way. Fischelowitz and I were talking of
+to-morrow, I think, when she came in from the back shop, having
+overheard something we had been saying. Of course she immediately took
+advantage of my presence to exercise her wit upon me, a proceeding to
+which I have grown accustomed, seeing that she is only a woman. Then
+Fischelowitz told her to choose her language, and that started her
+afresh. It was rather a fine specimen of chosen language that she gave
+us, for she has a good command of our beautiful mother-tongue. She found
+very strong words, and she said among other things that it was my fault
+that her husband had got a Wiener Gigerl for fifty marks of good money.
+And then Fischelowitz, in his easy way and while she was talking, wound
+the doll up and set it before him on the counter and smiled at it. But
+she went on, worse than before, and called me everything under the sun.
+Of course I could do nothing but wait until she had finished, for I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>
+could not beat her, and I would not let her think that she could drive
+me away by mere talk, bad as it was."</p>
+
+<p>"What did she call you?" asked Dumnoff, with a grin.</p>
+
+<p>"She called me a good-for-nothing," said the Count, reddening with anger
+again, so that the veins stood out on his throat above his collar. "And
+she called me, I think, an adventurer."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that all?" laughed Dumnoff. "I have been called by worse names than
+that in my time!"</p>
+
+<p>"I have not," answered the Count, with sudden coolness. "However,
+between me and Fischelowitz and the Gigerl, she grew so angry that she
+struck the only one of us three against whom she dared lift hand. That
+member of the company chanced to be the unfortunate doll. And then I
+promised that to-morrow I would pay the money, and I made Fischelowitz
+give it to me in a piece of newspaper, and there it is."</p>
+
+<p>"What a terrible smash there must have been in the shop!" said Dumnoff.
+"I would like to have seen the lady's face."</p>
+
+<p>In their Russian speech, the difference between the original social
+standing of the three men who now worked as equals, was well defined by
+their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> way of speaking of Fischelowitz's wife. To Dumnoff, mujik by
+origin and by nature, she was "barina," the town "lady," to the Cossack
+she was "chosjaika," the "mistress," the wife of the "patron"&mdash;to the
+Count she was Akulina, and when he addressed her he called her Akulina
+Feodorovna, adding the derivative of her father's name in accordance
+with the universal Russian custom.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us see the doll," said Schmidt, still curious. The Count, whose
+eating had been interrupted by the telling of his story, pushed the
+parcel towards the Cossack with one hand, while using his fork with the
+other.</p>
+
+<p>Johann Schmidt carefully unwrapped the newspaper and exposed the
+unfortunate Gigerl to view. Then with both hands he set it up before
+him, raising the limp figure from the waist, and trying to put it into
+position, until it almost recovered something of its old look of
+insolence, though the eye-glass was broken and the little white hat
+sadly battered. The three men contemplated it in silence, and the other
+guests turned curious glances towards it. Dumnoff, as usual, laughed
+hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p>"Rather the worse for wear," he observed.</p>
+
+<p>"Kreuzmillionendonnerwetter! That is my Gigerl!" roared a deep German
+voice across the room.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The three Russians started and looked round quickly. One of the porters,
+a burly man with an angry scowl on his honest face, was already on his
+legs and was striding towards the table.</p>
+
+<p>"That is my Gigerl!" he repeated, laying one heavy hand upon the board,
+and thrusting the forefinger of the other under the doll's nose.</p>
+
+<p>Dumnoff stared at him with an expression which showed that he did not in
+the least understand what was happening. Johann Schmidt's keen black
+eyes looked wonderingly from the porter to the Count, while the latter
+leaned back in his chair, contemplating the angry man with a calm
+surprise which proved how little faith he placed in the assertion of
+possession.</p>
+
+<p>"You are under a mistake," he said, with great politeness. "This doll is
+the property of Herr Fischelowitz, the well-known tobacconist, and has
+stood in the window of his shop nearly four months. These gentlemen"&mdash;he
+waved his hand towards his two companions&mdash;"are well aware of the fact
+and can vouch&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That is all the same to me," interrupted the porter. "This is the
+Gigerl which was stolen from me on New Year's eve&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I repeat," said the Count, with dignity, "that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> you are altogether
+mistaken. I will trouble you to leave us in peace and to make no more
+disturbance, where you are evidently in error."</p>
+
+<p>His coolness exasperated the porter, who seemed very sure of what he
+asserted.</p>
+
+<p>"That is what we shall see," he retorted in a menacing tone. "Meanwhile
+it does not occur to me to leave you in peace and to make no more
+trouble. I tell you that this Gigerl was stolen from me on New Year's
+eve. I know it well enough, for I had to pay for it."</p>
+
+<p>"How can you prove that this is the one?" inquired the Cossack, who was
+beginning to lose his temper.</p>
+
+<p>"You have nothing to say about it," said the porter, sharply. "I have to
+do with this man"&mdash;he pointed down at the Count&mdash;"who has brought the
+doll here, and pretends to know where it comes from."</p>
+
+<p>"Kerl!" exclaimed the Count, angrily. "Fellow! I am not accustomed to
+being called 'man,' or to having my word doubted. You had better be
+civil."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it is high time that you grew used to it," returned the porter,
+growing more and more excited. "The police do not overwhelm fellows of
+your kind with politeness."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Fellows?" cried the Count, losing his self-control altogether at being
+called by the name he had just applied to the porter. Without a moment's
+hesitation, he sprang from his chair, upsetting it behind him, and took
+the burly German by the throat.</p>
+
+<p>"Call a policeman, Anton!" shouted the latter to one of his companions,
+as he closed with his antagonist.</p>
+
+<p>The two other porters had risen from their places as soon as the Count
+had laid his hands on their friend, and the one who answered to the name
+of Anton promptly trotted towards the door, his heavy tread making the
+whole room shake as he ran. The other came up quickly and attacked the
+Count from behind, when Dumnoff, aroused at last to the pleasant
+consciousness that a real fight was going on, brought down his clenched
+fist with such earnestness of purpose on the top of the second porter's
+crown that the latter reeled backwards and fell across the Count's chair
+in an attitude rendered highly uncomfortable by the fact that the said
+chair had been turned upside down at the beginning of the contest.
+Having satisfied himself that the blow had taken effect, Dumnoff
+proceeded to the other side of the field of battle, avoiding the
+quickly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> moving bodies of the Count and the porter as they wrestled with
+each other, and the mujik prepared to deal another sledge-hammer blow,
+in all respects comparable with the first. A pleasant smile beamed and
+spread over his broad, bony face as he lifted his fist, and it is
+comparatively certain that he would have put an effectual end to the
+struggle, had not Schmidt interfered with the execution of his amiable
+intentions by catching his arm in mid-air. Even the Cossack's wiry
+strength could not arrest the descent of the tremendous fist, but he
+succeeded at least in diverting it from its aim, so that it took effect
+in the middle of the porter's back, knocking most of the wind out of the
+man's body and causing a diversion favourable to the Count's security.
+Schmidt sprang in and separated the combatants.</p>
+
+<p>"There has been enough dancing already," he said, coolly, as he faced
+the porter, who was gasping for breath. "But if you have not danced
+enough, I shall be happy to take a turn with you round the room."</p>
+
+<p>The poor Count would, indeed, have been no match for his adversary
+without the assistance of his friends. He possessed that sort of courage
+which, when stung into activity by an insult, takes no account whatever
+of the consequences, and his thin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> frame was animated by very excitable
+nerves. But an exceedingly lean diet, and the habit of sitting during
+many hours in a close atmosphere, rolling tobacco with his fingers, did
+not constitute such a physical training as to make him a match for a
+rough fellow whose occupation consisted in tramping long distances and
+up and down long flights of stairs from morning till night, loaded with
+more or less heavy burdens. He was now very pale and his heart beat
+painfully as he endeavoured instinctively to smooth his long frock-coat,
+from which a button had been torn out by the roots in a very apparent
+place, and to settle his starched collar, which at the best of times
+owed its stability to the secret virtues of a pin, and which at present
+had made a quarter of a revolution upon itself, so that the
+stiffly-starched corners, the Count's chief coquetry and pride, had
+established themselves in an unseemly manner immediately below the left
+ear.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, the little restaurant was in an uproar. The host, a thin,
+pale man in an apron and a shabby embroidered cap, had suddenly appeared
+from the depths of the taproom, accompanied by his wife, a monstrous,
+red-faced creature clothed in a grey flannel frock. The porter whom
+Dumnoff had felled, and who was not altogether stunned, was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> kicking
+violently in the attempt to gain his feet among the fallen chairs, a
+dozen people had come in from the street at the noise of the fight and
+stood near the door, phlegmatically watching the proceedings, and the
+poor old woman from the country, who had been supping in the corner, had
+got her basket on her knees, holding its handle tightly in one hand and
+with the other grasping her half-finished glass of beer, in terror lest
+some accident should cause the precious liquid to be spilled, but not
+calm enough to put it in a place of safety by the simple process of
+swallowing.</p>
+
+<p>"They are foreigners," remarked some one in the crowd at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"They are probably Bohemian journeymen," said a tinman who stood in
+front of the others. "It serves them right for interfering with an
+honest porter." The Bohemian journeymen are detested in Munich on
+account of their willingness to work for low prices, which perhaps
+accounted for the tinman's readiness to consider the strangers as
+worsted in the contest.</p>
+
+<p>"We Germans fear God, and nothing else in the world," observed a
+mealy-faced shoemaker, quoting Prince Bismarck's famous speech.</p>
+
+<p>The man who had wrestled with the Count seemed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> to have resigned himself
+to the course of awaiting the police, and leaned back against the table
+behind him, with folded arms, glaring at the Cossack, while the Count
+was vainly attempting to recover possession of the pin which had
+fastened his collar, and which he evidently suspected of having slipped
+down his back, with the total depravity peculiar to all inanimate things
+when they are most needed. But the second porter, having broken the
+chair, upset a table covered with unused saucers for beer glasses, and
+otherwise materially contributing to swell the din and increase the
+already considerable havoc, had regained his feet and lost no time in
+making for Dumnoff. The Russian, enchanted at the prospect of a renewal
+of hostilities so unfortunately interrupted, met the newcomer half-way,
+and, each embracing the other with cheerful alacrity, the two heavy men
+began to stamp and turn round and round with each other like a couple of
+particularly awkward bears attempting to waltz together. They were very
+evenly matched for a wrestling bout, for although the German was by a
+couple of inches the taller of the two, the Russian had the advantage in
+breadth of shoulder and length of arm, as well as in the enormous
+strength of his back. The Cossack, having assured himself that there was
+to be fair-play,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> watched the proceedings with evident interest, while
+the pale-faced host shambled round and round the room, imploring the
+combatants to respect the reputation of his house and to desist, while
+keeping himself at a safe distance from possible collision with the
+bodies of the two, as they staggered and strained, and reeled and
+whirled about.</p>
+
+<p>The Count at last abandoned the search of the lost pin, and having
+pulled the front of his collar into a more normal position trusted to
+luck to keep it there. The table at which the three had originally sat
+had miraculously escaped upsetting, and on it lay the poor Gigerl,
+stretched at full length on its back, calm and smiling in the midst of
+the noise and confusion, like the corpse at an Irish wake after the
+whisky has begun to take effect.</p>
+
+<p>The Count now thought it necessary to justify the unfortunate situation
+in which he found himself, in the judgment of the spectators.</p>
+
+<p>"Gentlemen," he began, very earnestly and with a dignified gesture, "I
+feel it necessary to explain the truth of this&mdash;" But he was interrupted
+by the arrival of a policeman, who pushed his way through the crowd.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="r9884" id="r9884"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>"What is this row?" inquired the policeman in his official voice, as he
+marched into the room.</p>
+
+<p>The man who was wrestling with Dumnoff was a German and a soldier. At
+the authoritative words he relaxed his hold and made an effort to free
+himself, a movement of which the Russian instantly took advantage by
+throwing his adversary heavily, upsetting another table and thereby
+bringing the confusion to its crisis. How far he would have gone if he
+had been left to himself is uncertain, for the sudden appearance of two
+more men in green coats, helmets and gold collars so emboldened the
+spectators of the fight that they advanced in a body just as Dumnoff
+threw himself upon the first policeman. The Russian's red face was wet
+with perspiration, his small eyes were gleaming ferociously and his
+thick hair hung in tangled locks over his forehead, producing with his
+fair beard the appearance of a wild animal's mane. But for the timely
+assistance of his colleagues, the representatives of the law, and, most
+likely the majority of the spectators<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> would have found themselves in
+the street in an exceedingly short space of time. But Dumnoff yielded to
+the inevitable; a couple of well-planted blows delivered by the rescuing
+party on the sides of his thick skull made him shake his head as a cat
+does when its nose is sprinkled with water, and the mujik reluctantly
+relinquished the struggle. At the same time the porter who had claimed
+the doll came forward and touched his bare head with a military salute.</p>
+
+<p>"What is your name?" asked the first policeman, anxious to get to
+business.</p>
+
+<p>"Jacob Goggelmann, Dienstmann number 87, formerly private in the Fourth
+Artillery, lately messenger in the Th&uuml;ringer Doll Manufactory."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good," said the policeman, anxious to take the side of his
+countryman from the first, and certainly justified in doing so by the
+circumstances. "And what is your complaint?"</p>
+
+<p>"That doll, there, on the table," said the porter, "was stolen from me
+on New Year's eve, and now that man"&mdash;he pointed to the Count, who stood
+stiffly looking on&mdash;"that man has got possession of it."</p>
+
+<p>"And who stole it from you?" inquired the policeman with that acuteness
+in the art of cross-examination<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> for which the police are in all
+countries so justly famous.</p>
+
+<p>"Ja, Herr Wachtmeister, if I had known that&mdash;" suggested the porter.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, of course," interrupted the other. "That man stole the doll
+from you, you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Somebody stole it with my basket, as I stopped to drink a measure in
+the yard of the Hofbr&auml;uhaus, and I had to pay for it out of my caution
+money, and I lost my place into the bargain, and there lies the accursed
+thing."</p>
+
+<p>The policeman, apparently quite satisfied with the porter's story,
+turned upon the Count with a blustering and overbearing manner.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, then," he said, roughly, "give an account of yourself. Who are you
+and what are you doing here? But that is a foolish question; I know
+already that you are a Bohemian and a journeyman tinker."</p>
+
+<p>"A Bohemian? And a journeyman tinker?" repeated the Count, almost
+speechless with anger for a moment. "I am neither," he added,
+endeavouring to control himself, and settling his refractory collar with
+one hand. "I am a Russian gentleman."</p>
+
+<p>"A gentleman&mdash;and a Russian," said the policeman, slowly, as though
+putting no faith in the first<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> statement and very little in the second.
+"I think I can provide you with a lodging for the night," he added,
+facetiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Slip past me, jump out of the window and run!" whispered the Cossack in
+the Count's ear, in Russian.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you saying in your infernal language?" asked the official.</p>
+
+<p>"My friend advised me to run away," said the Count, coolly sitting down,
+as though he were master of the situation. "Unfortunately for me, I was
+not taught to use my legs in that way when I was a boy."</p>
+
+<p>"I was," said the Cossack. "Good-evening, Master Policeman." He took his
+hat from the peg on the wall where it had hung undisturbed throughout
+the confusion, and bowing gravely to the man in uniform made as though
+he would go out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>"So, so, not quite so fast, my friend," said the policeman, putting
+himself in the way. "Heigh! heigh! Stop him! Don't let him go," he
+bawled, a second later.</p>
+
+<p>Schmidt had paused a minute, watching his opportunity, then, taking a
+quick step backwards, he had vaulted through the open window with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>
+agility of a cat, and was flying down the empty street at the speed only
+attainable by that deceptive domestic animal when pressed for time and
+anxious for its own safety.</p>
+
+<p>"Sob&aacute;ka!" growled Domnoff, disgusted at his companion's defection.</p>
+
+<p>"Either talk in a language that human beings can understand, or do not
+talk at all," said one of the two men who guarded him.</p>
+
+<p>Seeing that pursuit was useless, the spokesman of the police turned to
+the Count, twice as blustering and terrible as before.</p>
+
+<p>"This settles the question," he said. "To the police station you go, you
+and your bear-man of an accomplice. Potzbombardendonnerwetter! You
+Sappermentskerls! I will teach you to resist the police, to steal dolls
+and to jump out of windows! Now then, right about face&mdash;march!"</p>
+
+<p>The Count did not stir from his chair. Dumnoff looked at him as though
+to ask instructions of a superior.</p>
+
+<p>"If you can manage one of them, I can take these two," he said in
+Russian. Suiting the action to the word, he suddenly bent down, slipped
+his arms round the legs of the two policemen, hurled them simultaneously
+head over heels and then charged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> the crowd, head downwards, upsetting
+every one who came in his way, and bursting into the street by sheer
+superior weight and impetus. An instant later, his shock head appeared
+at the window through which the Cossack had escaped.</p>
+
+<p>"Come along!" he shouted to the Count, in his own language. "I have
+locked the street door and they cannot get out. Jump through the
+window."</p>
+
+<p>"Go, my friend," answered the Count, calmly. "I will not run away."</p>
+
+<p>"You had much better come," insisted Dumnoff, apparently indifferent to
+the noise of the crowd as it tried to force open the closed door, and
+shaking off two or three men who had made their way out into the street
+with him. He held the key in one hand, and his assailants had small
+chance of getting it away.</p>
+
+<p>"You will not come?" he repeated. But the Count shook his head, within
+the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I will not run away either," said Dumnoff, the good side of his
+dull nature showing itself at last. With the utmost indifference to
+consequences he returned to the door, unlocked it, and strode through
+the midst of the people, who made way readily enough before him, after
+their late painful experience of his manner of making way for himself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I have changed my mind," he said, in German, quietly placing himself
+between his late keepers, who were alternately rubbing themselves and
+brushing the dust off each other's clothes after their tumble.</p>
+
+<p>In the astonished silence which succeeded Dumnoff's return, the Count's
+voice was heard again.</p>
+
+<p>"I am both anxious and ready to explain everything, if you will do me
+the civility to listen," he said. "The doll is the property of Herr
+Fischelowitz, the well-known tobacconist&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We shall see presently what you have to say for yourself," interrupted
+the policeman. "We have had enough of these devilish fellows. Come, put
+them in handcuffs and off with them. And you three gentlemen," he added,
+turning to the three porters, "will have the goodness to accompany us to
+the station, in order to give your evidence."</p>
+
+<p>"But my furniture and my beer saucers!" exclaimed the pallid host,
+suddenly remembering his losses. "Who is to pay for them?"</p>
+
+<p>The Count answered the question for him.</p>
+
+<p>"You, Master Host, who know us and have had our regular custom for
+years, but who have not dared to say a word in our defence throughout
+this disgraceful affair, you, I say, deserve to lose all that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> you have
+lost. Nevertheless, I can assure you that I will myself pay for what has
+been broken."</p>
+
+<p>The host was not much consoled by this magnanimous promise, which was
+received with jeers by the crowd. There was no time, however, to discuss
+the question. Dumnoff had quietly submitted his two huge fists to the
+handcuffs and a second pair was produced, to fit the Count. At this
+indignity he drew himself up proudly.</p>
+
+<p>"Have I resisted the authority, or attempted to run away?" he inquired
+with flashing eyes.</p>
+
+<p>The policeman had nothing to say to this very just question.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I advise you to consider what you are doing. In spite of my
+appearance, which, I admit, is at present somewhat disorderly, I am a
+Russian nobleman, as you will discover so soon as I am submitted to a
+properly conducted examination in the presence of your officers. I have
+not the least intention of running away, and if this doll was stolen, I
+was not connected in any way with the theft. Since I respect the
+authorities, I insist upon being respected by them, and if I am treated
+in a degrading manner in spite of my protests, there are those in Munich
+who will bring the case to proper notice in my own country. I am ready
+to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> accompany you quietly wherever you choose to show me the way."</p>
+
+<p>Something in his manner impressed the officials with the possible truth
+of his words. They looked at each other and nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said the one who was conducting the arrest.</p>
+
+<p>"Moreover," said the Count, "I crave permission to carry myself the
+object of contention, until the other claimant has established his right
+of possession."</p>
+
+<p>So saying the Count took the broken Gigerl from the table where it lay,
+and carrying it upon his hands before him, like a baby, he solemnly
+walked in the direction of the door, thus heading the procession, which
+was accompanied into the street by the idlers who had collected inside.</p>
+
+<p>"God be thanked," said the old woman in the corner devoutly, "I have yet
+my beer!"</p>
+
+<p>"And to think that only one of them has paid for his supper," moaned the
+pale-faced innkeeper, sitting down upon a chair and contemplating the
+wreck of his belongings with a haggard eye. The "Gigerl-night" was
+remembered for many a long year in the "Green Wreath Inn."</p>
+
+<p>At the police station the arresting party told their own story in their
+own way, very much to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> disadvantage of the Russians and very much in
+favour of the porters and of the officials themselves. The latter,
+indeed, enlarged so much upon the atrocities perpetrated by Dumnoff as
+to weary the superior officer. The Cossack having escaped, the policemen
+did not mention him. The officer glanced at Dumnoff.</p>
+
+<p>"Your name?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Victor Ivanowitch Dumnoff."</p>
+
+<p>"Occupation?"</p>
+
+<p>"Cigarette-maker in the manufactory of Christian Fischelowitz."</p>
+
+<p>"Lock him up," said the officer. "Resisting the police in the execution
+of an arrest," he added, speaking to the scribe at his elbow.</p>
+
+<p>"Your name?" continued he, addressing the Count. "Boris Michaelovitch,
+Count Skariatine."</p>
+
+<p>"Count?" repeated the officer. "We shall see. Occupation?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have been occupied in the manufacture of cigarettes," answered the
+Count. "But as I was only engaged in this during a period of temporary
+embarrassment from which I shall be relieved to-morrow, I may be
+described as having no particular occupation."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The officer stared incredulously for a moment and then nodded to the
+scribe in token that he was to write down what was said.</p>
+
+<p>"Charged with having stolen a doll, is that it?" He turned to the
+policeman in charge.</p>
+
+<p>"Jawohl, Herr Hauptmann."</p>
+
+<p>"May it please you, Herr Hauptmann, I did not say that," put in the
+porter, coming forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"The man from whom the doll was stolen. Jacob Goggelmann, Dienstmann
+number 87, formerly private in the Fourth Artillery, lately messenger in
+the Th&uuml;ringer Doll Manufactory."</p>
+
+<p>"When was the doll stolen?"</p>
+
+<p>"Last New Year's eve," answered the porter.</p>
+
+<p>"And you have not seen it until to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Herr Hauptmann."</p>
+
+<p>"Then how do you know it is the same one? I suppose it is not the only
+doll of its kind in Munich."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure of it. I was a messenger in the shop, Herr Hauptmann, and I
+knew everything there, just as though I had been one of the young ladies
+who serve the customers. Besides, you will find my name written in
+pencil under the pedestal."</p>
+
+<p>"That is another matter," said the officer, taking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> the Gigerl and
+holding it upside down to the gaslight. The reversing of the thing's
+natural position produced some mysterious effect upon the musical box,
+and the tune which had been so rudely interrupted by Akulina's
+well-aimed blow, suddenly began again from the point at which it had
+stopped, continuing for a few bars and then coming to an end with a
+sharp twang and a little click. The policemen tittered audibly, and even
+the captain smiled faintly in his big yellow beard. Then he knit his
+brows as he deciphered something which was written on the pinewood under
+the base.</p>
+
+<p>"You should have said so at once," he observed. "Your name is there, as
+you assert."</p>
+
+<p>"It was written to show that I was to take it. I had it in a basket with
+other things. I put it down a moment in the yard of the Hofbr&auml;uhaus, and
+when I came back the basket was gone."</p>
+
+<p>"And what do you know about it?" The question was addressed to the
+Count.</p>
+
+<p>"Seeing that the porter is evidently right," said the Count, covering
+with his hat the point from which the button had been torn, and holding
+the other hand rather nervously to his throat, as though trying to keep
+himself from falling to pieces, "I have nothing more to say. I will not
+be accused of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> inculpating any one in this disastrous affair. I will
+only say that the doll has stood since early in the year in the show
+window of Christian Fischelowitz, the tobacconist, who certainly had no
+knowledge of the way in which it was obtained by the person who brought
+it to him."</p>
+
+<p>"He is an extremely respectable person," observed the officer. "If you
+can prove what you say, I will not detain you further. Have you any
+witness here?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is Herr Dumnoff," said the Count. The officer smiled and
+perpetrated an official jest.</p>
+
+<p>"Herr Dumnoff has given evidence of great strength, but owing to his
+peculiar situation at the present time, I cannot trust to the strength
+of his evidence."</p>
+
+<p>The policemen laughed respectfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you no one else?" asked the officer.</p>
+
+<p>"Herr Fischelowitz will willingly vouch for what I say."</p>
+
+<p>"At this hour, Herr Fischelowitz is doubtless asleep, and would
+certainly be justified in refusing to come here out of mere
+complaisance. I am afraid, Count Skariatine, that I must have the honour
+of being your host until morning."</p>
+
+<p>"It is impossible to describe our relative positions<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> with greater
+courtesy," answered the Count, gravely, and not taking the least notice
+of the officer's ironical tone. The latter looked at the speaker
+curiously and then suddenly changed his manner. He was convinced that he
+was speaking with a gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>"I regret that I am obliged to put you to such inconvenience," he said,
+politely. "Treat the gentleman with every consideration," he added,
+addressing the policemen in a tone of authority, "and let me have no
+complaints of unnecessary rudeness either."</p>
+
+<p>"I thank you, Herr Hauptmann," said the Count, simply.</p>
+
+<p>Thus was the Count deprived of his liberty on the very eve of his return
+to all the brilliant advantages of wealth and social station. It was
+certainly a most unfortunate train of circumstances which had led him by
+such quick stages from his parting with Vjera to the wooden bench and
+the board pillow of the police-station. It looked as though the Gigerl
+were possessed of an evil spirit determined to work out the Count's
+destruction, as though the wretched adventurer who had first stolen it
+and palmed it off upon Fischelowitz had laid a curse upon it, whereby it
+was destined to breed dissension and strife wherever it remained and to
+the direct injury of whomsoever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> chanced to possess it for the time
+being. It had been the cause of serious disaster to the porter in the
+first instance, it had next represented to Fischelowitz a dead loss in
+money of fifty marks, it had become a thorn in the side to Akulina, it
+had led to one of the most violent quarrels she had ever engaged in with
+her husband, its limp and broken form had cost much broken crockery and
+some broken furniture to the host of the "Green Wreath Inn," had been
+the cause of several ponderous blows dealt and received by Dumnoff, had
+produced the violent fall, upon a hard board floor, of a porter and two
+policemen and had ultimately brought the Count to prison for the night.
+Its value had become very great, for it had been paid for twice over,
+once by the man from whom it had been stolen, by the forfeiture of his
+caution money, and once by Fischelowitz in the sum of fifty marks lent
+to an adventurer; furthermore, the Count had solemnly pledged his word
+as a gentleman to pay for it a third time on the morrow, he having in
+his worldly possession the sum of one silver mark and two German pennies
+at the time of entering into the engagement. The actual sum of money
+paid and promised to be paid on the body of the now ruined Gigerl, now
+amounted, with interest, to more than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> four times its original value,
+thus constituting one of those interesting problems in real and
+comparative value so interesting to the ingenuous political economist,
+who believes that all value can be traced to supply and demand. Now,
+although the Gigerl was but a single doll, the supply of him, so to
+speak, had been surprisingly abundant, and the demand, if represented by
+the desire of any one person concerned to possess him, may be
+represented by the smallest of zeros. The consideration of so intricate
+a question belongs neither to the inventor of fiction nor to the
+historian of facts, and may therefore be abandoned to the political
+economist, who may, perhaps, be said to partake of the nature of both
+while possessing the virtues of neither.</p>
+
+<p>The Count was in prison, therefore, on the eve of his return to
+splendour, and his companion in captivity was Dumnoff the mujik. They
+found themselves in a well-ventilated room, having high grated windows,
+through which the stars were visible, and dimly lighted by a small gas
+flame which burned in a lantern of white ground glass. The place was
+abundantly, if not luxuriously, furnished with flat wooden pallets, each
+having at the head a slanting piece of board supposed to do duty for a
+pillow. Outside the open door a policeman paced the broad<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> passage, a
+man taken from the mounted detachment and whose scabbard and spurs
+clattered and jingled, hour after hour, as he walked. The sound produced
+something half rhythmical, like a broken tune in search of itself, and
+the change of sentinels made no perceptible difference in the regular
+nature of the unceasing noise.</p>
+
+<p>Dumnoff, relieved of his handcuffs, stretched himself upon the pallet
+assigned to him, clasped his hands under the back of his head, and
+stared at the ceiling. The Count sat upon the edge of his board,
+crossing one knee over the other and looking at his nails, or trying to
+look at them in the insufficient light. In some distant part of the
+building a door was occasionally opened and shut, and the slight
+concussion sent long echoes down the stone passages. The Count sighed
+audibly.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not so bad, after all," remarked Dumnoff. "I did not expect to
+end the evening so comfortably."</p>
+
+<p>"It is bad enough," said the Count. He produced a crumpled piece of
+newspaper which contained a little tobacco, and rolled a cigarette
+thoughtfully. "It is bad enough," he repeated as he began to smoke.</p>
+
+<p>"It would have been very easy to get away, if you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> had done like that
+brute of a Schmidt who ran away and left us."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not think Schmidt is a brute," observed the other, blowing a huge
+ring of white smoke out into the dusk.</p>
+
+<p>"I did not think so either. But I had arranged it all very well for you
+to get away&mdash;only you would not. You see, by an accident, the key was
+outside the door, so I kicked the people back and locked it. It would
+have taken a quarter of an hour for them to open it, and if you had only
+jumped&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He turned his head, and glanced at the Count's spare, sinewy figure.</p>
+
+<p>"You are light, too," he continued, "and you could not have hurt
+yourself. I cannot understand why you stayed."</p>
+
+<p>"Dumnoff, my friend," said the Count, gravely, "we look at things in a
+different way. It is my duty to tell you that I think you behaved in the
+most honourable manner, under the circumstances, and I am deeply
+indebted to you for the gallant way in which you came back to stand by
+me, when you were yourself free. In a nobler warfare, such an action
+would have been rewarded with a cross of honour, as it truly deserved.
+It is true, as well, that you were not so intimately connected with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>
+main question at stake, as I was, since it was I who was suspected of
+being in possession of unlawfully gotten goods. You were consequently, I
+think, at liberty to take your freedom if you could get it, without
+consulting your conscience further. Now my position was, and is, very
+different. I do not speak of any personal prejudice against the mere act
+of running away, considered as an immediate means of escape from
+disagreeable circumstances, with the hope of ultimate immunity from all
+unpleasant consequences. That is a matter of early education."</p>
+
+<p>"I had very little early education," observed Dumnoff. "And none at all
+afterwards."</p>
+
+<p>"My friend, it is not for you and me to enter into the history of our
+misfortunes. We have met in the vat of poverty to be seethed alike in
+the brew of unhappiness. We have sat at the same daily labour, we have
+shared often the same fare, but there is that in each of us which we can
+keep sacred from the contamination of confidence, and which will
+withstand even the thrusts of poverty. I mean our individual selves, the
+better part of us, the nobler element which has suffered, as
+distinguished from the grosser, which may yet enjoy. But I am wandering
+a little. I am afraid I sometimes do. I return to the point. For me to
+take advantage of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> your generous attempt to free me would have been to
+act as though I had a moral cause for flight. In other words, it would
+have been to acknowledge that I had committed some dishonourable
+action."</p>
+
+<p>"It seems to me that to get away would have been the best way out of it.
+They would not have caught you if you had trusted to me, and if they did
+not catch you they could not prove anything against you."</p>
+
+<p>"The suspicion would have remained, and the disgrace in my own eyes,"
+answered the Count. "The question of physical fear is very different. I
+have been told that it depends upon the nerves and the action of the
+heart, and that courage is greatly increased by the presence of
+nourishment in the stomach. The same cannot be said of moral bravery,
+which proceeds more from the fear of seeming contemptible in our own
+eyes than from the wish to seem honourable in the estimation of others."</p>
+
+<p>"I daresay," said Dumnoff, who was growing sleepy and who understood
+very little of his companion's homily.</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely," replied the latter. "And yet even the question of physical
+courage is very complicated in the present case. It cannot be said, for
+instance, that you ran away from physical fear, after giving<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> proof of
+such astonishing physical superiority. Your deeds this evening make the
+labours of Hercules dwindle to the proportions of mere mountebank's
+tricks."</p>
+
+<p>"Was anybody badly injured?" asked Dumnoff, suddenly aroused by the
+pleasing recollections of the contest.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe not seriously; I think I saw everybody whom you upset get on
+his feet sooner or later."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Dumnoff with a sigh, "it cannot be helped. I did my best."</p>
+
+<p>"I should think that you would be glad," suggested the Count. "You
+showed your prowess without any fatal result."</p>
+
+<p>"Anything for a change in this dull life," grumbled the peasant with an
+air of dissatisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"With such a prospect of immediate change before me, I suppose I ought
+not to blame your longing for excitement. Nevertheless I consider it
+fortunate that nothing worse happened."</p>
+
+<p>"You might take me with you to Russia," said Dumnoff, with a short
+laugh. "That would be an excitement, at least."</p>
+
+<p>"After the way in which you have stood by me this evening, I will not
+refuse you anything. If you wish it, I will take you with me. I take it
+for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> granted that you are not prevented by any especial reason from
+entering our country."</p>
+
+<p>"Not that I am aware of," laughed Dumnoff. "Do you know how I got to
+Germany? A gentleman from our part of the country brought me with him as
+coachman. One day the horses ran away in Baden-Baden, and he turned me
+out of the house."</p>
+
+<p>"That was very inconsiderate of him," observed the Count.</p>
+
+<p>"It is true that both the horses were killed," said Dumnoff,
+thoughtfully. "And the prince broke his arm, and the carriage was in
+good condition for firewood, and possibly I was a little gay&mdash;just a
+little&mdash;though I was so much upset by the accident that I could not
+remember exactly what happened before. Still&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Your conduct on that particular day seems to have left much to be
+desired," remarked the Count with some austerity.</p>
+
+<p>"It has been my bad luck to be in a great many accidents," said the
+other. "But that one was remarkable. As far as I can recollect, we drove
+into the Grand Duke's four-in-hand on one side and drove out of it on
+the other. I never drove through a Grand Duke's equipage on any other
+occasion. It was lucky that his Serenity did not happen to be in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> it
+just at the time. There you have my history in a nutshell. As you say
+you will take me with you, I thought you ought to know."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, certainly," answered the Count, vaguely. "I will take you
+with me&mdash;but not as coachman, I think, Dumnoff. We may find some more
+favourable sphere for your great physical strength."</p>
+
+<p>"Anything you like. It is a good joke to dream of such a journey, is it
+not? Especially when one is locked up for the night in the
+police-station."</p>
+
+<p>"It is certainly a relief to contemplate the prospect of such a change
+to-morrow," said the Count, his expression brightening in the gloom.</p>
+
+<p>For a few moments there was silence between the two men. Dumnoff's small
+eyes fixed themselves on the shadowy outlines of his companion's face,
+as though trying to solve a problem far too complicated for his dull
+intellect.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder whether you are really mad," he said slowly, after a prolonged
+mental effort.</p>
+
+<p>The Count started slightly and stared at the ex-coachman with a
+frightened look.</p>
+
+<p>"Mad?" he repeated, nervously. "Who says I am mad? Why do you ask the
+question?"</p>
+
+<p>"Most people say so," replied the other, evidently<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> without any
+intention of giving pain. "Everybody who works with us thinks so."</p>
+
+<p>"Everybody? Everybody? I think you are dreaming, Dumnoff. What do you
+mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean that they think so because you have those queer fits of
+believing yourself a rich count every week, from Tuesday night till
+Thursday morning. Schmidt was saying only yesterday to poor Vjera&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Vjera? Does she believe it too?" asked the Count in an unsteady voice,
+not heeding the rest of the speech.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," said Dumnoff, carelessly. "Schmidt was saying to me only
+yesterday that you were going to have a worse attack of it than usual
+because you were so silent."</p>
+
+<p>"Vjera, too!" repeated the Count in a low voice. "And no one ever told
+me&mdash;" He passed his hand over his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me"&mdash;Dumnoff began in the tone of jocular familiarity which he
+considered confidential&mdash;"tell me&mdash;the whole thing is just a joke of
+yours to amuse us all, is it not? You do not really believe that you are
+a count, any more than I really believe that you are mad, you know. You
+do not act like a madman, except when you let the police<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> catch you and
+lock you up for the night, instead of running away like a sensible man."</p>
+
+<p>The Count's face grew bright again all at once. In the present state of
+his hopes no form of doubt seemed able to take a permanent hold of him.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I am not mad," he said. "But on the other hand, Dumnoff, it is my
+conviction that you are exceedingly drunk. No other hypothesis can
+account for your very singular remarks about me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I am drunk, am I?" laughed the peasant. "It is very likely, and in
+that case I had better go to sleep. Good-night, and do not forget that
+you are to take me with you to Russia."</p>
+
+<p>"I will not forget," said the Count.</p>
+
+<p>Dumnoff stretched his heavy limbs on the wooden pallet, rolled his great
+head once or twice from side to side until his fur-like hair made
+something like a cushion and then, in the course of three minutes, fell
+fast asleep.</p>
+
+<p>The Count sat upright in his place, drumming with his fingers upon one
+knee.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a wonder that I am not mad," he said to himself. "But Vjera never
+thought it of me&mdash;and that fellow is evidently the worse for liquor."</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="r7044" id="r7044"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Johann Schmidt had not fled from the scene of action out of any
+consideration for his personal safety. He was, indeed, a braver man than
+Dumnoff, in proportion as he was more intelligent, and though of a very
+different temper, by no means averse to a fight if it came into his way.
+He had foreseen what was sure to happen, and had realised sooner than
+any one else that the only person who could set everything straight was
+Fischelowitz himself. So soon as he was clear of pursuit, therefore, he
+turned in the direction of the tobacconist's dwelling, walking as
+quickly as he could where there were many people and running at the top
+of his speed through such empty by-streets as lay in the direct line of
+his course. He rushed up the three flights of steps and rang sharply at
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>Akulina's unmistakable step was heard in the passage a moment later.
+Schmidt would have preferred that Fischelowitz should have come himself,
+though he managed to live on very good terms with Akulina. Though far
+from tactful he guessed that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> in a matter concerning the Count, the
+tobacconist would prove more obliging than his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter?" inquired the mistress of the house, opening the
+door wide after she had recognised the Cossack in the feeble light of
+the staircase, by looking through the little hole in the panel.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-evening, Frau Fischelowitz," said Schmidt, trying to appear as
+calm and collected as possible. "I would like to speak to your husband
+upon a little matter of business."</p>
+
+<p>"He is not at home yet. I left him in the shop."</p>
+
+<p>Almost before the words were out of her mouth, Schmidt had turned and
+was running down the stairs, two at a time. Akulina called him back.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a minute!" she cried, advancing to the hand-rail on the landing.
+"What in the world are you in such a hurry about?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;nothing&mdash;nothing especial," answered the man, suddenly stopping and
+looking up.</p>
+
+<p>Akulina set her fat hands on her hips and held her head a little on one
+side. She had plenty of curiosity in her composition.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I must say," she observed, "for a man who is not in a hurry about
+anything, you are uncommonly brisk with your feet. If it is only a
+matter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> of business, I daresay I will do as well as my husband."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I daresay," admitted Schmidt, scratching his head. "But this is
+rather a personal matter of business, you see."</p>
+
+<p>"And you mean that you want some money, I suppose," suggested Akulina,
+at a venture.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, not at all&mdash;no money at all. It is not a question of money." He
+hoped to satisfy her by a statement which was never without charm in her
+ears. But Akulina was not satisfied; on the contrary, she began to
+suspect that something serious might be the matter, for she could see
+Schmidt's face better now, as he looked up to her, facing the gaslight
+that burned above her own head. Having been violently angry not more
+than an hour or two earlier, her nerves were not altogether calmed, and
+the memory of the scene in the shop was still vividly present. There was
+no knowing what the Count might not have done, in retaliation for the
+verbal injuries she had heaped upon him, and her quick instinct
+connected Schmidt's unusually anxious appearance and evident haste to be
+off, with some new event in which the Count had played a part.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you seen the Count?" she inquired, just as Schmidt was beginning
+to move again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes," answered the latter, trying to assume a doubtful tone of voice.
+"I believe&mdash;in fact, I did see him&mdash;for a moment&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Akulina smiled to herself, proud of her own acuteness.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought so," she said. "And he has made some trouble about that
+wretched doll&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"How did you guess that?" asked Schmidt, turning and ascending a few
+steps. He was very much astonished.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I know many things&mdash;many interesting things. And now you want to
+warn my husband of what the Count has done, do you not? It must be
+something serious, since you are in such a hurry. Come in, Herr Schmidt,
+and have a glass of tea. Fischelowitz will be at home in a few minutes,
+and you see I have guessed half your story, so you may as well tell me
+the other half and be done with it. It is of no use for you to go to the
+shop after him. He has shut up by this time, and you cannot tell which
+way he will come home, can you? Much better come in and have a glass of
+tea. The samovar is lighted and everything is ready, so that you need
+not stay long."</p>
+
+<p>Schmidt lingered doubtfully a moment on the stairs. The closing hour was
+certainly past in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> early-closing Munich, and he might miss the
+tobacconist in the street. It seemed wiser to wait for him in his house,
+and so the Cossack reluctantly accepted the invitation, which, under
+ordinary circumstances, he would have regarded as a great honour.
+Akulina ushered him into the little sitting-room and prepared him a
+large glass of tea with a slice of lemon in it. She filled another for
+herself and sat down opposite to him at the table.</p>
+
+<p>"The poor Count!" she exclaimed. "He is sure to get himself into trouble
+some day. I suppose people cannot help behaving oddly when they are mad,
+poor things. And the Count is certainly mad, Herr Schmidt."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite mad, poor man. He has had one of his worst attacks to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," assented the wily Akulina, "and if you could have seen him and
+heard him in the shop this evening&mdash;" She held up her hands and shook
+her head.</p>
+
+<p>"What did he do and say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, such things, such things! Poor man, of course I am very sorry for
+him, and I am glad that my husband finds room to employ him, and keep
+him from starving. But really, this evening he quite made me lose my
+temper. I am afraid I was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> a little rough, considering that he is
+sensitive. But to hear the man talk about his money, and his titles, and
+his dignities, when he is only just able to keep body and soul together!
+It is enough to irritate the seven archangels, Herr Schmidt, indeed it
+is! And then at the same time there was that dreadful Gigerl, and my
+head was splitting&mdash;I am sure there will be a thunder-storm
+to-night&mdash;altogether, I could not bear it any longer, and I actually
+upset the Gigerl out of anger, and it rolled to the floor and was
+broken. Of course it is very foolish to lose one's temper in that way,
+but after all, I am only a weak woman, and I confess it was a relief to
+me when I saw the poor Count take the thing away. I hope I did not
+really hurt his feelings, for he is an excellent workman, in spite of
+his madness. What did he say, Herr Schmidt? I would so like to know how
+he took it. Of course he was very angry. Poor man, so mad, so completely
+mad on that one point!"</p>
+
+<p>"To tell the truth," said Schmidt, who had listened attentively, "he did
+not like what you said to him at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, really, was it my fault, Herr Schmidt? I am only a woman, and I
+suppose I may be excused if I lose my temper once in a year or so. It
+is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> very wearing on the nerves. Every Tuesday evening begins the same
+old song about the fortune and letters, and the journey to Russia. One
+gets very tired of it in the long-run. At first it used to amuse me."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think that Herr Fischelowitz can have gone anywhere else instead
+of coming home?" asked the Cossack, finishing the glass of tea, which he
+had swallowed burning hot out of sheer anxiety to get away.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, indeed," cried Akulina in a tone of the most sincere conviction.
+"He always tells me where he is going. You have no idea what a good
+husband he is, and what a good man&mdash;though I daresay you know that after
+being with us so many years. Now, I am sure that if he had the least
+idea that anything had happened to the poor Count, he would run all the
+way home in order to hear it as soon as possible."</p>
+
+<p>"No more tea, thank you, Frau Fischelowitz," said Schmidt, but she took
+his glass with a quiet smile and shredded a fresh piece of lemon into it
+and filled it up again, quite heedless of his protest. Schmidt resigned
+himself, and thanked her civilly.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," she said, presently, as she busied herself with the
+arrangements of the samovar, "of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> course it is nothing so very serious,
+is it? I daresay the Count has told you that he would not work any more
+for us, and you are anxious to arrange the matter? In that case, you
+need have no fear. I am always ready to forgive and forget, as they say,
+though I am only a weak woman."</p>
+
+<p>"That is very kind of you," observed Schmidt, with a glitter in his eyes
+which Akulina did not observe.</p>
+
+<p>"I guessed the truth, did I not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not exactly. The trouble is rather more serious than that. The fact is,
+as we were at supper, a man at another table saw the Gigerl in our hands
+and swore that it had been stolen from him some months ago."</p>
+
+<p>"And what happened then?" asked Akulina with sudden interest.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you may as well know," said Schmidt, regretfully. "There was
+a row, and the man made a great deal of trouble and at last the police
+were called in, and I came to get Herr Fischelowitz himself to come and
+prove that the Gigerl was his. You see why I am in such a hurry."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think they have arrested the Count?"</p>
+
+<p>"I imagine that every one concerned would be taken to the
+police-station."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And then?"</p>
+
+<p>"And then, unless the affair is cleared up, they will be kept there all
+night."</p>
+
+<p>"All night!" exclaimed Akulina, holding up her hands in real or affected
+horror. "Poor Count! He will be quite crazy, now, I fear&mdash;especially as
+this is Tuesday evening."</p>
+
+<p>"But he must be got out at once!" cried Schmidt in a tone of decision.
+"Herr Fischelowitz will surely not allow&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No indeed! You have only to wait until he comes home, and then you can
+go together. Or better still, if he does not come back in a quarter of
+an hour, and if he has really shut up the shop as usual, you might look
+for him at the Caf&eacute; Luitpold, and if he is not there, it is just
+possible that he may have looked in at the G&auml;rtner Platz Theatre, for
+which he often has free tickets, and if the performance is over&mdash;I fancy
+it is, by this time&mdash;he may be in the Caf&eacute; Maximilian, or he may have
+gone to drink a glass of beer in the Platzl, for he often goes there,
+and&mdash;well, if you do not find him in any of those places&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But, good Heavens, Frau Fischelowitz, you said you were quite sure he
+was coming home at once! Now I have lost all this time!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Schmidt had risen quickly to his feet, in considerable anxiety and
+haste. Akulina smiled good-humouredly.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," she said, "it is just possible that to-night, as he was a
+little annoyed with me for being sharp with the Count, he may have gone
+somewhere without telling me. But I really could not foresee it, because
+he is such a very good&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I know," interrupted the Cossack. "If I miss him, you will tell him,
+will you not? Thank you, and good-night, Frau Fischelowitz, I cannot
+afford to wait a moment longer."</p>
+
+<p>So saying Johann Schmidt made for the door and got out of the house this
+time without any attempt on the part of his amiable hostess to detain
+him further. She had indeed omitted to tell him that her last speech was
+not merely founded on a supposition, since Fischelowitz had really been
+very much annoyed and had declared that he would not come home but would
+spend the evening with a friend of his who lived in the direction of
+Schwabing, one of the suburbs of Munich farthest removed from the places
+in which she advised Schmidt to make search.</p>
+
+<p>The stout housewife disliked and even detested the Count for many
+reasons all good in her own eyes, among which the chief one was that she
+did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> dislike him. She felt for him one of those strong and invincible
+antipathies which trivial and cunning natures often feel for very
+honourable and simple ones. To the latter the Count belonged, and
+Akulina was a fine specimen of the former. If the Count had been
+literally starving and clothed in rags, he would have been incapable of
+a mean thought or of a dishonest action. Whatever his origin had been,
+he had that, at least, of a nobility undeniable in itself. That his
+character was simple in reality, may as yet seem less evident. He was
+regarded as mad, as has been seen, but his madness was methodical and
+did not overstep certain very narrow bounds. Beyond those limits within
+which others, at least, did not consider him responsible, his chief idea
+seemed to be to gain his living quietly, owing no man anything, nor
+refusing anything to any man who asked it. This last characteristic,
+more than any other, seemed to prove the possibility of his having been
+brought up in wealth and with the free use of money, for his generosity
+was not that of the vulgar spendthrift who throws away his possessions
+upon himself quite as freely as upon his companions. He earned enough
+money at his work to live decently well, at least, and he spent but the
+smallest sum upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> his own wants. Nevertheless he never had anything to
+spare for his own comfort, for he was as ready to give a beggar in the
+street the piece of silver which represented a good part of the value of
+his day's work as most rich people are to part with a penny. He never
+inquired the reason for the request of help, but to all who asked of him
+he gave what he had, gravely, without question, as a matter of course.
+If Dumnoff's pockets were empty and his throat dry, he went to the Count
+and got what he wanted. Dumnoff might be brutal, rude, coarse; it made
+no difference. The Count did not care to know where the money went nor
+when it would be returned, if ever. If Schmidt's wife&mdash;for he had a
+wife&mdash;was ill, the Count lent all he had, if the children's shoes were
+worn out, he lent again, and when Schmidt, who was himself extremely
+conscientious in his odd way, brought the money back, the Count
+generally gave it to the first poor person whom he met. Akulina supposed
+that this habit belonged to his madness. Others, who understood him
+better, counted it to him for righteousness, and even Dumnoff, the rough
+peasant, showed at times a friendly interest in him, which is not
+usually felt by the unpunctual borrower towards the uncomplaining
+lender.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But Akulina could understand none of these things. She belongs by nature
+to the class of people whose first impulse on all occasions is to say:
+"Money is money." There can be no mutual attraction of intellectual
+sympathy between these, and those other persons who despise money in
+their hearts, and would rather not touch it with their hands. It has
+been seen also that the events connected with the Gigerl's first
+appearance in the shop had been of a nature to irritate Akulina still
+more. The dislike nourished in her stout bosom through long months and
+years now approached the completion of its development, and manifested
+itself as a form of active hatred. Akulina was delighted to learn that
+there was a prospect of the Count's spending the night in the
+police-station and she determined that Johann Schmidt should not find
+her husband before the next day, and that when the partner of her bliss
+returned&mdash;presumably pacified by the soothing converse of his
+friend&mdash;she would not disturb his peace of mind by any reference to the
+Count's adventures. It was therefore with small prospect of success that
+the Cossack began his search for Fischelowitz.</p>
+
+<p>Only a man who has sought anxiously for another, all through the late
+evening, in a great city, knows<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> how hopeless the attempt seems after
+the first hour. The rapid motion through many dusky streets, the looking
+in, from time to time, upon some merry company assembled in a warm room
+under a brilliant light, the anxious search among the guests for the
+familiar figure, the disappointment, as each fancied resemblance shows,
+on near approach, a face unknown to the searcher, the hurried exit and
+the quick passage through the dark night air to the next
+halting-place&mdash;all these impressions, following hurriedly upon each
+other, confuse the mind and at last discourage hope.</p>
+
+<p>Schmidt did not realise how late it was, when, abandoning his search for
+his employer, he turned towards the police-station in the hope of still
+rendering some assistance to his friend. He could not gain admittance to
+the presence of the officer in charge, however, and was obliged to
+content himself with the assurance that the Count had been treated "with
+consideration," as the phrase was, and that there would be plenty of
+time for talking in the morning. The policemen in the guard-room were
+sleepy and not disposed to enter into conversation. Schmidt turned his
+steps in the direction of the tobacconist's house for the second time,
+in sheer despair. But he found the street door shut<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> and the whole house
+was dark. Nevertheless, he pulled the little handle upon which, by the
+aid of a flickering match, he discovered a figure of three,
+corresponding to the floor occupied by Fischelowitz. Again and again he
+tugged vigorously at the brass knob until he could hear the bell
+tinkling far above. No other sound followed, however, in the silence of
+the night, though he strained his ears for the faintest echo of a
+distant footfall and the slightest noise indicating that a window or a
+door was about to be opened. He wondered whether Fischelowitz had come
+home. If he had, Akulina had surely told him the story of the evening,
+and he would have been heard of at the police-station, for it was
+incredible that he should let the night pass without making an effort to
+liberate the Count. Therefore the tobacconist had in all probability not
+yet returned. The night was fairly warm, and the Cossack sat down upon a
+doorstep, lighted a cigarette and waited. In spite of long years spent
+in the midst of German civilisation, it was still as natural to him to
+sit down in the open air at night and to watch the stars, as though he
+had never changed his own name for the plain German appellation of
+Johann Schmidt, nor laid aside the fur cap and the sheepskin coat of his
+tribe for the shabby jacket<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> and the rusty black hat of higher social
+development.</p>
+
+<p>There was no truth in Akulina's statement that a thunder-storm was
+approaching. The stars shone clear and bright, high above the narrow
+street, and the solitary man looked up at them, and remembered other
+days and a freer life and a broader horizon; days when he had been
+younger than he was now, a life full of a healthier labour, a horizon
+boundless as that of the little street was limited. He thought, as he
+often thought when alone in the night, of his long journeys on
+horseback, driving great flocks of bleating sheep over endless steppes
+and wolds and expanses of pasture and meadow; he remembered the
+reddening of the sheep's woolly coats in the evening sun, the quick
+change from gold to grey as the sun went down, the slow transition from
+twilight to night, the uncertain gait of his weary beast as the darkness
+closed in, the soft sound of the sheep huddling together, the bark of
+his dog, the sudden, leaping light of the camp-fire on the distant
+rising ground, the voices of greeting, the bubbling of the soup kettle,
+the grateful rest, the song of the wandering Tchum&aacute;k&mdash;the pedlar and
+roving newsman of the Don. He remembered on holidays the wild racing and
+chasing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> and the sports in the saddle, the picking up of the tiny
+ten-kopek bit from the earth at a full gallop, the startling game in
+which a row of fearless Cossack girls join hands together, daring the
+best rider to break their rank with his plunging horse if he can, the
+mad laughter of the maidens, the snorting and rearing of the animal as
+he checks himself before the human wall that will not part to make way
+for him. All these things he recalled, the change of the seasons, the
+iron winter, the scorching summer, the glory of autumn and the freshness
+of spring. Born to such a liberty, he had fallen into the captivity of a
+common life; bred in the desert, he knew that his declining years would
+be spent in the eternal cutting of tobacco in the close air of a back
+shop; trained to the saddle, he spent his days seated motionless upon a
+wooden chair. The contrast was bitter enough, between the life he was
+meant to lead by nature, and the life he was made to lead by
+circumstances. And all this was the result in the first instant of a
+girl's caprice, of her fancy for another man, so little different from
+himself that a Western woman could hardly have told the two apart. For
+this, he had left the steppe, had wandered westward to the Dnieper and
+southward to Odessa, northward again to Kiew, to Moscow, to
+Nizni-Novgorod, back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> again to Poland, to Krakau, to Prague, to Munich
+at last. Who could remember his wanderings, or trace the route of his
+endless journeyings? Not he himself, surely, any more than he could
+explain the gradual steps by which he had been transformed from a Don
+Cossack to a German tobacco-cutter in a cigarette manufactory.</p>
+
+<p>But his past life at least furnished him with memories, varied,
+changing, full of light and life and colour, wherewith to while away an
+hour's watching in the night. Still he sat upon his doorstep, watching
+star after star as it slowly culminated over the narrow street and set,
+for him, behind the nearest house-top. He might have sat there till
+morning had he not been at last aware that some one was walking upon the
+opposite pavement.</p>
+
+<p>His quick ear caught the soft fall of an almost noiseless footstep and
+he could distinguish a shadow a little darker than the surrounding
+shade, moving quickly along the wall. He rose to his feet and crossed
+the street, not believing, indeed, that the newcomer could be the man he
+wanted, but anxious to be fully satisfied that he was not mistaken. He
+found himself face to face with a young girl, who stopped at the street
+door of the tobacconist's house,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> just as he reached it. Her head was
+muffled in something dark and he could not distinguish her features. She
+started on seeing him, hesitated and then laid her hand upon the same
+knob which Schmidt had pulled so often in vain.</p>
+
+<p>"It is of no use to ring," he said, quietly. "I have given it up."</p>
+
+<p>"Herr Schmidt!" exclaimed the girl in evident delight. It was Vjera.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;but, in Heaven's name, Vjera, what are you doing here at this hour
+of the night? You ought to be at home and asleep."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you have not heard the dreadful news," cried poor Vjera in accents
+of distress. "Oh, if we cannot get in here, come with me, for the love
+of Heaven, and help me to get him out of that horrible place&mdash;oh, if you
+only knew what has happened!"</p>
+
+<p>"I know all about it, Vjera," answered the Cossack. "That is the reason
+why I am here. I was with them when it happened and I ran off to get
+Fischelowitz. As ill luck would have it, he was out."</p>
+
+<p>In a few words Schmidt explained the whole affair and told of his own
+efforts. Vjera was breathless with excitement and anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>"What is to be done? Dear Herr Schmidt!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> What is to be done?" She wrung
+her hands together and fixed her tearful eyes on his.</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid that there is nothing to be done until morning&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But there must be something, there shall be something done! They will
+drive him mad in that dreadful place&mdash;he is so proud and so
+sensitive&mdash;you do not know&mdash;the mere idea of being in prison&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It is not so bad as that," answered Schmidt, trying to reassure her.
+"They assured me that he was treated with every consideration, you know.
+Of course that means that he was not locked up like a common prisoner."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think so?" Vjera's tone expressed no conviction in the matter.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. And it shows that he is not really suspected of anything
+serious&mdash;only, because Fischelowitz could not be found&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But he is there&mdash;there in his house, asleep!" cried Vjera. "And we can
+wake him up&mdash;of course we can. He cannot be sleeping so soundly as not
+to hear if we ring hard. At least his wife will hear and look out of the
+window."</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid not. I have tried it."</p>
+
+<p>But Vjera would not be discouraged and laid hold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> of the bell-handle
+again, pulling it out as far as it would come and letting it fly back
+again with a snap. The same results followed as when Schmidt had made
+the same attempt. There was a distant tinkling followed by total
+silence. Vjera repeated the operation.</p>
+
+<p>"You cannot do more than I have done," said her companion, leaning his
+back against the door and watching her movements.</p>
+
+<p>"I ought to do more."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Vjera?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because he is more to me than to you or to any of the rest," she
+answered in a low voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to say that you love the Count?" inquired Schmidt,
+surprised beyond measure by the girl's words and rendered thereby even
+more tactless than usual.</p>
+
+<p>But Vjera said nothing, having been already led into saying more than
+she had wished to say. She pulled the bell again.</p>
+
+<p>"I had never thought of that," remarked the Cossack in a musing tone.
+"But he is mad, Vjera, the poor Count is mad. It is a pity that you
+should love a madman&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"O, don't, Herr Schmidt&mdash;please don't!" cried Vjera, imploring him to be
+silent as much with her eyes as with her voice.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No, but really," continued the other, as though talking to himself,
+"there are things that go beyond all imagination in this world. Now, who
+would ever have thought of such a thing?"</p>
+
+<p>This time Vjera did not make any answer, nor repeat her request. But as
+she tugged with all her might at the brass handle, the Cossack heard a
+quick sob, and then another.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Vjera!" he exclaimed kindly, and laying his hand on her shoulder.
+"Poor child! I am very sorry for you, poor Vjera&mdash;I would do anything to
+help you, indeed I would&mdash;if I only knew what it should be."</p>
+
+<p>"Then help me to wake up Fischelowitz," answered the girl in a shaken
+voice. "I am sure he is at home at this time&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I have done all I can. If he will not wake, he will not. Or if he is
+awake he will not put his head out of the window, which is much the same
+thing so far as we are concerned. By the bye, Vjera, you have not told
+me how you came to hear of the row. It is queer that you should have
+heard of it&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Herr Homolka&mdash;you know, my landlord&mdash;had seen the Count go by with the
+Gigerl and the policemen. He asked some one in the crowd and learned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>
+the story. But it was late when he came home, and he told us&mdash;I was
+sitting up sewing with his wife&mdash;and then I ran here. But do please help
+me&mdash;we can do something, I am sure."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not see what, short of climbing up the flat walls of the house.
+But I am not a lizard, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"We might call. Perhaps they would hear our voices if we called
+together," suggested Vjera, drawing back into the middle of the street
+and looking up at the closed windows of the third story.</p>
+
+<p>"Herr Fischelowitz!" she cried, in a shrill, weak tone that seemed to
+find no echo in the still air.</p>
+
+<p>"Herr Fischelowitz, Fischelowitz, Fischelowitz!" bawled the Cossack,
+taking up the idea and putting it into very effective execution. His
+brazen voice, harsh and high, almost made the windows rattle.</p>
+
+<p>"Somebody will hear that," he observed and cleared his throat for
+another effort.</p>
+
+<p>A number of persons heard it, and at the first repetition of the yell,
+two or three windows were angrily opened. A head in a white nightcap
+looked out from the first story.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want at this hour of the night?" asked the owner of the
+nightcap, already in a rage.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I want Herr Fischelowitz, who lives in this house," answered the
+Cossack, firmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you live here? Are you shut out?"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;we only want&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Then go to the devil!" roared the infuriated German, shutting his
+window again with a vicious slam. A grunt of satisfaction from other
+directions was followed by the shutting of other windows, and presently
+all was silent again.</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid they sleep at the back of the house," said Vjera, growing
+despondent at last.</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid so, too," answered Johann Schmidt, proudly conscious that
+the noise he had made would have disturbed the slumbers of the Seven
+Sleepers of Ephesus.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="r9806" id="r9806"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>"You had better let me take you home," said Schmidt, kindly, after the
+total failure of the last effort.</p>
+
+<p>Vjera seemed to be stupefied by the sense of disappointment. She went
+back to the door of the tobacconist's house and put out her hand as
+though to ring the bell again then, realising how useless the attempt
+would be, she let her arms fall by her sides and leaned against the
+door-post, her muffled head bent forward and her whole attitude
+expressing her despair.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, Vjera," said the Cossack in an encouraging tone, "it is not
+so bad after all. By this time the Count is fast asleep and is dreaming
+of his fortune, you know, so that it would be a cruelty to wake him up.
+In the morning we will all go with Fischelowitz and have him let out,
+and he will be none the worse."</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid he will be&mdash;very much the worse," said Vjera. "It is
+Wednesday to-morrow, and if he wakes up there&mdash;oh, I do not dare think
+of it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> It will make him quite, quite mad. Can we do nothing more?
+Nothing?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think we have done our best to wake up this quarter of the town, and
+yet Fischelowitz is still asleep. No one else can be of any use to
+us&mdash;therefore&mdash;" he stopped, for his conclusion seemed self-evident.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so," said Vjera, regretfully. "Let us go, then."</p>
+
+<p>She turned and with her noiseless step began to walk slowly away,
+Schmidt keeping close by her side. For some minutes neither spoke. The
+streets were deserted, dry and still.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think there is any truth at the bottom of the Count's story?"
+asked the Cossack at last.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know," Vjera answered, shaking her head. "I do not know what
+to think," she continued after a little pause. "He tells us all the same
+thing, he speaks of his letters, but he never shows them to anyone. I am
+afraid&mdash;" she sighed and stopped speaking.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you this much," said her companion. "That man is honest to
+the backbone, honest as the good daylight on the hills, where there are
+no houses to darken it and make shadows."</p>
+
+<p>"He is an angel of goodness and kindness," said Vjera softly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I know he is. Is he not always helping others when he is starving
+himself? Now what I say is this. No man who is as good and as honest as
+he is, can have become so mad about a mere piece of fancy&mdash;about an
+invented lie, to be plain. What there is in his story I do not know, but
+I am sure that there was truth in it once. It may have been a long time
+ago, but there was a time once, when he had some reason to expect the
+money and the titles he talks of every Tuesday evening."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you really think that?" asked Vjera, eagerly. Her own understanding
+had never gone so far in its deduction.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure of it. I know nothing about mad people, but I am sure that no
+honest man ever invented a story out of nothing and then became crazy
+because it did not turn out true."</p>
+
+<p>"But you, who have travelled so much, Herr Schmidt, have you ever heard
+the name before&mdash;have you ever heard of such a family?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have a bad memory for names, but I believe I have. I cannot be sure.
+It makes no difference. It is a good Russian name, in any case, and a
+gentleman's name, I should think. Of course I only mean that I&mdash;that you
+should not think that because I&mdash;in fact," blundered out the good man,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>
+"you must not suppose that you will be a real countess, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"I?" exclaimed Vjera, with a nervous, hysterical laugh, which the
+Cossack supposed to be genuine.</p>
+
+<p>"That is all I wanted to say," he continued in a tone of relief, as
+though he felt that he had done his duty in warning the poor girl of a
+possible disappointment. "It may be true&mdash;of course, and I am sure that
+it once was, or something like it, but I do not believe he has any
+chance of getting his own after so long."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot think of it&mdash;in either way. If it is all an old forgotten tale
+which he believes in still-why then, he is mad. Is it not dreadful to
+see? So quiet and sensible all the week, and then, on Tuesday night, his
+farewell speech to us all&mdash;every Tuesday&mdash;and his disappointment the
+next day, and then a new week begun without any recollection of it all!
+It is breaking my heart, Herr Schmidt!"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, poor Vjera, you look as though it were."</p>
+
+<p>"And yet, and yet&mdash;I do not know. I think that if it were one day to
+turn out true&mdash;then my heart would be quite broken, for he would go
+away, and I should never see him again."</p>
+
+<p>Accustomed as she was to daily association with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> the man who was walking
+by her side, knowing his good heart and feeling his sympathy, it is
+small wonder that the lonely girl should have felt impelled to unburden
+her soul of some of its bitterness. If her life had gone on as usual,
+undisturbed by anything from without, the confessions which now fell
+from her lips so easily would never have found words. But she had been
+unsettled by what had happened in the early evening, and unstrung by her
+great anxiety for the Count's safety. Her own words sounded in her ear
+before she knew that she was going to speak them.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure that something dreadful is going to happen," she continued
+after a moment's pause. "He will go mad in that horrible prison, raving
+mad, so that they will have to&mdash;to hold him&mdash;" she sobbed and then
+recovered herself by an effort. "Or else&mdash;he will fall ill and die,
+after it&mdash;" Here she broke down completely and stopping in the middle of
+the street began crying bitterly, clutching at Schmidt's arm as though
+to keep from falling.</p>
+
+<p>"I should not wonder," he said, but she fortunately did not catch the
+words.</p>
+
+<p>He was very sorry for the poor girl, and felt inclined to take her in
+his arms and carry her to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> her home, for he saw that she was weak and
+exhausted as well as overcome by her anxiety. Before resorting to such a
+measure, however, he thought it best to try to encourage her to walk on.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing that one expects, ever happens," he said confidently, and
+passing his arm through hers, as though to lead her away. "Come, you
+will be at home presently and then you will go to bed and in the
+morning, before you are at the shop, everything will have been set
+right, and I daresay the Count will be there before you, and looking as
+well as ever."</p>
+
+<p>"How can you say that, when you know that he never comes on Wednesdays!"
+exclaimed Vjera through her tears. "I am sure something dreadful will
+happen to him. No, not that way&mdash;not that way!"</p>
+
+<p>Schmidt was trying to guide her round a sharp corner, but she resisted
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"But that is the way home," protested the Cossack.</p>
+
+<p>"I know, but I cannot go home, until I have seen where he is. I must
+go&mdash;you must not prevent me!"</p>
+
+<p>"To the police-station?" inquired Schmidt in considerable astonishment.
+"They will not let us<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> go in, you know. You cannot possibly see him.
+What good can it do you to go and look at the place?"</p>
+
+<p>"You do not understand, Herr Schmidt! You are good and kind, but you do
+not understand me. Pray, pray come with me, or let me go alone. I will
+go alone, if you do not want to come. I am not at all afraid&mdash;but I must
+go."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, child," answered Schmidt, good-humouredly. "I will go with you,
+since you are so determined."</p>
+
+<p>"Is this the way? Are you not misleading me? Oh, I am sure I shall never
+see him again&mdash;quick, let us walk quickly, Herr Schmidt! Only think what
+he may be suffering at this very moment!"</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure he is asleep, my dear child. And when we are outside of the
+police-station we cannot know what is going on inside, whether our
+friend is asleep or awake, and it can do no good whatever to go. But
+since you really wish it so much, we are going there as fast as we can,
+and I promise to take you by the shortest way."</p>
+
+<p>Her step grew more firm as they went on and he felt that there was more
+life in the hand that rested on his arm. The prospect of seeing the
+walls of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> the place in which the Count was unwillingly spending the
+night gave Vjera fresh strength and courage. The way was long, as
+distances are reckoned in Munich, and more than ten minutes elapsed
+before they reached the building. A sentry was pacing the pavement under
+the glare of the gaslight, his shadow lengthening, shortening,
+disappearing and lengthening again on the stone-way as he walked slowly
+up and down. Vjera and her companion stopped on the other side of the
+street. The sentinel paid no attention to them.</p>
+
+<p>"You are quite sure it is there?" asked the girl, under her breath.
+Schmidt nodded instead of answering.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I will pray that all may be well this night," she said.</p>
+
+<p>She dropped the Cossack's arm and slipped away from him; then pausing at
+a little distance, in the deep shadow of an archway opposite the
+station, she knelt down upon the pavement, and taking some small object,
+which was indistinguishable in the darkness, from the bosom of her frock
+she clasped her hands together and looked upwards through the gloom at
+the black walls of the great building. The Cossack looked at her in a
+sort of half-stupid, half-awed surprise, scarcely understanding what
+she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> was doing at first, and feeling his heart singularly touched when
+he realised that she was praying out here in the street, kneeling on the
+common pavement of the city, as though upon the marble floor of a
+church, and actually saying prayers&mdash;he could hear low sounds of earnest
+tone escaping from her lips&mdash;prayers for the man she loved, because he
+was shut up for the night in the police-station like an ordinary
+disturber of the peace. He was touched, for the action, in its
+simplicity of faith, set in vibration the chords of a nature accustomed
+originally to simple things, simple hopes, simple beliefs.
+Instinctively, as he watched her, Johann Schmidt raised his hat from his
+round head for a moment, and if he had possessed any nearer acquaintance
+with praying in general or with any prayer in particular it is almost
+certain that his lips would have moved. As it was, he felt sorry for
+Vjera, he hoped that the Count would be none the worse for his
+adventure, and he took off his hat. Let it be counted to him for
+righteousness.</p>
+
+<p>As for poor Vjera herself, she was so much in earnest that she
+altogether forgot where she was. For love, it has been found, is a great
+suggester of prayer, if not of meditation, and when the beloved one is
+in danger a little faith seems magnified to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> such dimensions as would
+certainly accept unhesitatingly a whole mountain of dogmas. Vjera's
+ideas were indeed confused, and she would have found it hard to define
+the result which she so confidently expected. But if that result were to
+be in any proportion to her earnestness of purpose and sincerity of
+heart, it could not take a less imposing shape than a direct
+intervention of Providence, at the very least; and as the poor Polish
+girl rose from her knees she would hardly have been surprised to see the
+green-coated sentinel thrust aside by legions of angelic beings,
+hastening to restore to her the only treasure her humble life knew of,
+or dreamed of, or cared for.</p>
+
+<p>But as the visions which her prayers had called before her faded away
+into the night, she saw again the dingy walls of the hated building, the
+gilt spike on the helmet of the policeman and the shining blade that
+caught the light as he moved on his beat. For one moment Vjera stood
+quite still. Then with a passionate gesture she stretched out both arms
+before her, as though to draw out to herself, by sheer strength of
+longing, the man whose life she felt to be her own&mdash;and at last, wearied
+and exhausted, but no longer despairing altogether, she covered her face
+with her hands and repeated again and again<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> the two words which made up
+the burden of her supplication.</p>
+
+<p>"Save him, save him, save him!" she whispered to herself.</p>
+
+<p>When she looked up, at last, Schmidt was by her side. There was
+something oddly respectful in his attitude and manner as he stood there
+awaiting her pleasure, ready to be guided by her whithersoever she
+pleased. It seemed to him that on this evening he had begun to see Vjera
+in a new light, and that she was by no means the poor, insignificant
+little shell-maker he had always supposed her to be. It seemed to him
+that she was transformed into a woman, and into a woman of strong
+affections and brave heart. And yet he knew every outline of her plain
+face, and had known every change of her expression for years, since she
+had first come to the shop, a mere girl not yet thirteen years of age.
+Nor had it been from lack of observation that he had misunderstood her,
+for like most men born and bred in the wilderness, he watched faces and
+tried to read them. The change had taken place in Vjera herself and it
+must be due, he thought, to her love for the poor madman. He smiled to
+himself in the dark, scarcely understanding why. It was strange to him
+perhaps that madness on the one side<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> should bring into life such a
+world of love on the other.</p>
+
+<p>Vjera turned towards him and once more laid her hand upon his arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," she said. "I could not have slept if I had not come here
+first, and it was very good of you. I will go home, but do not come with
+me&mdash;you must be tired."</p>
+
+<p>"I am never tired," he answered, and they began to walk away in the
+direction whence they had come.</p>
+
+<p>For a long time neither spoke. At last Schmidt broke the silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Vjera," he said, "I have been thinking about it all and I do not
+understand it. What kind of love is it that makes you act as you do?"</p>
+
+<p>Vjera stood still, for they were close to her door, and there was a
+street lamp at hand so that she could see his face. She saw that he
+asked the question earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>"It is something that I cannot explain&mdash;it is something holy," she
+answered.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the forlorn little shell-maker had found the definition of true
+love.</p>
+
+<p>She let herself in with her key and Schmidt once more found himself
+alone in the street. If he had followed his natural instinct he would
+have loitered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> about in one of the public squares until morning, making
+up for the loss of his night's rest by sleeping in the daytime. But he
+had taken upon himself the responsibilities of marriage as they are
+regarded west of the Dnieper, and his union had been blessed by the
+subsequent appearance of a number of olive-branches. It was therefore
+necessary that he should sleep at night in order to work by day, and he
+reluctantly turned his footsteps towards home. As he walked, he thought
+of all that had happened since five o'clock in the afternoon, and of all
+that he had learned in the course of the night. Vjera's story interested
+him and touched him, and her acts seemed to remind him of something
+which he nevertheless could not quite remember. Far down in his
+toughened nature the strings of a forgotten poetry vibrated softly as
+though they would make music if they dared. Far back in the chain of
+memories, the memory once best loved was almost awake once more, the
+link of once clasped hands was almost alive again, the tender pressure
+of fingers now perhaps long dead was again almost a reality able to
+thrill body and soul. And with all that, and with the certainty that
+those things were gone for ever, arose the great longing for one more
+breath of liberty, for one more ride over the boundless<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> steppe, for one
+more draught of the sour kvass, of the camp brew of rye and malt.</p>
+
+<p>The longing for such things, for one thing almost unattainable, is in
+man and beast at certain times. In the distant northern plains, a
+hundred miles from the sea, in the midst of the Laplander's village, a
+young reindeer raises his broad muzzle to the north wind, and stares at
+the limitless distance while a man may count a hundred. He grows
+restless from that moment, but he is yet alone. The next day, a dozen of
+the herd look up, from the cropping of the moss, snuffing the breeze.
+Then the Laps nod to one another, and the camp grows daily more unquiet.
+At times, the whole herd of young deer stand at gaze, as it were,
+breathing hard through wide nostrils, then jostling each other and
+stamping the soft ground. They grow unruly and it is hard to harness
+them in the light sledge. As the days pass, the Laps watch them more and
+more closely, well knowing what will happen sooner or later. And then at
+last, in the northern twilight, the great herd begins to move. The
+impulse is simultaneous, irresistible, their heads are all turned in one
+direction. They move slowly at first, biting still, here and there, at
+the bunches of rich moss. Presently the slow step becomes a trot, they
+crowd<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> closely together while the Laps hasten to gather up their last
+unpacked possessions, their cooking utensils and their wooden gods. The
+great herd break together from a trot to a gallop, from a gallop to a
+break-neck race, the distant thunder of their united tread reaches the
+camp during a few minutes, and they are gone to drink of the polar sea.
+The Laps follow after them, dragging painfully their laden sledges in
+the broad track left by the thousands of galloping beasts&mdash;a day's
+journey, and they are yet far from the sea, and the trail is yet broad.
+On the second day it grows narrower, and there are stains of blood to be
+seen; far on the distant plain before them their sharp eyes distinguish
+in the direct line a dark, motionless object, another and then another.
+The race has grown more desperate and more wild as the stampede neared
+the sea. The weaker reindeer have been thrown down, and trampled to
+death by their stronger fellows. A thousand sharp hoofs have crushed and
+cut through hide and flesh and bone. Ever swifter and more terrible in
+their motion, the ruthless herd has raced onward, careless of the slain,
+careless of food, careless of any drink but the sharp salt water ahead
+of them. And when at last the Laplanders reach the shore their deer are
+once more quietly grazing, once more tame<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> and docile, once more ready
+to drag the sledge whithersoever they are guided. Once in his life the
+reindeer must taste of the sea in one long, satisfying draught, and if
+he is hindered he perishes. Neither man nor beast dare stand between him
+and the ocean in the hundred miles of his arrow-like path.</p>
+
+<p>Something of this longing came upon the Cossack, as he suddenly
+remembered the sour taste of the kvass, to the recollection of which he
+had been somehow led by a train of thought which had begun with Vjera's
+love for the Count, to end abruptly in a camp kettle. For the heart of
+man is much the same everywhere, and there is nothing to show that the
+step from the sublime to the ridiculous is any longer in the Don country
+than in any other part of the world. But between poor Johann Schmidt and
+his draught of kvass there lay obstacles not encountered by the reindeer
+in his race for the Arctic Ocean. There was the wife, and there were the
+children, and there was the vast distance, so vast that it might have
+discouraged even the fleet-footed scourer of the northern snows. Johann
+Schmidt might long for his kvass, and draw in his thin, wan lips at the
+thought of the taste of it, and bend his black brows and close his sharp
+eyes as in a dream&mdash;it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> was all of no use, there was no change in store
+for him. He had cast his lot in the land of beer and sausages, and he
+must work out his salvation and the support of his family without a
+ladleful of the old familiar brew to satisfy his unreasonable caprices.</p>
+
+<p>So, last of all those concerned in the events of the evening, Johann
+Schmidt went home to bed and to rest. That power, at least, had remained
+with him. Whenever he lay down he could close his eyes and be asleep,
+and forget the troubles and the mean trifles of his thorny existence. In
+this respect he had the advantage of the others.</p>
+
+<p>Vjera lay down, indeed, but the attempt to sleep seemed more painful
+than the accepted reality of waking. The night was the most terrible in
+her remembrance, filled as it was with anxiety for the fate of the man
+she so dearly loved. To her still childlike inexperience of the world,
+the circumstances seemed as full of fear and danger as though the poor
+Count had been put upon his trial for a murder or a robbery on an
+enormous scale, instead of being merely detained because he could not
+give a satisfactory account of a puppet which had been found in his
+possession. In the poor girl's imagination arose visions of judges,
+awful personages in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> funereal robes and huge Hack caps, with cruel lips
+and hard, steely eyes, sitting in solemn state in a gloomy hall and
+dispensing death, disgrace, or long terms of prison, at the very least,
+to all comers. For her, the police-station was a dungeon, and she
+fancied the Count chained to a dank and slimy wall in a painful
+position, chilled to the marrow by the touch of the dripping stone, his
+teeth chattering, his face distorted with suffering. Of course he was in
+a solitary cell, behind a heavy door, braced with clamps and bolts and
+locks and studded with great dark iron nails. Without, the grim
+policemen were doubtless pacing up and down with drawn swords, listening
+with a murderous delight to the groans of their victim as he writhed in
+his chains. In the eyes of the poor and the young, the law is a very
+terrible thing, taking no account of persons, and very little of the
+relative magnitude of men's misdeeds. The province of justice, as Vjera
+conceived it, was to crush in its iron claws all who had the misfortune
+to come within its reach. Vjera had never heard of Judge Jeffreys nor of
+the Bloody Assizes, but the methods of procedure adopted by that eminent
+destroyer of his kind would have seemed mild and humane compared with
+what she supposed that all men, innocent or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> guilty, had to expect after
+they had once fallen into the hands of the policeman. She was not a
+German girl, taught in the common school to understand something of the
+methods by which society governs itself. Her early childhood had been
+spent in a Polish village, far within the Russian frontier, and though
+the law in Russian Poland is not exactly the irresponsible and
+blood-thirsty monster depicted by young gentlemen and old maids who
+traverse the country in search of horrors, yet it must be admitted by
+the least prejudiced that it sometimes moves in a mysterious way,
+calculated to rouse some apprehension in the minds of those who are
+governed by it. And Vjera had brought with her her childish impressions,
+and applied them in the present case as descriptive of the Munich
+police-station. The whole subject was to her so full of horror that she
+had not dared to ask Schmidt for the details of the Count's situation.
+To her, a revolutionary caught in the act of undermining the Tsar's
+bedroom, could not be in a worse case. She would not have believed
+Schmidt, had he told her that the Count was sitting in an attitude of
+calm thought upon the edge of a broad wooden bench, his hands quite free
+from chains and gyves, and occupied in rolling cigarettes at regular
+intervals of half an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> hour&mdash;and this, in a clean and well-ventilated
+room, lighted by a ground glass lantern. She would have supposed that
+Schmidt was inventing a description of such comfort and comparative
+luxury in order to calm her fears, and she would have been ten times
+more afraid than before.</p>
+
+<p>It is small wonder that she could not sleep. The Count's arrest alone
+would have sufficed to keep her in an agony of wakefulness, and there
+were other matters, besides that, which tormented the poor girl's brain.
+She had been long accustomed to his singular madness and to hearing from
+him the assurance of his returning to wealth. At first, with perfect
+simplicity, she had believed every word of the story he told with such
+evident certainty of its truth, and she had reproached her older
+companions, as far as she dared, for their incredulity. But at last she
+had herself been convinced of his madness as through the weeks, and
+months, and years, the state of expectation returned on Tuesday
+evenings, to be followed by the disappointments of Wednesday and by the
+oblivion which ensued on Thursday morning. Vjera, like the rest, had
+come to regard the regularly recurring delusion as being wholly
+groundless, and not to be taken into account, except inasmuch as it
+deprived them of the Count's company<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> on Wednesdays, for on that day he
+stayed at home, in his garret room, waiting for the high personages who
+were to restore to him his wealth. Sometimes, indeed, when he chanced to
+be very sure that they would not come for him until evening, he would
+stroll through the town for an hour, looking into the shop windows and
+making up his mind what he should buy; and sometimes, on such occasions,
+he would visit the scene of his late labours, as he called the
+tobacconist's shop on that day of the week, and would exchange a few
+friendly words with his former companions. On Thursday morning he
+invariably returned to his place without remark and resumed his work,
+not seeming to understand any observations made about his absence or
+strange conduct on the previous day.</p>
+
+<p>So far the story he had told Vjera had always been the same. Now,
+however, he had introduced a new incident in the tale, which filled poor
+Vjera with dismay. He had never before spoken of his father and brother,
+except as the causes of his disasters, explaining that the powerful
+influence of his own friends, aided by the machinery of justice, had at
+last obliged them to concede him a proportional part of the fortune.
+Fischelowitz was accustomed to laugh at this statement, saying that if
+the Count<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> were only a younger son, the law would do nothing for him and
+that he must continue to earn his livelihood as he could. In the course
+of a long time Vjera had come to the conclusion, by comparing this
+remark with the Count's statement when in his abnormal condition, that
+he was indeed the son of a great noble who had turned him out of doors
+for some fancied misdeed, and from whom he had in reality nothing to
+expect. Such was the girl's present belief.</p>
+
+<p>Now, however, he had suddenly declared that his father and his brother
+were dead. With a woman's keenness she took alarm at this new
+development. She really loved the poor man with all her heart. If this
+new addition to his story were a mere invention, it was a sign that his
+madness was growing upon him, and she had heard her companions discuss
+their comrade often enough to know that, in their opinion, if he began
+to grow worse, he would very soon be in the madhouse. It was bad enough
+to go through what she suffered so often, to see the inward struggle
+expressed on his face, whenever he chanced to be alone with her on a
+Tuesday afternoon, to hear from his lips the same assurance of love, the
+same offer of marriage, and to know that all would be forgotten and that
+his manner to her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> would change again, by Thursday, to that of a
+uniform, considerate kindness. It was bad enough, for the girl loved him
+and was sensitive. But it would be worse&mdash;how much worse, she dared not
+think&mdash;to see him go mad before her very eyes, to see him taken away at
+last from the midst of them all to the huge brick house in the outskirts
+of the city beyond the Isar.</p>
+
+<p>One more hypothesis remained. This time the story might turn out true.
+She believed in his birth and in his misfortunes, and in the existence
+of his father and his brother. They might indeed be dead, as he had told
+her, and he would then, perhaps, be sole master in their stead&mdash;she did
+not know how that would be, in Russia. But then, if it were all true, he
+must go away&mdash;and her life would be over, with its loving hope and its
+hopeless love.</p>
+
+<p>It is small wonder that Vjera did not sleep that night.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="r4233" id="r4233"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Once or twice in the course of the night, the Count changed his
+position, got up, stretched himself and paced the length of the room.
+Dumnoff lay like a log upon his pallet, his head thrown back, his mouth
+open, snoring with the strong bass vibration of a thirty-two-foot organ
+pipe. The Count looked at him occasionally, but did not envy him his
+power of sleep. His own reflections were in a measure more agreeable
+than any dream could have been, certainly more so in his judgment than
+the visions of unlimited cabbage soup, vodka, and fighting which were
+doubtless delighting Dumnoff's slumbering soul.</p>
+
+<p>As the church clocks struck one hour after another, his spirits rose. He
+had, indeed, never had the least apprehension concerning his own
+liberty, since he knew himself to be perfectly innocent. He only desired
+to be released as soon as possible in order to repair the damage done to
+his coat and collar before the earliest hour at which the messengers of
+good news could be expected at his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> house. Meanwhile he cared little
+whether he spent the night on a bench in the police-station, or on one
+of the rickety wooden chairs which afforded the only sitting
+accommodation in his own room. He could not sleep in either case, for
+his brain was too wide awake with the anticipations of the morrow, and
+with the endless plans for future happiness which suggested themselves.</p>
+
+<p>At last he was aware that the nature of the light in the room was
+changing and that the white ground glass of the lantern was illuminated
+otherwise than by the little flame within. The high window, as he looked
+up, was like a grey figure cut out of dark paper, and the dawn was
+stealing in at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Wednesday at last!" he exclaimed softly to himself. "Wednesday at
+last!" A gentle smile spread over his tired face, and made it seem less
+haggard and drawn than it really was.</p>
+
+<p>The day broke, and somewhere not far from the window, the birds all
+began to sing at once, filling the room with a continuous strain of
+sound, loud, clear and jubilant. The soft spring air seemed to awake, as
+though it had itself been sleeping through the still night and must busy
+itself now in sending the sweet breezes upon their errands to the
+flowers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I always thought it would come in spring," thought the Count, as he
+listened to the pleasant sounds, and then held one of his yellow hands
+up to the window to feel the freshness that was without.</p>
+
+<p>He wondered how long it would be before Fischelowitz would come and tell
+the truth of the Gigerl's story. By his knowledge of the time of
+daybreak, he guessed that it was not yet much past four o'clock, and he
+doubted whether Fischelowitz would come before eight. The tobacconist
+was a kind man, but a comfortable one, loving his rest and his breakfast
+and his ease at all times. Moreover, as the Count knew better than any
+one else, Akulina would be rejoiced to hear of the misadventure which
+had befallen her enemy and would in no way hurry her husband upon his
+mission of justice. She would doubtless consume an unusual amount of
+time in the preparation of his coffee, she would presumably tell him
+that the milkman had not appeared punctually, and would probably assert
+that there were as yet no rolls to be had. The immediate consequence of
+these spiteful fictions would be that Fischelowitz would dress himself
+very leisurely, swallowing the smoke of several cigarettes in the
+meanwhile, and that he would hardly be clothed, fed and out of the house
+before eight in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> the morning, instead of being on the way to the shop at
+seven as was his usual practice.</p>
+
+<p>But the Count was not at all disturbed by this. The persons whose coming
+he expected were not of the class who pay visits at eight o'clock. It
+was as pleasant to sit still and think of the glorious things in the
+future, as to do anything else, until the great moment came. Here, at
+least, he was undisturbed by the voices of men, unless Dumnoff's
+portentous snore could be called a voice, and to this his ear had grown
+accustomed.</p>
+
+<p>He sat down again, therefore, in his old position, crossed one knee over
+the other and again produced the piece of crumpled newspaper which held
+his tobacco. The supply was low, but he consoled himself with the belief
+that Dumnoff probably had some about him, and rolled what remained of
+his own for immediate consumption.</p>
+
+<p>He was quite right in his surmises concerning his late employer and the
+latter's wife. Akulina had in the first place let her husband sleep as
+long as he pleased, and had allowed a considerable time to elapse before
+informing him of the events of the previous evening. As was to be
+expected, the good man stated his intention of immediately procuring the
+Count's liberation, and was only prevailed upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> with difficulty to
+taste his breakfast. One taste, however, convinced him of the necessity
+of consuming all that was set before him, and while he was thus actively
+employed Akulina entered into the consideration of the theft, recalling
+all the details she could remember about the intimacy supposed to exist
+between the Count and the swindler in coloured glasses, and
+conscientiously showing the matter in all its aspects.</p>
+
+<p>"One fact remains," she said, in conclusion, "he promised you upon his
+honour last night that he would pay you the fifty marks to-day, and, in
+my opinion, since he has been the means of your losing the Gigerl after
+all, he ought to be made to pay the money."</p>
+
+<p>"And where can he get fifty marks to pay me?" inquired Fischelowitz with
+careless good-humour.</p>
+
+<p>"Where he got the doll, I suppose," said Akulina, triumphantly
+completing the vicious circle in which she caused her logic to move.</p>
+
+<p>Fischelowitz smiled as he pushed away his cup, rose and lighted a fresh
+cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>"You are a very good housekeeper, Akulina, my love," he observed. "You
+always know how the money goes."</p>
+
+<p>"That is more than can be said for some people,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> laughed Akulina. "But
+never mind, Christian Gregorovitch, your wife is only a weak woman, but
+she can take care for two, never fear!"</p>
+
+<p>Fischelowitz was of the same opinion as he, at last, took his hat and
+left the house. To him, the whole affair had a pleasant savour of humour
+about it, and he was by no means so much disturbed as Johann Schmidt or
+Vjera. He had lived in Munich many years and understood very well the
+way in which things are managed in the good-natured Bavarian capital. A
+night in the police-station in the month of May seemed by no means such
+a terrible affair, certainly not a matter involving any great suffering
+to any one concerned. Moreover it could not be helped, a consideration
+which, when available, was a great favourite with the rotund
+tobacconist. Whatever the Count had done on the previous night, he said
+to himself, was done past undoing; and though, if he had found Akulina
+awake when he returned from spending the evening with his friend, and if
+she had then told him what had happened, he would certainly have made
+haste to get the Count released&mdash;yet, since Akulina had been sound
+asleep, he had necessarily gone to bed in ignorance of the story, to the
+temporary inconvenience of the arrested pair.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He was not long in procuring an order for the Count's release, but
+Dumnoff's case seemed to be considered as by far the graver of the two,
+since he had actually been guilty of grasping the sacred, green legs of
+two policemen, at the time in the execution of their duty, and of
+violently turning the aforesaid policemen upside down in the public room
+of an eating-house. It was, indeed, reckoned as favourable to him that
+he had returned and submitted to being handcuffed without offering
+further resistance, but it might have gone hard with him if Fischelowitz
+had not procured the co-operation of a Munich householder and taxpayer
+to bail him out until the inquiry should be made. It would have been a
+serious matter for Fischelowitz to lose the work of Dumnoff in his
+"celebrated manufactory" for any length of time together, since it was
+all he could do to meet the increasing demands for his wares with his
+present staff of workers.</p>
+
+<p>"And how did you spend the night, Count?" he inquired as they walked
+quickly down the street together. Dumnoff had made off in the opposite
+direction, in search of breakfast, after which he intended to go
+directly to the shop, as though nothing had happened.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I spent it very pleasantly, thank you," answered the Count. "The fact
+is that, with such an interesting day before me, I should not have slept
+if I had been at home. I have so much to think of, as you may imagine,
+and so many preparations to make, that the time cannot seem long with
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad of that," said Fischelowitz, serenely. "I suppose we shall
+not see you to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hardly&mdash;hardly," replied the Count, as though considering whether his
+engagements would allow him to look in at the shop. "You will certainly
+see me this evening, at the latest," he added, as if he had suddenly
+recollected something. "I have not forgotten that I am to hand you fifty
+marks&mdash;I only regret that you should have lost the Gigerl, which, I
+think I have heard you say, afforded you some amusement. However, the
+money shall be in your hands without delay, or with as little delay as
+possible. My friends will in all probability arrive by the mid-day train
+and will, of course, come to me at once. An hour or so to talk over our
+affairs, and I shall then have leisure to come to you for a few moments
+and to settle that unfortunate affair. Not indeed, my dear Herr
+Fischelowitz, that I have ever held myself responsible for the dishonest
+young man who wore green spectacles. I was, indeed, a loser<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> by him
+myself, in an insignificant sum, and as he turned out to be such an
+indifferent character, I do not mind acknowledging the fact. I do not
+think it can harm him, if I do. No. I was not responsible for him to
+you, but since your excellent wife, Frau Fischelowitz, labours under the
+impression that I was, I am quite willing to accept the responsibility,
+and shall therefore discharge the debt before night, as a matter of
+honour."</p>
+
+<p>"It is very kind of you," remarked the tobacconist, smiling at the
+impressive manner in which the promise was made. "But of course, Count,
+if anything should prevent the arrival of your friends, you will not
+consider this to be an engagement."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing will prevent the coming of those I expect, nor, if anything
+could, would such an accident prevent my fulfilling an engagement which,
+since your excellent wife's remarks last night, I do consider binding
+upon my honour. And now, Herr Fischelowitz, with my best thanks for your
+intervention this morning, I will leave you. After the vicissitudes to
+which I have been exposed during the last twelve hours, my appearance is
+not what I could wish it to be. I have the pleasure to wish you a very
+good morning."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Shaking his companion heartily by the hand, the Count bowed civilly and
+turned into an unfrequented street. Fischelowitz looked after him a few
+seconds, as though expecting that he would turn back and say something
+more, and then walked briskly in the direction of his shop.</p>
+
+<p>He found Akulina standing at the door which led into the workroom, in
+such a position as to be able to serve a customer should any chance to
+enter, and yet so placed as to see the greater part of her audience. For
+she was holding forth volubly in her thick, strong voice, giving her
+very decided opinion about the events of the previous evening, the
+Count, considered in the first place as a specimen of the human race,
+and secondly, as in relation to his acts. Her hearers were poor Vjera,
+her insignificant companion and the Cossack who listened, so to say,
+without enthusiasm, unless the occasional foolish giggle of the younger
+girl was to be taken for the expression of applause.</p>
+
+<p>"I am thoroughly sick of his crazy ways," she was saying, "and if he
+were not really such a good workman we should have turned him out long
+ago. But he really does make cigarettes very well, and with the new shop
+about to be opened, and the demand there is already, it is all we can do
+to keep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> people satisfied. Not but what my husband has been talking
+lately of getting a new workman from Vilna, and if he turns out to be
+all that we expect, why the Count may go about his business and we shall
+be left in peace at last. Indeed it is high time. My poor nerves will
+not stand many more such scenes as last night, and as for my poor
+husband, I believe he has lost as much money through the Count and his
+friends as he has paid to him for work, and if you turn that into
+figures it makes the cigarettes he rolls worth six marks a thousand
+instead of three, which is more than any pocket can stand, while there
+are children to be fed at home. And if you have anything to say to that,
+little husband, why just say it!"</p>
+
+<p>Fischelowitz had entered the shop and the last words were addressed to
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nothing, nothing," he answered, beginning to bustle cheerily about
+the place, setting a box straight here, removing an empty one there,
+opening the till and counting the small change, and, generally, doing
+all those things which he was accustomed to do when he appeared in the
+morning.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Vjera looked paler and more waxen than ever in her life before, so
+pale indeed was she that the total absence of colour lent a sort of
+refinement<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> to her plain features, not often found even in really
+beautiful faces. She had suffered intensely and was suffering still.
+From the first words that Akulina had spoken she had understood that the
+Count had been in the station-house all night, and she found herself
+reviewing all the hideous visions of his cruel treatment which she had
+conjured up since the previous evening. Akulina of course hastened to
+say that Fischelowitz had lost no time in having the poor man set at
+liberty, and this at least was a relief to Vjera's great anxiety. But
+she wanted to hear far more than Akulina could or would tell, she longed
+to know whether he had really suffered as she fancied he had, and how he
+looked after spending in a prison the night that had seemed so long to
+her. She would have given anything to overwhelm the tobacconist with
+questions, to ask for a minute description of the Count's appearance, to
+express her past terrors to some one and to have some one tell her that
+they had been groundless.</p>
+
+<p>But she dared not open her lips to speak of the matters which filled her
+thoughts. She was so wretchedly nervous that she felt as though the
+tears would break out at the sound of her own voice, and at the same
+time she was disturbed by the consciousness<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> that Johann Schmidt's eyes
+watched her closely from the corner in which he was steadily wielding
+his swivel knife. It had been almost natural to tell him of her love in
+the darkness of the streets, in the mad anxiety for the loved one's
+safety, in the weariness and the hopelessness of the night hours. But
+now, sitting at her little table, at her daily work, with all the
+trivial objects that belonged to it recalling her to the reality of
+things, she realised that her day-dreams were no longer her secret, and
+she was ashamed that any one should guess the current of her thoughts.
+It was hard for her to understand how she could have thus taken the
+Cossack into her confidence, and she would have made almost any
+sacrifice to take back the confession. Good he was, and honest, and
+kind-hearted, but she was ashamed of what she had done. It seemed to her
+that, besides giving up to another the knowledge of her heart, she had
+also done something against the dignity of him she loved. She herself
+felt no superiority over Johann Schmidt; they were equals in every way.
+But she did feel, and strongly, that the Cossack was not the equal of
+the Count, and she reproached herself with having made a confidant of
+one beneath her idol in station and refinement. This feeling sprang from
+such a multiplicity of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> sources, as almost to defy explanation. There
+was, at the bottom of it, the strange, unreasoning notion of the
+superiority of one class over another by right of blood, from which no
+race seems to be wholly exempt, and which has produced such surprising
+results in the world. Poor Vjera had been brought up in one of those
+countries where that tradition is still strongest. The mere sound of the
+word "Count" evoked a body of impressions so firmly rooted, so deeply
+ingrained, as necessarily to influence her judgment. The outward manner
+of the man did the rest, his dignity under all circumstances, his
+uncomplaining patience, his unquestioning generosity, his quiet courtesy
+to every one. There was something in every word he spoke, in his every
+action, which distinguished him from his companions. They themselves
+felt it. He was sometimes ridiculous, poor man, and they laughed
+together over his carefully chosen language, over the grand sweep of his
+bow and his punctilious attention to the smallest promise or shadow of a
+promise. These things amused them, but at the same time they felt that
+he could never be what they were, and that those manners and speeches of
+his, which, if they had imitated them, would have seemed in themselves
+so many forms of vulgarity,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> were somehow not vulgar in him. Vjera, as
+she loved him, felt all this far more keenly than the others. And
+besides, to add to her embarrassment at present, there was the girl's
+maidenly shyness and timidity. Since she had told Johann Schmidt her
+secret, she felt as though all eyes were upon her, and as though every
+one were about to turn upon her with those jesting questions which
+coarse natures regard as expressions of sympathy where love is
+concerned. And yet no one spoke to her, nor disturbed her. There was
+only the disquieting consciousness of the Cossack's curious scrutiny to
+remind her that all things were not as they had been yesterday.</p>
+
+<p>The hours of the morning seemed endless. On all other days, Vjera was
+accustomed to see the Count's quiet face opposite to her, and when she
+was most weary of her monotonous toil, a glance at him gave her fresh
+courage, and turned the currents of her thoughts into a channel not
+always smooth indeed, but long familiar and never wearisome to follow.
+The stream emptied, it is true, into the dead sea of doubt, and each
+time, as she ended the journey of her fancy, she felt the cruel chill of
+the conclusion, as though she had in reality fallen into a deep, dark
+water; but she was always able<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> to renew the voyage, to return to the
+fountain-head of love, enjoying at least the pleasant, smooth reaches of
+the river, that lay between the racing rapids and the tumbling falls.</p>
+
+<p>But to-day there was no one at the little table opposite, and Vjera's
+reflections would not be guided in their familiar course. Her heart
+yearned for the lonely man who, on that day, sat in the solitude of his
+poor chamber confidently expecting the messengers of good tidings who
+never came. She wondered what expression was on his face, as he watched
+the door and listened for the fall of feet upon the stairs. She knew,
+for she knew his nature, that he had carefully dressed himself in what
+he had that was best, in order to receive decently the long-expected
+visit; she fancied that he would move thoughtfully about the narrow
+room, trying to give it a feebly festive look in accordance with his own
+inward happiness. He would forget to eat, as he sat there, hearing the
+hours chime one after another, seeing the sun rise higher and higher
+until noon and watching the lengthening shadows of the chimneys on the
+roofs as day declined. More than all, she wondered what that dreadful
+moment could be like when, each week, he gave up hope at last, and saw
+that it had all been a dream. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> had seen him more than once, towards
+the evening of the regularly recurring day, still confidently expecting
+the coming of his friends, explaining that they must come by the last
+train, and hastening away in order to be ready to receive them.
+Somewhere between the Wednesday evening and the Thursday morning there
+must be an hour, of which she hardly dared to think, in which all was
+made clear to him, or in which a veil descended over all, shutting out
+in merciful obscurity the brilliant vision and the bitter
+disappointment. If she could only be with him at that moment, she
+thought, she might comfort him, she might make his sufferings more easy
+to bear, and at the idea the tears that were so near rose nearer still
+to the flowing, kept back only by shame of being seen.</p>
+
+<p>It was a terrible day, and everything jarred upon the poor girl's
+nature, from Akulina's thick, strong voice, continually discussing the
+question of marks and pennies, with occasional allusions to late events,
+to the disagreeable, scratching, paring sound of the Cossack's heavy
+knife as it cut its way through the great packages of leaves. The
+mid-day hour afforded no relief, for the pressure of work was great and
+each of the workers had brought a little food to be eaten in haste and
+almost without a change of position.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> For the work was paid for in
+proportion to its quantity, and the poor people were glad enough when
+there was so much to do, since there was then just so much more to be
+earned. There were times when the demand was slack and when Fischelowitz
+would not keep his people at their tables for more than two or three
+hours in a day. They might occupy the rest of their time as they could,
+and earn something in other ways, if they were able. When those hard
+times came poor Vjera picked up a little sewing, paid for at starvation
+rates, Johann Schmidt turned his hand to the repairing of furs, in which
+he had some skill, and which is an art in itself, and Dumnoff varied his
+existence by exercising great economy in the matter of food without
+making a similar reduction in the allowance of his drink. Under ordinary
+circumstances Vjera would have rejoiced at the quantity of work to be
+done, and as it was, her mental suffering did not make her fingers
+awkward or less nervously eager in the perpetual rolling of the little
+pieces of paper round the glass tube. Even acute physical pain is often
+powerless to affect the mechanical skill of a hand trained for many
+years to repeat the same little operation thousands of times in a day
+with unvarying perfection. Vjera worked as well and as quickly as ever,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>
+though the hours seemed so endlessly long as to make her wonder why she
+did not turn out more work than usual. From time to time the two men
+exchanged more or less personal observations after their manner.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems to me that you work better than usual," remarked the Cossack,
+looking at Dumnoff.</p>
+
+<p>"I feel better," laughed the latter. "I feel as though I had been having
+a holiday and a country dance."</p>
+
+<p>"For the sake of your health, you ought to have a little excitement now
+and then," continued Schmidt. "It is hard for a man of your constitution
+to be shut up day after day as you are here. A little bear-fight now and
+then would do you almost as much good as an extra bottle of brandy,
+besides being cheaper."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." Dumnoff yawned, displaying all his ferocious white teeth to the
+assembled company. "That is true&mdash;and then, those green cloth policemen
+look so funny when one upsets them. I wish I had a few here."</p>
+
+<p>"You have not heard the last of your merry-making yet," said
+Fischelowitz, who was standing in the doorway. "If I had not got you out
+this morning you would still be in the police-station."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"There is something in that," observed Schmidt. "If he were not out, he
+would still be in."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if I were, I should still be asleep," said Dumnoff. "That would
+not be so bad, after all."</p>
+
+<p>"You may be there again before long," suggested Fischelowitz. "You know
+there is to be an inquiry. I only hope you will do plenty of work before
+they lock you up for a fortnight."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose they will let me work in prison," answered Dumnoff,
+indifferently. "They do in some places."</p>
+
+<p>Vjera, whose ideas of prisons have been already explained at length, was
+so much surprised that she at last opened her lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you ever been in prison?" she asked in a wondering tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Several times," replied the other, without looking up. "But always," he
+added, as though suddenly anxious for his reputation, "always for that
+sort of thing&mdash;for upsetting somebody who did not want to be upset. It
+is a curious thing&mdash;I always do it in the same way, and they always
+tumble down. One would think people would learn&mdash;" he paused as though
+considering a profound problem.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps they are not always the same people," remarked the Cossack.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That is true. That may have something to do with it." The ex-coachman
+relapsed into silence.</p>
+
+<p>"But, is it not very dreadful&mdash;in prison?" asked Vjera rather timidly,
+after a short pause.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;if one can sleep well, the time passes very pleasantly. Of course,
+one is not always as comfortable as we were last night. That is not to
+be expected."</p>
+
+<p>"Comfortable!" exclaimed the girl in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;we had a nice room with a good light, and there happened to be
+nobody else in for the night. It was dry and clean and well
+furnished&mdash;rather hard beds, I believe, though I scarcely noticed them.
+We smoked and talked some time and then I went to sleep. Oh, yes&mdash;I
+passed a very pleasant evening, and a comfortable night."</p>
+
+<p>"But I thought&mdash;" Vjera hesitated, as though fearing that she was going
+to say something foolish. "I thought that prisoners always had chains,"
+she said, at last.</p>
+
+<p>Everybody laughed loudly at this remark and the poor girl felt very much
+ashamed of herself, though the question had seemed so natural and had
+been in her mind a long time. It was an immense relief, however, to know
+that things had not been so bad as she had imagined, and Dumnoff's
+description of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> the place of his confinement was certainly reassuring.</p>
+
+<p>As the endless day wore on, she began to glance anxiously towards the
+door, straining her ears for a familiar footstep in the outer shop. As
+has been said, the Count sometimes looked in on Wednesdays, when his
+calculations had convinced him that his friends, not having arrived by
+one train, could not be expected for several hours. But to-day he did
+not come, to-day when Vjera would have given heaven and earth for a
+sight of him. Never, in her short life, had she realised how slowly the
+hours could limp along from sunrise to noon, from noon to sunset, never
+had the little spot of sunlight which appeared in the back-shop on fine
+afternoons taken so long to crawl its diagonal course from the left
+front-leg of Dumnoff's table, where it made its appearance, to the
+right-hand corner of her own, at which point it suddenly went out and
+was seen no more, being probably intercepted by some fixed object
+outside.</p>
+
+<p>Time is the measure of most unhapppiness, for it is in sorrow and
+anxiety that we are most keenly conscious of it, and are oppressed by
+its leaden weight. When we are absorbed in work, in study, in the
+production of anything upon which all our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> faculties are concentrated,
+we say that the time passes quickly. When we are happy we know nothing
+of time nor of its movement, only, long afterwards, we look back, and we
+say, "How short the hours seemed then!"</p>
+
+<p>Vjera toiled on and on, watching the creeping sunshine on the floor,
+glancing at the ever-increasing heap of cut leaves that fell from the
+Cossack's cutting-block, noting the slow rise in the pile of paper
+shells before her and comparing it with that produced by the girl at her
+elbow, longing for the moment when she would see the freshly-made
+cigarettes just below the inner edge of Dumnoff's basket, taking account
+of every little thing by which to persuade herself that the day was
+declining and the evening at hand.</p>
+
+<p>Her life was sad and monotonous enough at the best of times. It seemed
+as though the accidents of the night had made it by contrast ten times
+more sad and monotonous and hopeless than before.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="r6930" id="r6930"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>The Count, as Vjera supposed, had dressed himself with even greater care
+than usual in anticipation of the official visit, and while she was
+working through the never-ending hours of her weary day, he was calmly
+seated upon a chair by the open window in his little room, one leg
+crossed over the other, one hand thrust into the bosom of his coat and
+the other extended idly upon the table by his side. His features
+expressed the perfect calm and satisfaction of a man who knows that
+something very pleasant is about to happen, who has prepared himself for
+it, and who sits in the midst of his swept and garnished dwelling in an
+attitude of pleased expectancy.</p>
+
+<p>The Count's face was tired, indeed, and there were dark circles under
+his sunken grey eyes, brought there by loss of sleep as much as by an
+habitual facility for forgetting to eat and drink. But in the eyes
+themselves there was a bright, unusual light, as though some brilliant
+spectacle were reflected in them out of the immediate future.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> There was
+colour, too, in his lean cheeks, a slight flush like that which comes
+into certain dark faces with the anticipation of any keen pleasure. As
+he sat in his chair, he looked constantly at the door of the room, as
+though expecting it to open at any moment. From time to time, voices and
+footsteps were heard on the stairs, far below. When any of these sounds
+reached him, the Count rose gravely from his seat, and stood in the
+middle of the room, slowly rubbing his hands together, listening again,
+moving a step to the one side or the other and back again, in the
+mechanical manner of a person to whom a visitor has been announced and
+who expects to see him appear almost immediately. But the footsteps
+echoed and died away and the voices were still again. The Count stood
+still a few moments when this happened, satisfying himself that he had
+been mistaken, and then, shaking his head and once more passing his
+hands round each other, he resumed his seat and his former attitude. He
+listened also for the chiming of the hours, and when he was sure that an
+hour had passed since the arrival of his imaginary express train, he
+rose again, looked out of the window, watched the wheeling of the house
+swallows, and assumed an air of momentary indifference. The next
+ringing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> of the clock bells revived the illusion. Another train was
+doubtless just running in to the station, and in a quarter of an hour
+his friends might be with him. There was no time to be lost. The flush
+returned to his cheeks as he hastily combed his smooth hair for the
+twentieth time, examining his appearance minutely in the dingy, spotted
+mirror, brushing his clothes&mdash;far too well brushed these many years&mdash;and
+lastly making sure that there was no weak point in the adjustment of his
+false collar. He made another turn of inspection round his little room,
+feeling sure that there was just time to see that all was right and in
+order, but already beginning to listen for a noise of approaching people
+on the stairs. Once more he straightened and arranged the patched
+coverlet of Turkey red cotton upon the bed, so that it should hide the
+pillows and the sheets; once more he adjusted the clean towel neatly
+upon the wooden peg over the washing-stand, discreetly concealing the
+one he had used in the drawer of the table; for the last time he made
+sure that the chair which had the broken leg was in such close and
+perfect contact with the wall as to make it safely serviceable if not
+rashly removed into a wider sphere of action. Then, as he passed the
+chest of drawers, he gave a final touch to the half-dozen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> ragged-edged
+books which composed his library&mdash;three volumes of Puschkin, of three
+different editions, Ivan Kryloff's <i>Poems and Fables</i>, Gogol's <i>Terrible
+Revenge</i>, Tolstoi's <i>How People Live</i>, and two or three more, including
+Koltsoff, the shepherd poet, and an ancient guide to the city of
+Kiew&mdash;as heterogeneous a collection of works as could be imagined, yet
+all notable in their way, except, indeed, the guide-book, for beauty,
+power, or touching truth.</p>
+
+<p>And when he had touched and straightened everything in the room, he
+returned to his seat, calmly expectant as ever, to wait for the
+footsteps on the stairs, to rise and rub his hands, if the sound reached
+him, to shake his head gravely if he were again disappointed, in short
+to go through the same little round of performance as before until some
+chiming clock suggested to his imagination that the train had come and
+brought no one, and that he might enjoy an interval of distraction in
+looking out of the window until the next one arrived. The Count must
+have had a very exaggerated idea of the facility of communication
+between Munich and Russia, for he assuredly stood waiting for his
+friends, combed, brushed, and altogether at his best, more than twenty
+times between the morning<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> and the evening. As the day declined, indeed,
+his imaginary railway station must have presented a scene of dangerous
+confusion, for his international express trains seemed to come in
+quicker and quicker succession, until he barely had time to look out of
+the window before it became necessary to comb his hair again in order to
+be ready for the next possible arrival. At last he walked perpetually on
+a monotonous beat from the window to the mirror, from the mirror to the
+door, and from the door to the mirror again.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he stopped and tapped his forehead with his hand. The sun was
+setting and the last of his level rays shot over the sea of roofs and
+the forest of chimneys and entered the little room in a broad red
+stream, illuminating the lean, nervous figure as it stood still in the
+ruddy light.</p>
+
+<p>"Good Heavens!" exclaimed the Count, in a tone of great anxiety, "I have
+forgotten Fischelowitz and his money."</p>
+
+<p>There was a considerable break in the continuity of the imaginary
+time-table, for he stood still a long time, in deep thought. He was
+arguing the case in his mind. What he had promised was, to consider the
+fifty marks as a debt of honour. Now a debt of honour must be paid
+within twenty-four hours. No<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> doubt, thought the Count, it would not be
+altogether impossible to consider the twenty-four hours as extending
+from midnight to midnight. The Russians have an expression which means a
+day and a night together&mdash;they call that space of time the sutki, and it
+is a more or less elastic term, as we say "from day to day," "from one
+evening to another." Rooms in Russian hotels are let by the sutki,
+railway tickets are valid for one or more sutki, and the Count might
+have chosen to consider that his sutki extended from the time when he
+had spoken to Fischelowitz until twelve o'clock on the following night.
+But he had no means of knowing exactly what the time had been when he
+had been in the shop, and his punctilious ideas of honour drove him to
+under-estimate the number of hours still at his disposal. Moreover, and
+this last consideration determined his action, if he brought the money
+too late it was to be feared that Fischelowitz would have shut up the
+shop, after which there would be no certainty of finding him. The Count
+wished to make the restitution of the money in Akulina's presence, but
+he was also determined to give the fifty marks directly to the
+tobacconist.</p>
+
+<p>He saw that the sun was going down, and that there was no time to be
+lost. It occurred to him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> at the same instant that if he was to pay the
+debt at all, he must find money for that purpose, and although, in his
+own belief, he was to be master of a large fortune in the course of the
+evening, no scheme for raising so considerable a sum as fifty marks
+presented itself to his imagination. Poor as he was, he was far more
+used to lending than to borrowing, and more accustomed to giving than to
+either. He regretted, now, that he had bound himself to pay the debt
+to-day. It would have been so easy to name the next day but one. But who
+could have foreseen that his friends would miss that particular train
+and only arrive late in the evening?</p>
+
+<p>He paced his room in growing anxiety, his trouble increasing in exact
+proportion with the decrease of the daylight.</p>
+
+<p>"Fifty marks!" he exclaimed, in dismay, as he realised more completely
+the dilemma in which he was placed. "Fifty marks! It is an enormous sum
+to find at a moment's notice. If they had only telegraphed me a credit
+at once, I could have got it from a bank&mdash;a bank&mdash;yes&mdash;but they do not
+know me. That is it. They do not know me. And then, it is late."</p>
+
+<p>The drops of perspiration stood on his pale forehead as he began to walk
+again. He glanced at his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> possessions and turned from the contemplation
+of them in renewed despair. Many a time, before, he had sought among his
+very few belongings for some object upon which a pawnbroker might
+advance five marks, and he had sought in vain. The furniture of the room
+was not his, and beyond the furniture the room contained little enough.
+He had parted long ago with an old silver watch, of which the chain had
+even sooner found its way to the lender's. A long-cherished ring had
+disappeared last winter, by an odd coincidence, at the very time when
+Johann Schmidt's oldest child was lying ill with diphtheria. As for
+clothing, he had nothing to offer. The secrets of his outward appearance
+were known to him alone, but they were of a nature to discourage the
+hope of raising money on coat or trousers. A few well-thumbed volumes of
+Russian authors could not be expected to find a brilliant sale in Munich
+at a moment's notice. He looked about, and he saw that there was
+nothing, and he turned very pale.</p>
+
+<p>"And yet, before midnight, it must be paid," he said. Then his face
+brightened again. "Before midnight&mdash;but they will be here before then,
+of course. Perhaps I may borrow the money for a few hours."</p>
+
+<p>But in order to do this, or to attempt it, he must<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> go out. What if his
+friends arrived at the moment when he was out of the house?</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said, consulting his imaginary time-table, "there is no train
+now, for a couple of hours, at least."</p>
+
+<p>He took up his hat and turned to go. It struck him, however, that to
+provide against all possible accidents it would be as well to leave some
+written word upon his table, and he took up a sheet of writing paper and
+a pen. It was remarkable that there was a good supply of the former on
+the table, and that the inkstand contained ink in a fluid state, as
+though the Count were in the habit of using it daily. He wrote rapidly,
+in Russian.</p>
+
+<p>"This line is to inform you that Count Skariatine is momentarily absent
+from his lodging on a matter of urgent importance, connected with a
+personal engagement. He will return as soon as possible and requests
+that you will have the goodness to wait, if you should happen to arrive
+while he is out."</p>
+
+<p>He set the piece of notepaper upright, in a prominent position upon the
+table, and exactly opposite to the door. He did not indeed recollect
+that in the course of half an hour the room would be quite dark, and he
+was quite satisfied that he had taken every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> reasonable precaution
+against missing his visitors altogether. Once more he seized his hat,
+and a moment later he was descending the long flights of stairs towards
+the street. As he went, the magnitude of the sum of money he needed
+appalled him, and by the time he stepped out upon the pavement into the
+fresh evening air, he was in a state of excitement and anxiety which
+bordered on distraction. His brain refused to act any longer, and he was
+utterly incapable of thinking consecutively of anything, still less of
+solving a problem so apparently incapable of solution as was involved in
+the question of finding fifty marks at an hour's notice. It was
+practically of little use to repeat the words "Fifty marks" incessantly
+and in an audible voice, to the great surprise of the few pedestrians he
+met. It was far from likely that any of them would consider themselves
+called upon to stop in their walk and to produce two large gold pieces
+and a small one, for the benefit of an odd-looking stranger. And yet, as
+he hurried along the street, the poor Count had not the least idea where
+he was going, and if he should chance to reach any definite destination
+in his erratic course he would certainly be much puzzled to decide what
+he was to do upon his arrival. The one thing which remained clearly
+defined in his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> shaken intelligence was that he must pay to Fischelowitz
+the money promised within the limit of time agreed upon, or be disgraced
+for ever in his own eyes, as well as in the estimation of the world at
+large. The latter catastrophe would be bad enough, but nothing short of
+self-destruction could follow upon his condemnation of himself.</p>
+
+<p>A special Providence is said to watch over the movements of madmen,
+sleep-walkers and drunkards. Those who find difficulty in believing in
+the direct intervention of Heaven in very trivial matters of everyday
+life, are satisfied to put a construction of less tremendous import upon
+the facts in cases concerning the preservation of their irresponsible
+brethren. A great deal may be accounted for by considering what are the
+instincts of the body when momentarily liberated from the directing
+guidance of the mind. It has been already noticed in the course of this
+story that, when the Count did not know where he was going, he was
+generally making the best of his way to the establishment in which so
+much of his time was passed. This is exactly what took place on the
+present occasion. Conscious only of his debt, and not knowing where to
+find money with which to pay it, he was unwittingly hurrying towards the
+very place in which the payment was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> to be made, and, within a quarter
+of an hour of his leaving his lodging, he found himself standing on the
+pavement, over against the tobacconist's shop, stupidly gazing at the
+glass door, the well-known sign and the familiar, dilapidated chalet of
+cigarettes which held a prominent place in the show window. No longer
+ago than yesterday afternoon the little Swiss cottage had been flanked
+by the Wiener Gigerl, whose smart red coat and insolent face had been
+the cause of so much disaster and anxiety during the past twenty-four
+hours. The very fact that the doll was no longer there, in its
+accustomed place, served to remind the Count of his rash promise to pay
+the money and dangerously increased the excitement which already
+possessed him. He wiped the cold drops from his brow and leaned for a
+moment against the brick wall behind him. He was dizzy, confused and
+tired.</p>
+
+<p>The tormenting thought that was driving him recalled his failing
+consciousness of outer things. He straightened himself again and made a
+step forward, as though he would cross the street, but paused again
+before his foot had left the pavement. Then he asked of his senses how
+he had got to the place where he stood. He did not remember traversing
+the familiar highways and byways by which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> he was accustomed daily to
+make his way from his lodging to the shop. Every object on the way had
+long been so well known to him as to cause a permanent impression in his
+brain, which was distinctly visible to him whenever he thought of the
+walk in any way, whether he had just been over the ground or not. He
+could not now account to himself for his being so near Fischelowitz's
+shop, and he found it impossible to decide whether he had come thither
+by his usual route or not. It was still harder to explain the reason for
+his coming, since the fifty marks were no nearer to his hand than
+before, and without them it was useless to think of entering. As he
+stood there, hesitating and trying to grasp the situation more clearly,
+it grew, on the contrary, more and more confused. At the same time the
+bells of a neighbouring church struck the hour, and the clanging tone
+revived in his mind the other impression, which had possessed it all
+day, the impression that his friends were at that moment arriving at the
+railway station. The confusion in his thoughts became intolerable, and
+he covered his eyes with one hand, steadying himself by pressing the
+other against the wall.</p>
+
+<p>He did not know how long he had stood thus, when an anxious voice
+recalled him to outer things&mdash;a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> voice in which love, sympathy,
+tenderness and anxiety for him had taken possession of the weak tones
+and lent them a passing thrill of touching music.</p>
+
+<p>"In Heaven's name&mdash;what is it? Speak to me&mdash;I am Vjera&mdash;here, beside
+you."</p>
+
+<p>He looked up suddenly, and seemed to recover his self-possession.</p>
+
+<p>"You came just in time, Vjera&mdash;God bless you. I&mdash;" he hesitated. "I
+think&mdash;I must have been a little dizzy with the heat. It is a warm
+evening&mdash;a very warm evening."</p>
+
+<p>He pressed an old silk pocket-handkerchief to his moist brow, the
+pocket-handkerchief which he always had about him, freshly ironed and
+smoothly folded, on the day when he expected his friends. Vjera, her
+face pale with distress, passed her arm through his and made as though
+she would walk with him down the gentle slope of the street, which leads
+in the direction of the older city. He suffered himself to be led a few
+steps in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you going, Vjera?" he asked, stopping again and looking into
+her face.</p>
+
+<p>"Wherever you like," she said, trying to speak cheerfully. She saw that
+something terrible was happening, and it was only by a desperate effort<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>
+that she controlled the violent hysterical emotion that rose like a
+great lump in her throat.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, that is it, Vjera," he answered. "That is it. Where shall I go,
+child?" Then he laughed nervously. "The fact is," he continued, "that I
+am in a very absurd position. I do not at all know what to do."</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps he had tried to give himself courage by the attempt to laugh,
+but, in that case, he had failed for the present. In spite of his words
+his despair was evident. His usually erect carriage was gone. His head
+sank wearily forward, his shoulders rounded themselves as though under a
+burden, his feet dragged a little as he tried to walk on again, and he
+leaned heavily on the young girl's arm.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" she asked. "Tell me&mdash;perhaps I can help you&mdash;I mean&mdash;I beg
+your pardon," she added, humbly, "perhaps it would help you to speak of
+it. That sometimes makes things seem clearer just when they have been
+most confused."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps so, Vjera, perhaps so. You are a very good girl, and you came
+just in time. I love you, Vjera&mdash;do not forget that I love you." His
+voice was by turns sharp and suddenly low and monotonous, like that of a
+man talking in sleep. Altogether his manner was so strange that poor
+Vjera feared the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> very worst. The extremity of her anxiety kept her from
+losing her self-possession. For the first time in her life she felt that
+she was the stronger of the two, and that if he was to be saved it must
+be by her efforts rather than by anything he was now able to do for
+himself. She loved him, mad or sane, with an admiration and a devotion
+which took no account of his intellectual state except to grieve over it
+for his own sake. The belief that in this crisis she might be of use to
+him, strongly conquered the rising hysterical passion, and drove the
+tears so far from her eyes that she wondered vaguely why she had been so
+near to shedding them a few moments sooner. She pressed his arm with her
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>"And I, too, I love you, with all my heart and soul," she said. "And if
+you will tell me what has happened, I will do what I can&mdash;if it were my
+life that were needed. I know I can help you, for God will help me."</p>
+
+<p>He raised his head a little and again stood still, gazing into her eyes
+with an odd sort of childish wonder.</p>
+
+<p>"What makes you so strong, Vjera? You used to be a weak little thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Love," she answered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It was strange to see such a man, outwardly lean, tough-looking, well
+put together and active, though not, indeed, powerful, looking at the
+poor white-faced girl and asking the secret of her strength, as though
+he envied it. But at that moment, the natural situation was reversed.
+His eyes were lustreless, tired, without energy. Hers were suddenly
+bright and flashing with determination, and with the expression of her
+new-found will. Vjera felt that all at once a change had come over her,
+the weak strings of her heart grew strong, the dreamy hopelessness of
+her thoughts fell away, leaving one clearly defined resolution in its
+place. The man she loved was going mad, and she would save him, cost
+what it might.</p>
+
+<p>That Faith, no larger than the tiniest mustard seed, but able to toss
+the mountains, as pebbles, from their foundations into the sea, is the
+determination to do the thing chosen to be done or to die&mdash;literally, to
+die&mdash;in the trying to do it. Death is farther from most of us than we
+fancy, and if we would but risk all, to win or lose all, we could almost
+always do the deed which looks so grimly impossible. Those who have
+faced great physical dangers, or who have been matched by fate against
+overwhelming odds of anxiety and trouble, alone<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> know what great things
+are done when men stand at bay and face the world, and fate, and life,
+and death and misfortune, all banded together against them, and say in
+their hearts, "We will win this fight or die." Then, at that word, when
+it is spoken earnestly, in sincerity and truth, the iron will rises up
+and takes possession of the feeble body, the doubting soul shakes off
+its hesitating weakness, is drawn back upon itself like a strong bow
+bent double, is compressed and full of a terrible latent power, like the
+handful of deadly explosive which, buried in the bosom of the rock, will
+presently shake the mighty cliff to its roots, as no thunderbolt could
+shake it.</p>
+
+<p>Vjera had made up her mind that she would save the man she loved from
+the destruction which was coming upon him. How he was to be saved, she
+knew not, but then and there, on the pavement of the commonplace Munich
+street, she made her stand and faced the odds, as bravely as ever
+soldier faced the enemy's triumphant charge, though she was only a
+forlorn little Polish shell-maker, without much health or strength, and
+having very little understanding of the danger beyond that which was
+given to her by her love.</p>
+
+<p>She fixed her eyes upon the Count's face as though she would have him
+obey her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I will help you, and make everything right," she said. "But you must
+tell me what the trouble is."</p>
+
+<p>"But how can you help me, child?" he asked, beginning to grow calmer
+under her clear gaze. "It is such a very complicated case," he
+continued, falling back gradually into his own natural manner. "You see,
+my friends have probably arrived by this train, and yet I cannot go home
+until I have set this other matter right with Fischelowitz. It is true,
+I have left a word written for them on my table, and perhaps they are
+there now, waiting for me, and if I went home I could have the money at
+once. But then&mdash;it may be too late before I get here again&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What money?" asked Vjera, anxious to get at the truth without delay.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it is an absurd thing," he answered, growing nervous again. "Quite
+absurd&mdash;and yet, it is fifty marks&mdash;and until they come, I do not see
+what to do. Fifty marks&mdash;to-day it seems so much, and to-morrow it will
+seem so little!" He made a poor attempt to smile, but his voice
+trembled.</p>
+
+<p>"But these fifty marks&mdash;what do you need them for to-night?" Vjera
+asked, not understanding at all. "Will not to-morrow do as well?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no!" he cried in renewed anxiety. "It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> must be to-night, now, this
+very hour. If I do not pay the money, I am ruined, Vjera, disgraced for
+ever. It is a debt of honour&mdash;you do not understand what that means,
+child, nor how terrible it is for a man not to pay before the day is
+over&mdash;ah, if it were not a debt of honour!&mdash;but there is no time to be
+lost. It is almost dark already. Go home, dear Vjera, go home. I cannot
+go with you to-night, for I must find this money. Good-night&mdash;and then
+to-morrow&mdash;I have not forgotten, and you must not forget&mdash;but there is
+no time now&mdash;good-night!"</p>
+
+<p>He suddenly broke away from her side and began walking quickly in the
+opposite direction, his head bent down, his arms swinging by his side.
+She ran after him and again took his arm, and looked into his face.</p>
+
+<p>"You must not go away like this," she said, so firmly and with so much
+authority that he stood still. "You have only half explained the trouble
+to me, but I can help you. A debt of honour, you say&mdash;what will happen
+if you do not pay it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I must die," answered the Count. "I could never respect myself again."</p>
+
+<p>"You have borrowed this money of Fischelowitz and promised to pay it
+to-day? Is that it? Tell me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;I never borrowed it. No, no&mdash;it was that villain, last winter, who
+gave him the Gigerl&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And Fischelowitz expects you to pay that!" cried Vjera, indignantly.
+"It is impossible."</p>
+
+<p>"When I took the Gigerl away last night I promised to bring the fifty
+marks by to-night. I gave my word, my word as a gentleman, Vjera, which
+I cannot break&mdash;my word, as a gentleman," he repeated with something of
+his old dignity.</p>
+
+<p>"It is monstrous that Fischelowitz should have taken such a promise,"
+said Vjera.</p>
+
+<p>"That does not alter the obligation," answered the Count proudly.
+"Besides, I gave it of my own accord. I did not wait for him to ask it,
+after his wife accused me of being the means of his losing the money."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how could she be so heartless!" Vjera exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"What was the use of telling you? I did not mean to. Good-night, Vjera
+dear&mdash;I must be quick." He tried to leave her, but she held him fast.</p>
+
+<p>"I will get you the money at once," she said desperately and without the
+least hesitation. He started, in the utmost astonishment, staring at her
+as though he fancied that she had lost her senses.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You! Why, Vjera, how can you imagine that I would take it from you, or
+how do you think it would be possible for you to find it? You are mad,
+my dear child, quite mad!"</p>
+
+<p>In spite of everything, the tears broke from her eyes at the words which
+meant so much to her and which seemed to mean so little to him. But she
+brushed them bravely away.</p>
+
+<p>"You say you love me&mdash;you know that I love you. Do you trust me? Do you
+believe in me? And if you do, why then believe that I will do what I
+say. And as for taking the fifty marks from me&mdash;will not your friends be
+here to-night, as you say, and will you not be able to give it all back
+very soon? Only wait here&mdash;or no, go into the shop and talk to
+Fischelowitz&mdash;I will bring it to you in less than an hour, I promise you
+that I will&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But how? Oh, Vjera&mdash;I am in such trouble that I could almost bring
+myself to borrow it of you if you could lend it&mdash;I despise myself, but
+it is growing so late, and it will only be until to-morrow, only for a
+few hours perhaps. If you will wait to-night I may bring it to you
+before bedtime. But&mdash;are you sure, Vjera? Have you really got it? If I
+should wait here&mdash;and you should not find it&mdash;and my word should be
+broken&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"For your word I give you mine. You shall have it in an hour." She tried
+to throw so much certainty into her tone as might persuade him, and she
+succeeded. "Where will you wait for me? In the shop?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;not there. In the Caf&eacute; here&mdash;I am tired&mdash;I will sit down and drink
+a cup of coffee. I think I have a little money&mdash;enough for that." He
+smiled faintly as he felt in his pockets. Then his face fell. On the
+previous evening, when they had led him away from the eating-house, he
+had carelessly given all he had&mdash;a mark and two pennies&mdash;to pay for his
+supper, throwing it to the fat hostess without any reckoning, as he went
+out. "Never mind," he said, after the fruitless search. "I will wait
+outside."</p>
+
+<p>But Vjera thrust a silver piece into his hand and was gone before he
+could protest. And in this way she took upon herself the burden of the
+Count's debt of honour.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="r6118" id="r6118"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Vjera turned her head when she had reached the corner of the street, and
+saw that the Count had disappeared. He had entered the Caf&eacute;, and had
+evidently accepted her assurance that she would bring the money without
+delay. So far, at least, she had been successful. Though by far the most
+difficult portion of the enterprise lay before her, she was convinced
+that if she could really produce the fifty marks, the approaching
+catastrophe of total madness would be averted. Her determination was
+still so strong that she never doubted the possibility of performing her
+promise. Without hesitation, she returned to the shop, in search of
+Johann Schmidt, to whose energies and kindness she instinctively turned
+for counsel and help. As she came to the door she saw that he was just
+bidding good-night to his employer. She waited a moment and met him on
+the pavement as he came out.</p>
+
+<p>"I must have fifty marks in an hour, Herr Schmidt," she said, boldly.
+"If I do not get it, something dreadful will happen."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Fifty marks!" exclaimed the Cossack in a tone of amazement. If she had
+said fifty millions, the shock to his financial sense could not have
+been more severe. "It is an enormous sum," he said, slowly, while she
+fixed her eyes upon him, waiting for his answer. "What is the matter,
+Vjera? Have you not been able to pay your rent this year, and has old
+Homolka threatened to turn you out?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no! It is worse than that, far worse than that! If it were only
+myself&mdash;" she hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it? Who is it? Perhaps it is not so serious as you think. Tell
+me all about it."</p>
+
+<p>"There is very little time&mdash;only an hour. He is going mad&mdash;really mad,
+Herr Schmidt, because he has given his word of honour to pay Herr
+Fischelowitz that money this evening. I only calmed him, by promising to
+bring the money at once."</p>
+
+<p>"You promised that?" exclaimed Schmidt. "It was a very wild promise&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I will keep it, and you must help me. We have an hour. If we do not
+succeed he will never be himself again."</p>
+
+<p>"But fifty marks!" Schmidt could not recover from his astonishment. "Oh,
+Vjera!" he exclaimed at last, in the simplicity of his heart, "how you
+must love him!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I would do more than that&mdash;if I could," she answered. "But come, you
+will help me, will you not? I have a ten-mark piece and an old thaler
+put away at home. That makes thirteen, and two I have in my pocket,
+fifteen and&mdash;I am afraid that is all," she concluded after a slight
+hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>"And five are twenty," said the Cossack, producing the six which he had,
+and taking one silver piece out of the number to be returned to his
+pocket. The children must not starve on the morrow.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank you, Herr Schmidt!" cried poor Vjera in a joyful voice as she
+eagerly took the proffered coins. "Twenty already! Why, twenty-five will
+be half, will it not? And I am sure that we can find the rest, then."</p>
+
+<p>"There is Dumnoff," said Schmidt. "He probably has something, too."</p>
+
+<p>"But I could not borrow of him&mdash;besides, if he knew it was for the
+Count&mdash;and he is so rough&mdash;he would not give it to us."</p>
+
+<p>"We shall see," answered the other, who knew his man. "Wait a moment. He
+is still inside."</p>
+
+<p>He re-entered the shop, where Fischelowitz and his wife were conversing
+under the gaslight.</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you," Akulina was saying, "that it is high time you got rid of
+him. The new workman from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> Vilna will take his place, and it is
+positively ridiculous to be made to submit to this madman's humours, and
+impertinence. What sort of a man are you, Christian Gregorovitch, to let
+the fellow carry off your Gigerl, with his airy promise to pay you the
+money to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"The Gigerl was broken," observed the tobacconist.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it could have been mended; and if it was really stolen, was that
+our business, I would like to know? Nobody would ever have supposed,
+seeing it in our window, that it had been stolen. And it could have been
+mended, as I say, and might have been worth something after all. You
+never really tried to sell it, as you ought to have done from the very
+first. And now you have got nothing at all, nothing but that insolent
+maniac's promise. If I were you I would take the money out of his wages,
+I would indeed!"</p>
+
+<p>"No doubt you would," said Fischelowitz, with sincere conviction.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Schmidt had gone into the back shop, where Dumnoff was still
+doggedly working, making up for the time he had lost by coming late in
+the morning. He was alone at his little table.</p>
+
+<p>"How much money have you got?" asked the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> Cossack, briefly. Dumnoff
+looked up rather stupidly, dropped the cigarette he was making, and felt
+in his pocket for his change. He produced five marks, an unusual sum for
+him to have in his possession, and which would not have found itself in
+his hands had not his arrest on the previous evening prevented his
+spending considerably more than he had spent in his favourite
+corn-brandy.</p>
+
+<p>"I want it all," said Schmidt.</p>
+
+<p>"You are a cool-blooded fellow," laughed Dumnoff, making as though he
+would return the coins to his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, Dumnoff," answered the Cossack, his bright eyes gleaming. "I
+want that money. You know me, and you had better give it to me without
+making any trouble."</p>
+
+<p>Dumnoff seemed confused by the sharpness of the demand, and hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"You seem in a great hurry," he said, with an awkward laugh, "I suppose
+you mean to give it back to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"You shall have it at the rate of a mark a day in the next five work
+days. You will get your pay this evening and that will be quite enough
+for you to get drunk with to-night."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That is true," said Dumnoff, thoughtfully. "Well, take it," he added,
+slipping the money into the other's outstretched palm.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said the Cossack. "You are not so bad as you look, Dumnoff.
+Good-night." He was gone in a moment.</p>
+
+<p>Dumnoff stared at the door through which he had disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>"After all," he muttered, discontentedly, "he could not have taken it by
+force. I wonder why I was such a fool as to give it to him!"</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you," said Akulina to her husband as Schmidt passed through the
+outer shop, "that he will end by costing us so much in money lent, and
+squandered in charity, that the business will go to dust and feathers! I
+am only a weak woman, Christian Gregorovitch, but I have four
+children&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The Cossack heard no more, for he closed the street door behind him and
+returned to Vjera's side. She was standing as he had left her, absorbed
+in the contemplation of the financial crisis.</p>
+
+<p>"Five more," said he, giving her the silver. "That is one half. Now for
+the other. But are you quite sure, Vjera, that it is as bad as you
+think? I know that Fischelowitz does not in the least expect the
+money."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;I daresay not. But I know this, if I had not met him just now and
+promised to bring him the fifty marks, he would have been raving mad
+before morning." Schmidt saw by her look that she was convinced of the
+fact.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," he said. "I am not going to turn back now. The poor Count
+has done me many a good turn in his time, and I will do my best, though
+I do not exactly see what more I can do, at such short notice."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you got anything worth pawning, Herr Schmidt?" asked Vjera,
+ruthless, as devoted people can be when the object of their devotion is
+in danger.</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;I have not much that I can spare. There is the bed&mdash;but my wife
+cannot sleep on the floor, though I would myself. And there are a few
+pots and pans in the kitchen&mdash;not worth much, and I do not know what we
+should do without them. I do not know, I am sure. I cannot take the
+children's things, Vjera, even for you."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Vjera doubtfully. "I suppose not. Of course not!" she
+exclaimed, immediately afterwards, with an attempt to express
+conviction.</p>
+
+<p>"There is one thing&mdash;there is the old samovar," continued the Cossack.
+"It has a leak in one side,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> and we make the tea as we can, when we have
+any. But I remember that I once pawned it, years ago, for five marks."</p>
+
+<p>"That would make thirty," said Vjera promptly.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not believe they would lend so much on it now, though it is good
+metal. It is a little battered, besides being leaky."</p>
+
+<p>"Let us get it," said Vjera, beginning to walk briskly on. "I have
+something, too, though I do not know what it is worth. It is an old skin
+of a wolf&mdash;my father killed it inside the village, just before we came
+away."</p>
+
+<p>"A wolf skin!" exclaimed Schmidt. "That may be worth something, if it is
+good."</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid it is not very good," answered Vjera doubtfully. "The hair
+comes out. I think it must have been a mangy wolf. And there is a bad
+hole on one side."</p>
+
+<p>"It was probably badly cured," said the Cossack, who understood furs.
+"But I can mend the hole in five minutes, so that nobody will see it."</p>
+
+<p>"We will get it, too. But I am afraid that it will not be nearly enough
+to make up the twenty-five marks. They could not possibly give us twenty
+marks for the skin, could they?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed, unless you could sell it to some one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> who does not
+understand those things. And the samovar will not bring five, as I said.
+We must find something else."</p>
+
+<p>"Let us get the samovar first," said Vjera decisively. "I will wait
+downstairs till you get it, and then you will wait for me where I live,
+and after that we will go together. I may find something else. Indeed, I
+must, or we shall not have enough."</p>
+
+<p>They walked rapidly through the deepening shadows towards Schmidt's
+home. Vjera moved, as people do, who are possessed by an idea which must
+be put into immediate execution, her head high, her eyes full of light,
+her lips set, her step firm. Her companion was surprised to find that he
+needed to walk fast in order to keep by her side. He looked at her
+often, as he had looked all day, with an expression that showed at once
+much interest, considerable admiration and some pity. If he had not been
+lately brought to some new opinion concerning the girl he would
+certainly not have entered into her wild scheme for calming the Count's
+excitement without at least arguing the case lengthily, and discussing
+all the difficulties which presented themselves to his imagination. As
+it was, he felt himself carried away by a sort of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> enthusiasm in her
+cause, which would have led him to make even greater sacrifices than he
+had it in his power to offer. So strong was this feeling that he felt
+called upon to make a sort of apology.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry I cannot do more to help you," he said regretfully. "It is
+very little I know, but then, you see I am not alone in the world,
+Vjera. There are others to be thought of. And besides, I have just paid
+the rent, and there are no savings left."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Herr Schmidt," answered Vjera gratefully, "you are doing too much
+already&mdash;but I cannot help taking all you give me, though I can thank
+you for it with all my heart."</p>
+
+<p>They did not speak again during the next few minutes, until they reached
+the door of the house in which the Cossack lived.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall only need a moment," he said, as he dived into the dark
+entrance.</p>
+
+<p>He lost so little time, that it seemed to Vjera as though the echo of
+his steps had not died away upon the stairs before she heard his
+footfall again as he descended. This time, however, there was a rattle
+and clatter of metal to be heard as well as his quick tread and the loud
+creaking of his coarse, stiff shoes. He emerged into the street with the
+body of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> samovar under one arm. The movable brass chimney of the
+machine was sticking out of one of his pockets, and in his left hand he
+had its little tray, with the rings and other pieces belonging to the
+whole. Amongst those latter objects, which he grasped tightly in his
+fingers, there figured also the fragment of a small spoon of which the
+bowl had been broken from the handle.</p>
+
+<p>"It is silver," he said, referring to the latter utensil, as he held up
+the whole handful before Vjera's eyes. "But if we can find a jeweller's
+shop open, we will sell it. We can get more for it in that way. And now
+your wolf's skin, Vjera. And be sure to bring me a needle and some
+strong thread when you come down. I can mend the hole by the gaslight in
+the street, for Homolka would not understand it if he saw me going to
+your room, you know."</p>
+
+<p>She helped him to put all the smaller things into his pockets, so that
+he had only the samovar itself, and its metal tray to carry in his
+hands, and then they went briskly on towards Vjera's lodging.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think we shall get three marks for the little spoon?" she asked,
+constantly preoccupied by her calculations.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes," Schmidt answered cheerfully. "We<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> may get five. It is good
+silver, and they buy silver by weight."</p>
+
+<p>A few moments later she stood still before a narrow shop which was
+lighted within, though there was no lamp in the windows. It was that of
+a small watchmaker and jeweller, and a few silver watches and some cheap
+chains and trinkets were visible behind the glass pane.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps he may buy the spoon," suggested Vjera, anxious to lose no
+time.</p>
+
+<p>Without a word Schmidt entered the shop, while the girl stood outside.
+In less than five minutes he came out again with something in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Three and a half," he said, handing her the money.</p>
+
+<p>"I had hoped it would be worth more," she answered, putting the coins
+with the rest.</p>
+
+<p>"No. He weighed it with silver marks. It weighed just four of them, and
+he said he must have half a mark to make it worth his while."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said Vjera, "it is always something. I have twenty-eight
+and a half now."</p>
+
+<p>When they reached her lodging Schmidt set down the samovar upon the
+pavement and made himself a cigarette, while he waited for her. She was
+gone a long time, as it seemed to him, and he was beginning to wonder
+whether anything had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> happened, when she suddenly made her appearance,
+noiseless in her walk, as always. The old wolf's skin was hung over one
+shoulder, and she carried besides a limp-looking brown paper parcel,
+tied with a bit of folded ribband. As he caught sight of her face in the
+light of the street lamp, Schmidt fancied that she was paler than
+before, and that her cheek was wet.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry I was so long," she said. "The little sister cried because I
+would not stay, and I had to quiet her. Here is the skin. Do you see? I
+am afraid this is a very big hole&mdash;and the hair comes out in handfuls.
+Look at it."</p>
+
+<p>"It was a very old wolf," remarked the Cossack, holding the skin up
+under the gaslight.</p>
+
+<p>"Does that make it worth less?" asked Vjera anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Not of itself; on the contrary. And I can mend the hole, if you have
+the thread and needle. The worst thing about it all is the way the hairs
+fall out. I am afraid the moths have been at it, Vjera." He shook his
+head gravely. "I am afraid the moths have done a great deal of damage."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, if I had only known&mdash;I would have been so careful! And to think
+that it might have been worth something."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It is worth something as it is, but at the pawnbroker's they will not
+lend much on it." He took the threaded needle, which she had not
+forgotten, and sitting down upon the edge of the pavement spread the
+skin upon his knees with the fur downwards. Then he quickly began to
+draw the hole together, sewing it firmly with the furrier's cross
+stitch, and so neatly that the seam looked like a single straight line
+on the side of the leather, while it was quite invisible in the fur on
+the other.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the other thing you have brought?" he inquired without looking
+up from his work. The light was bad, and he had to bend his eyes close
+to the sewing.</p>
+
+<p>"It is something I may be able to sell," said Vjera in a rather unsteady
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Silver?" asked Schmidt, cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no&mdash;not silver&mdash;something dearer," she said, almost under her
+breath. "I am afraid it is very hard for you to see," she added quickly,
+attempting to avoid his questions. "Do you not think that I could hold a
+match for you, to make a little more light? You always have some with
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a moment&mdash;yes&mdash;I have almost finished the seam&mdash;here is the box.
+Now, if you can hold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> the match just there, just over the needle, and
+keep it from going out, I can finish the end off neatly."</p>
+
+<p>Vjera knelt down beside him and held the flickering bit of wood as well
+as she was able. They made a strange picture, out in the unfrequented
+street, the dim glare of the gaslight above them, and the redder flame
+of the match making odd tints and shadows in their faces. Vjera's shawl
+had slipped back from her head and her thick tress of red-brown hair had
+found its way over her shoulder. An artist, strolling supperwards from
+his studio, came down their side of the way. He stopped and looked at
+them.</p>
+
+<p>"Has anything happened?" he asked kindly. "Can I be of any use?"</p>
+
+<p>Vjera looked up with a frightened glance. The Cossack paid no attention
+to the stranger.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, thank you&mdash;thank you, sir, it is nothing&mdash;only a little piece of
+work to finish."</p>
+
+<p>The artist gave one more look and passed on, wishing that he could have
+had pencil and paper and light at his command for five minutes.</p>
+
+<p>"There," said Schmidt triumphantly. "It is done, and very well done. And
+now for the pawn-shop, Vjera!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Vjera took the skin over her arm and her companion picked up the samovar
+with its tray, and they moved on again. Vjera's face was pale and sad,
+but she seemed more confident of success than ever, and her step was
+elastic and hopeful. Johann Schmidt's curiosity was very great, as has
+been seen on previous occasions. He did his best to control it, for some
+time, only trying to guess from the general appearance of the limp
+parcel what it might contain. But his ingenuity failed to solve the
+problem. At last he could bear it no longer. They were entering the
+street where the pawnbroker's shop was situated when his resolution
+broke down.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it a piece of lace?" he asked at a venture. "If it is, you know, and
+if it is good, it may be worth all the other things together."</p>
+
+<p>"No. It is not a piece of lace," answered the girl. "I will tell you
+what it is, if we do not get enough without it."</p>
+
+<p>"I only thought," explained the Cossack, "that if we were going to try
+and pawn it, I had better know&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We cannot pawn it," said Vjera decisively. "It will have to be sold.
+Let us go in together." She spoke the last words as they reached the
+door of the pawn-shop.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I could save you the trouble," Schmidt suggested, offering to take the
+wolf's skin. But Vjera would not give it up. She felt that she must see
+everything done herself, if only to distract her thoughts from more
+painful matters.</p>
+
+<p>The place was half full of people, most of them with anxious faces, and
+all having some object or other in their hands. The pawn-shops do their
+best business in the evening. A man and a woman, both advanced in middle
+age, well fed, parsimoniously washed and possessing profiles of an
+outline disquieting to Christian prejudices, leaned over the counter,
+handled the articles offered them, consulted each other in
+incomprehensible monosyllables, talked volubly to the customers in oily
+undertones and from time to time counted out small doses of change which
+they gave to the eager recipients, accompanied by little slips of paper
+on which there were both printed and written words. The room was warm
+and redolent of poverty. A broad flame of gas burned, without a shade,
+over the middle of the counter.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of their unctuous tones the Hebrew and his wife did their
+business rapidly, with sharpness and decision. Either one of them would
+have undertaken to name the precise pawning value of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> anything on earth
+and, possibly, of most things in heaven, provided that the universe were
+brought piecemeal to their counter. Both Vjera and Schmidt had been made
+acquainted by previous necessities with the establishment. Vjera held
+her paper parcel in her hand. The other things were laid together upon
+the counter. The Hebrew woman glanced at the samovar, felt the weight of
+it and turned it once round.</p>
+
+<p>"Leaky," she observed in her smooth voice. "Old brass. One mark and a
+half." Her husband put out his hand, touched the machine, lifted it, and
+nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Only a mark and a half!" exclaimed Vjera. "And the skin, how much for
+that?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is a genuine Russian wolf," Schmidt put in. "And it is very large."</p>
+
+<p>"Moth-eaten," said the Jewess. "And there is a hole in the side. Five
+marks."</p>
+
+<p>Schmidt held the fur up to the light and blew into it with a
+professional air, as furriers do.</p>
+
+<p>"Look at that!" he cried, persuasively. "Why, it is worth twenty!"</p>
+
+<p>The Hebrew lady, instead of answering extended a fat thumb and a plump,
+pointed forefinger, and pinching a score of hairs between the two,
+pulled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> them out without effort, and then held them close to the
+Cossack's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Five marks," she repeated, getting the money out and preparing to fill
+in a couple of pawn-tickets.</p>
+
+<p>"Make it ten, with the samovar!" entreated Vjera. The Jewess smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think the samovar is of gold?" she inquired. "Six and a half for
+the two. Take it or leave it."</p>
+
+<p>Vjera looked at Schmidt anxiously as though to ask his opinion.</p>
+
+<p>"They will not give more," he said, in Russian.</p>
+
+<p>The girl took the money and the flimsy tickets and they went out into
+the street. Vjera hesitated as to the direction she should take, and
+Schmidt looked to her as though awaiting her orders.</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty-eight and a half and six and a half are thirty-five," she said,
+thoughtfully. "And we have nothing more to give, but this. I must sell
+it, Herr Schmidt."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what is it?" he asked, glad to know the secret at last.</p>
+
+<p>"It is my mother's hair. She cut it off herself when she knew she was
+dying and she told me to sell it if ever I needed a little money."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The girl's voice trembled violently, and she turned her head away.
+Schmidt was silent and very grave. Then Vjera began to move on again,
+clutching the precious thing to her bosom and drawing her shawl over it.</p>
+
+<p>"The best man for this lives in the Maffei Strasse," said Schmidt after
+a few minutes.</p>
+
+<p>"Show me the way." Vjera turned as he directed. At that moment she would
+have lost herself in the familiar streets, had he not been there to
+guide her.</p>
+
+<p>The hairdresser's shop was brilliantly lighted, and as good fortune
+would have it, there were no customers within. With an entreating glance
+which he obeyed, Vjera made Schmidt wait outside.</p>
+
+<p>"Please do not look!" she whispered. "I can bear it better alone." The
+good fellow nodded and began to walk up and down.</p>
+
+<p>As Vjera entered the shop, the chief barber in command waltzed forward,
+as hairdressers always seem to waltz. At the sight of the poor girl,
+however, he assumed a stern appearance which, to tell the truth, was out
+of character with his style of beauty. His rich brown locks were curled
+and anointed in a way that might have aroused envy in the heart of an
+Assyrian dandy in the palmy days of Sardanapalus.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Do you buy hair?" asked Vjera, timidly offering her limp parcel.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, certainly, sometimes," answered the barber. The youth in
+attendance&mdash;the barber tadpole of the hairdresser frog&mdash;abandoned the
+cleansing of a comb and came forward with a leer, in the hope that Vjera
+might turn out to be pretty on a closer inspection. In this he was
+disappointed.</p>
+
+<p>The man took the parcel and laid it on one of the narrow marble tables
+placed before a mirror in a richly gilt frame. He pushed aside the blue
+glass powder-box, the vial of brilliantine and the brushes. Vjera untied
+the bit of faded ribband herself and opened the package. The contents
+exhaled a faint, sickly odour.</p>
+
+<p>A tress of beautiful hair, of unusual length and thickness, lay in the
+paper. The colour was that which is now so much sought after, and which
+great ladies endeavour to produce upon their own hair, when they have
+any, by washing it with extra-dry champagne, while little ladies imitate
+them with a humble solution of soda. The colour in question is a
+reddish-brown with rich golden lights in it, and it is very rare in
+nature.</p>
+
+<p>The barber eyed the thick plait with a businesslike expression.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The colour is not so bad," he remarked, as though suggesting that it
+might have been very much better.</p>
+
+<p>"Surely, it is very beautiful hair!" said Vjera, her heart almost
+breaking at the sight of the tenderly treasured heirloom.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the man snuffed the odour, lifted the tress to his nose, and
+smelt it. Then he laid it down again and took the thicker end, which was
+tied tightly with a ribband, in his hands, pulling at the short lengths
+of hair which projected beyond the knot. They broke very easily, with an
+odd, soft snap.</p>
+
+<p>"It is worth nothing at all," said the barber decisively. "It is a pity,
+for it is a very pretty colour."</p>
+
+<p>Vjera started, and steadied herself against the back of the professional
+chair which stood by the table.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing?" she repeated, half stupid with the pain of her
+disappointment. "Nothing? not even fifteen marks?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing. It is rotten, and could not be worked. The hairs break like
+glass."</p>
+
+<p>Vjera pressed her left hand to her side as though something hurt her.
+The tadpole youth grinned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> idiotically and the barber seemed anxious to
+end the interview.</p>
+
+<p>With a look of broken-hearted despair the girl turned to the table and
+began to do up her parcel again. Her shawl fell to the ground as she
+moved. Then the tadpole nudged his employer and pointed at Vjera's long,
+red-brown braid, and grinned again from ear to ear.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it fifteen marks that you want?" asked the man.</p>
+
+<p>"Fifteen&mdash;yes&mdash;I must have fifteen," repeated Vjera in dull tones.</p>
+
+<p>"I will give it to you for your own hair," said the barber with a short
+laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"For my own?" cried Vjera, suddenly turning round. It had never occurred
+to her that her own tress could be worth anything. "For my own?" she
+repeated as though not believing her ears.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;let me see," said the man. "Turn your head again, please. Let me
+see. Yes, yes, it is good hair of the kind, though it has not the gold
+lights in it that the other had. But, to oblige you, I will give you
+fifteen for it."</p>
+
+<p>"But I must have the money now," said Vjera, suspiciously. "You must
+give me the money now, to take with me. I cannot wait."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The barber smiled, and produced a gold piece and five silver ones.</p>
+
+<p>"You may hold the money in your hand," he said, offering it to her,
+"while you sit down and I do the work."</p>
+
+<p>Vjera clutched the coins fiercely and placed herself in the big chair
+before the mirror. She could see in the glass that her eyes were on
+fire. The barber loosened a screw in the back of the seat and removed
+the block with the cushion, handing it to his assistant.</p>
+
+<p>"The scissors, and a comb, Anton," he said briskly, lifting at the same
+time the heavy tress and judging its weight. The reflection of the steel
+flashed in the mirror, as the artist quickly opened and shut the
+scissors, with that peculiar shuffling jingle which only barbers can
+produce.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a minute!" cried Vjera, with sudden anxiety, and turning her head
+as though to draw away her hair from his grasp. "One
+minute&mdash;please&mdash;fifteen and thirty-five are really fifty, are they not?"</p>
+
+<p>The tadpole began to count on his fingers, whispering audibly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," answered the barber. "Fifteen and thirty-five are fifty."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The tadpole desisted, having already got into mathematical difficulties
+in counting from one hand over to the other.</p>
+
+<p>"Then cut it off quickly, please!" said poor Vjera, settling herself in
+the chair again, and giving her head to the shears.</p>
+
+<p>In the silence that followed, only the soft jingle of the scissors was
+heard.</p>
+
+<p>"There!" exclaimed the hairdresser, holding up a hand-mirror behind her.
+"I have been generous, you see. I have not cut it very short. See for
+yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said Vjera. "You are very kind." She saw nothing, indeed,
+but she was satisfied, and rose quickly.</p>
+
+<p>She tied up the limp parcel with the same old piece of faded ribband,
+and a little colour suddenly came into her face as she pressed it to her
+bosom. All at once, she lost control of herself, and with a sharp sob
+the tears gushed out. She stooped a little and drew her shawl over her
+head to hide her face. The tears wet her hands and the brown paper, and
+fell down to the greasy marble floor of the shop.</p>
+
+<p>"It will grow again very soon," said the barber, not unkindly. He
+supposed, naturally enough, that she was weeping over her sacrifice.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh no! It is not that!" she cried. "I am so&mdash;so happy to have kept
+this!" Then, without another word, she slipped noiselessly out into the
+street, clasping the precious relic to her breast.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="r4579" id="r4579"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>"I have got it&mdash;I have got it all!" cried Vjera, as she came up with
+Schmidt on the pavement. His quick eye caught sight of the parcel, only
+half hidden by her shawl.</p>
+
+<p>"But you have brought the hair away with you," he said, in some anxiety,
+and fearing a mistake or some new trouble.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she answered. "That is the best of it." Her tears had disappeared
+as suddenly as they had come, and she could now hardly restrain the
+nervous laughter that rose to her lips.</p>
+
+<p>"But how is that?" asked Schmidt, stopping.</p>
+
+<p>"I gave them my own," she laughed, hysterically. "I gave them my
+own&mdash;instead. Quick, quick&mdash;there is no time to lose. Is it an hour yet,
+since I left him?" She ran along, and Schmidt found it hard to keep
+beside her without running, too. At last he broke into a sort of
+jog-trot. In five minutes they were at the door of the caf&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>The Count was sitting at a small table near the door, an empty
+coffee-cup before him, staring with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> a fixed look at the opposite wall.
+There were few people in the place, as the performances at the theatres
+had already begun. Vjera entered alone.</p>
+
+<p>"I have brought you the money," she said, joyfully, as she stood beside
+him and laid a hand upon his arm to attract his attention, for he had
+not noticed her coming.</p>
+
+<p>"The money?" he said, excitedly. "The fifty marks? You have got it?"</p>
+
+<p>She sat down at the table, and began to count the gold and silver,
+producing it from her pocket in instalments of four or five coins, and
+making little heaps of them before him.</p>
+
+<p>"It is all there&mdash;every penny of it," she said, counting the piles
+again.</p>
+
+<p>The poor man's eyes seemed starting from his head, as he leaned eagerly
+forward over the money.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it real? Is it true?" he asked in a low voice. "Oh, Vjera, do not
+laugh at me&mdash;is it really true, child?"</p>
+
+<p>"Really true&mdash;fifty marks." Her pale face beamed with pleasure. "And now
+you can go and pay Fischelowitz at once," she added.</p>
+
+<p>But he leaned back a moment in his chair, looking at her intently. Then
+his eyes grew moist, and, when he spoke, his voice quivered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"May God forgive me for taking it of you," he said. "You have saved me,
+Vjera&mdash;saved my honour, my life&mdash;all. God bless you, dear, God bless
+you! I am very, very thankful."</p>
+
+<p>He put the coins carefully together and wrapped them in his silk
+handkerchief, and rose from his seat. He had already paid for his cup of
+coffee. They went out together. The Cossack had disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>"You have saved my life and my honour&mdash;my honour and my life," repeated
+the Count, softly and dwelling on the words in a dreamy way.</p>
+
+<p>"I will wait outside," said Vjera as they reached the tobacconist's
+shop, a few seconds later.</p>
+
+<p>The Count turned to her and laid both hands upon her shoulders, looking
+into her face.</p>
+
+<p>"You cannot understand what you have done for me," he said earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>He stooped, for he was much taller than she, and closing his tired eyes
+for a moment, he pressed his lips upon her waxen forehead. Before he had
+seen the bright blush that glowed in her cheeks, he had entered the
+shop.</p>
+
+<p>Akulina was seated in one corner, apparently in a bad humour, for her
+dark face was flushed, and her small eyes looked up savagely at the
+Count. Her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> husband was leaning over the counter, smoking and making a
+series of impressions in violet ink upon the back of an old letter, with
+an india-rubber stamp in which the word "Celebrated Manufactory" held a
+prominent place. He nodded familiarly.</p>
+
+<p>"Herr Fischelowitz," said the Count, regaining suddenly his dignity of
+manner and bearing, "in the course of the conversation last evening, I
+said that I would to-day refund the fifty marks which you once lent to
+that atrocious young man who wore green glasses. I daresay you remember
+the circumstance?"</p>
+
+<p>"I had quite forgotten it," said Fischelowitz. "Please do not allow it
+to trouble you, my dear Count. I never considered you responsible for
+it, and of course you cannot&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It is a shame!" Akulina broke in, angrily. "You ought to make him pay
+it out of what he earns, since he took the Gigerl!"</p>
+
+<p>"Madam," said the Count, addressing her with great civility, "if it is
+agreeable to you, we will not discuss the matter. I only reminded Herr
+Fischelowitz of what took place because&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Because you have no money&mdash;of course!" interrupted Akulina.</p>
+
+<p>"On the contrary, because I have brought the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> money, and shall be
+obliged to you if you will count it."</p>
+
+<p>Akulina's jaw dropped, and Fischelowitz looked up in amazement. The
+Count produced his knotted handkerchief and laid it on the table.</p>
+
+<p>"I only wish you to understand," he said, speaking to Akulina, "that
+when a gentleman gives his word he keeps it. Will you do me the favour
+to count the money?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, it is no business of ours to find out how he got it,"
+observed Akulina, rising and coming forward.</p>
+
+<p>"None whatever, madam," answered the Count, spreading out the coins
+which had been collected by loving hands from so many sources. "The only
+question is, to ascertain whether there are fifty marks here or not."</p>
+
+<p>Fischelowitz stood looking on. He had not yet recovered from his
+surprise, and was half afraid that there might be something wrong. But
+the practical Akulina lost no time in assuring herself that the sum was
+complete. As she realised this fact, her features relaxed into a
+pleasant smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Count," she said, "we are very much obliged to you for this. It
+is very honest of you, for of course, you were not exactly called
+upon&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I understood you to say that I was," replied the Count, gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that was yesterday, and I am very sorry if I annoyed you. But let
+bygones be bygones! I hope there is no ill-will between us?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, none at all," returned the other indifferently. "I have the honour
+to wish you a very good evening." Without waiting for more, the Count
+bowed and left the shop.</p>
+
+<p>"Akulina," said Fischelowitz, thoughtfully, as the door closed, "that
+man is a gentleman, say what you please."</p>
+
+<p>"A pretty gentleman," laughed Akulina, putting the money into the till.
+"A gentleman indeed&mdash;why, look at his coat!"</p>
+
+<p>"And you are a fool, Akulina," added Fischelowitz, handling his
+india-rubber stamp.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you; but for my foolery you would be fifty marks poorer to-night,
+Christian Gregorovitch. A gentleman, pah!"</p>
+
+<p>The Count had drawn Vjera's willing arm through his, and they were
+walking slowly away together.</p>
+
+<p>"I must be going home," she said, reluctantly. "The little sister will
+be crying for me. I cannot leave her any longer."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Not till I have thanked you, dear," he answered, pressing her arm to
+his side. "But I will go with you to your door, and thank you all the
+way&mdash;though the way is far too short for all I have to say."</p>
+
+<p>"I have done nothing&mdash;it has really cost me nothing." Vjera squeezed her
+limp parcel under her shawl, and felt that she was speaking the truth.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot believe that, Vjera," said the Count. "You could not have
+found so much money so quickly, without making some great sacrifice. But
+I will give it back to you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no&mdash;no," she cried, earnestly. "Make no promises to me. Think what
+this promise has cost you. When you have the money, you may give it back
+if you choose&mdash;but it would make me so unhappy if you promised."</p>
+
+<p>"Would it, child? And yet, my friends are waiting for me, and they have
+money for me, too. Then, I will only say that I will give it back to you
+as soon as possible. Is that right?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;and nothing more than that. And as for thanking me&mdash;what have I
+done that needs thanks? Would you not have done as much for me if&mdash;if,
+for instance, I had been ill, and could not pay the rent of the room?
+And then&mdash;think of the happiness I have had!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The words were spoken so simply and it was so clear that they were true,
+that the Count found it hard to answer. Not because he had nothing to
+express, but because the words for the expression could not be found.
+Again he pressed her arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Vjera," he said, when they had walked some distance farther, "it is of
+no use to speak of this. There is that between you and me which makes
+speech contemptible and words ridiculous. There is only one thing that I
+can do, Vjera dearest. I can love you, dear, with all my heart. Will you
+take my love for thanks&mdash;and my devotion for gratitude? Will you, dear?
+Will you remember what you promised and what I promised last night? As
+soon as all is right, to-morrow, will you be my wife?"</p>
+
+<p>"If it could ever be!" sighed the poor girl, recalled suddenly to the
+remembrance of his pitiful infirmity.</p>
+
+<p>"It can be, it shall be and it will be," he answered in tones of
+conviction. "They are waiting for me now, Vjera, in my little room&mdash;but
+they may wait, for I will not lose a moment of your dear company for
+them all. They are waiting for me with the money and the papers and the
+orders. I have waited long for them, they can afford to have a little
+patience<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> now. And to-morrow, at this time, we shall be together, Vjera,
+in the train&mdash;I will have a special carriage for you and me, and then, a
+night and a day and another night and we shall be at home&mdash;for ever. How
+happy we shall be! Will you not be happy with me, darling? Why do you
+sigh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Did I sigh?" asked Vjera, trying to laugh a little.</p>
+
+<p>He hardly noticed the question, but began to talk again, as he had
+talked on the previous evening, describing all that he meant to do, and
+all that they would do together. Vjera heard and tried not to listen.
+Her joy was all gone. The great, overwhelming pleasure she had felt in
+dispelling his anxiety and in averting what had seemed a near and
+terrible catastrophe, gave place to the old, heartrending pity for him,
+as he rambled on in his delusion. She had hoped that, as it was late on
+Wednesday evening, the time of it was passed and that, for another week,
+he would talk no more of his friends and his money and his return to
+fortune. But the fixed idea was there still, as dominant as ever. Her
+light tread grew weary and her head sank forward as she walked. For one
+short hour she had felt the glory of sacrificing all she had to give, to
+her love. Are there many who have felt as much, with as good reason, in
+a whole lifetime?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But the hour was gone, taking with it the reality and leaving in its
+place a memory, fair, brilliant, and dear as the tress of golden hair
+Vjera was carrying home in her parcel, but as useless perhaps and as
+valueless in the world of realities as that had proved to be.</p>
+
+<p>They reached her door and stopped in their walk. She looked up sadly
+into his eyes, as she held out her hand. He hesitated a moment, and then
+threw both his arms round her and drew her to his heart and kissed her
+passionately again and again. She tried to draw back.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, no!" she cried. "It cannot be so to-morrow&mdash;why should you kiss
+me to-day?" But he would not let her go. She loved him, though she knew
+he was mad, and she let her head fall upon his shoulder, and allowed
+herself to believe in love for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly she felt that he was startled by something.</p>
+
+<p>"Vjera!" he cried. "Have you cut off your beautiful hair? What have you
+done, child? How could you do it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was so heavy," she said, looking up with a bright smile. "It made my
+head ache&mdash;it is best so."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But he was not satisfied, for he guessed something of the truth, and the
+pain and horror that thrilled him told him that he had guessed rightly.</p>
+
+<p>"You have cut it off&mdash;and you have sold it&mdash;you have sold your hair for
+me&mdash;" he stammered in a broken voice.</p>
+
+<p>She hung her head a little.</p>
+
+<p>"I always meant to cut it off. I did not care for it, you know. And
+besides," she added, suddenly looking up again, "you will not love me
+less, will you? They said it would grow again&mdash;you will not love me
+less?"</p>
+
+<p>"Love you less? Ah, Vjera, that promise I may make at least&mdash;never&mdash;to
+the end of ends!"</p>
+
+<p>"And yet," she answered, "if it should all be true&mdash;if it only
+should&mdash;you could not&mdash;oh, I should not be worthy of you&mdash;you could
+never marry me."</p>
+
+<p>The Count drew back a step and held out his right hand, with a strangely
+earnest look in his weary eyes. She laid her fingers in his almost
+unconsciously. Then, as though he were in a holy place, he took off his
+hat, and stood bareheaded before her.</p>
+
+<p>"If I forsake you, Vjera," he said very solemnly, "if I forsake you
+ever, in riches or in poverty, in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> honour or in disrepute, may the God
+of heaven forsake me in the hour of my death."</p>
+
+<p>He swore the great oath deliberately, in a strong, clear voice, and then
+was silent for a moment, his eyes turned upwards, his attitude
+unchanged. Then he raised the poor girl's thin hand to his lips and
+kissed it, three times, reverently, as devout persons kiss the relics of
+departed saints.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-night, Vjera," he said, quietly. "We shall meet to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>Vjera was awed by his solemn earnestness, and strongly moved by his
+action.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-night," she answered, lovingly. "Heaven bless you and keep you
+safe." She looked for a last time into his face, as though trying to
+impress upon her mind the memories of that fateful evening, and then she
+withdrew into the house, shutting the street door behind her.</p>
+
+<p>The Count stood still for several minutes, unconsciously holding his hat
+in his hand. At last he covered his head and walked slowly away in the
+direction of his home. By degrees his mind fell into its old groove and
+he hastened his steps. From time to time, he fancied that some one was
+following him at no great distance, but though he glanced quickly over
+his shoulder he saw no one in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> dimly-lighted street. The door of the
+house in which he lived was open, and he ran up the stairs at a great
+pace, sure that by this time his friends must be waiting for him in his
+room. When he reached it, all was dark and quiet. The echo of his own
+footsteps seemed still to resound in the staircase as he closed his door
+and struck a match. He found his small lamp in a corner, lighted it with
+some difficulty, set it on the table and sat down. There, beside him,
+propped up against two books, was the piece of paper on which he had
+written the few words for his friends, in case they came while he was
+out. He took it up, looked over it absently and began to fold it upon
+itself again and again.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Vjera!" he exclaimed, in a low caressing tone, as he smoothed the
+folded strip between his fingers.</p>
+
+<p>He was thinking, and thinking connectedly, of all that had just taken
+place, and wondering how it was that he had been able to accept such a
+sacrifice from one so little able to sacrifice anything. It seemed as
+though it should have been impossible for him to let the poor little
+shell-maker take upon herself his burden, and free him of it and set him
+right again in his own eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I know that I love her now," he said to himself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And he was right. There are secret humiliations to which no man would
+submit, as such, but from which love, when it is real, can take away the
+sting and the poison. The man of heart, who does not love but is loved
+in spite of himself, fears to accept a sacrifice, lest in so doing he
+should seem to declare his readiness to do as he is done by, from like
+motives. But when love is on both sides there is no such drawing back
+from love's responsibilities. The sacrifice is accepted not only with
+gratitude, but with joy, as a debt of which the repayment by sacrifice
+again constitutes in itself a happiness. And thus, perhaps, it is that
+they love best who love in sorrow and in want, in worldly poverty and in
+distress of soul, for they alone can know what joy it is to receive, and
+what yet infinitely greater joy lies in giving all when all is sorely
+needed.</p>
+
+<p>But as the Count dwelt on the circumstances he saw also what it was that
+Vjera had done, and he wondered how she could have found the strength to
+do it. He did not, indeed, say to himself that for his sake she had
+parted with her only beauty, for he had never considered whether she
+were good-looking or not. The bond between them was of a different
+nature, and would not have been less strong had Vjera been absolutely
+ugly instead of being merely,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> what is called, plain. He would have
+loved her as well, had she been a cripple, or deformed, just as she
+loved him in spite of his madness. But he knew well enough how women,
+even the most wretched, value their hair when it is beautiful, what care
+they bestow upon it and what consolation they derive from the rich,
+silken coil denied to fairer women than themselves. There is something
+in the thought of cutting off the heavy tress and selling it which
+appeals to the pity of most people, and which, to women themselves, is
+full of horror. A man might have felt the same in those days when long
+locks were the distinctive outward sign of nobility in man, and perhaps
+the respect of that obsolete custom has left in the minds of most people
+a sort of unconscious tradition. However that may be, we all feel that
+in one direction, at least, a woman's sacrifice can go no further than
+in giving her head to the shears.</p>
+
+<p>The longer the Count thought of this, the more his gratitude increased,
+and the more fully he realised at what great cost poor Vjera had saved
+him from what he considered the greatest conceivable dishonour, from the
+shame of breaking his word, no matter under what conditions it had been
+given. He could, of course, repay her the money, so soon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> as his friends
+arrived, but by no miracle whatever could he restore to her head the
+only beauty it had ever possessed. He had scarcely understood this at
+first, for he had been confused and shaken by the many emotions which
+had in succession played upon his nervous mind and body during the past
+twenty-four hours. But now he saw it all very clearly. He had taken only
+money, which he would be able to restore; she had given a part of
+herself, irrevocably.</p>
+
+<p>So deeply absorbed was he in his thoughts that the clocks struck many
+successive quarters without rousing him from his reverie, or suggesting
+again to him the fixed idea by which his life was governed on that day
+of the week. But as midnight drew near, the prolonged striking of the
+bells at every quarter at last attracted his attention. He started
+suddenly and rose from his seat, trying to count the strokes, but he had
+not heard the first ones and was astray in his reckoning. It was very
+late, that was certain, and not many minutes could elapse before the
+door would open and his friends would enter. He hastily smoothed his
+hair, looked to the flame of his bright little lamp and made a trip of
+inspection round the room. Everything was in order. He was almost glad
+that they were to come at night, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> the lamplight seemed to lend a
+more cheerful look to the room. The Turkey-red cotton counterpane on the
+bed looked particularly well, the Count thought. During the next fifteen
+minutes he walked about, rubbing his hands softly together. At the first
+stroke of the following quarter he stood still and listened intently.</p>
+
+<p>Four quarters struck, and then the big bell began to toll the hour. It
+must be eleven, he thought, as he counted the strokes.
+Eleven&mdash;twelve&mdash;he started, and turned very white, but listened still,
+for he knew that he should hear another clock striking in a few seconds.
+As the strokes followed each other, his heart beat like a
+fulling-hammer, giving a succession of quick blows, and pausing to
+repeat the rhythmic tattoo more loudly and painfully than before.
+Ten&mdash;eleven&mdash;twelve&mdash;there was no mistake. The day was over. It was
+midnight, and no one had come. The room swam with him.</p>
+
+<p>Then, as in a vision of horror, he saw himself standing there, as he had
+stood many times before, listening for the last stroke, and suddenly
+awaking from the dream to the crushing disappointment of the reality.
+For one brief and terrible moment his whole memory was restored to him
+and he knew that his madness was only madness, and nothing more,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> and
+that it seized him in the same way, week by week, through the months and
+the years, leaving him thus on the stroke of twelve each Wednesday
+night, a broken, miserable, self-deceived man. As in certain dreams, we
+dream that we have dreamed the same things before, so with him an
+endless calendar of Wednesdays was unrolled before his inner sight, all
+alike, all ending in the same terror of conscious madness.</p>
+
+<p>He had dreamed it all, there was no one to come to him in his distress,
+no one would ever enter that lonely room to bring back to him the
+treasures of a glorious past, for there was no one to come. It had all
+been a dream from beginning to end and there was no reality in it.</p>
+
+<p>He staggered to his chair and sat down, pressing his lean hands to his
+aching temples and rocking himself to and fro, his breath hissing
+through his convulsively closed teeth. Still the fearful memory
+remained, and it grew into a prophetic vision of the future, reflecting
+what had been upon the distant scenery of what was yet to be. With that
+one deadly stroke of the great church bell, all was gone&mdash;fortune,
+friends, wealth, dignity. The majestic front of the palace of his hopes
+was but a flimsy, painted tissue. The fire that ran through his
+tortured<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> brain consumed the gaudy, artificial thing in the flash and
+rush of a single flame, and left behind only the charred skeleton
+framework, which had supported the vast canvas. And then, he saw it
+again and again looming suddenly out of the darkness, brightening into
+beauty and the semblance of strength, to be as suddenly destroyed once
+more. With each frantic beat of his heart the awful transformation was
+renewed. For dreams need not time to spin out their intolerable length.
+With each burning throb of his raging blood, every nerve in his body,
+every aching recess of his brain, was pierced and twisted, and pierced
+again with unceasing agony.</p>
+
+<p>Then a new horror was added to the rest. He saw before him the poor
+Polish girl, her only beauty shorn away for his sake, he saw all that he
+had promised in return, and he knew that he had nothing to give her,
+nothing, absolutely, save the crazy love of a wretched madman. He could
+not even repay her the miserable money which had cost her so dear. Out
+of his dreams of fortune there was not so much as a handful of coin left
+to give the girl who had given all she had, who had sold her hair to
+save his honour. With frightful vividness the truth came over him. That
+honour of his, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> had pledged it in the recklessness of his madness.
+She had saved it out of love, and he had not even&mdash;but no&mdash;there was a
+new memory there&mdash;love he had for her, passionate, tender, true, a love
+that had not its place among the terrors of the past. But&mdash;was not this
+a new dream, a new delusion of his shaken brain? And if he loved her,
+was it not yet more terrible to have deceived the loved one, more
+monstrous, more infamous, more utterly damnable? The figure of her rose
+before him, pitiful, thin, weak, with outstretched hands and trusting
+eyes&mdash;and he had taken of her all she had. Neither heart, nor body, nor
+brain could bear more.</p>
+
+<p>"Vjera! God! Forgive me!" With the cry of a breaking heart the poor
+Count fell forward from his seat and lay in a heap, motionless upon the
+floor.</p>
+
+<p>Only his stiffening fingers, crooked and contorted, worked nervously for
+a few minutes, scratching at the rough boards. Then all was quite still
+in the little room.</p>
+
+<p>There was a noise outside, and some one opened the door. The Cossack
+stood upon the threshold, holding his hand up against the lamp, for he
+was dazzled as he entered from the outer darkness of the stairs. He
+looked about, and at first saw nothing, for the Count had fallen in the
+shadow of the table.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then, seeing where he lay, Johann Schmidt came forward and knelt down,
+and with some difficulty turned his friend upon his back.</p>
+
+<p>"Dead&mdash;poor Count!" he exclaimed in a low voice, bending down over the
+ghastly face.</p>
+
+<p>The pale eyes were turned upward and inward, and the forehead was damp.
+Schmidt unbuttoned the threadbare coat from the breast. There was no
+waistcoat under it&mdash;nothing but a patched flannel shirt. A quantity of
+papers were folded neatly in a flat package in the inner pocket. Schmidt
+put down his head and listened for the beatings of the heart.</p>
+
+<p>"So it is over!" he said mournfully, as he straightened himself upon his
+knees. Then he took one of the extended hands in his, and pressed it,
+and looked into the poor man's face, and felt the tears coming into his
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"You were a good man," he said in sorrowful tones, "and a brave man in
+your way, and a true gentleman&mdash;and&mdash;I suppose it was not your fault if
+you were mad. Heaven give you peace and rest!"</p>
+
+<p>He rose to his feet, debating what he should do.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Vjera!" he sighed. "Poor Vjera&mdash;she will go next!"</p>
+
+<p>Once more, he looked down, and his eye caught<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> sight of the papers
+projecting from the inner pocket of the coat, which was still open and
+thrown back upon the floor. It has been noticed more than once that
+Johann Schmidt was a man subject to attacks of quite irresistible
+curiosity. He hesitated a moment, and then came to the conclusion that
+he was as much entitled as any one else to be the Count's executor.</p>
+
+<p>"It cannot harm him now," he said, as he extracted the bundle from its
+place.</p>
+
+<p>One of the letters was quite fresh. The rest were evidently very old,
+being yellow with age and ragged at the edges. He turned over the
+former. It was addressed to Count Skariatine, at his lodging, and it
+bore the postmark of a town in Great-Russia, between Petersburg and
+Moscow. Schmidt took out the sheet, and his face suddenly grew very dark
+and angry. The handwriting was either in reality Akulina's, or it
+resembled it so closely as to have deceived a better expert than the
+Cossack.</p>
+
+<p>The missive purported to be written by the wife of Count Skariatine's
+steward, and it set forth in rather servile and illiterate language that
+the said Count Skariatine and his eldest son were both dead, having been
+seized on the same day with the smallpox,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> of which there had been an
+epidemic in the neighbourhood, but which was supposed to have quite
+disappeared when they fell ill. A week later and within twenty-four
+hours of each other they had breathed their last. The Count Boris
+Michaelovitch was now the heir, and would do well to come home as soon
+as possible to look after his possessions, as the local authorities were
+likely to make a good thing out of it in his absence.</p>
+
+<p>The Cossack swore a terrific oath, and stamped furiously on the floor as
+he rose to his feet. It was evident to him that Akulina had out of spite
+concocted the letter, and had managed to have it posted by some friend
+in Russia. He was not satisfied with one expletive, nor with many. The
+words he used need not be translated for the reader of the English
+language. It is enough to say that they were the strongest in the
+Cossack vocabulary, that they were well selected and applied with force
+and precision.</p>
+
+<p>Johann Schmidt was exceedingly wroth with the tobacconist's wife, for it
+was clear that she had caused the Count's untimely death by her
+abominable practical joke. He went and leaned out of the window,
+churning and gnashing the fantastic expressions of his rage through his
+teeth.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Suddenly there was a noise in the room, a distinct, loud noise, as of
+shuffling with hands and feet. The Cossack's nerves were proof against
+ghostly terrors, but as he turned round he felt that his hair was
+standing erect upon his head.</p>
+
+<p>The Count was on his feet and was looking at him.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="r5556" id="r5556"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>"I thought you were dead!" gasped the Cossack in dismay.</p>
+
+<p>There was no answer. The Count did not appear to hear Schmidt's voice
+nor to see his figure. He acted like a man walking in his sleep, and it
+was by no means certain to the friend who watched him that his eyes were
+always open. As though nothing unusual had happened, the Count calmly
+undressed himself and got into bed. Three minutes later he was sound
+asleep and breathing regularly.</p>
+
+<p>For a long time Johann Schmidt stood transfixed with wonder in his place
+at the open window. At last it dawned upon him that his friend had not
+been really dead, but had fallen into some sort of fit in the course of
+his lonely meditations, from which he had been awakened by the Cossack's
+terrific swearing. Why the latter had seemed to be invisible and
+inaudible to him, was a matter which Schmidt did not attempt to solve.
+It was clear that the Count was alive, and sleeping like other people.
+Schmidt hesitated some time as to what he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> should do. It was possible
+that his friend might wake again, and find himself desperately ill. He
+had been so evidently unlike himself, that Schmidt had feared he would
+become a raving maniac in the night, and had entered the house at his
+heels, seating himself upon the stairs just outside the door to wait for
+events, with the odd fidelity and forethought characteristic of him. The
+Count's cry had warned him that all was not right and he had entered the
+room, as has been seen.</p>
+
+<p>He determined to wait some time longer, to see whether anything would
+happen. Meanwhile, he thrust Akulina's letter into his pocket,
+reflecting that as it was a forgery it would be best that the Count
+should not have it, lest he should be again misled by the contents. He
+sat down and waited.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing happened. The clocks chimed the quarters up to one in the
+morning, a quarter-past, half-past&mdash;Schmidt was growing sleepy. The
+Count breathed regularly and lay in his bed without moving. Then, at
+last, the Cossack rose, looked at his friend once more, blew out the
+lamp, felt his way to the door and left the room. As he walked home
+through the quiet streets he swore that he would take vengeance upon
+Akulina, by producing the letter and reading it in her husband's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>
+presence, and before the assembled establishment, before the Count made
+his appearance. It was indeed not probable that he would come at all,
+considering all that he had suffered, though Schmidt knew that he
+generally came on Thursday morning, evidently weary and exhausted, but
+unconscious of the delusion which had possessed him during the previous
+day. Possibly, he was subject to a similar fit every Wednesday night,
+and had kept the fact a secret. Schmidt had always wondered what
+happened to him at the moment when he suddenly forgot his imaginary
+fortune and returned to his everyday senses.</p>
+
+<p>The morning dawned at last, and it was Thursday. As there was no
+necessity for liberating the Count from arrest to-day, Akulina roused
+her husband with the lark, gave him his coffee promptly and sent him off
+to open the shop and catch the early customer. Before the shutters had
+been up more than a quarter of an hour, and while Fischelowitz was still
+sniffing the fresh morning air, Johann Schmidt appeared. His step was
+brisk, his brow was dark and his boots creaked ominously. With a very
+brief salutation he passed into the back shop, slipped off his coat and
+set to work with the determination of a man who feels that he must do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>
+something active as a momentary relief to his feelings.</p>
+
+<p>Next came Vjera, paler than ever, with great black rings under her tired
+eyes, broken with the fatigues and anxieties of the previous day, but
+determined to double her work, if that were possible, in order to make
+up for the money she had borrowed of Schmidt and, through him, of
+Dumnoff. As she dropped her shawl, Fischelowitz caught sight of the back
+of her head, and broke into a laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Vjera!" he cried. "What have you done? You have made yourself look
+perfectly ridiculous!"</p>
+
+<p>The poor girl turned scarlet, and busied herself at her table without
+answering. Her fingers trembled as she tried to handle her glass tube.
+The Cossack, whose anger had not been diluted by being left to boil all
+night, dropped his swivel knife and went up to Fischelowitz with a look
+in his face so extremely disagreeable that the tobacconist drew back a
+little, not knowing what to expect.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you something," said Schmidt, savagely. "You will have to
+change your manners if you expect any of us to work for you."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" stammered Fischelowitz, in whom nature had omitted
+to implant the gift of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> physical courage, except in such measure as
+saved him from the humiliation of being afraid of his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean what I say," answered the Cossack. "And if there is anything I
+hate, it is to repeat what I have said before hitting a man." His fists
+were clenched already, and one of them looked as though it were on the
+point of making a very emphatic gesture. Fischelowitz retired backwards
+into the front shop, while Vjera looked on from within, now pale again
+and badly frightened.</p>
+
+<p>"Herr Schmidt! Herr Schmidt! Please, please be quiet! It does not
+matter!" she cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Then what does matter?" inquired the Cossack over his shoulders, "If
+Vjera has cut off her hair," he said, turning again to Fischelowitz,
+"she has had a good reason for it. It is none of your business, nor mine
+either."</p>
+
+<p>So saying he was about to go back to his work again.</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my word!" exclaimed the tobacconist. "Upon my word! I do not
+understand what has got into the fellow."</p>
+
+<p>"You do not understand?" cried Schmidt, facing him again. "I mean that
+if you laugh at Vjera I will break most of your bones."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>At that moment Akulina's stout figure appeared, entering from the
+street. The Cossack stood still, glaring at her, his face growing white
+and contracted with anger. He was becoming dangerous, as good-tempered
+men will, when roused, especially when they have been brought up among
+people who, as a tribe, would rather fight than eat, at any time of day,
+from pure love of the thing. Even Akulina, who was not timid, hesitated
+as she stood on the threshold.</p>
+
+<p>"What has happened?" she inquired, looking from Schmidt to her husband.</p>
+
+<p>The latter came to her side, if not for protection, as might be
+maliciously supposed, at least for company.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot understand at all," said Fischelowitz, still edging away.</p>
+
+<p>"You understand well enough, I think, and as for you, Frau Fischelowitz,
+I have something to talk of with you, too. But we will put it off until
+later," he added, as though suddenly changing his mind.</p>
+
+<p>The Count himself had appeared in the doorway behind Akulina. Both she
+and her husband stood aside, looking at him curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-morning," he said, gravely taking off his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> hat and inclining his
+head a little. He acted as though quite unconscious of what had happened
+on the previous day, and they watched him as he quietly went into the
+room beyond, into which the Cossack had retired on seeing him enter.</p>
+
+<p>He hung up his hat in its usual place, nodding to Schmidt, who was
+opposite to him. Then, as he turned, he met Vjera's eyes. It was a
+supreme moment for her, poor child. Would he remember anything of what
+had passed on the previous day? Or had he forgotten all, his debt, her
+saving of him and the sacrifice she had made? He looked at her so long
+and so steadily that she grew frightened. Then all at once he came close
+to her, and took her hand and kissed it as he had done when they had
+last parted, careless of Schmidt's presence.</p>
+
+<p>"I have not forgotten, dear Vjera," he whispered in her ear.</p>
+
+<p>Schmidt passed them quickly and again went out, whether from a sense of
+delicacy, or because he saw an opportunity of renewing the fight
+outside, is not certain. He closed the door of communication behind him.</p>
+
+<p>Vjera looked up into the Count's eyes and the blush that rarely came,
+the blush of true happiness, mounted to her face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I have not forgotten, dearest," he said again. "There is a veil over
+yesterday&mdash;I think I must have been ill&mdash;but I know what you did for me
+and&mdash;and&mdash;" he hesitated as though seeking an expression.</p>
+
+<p>For a few seconds again the poor girl felt the agony of suspense she
+knew so well.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know what right a man so poor as I has to say such a thing,
+Vjera," he continued. "But I love you, dear, and if you will take me, I
+will love you all my life, more and more. Will it be harder to be poor
+together than each for ourselves, alone?"</p>
+
+<p>Vjera let her head fall upon his shoulder, happy at last. What did his
+madness matter now, since the one memory she craved had survived its
+destroying influence? He had forgotten his glorious hopes, his imaginary
+wealth, his expected friends, but he had not forgotten her, nor his love
+for her.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God!" she sighed, and the happy tears fell from her eyes upon the
+breast of his threadbare coat.</p>
+
+<p>"But we must not forget to work, dear," she said, a few moments later.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he answered. "We must not forget to work."</p>
+
+<p>As she sat down to her table he pushed her chair back for her, and put
+into her hands her little glass<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> tube, and then he went and took his own
+place opposite. For a long time they were left alone, but neither of
+them seemed to wonder at it, nor to hear the low, excited tones of many
+voices talking rapidly and often together in the shop outside. Whenever
+their eyes met, they both smiled, while their fingers did the accustomed
+mechanical work.</p>
+
+<p>When Schmidt entered the outer shop for the second time, he found the
+tobacconist and his wife conversing in low tones together, in evident
+fear of being overheard. He came and stood before them, lowering his
+voice to the pitch of theirs, as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"It is no fault of yours that the Count was not found dead in his bed
+this morning," he began, fixing his fiery eyes on Akulina.</p>
+
+<p>"What? What? What is this?" asked Fischelowitz excitedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Only this," said the Cossack, displaying the letter he had brought from
+the Count's rooms. "Nothing more. Your wife has succeeded very well. He
+is quite mad now. I found him last night, helpless, in a sort of fit,
+stiff and stark on the floor of his room. And this was in his pocket.
+Read it, Herr Fischelowitz. Read it, by all means. I suppose your wife
+does not mind your reading the letters she writes."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Fischelowitz took the letter stupidly, turned it over, saw the address,
+and took out the folded sheet. Akulina's face expressed a blank
+amazement almost comical in its vacuity. For once, she was taken off her
+guard. Her husband read the letter over twice and examined the
+handwriting curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"A joke is a joke, Akulina," he said at last. "But you have carried this
+too far. What if the Count had died?"</p>
+
+<p>"I would like to know what I am accused of," said Akulina, "and what all
+this is about."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you know your own handwriting," observed the Cossack, taking
+the letter from the tobacconist's hands and holding it before her eyes.
+"And if that is not enough to drive the poor man to the madhouse I do
+not know what is. Perhaps you have forgotten all about it? Perhaps you
+are mad, too?"</p>
+
+<p>Akulina read the writing in her turn. Then she grew very angry.</p>
+
+<p>"It is an abominable lie!" she exclaimed. "I never had anything to do
+with it. I do not know whence this letter comes, and I do not care. I
+know nothing about it."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose no one can prevent your saying so, at least," retorted the
+Cossack.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It is very queer," observed Fischelowitz, suddenly thrusting his hands
+into his pockets and beginning to whistle softly as he looked through
+the shop window.</p>
+
+<p>"When I tell you that it is not my handwriting, you ought to be
+satisfied&mdash;" Akulina began.</p>
+
+<p>"And yet none of us are," interrupted the Cossack with a laugh.
+"Strange, is it not?"</p>
+
+<p>Dumnoff now came in, and a moment later the insignificant girl, who
+began to giggle foolishly as soon as she saw that something was
+happening which she could not understand.</p>
+
+<p>"None of us are satisfied," continued Johann Schmidt, taking the letter
+from Akulina. "Here, Dumnoff, here Anna Nicolaevna, is this the
+Chosjaika's handwriting or not? Let everybody see and judge."</p>
+
+<p>"It is outrageous!" exclaimed Akulina, trying to get possession of the
+letter again.</p>
+
+<p>"You see how she tries to get it," laughed the Cossack, savagely. "She
+would be glad to tear it to pieces&mdash;of course she would."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you would all go about your business," said Fischelowitz with an
+approach to asperity.</p>
+
+<p>Akulina was furious, but she did not know what to do. Everybody began
+talking together.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Of course it is the Barina's handwriting," said Dumnoff confidently. He
+supposed it was always safe to follow Schmidt's lead, when he followed
+any one.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it is," chimed in the insignificant Anna.</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;you minx&mdash;you flatter-cat, you little serpent!" cried Akulina,
+speaking three languages at once in her excitement. "Go&mdash;get along&mdash;go
+to your work&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, stay!" exclaimed the Cossack authoritatively. "Do you know what
+this is?" he asked of all present again. "Our good mistress, here, has
+for some reason or other been trying to make the Count worse by having
+sham letters posted to him from home&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It is a lie! A base, abominable lie! Turn the man out, Christian
+Gregorovitch! Turn him out, or send for the police."</p>
+
+<p>"Turn him out yourself," answered the tobacconist phlegmatically.</p>
+
+<p>"Posted to him from home," continued the Cossack, "and telling him that
+his father and brother are dead and that he has come into property and
+the like. What do you think of that?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is a shame," growled Dumnoff, beginning to understand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The girl laughed foolishly.</p>
+
+<p>"I swear to you," began Akulina, crimson with anger. "I swear to you by
+all&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Customers, customers!" exclaimed Fischelowitz in a stage whisper.
+"Quiet, I tell you!" He made a rush for the other side of the counter,
+and briskly assumed his professional smile. The others fell back into
+the corners.</p>
+
+<p>Two gentlemen in black entered the shop. The one was a stout,
+angry-looking person of middle age, very dark, and very full about the
+lower part of the face, which was not concealed by the closely cut black
+beard. His companion was a diminutive little man, very thin and very
+spruce, not less than fifty years old. His face was entirely shaved and
+was deeply marked with lines and furrows. A pair of piercing grey eyes
+looked through big gold-rimmed spectacles. As he took off his hat, a few
+thin, sandy-coloured locks fluttered a little and then settled
+themselves upon the smooth surface of his cranium, like autumn leaves
+falling upon a marble statue in a garden.</p>
+
+<p>"Herr Fischelowitz?" inquired the larger of the two customers, touching
+his hat but not removing it.</p>
+
+<p>"At your service," answered the tobacconist.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> "Cigarettes?" he inquired.
+"Strong? Light? Kir, Samson, Dubec?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am the new Russian Consul," said the stranger. "This gentleman is
+just arrived from Petersburg and has business with you."</p>
+
+<p>"My name is Konstantin Grabofsky, and I am a lawyer," observed the
+little man very sharply.</p>
+
+<p>Fischelowitz bowed till his nose almost came into collision with the
+counter. The others in the shop held their peace and opened their eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"And I am told that Count Boris Michaelovitch Skariatine is here,"
+continued the lawyer.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;the mad Count!" exclaimed Akulina with an angry laugh, and coming
+forward. "Yes, we can tell you all about him."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry," said Grabofsky, "to hear you call him mad, since my
+business is with him, Barina, and not with you." His tone was, if
+possible, more incisive than before.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, we know that he is not a Count at all," said Akulina,
+somewhat annoyed by his sharpness.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you? Then you are singularly mistaken. I shall be obliged if you
+will inform Count Skariatine that Konstantin Grabofsky desires the
+honour of an interview with him."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Go and call him, Akulina," said Fischelowitz, "since the gentleman
+wishes to see him."</p>
+
+<p>"Go yourself," retorted his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"Go together, and be quick about it!" said the Consul, who was tired of
+waiting.</p>
+
+<p>"And please to say that I wait his convenience," added the lawyer.</p>
+
+<p>Dumnoff moved to Schmidt's side and whispered into his ear.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think they have come about the Gigerl?" he inquired anxiously.
+"Do you think they will arrest us again?"</p>
+
+<p>"Durak!" laughed the Cossack. "How can two Russian gentlemen arrest you
+in Munich? This is something connected with the Count's friends. It is
+my belief that they have come at last. See&mdash;here he is."</p>
+
+<p>The Count now entered from the back shop, calm and collected, as though
+not expecting anything extraordinary. The Russian Consul took off his
+hat and bowed with great politeness and the Count returned the
+salutation with equal civility. Fischelowitz and Akulina stood in the
+background anxiously watching events.</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer also bowed and then, turning his face to the light, held his
+hand out.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You have not forgotten me, Count Skariatine?" he said, in a tone of
+inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>The Count stared hard at him as he took the proffered hand. Gradually,
+his face underwent a change. His forehead contracted, his eyes closed a
+little, his eyebrows rose, and an expression of quiet disdain settled
+about the lines of his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"I know you very well," he answered. "You are Doctor Konstantin
+Grabofsky, my father's lawyer. Do you come from him to renew the offer
+you made when we parted?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have no offer to make," said the little man. "Will you do me the
+honour to indicate some place where we may be alone together for a
+moment?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have no objection to that," replied the Count. "We can go into the
+street."</p>
+
+<p>They passed out together, leaving the establishment of Christian
+Fischelowitz in a condition of great astonishment. The tobacconist
+hastily produced his best cigarettes and entreated the Consul to try
+one, making signs to the other occupants of the shop to return to their
+occupations in the inner room.</p>
+
+<p>"How long have you known Count Skariatine?" inquired the Consul,
+carelessly, when he was alone with Fischelowitz.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Six or seven years," answered the latter.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you know his story? Your wife was good enough to inform us of
+that fact, though Doctor Grabofsky has reason to doubt the value of her
+information."</p>
+
+<p>"We only know that he calls himself a Count." Fischelowitz held the
+authorities of his native country in holy awe, and was almost frightened
+out of his senses at being thus questioned by the Consul.</p>
+
+<p>"He is quite at liberty to do so," answered the latter with a laugh.
+"The story is simple enough," he continued, "and there is no reason why
+you should not know it. The late Count Skariatine had two sons, of whom
+the present Count was the younger. Ten years ago, when barely twenty, he
+quarrelled with his father and elder brother, and they parted in anger.
+I must say that he seems to have acted hastily, though the old
+gentleman's views of life were eccentric, to say the least of it. For
+some reason or other, the elder brother never married. I have heard it
+said that he was crippled in childhood. Be that as it may, he was
+vindictive and spiteful by nature, and prevented the quarrel from being
+forgotten. The younger brother left the house with the clothes on his
+back, and steadily refused to accept the small allowance offered him,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>
+and which was his by right. And now the father and the eldest son are
+dead&mdash;they died suddenly of the smallpox&mdash;and Doctor Grabofsky has come
+to inform the Count that he is the heir. There you have the story in a
+nutshell."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it is all true, after all!" cried Fischelowitz. "We all thought&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Thinking, when one knows nothing, is a dangerous and useless pastime,"
+observed the Consul. "I will take a box of these cigarettes with me.
+They are good."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you most obediently, Milostivy Gosudar!" exclaimed Fischelowitz,
+bowing low. "I trust that the Gospodin Consul will honour me with his
+patronage. I have a great variety of tobaccos, Kir, Basma, Samson, Dubec
+Imperial, Swary&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>While Fischelowitz was recommending the productions of his Celebrated
+Manufactory to the Consul, Grabofsky and the Count were walking together
+up and down the smooth pavement outside.</p>
+
+<p>"A great change has taken place in your family," Grabofsky was saying.
+"Had anything less extraordinary occurred, I should have written to you
+instead of coming in person. Your brother is dead, Count Skariatine."</p>
+
+<p>"Dead!" exclaimed the Count, who had no recollection<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> of the letter
+abstracted from his pocket by the Cossack. It had reached him after the
+weekly attack had begun, and the memory of it was gone with that of so
+many other occurrences.</p>
+
+<p>"Dead," repeated the lawyer sharply, as though he would have made a nail
+of the word to drive it into the coffin.</p>
+
+<p>"And how many children has he left?" inquired the Count.</p>
+
+<p>"He died unmarried."</p>
+
+<p>"So that I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You are the lawful heir."</p>
+
+<p>"Unless my father marries again." The colour rose in the Count's lean
+cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"That is impossible."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because he is dead, too."</p>
+
+<p>"Then&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You are Count Skariatine, and I have the honour to offer you my
+services at this important juncture."</p>
+
+<p>The Count breathed hard. The shock, overtaking him when he was in his
+normal condition, was tremendous. The colour came and went rapidly in
+his features, and he caught his breath, leaning heavily upon the little
+lawyer, who watched his face with some anxiety. Akulina's remark about
+the Count's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> madness had made him more careful than he would otherwise
+have been in his manner of breaking the news.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not well," said the Count in a low voice. "To-day is Wednesday&mdash;I
+am never well on Wednesdays."</p>
+
+<p>"To-day is Thursday," answered Grabofsky.</p>
+
+<p>"Thursday? Thursday&mdash;" the Count reeled, and would have fallen, but for
+the support of the nervous little man's wiry arm.</p>
+
+<p>Then, in the space of a second, took place that strange phenomenon of
+the intelligence which is as yet so imperfectly understood. It is called
+the "Transfer" in the jargon of the half-developed science which deals
+with suggestion and the like. Its effects are strange, sudden and
+complete, often observed, never understood, but chronicled in hundreds
+of cases and analysed in every seat of physiological learning in Europe.
+In the twinkling of an eye, a part or the whole of the intelligence, or
+of the sensations, is reversed in action, and this with a logical
+precision of which no description can give any idea. It is universally
+considered as the first step in the direction of recovery.</p>
+
+<p>The action of the Count's mind was "transferred," therefore, since the
+word is consecrated by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> usage. Fortunately for him, the transfer
+coincided with a material change in his fortunes. Had this not been the
+case it would have had the effect of making him mad through the whole
+week, and sane only from Tuesday evening until the midnight of
+Wednesday. As it was, the result was of a contrary nature. Being now in
+reality restored to wealth and dignity, he was able to understand and
+appreciate the reality during six days, becoming again, in imagination,
+a cigarette-maker upon the seventh, a harmless delusion which already
+shows signs of disappearing, and from which the principal authorities
+confidently assert that he will soon be quite free.</p>
+
+<p>He passed but one moment in a state of semi-consciousness. Then he
+raised his head, and stood erect, and to the great surprise of
+Grabofsky, showed no further surprise at the news he had just received.</p>
+
+<p>"The fact is," he said, quietly, "I was expecting you yesterday. I had
+received a letter from the wife of the steward informing me of the death
+of my father and brother. I think your coming to-day must have disturbed
+me, as I have some difficulty in recalling the circumstances which
+attended our meeting here."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"A passing indisposition," suggested Grabofsky. "Nothing more. The
+weather is warm, sultry in fact."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it must have been that. And now, we had better communicate the
+state of things to Herr Fischelowitz, to whom I consider myself much
+indebted."</p>
+
+<p>"Our Consul came with me," said the lawyer. "He is in the shop. Perhaps
+you did not notice him."</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;I do not think I did. I am afraid he thought me very careless."</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all, not at all." Grabofsky began to think that there had been
+some truth in Akulina's remarks after all, but he kept his opinion to
+himself, then and afterwards, a course which was justified by subsequent
+events. He and the Count turned towards the shop, and, entering, found
+Fischelowitz and the Consul conversing together.</p>
+
+<p>The Count bowed to the latter with much ceremony.</p>
+
+<p>"I fear," he said, "that you must have thought me careless just now. The
+suddenness of the news I have received has affected me. Pray accept my
+best thanks for your kindness in accompanying Doctor Grabofsky this
+morning."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Do not mention it, Count. I am only too glad to be of service."</p>
+
+<p>"You are very kind. And now, Herr Fischelowitz," he continued, turning
+to the tobacconist, "it is my pleasant duty to thank you also. I looked
+for these gentlemen yesterday. They have arrived to-day. The change
+which I expected would take place has come, and I am about to return to
+my home. The memories of poverty and exile can never be pleasant, but I
+do not think that I have any just reason to complain. Will it please
+you, Herr Fischelowitz, and you, gentlemen, to go into the next room
+with me? I wish to take my leave of those who have so long been my
+companions."</p>
+
+<p>Fischelowitz opened the door of communication and held it back
+respectfully for the Count to pass. His ideas were exceedingly confused,
+but his instinct told him to make all atonement in his power for his
+wife's outbursts of temper. The Count entered first, and the other three
+followed him, Grabofsky, the Consul, and Fischelowitz. The little back
+shop was very full. To judge from the last accents of Akulina's voice
+she had been repaying Johann Schmidt with compound interest, now that
+the right was on her side, for the manner in which he had attacked her.
+As the Count entered, however,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> all held their peace, and he began to
+speak in the midst of total silence. He stood by the little black table
+upon which his lean, stained fingers had manufactured so many hundreds
+of thousands of cigarettes.</p>
+
+<p>"Herr Fischelowitz," he began, "I am here to say good-bye to you, to
+your good wife, and to my companions. During a number of years you have
+afforded me the opportunity of earning an honest living, and I have to
+thank you very heartily for the forbearance you have shown me. It is not
+your fault if your consideration for me has sometimes taken a passive
+rather than an active form. It was not your business to fight my
+battles. Give me your hand, Herr Fischelowitz. We part, as we have
+lived, good friends. I wish you all possible success."</p>
+
+<p>The tobacconist bowed low as he respectfully shook hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Too much honour," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Frau Fischelowitz," continued the Count, "you have acted according to
+your lights and your beliefs. I bear you no ill-will. I only hope that
+if any other poor gentleman should ever take my place you will not make
+his position harder than it would naturally be, and I trust that all may
+be well with you."</p>
+
+<p>"I never meant it, Herr Graf," said Akulina, awkwardly, as she took his
+proffered hand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He turned to the Cossack.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, Johann Schmidt, good-bye. I shall see you again, before long.
+We have always helped each other, my friend. I have much to thank you
+for."</p>
+
+<p>"You have helped me, you mean," said the Cossack, in a rather shaky
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no&mdash;each other, and we will continue to do so, I hope, in a
+different way. Good-bye, Dumnoff. You have a better heart than people
+think."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you not going to take me to Russia, after all?" asked the mujik,
+almost humbly.</p>
+
+<p>"Did I say I would? Then you shall go. But not as coachman, Dumnoff. Not
+as coachman, I think. Good-bye, Anna Nicolaevna," he said, turning to
+the insignificant girl, who was at last too much awed to giggle.</p>
+
+<p>Then he came to Vjera's place. The girl was leaning forward, hiding her
+face in her hands, and resting her small, pointed elbows on the table.</p>
+
+<p>"Vjera, dear," he said, bending down to her, "will you come with me,
+now?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked up, suddenly, and her face was very white and drawn, and wet
+with tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, no!" she said in a low voice. "How can I ever be worthy of you,
+since it is really true?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But the Count put his arm round the poor little shell-maker's waist, and
+made her stand beside him in the midst of them all.</p>
+
+<p>"Gentlemen," he said, in his calmly dignified manner, "let me present to
+you the Countess Skariatine. She will bear that name to-morrow. I owe
+you a confession before leaving you, in her honour and to my
+humiliation. I had contracted a debt of honour, and I had nothing
+wherewith to pay it. There was but an hour left&mdash;an hour, and then my
+life and my honour would have been gone together."</p>
+
+<p>Vjera looked up into his face with a pitiful entreaty, but he would go
+on.</p>
+
+<p>"She saved me, gentlemen," he continued. "She cut off her beautiful hair
+from her head, and sold it for me. But that is not the reason why she is
+to be my wife. There is a better reason than that. I love her,
+gentlemen, with all my heart and soul, and she has told me that she
+loves me."</p>
+
+<p>He felt her weight upon him, and, looking down, he saw that she had
+fainted in his arms, with a look of joy upon her poor wan face which
+none there had ever seen in the face of man or woman.</p>
+
+<p>And so love conquered.</p>
+
+
+<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap"><br/>The End.<br/><br/></span></p>
+
+<hr class='full' />
+
+<p style='text-align:center'>
+<span style="font-size:80%">MR. CRAWFORD'S LAST NOVEL.</span><br/>
+<span style="font-size:120%">KATHARINE LAUDERDALE.</span><br/>
+<span style="font-size:80%">TWO VOLUMES. CLOTH. $2.00.</span><br/>
+<span style="font-size:80%">The first of a series of novels dealing with New York life.</span></p>
+
+<hr class='minor' />
+
+<p style='text-align:center'>PRESS COMMENTS.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"Mr. Crawford at his best is a great novelist, and in <i>Katharine
+Lauderdale</i> we have him at his best."&mdash;<i>Boston Daily Advertiser.</i></p>
+
+<p>"A most admirable novel, excellent in style, flashing with humor,
+and full of the ripest and wisest reflections upon men and
+women."&mdash;<i>The Westminster Gazette.</i></p>
+
+<p>"It is the first time, we think, in American fiction that any such
+breadth of view has shown itself in the study of our social
+framework."&mdash;<i>Life.</i></p>
+
+<p>"Admirable in its simple pathos, its enforced humor, and, above
+all, in its truths to human nature.... There is not a tedious page
+or paragraph in it."&mdash;<i>Punch.</i></p>
+
+<p>"It need scarcely be said that the story is skilfully and
+picturesquely written, portraying sharply individual characters in
+well-defined surroundings."&mdash;<i>New York Commercial Advertiser.</i></p>
+
+<p>"<i>Katharine Lauderdale</i> is a tale of New York, and is up to the
+highest level of his work. In some respects it will probably be
+regarded as his best. None of his works, with the exception of <i>Mr.
+Isaacs</i>, show so clearly his skill as a literary artist."&mdash;<i>San
+Francisco Evening Bulletin.</i></p>
+
+<p>"The book shows the inventive power, the ingenuity of plot, the
+subtle analysis of character, the skilfulness in presenting
+shifting scenes, the patient working-out of details, the aptitude
+of deduction, and vividness of description which characterize the
+Saracinesca romances."&mdash;<i>New York Home Journal.</i></p>
+
+<p>"Nowhere has the author shown more admirable understanding and
+command of the novel-writer's art.... Whoever wants an original and
+fascinating book can be commended to this one."&mdash;<i>Philadelphia
+Evening Telegraph.</i></p></div>
+
+<hr class='minor' />
+
+<p style='text-align:center'>
+<i>IN PRESS.</i><br />
+A Sequel to "KATHARINE LAUDERDALE,"<br />
+THE RALSTONS.</p>
+
+<hr class='minor' />
+<p style='text-align:center'>MACMILLAN &amp; CO.,<br />
+66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK.
+</p>
+
+<hr class='full' />
+<p style='text-align:center'>UNIFORM EDITION OF<br />
+F. MARION CRAWFORD'S NOVELS.<br />
+12mo, Cloth. Price, ONE DOLLAR EACH.<br />
+</p>
+
+<hr class='minor' />
+
+<table>
+  <tr>
+    <td align='left'>
+MARION DARCHE.<br />
+<br />
+A STORY WITHOUT COMMENT.<br />
+<br />
+PIETRO GHISLERI.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">CHILDREN OF THE KING.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">DON ORSINO. A Sequel to "Saracinesca" and "Sant' Ilario."</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">THE THREE FATES.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">THE WITCH OF PRAGUE.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">KHALED.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">A CIGARETTE-MAKER'S ROMANCE.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;">SANT' ILARIO. A Sequel to "Saracinesca."</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 8em;">GREIFENSTEIN.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 9em;">WITH THE IMMORTALS.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 10em;">TO LEEWARD.</span><br />
+A ROMAN SINGER.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">AN AMERICAN POLITICIAN.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">PAUL PATOFF.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">SARACINESCA.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">A TALE OF A LONELY PARISH.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">ZOROASTER.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;">DR. CLAUDIUS.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 8em;">MR. ISAACS.</span>
+</td>
+<td valign='top'>
+<div class='figright' style='width: 120px;'>
+<img src='images/illus-295.png' alt='' title='' />
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr class='minor' />
+<p style='text-align:center'>MACMILLAN &amp; CO., PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK.</p>
+<hr class='full' />
+<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes</h3>
+<p>1. Punctuation has been normalized to contemporary standards.</p>
+<p>2. Typographic errors corrected in original:<br/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;p. 30 hear to heard ("heard the chink")<br/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;p. 129 Schimdt to Schmidt ("cried Schmidt in a tone of decision")<br/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;p. 243 Fischelowizt to Fischelowitz ("Herr Fischelowitz")</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's A Cigarette-Maker's Romance, by F. Marion Crawford
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+</body>
+</html>
+
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+Project Gutenberg's A Cigarette-Maker's Romance, by F. Marion Crawford
+
+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: A Cigarette-Maker's Romance
+
+Author: F. Marion Crawford
+
+Release Date: June 22, 2006 [EBook #18651]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CIGARETTE-MAKER'S ROMANCE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+A CIGARETTE-MAKER'S ROMANCE
+
+BY
+F. MARION CRAWFORD
+AUTHOR OF "MR. ISAACS," "DR. CLAUDIUS," "A ROMAN SINGER" ETC.
+
+New York
+MACMILLAN AND CO.
+AND LONDON
+1894
+
+All rights reserved
+
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+Copyright, 1890,
+By F. MARION CRAWFORD
+
+Set up and electrotyped May, 1893. Reprinted July, 1894.
+
+Norwood Press:
+J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith.
+Boston, Mass., U.S.A.
+
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAPTER I.                                      1
+CHAPTER II.                                    25
+CHAPTER III.                                   48
+CHAPTER IV.                                    72
+CHAPTER V.                                     96
+CHAPTER VI.                                   121
+CHAPTER VII.                                  145
+CHAPTER VIII.                                 168
+CHAPTER IX.                                   191
+CHAPTER X.                                    214
+CHAPTER XI.                                   240
+CHAPTER XII.                                  264
+
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+
+
+
+A CIGARETTE-MAKER'S ROMANCE.
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+The inner room of a tobacconist's shop is not perhaps the spot which a
+writer of fiction would naturally choose as the theatre of his play, nor
+does the inventor of pleasant romances, of stirring incident, or moving
+love-tales feel himself instinctively inclined to turn to Munich as to the
+city of his dreams. On the other hand, it is by no means certain that, if
+the choice of a stage for our performance were offered to the most
+contented among us, we should be satisfied to speak our parts and go
+through our actor's business upon the boards of this world. Some would
+prefer to take their properties, their player's crowns and robes, their
+aspiring expressions and their finely expressed aspirations before the
+audience of a larger planet; others, perhaps the majority, would choose,
+with more humility as well as with more common sense, the shadowy scenery,
+the softer footlights and the less exigent public of a modest asteroid,
+beyond the reach of our earthly haste, of our noisy and unclean high-roads
+to honour, of our furious chariot races round the goals of fame, and,
+especially, beyond the reach of competition. But we have no choice. We are
+in the world and, before we know where we are, we are on one of the paths
+which we must traverse in our few score years between birth and death.
+Moreover, each man's path leads up to the theatre on the one side and down
+from it on the other. The inexorable manager, Fate, requires that each
+should go through with his comedy or his drama, if he be judged worthy of
+a leading part, with his scene or his act in another man's piece, if he be
+fit only to play the walking gentleman, the dumb footman, or the
+mechanically trained supernumerary who does duty by turns as soldier,
+sailor, courtier, husbandman, conspirator or red-capped patriot. A few
+play well, many play badly, all must appear and the majority are feebly
+applauded and loudly hissed. He counts himself great who is received with
+such an uproar of clapping and shout of approval as may drown the voice of
+the discontented; he is called fortunate who, having missed his cue and
+broken down in his words, makes his exit in the triumphant train of the
+greater actor upon whom all eyes are turned; he is deemed happy who,
+having offended no man, is allowed to depart in peace upon his downward
+road. Yet none of these players need pride themselves much upon their
+success nor take to heart their failure. Long before most of them have
+slipped into the grave which waits at the foot of the hill, and have been
+wrapped comfortably in the pleasant earth, their names are forgotten by
+those who screamed with pleasure or hooted in disgust at their
+performance, their faces are no longer remembered, their great drama is
+become an old-fashioned mummery of the past. Why should they care? Their
+work is done, they have been rewarded or punished, paid with praise and
+gold or mulcted in the sum of their reputation and estate. Famous or
+infamous, in honour or in disrepute, in riches or in poverty, they have
+reached the end of their time, they are worn out, the world will have no
+more of them, they are worthless in the price-scale of men, they must be
+buried out of sight and they will be forgotten out of mind. The beginning
+is the same for all, and the end also, and as for the future, who shall
+tell us upon what basis of higher intelligence our brief passage across
+the stage is to be judged? Why then should the present trouble our vanity
+so greatly? And if our play is of so little importance, why should we care
+whether the scenery is romantic instead of commonplace, or why should we
+make furious efforts to shift a Gothic castle, a drawbridge, a moat and a
+waterfall into the slides occupied by the four walls of a Munich
+tobacconist's shop?
+
+There is not even anything especial in the appearance of the place to
+recommend it to the ready pen of the word-painter. It is an establishment
+of very modest pretensions situated in one of the side streets leading to
+a great thoroughfare. As we are in Munich, however, the side street is
+broad and clean, the pavement is well swept and the adjoining houses have
+an air of solid respectability and wealth. At the point where the street
+widens to an irregular shape on the downward slope there is a neat little
+iron kiosque completely covered with brilliant advertisements, printed in
+black Gothic letters upon red and yellow paper. The point of vivid colour
+is not disagreeable, for it relieves the neutral tints of brick and brown
+stone, and arrests the eye, long wearied with the respectable parade of
+buildings. The tobacconist's shop is, indeed, the most shabby, or, to
+speak more correctly, the least smartly new among its fellow-shops,
+wherein dwell, in consecutive order, a barber, a watchmaker, a
+pastry-cook, a shoemaker and a colour-man. In spite of its unattractive
+exterior, however, the establishment of "Christian Fischelowitz, from
+South Russia," enjoys a very considerable reputation. Within the high,
+narrow shop there is good store of rare tobaccos, from the mild Kir to the
+Imperial Samson, the aromatic Dubec and the pungent Swary. The dusty
+window beside the narrow door exhibits, it is true, only a couple of tall,
+dried tobacco plants set in flower-pots, a carelessly arranged collection
+of cedar and pasteboard boxes for cigars and cigarettes, and a
+fantastically constructed Swiss cottage, built entirely of cigarettes and
+fine cut yellow leaf, with little pieces of glass set in for windows. This
+effort of architecture is in a decidedly ruinous condition, the little
+stuffed paper cylinders are ragged and torn, some of them show signs of
+detaching themselves from the cardboard frame upon which they are pasted,
+and the dust of years has accumulated upon the bit of painted board which
+serves as a foundation for the chalet. In one corner of the window an
+object more gaudy but not more useful attracts the eye. It is the popular
+doll figure commonly known in Germany as the "Wiener Gigerl" or "Vienna
+fop." It is doubtful whether any person could appear in the public places
+of Vienna in such a costume without being stoned or otherwise painfully
+put to a shameful death. The doll is arrayed in black shorts and silk
+stockings, a wide white waistcoat, a scarlet evening coat, an enormous
+collar and a white tall hat with a broad brim. He stands upon one foot,
+raising the other as though in the act of beginning a minuet; he holds in
+one hand a stick and in the other a cigarette, a relatively monstrous
+eye-glass magnifies one of his painted eyes and upon his face is such an
+expression of combined insolence, vulgarity, dishonesty and conceit as
+would insure his being shot at sight in any Western American village
+making the least pretence to self-respect. On high days and holidays
+Christian Fischelowitz inserts a key into the square black pedestal
+whereon the doll has its being, and the thing lives and moves, turns about
+and cocks its impertinent head at the passers-by, while a feeble tune of
+uncertain rhythm is heard grating itself out upon the teeth of the metal
+comb in the concealed mechanism. Fischelowitz delights in this
+monstrosity, and is never weary of watching its detestable antics. It is
+doubtful whether in the simplicity of his good-natured heart he does not
+really believe that the Wiener Gigerl may attract a stray customer to his
+counter and, in the long-run, pay for itself. For it cost him money, and
+in itself, as a thing of beauty, it hardly covers the bad debt contracted
+with him by a poor fellow-countryman to whom he kindly lent fifty marks
+last year. He accepted the doll without a murmur, however, in full
+discharge of the obligation, and with an odd philosophy peculiar to
+himself, he does his best to get what amusement he can out of the little
+red-coated figure without complaining and without bitterness.
+
+Christian's wife, his larger if not his better half, is less complacent.
+In the publicity of the shop her small black eyes cast glances full of
+hate upon the innocent Gigerl, her full flat face reddens with anger when
+she remembers the money, and her fat hands would dash the insolent little
+figure into the street, if her mercantile understanding did not suggest
+the possibility of ultimately selling it for something. In view of such a
+fortunate contingency, and whenever she is alone, she carefully dusts the
+thing and puts it away in the cupboard in the corner, well knowing that
+Fischelowitz will return in an hour, will take it out, set it in its
+place, wind it up and watch its performance with his everlasting,
+good-humoured, satisfied smile. In public she ventures only to abuse the
+doll. In the silent watches of the night she directs her sharp speeches at
+Christian himself. Not that she is altogether miserly, nor by any means an
+ill-disposed person. Had she been of such a disposition her husband would
+not have married her, for he is a very good man of business and a keen
+judge of other wares besides tobacco. She is a good mother and a good
+housewife, energetic, thrifty, and of fairly even temper; but that
+particular piece of generosity which resulted in the acquisition of a
+red-coated puppet in exchange for fifty marks fills her heart with anger
+and her plump brown fingers with an itching desire to scratch and tear
+something or somebody as a means of satisfying her vengeance. For the poor
+fellow-countryman was one of the Count's friends, and Akulina Fischelowitz
+abhors the Count and loathes him, and the Wiener Gigerl was the beginning
+of the end.
+
+While Christian is watching his doll, and Akulina is seated behind the
+counter, her hands folded upon her lap, and her eyes darting unquiet
+glances at her husband, the Count is busily occupied in making cigarettes
+in the dingy back shop among a group of persons, both young and old, all
+similarly occupied. It is not to be expected that the workroom should be
+cleaner or more tastefully decorated than the counting-house, and in such
+a business as the manufacture of cigarettes by hand litter of all sorts
+accumulates rapidly. The "Famous Cigarette Manufactory of Christian
+Fischelowitz from South Russia" is about as dingy, as unhealthy, as
+untidy, as dusty a place as can be found within the limits of tidy,
+well-to-do Munich. The room is lighted by a window and a half-glazed door,
+both opening upon a dark court. The walls, originally whitewashed, are of
+a deep rich brown, attributable partly to the constant fumes and
+exhalations of tobacco, partly to the fine brown dust of the dried refuse
+cuttings, and partly to the admirable smoke-giving qualities of the
+rickety iron stove which stands in one corner, and in which a fire is
+daily attempted during more than half the year. There are many shelves
+upon the walls too, and the white wood of these has also received into
+itself the warm, deep colour. Upon two of these shelves there are
+accumulations of useless articles, a cracked glass vase, once the pride of
+the show window, when it was filled to overflowing with fine cut leaf, a
+broken-down samovar which has seen tea-service in many cities, from Kiew
+to Moscow, from Moscow to Vilna, from Vilna to Berlin, from Berlin to
+Munich; there are fragments of Russian lacquered wooden bowls, wrecked
+cigar-boxes, piles of dingy handbills left over from the last half-yearly
+advertisement, a crazy Turkish narghile, the broken stem of a chibouque,
+an old hat and an odd boot, besides irregularly shaped parcels, wrapped in
+crumpled brown paper and half buried in dust. Upon the other shelves are
+arranged more neatly rows of tin boxes with locks, and reams of still
+uncut cigarette paper, some white, some straw-coloured.
+
+Round about the room are the seats of the workers. One man alone is
+standing at his task, a man with a dark, Cossack face, high cheek-bones,
+honest, gleaming black eyes, straggling hair and ragged beard. In his
+shirt-sleeves, his arms bare to the elbow, he handles the heavy swivel
+knife, pressing the package of carefully arranged leaves forward and under
+the blade by almost imperceptible degrees. It is one of the most delicate
+operations in the art, and the man has an especial gift for the work. So
+sensitive is his strong right hand that as the knife cuts through the
+thick pile he can detect the presence of a scrap of thin paper amongst the
+tobacco, and not a bit of hardened stem or a twisted leaf escapes him. It
+is very hard work, even for a strong man, and the moisture stands in great
+drops on his dark forehead as he carefully presses the sharp instrument
+through the resisting substance, quickly lifts it up again and pushes on
+the package for the next cut.
+
+At a small black table near by sits a Polish girl, poorly dressed, her
+heavy red-brown hair braided in one long neat tress, her face deadly
+white, her blue eyes lustreless and sunken, her thin fingers actively
+rolling bits of paper round a glass tube, drawing them off as the edges
+are gummed together, and laying them in a prettily arranged pile before
+her. She is Vjera, the shell-maker, invariably spoken of as "poor Vjera."
+Vjera, being interpreted from the Russian, means "Faith." There is an odd
+and pathetic irony in the name borne by the sickly girl. Faith--faith in
+what? In shell-making? In Christian Fischelowitz? In Johann Schmidt, the
+Cossack tobacco-cutter, whose real name is lost in the gloom of many dim
+wanderings? In life? In death? Who knows? In God, at least, poor
+child--and in her wretched existence there is little else left for her to
+believe in. If you ask her whether she believes in the Count, she will
+turn away rather hastily, but in that case the wish to believe is there.
+
+Beside Vjera sits another girl, less pale perhaps, but more insignificant
+in feature, and similarly occupied, with this slight difference that the
+little cylinders she makes are straw-coloured when Vjera is making white
+ones, and white when her companion is using straw-coloured paper. On the
+opposite side of the room, also before small black tables, sit two men, to
+wit, Victor Ivanowitch Dumnoff and the Count. It is their business to
+shape the tobacco and to insert it into the shells, a process performed by
+rolling the cut leaf into a cylinder in a tongue-shaped piece of
+parchment, which, when ready, has the form of a pencil, and is slipped
+into the shell. The parchment is then withdrawn, and the tobacco remains
+behind in its place; the little bunch of threads which protrudes at each
+end is cut off with sharp scissors and the cigarette is finished.
+
+The Count, on the afternoon of the day on which this story opens, was
+sitting before his little black table in his usual attitude, his head
+stooping slightly forward, his elbows supported on each side of him, his
+long fingers moving quickly and skilfully, his greyish blue eyes fixed
+intently on his work. At five o'clock in the afternoon on Tuesday, the
+sixth of May, in the present year of grace one thousand eight hundred and
+ninety, the Count was rapidly approaching the two-thousandth cigarette of
+that day's work. Two thousand in a day was his limit; and though he
+boasted that he could make three thousand between dawn and midnight, if
+absolutely necessary, yet he confessed that among the last five hundred a
+few might be found in which the leaves would be too tightly rolled or too
+loosely packed. Up to his limit, however, he was to be relied upon, and
+not one of his hundred score of cigarettes would be found to differ in
+weight from another by a single grain.
+
+It is perhaps time to describe the outward appearance of the busy worker,
+out of whose life the events of some six-and-thirty hours furnish the
+subject of this little tale. The Count is thirty years old, but might be
+thought older, for there are grey streaks in his smooth black hair, and
+there is a grey tone in the complexion of his tired face. In figure he is
+thin, broad shouldered, sinewy, well made and graceful. He moves easily
+and with a certain elegance. His arms and legs are long in proportion to
+his body. His head is well shaped, bony, full of energy--his nose is
+finely modelled and sharply aquiline; a short, dark moustache does not
+quite hide the firm, well-chiselled lips, and the clean-cut chin is
+prominent and of the martial type. From under his rather heavy eyebrows a
+pair of keen eyes, full of changing light and expression, look somewhat
+contemptuously on the world and its inhabitants. On the whole, the Count
+is a handsome man and looks a gentleman, in spite of his occupation and in
+spite of his clothes, which are in the fashion of twenty years ago, but
+are carefully brushed and all but spotless. There are poor men who can
+wear a coat as a red Indian will ride a mustang which a white man has left
+for dead, beyond the period predetermined by the nature of tailoring as
+the natural term of existence allotted to earthly garments. We look upon a
+centenarian as a miracle of longevity, and he is careful to tell us his
+age if he have not lost the power of speech; but if the coats of poor men
+could speak, how much more marvellous in our eyes would their powers of
+life appear! A stranger would have taken the Count for a half-pay officer
+of good birth in straitened circumstances. The expression of his face at
+the time in question was grave and thoughtful, as though he were thinking
+of matters weightier to his happiness, if not more necessary to his
+material welfare than his work. He saw his fingers moving, he watched each
+honey-coloured bundle of cut leaf as it was rolled in the parchment
+tongue, and with unswerving regularity he made the motions required to
+slip the tobacco into the shell. But, while seeing all that he did, and
+seeing consciously, he looked as though he saw also through the familiar
+materials shaped under his fingers, into a dim distance full of a larger
+life and wider interests.
+
+The five occupants of the workshop had been working in silence for nearly
+half an hour. The two girls on the one side and the two men on the other
+kept their eyes bent down upon their fingers, while Johann Schmidt, the
+Cossack, plied his guillotine-like knife in the corner. This same Johann
+Schmidt, whose real name, to judge from his appearance, might have been
+Tarass Bulba or Danjelo Buralbash, and was probably of a similar sound,
+was at once the wit, the spendthrift and the humanitarian of the
+Fischelowitz manufactory, possessing a number of good qualities in such
+abundant measure as to make him a total failure in everything except the
+cutting of tobacco. Like many witty, generous and kind-hearted persons in
+a much higher rank of existence, he was cursed with a total want of tact.
+On the present occasion, having sliced through an unusually long package
+of leaves and having encountered an exceptional number of obstacles in
+doing so, he thought fit to pause, draw a long breath and wipe the
+perspiration from his sallow forehead with a pocket-handkerchief in which
+the neutral tints predominated. This operation, preparatory to a rest of
+ten minutes, having been successfully accomplished, Tarass Bulba Schmidt
+picked up a tiny oblong bit of paper which had found its way to his feet
+from one of the girls' tables, took a pinch of the freshly cut tobacco
+beside him and rolled a cigarette in his palm with one hand while he felt
+in his pocket for a match with the other. Then, in the midst of a great
+cloud of fragrant smoke, he sat down upon the edge of his cutting-block
+and looked at his companions. After a few moments of deep thought he gave
+expression to his meditations in bad German. It is curious to see how
+readily the Slavs in Germany fall into the habit of using the language of
+the country when conversing together.
+
+"It is my opinion," he said at last, "that the most objectless existences
+are those which most exactly accomplish the object set before them."
+
+Having given vent to this bit of paradox, Johann inhaled as much smoke as
+his leathery lungs could contain and relapsed into silence. Vjera, the
+Polish girl, glanced at the tobacco-cutter and went on with her work. The
+insignificant girl beside her giggled vacantly. Dumnoff did not seem to
+have heard the remark.
+
+"Nineteen hundred and twenty-three," muttered the Count between his teeth
+and in Russian, as the nineteenth hundred and twenty-third cigarette
+rolled from his fingers, and he took up the parchment tongue for the
+nineteenth hundred and twenty-fourth time that day.
+
+"I do not exactly understand you, Herr Schmidt," said Vjera without
+looking up again. "An objectless life has no object. How then--"
+
+"There is nothing to understand," growled Dumnoff, who never counted his
+own work, and always enjoyed a bit of conversation, provided he could
+abuse something or somebody. "There is nothing in it, and Herr Schmidt is
+a Landau moss-head."
+
+It would be curious to ascertain why the wiseacres of eastern Bavaria are
+held throughout South Germany in such contempt as to be a byword for
+dulness and stupidity. The Cossack's dark eyes shot a quick glance at the
+Russian, but he took no notice of the remark.
+
+"I mean," he said, after a pause, "exactly what I say. I am an honest
+fellow, and I always mean what I say, and no offence to anybody. Do we not
+all of us, here with Fischelowitz, exactly fulfil the object set before
+us, I would like to ask? Do we not make cigarettes from morning till night
+with horrible exactness and regularity? Very well. Do we not, at the same
+time, lead an atrociously objectless existence?"
+
+"The object of existence is to live," remarked Dumnoff, who was fond of
+cabbage and strong spirits, and of little else in the world. The Cossack
+laughed.
+
+"Do you call this living?" he asked contemptuously. Then the good-humoured
+tone returned to his voice, and he shrugged his bony shoulders as he
+crossed one leg over the other and took another puff.
+
+"Nineteen hundred and twenty-nine," said the Count.
+
+"Do you call that a life for a Christian man?" asked Schmidt again,
+looking at him and waving towards him the lighted cigarette he held. "Is
+that a life for a gentleman, for a real Count, for a noble, for an
+educated aristocrat, for a man born to be the heir of millions?"
+
+"Thirty," said the Count. "No, it is not. But there is no reason why you
+should remind us of the fact, that I know of. It is bad enough to be
+obliged to do the thing, without being made to talk about it. Not that it
+matters to me so much to-day as it did a year ago, as you may imagine.
+Thirty-one. It will soon be over for me, at least. In fact I only finish
+these two thousand out of kindness to Fischelowitz, because I know he has
+a large order to deliver on the day after to-morrow. And, besides, a
+gentleman must keep his word even--thirty-two--in the matter of making
+cigarettes for other people. But the work on this batch shall be a parting
+gift of my goodwill to Fischelowitz, who is an honest fellow and has
+understood my painful situation all along. To-morrow at this time, I shall
+be far away. Thirty-three."
+
+The Count drew a long breath of relief in the anticipation of his release
+from captivity and hard labour. Vjera dropped her glass tube and her
+little pieces of paper and looked sadly at him, while he was speaking.
+
+"By the by," observed the Cossack, "to-day is Tuesday. I had quite
+forgotten. So you really leave us to-morrow."
+
+"Yes. It is all settled at last, and I have had letters. It is
+to-morrow--and this is my last hundred."
+
+"At what time?" inquired Dumnoff, with a rough laugh. "Is it to be in the
+morning or in the afternoon?"
+
+"I do not know," answered the Count, quietly and with an air of
+conviction. "It will certainly be before night."
+
+"Provided you get the news in time to ask us to the feast," jeered the
+other, "we shall all be as happy as you yourself."
+
+"Thirty-four," said the Count, who had rolled the last cigarette very
+slowly and thoughtfully.
+
+Vjera cast an imploring look on Dumnoff, as though beseeching him not to
+continue his jesting. The rough man, who might have sat for the type of
+the Russian mujik, noticed the glance and was silent.
+
+"Who is incredulous enough to disbelieve this time?" asked the Cossack,
+gravely. "Besides, the Count says that he has had letters, so it is
+certain, at last."
+
+"Love-letters, he means," giggled the insignificant girl, who rejoiced in
+the name of Anna Schmigjelskova. Then she looked at Vjera as though afraid
+of her displeasure.
+
+But Vjera took no notice of the silly speech and sat idle for some
+minutes, gazing at the Count with an expression in which love, admiration
+and pity were very oddly mingled. Pale and ill as she looked, there was a
+ray of light and a movement of life in her face during those few moments.
+Then she took again her glass tube and her bits of paper and resumed her
+task of making shells, with a little heave of her thin chest that betrayed
+the suppression of a sigh.
+
+The Count finished his second thousand, and arranged the last hundreds
+neatly with the others, laying them in little heaps and patting the ends
+with his fingers so that they should present an absolutely symmetrical
+appearance. Dumnoff plodded on, in his peculiar way, doing the work well
+and then carelessly tossing it into a basket by his side. He was capable
+of working fourteen hours at a stretch when there was a prospect of
+cabbage soup and liquor in the evening. The Cossack cleaned his
+cutting-block and his broad swivel knife and emptied the cut tobacco into
+a clean tin box. It was clear that the day's work was almost at an end for
+all present. At that moment Fischelowitz entered with jaunty step and
+smiling face, jingling a quantity of loose silver in his hand. He is a
+little man, rotund and cheerful, quiet of speech and sunny in manner, with
+a brown beard and waving dark hair, arranged in the manner dear to
+barbers' apprentices. He has very soft brown eyes, a healthy complexion
+and a nose the inverse of aquiline, for it curves upwards to its sharp
+point, as though perpetually snuffing after the pleasant fragrance of his
+favourite "Dubec otborny."
+
+"Well, my children," he said, with a slight stammer that somehow lent an
+additional kindliness to his tone, "what has the day's work been? You
+first, Herr Graf," he added, turning to the Count. "I suppose that you
+have made a thousand at least?"
+
+Fischelowitz possessed in abundance the tact which was lacking in Johann
+Schmidt, the Cossack. He well knew that the Count had made double the
+quantity, but he also knew that the latter enjoyed the small triumph of
+producing twice what seemed to be expected of him.
+
+"Two thousand, Herr Fischelowitz," he said, proudly. Then seeing that his
+employer was counting out the sum of six marks, he made a deprecating
+gesture, as though refusing all payment.
+
+"No," he said, with great dignity, and rising from his seat. "No. You must
+allow me, on this occasion, to refuse the honorarium usual under the
+circumstances."
+
+"And why, my dear Count?" inquired Fischelowitz, shaking the six marks in
+one hand and the remainder of his money in the other, as though weighing
+the silver. "And why will you refuse me the honour--"
+
+The other working people exchanged glances of amusement, as though they
+knew what was coming. Vjera hid her face in her hands as she rested her
+elbows on the table before her.
+
+"I must indeed explain," answered the Count. "To-morrow, I shall be
+obliged to leave you, not to return to the occupation which has so long
+been a necessity to me in my troubles. Fortune at last returns to me and I
+am free. I think I have spoken to you in confidence of my situation, once
+at least, if not more often. My difficulties are at an end. I have
+received letters announcing that to-morrow I shall be reinstated in my
+possessions. You have shown me kindness--kindness, Herr Fischelowitz, and,
+what has been more than kindness to me, you have shown me great courtesy.
+Every one has not treated the poor gentleman with the same forbearance.
+But let bygones be bygones. On the occasion of my return to prosperity,
+permit me to offer you, as the only gift as yet within my means, the
+result of my last day's work within these walls. You have been very kind,
+and I thank you very sincerely."
+
+There was a tremor in the Count's voice, and a moisture in his eyes, as he
+drew himself up in his threadbare decent frock-coat and held out his
+sinewy hand, stained with the long handling of tobacco in his daily
+labour. Fischelowitz smiled with uncommon cheerfulness as he grasped the
+bony fingers heartily.
+
+"Thank you," he said. "I accept. I esteem it an honour to have been of any
+assistance to you in your temporary annoyances."
+
+Vjera still hid her face. The Cossack watched what was happening with an
+expression half sad, half curious, and Dumnoff displayed a set of
+ferocious white teeth as he stupidly grinned from ear to ear.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Fischelowitz paid each worker for the day's work, in his quick, cheerful
+way, and each, being paid, passed out through the front shop into the
+street. Five minutes later the Count was strolling along the
+Maximilians-strasse in the direction of the royal palace. As he walked he
+drew himself up to the full height of his military figure and looked into
+the faces of the passers in the way with grave dignity. At that hour there
+were many people abroad, slim lieutenants in the green uniforms of the
+Uhlans and in the blue coats and crimson facings of the heavy cavalry,
+superior officers with silver or gold plated epaulettes, slim maidens and
+plump matrons, beardless students in bright, coloured caps, and solemn,
+elderly civilians with great beards and greater spectacles, great Munich
+burghers and little Munich nobles, gaily dressed children of all ages,
+dogs of every breed from the Saint Bernard to the crooked-jointed Dachs,
+perambulators not a few and legions of nursery-maids. Most of the people
+who passed cast a glance at the thoroughbred-looking man in the threadbare
+frock-coat who looked at them all with such an air of quiet superiority,
+carrying his head so high and putting down his feet with such a firm
+tread. There were doubtless those among the crowd who saw in the tired
+face the indications of a life-story not without interest, for the crowd
+was not, nor ever is, in Munich, lacking in intelligent and observant
+persons. But in all the multitude there was not one man or woman who knew
+the name of the individual to whom the face belonged, and there were few
+who would have risked the respectability of their social position by
+making the acquaintance of a man so evidently poor, even if the occasion
+had presented itself.
+
+But presently a figure was seen moving swiftly through the throng in the
+direction already taken by the Count, a figure of a type much more
+familiar to the sight of the Munich stroller, for it was that of a poorly
+dressed girl with a long plait of red-brown hair, carrying a covered brown
+straw basket upon one arm and hurrying along with the noiseless tread
+possible only in the extreme old age of shoes that were never strong. Poor
+Vjera had been sent by Fischelowitz with a thousand cigarettes to be
+delivered at one of the hotels. She was generally employed upon like
+errands, because she was the poorest in the establishment, and those who
+received the wares gave her a few pence for her trouble. She sped quickly
+onward, until she suddenly found herself close behind the Count. Then she
+slackened her pace and crept along as noiselessly as possible, her eyes
+fixed upon him as she walked and evidently doing her best not to overtake
+him nor to be seen by him. As luck would have it, however, the Count
+suddenly stood still before the show window of a picture-dealer's shop. A
+clever painting of a solitary Cossack riding along a stony mountain road,
+by Josef Brandt, had attracted his attention. Then as he realised that he
+had looked at the picture a dozen times during the previous week, his eye
+wandered, and in the reflection of the plate-glass window he caught sight
+of Vjera's slight form at no great distance from him. He turned sharply
+upon his heels and met her eyes, taking off his limp hat with a courteous
+gesture.
+
+"Permit me," he said, laying his hand upon the basket and trying to take
+it from her.
+
+Poor Vjera's face flushed suddenly, and her grip tightened upon the straw
+handle and she refused to let it go.
+
+"No, you shall never do that again," she said, quickly, trying to draw
+back from him.
+
+"And why not? Why should I not do you a service?"
+
+"The other day you took it--the people stared at you--they never stare at
+me, for I am only a poor girl--"
+
+"And what are the people or what is their staring to me?" asked the Count,
+quietly. "I am not afraid of being taken for a servant or a porter,
+because I carry a lady's parcel. Pray give me the basket."
+
+"Oh no, pray let it be," cried Vjera, in great earnest. "I cannot bear to
+see you with such a thing in your hand."
+
+They were still standing before the picture-dealer's window, while many
+people passed along the pavement. In trying to draw away, Vjera found
+herself suddenly in the stream, and just then a broad-shouldered officer
+who chanced to be looking the other way came into collision with her, so
+roughly that she was forced almost into the Count's arms. The latter made
+a step forward.
+
+"Is it your habit to jostle ladies in that way?" he asked in a sharp tone,
+addressing the stout lieutenant.
+
+The latter muttered something which might be taken for an apology and
+passed on, having no intention of being drawn into a street quarrel with
+an odd-looking individual who, from his accent, was evidently a foreigner.
+The Count's eyes darted an angry glance after the offender, and then he
+looked again at Vjera. In the little accident he had got possession of the
+basket. Thereupon he passed it to his left hand and offered Vjera his
+right arm.
+
+"Did the insolent fellow hurt you?" he asked anxiously, in Polish.
+
+"Oh no--only give me my basket!" Vjera's face was painfully flushed.
+
+"No, my dear child," said the Count, gravely. "You will not deny me the
+pleasure of accompanying you and of carrying your burden. Afterwards, if
+you will, we can take a little walk together, before I see you to your
+home."
+
+"You are always so kind to me," answered the girl, bending her head, as
+though to hide her burning cheeks, but submitting at last to his will.
+
+For some minutes they walked on in silence. Then Vjera showed by a gesture
+that she wished to cross the street, on the other side of which was
+situated one of the principal hotels of the city. In front of the entrance
+Vjera put out her hand entreatingly towards her basket, but the Count took
+no notice of the attempt and resolutely ascended the steps of the porch by
+her side. Behind the swinging glass door stood the huge porter amply
+endowed with that military appearance so characteristic of all men in
+Germany who wear anything of the nature of an official costume.
+
+"The lady has a package for some one here," said the Count, holding out
+the basket.
+
+"For the head waiter," said Vjera, timidly.
+
+The porter took the basket, set it down, touched the button of an electric
+bell and silently looked at the pair with the malignant scrutiny which is
+the prerogative of servants in their manner with those whom they are
+privileged to consider as their inferiors. Presently, however, meeting the
+Count's cold stare, he turned away and strolled up the vestibule. A moment
+later the head waiter appeared, glorious in a perfectly new evening coat
+and a phenomenal shirt front.
+
+"Ah, my cigarettes!" he exclaimed briskly, and the Count heard the chink
+of the nickel pence, as the head waiter inserted two fat white fingers
+into the pocket of his exceedingly fashionable waistcoat.
+
+The sight which must follow was one which the Count was anxious not to
+see. He therefore turned his back and pretended to brush from his sleeve a
+speck of dust revealed to his searching eye in the strong afternoon light
+which streamed through the open door. Then Vjera's low-spoken word of
+thanks and her light tread made him aware that she had received her little
+gratuity; he stood politely aside while she passed out, and then went down
+the half-dozen steps with her. As they began to move up the street, he did
+not offer her his arm again.
+
+"You are so kind, so kind to me," said poor Vjera. "How can I ever thank
+you!"
+
+"Between you and me there is no question of thanks," answered her
+companion. "Or if there is to be such a question it should arise in
+another way. It is for me to thank you."
+
+"For what?"
+
+"For many things, all of which have proceeded from your kindness of heart
+and have resulted in making my life bearable during the past months--or
+years. I keep little account of time. How long is it since I have been
+making cigarettes for Fischelowitz, at the rate of three marks a
+thousand?"
+
+"Ever since I can remember," answered Vjera. "It is six years since I came
+to work there as a little girl."
+
+"Six years? That is not possible! You must be mistaken, it cannot be so
+long."
+
+Vjera said nothing, but turned her face away with an expression of pain.
+
+"Yes, it is a long time, since all that happened," said the Count,
+thoughtfully. "I was a young man then, I am old now."
+
+"Old! How can you say anything so untrue!" Vjera exclaimed with
+considerable indignation.
+
+"Yes, I am old. It is no wonder. We say at home that 'strange earth dies
+without wind.' A foreign land will make old bones of a man without the
+help of years. That is what Germany has done for me. And yet, how much
+older I should be but for you, dear Vjera! Shall we sit down here, in this
+quiet place, under the trees? You know it is all over to-morrow, and I am
+free at last. I would like to tell you my story."
+
+Vjera, who was tired of the close atmosphere of the workroom and whose
+strength was not enough to let her walk far with pleasure, sat down upon
+the green bench willingly enough, but the nervous look of pain had not
+disappeared from her face.
+
+"Is it of any use to tell it to me again?" she asked, sadly, as she leaned
+against the painted backboard.
+
+The Count produced a cigarette and gravely lighted it, before he answered
+her, and when he spoke he seemed to attach little or no importance to her
+question.
+
+"You see," he said, "it is all different now, and I can look at it from a
+different point of view. Formerly when I spoke of it, I am afraid that I
+spoke bitterly, for, of course, I could not foresee that it could all come
+right again so soon, so very soon. And now that this weary time is over I
+can look back upon it with some pride, if with little pleasure--save for
+the part you have played in my life, and--may I say it?--saving the part I
+have played in yours."
+
+He put out his hand gently and tenderly touched hers, and there was
+something in the meeting of those two thin, yellow hands, stained with the
+same daily labour and not meeting for the first time thus, that sent a
+thrill to the two hearts and that might have brought a look of thoughtful
+interest into eyes dulled and wearied by the ordinary sights of this
+world. Vjera did not resent the innocent caress, but the colour that came
+into her face was not of the same hue as that which had burned there when
+he had insisted upon carrying her basket. This time the blush was not
+painful to see, but rather shed a faint light of beauty over the plain,
+pale features. Poor Vjera was happy for a moment.
+
+"I am very glad if I have been anything to you," she said. "I would I
+might have been more."
+
+"More? I do not see--you have been gentle, forbearing, respecting my
+misfortunes and trying to make others respect them. What more could you
+have done, or what more could you have been?"
+
+Vjera was silent, but she softly withdrew her hand from his and gazed at
+the people in the distance. The Count smoked without speaking, for several
+minutes, closing his eyes as though revolving a great problem in his mind,
+then glancing sidelong at his companion's face, hesitating as though about
+to speak, checking himself and shutting his eyes again in meditation.
+Holding his cigarette between his teeth he clasped his fingers together
+tightly, unclasped them again and let his arms fall on each side of him.
+At last he turned sharply, as though resolved what to do.
+
+He believed that he was on the very eve of recovering a vast fortune and
+of resuming a high position in the world. It was no wonder that there was
+a struggle in his soul, when at that moment a new complication seemed to
+present itself. He was indeed sure that he did not love Vjera, and in the
+brilliant dreams which floated before his half-closed eyes, visions of
+beautiful and high-born women dazzled him with their smiles and enchanted
+him by the perfect grace of their movements. To-morrow he might choose his
+wife among such as they. But to-day Vjera was by his side, poor Vjera, who
+alone of those he had known during the years of his captivity had stood by
+him, had felt for him, had given him a sense of reliance in her perfect
+sincerity and honest affection. And her affection had grown into something
+more; it had developed into love during the last months. He had seen it,
+had known it and had done nothing to arrest the growth. Nay, he had done
+worse. Only a moment ago he had taken her hand in a way which might well
+mislead an innocent girl. The Count, according to his lights, was the very
+incarnation of the theory, honour, in the practice, honesty. His path was
+clear. If he had deceived Vjera in the very smallest accent of word or
+detail of deed he must make instant reparation. This was the reason why he
+turned sharply in his seat and looked at her with a look which was
+certainly kind, but which was, perhaps, more full of determination than of
+lover-like tenderness.
+
+"Vjera," he said, slowly, pausing on every syllable of his speech, "will
+you be my wife?"
+
+Vjera looked at him long and shook her head in silence. Instead of
+blushing, she turned pale, changing colour with that suddenness which
+belongs to delicate or exhausted organisations. The Count did not heed the
+plain though unspoken negation and continued to speak very slowly and
+earnestly, choosing his words and rounding his expressions as though he
+were making a declaration to a young princess instead of asking a poor
+Polish girl to marry him. He even drew himself together, as it were, with
+the movement of dignity which was habitual with him, straightening his
+back, squaring his shoulders and leaning slightly forward in his seat. As
+he began to speak again, Vjera clasped her hands upon her knees and looked
+down at the gravel of the public path.
+
+"I am in earnest," he said. "To-morrow, all those rights to which I was
+born will be restored to me, and I shall enjoy what the world calls a
+great position. Am I so deeply indebted to the world that I must submit to
+all its prejudices and traditions? Has the world given me anything, in
+exchange for which it becomes my duty to consult its caprices, or its
+social superstitions? Surely not. To whom am I most indebted, to the world
+which has turned its back on me during a temporary embarrassment and loss
+of fortune, or to my friend Vjera who has been faithfully kind all along?
+The question itself is foolish. I owe everything to Vjera, and nothing to
+the world. The case is simple, the argument is short and the verdict is
+plain. I will not take the riches and the dignities which will be mine by
+this time to-morrow to the feet of some high-born lady who, to-day, would
+look coldly on me because I am not--not quite in the fashion, so far as
+outward appearance is concerned. But I will and I do offer all, wealth,
+title, dignity, everything to Vjera. And she shakes her head, and with a
+single gesture refuses it all. Why? Has she a reason to give? An argument
+to set up? A sensible ground for her decision? No, certainly not."
+
+As he looked gravely towards her averted face, Vjera again shook her head,
+slowly and thoughtfully, with an air of unalterable determination. He
+seemed surprised at her obstinacy and watched her in silence for a few
+moments.
+
+"I see," he said at last, very sadly. "You think that I do not love you."
+Vjera made no sign, and a long pause followed during which the Count's
+features expressed great perplexity.
+
+The day was drawing to its close and the low sun shot level rays through
+the trees of the Hofgarten, far above the heads of the laughing children,
+the gossiping nurses and the slowly moving crowd that filled the pavement
+along the drive in front of the palace. Vjera and the Count were seated on
+a bench which was now already in the shade. The air was beginning to grow
+chilly, but neither of them heeded the change.
+
+"You think that I do not love you," said the Count again. "You are
+mistaken, deeply mistaken, Vjera."
+
+The faint, soft colour rose in the poor girl's waxen cheeks, and there was
+an unaccustomed light in her weary blue eyes as they met his.
+
+"I do not say," continued her companion, "that I love you as boys love at
+twenty. I am past that. I am not a young man any more, and I have had
+misfortunes such as would have broken the hearts of most men, and of the
+kind that do not dispose to great love-passion. If my troubles had come to
+me through the love of a woman--it might have been otherwise. As it is--do
+you think that I have no love for you, Vjera? Do not think that, dear--do
+not let me see that you think it, for it would hurt me. There is much for
+you, much, very much."
+
+"To-day," answered Vjera, sadly, "but not to-morrow."
+
+"You are cruel, without meaning to be even unkind," said the Count in an
+unsteady voice. This time it was Vjera who took his hand in hers and
+pressed it.
+
+"God forbid that I should have an unkind thought for you," she said, very
+tenderly.
+
+The Count turned to her again and there was a moisture in his eyes of
+which he was unconscious.
+
+"Then believe that I do truly love you, Vjera," he answered. "Believe that
+all that there is to give you, I give, and that my all is not a little. I
+love you, child, in a way--ah, well, you have your girlish dreams of love,
+and it is right that you should have them and it would be very wrong to
+destroy them. But they shall not be destroyed by me, and surely not by any
+other man, while I live. I shall grow young again, I will grow young for
+you, for, in years at least, I am not old. I will be a boy for you, Vjera,
+and I will love as boys love, but with the strength of a man who has known
+sorrow and overlived it. You shall not feel that in taking me you are
+taking a father, a protector, a man to whom your youth seems childhood,
+and your youthfulness childish folly. No, no--I will be more than that to
+you, I will be all to you that you are to me, and more, and more, each
+day, till love has made us of one age, of one mind, of one heart. Do you
+not believe that all this shall be? Speak, dear. What is there yet behind
+in your thoughts?"
+
+"I cannot tell. I wish I knew." Vjera's answer was scarcely audible and
+she turned her face from him.
+
+"And yet, there is something, you are keeping something from me, when I
+have kept nothing from you. Why is it? Why do you not quite trust me and
+believe in me? I can make you happy, now. Yesterday it was different and
+so it was in all the yesterdays of yesterdays. I had nothing to offer you
+but myself."
+
+"It were best so," said Vjera in a low voice.
+
+The Count was silent. There was something in her manner which he could not
+understand, or rather, as he fancied, there was something in his own brain
+which prevented him from understanding a very simple matter, and he grew
+impatient with himself. At the same time he felt more and more strongly
+drawn to the young girl at his side. As the sun went down and the evening
+shadows deepened, he saw more in her face than he had been accustomed to
+see there. Every line of the pale features so familiar to his sight in his
+everyday life, reminded him of moments in the recent past when he had been
+wretchedly unhappy, and when the kindly look in Vjera's face had comforted
+him and made life seem less unbearable. In his dreary world she alone had
+shown that she cared whether he lived or died, were insulted or respected,
+were treated like a dog or like a Christian man. The kindness of his
+employer was indeed undeniable, but it was of the sort which grated upon
+the sensitive nature of the unfortunate cigarette-maker, for it was in
+itself vulgarly cheerful, assuming that, after all, the Count should be
+contented with his lot. But Vjera had always seemed to understand him, to
+feel for him, to foresee his sensibilities as it were, and to be prepared
+for them. In a measure appreciable to himself she admired him, and
+admiration alone can make pity palatable to the proud. In her eyes his
+constancy under misfortune was as admirable as his misfortunes themselves
+were worthy of commiseration. In her eyes he was a gentleman, and one who
+had a right to hold his head high among the best. When he was poorest, he
+had felt himself to be in her eyes a hero. Are there many men who can
+resist the charm of the one woman who believes them to be heroic? Are not
+most men, too, really better for the trust and faith that is placed in
+them by others, as the earthen vessel, valueless in itself, becomes a
+thing of prize and beauty under the loving hand of the artist who draws
+graceful figures upon it and colours it skilfully, and handles it
+tenderly?
+
+And now the poor man was puzzled and made anxious by the girl's obstinate
+rejection of his offer. A chilly thought took shape in his mind and pained
+him exceedingly.
+
+"Vjera," he said at last, "I see how it is. You have never loved me. You
+have only pitied me. You are good and kind, Vjera, but I wish it had been
+otherwise."
+
+He spoke very quietly, in a subdued tone, and the moisture which had been
+more than once in his eyes since he had sat down beside the young girl,
+now almost took the shape of a tear. He was wounded in his innocent
+vanity, in the last stronghold of his fast-fading individuality. But Vjera
+turned quickly at the words and a momentary fire illuminated her pale blue
+eyes and dispelled the misty veil that seemed to dull them.
+
+"Whatever you say, do not say that!" she exclaimed. "I love you with all
+my heart--I--ah, if you only understood, if you only knew, if you only
+guessed!"
+
+"That is it," answered the Count. "If I only could--but there is something
+that passes my understanding."
+
+The look of pain faded from his face and gave way to a bright smile, so
+bright, so rare, that it restored in the magic of an instant the freshness
+of early youth to the weary mask of sorrow. Then he covered his eyes with
+his hands as though searching his memory for something he could not find.
+
+"What is it?" he asked, after a short pause and looking suddenly at Vjera.
+"It is something I ought to remember and yet something I have quite
+forgotten. Help me, Vjera, tell me what you are thinking of, and I will
+explain it all."
+
+"I was thinking of this day a week ago," said Vjera, and a little sob
+escaped her as she quickly looked away.
+
+"A week ago? Let me see--what happened a week ago? But why should I ask?
+Nothing ever happens to me, nothing until now! And now, oh Vjera, it is
+you who do not understand, it is you who do not know, who cannot guess."
+
+As if he had forgotten everything else in the sudden realisation of his
+return to liberty and fortune, he began to speak quickly and excitedly in
+a tone louder and clearer than that of his ordinary voice.
+
+"No," he cried, "you can never guess what this change is to me. You can
+never know what I enjoy in the thought of being myself again, you cannot
+understand what it is to have been rich and great, and to be poor and
+wretched and to regain wealth and dignity again by the stroke of a pen in
+the vibration of a second. And yet it is true, all true, I tell you,
+to-day, at last, after so much waiting. To-morrow they will come to my
+lodging to fetch me--a court carriage or two, and many officials who will
+treat me with the old respect I was used to long ago. They will come up my
+little staircase, bringing money, immense quantities of money, and the
+papers and the parchments and the seals. How they will stare at my poor
+lodging, for they have never known that I have been so wretched. Yes, one
+will bring money in a black leathern case--I know just how it will
+look--and another will have with him a box full of documents--all lawfully
+mine--and a third will bring my orders, that I once wore, and with them
+the order of Saint Alexander Nevsky and a letter on broad heavy paper,
+signed Alexander Alexandrovitch, signed by the Tsar himself, Vjera. And I
+shall go with them to be received in audience by the Prince Regent here,
+before I leave for Petersburg. And then, after dinner, in the evening, I
+will get into my special carriage in the express train and my servants
+will make me comfortable and then away, away, a night, and a day and
+another night and perhaps a few hours more and I shall be at home at last,
+in my own great, beautiful home, far out in the glorious country among the
+woods and the streams and the birds; and I shall be driven in an open
+carriage with four horses up from the village through the great avenue of
+poplars to the grand old house. But before I go in I will go to the
+tomb--yes, I will go to the tomb among the trees, and I will say a prayer
+for my father and--"
+
+"Your father?" Vjera started slightly. She had listened to the long
+catalogue of the poor man's anticipations with a sad, unchanging face, as
+though she had heard it all before. But at the mention of his father's
+death she seemed surprised.
+
+"Yes. He is dead at last, and my brother died on the same day. I have had
+letters. There was a disease abroad in the village. They caught it and
+they died. And now everything is mine, everything, the lands and the
+houses and the money, all, all mine. But I will say a prayer for them, now
+that they are dead and I shall never see them again. God knows, they
+treated me ill when they were alive, but death has them at last."
+
+The Count's eyes grew suddenly cold and hard, so that Vjera shuddered as
+she caught the look of hatred in them.
+
+"Death, death, death!" he cried. "Death the judge, the gaoler, the
+executioner! He has done justice on them for me, and they will not break
+loose from the house he has made for them to lie in and to sleep in for
+ever. And now, friend Death, I am master in their stead, and you must give
+me time to enjoy the mastership before you serve me likewise. Oh Vjera,
+the joy, the delight, the ecstasy, the glory of it all!"
+
+He struck the palms of his lean hands together with the gesture of a boy,
+and laughed aloud in the sheer overflowing of his heart. But Vjera sat
+still, silent and thoughtful, beside him, watching him rather anxiously as
+though she feared lest the excess of his happiness might do him an injury.
+
+"You do not say anything, Vjera. You do not seem glad," he said, suddenly
+noticing her expression.
+
+"I am very glad, indeed I am," she answered, smiling with a great effort.
+"Who would not be glad at the thought of seeing you enjoy your own again?"
+
+"It is not for the money, Vjera!" he exclaimed in a lower and more
+concentrated tone. "It is not really for the money nor for the lands, nor
+even for the position or the dignity. Do you know what it is that makes me
+so happy? I have got the best of it. That is it. It has been a long
+struggle and a weary one, but I knew I should win, though I never saw how
+it was to be. When they turned me away from them like a dog, my father and
+my brother, I faced them on the threshold for the last time and I said to
+them, 'Look you, you have made an outcast of me, and yet I am your son, my
+father, and your brother, my brother, and you know it. And yet I tell you
+that when we meet again, I shall be master here, and not you.' And so it
+has turned out, Vjera, for they shall meet me--they dead, and I alive.
+They jeered and laughed, and sent me away with only the clothes I wore,
+for I would not take their money. I hear their laughter now in my
+ears--but I hear, too, a laugh that is louder and more pitiless than
+theirs was, for it is the laugh of Death!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+The Count rose to his feet as he finished the last sentence. It seemed as
+though he were oppressed by the inaction to which he was constrained
+during the last hours of waiting before the great moment, and he moved
+nervously, like a man anxious to throw off a burden.
+
+Vjera rose also, with a slow and weary movement.
+
+"It is late," she said. "I must go home. Good-night."
+
+"No. I will go with you. I will see you to your door."
+
+"Thank you," she answered, watching his face closely.
+
+Then the two walked side by side under the lime trees in the deepening
+evening shadows, to the low archway by which the road leads out of the
+Hofgarten on the side of the city. For some minutes neither spoke, but
+Vjera could hear her companion's quickly drawn, irregular breath. His
+heart was beating fast and his thoughts were chasing each other through a
+labyrinth of dreams, inconsequent, unreasonable, but brilliant in the
+extreme. His head high, his shoulders thrown back, his eyes flashing, his
+lips tightly closed, the Count marched out with his companion into the
+broad square. He felt that this had been the last day of his slavery and
+that the morrow's sun was to rise upon a brighter and a happier period of
+his life, in which there should be no more poverty, no more manual labour,
+no more pinching and grinding and tormenting of himself in the hopeless
+effort at outward and visible respectability. Poor Vjera saw in his face
+what was passing in his mind, but her own expression of sadness did not
+change. On the contrary, since his last outbreak of triumphant
+satisfaction she had been more than usually depressed. For a long time the
+Count did not again notice her low spirits, being absorbed in the
+contemplation of his own splendid future. At last he seemed to recollect
+her presence at his side, glanced at her, made as though to say something,
+checked himself, and began humming snatches from an old opera. But either
+his musical memory did not serve him, or his humour changed all at once,
+for he suddenly was silent again, and after glancing once more at Vjera's
+downcast face his own became very grave.
+
+He had been brought back to present considerations, and he found himself
+in one of those dilemmas with which his genuine pride, his innocent and
+harmless vanity and his innate kindness constantly beset his life. He had
+asked Vjera to marry him, scarcely half an hour earlier, and he now found
+himself separated from the moment which had given birth to the generous
+impulse, by a lengthened contemplation of his own immediate return to
+wealth and importance.
+
+He was deeply attached to the poor Polish girl, as men shipwrecked upon
+desert islands grow fond of persons upon whom they could have bestowed no
+thought in ordinary life. He had grown well accustomed to his poor
+existence, and in the surroundings in which he found himself, Vjera was
+the one being in whom, besides sympathy for his misfortune, he discovered
+a sensibility rarer than common, and the unconscious development of a
+natural refinement. There are strange elements to be found in all great
+cities among the colonies of strangers who make their dwellings therein.
+Brought together by trouble, they live in tolerance among themselves, and
+none asks the other the fundamental question of upper society, "Whence art
+thou?"--nor does any make of his neighbour the inquiry which rises first
+to the lips of the man of action, "Whither goest thou?" They meet as the
+seaweed meets on the crest of the wave, of many colours from many distant
+depths, to intermingle for a time in the motion of the waters, to part
+company under the driving of the north wind, to be drifted at last,
+forgetful of each other, by tides and currents which wash the opposite
+ends of the earth. This is the life of the emigrant, of the exile, of the
+wanderer among men; the incongruous elements meet, have brief acquaintance
+and part, not to meet again. Who shall count the faces that the exile has
+known, the voices that have been familiar in his ear, the hands that have
+pressed his? In every land and in every city, he has met and talked with a
+score, with scores, with hundreds of men and women all leading the more or
+less mysterious and uncertain life which has become his own by necessity
+or by choice. If he be an honest man and poor, a dozen trades have
+occupied his fingers in half a dozen capitals; if he be dishonest, a
+hundred forms and varieties of money-bringing dishonesty are sheathed like
+arrows in his quiver, to be shot unawares into the crowd of well-to-do and
+unsuspecting citizens on the borders of whose respectable society the
+adventurer warily picks his path.
+
+It is rarely that two persons meet under such circumstances between whom
+the bond of a real sympathy exists and can develop into lasting friendship
+between man and man, or into true love between man and woman. When both
+feel themselves approaching such a point, they are also unconsciously
+returning to civilisation, and with the civilising influence arises the
+desire to ask the fatal question, "Whence art thou?"--or the fear lest the
+other may ask it, and the anxiety to find an answer where there is none
+that will bear scrutiny.
+
+It was therefore natural that the Count should feel disturbed at what he
+had done, in spite of his sincere and honourable wish to abide by his
+proposal and to make Vjera his wife. He felt that in returning to his own
+position in the world he owed it in a measure to himself to wed with a
+maiden of whom he could at least say that she came of honest people.
+Always centred in his own alternating hopes and fears, and conscious of
+little in the lives of others, it seemed to him that a great difficulty
+had suddenly revealed itself to his apprehensions. At the same time, by a
+self-contradiction familiar to such natures as his, he felt himself more
+and more strongly drawn to the girl, and more and more strictly bound in
+honour to marry her. As he thought of this, his habitual contempt of the
+world and its opinion returned. What had the world done for him? And if he
+had felt no obligation to consult it in his poverty, why need he bend to
+any such slavery in the coming days of his splendour? He stopped suddenly
+at the corner of the street in which the Polish girl lived. She lodged,
+with a little sister who was still too young to work, in a room she hired
+of a respectable Bohemian shoemaker. The latter's wife was of the
+sour-good kind, whose chief talent lies in giving their kind actions a
+hard-hearted appearance.
+
+"Vjera," said the Count, earnestly, "I have been talking a great deal
+about myself. You must forgive me, for the news I have received is so very
+important and makes such a sudden difference in my prospects. But you have
+not given me the answer I want to my question. Will you be my wife, Vjera,
+and come with me out of this wretched existence to share my happy life and
+to make it happier? Will you?"
+
+His tone was so sincere and loving that it produced a little storm of
+evanescent happiness in the girl's heart, and the tears started to her
+eyes and stained her sallow, waxen cheeks.
+
+"Ah, if it could only be true!" she exclaimed in a voice more than half
+full of hope, as she quickly brushed away the drops.
+
+"But it is true, indeed it is," answered the Count. "Oh, Vjera, do you
+think I would deceive you? Do you think I could tell you a story in which
+there is no truth whatever? Do not think that of me, Vjera."
+
+The tears broke out afresh, but from a different source. For some seconds
+she could not speak.
+
+"Why do you cry so bitterly?" he asked, not understanding at all what was
+passing. "I swear to you it is all true--"
+
+"It is not that--it is not that," cried Vjera. "I know--I know that you
+believe it--and I love you so very much--"
+
+"But then, I do not understand," said the Count in a low voice that
+expressed his pitiful perplexity. "How can I not believe it, when it is
+all in the letters? And why should you not believe it, too? Besides, Vjera
+dear, it will all be quite clear to-morrow. Of course--well, I can
+understand that having known me poor so long, it must seem strange to you
+to think of me as very rich. But I shall not be another man, for that. I
+shall always be the same for you, Vjera, always the same."
+
+"Yes, always the same," sighed the girl under her breath.
+
+"Yes, and so, if you love me to-day, you will love me just as well
+to-morrow--to-morrow, the great day for me. What day will it be? Let me
+see--to-morrow is Wednesday."
+
+"Wednesday, yes," repeated Vjera. "If only there were no to-morrow--" She
+checked herself. "I mean," she added, quickly, "if only it could be
+Thursday, without any day between."
+
+"You are a strange girl, Vjera. I do not know what you are thinking of
+to-day. But to-morrow you will see. I think they will come for me in the
+morning. You shall see, you shall see."
+
+Vjera began to move onward and the Count walked by her side, wondering at
+her manner and tormenting his brain in the vain effort to understand it.
+In front of her door he held out his hand.
+
+"Promise me one thing," he said, as she laid her fingers in his and looked
+up at him. Her eyes were still full of tears.
+
+"What is it?" she asked.
+
+"Promise that you will be my wife, when you are convinced that all this
+good fortune is real. You do not believe in it, though I cannot tell why.
+I only ask that when you are obliged to believe in it, you will do as I
+ask."
+
+Vjera hesitated, and as she stood still the hand he held trembled
+nervously.
+
+"I promise," she said, at last, as though with a great effort. Then, all
+at once, she covered her eyes and leaned against the door-post. He laid
+his hand caressingly upon her shoulder.
+
+"Is it so hard to say?" he asked, tenderly.
+
+"Oh, but if it should ever be indeed true!" she moaned. "If it should--if
+it should!"
+
+"What then? Shall we not be happy together? Will it not be even pleasant
+to remember these wretched years?"
+
+"But if it should turn out so--oh, how can I ever be a fitting wife for
+you, how can I learn all that a great lady must think, and do, and say? I
+shall be unworthy of you--of your new friends, of your new world--but
+then, it cannot really happen. No--do not speak of it any more, it hurts
+me too much--good-night, good-night! Let us sleep and forget, and go back
+to our work in the morning, as though nothing had happened--in the
+morning, to-morrow. Will you? Then good-night."
+
+"There will be no work to-morrow," he said, returning to his argument. But
+she broke away and fled from him and disappeared in the dark and narrow
+staircase. As he stood, he could hear her light tread on the creaking wood
+of the steps, fainter and fainter in the distance. Then he caught the
+feeble tinkle of a little bell, the opening and shutting of a door, and he
+was alone in the gloom of the evening.
+
+For some minutes he stood still, as though listening for some faint echo
+from the direction in which Vjera had disappeared, then he slowly and
+thoughtfully walked away. He had forgotten to eat at dinner-time, and now
+he forgot that the hour of the second meal had come round. He walked on,
+not knowing and not caring whither he went, absorbed in the contemplation
+of the bright pictures which framed themselves in his brain, troubled only
+by his ever-recurring wonder at Vjera's behaviour.
+
+Unconsciously, and from sheer force of habit, he threaded the streets in
+the direction of the tobacconist's shop where so much of his time was
+spent. If it be not true that the ghosts of the dead haunt places familiar
+to them in life, yet the superstition is founded upon the instincts of
+human nature. Men begin to haunt certain spots unconsciously while they
+are alive, especially those which they are obliged to visit every day and
+in which they are accustomed to sit, idle or at work, during the greater
+part of the week. The artist, when he wishes to be completely at rest,
+re-enters the studio he left but an hour earlier; the sailor hangs about
+the port when he is ashore, the shopman cannot resist the temptation to
+spend an hour among his wares on Sunday, the farmer is irresistibly drawn
+to the field to while away the time on holidays between dinner and supper.
+We all of us see more and understand better what we see, in those
+surroundings most familiar to us, and it is a general law that the average
+intelligence likes the best that which it understands with the least
+effort. The mechanical part of us, too, when free from any direct and
+especial impulse of the mind, does unknowingly what it has been in the
+habit of doing. Two-thirds of all the physical diseases in the world are
+caused by the disturbance of the mental habits and are vastly aggravated
+by the direction of the thoughts to the part afflicted. Idiots and madmen
+are often phenomenally healthy people, because there is in their case no
+unnatural effort of the mind to control and manage the body. The Count
+having bestowed no thought upon the direction of his walk, mechanically
+turned towards the scene of his daily labour.
+
+Considering that he believed himself to have abandoned for ever the
+irksome employment of rolling tobacco in a piece of parchment in order to
+slip it into a piece of paper, it might have been supposed that he would
+be glad to look at anything rather than the glass door of the shop in
+which he had repeated that operation so many hundreds of thousands of
+times; or, at least, it might have been expected that on realising where
+he was he would be satisfied with a glance of recognition and would turn
+away.
+
+But the Count's fate had ordained otherwise. When he reached the shop the
+lights were burning brightly in the show window and within. Through the
+glass door he could see that Fischelowitz was comfortably installed in a
+chair behind the counter, contentedly smoking one of his own best
+cigarettes, and smiling happily to himself through the fragrant cloud. If
+the tobacconist's wife had been present, the Count would have gone away
+without entering, for he did not like her, and had reason to suspect that
+she hated him, which was indeed the case. But Akulina was nowhere to be
+seen, the shop looked bright and cheerful, the Count was tired, he pushed
+the door and entered. Fischelowitz turned his head without modifying his
+smile, and seeing who his visitor was nodded familiarly. The Count raised
+his hat a little from his head and immediately replaced it.
+
+"Good-evening, Herr Fischelowitz," he said, speaking, as usual, in German.
+
+"Good-evening, Count," answered the tobacconist, cheerfully. "Sit down,
+and light a cigarette. What is the news?"
+
+"Great news with me, for to-morrow," said the other, bending his head as
+he stooped over the nickel-plated lamp on the counter, in which a tiny
+flame burned for the convenience of customers. "To-morrow, at this time, I
+shall be on my way to Petersburg."
+
+"Well, I hope so, for your sake," was the good-humoured reply. "But I am
+afraid it will always be to-morrow, Herr Graf."
+
+The Count shook his head after staring for a few seconds at his employer,
+and then smoked quietly, as though he attached no weight to the remark.
+Fischelowitz looked curiously at him, and during a brief moment the smile
+faded from his face.
+
+"You have not been long at supper," he remarked, after a pause. The
+observation was suggested by the condition of his own appetite.
+
+"Supper?" repeated the Count, rather vaguely. "I believe I had forgotten
+all about it. I will go presently."
+
+"The Count is reserving himself for to-morrow," said an ironical voice in
+the background. Akulina entered the shop from the workroom, a guttering
+candle in a battered candlestick in one hand, and a number of gaily
+coloured pasteboard boxes tucked under the other arm. "What is the use of
+eating to-day when there will be so many good things to-morrow?"
+
+Neither Fischelowitz nor the Count vouchsafed any answer to this thrust.
+For the second time, since the Count had entered, however, the tobacconist
+wore an expression approaching to gravity. The Count himself kept his
+composure admirably, only glancing coldly at Akulina, and then looking at
+his cigarette. Akulina is a broad, fat woman, with a flattened Tartar
+face, small eyes, good but short teeth, full lips and a dark complexion.
+She reminds one of an over-fed tabby cat, of doubtful temper, and her
+voice seems to reach utterance after traversing some thick, soft medium,
+which lends it an odd sort of guttural richness. She moves quietly but
+heavily and has an Asiatic second sight in the matter of finance. In
+matters of thrift and foresight her husband places implicit confidence in
+her judgment. In matters of generosity and kindness implying the use of
+money, he never consults her.
+
+"It is amazing to see how much people will believe," she said, putting out
+her candle and snuffing it with her thumb and forefinger. Then she began
+to arrange the boxes she had brought, setting them in order upon the
+shelves. Still neither of the men answered her. But she was not the woman
+to be reduced to silence by silence.
+
+"I am always telling you that it is all rubbish," she continued, turning a
+broad expanse of alpaca-covered back upon her audience. "I am always
+telling you that you are no more a count than Fischelowitz is a grand
+duke, that the whole thing is a foolish imagination which you have stuck
+into your head, as one sticks tobacco into a paper shell. And it ought to
+be burned out of your head, or starved out, or knocked out, or something,
+for if it stays there it will addle your brains altogether. Why cannot you
+see that you are in the world just like other people, and give up all
+these ridiculous dreams and all this chatter about counts and princes and
+such like people, of whom you never spoke to one in your life, for all you
+may say?"
+
+The Count glanced at the back of Akulina's head, which was decently
+covered by a flattened twist of very shining black hair, and then he
+looked at Fischelowitz as though to inquire whether the latter would
+suffer a gentleman to be thus insulted in his presence and on his
+premises. Fischelowitz seemed embarrassed, and coloured a little.
+
+"You might choose your language a little more carefully, wife," he
+observed in a rather timid tone.
+
+"And you might choose your friends with a better view to your own
+interests," she answered without hesitation. "If you allow this sort of
+thing to go on, and four children growing up, and you expecting to open
+another shop this summer--why, you had better turn count yourself," she
+concluded, triumphantly, and with that nice logical perception peculiar to
+her kind.
+
+"If you mean to say that the Count's valuable help has not been to our
+advantage--" began Fischelowitz, making a desperate effort to give a more
+pleasant look to things.
+
+"Oh, I know that," laughed Akulina, scornfully. "I know that the Count, as
+you call him, can make his two thousand a day as well as any one. I am not
+blind. And I know you, and I know that it is a sort of foolish pleasure to
+you to employ a count in the work and to pay your money to a count, though
+he does not earn it any better than any one else, nor any worse, to be
+just. And I know the Count, and I know his friends who borrow fifty marks
+of you and pay you back in stuffed dolls with tunes in them. I know you,
+Christian Gregorovitch"--at the thought of the lost money Akulina broke at
+last into her native language and gave the reins to her fury in good
+Russian--"yes, I know you, and him, and his friends and your friends, and
+I see the good yellow money flying out of the window like a flight of
+canary birds when the cage is opened, and I see you grinning like
+Player-Ape over the vile Vienna puppet, and winding up its abominable
+music as though you were turning the key upon your money in the safe
+instead of listening to the tune of its departure. And then because
+Akulina has the courage to tell you the truth, and to tell you that your
+fine Count is no count, and that his friends get from you ten times the
+money he earns, then you turn on me like a bear, ready to bite off my
+head, and you tell me to choose my language! Is there no shame in you,
+Christian Gregorovitch, or is there also no understanding? Am I the mother
+of your four children or not? I would like to ask. I suppose you cannot
+deny that, whatever else you deny which is true, and you tell me to choose
+my language! _Da_, I will choose my language, in truth! _Da_, I will
+choose out such a swarm of words as ought to sting your ears like hornets,
+if you had not such a leathery skin and such a soft brain inside it. But
+why should I? It is thrown away. There is no shame in you. You see
+nothing, you care for nothing, you hear no reason, you feel no argument. I
+will go home and make soup. I am better there than in the shop. Oh yes! it
+is always that. Akulina can make good things to eat, and good tea and good
+punch to drink, and Akulina is the Archangel Michael in the kitchen. But
+if Akulina says to you, 'Save a penny here, do not lend more than you have
+there,' Akulina is a fool and must be told to choose her language, lest it
+be too indelicate for the dandified ears of the high-born gentleman! I
+should not wonder if, by choosing her language carefully enough, Akulina
+ended by making the high-born gentleman understand something after all.
+His perception cannot possibly be so dull as yours, Christian
+Gregorovitch, my little husband."
+
+Akulina paused for breath after her tremendous invective, which, indeed,
+was only intended by her for the preface of the real discourse, so fertile
+was her imagination and so thoroughly roused was her eloquence by the
+sense of injury received. While she was speaking, Fischelowitz, whose
+terror of his larger half was only relative, had calmly risen and had
+wound up the "Wiener Gigerl" to the extreme of the doll's powers, placing
+it on the counter before him and sitting down before it in anticipation of
+the amusement he expected to derive from its performance. In the short
+silence which ensued while Akulina was resting her lungs for a second and
+more deadly effort, the wretched little musical box made itself heard,
+clicking and scratching and grinding out a miserable little polka. At the
+sound, the sunny smile returned to the tobacconist's face. He knew that no
+earthly eloquence, no scathing wit, no brutal reply could possibly
+exasperate his wife as this must. He resented everything she had said, and
+in his vulgar way he was ashamed that she should have said it before the
+Count, and now he was glad that by the mere turning of a key he could
+answer her storm of words in a way to drive her to fury, while at the same
+time showing his own indifference. As for the Count himself, he had moved
+nearer to the door and was looking quietly out into the irregularly
+lighted street, smoking as though he had not heard a word of what had been
+said. As he stood, it was impossible for either of the others to see his
+face, and he betrayed no agitation by movement or gesture.
+
+Akulina turned pale to the lips, as her husband had anticipated. It is
+probable that the most tragic event conceivable in her existence could not
+have affected her more powerfully than the twang of the musical box and
+the twisting and turning of the insolent little wooden head. She came
+round to the front of the counter with gleaming eyes and clenched fists.
+
+"Stop that thing!" she cried, "Stop it, or it will drive me mad."
+
+Fischelowitz still smiled, and the doll continued to turn round and round
+to the tune, while the Count looked out through the open door. Suddenly
+there was a quick shadow on the brightly lighted floor of the shop,
+followed instantly by a crash, and then with a miserable attempt to finish
+its tune the little instrument gave a resounding groan and was silent.
+Akulina had struck the Gigerl such a blow as had sent it flying, pedestal
+and all, past her husband's head into a dark corner behind the counter.
+Fischelowitz reddened with anger, and Akulina stood ready to take to
+flight, glad that the broad counter was between herself and her husband.
+Her fury had spent itself in one blow and she would have given anything to
+set the doll up in its place again unharmed. She realised at the same
+instant that she had probably destroyed any intrinsic value which the
+thing had possessed, and her face fell wofully. The Count turned slowly
+where he stood and looked at the couple.
+
+"Are you going to fight each other?" he inquired in unusually bland tones.
+
+At the sound of his voice the Russian woman's anger rose again, glad to
+find some new object upon which to expend itself and on which to exercise
+vengeance for the catastrophe its last expression had brought about. She
+turned savagely upon the Count and shook her plump brown fists in his
+face.
+
+"It is all your fault!" she exclaimed. "What business have you to come
+between husband and wife with your friends and your cursed dolls, the
+fiend take them, and you! Is it for this that Christian Gregorovitch and I
+have lived together in harmony these ten years and more? Is it for this
+that we have lived without a word of anger--"
+
+"What did you say?" asked Fischelowitz, with an angry laugh. But she did
+not heed him.
+
+"Without a word of anger between us, these many years?" she continued. "Is
+it for this? To have our peace destroyed by a couple of Wiener Gigerls, a
+doll and a sham count? But it is over now! It is over, I tell you--go, get
+yourself out of the shop, out of my sight, into the street where you
+belong! For honest folks to be harbouring such a fellow as you are, and
+not you only, but your friends and your rag and your tag! Fie! If you stay
+here long we shall end in dust and feathers! But you shall not stay here,
+whatever that soft-brained husband of mine says. You shall go and never
+come back. Do you think that in all Munich there is no one else who will
+do the work for three marks a thousand? Bah! there are scores, and honest
+people, too, who call themselves by plain names and speak plainly! None of
+your counts and your grand dukes and your Lord-knows-whats! Go, you
+adventurer, you disturber of--why do you look at me like that? I have
+always known the truth about you, and I have never been able to bear the
+sight of you and never shall. You have deceived my husband, poor man,
+because he is not as clever as he is good-natured, but you never could
+deceive me, try as you would, and the Lord knows, you have tried often
+enough. Pah! You good-for-nothing!"
+
+The poor Count had drawn back against the well-filled shop and had turned
+deadly pale as she heaped insult upon insult upon him in her incoherent
+and foul-mouthed anger. As soon as she paused, exhausted by the effort to
+find epithets to suit her hatred of him, he went up to the counter where
+Fischelowitz was sitting, very much disturbed at the course events were
+taking.
+
+"My dear Count," began the latter, anxious to set matters right, "pray do
+not pay any attention--"
+
+"I think I had better say good-bye," answered the Count in a low tone. "We
+part on good terms, though you might have said a word for me just now."
+
+"He dare not!" cried Akulina.
+
+"And as for the doll, if you will give it to me, I promise you that you
+shall have your fifty marks to-morrow."
+
+"Oho! He knows where to get fifty marks, now!" exclaimed Akulina,
+viciously.
+
+Fischelowitz picked up the puppet, which was broken in two in the waist,
+so that the upper half of the body hung down by the legs, in a limp
+fashion, held only by the little red coat. The tobacconist wrapped it up
+in a piece of newspaper without a word and handed it to the Count. He felt
+perhaps that the only atonement he could offer for his wife's brutal
+conduct was to accede to the request.
+
+"Thank you," said the Count, taking the thing. "On the word of a gentleman
+you shall have the money before to-morrow night."
+
+"A good riddance of both of them," snarled Akulina, as the Count lifted
+his hat and then, his head bent more than was his wont, passed out of the
+shop with the remains of the poor Gigerl under his arm.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+The Count had no precise object in view when he hurriedly left the shop
+with the parcel containing the broken doll. What he most desired for the
+moment was to withdraw himself from the storm of Akulina's abuse, seeing
+that he had no means of checking the torrent, nor of exacting satisfaction
+for the insults received. However he might have acted had the aggressor
+been a man, he was powerless when attacked by a woman, and he was aware
+that he had followed the only course which had in it anything of dignity
+and self-respect. To stand and bandy words and epithets of abuse would
+have been worse than useless, to treat the tobacconist like a gentleman
+and to hold him responsible for his wife's language would have been more
+than absurd. So the Count took the remains of the puppet and went on his
+way.
+
+He was not, however, so superior to good and bad treatment as not to feel
+deeply wounded and thoroughly roused to anger. Perhaps, if he had been
+already in possession of the fortune and dignity which he expected on the
+morrow, he might have smiled contemptuously at the virago's noisy wrath,
+feeling nothing and caring even less what she felt towards him. But he had
+too long been poor and wretched to bear with equanimity any reference to
+his wretchedness or his poverty, and he was too painfully conscious of the
+weight of outward circumstances in determining men's judgments of their
+fellows not to be stung by the words that had been so angrily applied to
+him. Moreover, and worst of all, there was the fact that Fischelowitz had
+really lent the money to a poor countryman who had previously made the
+acquaintance of the Count, and had by that means induced the tobacconist
+to help him. It was true, indeed, that the poor Count had himself lent the
+fellow all he had in his pocket, which meant all that he had in the world,
+and had been half starved in consequence during a whole week. The man was
+an idle vagabond of the worst type, with a pitiful tale of woe well worded
+and logically put together, out of which he made a good livelihood.
+Nature, as though to favour his designs, had given him a face which
+excited sympathy, and he had the wit to cover his eyes, his own tell-tale
+feature, with coloured glasses. He had cheated several scores of persons
+in the Slav colony of Munich, and had then gone in search of other
+pastures. How he had obtained possession of the Wiener Gigerl was a
+mystery as yet unsolved. It had certainly seemed odd in the tobacconist's
+opinion that a man of such outward appearance should have received such an
+extremely improbable Christmas present, for such the adventurer declared
+the doll to be, from a rich aunt in Warsaw, who refused to give him a
+penny of ready money and had caused him to be turned from her doors by her
+servants when he had last visited her, on the ground that he had joined
+the Russian Orthodox Church without her consent. The facetious young
+villain had indeed declared that she had sent him the puppet as a piece of
+scathing irony, illustrative of his character as she conceived it. But
+though such an illustration would have been apt beyond question, yet it
+seemed improbable that the aunt would have chosen such a means of
+impressing it upon her nephew's mind. Fischelowitz, however, asked no
+questions, and took the Gigerl as payment of the debt. The thing amused
+him, and it diverted him to construct an imaginary chain of circumstances
+to explain how the man in the coloured glasses had got possession of it.
+It was of course wholly inconceivable that even the most accomplished
+shop-lifter should have carried off an object of such inconvenient
+proportions from the midst of its fellows and under the very eyes of the
+vendor. If he had supposed a theft possible, Fischelowitz would never have
+allowed the doll to remain on his premises a single day. He was too
+kind-hearted, also, to blame the Count, as his wife did, for having been
+the promoter of the loan, for he readily admitted that he would have lent
+as much, had he made the vagabond's acquaintance under any other
+circumstances.
+
+But the Count, since Akulina had expressed herself with so much force and
+precision, could not look upon the affair in the same light. However
+Fischelowitz regarded it, Akulina had made it clear that the Count ought
+to be held responsible for the loss, and it was not in the nature of such
+a man, no matter how wretched his own estate, to submit to the imputation
+of being concerned in borrowing money which was never to be repaid. His
+natural impulse had been to promise repayment instantly, and as he was
+expecting to be turned into a rich man on the morrow the engagement seemed
+an easy one to keep. It would be more difficult to explain why he wanted
+to take away the broken puppet with him. Possibly he felt that in removing
+it from the shop, he was taking with it even the memory of the transaction
+of which the blame had been so bitterly thrown on him; or, possibly, he
+was really attached to the toy for its associations, or, lastly, he may
+have felt impelled to save it from Akulina's destroying wrath, so far as
+it yet could be said to be saved.
+
+As has been said, he had not dined on that day, and he would very probably
+have forgotten to eat, even after being reminded of the meal by the
+tobacconist, had he not passed, on his way homeward, the obscure
+restaurant in which he and the other men who worked for Fischelowitz were
+accustomed to get their food and drink. This fifth-rate eating-house
+rejoiced in the attractive name of the "Green Wreath," a designation
+painted in large dusty green Gothic letters upon the grey walls of the
+dilapidated house in which it was situated. There are not to be found in
+respectable Munich those dens of filth and drunkenness which belong to
+greater cities whose vices are in proportion greater also. In Munich the
+strength of fiery spirits is drowned in oceans of mild beer, a liquid of
+which the head will stand more than the waistband and which, instead of
+exciting to crime, predisposes the consumer to peaceful and lengthened
+sleep. The worst that can be said of the poorer public-houses in Munich,
+is that they are frequented by the poorer people, and that as the
+customers bring less money than elsewhere, there is less drinking in
+proportion, and a greater demand for large quantities of very filling food
+at very low rates. As a general rule, such places are clean and decently
+kept, and the sight of a drunken man in the public room would excite very
+considerable astonishment, besides entailing upon the culprit a summary
+expulsion into the street and a rather forcible injunction not to repeat
+the offence.
+
+The four windows of the establishment which opened upon the narrow street
+were open, for the weather had become sultry even out of doors, and the
+guests wanted fresh air. At one of these windows the Count saw the heads
+of Dumnoff and Schmidt. With the instinct of the poor man, the Count felt
+in his pocket to see whether he had any money, and was somewhat disturbed
+to find but a solitary piece of silver, feebly supported on either side by
+a couple of one-penny pieces. He had forgotten that he had refused to
+accept his pay for the day's work, and it required an effort of memory to
+account for the low state of his funds. But what he had with him was
+sufficient for his wants, and settling his parcel under his arm he
+ascended the three or four steps which gave access to the inn, and entered
+the public room. Besides the Russian and the Cossack, there were three
+public porters seated at the next table, dressed in their blue blouses,
+their red cloth caps hanging on the pegs over their heads, all silent and
+similarly engaged. Each had before him a piece of that national cheese of
+which the smell may almost be heard, each had lately received a thick,
+irregularly-shaped hunch of dark bread, and they had one pot of beer and
+one salt-cellar amongst them. They all had honest German faces, honest
+blue eyes, horny hands and round shoulders. Another table, in a far
+corner, was occupied by a poorly-dressed old woman in black, dusty and
+evidently tired. A covered basket stood on a chair at her elbow, she was
+eating an unwholesome-looking "knoedel" or boiled potato ball, and half a
+pint of beer stood before her still untouched. As for the Cossack and
+Dumnoff, they had finished their meal. The former was smoking a cigarette
+through a mouth-piece made by boring out the well-dried leg-bone of a
+chicken and was drinking nothing. Dumnoff had before him a small glass of
+the common whisky known as "corn-brandy" and was trying to give it a
+flavour resembling the vodka of his native land by stirring pepper into it
+with the blade of an old pocket-knife. Both looked up, without betraying
+any surprise, as the Count entered and sat himself down at the end of
+their oblong table, facing the open window and with his back to the room.
+A word of greeting passed on each side and the two relapsed into silence,
+while the Count ordered a sausage "with horse-radish" of the sour-sweet
+maiden of five-and-thirty who waited on the guests. The Cossack, always
+observant of such things, looked at the oddly-shaped package which the
+Count had brought with him, trying to divine its contents and signally
+failing in the attempt. Dumnoff, who did not like the Count's
+gentlemanlike manners and fine speech, sullenly stirred the fiery mixture
+he was concocting. The colour on his prominent cheek-bones was a little
+brighter than before supper, but otherwise it was impossible to say that
+he was the worse for the half-pint of spirits he had certainly absorbed
+since leaving his work. The man's strong peasant nature was proof against
+far greater excesses than his purse could afford.
+
+"What is the news?" inquired Johann Schmidt, still eyeing the bundle
+curiously, and doubtless hoping that the Count would soon inform him of
+the contents. But the latter saw the look and glanced suspiciously at the
+questioner.
+
+"No news, that I know of," he answered. "Except for me," he added, after a
+pause, and looking dreamily out of the window at a street lamp that was
+burning opposite. "To-morrow, at this time, I shall be off."
+
+"And where are you going?" asked the Cossack, good-humouredly. "Are you
+going for long, if I may ask?"
+
+"Yes--yes. I shall never come back to Munich." He had been speaking in
+German, but noticing that the other guests in the room were silent, and
+thinking that they might listen, he broke off into Russian. "I shall go
+home, at last," he said, his face brightening perceptibly as his visions
+of wealth again rose before his eyes. "I shall go home and rest myself for
+a long time in the country, and then, next winter, perhaps, I will go to
+Petersburg."
+
+"Well, well, I wish you a pleasant journey," said Schmidt. "So there is to
+be no mistake about the fortune this time?"
+
+"This time?" repeated the Count, as though not understanding. "Why do you
+say this time?"
+
+"Because you have so often expected it before," returned the Cossack
+bluntly, but without malice.
+
+"I do not remember ever saying so," said the other, evidently searching
+among his recollections.
+
+"Every Tuesday," growled Dumnoff, sipping his peppery liquor. "Every
+Tuesday since I can remember."
+
+"I think you must be mistaken," said the Count, politely.
+
+Dumnoff grunted something quite incomprehensible, and which might have
+been taken for the clearing of his huge throat after the inflaming
+draught. The Cossack was silent, and his bright eyes looked pityingly at
+his companion.
+
+"And you have begun to put together your parcels for the journey, I see,"
+he observed after a time, when the Count had got his morsel of food and
+was beginning to eat it. His curiosity gave him no rest.
+
+"Yes," answered the Count, mysteriously. "That is something which I shall
+probably take with me, as a remembrance of Munich."
+
+"I should not have thought that you needed anything more than a cigarette
+to remind you of the place," remarked Dumnoff.
+
+The Count smiled faintly, for, considering Dumnoff's natural dulness, the
+remark had a savour of wit in it.
+
+"That is true," he said. "But there are other things which could remind me
+even more forcibly of my exile."
+
+"Well, what is it? Tell us!" cried Dumnoff, impatiently enough, but
+somewhat softened by the Count's appreciation of his humour. At the same
+time he put out his broad red hand in the direction of the parcel as
+though he would see for himself.
+
+"Let it be!" said Schmidt sharply, and Dumnoff withdrew his hand again. He
+had fallen into the habit of always doing what the Cossack told him to do,
+obeying mutely, like a well-trained dog, though he obeyed no one else. The
+descendant of freemen instinctively lorded it over the descendant of the
+serf, and the latter as instinctively submitted.
+
+The Count's temper, however, was singularly changeable on this day, for he
+did not seem to resent Dumnoff's meditated attack upon the package, as he
+would certainly have done under ordinary circumstances.
+
+"If you are so very curious to know what it is, I will tell you," he said.
+"You know the Wiener Gigerl?"
+
+"Of course," answered both men together.
+
+"Well, that is it, in that parcel."
+
+"The Gigerl!" exclaimed the Cossack. Dumnoff only opened his small eyes in
+stupid amazement. Both knew something of the circumstances under which
+Fischelowitz had come into possession of the doll, and both knew what
+store the tobacconist set by it.
+
+"Then you have paid the fifty marks?" asked Schmidt, whose curiosity was
+roused instead of satisfied.
+
+"No. I shall pay the money to-morrow. I have promised to do so. As it
+chances, it will be convenient." The Count smiled to himself in a meaning
+way, as though already enjoying the triumph of laying the gold pieces upon
+the counter under Akulina's flat nose.
+
+"And yet Fischelowitz has already given it to you! He must be very sure of
+you--" With his usual lack of tact, Schmidt had gone further than he meant
+to do, but the transaction savoured of the marvellous.
+
+"To be strictly truthful," said the Count, who had a Quixotic fear of
+misleading in the smallest degree any one to whom he was speaking, "to be
+exactly honest, there is a circumstance which makes it less remarkable
+that Fischelowitz should have given me the doll at once."
+
+"Of course, of course!" exclaimed the Cossack, anxious to appear credulous
+out of kindness. "Fischelowitz knows as well as you do yourself how safe
+you are to get the money to-morrow."
+
+"Naturally," replied the Count, with great calmness. "But besides that,
+the Gigerl is broken--badly broken in the middle, and the musical box is
+spoiled too."
+
+"Fischelowitz must have been very angry," observed Dumnoff.
+
+"Not at all. It was his wife. Akulina knocked it from the counter into the
+farthest corner of the shop."
+
+"Tell us all about it," said Schmidt, more interested than ever.
+
+"Ah, that--that is quite another matter," answered the Count, reddening
+perceptibly as he remembered Akulina's furious abuse.
+
+"If you do not, I have no doubt that she will," said Dumnoff, taking
+another sip. "She always gives the news of you, before you come in the
+morning, before we have made our first hundred."
+
+The Count grew redder still, the angry colour mantling in his lean cheeks.
+He hesitated a moment, and then made up his mind.
+
+"If that is likely to happen," he cried, "I had better tell you the truth
+myself, instead of giving her an opportunity of distorting it."
+
+"Much better," said the Cossack, eagerly. "One can believe you better than
+her."
+
+"That is true, at all events," chimed in Dumnoff, who was only brutal and
+never malicious.
+
+"Well, it happened in this way. Fischelowitz and I were talking of
+to-morrow, I think, when she came in from the back shop, having overheard
+something we had been saying. Of course she immediately took advantage of
+my presence to exercise her wit upon me, a proceeding to which I have
+grown accustomed, seeing that she is only a woman. Then Fischelowitz told
+her to choose her language, and that started her afresh. It was rather a
+fine specimen of chosen language that she gave us, for she has a good
+command of our beautiful mother-tongue. She found very strong words, and
+she said among other things that it was my fault that her husband had got
+a Wiener Gigerl for fifty marks of good money. And then Fischelowitz, in
+his easy way and while she was talking, wound the doll up and set it
+before him on the counter and smiled at it. But she went on, worse than
+before, and called me everything under the sun. Of course I could do
+nothing but wait until she had finished, for I could not beat her, and I
+would not let her think that she could drive me away by mere talk, bad as
+it was."
+
+"What did she call you?" asked Dumnoff, with a grin.
+
+"She called me a good-for-nothing," said the Count, reddening with anger
+again, so that the veins stood out on his throat above his collar. "And
+she called me, I think, an adventurer."
+
+"Is that all?" laughed Dumnoff. "I have been called by worse names than
+that in my time!"
+
+"I have not," answered the Count, with sudden coolness. "However, between
+me and Fischelowitz and the Gigerl, she grew so angry that she struck the
+only one of us three against whom she dared lift hand. That member of the
+company chanced to be the unfortunate doll. And then I promised that
+to-morrow I would pay the money, and I made Fischelowitz give it to me in
+a piece of newspaper, and there it is."
+
+"What a terrible smash there must have been in the shop!" said Dumnoff. "I
+would like to have seen the lady's face."
+
+In their Russian speech, the difference between the original social
+standing of the three men who now worked as equals, was well defined by
+their way of speaking of Fischelowitz's wife. To Dumnoff, mujik by origin
+and by nature, she was "barina," the town "lady," to the Cossack she was
+"chosjaika," the "mistress," the wife of the "patron"--to the Count she
+was Akulina, and when he addressed her he called her Akulina Feodorovna,
+adding the derivative of her father's name in accordance with the
+universal Russian custom.
+
+"Let us see the doll," said Schmidt, still curious. The Count, whose
+eating had been interrupted by the telling of his story, pushed the parcel
+towards the Cossack with one hand, while using his fork with the other.
+
+Johann Schmidt carefully unwrapped the newspaper and exposed the
+unfortunate Gigerl to view. Then with both hands he set it up before him,
+raising the limp figure from the waist, and trying to put it into
+position, until it almost recovered something of its old look of
+insolence, though the eye-glass was broken and the little white hat sadly
+battered. The three men contemplated it in silence, and the other guests
+turned curious glances towards it. Dumnoff, as usual, laughed hoarsely.
+
+"Rather the worse for wear," he observed.
+
+"Kreuzmillionendonnerwetter! That is my Gigerl!" roared a deep German
+voice across the room.
+
+The three Russians started and looked round quickly. One of the porters, a
+burly man with an angry scowl on his honest face, was already on his legs
+and was striding towards the table.
+
+"That is my Gigerl!" he repeated, laying one heavy hand upon the board,
+and thrusting the forefinger of the other under the doll's nose.
+
+Dumnoff stared at him with an expression which showed that he did not in
+the least understand what was happening. Johann Schmidt's keen black eyes
+looked wonderingly from the porter to the Count, while the latter leaned
+back in his chair, contemplating the angry man with a calm surprise which
+proved how little faith he placed in the assertion of possession.
+
+"You are under a mistake," he said, with great politeness. "This doll is
+the property of Herr Fischelowitz, the well-known tobacconist, and has
+stood in the window of his shop nearly four months. These gentlemen"--he
+waved his hand towards his two companions--"are well aware of the fact and
+can vouch--"
+
+"That is all the same to me," interrupted the porter. "This is the Gigerl
+which was stolen from me on New Year's eve--"
+
+"I repeat," said the Count, with dignity, "that you are altogether
+mistaken. I will trouble you to leave us in peace and to make no more
+disturbance, where you are evidently in error."
+
+His coolness exasperated the porter, who seemed very sure of what he
+asserted.
+
+"That is what we shall see," he retorted in a menacing tone. "Meanwhile it
+does not occur to me to leave you in peace and to make no more trouble. I
+tell you that this Gigerl was stolen from me on New Year's eve. I know it
+well enough, for I had to pay for it."
+
+"How can you prove that this is the one?" inquired the Cossack, who was
+beginning to lose his temper.
+
+"You have nothing to say about it," said the porter, sharply. "I have to
+do with this man"--he pointed down at the Count--"who has brought the doll
+here, and pretends to know where it comes from."
+
+"Kerl!" exclaimed the Count, angrily. "Fellow! I am not accustomed to
+being called 'man,' or to having my word doubted. You had better be
+civil."
+
+"Then it is high time that you grew used to it," returned the porter,
+growing more and more excited. "The police do not overwhelm fellows of
+your kind with politeness."
+
+"Fellows?" cried the Count, losing his self-control altogether at being
+called by the name he had just applied to the porter. Without a moment's
+hesitation, he sprang from his chair, upsetting it behind him, and took
+the burly German by the throat.
+
+"Call a policeman, Anton!" shouted the latter to one of his companions, as
+he closed with his antagonist.
+
+The two other porters had risen from their places as soon as the Count had
+laid his hands on their friend, and the one who answered to the name of
+Anton promptly trotted towards the door, his heavy tread making the whole
+room shake as he ran. The other came up quickly and attacked the Count
+from behind, when Dumnoff, aroused at last to the pleasant consciousness
+that a real fight was going on, brought down his clenched fist with such
+earnestness of purpose on the top of the second porter's crown that the
+latter reeled backwards and fell across the Count's chair in an attitude
+rendered highly uncomfortable by the fact that the said chair had been
+turned upside down at the beginning of the contest. Having satisfied
+himself that the blow had taken effect, Dumnoff proceeded to the other
+side of the field of battle, avoiding the quickly moving bodies of the
+Count and the porter as they wrestled with each other, and the mujik
+prepared to deal another sledge-hammer blow, in all respects comparable
+with the first. A pleasant smile beamed and spread over his broad, bony
+face as he lifted his fist, and it is comparatively certain that he would
+have put an effectual end to the struggle, had not Schmidt interfered with
+the execution of his amiable intentions by catching his arm in mid-air.
+Even the Cossack's wiry strength could not arrest the descent of the
+tremendous fist, but he succeeded at least in diverting it from its aim,
+so that it took effect in the middle of the porter's back, knocking most
+of the wind out of the man's body and causing a diversion favourable to
+the Count's security. Schmidt sprang in and separated the combatants.
+
+"There has been enough dancing already," he said, coolly, as he faced the
+porter, who was gasping for breath. "But if you have not danced enough, I
+shall be happy to take a turn with you round the room."
+
+The poor Count would, indeed, have been no match for his adversary without
+the assistance of his friends. He possessed that sort of courage which,
+when stung into activity by an insult, takes no account whatever of the
+consequences, and his thin frame was animated by very excitable nerves.
+But an exceedingly lean diet, and the habit of sitting during many hours
+in a close atmosphere, rolling tobacco with his fingers, did not
+constitute such a physical training as to make him a match for a rough
+fellow whose occupation consisted in tramping long distances and up and
+down long flights of stairs from morning till night, loaded with more or
+less heavy burdens. He was now very pale and his heart beat painfully as
+he endeavoured instinctively to smooth his long frock-coat, from which a
+button had been torn out by the roots in a very apparent place, and to
+settle his starched collar, which at the best of times owed its stability
+to the secret virtues of a pin, and which at present had made a quarter of
+a revolution upon itself, so that the stiffly-starched corners, the
+Count's chief coquetry and pride, had established themselves in an
+unseemly manner immediately below the left ear.
+
+Meanwhile, the little restaurant was in an uproar. The host, a thin, pale
+man in an apron and a shabby embroidered cap, had suddenly appeared from
+the depths of the taproom, accompanied by his wife, a monstrous, red-faced
+creature clothed in a grey flannel frock. The porter whom Dumnoff had
+felled, and who was not altogether stunned, was kicking violently in the
+attempt to gain his feet among the fallen chairs, a dozen people had come
+in from the street at the noise of the fight and stood near the door,
+phlegmatically watching the proceedings, and the poor old woman from the
+country, who had been supping in the corner, had got her basket on her
+knees, holding its handle tightly in one hand and with the other grasping
+her half-finished glass of beer, in terror lest some accident should cause
+the precious liquid to be spilled, but not calm enough to put it in a
+place of safety by the simple process of swallowing.
+
+"They are foreigners," remarked some one in the crowd at the door.
+
+"They are probably Bohemian journeymen," said a tinman who stood in front
+of the others. "It serves them right for interfering with an honest
+porter." The Bohemian journeymen are detested in Munich on account of
+their willingness to work for low prices, which perhaps accounted for the
+tinman's readiness to consider the strangers as worsted in the contest.
+
+"We Germans fear God, and nothing else in the world," observed a
+mealy-faced shoemaker, quoting Prince Bismarck's famous speech.
+
+The man who had wrestled with the Count seemed to have resigned himself to
+the course of awaiting the police, and leaned back against the table
+behind him, with folded arms, glaring at the Cossack, while the Count was
+vainly attempting to recover possession of the pin which had fastened his
+collar, and which he evidently suspected of having slipped down his back,
+with the total depravity peculiar to all inanimate things when they are
+most needed. But the second porter, having broken the chair, upset a table
+covered with unused saucers for beer glasses, and otherwise materially
+contributing to swell the din and increase the already considerable havoc,
+had regained his feet and lost no time in making for Dumnoff. The Russian,
+enchanted at the prospect of a renewal of hostilities so unfortunately
+interrupted, met the newcomer half-way, and, each embracing the other with
+cheerful alacrity, the two heavy men began to stamp and turn round and
+round with each other like a couple of particularly awkward bears
+attempting to waltz together. They were very evenly matched for a
+wrestling bout, for although the German was by a couple of inches the
+taller of the two, the Russian had the advantage in breadth of shoulder
+and length of arm, as well as in the enormous strength of his back. The
+Cossack, having assured himself that there was to be fair-play, watched
+the proceedings with evident interest, while the pale-faced host shambled
+round and round the room, imploring the combatants to respect the
+reputation of his house and to desist, while keeping himself at a safe
+distance from possible collision with the bodies of the two, as they
+staggered and strained, and reeled and whirled about.
+
+The Count at last abandoned the search of the lost pin, and having pulled
+the front of his collar into a more normal position trusted to luck to
+keep it there. The table at which the three had originally sat had
+miraculously escaped upsetting, and on it lay the poor Gigerl, stretched
+at full length on its back, calm and smiling in the midst of the noise and
+confusion, like the corpse at an Irish wake after the whisky has begun to
+take effect.
+
+The Count now thought it necessary to justify the unfortunate situation in
+which he found himself, in the judgment of the spectators.
+
+"Gentlemen," he began, very earnestly and with a dignified gesture, "I
+feel it necessary to explain the truth of this--" But he was interrupted
+by the arrival of a policeman, who pushed his way through the crowd.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+"What is this row?" inquired the policeman in his official voice, as he
+marched into the room.
+
+The man who was wrestling with Dumnoff was a German and a soldier. At the
+authoritative words he relaxed his hold and made an effort to free
+himself, a movement of which the Russian instantly took advantage by
+throwing his adversary heavily, upsetting another table and thereby
+bringing the confusion to its crisis. How far he would have gone if he had
+been left to himself is uncertain, for the sudden appearance of two more
+men in green coats, helmets and gold collars so emboldened the spectators
+of the fight that they advanced in a body just as Dumnoff threw himself
+upon the first policeman. The Russian's red face was wet with
+perspiration, his small eyes were gleaming ferociously and his thick hair
+hung in tangled locks over his forehead, producing with his fair beard the
+appearance of a wild animal's mane. But for the timely assistance of his
+colleagues, the representatives of the law, and, most likely the majority
+of the spectators would have found themselves in the street in an
+exceedingly short space of time. But Dumnoff yielded to the inevitable; a
+couple of well-planted blows delivered by the rescuing party on the sides
+of his thick skull made him shake his head as a cat does when its nose is
+sprinkled with water, and the mujik reluctantly relinquished the struggle.
+At the same time the porter who had claimed the doll came forward and
+touched his bare head with a military salute.
+
+"What is your name?" asked the first policeman, anxious to get to
+business.
+
+"Jacob Goggelmann, Dienstmann number 87, formerly private in the Fourth
+Artillery, lately messenger in the Thueringer Doll Manufactory."
+
+"Very good," said the policeman, anxious to take the side of his
+countryman from the first, and certainly justified in doing so by the
+circumstances. "And what is your complaint?"
+
+"That doll, there, on the table," said the porter, "was stolen from me on
+New Year's eve, and now that man"--he pointed to the Count, who stood
+stiffly looking on--"that man has got possession of it."
+
+"And who stole it from you?" inquired the policeman with that acuteness in
+the art of cross-examination for which the police are in all countries so
+justly famous.
+
+"Ja, Herr Wachtmeister, if I had known that--" suggested the porter.
+
+"Of course, of course," interrupted the other. "That man stole the doll
+from you, you say?"
+
+"Somebody stole it with my basket, as I stopped to drink a measure in the
+yard of the Hofbraeuhaus, and I had to pay for it out of my caution money,
+and I lost my place into the bargain, and there lies the accursed thing."
+
+The policeman, apparently quite satisfied with the porter's story, turned
+upon the Count with a blustering and overbearing manner.
+
+"Now, then," he said, roughly, "give an account of yourself. Who are you
+and what are you doing here? But that is a foolish question; I know
+already that you are a Bohemian and a journeyman tinker."
+
+"A Bohemian? And a journeyman tinker?" repeated the Count, almost
+speechless with anger for a moment. "I am neither," he added, endeavouring
+to control himself, and settling his refractory collar with one hand. "I
+am a Russian gentleman."
+
+"A gentleman--and a Russian," said the policeman, slowly, as though
+putting no faith in the first statement and very little in the second. "I
+think I can provide you with a lodging for the night," he added,
+facetiously.
+
+"Slip past me, jump out of the window and run!" whispered the Cossack in
+the Count's ear, in Russian.
+
+"What are you saying in your infernal language?" asked the official.
+
+"My friend advised me to run away," said the Count, coolly sitting down,
+as though he were master of the situation. "Unfortunately for me, I was
+not taught to use my legs in that way when I was a boy."
+
+"I was," said the Cossack. "Good-evening, Master Policeman." He took his
+hat from the peg on the wall where it had hung undisturbed throughout the
+confusion, and bowing gravely to the man in uniform made as though he
+would go out of the room.
+
+"So, so, not quite so fast, my friend," said the policeman, putting
+himself in the way. "Heigh! heigh! Stop him! Don't let him go," he bawled,
+a second later.
+
+Schmidt had paused a minute, watching his opportunity, then, taking a
+quick step backwards, he had vaulted through the open window with the
+agility of a cat, and was flying down the empty street at the speed only
+attainable by that deceptive domestic animal when pressed for time and
+anxious for its own safety.
+
+"Sobaka!" growled Domnoff, disgusted at his companion's defection.
+
+"Either talk in a language that human beings can understand, or do not
+talk at all," said one of the two men who guarded him.
+
+Seeing that pursuit was useless, the spokesman of the police turned to the
+Count, twice as blustering and terrible as before.
+
+"This settles the question," he said. "To the police station you go, you
+and your bear-man of an accomplice. Potzbombardendonnerwetter! You
+Sappermentskerls! I will teach you to resist the police, to steal dolls
+and to jump out of windows! Now then, right about face--march!"
+
+The Count did not stir from his chair. Dumnoff looked at him as though to
+ask instructions of a superior.
+
+"If you can manage one of them, I can take these two," he said in Russian.
+Suiting the action to the word, he suddenly bent down, slipped his arms
+round the legs of the two policemen, hurled them simultaneously head over
+heels and then charged the crowd, head downwards, upsetting every one who
+came in his way, and bursting into the street by sheer superior weight and
+impetus. An instant later, his shock head appeared at the window through
+which the Cossack had escaped.
+
+"Come along!" he shouted to the Count, in his own language. "I have locked
+the street door and they cannot get out. Jump through the window."
+
+"Go, my friend," answered the Count, calmly. "I will not run away."
+
+"You had much better come," insisted Dumnoff, apparently indifferent to
+the noise of the crowd as it tried to force open the closed door, and
+shaking off two or three men who had made their way out into the street
+with him. He held the key in one hand, and his assailants had small chance
+of getting it away.
+
+"You will not come?" he repeated. But the Count shook his head, within the
+room.
+
+"Then I will not run away either," said Dumnoff, the good side of his dull
+nature showing itself at last. With the utmost indifference to
+consequences he returned to the door, unlocked it, and strode through the
+midst of the people, who made way readily enough before him, after their
+late painful experience of his manner of making way for himself.
+
+"I have changed my mind," he said, in German, quietly placing himself
+between his late keepers, who were alternately rubbing themselves and
+brushing the dust off each other's clothes after their tumble.
+
+In the astonished silence which succeeded Dumnoff's return, the Count's
+voice was heard again.
+
+"I am both anxious and ready to explain everything, if you will do me the
+civility to listen," he said. "The doll is the property of Herr
+Fischelowitz, the well-known tobacconist--"
+
+"We shall see presently what you have to say for yourself," interrupted
+the policeman. "We have had enough of these devilish fellows. Come, put
+them in handcuffs and off with them. And you three gentlemen," he added,
+turning to the three porters, "will have the goodness to accompany us to
+the station, in order to give your evidence."
+
+"But my furniture and my beer saucers!" exclaimed the pallid host,
+suddenly remembering his losses. "Who is to pay for them?"
+
+The Count answered the question for him.
+
+"You, Master Host, who know us and have had our regular custom for years,
+but who have not dared to say a word in our defence throughout this
+disgraceful affair, you, I say, deserve to lose all that you have lost.
+Nevertheless, I can assure you that I will myself pay for what has been
+broken."
+
+The host was not much consoled by this magnanimous promise, which was
+received with jeers by the crowd. There was no time, however, to discuss
+the question. Dumnoff had quietly submitted his two huge fists to the
+handcuffs and a second pair was produced, to fit the Count. At this
+indignity he drew himself up proudly.
+
+"Have I resisted the authority, or attempted to run away?" he inquired
+with flashing eyes.
+
+The policeman had nothing to say to this very just question.
+
+"Then I advise you to consider what you are doing. In spite of my
+appearance, which, I admit, is at present somewhat disorderly, I am a
+Russian nobleman, as you will discover so soon as I am submitted to a
+properly conducted examination in the presence of your officers. I have
+not the least intention of running away, and if this doll was stolen, I
+was not connected in any way with the theft. Since I respect the
+authorities, I insist upon being respected by them, and if I am treated in
+a degrading manner in spite of my protests, there are those in Munich who
+will bring the case to proper notice in my own country. I am ready to
+accompany you quietly wherever you choose to show me the way."
+
+Something in his manner impressed the officials with the possible truth of
+his words. They looked at each other and nodded.
+
+"Very well," said the one who was conducting the arrest.
+
+"Moreover," said the Count, "I crave permission to carry myself the object
+of contention, until the other claimant has established his right of
+possession."
+
+So saying the Count took the broken Gigerl from the table where it lay,
+and carrying it upon his hands before him, like a baby, he solemnly walked
+in the direction of the door, thus heading the procession, which was
+accompanied into the street by the idlers who had collected inside.
+
+"God be thanked," said the old woman in the corner devoutly, "I have yet
+my beer!"
+
+"And to think that only one of them has paid for his supper," moaned the
+pale-faced innkeeper, sitting down upon a chair and contemplating the
+wreck of his belongings with a haggard eye. The "Gigerl-night" was
+remembered for many a long year in the "Green Wreath Inn."
+
+At the police station the arresting party told their own story in their
+own way, very much to the disadvantage of the Russians and very much in
+favour of the porters and of the officials themselves. The latter, indeed,
+enlarged so much upon the atrocities perpetrated by Dumnoff as to weary
+the superior officer. The Cossack having escaped, the policemen did not
+mention him. The officer glanced at Dumnoff.
+
+"Your name?" he inquired.
+
+"Victor Ivanowitch Dumnoff."
+
+"Occupation?"
+
+"Cigarette-maker in the manufactory of Christian Fischelowitz."
+
+"Lock him up," said the officer. "Resisting the police in the execution of
+an arrest," he added, speaking to the scribe at his elbow.
+
+"Your name?" continued he, addressing the Count. "Boris Michaelovitch,
+Count Skariatine."
+
+"Count?" repeated the officer. "We shall see. Occupation?"
+
+"I have been occupied in the manufacture of cigarettes," answered the
+Count. "But as I was only engaged in this during a period of temporary
+embarrassment from which I shall be relieved to-morrow, I may be described
+as having no particular occupation."
+
+The officer stared incredulously for a moment and then nodded to the
+scribe in token that he was to write down what was said.
+
+"Charged with having stolen a doll, is that it?" He turned to the
+policeman in charge.
+
+"Jawohl, Herr Hauptmann."
+
+"May it please you, Herr Hauptmann, I did not say that," put in the
+porter, coming forward.
+
+"Who are you?"
+
+"The man from whom the doll was stolen. Jacob Goggelmann, Dienstmann
+number 87, formerly private in the Fourth Artillery, lately messenger in
+the Thueringer Doll Manufactory."
+
+"When was the doll stolen?"
+
+"Last New Year's eve," answered the porter.
+
+"And you have not seen it until to-day?"
+
+"No, Herr Hauptmann."
+
+"Then how do you know it is the same one? I suppose it is not the only
+doll of its kind in Munich."
+
+"I am sure of it. I was a messenger in the shop, Herr Hauptmann, and I
+knew everything there, just as though I had been one of the young ladies
+who serve the customers. Besides, you will find my name written in pencil
+under the pedestal."
+
+"That is another matter," said the officer, taking the Gigerl and holding
+it upside down to the gaslight. The reversing of the thing's natural
+position produced some mysterious effect upon the musical box, and the
+tune which had been so rudely interrupted by Akulina's well-aimed blow,
+suddenly began again from the point at which it had stopped, continuing
+for a few bars and then coming to an end with a sharp twang and a little
+click. The policemen tittered audibly, and even the captain smiled faintly
+in his big yellow beard. Then he knit his brows as he deciphered something
+which was written on the pinewood under the base.
+
+"You should have said so at once," he observed. "Your name is there, as
+you assert."
+
+"It was written to show that I was to take it. I had it in a basket with
+other things. I put it down a moment in the yard of the Hofbraeuhaus, and
+when I came back the basket was gone."
+
+"And what do you know about it?" The question was addressed to the Count.
+
+"Seeing that the porter is evidently right," said the Count, covering with
+his hat the point from which the button had been torn, and holding the
+other hand rather nervously to his throat, as though trying to keep
+himself from falling to pieces, "I have nothing more to say. I will not be
+accused of inculpating any one in this disastrous affair. I will only say
+that the doll has stood since early in the year in the show window of
+Christian Fischelowitz, the tobacconist, who certainly had no knowledge of
+the way in which it was obtained by the person who brought it to him."
+
+"He is an extremely respectable person," observed the officer. "If you can
+prove what you say, I will not detain you further. Have you any witness
+here?"
+
+"There is Herr Dumnoff," said the Count. The officer smiled and
+perpetrated an official jest.
+
+"Herr Dumnoff has given evidence of great strength, but owing to his
+peculiar situation at the present time, I cannot trust to the strength of
+his evidence."
+
+The policemen laughed respectfully.
+
+"Have you no one else?" asked the officer.
+
+"Herr Fischelowitz will willingly vouch for what I say."
+
+"At this hour, Herr Fischelowitz is doubtless asleep, and would certainly
+be justified in refusing to come here out of mere complaisance. I am
+afraid, Count Skariatine, that I must have the honour of being your host
+until morning."
+
+"It is impossible to describe our relative positions with greater
+courtesy," answered the Count, gravely, and not taking the least notice of
+the officer's ironical tone. The latter looked at the speaker curiously
+and then suddenly changed his manner. He was convinced that he was
+speaking with a gentleman.
+
+"I regret that I am obliged to put you to such inconvenience," he said,
+politely. "Treat the gentleman with every consideration," he added,
+addressing the policemen in a tone of authority, "and let me have no
+complaints of unnecessary rudeness either."
+
+"I thank you, Herr Hauptmann," said the Count, simply.
+
+Thus was the Count deprived of his liberty on the very eve of his return
+to all the brilliant advantages of wealth and social station. It was
+certainly a most unfortunate train of circumstances which had led him by
+such quick stages from his parting with Vjera to the wooden bench and the
+board pillow of the police-station. It looked as though the Gigerl were
+possessed of an evil spirit determined to work out the Count's
+destruction, as though the wretched adventurer who had first stolen it and
+palmed it off upon Fischelowitz had laid a curse upon it, whereby it was
+destined to breed dissension and strife wherever it remained and to the
+direct injury of whomsoever chanced to possess it for the time being. It
+had been the cause of serious disaster to the porter in the first
+instance, it had next represented to Fischelowitz a dead loss in money of
+fifty marks, it had become a thorn in the side to Akulina, it had led to
+one of the most violent quarrels she had ever engaged in with her husband,
+its limp and broken form had cost much broken crockery and some broken
+furniture to the host of the "Green Wreath Inn," had been the cause of
+several ponderous blows dealt and received by Dumnoff, had produced the
+violent fall, upon a hard board floor, of a porter and two policemen and
+had ultimately brought the Count to prison for the night. Its value had
+become very great, for it had been paid for twice over, once by the man
+from whom it had been stolen, by the forfeiture of his caution money, and
+once by Fischelowitz in the sum of fifty marks lent to an adventurer;
+furthermore, the Count had solemnly pledged his word as a gentleman to pay
+for it a third time on the morrow, he having in his worldly possession the
+sum of one silver mark and two German pennies at the time of entering into
+the engagement. The actual sum of money paid and promised to be paid on
+the body of the now ruined Gigerl, now amounted, with interest, to more
+than four times its original value, thus constituting one of those
+interesting problems in real and comparative value so interesting to the
+ingenuous political economist, who believes that all value can be traced
+to supply and demand. Now, although the Gigerl was but a single doll, the
+supply of him, so to speak, had been surprisingly abundant, and the
+demand, if represented by the desire of any one person concerned to
+possess him, may be represented by the smallest of zeros. The
+consideration of so intricate a question belongs neither to the inventor
+of fiction nor to the historian of facts, and may therefore be abandoned
+to the political economist, who may, perhaps, be said to partake of the
+nature of both while possessing the virtues of neither.
+
+The Count was in prison, therefore, on the eve of his return to splendour,
+and his companion in captivity was Dumnoff the mujik. They found
+themselves in a well-ventilated room, having high grated windows, through
+which the stars were visible, and dimly lighted by a small gas flame which
+burned in a lantern of white ground glass. The place was abundantly, if
+not luxuriously, furnished with flat wooden pallets, each having at the
+head a slanting piece of board supposed to do duty for a pillow. Outside
+the open door a policeman paced the broad passage, a man taken from the
+mounted detachment and whose scabbard and spurs clattered and jingled,
+hour after hour, as he walked. The sound produced something half
+rhythmical, like a broken tune in search of itself, and the change of
+sentinels made no perceptible difference in the regular nature of the
+unceasing noise.
+
+Dumnoff, relieved of his handcuffs, stretched himself upon the pallet
+assigned to him, clasped his hands under the back of his head, and stared
+at the ceiling. The Count sat upon the edge of his board, crossing one
+knee over the other and looking at his nails, or trying to look at them in
+the insufficient light. In some distant part of the building a door was
+occasionally opened and shut, and the slight concussion sent long echoes
+down the stone passages. The Count sighed audibly.
+
+"It is not so bad, after all," remarked Dumnoff. "I did not expect to end
+the evening so comfortably."
+
+"It is bad enough," said the Count. He produced a crumpled piece of
+newspaper which contained a little tobacco, and rolled a cigarette
+thoughtfully. "It is bad enough," he repeated as he began to smoke.
+
+"It would have been very easy to get away, if you had done like that brute
+of a Schmidt who ran away and left us."
+
+"I do not think Schmidt is a brute," observed the other, blowing a huge
+ring of white smoke out into the dusk.
+
+"I did not think so either. But I had arranged it all very well for you to
+get away--only you would not. You see, by an accident, the key was outside
+the door, so I kicked the people back and locked it. It would have taken a
+quarter of an hour for them to open it, and if you had only jumped--"
+
+He turned his head, and glanced at the Count's spare, sinewy figure.
+
+"You are light, too," he continued, "and you could not have hurt yourself.
+I cannot understand why you stayed."
+
+"Dumnoff, my friend," said the Count, gravely, "we look at things in a
+different way. It is my duty to tell you that I think you behaved in the
+most honourable manner, under the circumstances, and I am deeply indebted
+to you for the gallant way in which you came back to stand by me, when you
+were yourself free. In a nobler warfare, such an action would have been
+rewarded with a cross of honour, as it truly deserved. It is true, as
+well, that you were not so intimately connected with the main question at
+stake, as I was, since it was I who was suspected of being in possession
+of unlawfully gotten goods. You were consequently, I think, at liberty to
+take your freedom if you could get it, without consulting your conscience
+further. Now my position was, and is, very different. I do not speak of
+any personal prejudice against the mere act of running away, considered as
+an immediate means of escape from disagreeable circumstances, with the
+hope of ultimate immunity from all unpleasant consequences. That is a
+matter of early education."
+
+"I had very little early education," observed Dumnoff. "And none at all
+afterwards."
+
+"My friend, it is not for you and me to enter into the history of our
+misfortunes. We have met in the vat of poverty to be seethed alike in the
+brew of unhappiness. We have sat at the same daily labour, we have shared
+often the same fare, but there is that in each of us which we can keep
+sacred from the contamination of confidence, and which will withstand even
+the thrusts of poverty. I mean our individual selves, the better part of
+us, the nobler element which has suffered, as distinguished from the
+grosser, which may yet enjoy. But I am wandering a little. I am afraid I
+sometimes do. I return to the point. For me to take advantage of your
+generous attempt to free me would have been to act as though I had a moral
+cause for flight. In other words, it would have been to acknowledge that I
+had committed some dishonourable action."
+
+"It seems to me that to get away would have been the best way out of it.
+They would not have caught you if you had trusted to me, and if they did
+not catch you they could not prove anything against you."
+
+"The suspicion would have remained, and the disgrace in my own eyes,"
+answered the Count. "The question of physical fear is very different. I
+have been told that it depends upon the nerves and the action of the
+heart, and that courage is greatly increased by the presence of
+nourishment in the stomach. The same cannot be said of moral bravery,
+which proceeds more from the fear of seeming contemptible in our own eyes
+than from the wish to seem honourable in the estimation of others."
+
+"I daresay," said Dumnoff, who was growing sleepy and who understood very
+little of his companion's homily.
+
+"Precisely," replied the latter. "And yet even the question of physical
+courage is very complicated in the present case. It cannot be said, for
+instance, that you ran away from physical fear, after giving proof of such
+astonishing physical superiority. Your deeds this evening make the labours
+of Hercules dwindle to the proportions of mere mountebank's tricks."
+
+"Was anybody badly injured?" asked Dumnoff, suddenly aroused by the
+pleasing recollections of the contest.
+
+"I believe not seriously; I think I saw everybody whom you upset get on
+his feet sooner or later."
+
+"Well," said Dumnoff with a sigh, "it cannot be helped. I did my best."
+
+"I should think that you would be glad," suggested the Count. "You showed
+your prowess without any fatal result."
+
+"Anything for a change in this dull life," grumbled the peasant with an
+air of dissatisfaction.
+
+"With such a prospect of immediate change before me, I suppose I ought not
+to blame your longing for excitement. Nevertheless I consider it fortunate
+that nothing worse happened."
+
+"You might take me with you to Russia," said Dumnoff, with a short laugh.
+"That would be an excitement, at least."
+
+"After the way in which you have stood by me this evening, I will not
+refuse you anything. If you wish it, I will take you with me. I take it
+for granted that you are not prevented by any especial reason from
+entering our country."
+
+"Not that I am aware of," laughed Dumnoff. "Do you know how I got to
+Germany? A gentleman from our part of the country brought me with him as
+coachman. One day the horses ran away in Baden-Baden, and he turned me out
+of the house."
+
+"That was very inconsiderate of him," observed the Count.
+
+"It is true that both the horses were killed," said Dumnoff, thoughtfully.
+"And the prince broke his arm, and the carriage was in good condition for
+firewood, and possibly I was a little gay--just a little--though I was so
+much upset by the accident that I could not remember exactly what happened
+before. Still--"
+
+"Your conduct on that particular day seems to have left much to be
+desired," remarked the Count with some austerity.
+
+"It has been my bad luck to be in a great many accidents," said the other.
+"But that one was remarkable. As far as I can recollect, we drove into the
+Grand Duke's four-in-hand on one side and drove out of it on the other. I
+never drove through a Grand Duke's equipage on any other occasion. It was
+lucky that his Serenity did not happen to be in it just at the time. There
+you have my history in a nutshell. As you say you will take me with you, I
+thought you ought to know."
+
+"Certainly, certainly," answered the Count, vaguely. "I will take you with
+me--but not as coachman, I think, Dumnoff. We may find some more
+favourable sphere for your great physical strength."
+
+"Anything you like. It is a good joke to dream of such a journey, is it
+not? Especially when one is locked up for the night in the
+police-station."
+
+"It is certainly a relief to contemplate the prospect of such a change
+to-morrow," said the Count, his expression brightening in the gloom.
+
+For a few moments there was silence between the two men. Dumnoff's small
+eyes fixed themselves on the shadowy outlines of his companion's face, as
+though trying to solve a problem far too complicated for his dull
+intellect.
+
+"I wonder whether you are really mad," he said slowly, after a prolonged
+mental effort.
+
+The Count started slightly and stared at the ex-coachman with a frightened
+look.
+
+"Mad?" he repeated, nervously. "Who says I am mad? Why do you ask the
+question?"
+
+"Most people say so," replied the other, evidently without any intention
+of giving pain. "Everybody who works with us thinks so."
+
+"Everybody? Everybody? I think you are dreaming, Dumnoff. What do you
+mean?"
+
+"I mean that they think so because you have those queer fits of believing
+yourself a rich count every week, from Tuesday night till Thursday
+morning. Schmidt was saying only yesterday to poor Vjera--"
+
+"Vjera? Does she believe it too?" asked the Count in an unsteady voice,
+not heeding the rest of the speech.
+
+"Of course," said Dumnoff, carelessly. "Schmidt was saying to me only
+yesterday that you were going to have a worse attack of it than usual
+because you were so silent."
+
+"Vjera, too!" repeated the Count in a low voice. "And no one ever told
+me--" He passed his hand over his eyes.
+
+"Tell me"--Dumnoff began in the tone of jocular familiarity which he
+considered confidential--"tell me--the whole thing is just a joke of yours
+to amuse us all, is it not? You do not really believe that you are a
+count, any more than I really believe that you are mad, you know. You do
+not act like a madman, except when you let the police catch you and lock
+you up for the night, instead of running away like a sensible man."
+
+The Count's face grew bright again all at once. In the present state of
+his hopes no form of doubt seemed able to take a permanent hold of him.
+
+"No, I am not mad," he said. "But on the other hand, Dumnoff, it is my
+conviction that you are exceedingly drunk. No other hypothesis can account
+for your very singular remarks about me."
+
+"Oh, I am drunk, am I?" laughed the peasant. "It is very likely, and in
+that case I had better go to sleep. Good-night, and do not forget that you
+are to take me with you to Russia."
+
+"I will not forget," said the Count.
+
+Dumnoff stretched his heavy limbs on the wooden pallet, rolled his great
+head once or twice from side to side until his fur-like hair made
+something like a cushion and then, in the course of three minutes, fell
+fast asleep.
+
+The Count sat upright in his place, drumming with his fingers upon one
+knee.
+
+"It is a wonder that I am not mad," he said to himself. "But Vjera never
+thought it of me--and that fellow is evidently the worse for liquor."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+Johann Schmidt had not fled from the scene of action out of any
+consideration for his personal safety. He was, indeed, a braver man than
+Dumnoff, in proportion as he was more intelligent, and though of a very
+different temper, by no means averse to a fight if it came into his way.
+He had foreseen what was sure to happen, and had realised sooner than any
+one else that the only person who could set everything straight was
+Fischelowitz himself. So soon as he was clear of pursuit, therefore, he
+turned in the direction of the tobacconist's dwelling, walking as quickly
+as he could where there were many people and running at the top of his
+speed through such empty by-streets as lay in the direct line of his
+course. He rushed up the three flights of steps and rang sharply at the
+door.
+
+Akulina's unmistakable step was heard in the passage a moment later.
+Schmidt would have preferred that Fischelowitz should have come himself,
+though he managed to live on very good terms with Akulina. Though far from
+tactful he guessed that in a matter concerning the Count, the tobacconist
+would prove more obliging than his wife.
+
+"What is the matter?" inquired the mistress of the house, opening the door
+wide after she had recognised the Cossack in the feeble light of the
+staircase, by looking through the little hole in the panel.
+
+"Good-evening, Frau Fischelowitz," said Schmidt, trying to appear as calm
+and collected as possible. "I would like to speak to your husband upon a
+little matter of business."
+
+"He is not at home yet. I left him in the shop."
+
+Almost before the words were out of her mouth, Schmidt had turned and was
+running down the stairs, two at a time. Akulina called him back.
+
+"Wait a minute!" she cried, advancing to the hand-rail on the landing.
+"What in the world are you in such a hurry about?"
+
+"Oh--nothing--nothing especial," answered the man, suddenly stopping and
+looking up.
+
+Akulina set her fat hands on her hips and held her head a little on one
+side. She had plenty of curiosity in her composition.
+
+"Well, I must say," she observed, "for a man who is not in a hurry about
+anything, you are uncommonly brisk with your feet. If it is only a matter
+of business, I daresay I will do as well as my husband."
+
+"Oh, I daresay," admitted Schmidt, scratching his head. "But this is
+rather a personal matter of business, you see."
+
+"And you mean that you want some money, I suppose," suggested Akulina, at
+a venture.
+
+"No, no, not at all--no money at all. It is not a question of money." He
+hoped to satisfy her by a statement which was never without charm in her
+ears. But Akulina was not satisfied; on the contrary, she began to suspect
+that something serious might be the matter, for she could see Schmidt's
+face better now, as he looked up to her, facing the gaslight that burned
+above her own head. Having been violently angry not more than an hour or
+two earlier, her nerves were not altogether calmed, and the memory of the
+scene in the shop was still vividly present. There was no knowing what the
+Count might not have done, in retaliation for the verbal injuries she had
+heaped upon him, and her quick instinct connected Schmidt's unusually
+anxious appearance and evident haste to be off, with some new event in
+which the Count had played a part.
+
+"Have you seen the Count?" she inquired, just as Schmidt was beginning to
+move again.
+
+"Yes," answered the latter, trying to assume a doubtful tone of voice. "I
+believe--in fact, I did see him--for a moment--"
+
+Akulina smiled to herself, proud of her own acuteness.
+
+"I thought so," she said. "And he has made some trouble about that
+wretched doll--"
+
+"How did you guess that?" asked Schmidt, turning and ascending a few
+steps. He was very much astonished.
+
+"Oh, I know many things--many interesting things. And now you want to warn
+my husband of what the Count has done, do you not? It must be something
+serious, since you are in such a hurry. Come in, Herr Schmidt, and have a
+glass of tea. Fischelowitz will be at home in a few minutes, and you see I
+have guessed half your story, so you may as well tell me the other half
+and be done with it. It is of no use for you to go to the shop after him.
+He has shut up by this time, and you cannot tell which way he will come
+home, can you? Much better come in and have a glass of tea. The samovar is
+lighted and everything is ready, so that you need not stay long."
+
+Schmidt lingered doubtfully a moment on the stairs. The closing hour was
+certainly past in early-closing Munich, and he might miss the tobacconist
+in the street. It seemed wiser to wait for him in his house, and so the
+Cossack reluctantly accepted the invitation, which, under ordinary
+circumstances, he would have regarded as a great honour. Akulina ushered
+him into the little sitting-room and prepared him a large glass of tea
+with a slice of lemon in it. She filled another for herself and sat down
+opposite to him at the table.
+
+"The poor Count!" she exclaimed. "He is sure to get himself into trouble
+some day. I suppose people cannot help behaving oddly when they are mad,
+poor things. And the Count is certainly mad, Herr Schmidt."
+
+"Quite mad, poor man. He has had one of his worst attacks to-day."
+
+"Yes," assented the wily Akulina, "and if you could have seen him and
+heard him in the shop this evening--" She held up her hands and shook her
+head.
+
+"What did he do and say?"
+
+"Oh, such things, such things! Poor man, of course I am very sorry for
+him, and I am glad that my husband finds room to employ him, and keep him
+from starving. But really, this evening he quite made me lose my temper. I
+am afraid I was a little rough, considering that he is sensitive. But to
+hear the man talk about his money, and his titles, and his dignities, when
+he is only just able to keep body and soul together! It is enough to
+irritate the seven archangels, Herr Schmidt, indeed it is! And then at the
+same time there was that dreadful Gigerl, and my head was splitting--I am
+sure there will be a thunder-storm to-night--altogether, I could not bear
+it any longer, and I actually upset the Gigerl out of anger, and it rolled
+to the floor and was broken. Of course it is very foolish to lose one's
+temper in that way, but after all, I am only a weak woman, and I confess
+it was a relief to me when I saw the poor Count take the thing away. I
+hope I did not really hurt his feelings, for he is an excellent workman,
+in spite of his madness. What did he say, Herr Schmidt? I would so like to
+know how he took it. Of course he was very angry. Poor man, so mad, so
+completely mad on that one point!"
+
+"To tell the truth," said Schmidt, who had listened attentively, "he did
+not like what you said to him at all."
+
+"Well, really, was it my fault, Herr Schmidt? I am only a woman, and I
+suppose I may be excused if I lose my temper once in a year or so. It is
+very wearing on the nerves. Every Tuesday evening begins the same old song
+about the fortune and letters, and the journey to Russia. One gets very
+tired of it in the long-run. At first it used to amuse me."
+
+"Do you think that Herr Fischelowitz can have gone anywhere else instead
+of coming home?" asked the Cossack, finishing the glass of tea, which he
+had swallowed burning hot out of sheer anxiety to get away.
+
+"Oh no, indeed," cried Akulina in a tone of the most sincere conviction.
+"He always tells me where he is going. You have no idea what a good
+husband he is, and what a good man--though I daresay you know that after
+being with us so many years. Now, I am sure that if he had the least idea
+that anything had happened to the poor Count, he would run all the way
+home in order to hear it as soon as possible."
+
+"No more tea, thank you, Frau Fischelowitz," said Schmidt, but she took
+his glass with a quiet smile and shredded a fresh piece of lemon into it
+and filled it up again, quite heedless of his protest. Schmidt resigned
+himself, and thanked her civilly.
+
+"Of course," she said, presently, as she busied herself with the
+arrangements of the samovar, "of course it is nothing so very serious, is
+it? I daresay the Count has told you that he would not work any more for
+us, and you are anxious to arrange the matter? In that case, you need have
+no fear. I am always ready to forgive and forget, as they say, though I am
+only a weak woman."
+
+"That is very kind of you," observed Schmidt, with a glitter in his eyes
+which Akulina did not observe.
+
+"I guessed the truth, did I not?"
+
+"Not exactly. The trouble is rather more serious than that. The fact is,
+as we were at supper, a man at another table saw the Gigerl in our hands
+and swore that it had been stolen from him some months ago."
+
+"And what happened then?" asked Akulina with sudden interest.
+
+"I suppose you may as well know," said Schmidt, regretfully. "There was a
+row, and the man made a great deal of trouble and at last the police were
+called in, and I came to get Herr Fischelowitz himself to come and prove
+that the Gigerl was his. You see why I am in such a hurry."
+
+"Do you think they have arrested the Count?"
+
+"I imagine that every one concerned would be taken to the police-station."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"And then, unless the affair is cleared up, they will be kept there all
+night."
+
+"All night!" exclaimed Akulina, holding up her hands in real or affected
+horror. "Poor Count! He will be quite crazy, now, I fear--especially as
+this is Tuesday evening."
+
+"But he must be got out at once!" cried Schmidt in a tone of decision.
+"Herr Fischelowitz will surely not allow--"
+
+"No indeed! You have only to wait until he comes home, and then you can go
+together. Or better still, if he does not come back in a quarter of an
+hour, and if he has really shut up the shop as usual, you might look for
+him at the Cafe Luitpold, and if he is not there, it is just possible that
+he may have looked in at the Gaertner Platz Theatre, for which he often has
+free tickets, and if the performance is over--I fancy it is, by this
+time--he may be in the Cafe Maximilian, or he may have gone to drink a
+glass of beer in the Platzl, for he often goes there, and--well, if you do
+not find him in any of those places--"
+
+"But, good Heavens, Frau Fischelowitz, you said you were quite sure he was
+coming home at once! Now I have lost all this time!"
+
+Schmidt had risen quickly to his feet, in considerable anxiety and haste.
+Akulina smiled good-humouredly.
+
+"You see," she said, "it is just possible that to-night, as he was a
+little annoyed with me for being sharp with the Count, he may have gone
+somewhere without telling me. But I really could not foresee it, because
+he is such a very good--"
+
+"I know," interrupted the Cossack. "If I miss him, you will tell him, will
+you not? Thank you, and good-night, Frau Fischelowitz, I cannot afford to
+wait a moment longer."
+
+So saying Johann Schmidt made for the door and got out of the house this
+time without any attempt on the part of his amiable hostess to detain him
+further. She had indeed omitted to tell him that her last speech was not
+merely founded on a supposition, since Fischelowitz had really been very
+much annoyed and had declared that he would not come home but would spend
+the evening with a friend of his who lived in the direction of Schwabing,
+one of the suburbs of Munich farthest removed from the places in which she
+advised Schmidt to make search.
+
+The stout housewife disliked and even detested the Count for many reasons
+all good in her own eyes, among which the chief one was that she did
+dislike him. She felt for him one of those strong and invincible
+antipathies which trivial and cunning natures often feel for very
+honourable and simple ones. To the latter the Count belonged, and Akulina
+was a fine specimen of the former. If the Count had been literally
+starving and clothed in rags, he would have been incapable of a mean
+thought or of a dishonest action. Whatever his origin had been, he had
+that, at least, of a nobility undeniable in itself. That his character was
+simple in reality, may as yet seem less evident. He was regarded as mad,
+as has been seen, but his madness was methodical and did not overstep
+certain very narrow bounds. Beyond those limits within which others, at
+least, did not consider him responsible, his chief idea seemed to be to
+gain his living quietly, owing no man anything, nor refusing anything to
+any man who asked it. This last characteristic, more than any other,
+seemed to prove the possibility of his having been brought up in wealth
+and with the free use of money, for his generosity was not that of the
+vulgar spendthrift who throws away his possessions upon himself quite as
+freely as upon his companions. He earned enough money at his work to live
+decently well, at least, and he spent but the smallest sum upon his own
+wants. Nevertheless he never had anything to spare for his own comfort,
+for he was as ready to give a beggar in the street the piece of silver
+which represented a good part of the value of his day's work as most rich
+people are to part with a penny. He never inquired the reason for the
+request of help, but to all who asked of him he gave what he had, gravely,
+without question, as a matter of course. If Dumnoff's pockets were empty
+and his throat dry, he went to the Count and got what he wanted. Dumnoff
+might be brutal, rude, coarse; it made no difference. The Count did not
+care to know where the money went nor when it would be returned, if ever.
+If Schmidt's wife--for he had a wife--was ill, the Count lent all he had,
+if the children's shoes were worn out, he lent again, and when Schmidt,
+who was himself extremely conscientious in his odd way, brought the money
+back, the Count generally gave it to the first poor person whom he met.
+Akulina supposed that this habit belonged to his madness. Others, who
+understood him better, counted it to him for righteousness, and even
+Dumnoff, the rough peasant, showed at times a friendly interest in him,
+which is not usually felt by the unpunctual borrower towards the
+uncomplaining lender.
+
+But Akulina could understand none of these things. She belongs by nature
+to the class of people whose first impulse on all occasions is to say:
+"Money is money." There can be no mutual attraction of intellectual
+sympathy between these, and those other persons who despise money in their
+hearts, and would rather not touch it with their hands. It has been seen
+also that the events connected with the Gigerl's first appearance in the
+shop had been of a nature to irritate Akulina still more. The dislike
+nourished in her stout bosom through long months and years now approached
+the completion of its development, and manifested itself as a form of
+active hatred. Akulina was delighted to learn that there was a prospect of
+the Count's spending the night in the police-station and she determined
+that Johann Schmidt should not find her husband before the next day, and
+that when the partner of her bliss returned--presumably pacified by the
+soothing converse of his friend--she would not disturb his peace of mind
+by any reference to the Count's adventures. It was therefore with small
+prospect of success that the Cossack began his search for Fischelowitz.
+
+Only a man who has sought anxiously for another, all through the late
+evening, in a great city, knows how hopeless the attempt seems after the
+first hour. The rapid motion through many dusky streets, the looking in,
+from time to time, upon some merry company assembled in a warm room under
+a brilliant light, the anxious search among the guests for the familiar
+figure, the disappointment, as each fancied resemblance shows, on near
+approach, a face unknown to the searcher, the hurried exit and the quick
+passage through the dark night air to the next halting-place--all these
+impressions, following hurriedly upon each other, confuse the mind and at
+last discourage hope.
+
+Schmidt did not realise how late it was, when, abandoning his search for
+his employer, he turned towards the police-station in the hope of still
+rendering some assistance to his friend. He could not gain admittance to
+the presence of the officer in charge, however, and was obliged to content
+himself with the assurance that the Count had been treated "with
+consideration," as the phrase was, and that there would be plenty of time
+for talking in the morning. The policemen in the guard-room were sleepy
+and not disposed to enter into conversation. Schmidt turned his steps in
+the direction of the tobacconist's house for the second time, in sheer
+despair. But he found the street door shut and the whole house was dark.
+Nevertheless, he pulled the little handle upon which, by the aid of a
+flickering match, he discovered a figure of three, corresponding to the
+floor occupied by Fischelowitz. Again and again he tugged vigorously at
+the brass knob until he could hear the bell tinkling far above. No other
+sound followed, however, in the silence of the night, though he strained
+his ears for the faintest echo of a distant footfall and the slightest
+noise indicating that a window or a door was about to be opened. He
+wondered whether Fischelowitz had come home. If he had, Akulina had surely
+told him the story of the evening, and he would have been heard of at the
+police-station, for it was incredible that he should let the night pass
+without making an effort to liberate the Count. Therefore the tobacconist
+had in all probability not yet returned. The night was fairly warm, and
+the Cossack sat down upon a doorstep, lighted a cigarette and waited. In
+spite of long years spent in the midst of German civilisation, it was
+still as natural to him to sit down in the open air at night and to watch
+the stars, as though he had never changed his own name for the plain
+German appellation of Johann Schmidt, nor laid aside the fur cap and the
+sheepskin coat of his tribe for the shabby jacket and the rusty black hat
+of higher social development.
+
+There was no truth in Akulina's statement that a thunder-storm was
+approaching. The stars shone clear and bright, high above the narrow
+street, and the solitary man looked up at them, and remembered other days
+and a freer life and a broader horizon; days when he had been younger than
+he was now, a life full of a healthier labour, a horizon boundless as that
+of the little street was limited. He thought, as he often thought when
+alone in the night, of his long journeys on horseback, driving great
+flocks of bleating sheep over endless steppes and wolds and expanses of
+pasture and meadow; he remembered the reddening of the sheep's woolly
+coats in the evening sun, the quick change from gold to grey as the sun
+went down, the slow transition from twilight to night, the uncertain gait
+of his weary beast as the darkness closed in, the soft sound of the sheep
+huddling together, the bark of his dog, the sudden, leaping light of the
+camp-fire on the distant rising ground, the voices of greeting, the
+bubbling of the soup kettle, the grateful rest, the song of the wandering
+Tchumak--the pedlar and roving newsman of the Don. He remembered on
+holidays the wild racing and chasing and the sports in the saddle, the
+picking up of the tiny ten-kopek bit from the earth at a full gallop, the
+startling game in which a row of fearless Cossack girls join hands
+together, daring the best rider to break their rank with his plunging
+horse if he can, the mad laughter of the maidens, the snorting and rearing
+of the animal as he checks himself before the human wall that will not
+part to make way for him. All these things he recalled, the change of the
+seasons, the iron winter, the scorching summer, the glory of autumn and
+the freshness of spring. Born to such a liberty, he had fallen into the
+captivity of a common life; bred in the desert, he knew that his declining
+years would be spent in the eternal cutting of tobacco in the close air of
+a back shop; trained to the saddle, he spent his days seated motionless
+upon a wooden chair. The contrast was bitter enough, between the life he
+was meant to lead by nature, and the life he was made to lead by
+circumstances. And all this was the result in the first instant of a
+girl's caprice, of her fancy for another man, so little different from
+himself that a Western woman could hardly have told the two apart. For
+this, he had left the steppe, had wandered westward to the Dnieper and
+southward to Odessa, northward again to Kiew, to Moscow, to
+Nizni-Novgorod, back again to Poland, to Krakau, to Prague, to Munich at
+last. Who could remember his wanderings, or trace the route of his endless
+journeyings? Not he himself, surely, any more than he could explain the
+gradual steps by which he had been transformed from a Don Cossack to a
+German tobacco-cutter in a cigarette manufactory.
+
+But his past life at least furnished him with memories, varied, changing,
+full of light and life and colour, wherewith to while away an hour's
+watching in the night. Still he sat upon his doorstep, watching star after
+star as it slowly culminated over the narrow street and set, for him,
+behind the nearest house-top. He might have sat there till morning had he
+not been at last aware that some one was walking upon the opposite
+pavement.
+
+His quick ear caught the soft fall of an almost noiseless footstep and he
+could distinguish a shadow a little darker than the surrounding shade,
+moving quickly along the wall. He rose to his feet and crossed the street,
+not believing, indeed, that the newcomer could be the man he wanted, but
+anxious to be fully satisfied that he was not mistaken. He found himself
+face to face with a young girl, who stopped at the street door of the
+tobacconist's house, just as he reached it. Her head was muffled in
+something dark and he could not distinguish her features. She started on
+seeing him, hesitated and then laid her hand upon the same knob which
+Schmidt had pulled so often in vain.
+
+"It is of no use to ring," he said, quietly. "I have given it up."
+
+"Herr Schmidt!" exclaimed the girl in evident delight. It was Vjera.
+
+"Yes--but, in Heaven's name, Vjera, what are you doing here at this hour
+of the night? You ought to be at home and asleep."
+
+"Oh, you have not heard the dreadful news," cried poor Vjera in accents of
+distress. "Oh, if we cannot get in here, come with me, for the love of
+Heaven, and help me to get him out of that horrible place--oh, if you only
+knew what has happened!"
+
+"I know all about it, Vjera," answered the Cossack. "That is the reason
+why I am here. I was with them when it happened and I ran off to get
+Fischelowitz. As ill luck would have it, he was out."
+
+In a few words Schmidt explained the whole affair and told of his own
+efforts. Vjera was breathless with excitement and anxiety.
+
+"What is to be done? Dear Herr Schmidt! What is to be done?" She wrung her
+hands together and fixed her tearful eyes on his.
+
+"I am afraid that there is nothing to be done until morning--"
+
+"But there must be something, there shall be something done! They will
+drive him mad in that dreadful place--he is so proud and so sensitive--you
+do not know--the mere idea of being in prison--"
+
+"It is not so bad as that," answered Schmidt, trying to reassure her.
+"They assured me that he was treated with every consideration, you know.
+Of course that means that he was not locked up like a common prisoner."
+
+"Do you think so?" Vjera's tone expressed no conviction in the matter.
+
+"Certainly. And it shows that he is not really suspected of anything
+serious--only, because Fischelowitz could not be found--"
+
+"But he is there--there in his house, asleep!" cried Vjera. "And we can
+wake him up--of course we can. He cannot be sleeping so soundly as not to
+hear if we ring hard. At least his wife will hear and look out of the
+window."
+
+"I am afraid not. I have tried it."
+
+But Vjera would not be discouraged and laid hold of the bell-handle again,
+pulling it out as far as it would come and letting it fly back again with
+a snap. The same results followed as when Schmidt had made the same
+attempt. There was a distant tinkling followed by total silence. Vjera
+repeated the operation.
+
+"You cannot do more than I have done," said her companion, leaning his
+back against the door and watching her movements.
+
+"I ought to do more."
+
+"Why, Vjera?"
+
+"Because he is more to me than to you or to any of the rest," she answered
+in a low voice.
+
+"Do you mean to say that you love the Count?" inquired Schmidt, surprised
+beyond measure by the girl's words and rendered thereby even more tactless
+than usual.
+
+But Vjera said nothing, having been already led into saying more than she
+had wished to say. She pulled the bell again.
+
+"I had never thought of that," remarked the Cossack in a musing tone. "But
+he is mad, Vjera, the poor Count is mad. It is a pity that you should love
+a madman--"
+
+"O, don't, Herr Schmidt--please don't!" cried Vjera, imploring him to be
+silent as much with her eyes as with her voice.
+
+"No, but really," continued the other, as though talking to himself,
+"there are things that go beyond all imagination in this world. Now, who
+would ever have thought of such a thing?"
+
+This time Vjera did not make any answer, nor repeat her request. But as
+she tugged with all her might at the brass handle, the Cossack heard a
+quick sob, and then another.
+
+"Poor Vjera!" he exclaimed kindly, and laying his hand on her shoulder.
+"Poor child! I am very sorry for you, poor Vjera--I would do anything to
+help you, indeed I would--if I only knew what it should be."
+
+"Then help me to wake up Fischelowitz," answered the girl in a shaken
+voice. "I am sure he is at home at this time--"
+
+"I have done all I can. If he will not wake, he will not. Or if he is
+awake he will not put his head out of the window, which is much the same
+thing so far as we are concerned. By the bye, Vjera, you have not told me
+how you came to hear of the row. It is queer that you should have heard of
+it--"
+
+"Herr Homolka--you know, my landlord--had seen the Count go by with the
+Gigerl and the policemen. He asked some one in the crowd and learned the
+story. But it was late when he came home, and he told us--I was sitting up
+sewing with his wife--and then I ran here. But do please help me--we can
+do something, I am sure."
+
+"I do not see what, short of climbing up the flat walls of the house. But
+I am not a lizard, you know."
+
+"We might call. Perhaps they would hear our voices if we called together,"
+suggested Vjera, drawing back into the middle of the street and looking up
+at the closed windows of the third story.
+
+"Herr Fischelowitz!" she cried, in a shrill, weak tone that seemed to find
+no echo in the still air.
+
+"Herr Fischelowitz, Fischelowitz, Fischelowitz!" bawled the Cossack,
+taking up the idea and putting it into very effective execution. His
+brazen voice, harsh and high, almost made the windows rattle.
+
+"Somebody will hear that," he observed and cleared his throat for another
+effort.
+
+A number of persons heard it, and at the first repetition of the yell, two
+or three windows were angrily opened. A head in a white nightcap looked
+out from the first story.
+
+"What do you want at this hour of the night?" asked the owner of the
+nightcap, already in a rage.
+
+"I want Herr Fischelowitz, who lives in this house," answered the Cossack,
+firmly.
+
+"Do you live here? Are you shut out?"
+
+"No--we only want--"
+
+"Then go to the devil!" roared the infuriated German, shutting his window
+again with a vicious slam. A grunt of satisfaction from other directions
+was followed by the shutting of other windows, and presently all was
+silent again.
+
+"I am afraid they sleep at the back of the house," said Vjera, growing
+despondent at last.
+
+"I am afraid so, too," answered Johann Schmidt, proudly conscious that the
+noise he had made would have disturbed the slumbers of the Seven Sleepers
+of Ephesus.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+"You had better let me take you home," said Schmidt, kindly, after the
+total failure of the last effort.
+
+Vjera seemed to be stupefied by the sense of disappointment. She went back
+to the door of the tobacconist's house and put out her hand as though to
+ring the bell again then, realising how useless the attempt would be, she
+let her arms fall by her sides and leaned against the door-post, her
+muffled head bent forward and her whole attitude expressing her despair.
+
+"Come, come, Vjera," said the Cossack in an encouraging tone, "it is not
+so bad after all. By this time the Count is fast asleep and is dreaming of
+his fortune, you know, so that it would be a cruelty to wake him up. In
+the morning we will all go with Fischelowitz and have him let out, and he
+will be none the worse."
+
+"I am afraid he will be--very much the worse," said Vjera. "It is
+Wednesday to-morrow, and if he wakes up there--oh, I do not dare think of
+it. It will make him quite, quite mad. Can we do nothing more? Nothing?"
+
+"I think we have done our best to wake up this quarter of the town, and
+yet Fischelowitz is still asleep. No one else can be of any use to
+us--therefore--" he stopped, for his conclusion seemed self-evident.
+
+"I suppose so," said Vjera, regretfully. "Let us go, then."
+
+She turned and with her noiseless step began to walk slowly away, Schmidt
+keeping close by her side. For some minutes neither spoke. The streets
+were deserted, dry and still.
+
+"Do you think there is any truth at the bottom of the Count's story?"
+asked the Cossack at last.
+
+"I do not know," Vjera answered, shaking her head. "I do not know what to
+think," she continued after a little pause. "He tells us all the same
+thing, he speaks of his letters, but he never shows them to anyone. I am
+afraid--" she sighed and stopped speaking.
+
+"I will tell you this much," said her companion. "That man is honest to
+the backbone, honest as the good daylight on the hills, where there are no
+houses to darken it and make shadows."
+
+"He is an angel of goodness and kindness," said Vjera softly.
+
+"I know he is. Is he not always helping others when he is starving
+himself? Now what I say is this. No man who is as good and as honest as he
+is, can have become so mad about a mere piece of fancy--about an invented
+lie, to be plain. What there is in his story I do not know, but I am sure
+that there was truth in it once. It may have been a long time ago, but
+there was a time once, when he had some reason to expect the money and the
+titles he talks of every Tuesday evening."
+
+"Do you really think that?" asked Vjera, eagerly. Her own understanding
+had never gone so far in its deduction.
+
+"I am sure of it. I know nothing about mad people, but I am sure that no
+honest man ever invented a story out of nothing and then became crazy
+because it did not turn out true."
+
+"But you, who have travelled so much, Herr Schmidt, have you ever heard
+the name before--have you ever heard of such a family?"
+
+"I have a bad memory for names, but I believe I have. I cannot be sure. It
+makes no difference. It is a good Russian name, in any case, and a
+gentleman's name, I should think. Of course I only mean that I--that you
+should not think that because I--in fact," blundered out the good man,
+"you must not suppose that you will be a real countess, you know."
+
+"I?" exclaimed Vjera, with a nervous, hysterical laugh, which the Cossack
+supposed to be genuine.
+
+"That is all I wanted to say," he continued in a tone of relief, as though
+he felt that he had done his duty in warning the poor girl of a possible
+disappointment. "It may be true--of course, and I am sure that it once
+was, or something like it, but I do not believe he has any chance of
+getting his own after so long."
+
+"I cannot think of it--in either way. If it is all an old forgotten tale
+which he believes in still-why then, he is mad. Is it not dreadful to see?
+So quiet and sensible all the week, and then, on Tuesday night, his
+farewell speech to us all--every Tuesday--and his disappointment the next
+day, and then a new week begun without any recollection of it all! It is
+breaking my heart, Herr Schmidt!"
+
+"Indeed, poor Vjera, you look as though it were."
+
+"And yet, and yet--I do not know. I think that if it were one day to turn
+out true--then my heart would be quite broken, for he would go away, and I
+should never see him again."
+
+Accustomed as she was to daily association with the man who was walking by
+her side, knowing his good heart and feeling his sympathy, it is small
+wonder that the lonely girl should have felt impelled to unburden her soul
+of some of its bitterness. If her life had gone on as usual, undisturbed
+by anything from without, the confessions which now fell from her lips so
+easily would never have found words. But she had been unsettled by what
+had happened in the early evening, and unstrung by her great anxiety for
+the Count's safety. Her own words sounded in her ear before she knew that
+she was going to speak them.
+
+"I am sure that something dreadful is going to happen," she continued
+after a moment's pause. "He will go mad in that horrible prison, raving
+mad, so that they will have to--to hold him--" she sobbed and then
+recovered herself by an effort. "Or else--he will fall ill and die, after
+it--" Here she broke down completely and stopping in the middle of the
+street began crying bitterly, clutching at Schmidt's arm as though to keep
+from falling.
+
+"I should not wonder," he said, but she fortunately did not catch the
+words.
+
+He was very sorry for the poor girl, and felt inclined to take her in his
+arms and carry her to her home, for he saw that she was weak and exhausted
+as well as overcome by her anxiety. Before resorting to such a measure,
+however, he thought it best to try to encourage her to walk on.
+
+"Nothing that one expects, ever happens," he said confidently, and passing
+his arm through hers, as though to lead her away. "Come, you will be at
+home presently and then you will go to bed and in the morning, before you
+are at the shop, everything will have been set right, and I daresay the
+Count will be there before you, and looking as well as ever."
+
+"How can you say that, when you know that he never comes on Wednesdays!"
+exclaimed Vjera through her tears. "I am sure something dreadful will
+happen to him. No, not that way--not that way!"
+
+Schmidt was trying to guide her round a sharp corner, but she resisted
+him.
+
+"But that is the way home," protested the Cossack.
+
+"I know, but I cannot go home, until I have seen where he is. I must
+go--you must not prevent me!"
+
+"To the police-station?" inquired Schmidt in considerable astonishment.
+"They will not let us go in, you know. You cannot possibly see him. What
+good can it do you to go and look at the place?"
+
+"You do not understand, Herr Schmidt! You are good and kind, but you do
+not understand me. Pray, pray come with me, or let me go alone. I will go
+alone, if you do not want to come. I am not at all afraid--but I must go."
+
+"Well, child," answered Schmidt, good-humouredly. "I will go with you,
+since you are so determined."
+
+"Is this the way? Are you not misleading me? Oh, I am sure I shall never
+see him again--quick, let us walk quickly, Herr Schmidt! Only think what
+he may be suffering at this very moment!"
+
+"I am sure he is asleep, my dear child. And when we are outside of the
+police-station we cannot know what is going on inside, whether our friend
+is asleep or awake, and it can do no good whatever to go. But since you
+really wish it so much, we are going there as fast as we can, and I
+promise to take you by the shortest way."
+
+Her step grew more firm as they went on and he felt that there was more
+life in the hand that rested on his arm. The prospect of seeing the walls
+of the place in which the Count was unwillingly spending the night gave
+Vjera fresh strength and courage. The way was long, as distances are
+reckoned in Munich, and more than ten minutes elapsed before they reached
+the building. A sentry was pacing the pavement under the glare of the
+gaslight, his shadow lengthening, shortening, disappearing and lengthening
+again on the stone-way as he walked slowly up and down. Vjera and her
+companion stopped on the other side of the street. The sentinel paid no
+attention to them.
+
+"You are quite sure it is there?" asked the girl, under her breath.
+Schmidt nodded instead of answering.
+
+"Then I will pray that all may be well this night," she said.
+
+She dropped the Cossack's arm and slipped away from him; then pausing at a
+little distance, in the deep shadow of an archway opposite the station,
+she knelt down upon the pavement, and taking some small object, which was
+indistinguishable in the darkness, from the bosom of her frock she clasped
+her hands together and looked upwards through the gloom at the black walls
+of the great building. The Cossack looked at her in a sort of half-stupid,
+half-awed surprise, scarcely understanding what she was doing at first,
+and feeling his heart singularly touched when he realised that she was
+praying out here in the street, kneeling on the common pavement of the
+city, as though upon the marble floor of a church, and actually saying
+prayers--he could hear low sounds of earnest tone escaping from her
+lips--prayers for the man she loved, because he was shut up for the night
+in the police-station like an ordinary disturber of the peace. He was
+touched, for the action, in its simplicity of faith, set in vibration the
+chords of a nature accustomed originally to simple things, simple hopes,
+simple beliefs. Instinctively, as he watched her, Johann Schmidt raised
+his hat from his round head for a moment, and if he had possessed any
+nearer acquaintance with praying in general or with any prayer in
+particular it is almost certain that his lips would have moved. As it was,
+he felt sorry for Vjera, he hoped that the Count would be none the worse
+for his adventure, and he took off his hat. Let it be counted to him for
+righteousness.
+
+As for poor Vjera herself, she was so much in earnest that she altogether
+forgot where she was. For love, it has been found, is a great suggester of
+prayer, if not of meditation, and when the beloved one is in danger a
+little faith seems magnified to such dimensions as would certainly accept
+unhesitatingly a whole mountain of dogmas. Vjera's ideas were indeed
+confused, and she would have found it hard to define the result which she
+so confidently expected. But if that result were to be in any proportion
+to her earnestness of purpose and sincerity of heart, it could not take a
+less imposing shape than a direct intervention of Providence, at the very
+least; and as the poor Polish girl rose from her knees she would hardly
+have been surprised to see the green-coated sentinel thrust aside by
+legions of angelic beings, hastening to restore to her the only treasure
+her humble life knew of, or dreamed of, or cared for.
+
+But as the visions which her prayers had called before her faded away into
+the night, she saw again the dingy walls of the hated building, the gilt
+spike on the helmet of the policeman and the shining blade that caught the
+light as he moved on his beat. For one moment Vjera stood quite still.
+Then with a passionate gesture she stretched out both arms before her, as
+though to draw out to herself, by sheer strength of longing, the man whose
+life she felt to be her own--and at last, wearied and exhausted, but no
+longer despairing altogether, she covered her face with her hands and
+repeated again and again the two words which made up the burden of her
+supplication.
+
+"Save him, save him, save him!" she whispered to herself.
+
+When she looked up, at last, Schmidt was by her side. There was something
+oddly respectful in his attitude and manner as he stood there awaiting her
+pleasure, ready to be guided by her whithersoever she pleased. It seemed
+to him that on this evening he had begun to see Vjera in a new light, and
+that she was by no means the poor, insignificant little shell-maker he had
+always supposed her to be. It seemed to him that she was transformed into
+a woman, and into a woman of strong affections and brave heart. And yet he
+knew every outline of her plain face, and had known every change of her
+expression for years, since she had first come to the shop, a mere girl
+not yet thirteen years of age. Nor had it been from lack of observation
+that he had misunderstood her, for like most men born and bred in the
+wilderness, he watched faces and tried to read them. The change had taken
+place in Vjera herself and it must be due, he thought, to her love for the
+poor madman. He smiled to himself in the dark, scarcely understanding why.
+It was strange to him perhaps that madness on the one side should bring
+into life such a world of love on the other.
+
+Vjera turned towards him and once more laid her hand upon his arm.
+
+"Thank you," she said. "I could not have slept if I had not come here
+first, and it was very good of you. I will go home, but do not come with
+me--you must be tired."
+
+"I am never tired," he answered, and they began to walk away in the
+direction whence they had come.
+
+For a long time neither spoke. At last Schmidt broke the silence.
+
+"Vjera," he said, "I have been thinking about it all and I do not
+understand it. What kind of love is it that makes you act as you do?"
+
+Vjera stood still, for they were close to her door, and there was a street
+lamp at hand so that she could see his face. She saw that he asked the
+question earnestly.
+
+"It is something that I cannot explain--it is something holy," she
+answered.
+
+Perhaps the forlorn little shell-maker had found the definition of true
+love.
+
+She let herself in with her key and Schmidt once more found himself alone
+in the street. If he had followed his natural instinct he would have
+loitered about in one of the public squares until morning, making up for
+the loss of his night's rest by sleeping in the daytime. But he had taken
+upon himself the responsibilities of marriage as they are regarded west of
+the Dnieper, and his union had been blessed by the subsequent appearance
+of a number of olive-branches. It was therefore necessary that he should
+sleep at night in order to work by day, and he reluctantly turned his
+footsteps towards home. As he walked, he thought of all that had happened
+since five o'clock in the afternoon, and of all that he had learned in the
+course of the night. Vjera's story interested him and touched him, and her
+acts seemed to remind him of something which he nevertheless could not
+quite remember. Far down in his toughened nature the strings of a
+forgotten poetry vibrated softly as though they would make music if they
+dared. Far back in the chain of memories, the memory once best loved was
+almost awake once more, the link of once clasped hands was almost alive
+again, the tender pressure of fingers now perhaps long dead was again
+almost a reality able to thrill body and soul. And with all that, and with
+the certainty that those things were gone for ever, arose the great
+longing for one more breath of liberty, for one more ride over the
+boundless steppe, for one more draught of the sour kvass, of the camp brew
+of rye and malt.
+
+The longing for such things, for one thing almost unattainable, is in man
+and beast at certain times. In the distant northern plains, a hundred
+miles from the sea, in the midst of the Laplander's village, a young
+reindeer raises his broad muzzle to the north wind, and stares at the
+limitless distance while a man may count a hundred. He grows restless from
+that moment, but he is yet alone. The next day, a dozen of the herd look
+up, from the cropping of the moss, snuffing the breeze. Then the Laps nod
+to one another, and the camp grows daily more unquiet. At times, the whole
+herd of young deer stand at gaze, as it were, breathing hard through wide
+nostrils, then jostling each other and stamping the soft ground. They grow
+unruly and it is hard to harness them in the light sledge. As the days
+pass, the Laps watch them more and more closely, well knowing what will
+happen sooner or later. And then at last, in the northern twilight, the
+great herd begins to move. The impulse is simultaneous, irresistible,
+their heads are all turned in one direction. They move slowly at first,
+biting still, here and there, at the bunches of rich moss. Presently the
+slow step becomes a trot, they crowd closely together while the Laps
+hasten to gather up their last unpacked possessions, their cooking
+utensils and their wooden gods. The great herd break together from a trot
+to a gallop, from a gallop to a break-neck race, the distant thunder of
+their united tread reaches the camp during a few minutes, and they are
+gone to drink of the polar sea. The Laps follow after them, dragging
+painfully their laden sledges in the broad track left by the thousands of
+galloping beasts--a day's journey, and they are yet far from the sea, and
+the trail is yet broad. On the second day it grows narrower, and there are
+stains of blood to be seen; far on the distant plain before them their
+sharp eyes distinguish in the direct line a dark, motionless object,
+another and then another. The race has grown more desperate and more wild
+as the stampede neared the sea. The weaker reindeer have been thrown down,
+and trampled to death by their stronger fellows. A thousand sharp hoofs
+have crushed and cut through hide and flesh and bone. Ever swifter and
+more terrible in their motion, the ruthless herd has raced onward,
+careless of the slain, careless of food, careless of any drink but the
+sharp salt water ahead of them. And when at last the Laplanders reach the
+shore their deer are once more quietly grazing, once more tame and docile,
+once more ready to drag the sledge whithersoever they are guided. Once in
+his life the reindeer must taste of the sea in one long, satisfying
+draught, and if he is hindered he perishes. Neither man nor beast dare
+stand between him and the ocean in the hundred miles of his arrow-like
+path.
+
+Something of this longing came upon the Cossack, as he suddenly remembered
+the sour taste of the kvass, to the recollection of which he had been
+somehow led by a train of thought which had begun with Vjera's love for
+the Count, to end abruptly in a camp kettle. For the heart of man is much
+the same everywhere, and there is nothing to show that the step from the
+sublime to the ridiculous is any longer in the Don country than in any
+other part of the world. But between poor Johann Schmidt and his draught
+of kvass there lay obstacles not encountered by the reindeer in his race
+for the Arctic Ocean. There was the wife, and there were the children, and
+there was the vast distance, so vast that it might have discouraged even
+the fleet-footed scourer of the northern snows. Johann Schmidt might long
+for his kvass, and draw in his thin, wan lips at the thought of the taste
+of it, and bend his black brows and close his sharp eyes as in a dream--it
+was all of no use, there was no change in store for him. He had cast his
+lot in the land of beer and sausages, and he must work out his salvation
+and the support of his family without a ladleful of the old familiar brew
+to satisfy his unreasonable caprices.
+
+So, last of all those concerned in the events of the evening, Johann
+Schmidt went home to bed and to rest. That power, at least, had remained
+with him. Whenever he lay down he could close his eyes and be asleep, and
+forget the troubles and the mean trifles of his thorny existence. In this
+respect he had the advantage of the others.
+
+Vjera lay down, indeed, but the attempt to sleep seemed more painful than
+the accepted reality of waking. The night was the most terrible in her
+remembrance, filled as it was with anxiety for the fate of the man she so
+dearly loved. To her still childlike inexperience of the world, the
+circumstances seemed as full of fear and danger as though the poor Count
+had been put upon his trial for a murder or a robbery on an enormous
+scale, instead of being merely detained because he could not give a
+satisfactory account of a puppet which had been found in his possession.
+In the poor girl's imagination arose visions of judges, awful personages
+in funereal robes and huge Hack caps, with cruel lips and hard, steely
+eyes, sitting in solemn state in a gloomy hall and dispensing death,
+disgrace, or long terms of prison, at the very least, to all comers. For
+her, the police-station was a dungeon, and she fancied the Count chained
+to a dank and slimy wall in a painful position, chilled to the marrow by
+the touch of the dripping stone, his teeth chattering, his face distorted
+with suffering. Of course he was in a solitary cell, behind a heavy door,
+braced with clamps and bolts and locks and studded with great dark iron
+nails. Without, the grim policemen were doubtless pacing up and down with
+drawn swords, listening with a murderous delight to the groans of their
+victim as he writhed in his chains. In the eyes of the poor and the young,
+the law is a very terrible thing, taking no account of persons, and very
+little of the relative magnitude of men's misdeeds. The province of
+justice, as Vjera conceived it, was to crush in its iron claws all who had
+the misfortune to come within its reach. Vjera had never heard of Judge
+Jeffreys nor of the Bloody Assizes, but the methods of procedure adopted
+by that eminent destroyer of his kind would have seemed mild and humane
+compared with what she supposed that all men, innocent or guilty, had to
+expect after they had once fallen into the hands of the policeman. She was
+not a German girl, taught in the common school to understand something of
+the methods by which society governs itself. Her early childhood had been
+spent in a Polish village, far within the Russian frontier, and though the
+law in Russian Poland is not exactly the irresponsible and blood-thirsty
+monster depicted by young gentlemen and old maids who traverse the country
+in search of horrors, yet it must be admitted by the least prejudiced that
+it sometimes moves in a mysterious way, calculated to rouse some
+apprehension in the minds of those who are governed by it. And Vjera had
+brought with her her childish impressions, and applied them in the present
+case as descriptive of the Munich police-station. The whole subject was to
+her so full of horror that she had not dared to ask Schmidt for the
+details of the Count's situation. To her, a revolutionary caught in the
+act of undermining the Tsar's bedroom, could not be in a worse case. She
+would not have believed Schmidt, had he told her that the Count was
+sitting in an attitude of calm thought upon the edge of a broad wooden
+bench, his hands quite free from chains and gyves, and occupied in rolling
+cigarettes at regular intervals of half an hour--and this, in a clean and
+well-ventilated room, lighted by a ground glass lantern. She would have
+supposed that Schmidt was inventing a description of such comfort and
+comparative luxury in order to calm her fears, and she would have been ten
+times more afraid than before.
+
+It is small wonder that she could not sleep. The Count's arrest alone
+would have sufficed to keep her in an agony of wakefulness, and there were
+other matters, besides that, which tormented the poor girl's brain. She
+had been long accustomed to his singular madness and to hearing from him
+the assurance of his returning to wealth. At first, with perfect
+simplicity, she had believed every word of the story he told with such
+evident certainty of its truth, and she had reproached her older
+companions, as far as she dared, for their incredulity. But at last she
+had herself been convinced of his madness as through the weeks, and
+months, and years, the state of expectation returned on Tuesday evenings,
+to be followed by the disappointments of Wednesday and by the oblivion
+which ensued on Thursday morning. Vjera, like the rest, had come to regard
+the regularly recurring delusion as being wholly groundless, and not to be
+taken into account, except inasmuch as it deprived them of the Count's
+company on Wednesdays, for on that day he stayed at home, in his garret
+room, waiting for the high personages who were to restore to him his
+wealth. Sometimes, indeed, when he chanced to be very sure that they would
+not come for him until evening, he would stroll through the town for an
+hour, looking into the shop windows and making up his mind what he should
+buy; and sometimes, on such occasions, he would visit the scene of his
+late labours, as he called the tobacconist's shop on that day of the week,
+and would exchange a few friendly words with his former companions. On
+Thursday morning he invariably returned to his place without remark and
+resumed his work, not seeming to understand any observations made about
+his absence or strange conduct on the previous day.
+
+So far the story he had told Vjera had always been the same. Now, however,
+he had introduced a new incident in the tale, which filled poor Vjera with
+dismay. He had never before spoken of his father and brother, except as
+the causes of his disasters, explaining that the powerful influence of his
+own friends, aided by the machinery of justice, had at last obliged them
+to concede him a proportional part of the fortune. Fischelowitz was
+accustomed to laugh at this statement, saying that if the Count were only
+a younger son, the law would do nothing for him and that he must continue
+to earn his livelihood as he could. In the course of a long time Vjera had
+come to the conclusion, by comparing this remark with the Count's
+statement when in his abnormal condition, that he was indeed the son of a
+great noble who had turned him out of doors for some fancied misdeed, and
+from whom he had in reality nothing to expect. Such was the girl's present
+belief.
+
+Now, however, he had suddenly declared that his father and his brother
+were dead. With a woman's keenness she took alarm at this new development.
+She really loved the poor man with all her heart. If this new addition to
+his story were a mere invention, it was a sign that his madness was
+growing upon him, and she had heard her companions discuss their comrade
+often enough to know that, in their opinion, if he began to grow worse, he
+would very soon be in the madhouse. It was bad enough to go through what
+she suffered so often, to see the inward struggle expressed on his face,
+whenever he chanced to be alone with her on a Tuesday afternoon, to hear
+from his lips the same assurance of love, the same offer of marriage, and
+to know that all would be forgotten and that his manner to her would
+change again, by Thursday, to that of a uniform, considerate kindness. It
+was bad enough, for the girl loved him and was sensitive. But it would be
+worse--how much worse, she dared not think--to see him go mad before her
+very eyes, to see him taken away at last from the midst of them all to the
+huge brick house in the outskirts of the city beyond the Isar.
+
+One more hypothesis remained. This time the story might turn out true. She
+believed in his birth and in his misfortunes, and in the existence of his
+father and his brother. They might indeed be dead, as he had told her, and
+he would then, perhaps, be sole master in their stead--she did not know
+how that would be, in Russia. But then, if it were all true, he must go
+away--and her life would be over, with its loving hope and its hopeless
+love.
+
+It is small wonder that Vjera did not sleep that night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+Once or twice in the course of the night, the Count changed his position,
+got up, stretched himself and paced the length of the room. Dumnoff lay
+like a log upon his pallet, his head thrown back, his mouth open, snoring
+with the strong bass vibration of a thirty-two-foot organ pipe. The Count
+looked at him occasionally, but did not envy him his power of sleep. His
+own reflections were in a measure more agreeable than any dream could have
+been, certainly more so in his judgment than the visions of unlimited
+cabbage soup, vodka, and fighting which were doubtless delighting
+Dumnoff's slumbering soul.
+
+As the church clocks struck one hour after another, his spirits rose. He
+had, indeed, never had the least apprehension concerning his own liberty,
+since he knew himself to be perfectly innocent. He only desired to be
+released as soon as possible in order to repair the damage done to his
+coat and collar before the earliest hour at which the messengers of good
+news could be expected at his house. Meanwhile he cared little whether he
+spent the night on a bench in the police-station, or on one of the rickety
+wooden chairs which afforded the only sitting accommodation in his own
+room. He could not sleep in either case, for his brain was too wide awake
+with the anticipations of the morrow, and with the endless plans for
+future happiness which suggested themselves.
+
+At last he was aware that the nature of the light in the room was changing
+and that the white ground glass of the lantern was illuminated otherwise
+than by the little flame within. The high window, as he looked up, was
+like a grey figure cut out of dark paper, and the dawn was stealing in at
+last.
+
+"Wednesday at last!" he exclaimed softly to himself. "Wednesday at last!"
+A gentle smile spread over his tired face, and made it seem less haggard
+and drawn than it really was.
+
+The day broke, and somewhere not far from the window, the birds all began
+to sing at once, filling the room with a continuous strain of sound, loud,
+clear and jubilant. The soft spring air seemed to awake, as though it had
+itself been sleeping through the still night and must busy itself now in
+sending the sweet breezes upon their errands to the flowers.
+
+"I always thought it would come in spring," thought the Count, as he
+listened to the pleasant sounds, and then held one of his yellow hands up
+to the window to feel the freshness that was without.
+
+He wondered how long it would be before Fischelowitz would come and tell
+the truth of the Gigerl's story. By his knowledge of the time of daybreak,
+he guessed that it was not yet much past four o'clock, and he doubted
+whether Fischelowitz would come before eight. The tobacconist was a kind
+man, but a comfortable one, loving his rest and his breakfast and his ease
+at all times. Moreover, as the Count knew better than any one else,
+Akulina would be rejoiced to hear of the misadventure which had befallen
+her enemy and would in no way hurry her husband upon his mission of
+justice. She would doubtless consume an unusual amount of time in the
+preparation of his coffee, she would presumably tell him that the milkman
+had not appeared punctually, and would probably assert that there were as
+yet no rolls to be had. The immediate consequence of these spiteful
+fictions would be that Fischelowitz would dress himself very leisurely,
+swallowing the smoke of several cigarettes in the meanwhile, and that he
+would hardly be clothed, fed and out of the house before eight in the
+morning, instead of being on the way to the shop at seven as was his usual
+practice.
+
+But the Count was not at all disturbed by this. The persons whose coming
+he expected were not of the class who pay visits at eight o'clock. It was
+as pleasant to sit still and think of the glorious things in the future,
+as to do anything else, until the great moment came. Here, at least, he
+was undisturbed by the voices of men, unless Dumnoff's portentous snore
+could be called a voice, and to this his ear had grown accustomed.
+
+He sat down again, therefore, in his old position, crossed one knee over
+the other and again produced the piece of crumpled newspaper which held
+his tobacco. The supply was low, but he consoled himself with the belief
+that Dumnoff probably had some about him, and rolled what remained of his
+own for immediate consumption.
+
+He was quite right in his surmises concerning his late employer and the
+latter's wife. Akulina had in the first place let her husband sleep as
+long as he pleased, and had allowed a considerable time to elapse before
+informing him of the events of the previous evening. As was to be
+expected, the good man stated his intention of immediately procuring the
+Count's liberation, and was only prevailed upon with difficulty to taste
+his breakfast. One taste, however, convinced him of the necessity of
+consuming all that was set before him, and while he was thus actively
+employed Akulina entered into the consideration of the theft, recalling
+all the details she could remember about the intimacy supposed to exist
+between the Count and the swindler in coloured glasses, and
+conscientiously showing the matter in all its aspects.
+
+"One fact remains," she said, in conclusion, "he promised you upon his
+honour last night that he would pay you the fifty marks to-day, and, in my
+opinion, since he has been the means of your losing the Gigerl after all,
+he ought to be made to pay the money."
+
+"And where can he get fifty marks to pay me?" inquired Fischelowitz with
+careless good-humour.
+
+"Where he got the doll, I suppose," said Akulina, triumphantly completing
+the vicious circle in which she caused her logic to move.
+
+Fischelowitz smiled as he pushed away his cup, rose and lighted a fresh
+cigarette.
+
+"You are a very good housekeeper, Akulina, my love," he observed. "You
+always know how the money goes."
+
+"That is more than can be said for some people," laughed Akulina. "But
+never mind, Christian Gregorovitch, your wife is only a weak woman, but
+she can take care for two, never fear!"
+
+Fischelowitz was of the same opinion as he, at last, took his hat and left
+the house. To him, the whole affair had a pleasant savour of humour about
+it, and he was by no means so much disturbed as Johann Schmidt or Vjera.
+He had lived in Munich many years and understood very well the way in
+which things are managed in the good-natured Bavarian capital. A night in
+the police-station in the month of May seemed by no means such a terrible
+affair, certainly not a matter involving any great suffering to any one
+concerned. Moreover it could not be helped, a consideration which, when
+available, was a great favourite with the rotund tobacconist. Whatever the
+Count had done on the previous night, he said to himself, was done past
+undoing; and though, if he had found Akulina awake when he returned from
+spending the evening with his friend, and if she had then told him what
+had happened, he would certainly have made haste to get the Count
+released--yet, since Akulina had been sound asleep, he had necessarily
+gone to bed in ignorance of the story, to the temporary inconvenience of
+the arrested pair.
+
+He was not long in procuring an order for the Count's release, but
+Dumnoff's case seemed to be considered as by far the graver of the two,
+since he had actually been guilty of grasping the sacred, green legs of
+two policemen, at the time in the execution of their duty, and of
+violently turning the aforesaid policemen upside down in the public room
+of an eating-house. It was, indeed, reckoned as favourable to him that he
+had returned and submitted to being handcuffed without offering further
+resistance, but it might have gone hard with him if Fischelowitz had not
+procured the co-operation of a Munich householder and taxpayer to bail him
+out until the inquiry should be made. It would have been a serious matter
+for Fischelowitz to lose the work of Dumnoff in his "celebrated
+manufactory" for any length of time together, since it was all he could do
+to meet the increasing demands for his wares with his present staff of
+workers.
+
+"And how did you spend the night, Count?" he inquired as they walked
+quickly down the street together. Dumnoff had made off in the opposite
+direction, in search of breakfast, after which he intended to go directly
+to the shop, as though nothing had happened.
+
+"I spent it very pleasantly, thank you," answered the Count. "The fact is
+that, with such an interesting day before me, I should not have slept if I
+had been at home. I have so much to think of, as you may imagine, and so
+many preparations to make, that the time cannot seem long with me."
+
+"I am glad of that," said Fischelowitz, serenely. "I suppose we shall not
+see you to-day?"
+
+"Hardly--hardly," replied the Count, as though considering whether his
+engagements would allow him to look in at the shop. "You will certainly
+see me this evening, at the latest," he added, as if he had suddenly
+recollected something. "I have not forgotten that I am to hand you fifty
+marks--I only regret that you should have lost the Gigerl, which, I think
+I have heard you say, afforded you some amusement. However, the money
+shall be in your hands without delay, or with as little delay as possible.
+My friends will in all probability arrive by the mid-day train and will,
+of course, come to me at once. An hour or so to talk over our affairs, and
+I shall then have leisure to come to you for a few moments and to settle
+that unfortunate affair. Not indeed, my dear Herr Fischelowitz, that I
+have ever held myself responsible for the dishonest young man who wore
+green spectacles. I was, indeed, a loser by him myself, in an
+insignificant sum, and as he turned out to be such an indifferent
+character, I do not mind acknowledging the fact. I do not think it can
+harm him, if I do. No. I was not responsible for him to you, but since
+your excellent wife, Frau Fischelowitz, labours under the impression that
+I was, I am quite willing to accept the responsibility, and shall
+therefore discharge the debt before night, as a matter of honour."
+
+"It is very kind of you," remarked the tobacconist, smiling at the
+impressive manner in which the promise was made. "But of course, Count, if
+anything should prevent the arrival of your friends, you will not consider
+this to be an engagement."
+
+"Nothing will prevent the coming of those I expect, nor, if anything
+could, would such an accident prevent my fulfilling an engagement which,
+since your excellent wife's remarks last night, I do consider binding upon
+my honour. And now, Herr Fischelowitz, with my best thanks for your
+intervention this morning, I will leave you. After the vicissitudes to
+which I have been exposed during the last twelve hours, my appearance is
+not what I could wish it to be. I have the pleasure to wish you a very
+good morning."
+
+Shaking his companion heartily by the hand, the Count bowed civilly and
+turned into an unfrequented street. Fischelowitz looked after him a few
+seconds, as though expecting that he would turn back and say something
+more, and then walked briskly in the direction of his shop.
+
+He found Akulina standing at the door which led into the workroom, in such
+a position as to be able to serve a customer should any chance to enter,
+and yet so placed as to see the greater part of her audience. For she was
+holding forth volubly in her thick, strong voice, giving her very decided
+opinion about the events of the previous evening, the Count, considered in
+the first place as a specimen of the human race, and secondly, as in
+relation to his acts. Her hearers were poor Vjera, her insignificant
+companion and the Cossack who listened, so to say, without enthusiasm,
+unless the occasional foolish giggle of the younger girl was to be taken
+for the expression of applause.
+
+"I am thoroughly sick of his crazy ways," she was saying, "and if he were
+not really such a good workman we should have turned him out long ago. But
+he really does make cigarettes very well, and with the new shop about to
+be opened, and the demand there is already, it is all we can do to keep
+people satisfied. Not but what my husband has been talking lately of
+getting a new workman from Vilna, and if he turns out to be all that we
+expect, why the Count may go about his business and we shall be left in
+peace at last. Indeed it is high time. My poor nerves will not stand many
+more such scenes as last night, and as for my poor husband, I believe he
+has lost as much money through the Count and his friends as he has paid to
+him for work, and if you turn that into figures it makes the cigarettes he
+rolls worth six marks a thousand instead of three, which is more than any
+pocket can stand, while there are children to be fed at home. And if you
+have anything to say to that, little husband, why just say it!"
+
+Fischelowitz had entered the shop and the last words were addressed to
+him.
+
+"Oh, nothing, nothing," he answered, beginning to bustle cheerily about
+the place, setting a box straight here, removing an empty one there,
+opening the till and counting the small change, and, generally, doing all
+those things which he was accustomed to do when he appeared in the
+morning.
+
+Poor Vjera looked paler and more waxen than ever in her life before, so
+pale indeed was she that the total absence of colour lent a sort of
+refinement to her plain features, not often found even in really beautiful
+faces. She had suffered intensely and was suffering still. From the first
+words that Akulina had spoken she had understood that the Count had been
+in the station-house all night, and she found herself reviewing all the
+hideous visions of his cruel treatment which she had conjured up since the
+previous evening. Akulina of course hastened to say that Fischelowitz had
+lost no time in having the poor man set at liberty, and this at least was
+a relief to Vjera's great anxiety. But she wanted to hear far more than
+Akulina could or would tell, she longed to know whether he had really
+suffered as she fancied he had, and how he looked after spending in a
+prison the night that had seemed so long to her. She would have given
+anything to overwhelm the tobacconist with questions, to ask for a minute
+description of the Count's appearance, to express her past terrors to some
+one and to have some one tell her that they had been groundless.
+
+But she dared not open her lips to speak of the matters which filled her
+thoughts. She was so wretchedly nervous that she felt as though the tears
+would break out at the sound of her own voice, and at the same time she
+was disturbed by the consciousness that Johann Schmidt's eyes watched her
+closely from the corner in which he was steadily wielding his swivel
+knife. It had been almost natural to tell him of her love in the darkness
+of the streets, in the mad anxiety for the loved one's safety, in the
+weariness and the hopelessness of the night hours. But now, sitting at her
+little table, at her daily work, with all the trivial objects that
+belonged to it recalling her to the reality of things, she realised that
+her day-dreams were no longer her secret, and she was ashamed that any one
+should guess the current of her thoughts. It was hard for her to
+understand how she could have thus taken the Cossack into her confidence,
+and she would have made almost any sacrifice to take back the confession.
+Good he was, and honest, and kind-hearted, but she was ashamed of what she
+had done. It seemed to her that, besides giving up to another the
+knowledge of her heart, she had also done something against the dignity of
+him she loved. She herself felt no superiority over Johann Schmidt; they
+were equals in every way. But she did feel, and strongly, that the Cossack
+was not the equal of the Count, and she reproached herself with having
+made a confidant of one beneath her idol in station and refinement. This
+feeling sprang from such a multiplicity of sources, as almost to defy
+explanation. There was, at the bottom of it, the strange, unreasoning
+notion of the superiority of one class over another by right of blood,
+from which no race seems to be wholly exempt, and which has produced such
+surprising results in the world. Poor Vjera had been brought up in one of
+those countries where that tradition is still strongest. The mere sound of
+the word "Count" evoked a body of impressions so firmly rooted, so deeply
+ingrained, as necessarily to influence her judgment. The outward manner of
+the man did the rest, his dignity under all circumstances, his
+uncomplaining patience, his unquestioning generosity, his quiet courtesy
+to every one. There was something in every word he spoke, in his every
+action, which distinguished him from his companions. They themselves felt
+it. He was sometimes ridiculous, poor man, and they laughed together over
+his carefully chosen language, over the grand sweep of his bow and his
+punctilious attention to the smallest promise or shadow of a promise.
+These things amused them, but at the same time they felt that he could
+never be what they were, and that those manners and speeches of his,
+which, if they had imitated them, would have seemed in themselves so many
+forms of vulgarity, were somehow not vulgar in him. Vjera, as she loved
+him, felt all this far more keenly than the others. And besides, to add to
+her embarrassment at present, there was the girl's maidenly shyness and
+timidity. Since she had told Johann Schmidt her secret, she felt as though
+all eyes were upon her, and as though every one were about to turn upon
+her with those jesting questions which coarse natures regard as
+expressions of sympathy where love is concerned. And yet no one spoke to
+her, nor disturbed her. There was only the disquieting consciousness of
+the Cossack's curious scrutiny to remind her that all things were not as
+they had been yesterday.
+
+The hours of the morning seemed endless. On all other days, Vjera was
+accustomed to see the Count's quiet face opposite to her, and when she was
+most weary of her monotonous toil, a glance at him gave her fresh courage,
+and turned the currents of her thoughts into a channel not always smooth
+indeed, but long familiar and never wearisome to follow. The stream
+emptied, it is true, into the dead sea of doubt, and each time, as she
+ended the journey of her fancy, she felt the cruel chill of the
+conclusion, as though she had in reality fallen into a deep, dark water;
+but she was always able to renew the voyage, to return to the
+fountain-head of love, enjoying at least the pleasant, smooth reaches of
+the river, that lay between the racing rapids and the tumbling falls.
+
+But to-day there was no one at the little table opposite, and Vjera's
+reflections would not be guided in their familiar course. Her heart
+yearned for the lonely man who, on that day, sat in the solitude of his
+poor chamber confidently expecting the messengers of good tidings who
+never came. She wondered what expression was on his face, as he watched
+the door and listened for the fall of feet upon the stairs. She knew, for
+she knew his nature, that he had carefully dressed himself in what he had
+that was best, in order to receive decently the long-expected visit; she
+fancied that he would move thoughtfully about the narrow room, trying to
+give it a feebly festive look in accordance with his own inward happiness.
+He would forget to eat, as he sat there, hearing the hours chime one after
+another, seeing the sun rise higher and higher until noon and watching the
+lengthening shadows of the chimneys on the roofs as day declined. More
+than all, she wondered what that dreadful moment could be like when, each
+week, he gave up hope at last, and saw that it had all been a dream. She
+had seen him more than once, towards the evening of the regularly
+recurring day, still confidently expecting the coming of his friends,
+explaining that they must come by the last train, and hastening away in
+order to be ready to receive them. Somewhere between the Wednesday evening
+and the Thursday morning there must be an hour, of which she hardly dared
+to think, in which all was made clear to him, or in which a veil descended
+over all, shutting out in merciful obscurity the brilliant vision and the
+bitter disappointment. If she could only be with him at that moment, she
+thought, she might comfort him, she might make his sufferings more easy to
+bear, and at the idea the tears that were so near rose nearer still to the
+flowing, kept back only by shame of being seen.
+
+It was a terrible day, and everything jarred upon the poor girl's nature,
+from Akulina's thick, strong voice, continually discussing the question of
+marks and pennies, with occasional allusions to late events, to the
+disagreeable, scratching, paring sound of the Cossack's heavy knife as it
+cut its way through the great packages of leaves. The mid-day hour
+afforded no relief, for the pressure of work was great and each of the
+workers had brought a little food to be eaten in haste and almost without
+a change of position. For the work was paid for in proportion to its
+quantity, and the poor people were glad enough when there was so much to
+do, since there was then just so much more to be earned. There were times
+when the demand was slack and when Fischelowitz would not keep his people
+at their tables for more than two or three hours in a day. They might
+occupy the rest of their time as they could, and earn something in other
+ways, if they were able. When those hard times came poor Vjera picked up a
+little sewing, paid for at starvation rates, Johann Schmidt turned his
+hand to the repairing of furs, in which he had some skill, and which is an
+art in itself, and Dumnoff varied his existence by exercising great
+economy in the matter of food without making a similar reduction in the
+allowance of his drink. Under ordinary circumstances Vjera would have
+rejoiced at the quantity of work to be done, and as it was, her mental
+suffering did not make her fingers awkward or less nervously eager in the
+perpetual rolling of the little pieces of paper round the glass tube. Even
+acute physical pain is often powerless to affect the mechanical skill of a
+hand trained for many years to repeat the same little operation thousands
+of times in a day with unvarying perfection. Vjera worked as well and as
+quickly as ever, though the hours seemed so endlessly long as to make her
+wonder why she did not turn out more work than usual. From time to time
+the two men exchanged more or less personal observations after their
+manner.
+
+"It seems to me that you work better than usual," remarked the Cossack,
+looking at Dumnoff.
+
+"I feel better," laughed the latter. "I feel as though I had been having a
+holiday and a country dance."
+
+"For the sake of your health, you ought to have a little excitement now
+and then," continued Schmidt. "It is hard for a man of your constitution
+to be shut up day after day as you are here. A little bear-fight now and
+then would do you almost as much good as an extra bottle of brandy,
+besides being cheaper."
+
+"Yes." Dumnoff yawned, displaying all his ferocious white teeth to the
+assembled company. "That is true--and then, those green cloth policemen
+look so funny when one upsets them. I wish I had a few here."
+
+"You have not heard the last of your merry-making yet," said Fischelowitz,
+who was standing in the doorway. "If I had not got you out this morning
+you would still be in the police-station."
+
+"There is something in that," observed Schmidt. "If he were not out, he
+would still be in."
+
+"Well, if I were, I should still be asleep," said Dumnoff. "That would not
+be so bad, after all."
+
+"You may be there again before long," suggested Fischelowitz. "You know
+there is to be an inquiry. I only hope you will do plenty of work before
+they lock you up for a fortnight."
+
+"I suppose they will let me work in prison," answered Dumnoff,
+indifferently. "They do in some places."
+
+Vjera, whose ideas of prisons have been already explained at length, was
+so much surprised that she at last opened her lips.
+
+"Have you ever been in prison?" she asked in a wondering tone.
+
+"Several times," replied the other, without looking up. "But always," he
+added, as though suddenly anxious for his reputation, "always for that
+sort of thing--for upsetting somebody who did not want to be upset. It is
+a curious thing--I always do it in the same way, and they always tumble
+down. One would think people would learn--" he paused as though
+considering a profound problem.
+
+"Perhaps they are not always the same people," remarked the Cossack.
+
+"That is true. That may have something to do with it." The ex-coachman
+relapsed into silence.
+
+"But, is it not very dreadful--in prison?" asked Vjera rather timidly,
+after a short pause.
+
+"No--if one can sleep well, the time passes very pleasantly. Of course,
+one is not always as comfortable as we were last night. That is not to be
+expected."
+
+"Comfortable!" exclaimed the girl in surprise.
+
+"Well--we had a nice room with a good light, and there happened to be
+nobody else in for the night. It was dry and clean and well
+furnished--rather hard beds, I believe, though I scarcely noticed them. We
+smoked and talked some time and then I went to sleep. Oh, yes--I passed a
+very pleasant evening, and a comfortable night."
+
+"But I thought--" Vjera hesitated, as though fearing that she was going to
+say something foolish. "I thought that prisoners always had chains," she
+said, at last.
+
+Everybody laughed loudly at this remark and the poor girl felt very much
+ashamed of herself, though the question had seemed so natural and had been
+in her mind a long time. It was an immense relief, however, to know that
+things had not been so bad as she had imagined, and Dumnoff's description
+of the place of his confinement was certainly reassuring.
+
+As the endless day wore on, she began to glance anxiously towards the
+door, straining her ears for a familiar footstep in the outer shop. As has
+been said, the Count sometimes looked in on Wednesdays, when his
+calculations had convinced him that his friends, not having arrived by one
+train, could not be expected for several hours. But to-day he did not
+come, to-day when Vjera would have given heaven and earth for a sight of
+him. Never, in her short life, had she realised how slowly the hours could
+limp along from sunrise to noon, from noon to sunset, never had the little
+spot of sunlight which appeared in the back-shop on fine afternoons taken
+so long to crawl its diagonal course from the left front-leg of Dumnoff's
+table, where it made its appearance, to the right-hand corner of her own,
+at which point it suddenly went out and was seen no more, being probably
+intercepted by some fixed object outside.
+
+Time is the measure of most unhapppiness, for it is in sorrow and anxiety
+that we are most keenly conscious of it, and are oppressed by its leaden
+weight. When we are absorbed in work, in study, in the production of
+anything upon which all our faculties are concentrated, we say that the
+time passes quickly. When we are happy we know nothing of time nor of its
+movement, only, long afterwards, we look back, and we say, "How short the
+hours seemed then!"
+
+Vjera toiled on and on, watching the creeping sunshine on the floor,
+glancing at the ever-increasing heap of cut leaves that fell from the
+Cossack's cutting-block, noting the slow rise in the pile of paper shells
+before her and comparing it with that produced by the girl at her elbow,
+longing for the moment when she would see the freshly-made cigarettes just
+below the inner edge of Dumnoff's basket, taking account of every little
+thing by which to persuade herself that the day was declining and the
+evening at hand.
+
+Her life was sad and monotonous enough at the best of times. It seemed as
+though the accidents of the night had made it by contrast ten times more
+sad and monotonous and hopeless than before.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+The Count, as Vjera supposed, had dressed himself with even greater care
+than usual in anticipation of the official visit, and while she was
+working through the never-ending hours of her weary day, he was calmly
+seated upon a chair by the open window in his little room, one leg crossed
+over the other, one hand thrust into the bosom of his coat and the other
+extended idly upon the table by his side. His features expressed the
+perfect calm and satisfaction of a man who knows that something very
+pleasant is about to happen, who has prepared himself for it, and who sits
+in the midst of his swept and garnished dwelling in an attitude of pleased
+expectancy.
+
+The Count's face was tired, indeed, and there were dark circles under his
+sunken grey eyes, brought there by loss of sleep as much as by an habitual
+facility for forgetting to eat and drink. But in the eyes themselves there
+was a bright, unusual light, as though some brilliant spectacle were
+reflected in them out of the immediate future. There was colour, too, in
+his lean cheeks, a slight flush like that which comes into certain dark
+faces with the anticipation of any keen pleasure. As he sat in his chair,
+he looked constantly at the door of the room, as though expecting it to
+open at any moment. From time to time, voices and footsteps were heard on
+the stairs, far below. When any of these sounds reached him, the Count
+rose gravely from his seat, and stood in the middle of the room, slowly
+rubbing his hands together, listening again, moving a step to the one side
+or the other and back again, in the mechanical manner of a person to whom
+a visitor has been announced and who expects to see him appear almost
+immediately. But the footsteps echoed and died away and the voices were
+still again. The Count stood still a few moments when this happened,
+satisfying himself that he had been mistaken, and then, shaking his head
+and once more passing his hands round each other, he resumed his seat and
+his former attitude. He listened also for the chiming of the hours, and
+when he was sure that an hour had passed since the arrival of his
+imaginary express train, he rose again, looked out of the window, watched
+the wheeling of the house swallows, and assumed an air of momentary
+indifference. The next ringing of the clock bells revived the illusion.
+Another train was doubtless just running in to the station, and in a
+quarter of an hour his friends might be with him. There was no time to be
+lost. The flush returned to his cheeks as he hastily combed his smooth
+hair for the twentieth time, examining his appearance minutely in the
+dingy, spotted mirror, brushing his clothes--far too well brushed these
+many years--and lastly making sure that there was no weak point in the
+adjustment of his false collar. He made another turn of inspection round
+his little room, feeling sure that there was just time to see that all was
+right and in order, but already beginning to listen for a noise of
+approaching people on the stairs. Once more he straightened and arranged
+the patched coverlet of Turkey red cotton upon the bed, so that it should
+hide the pillows and the sheets; once more he adjusted the clean towel
+neatly upon the wooden peg over the washing-stand, discreetly concealing
+the one he had used in the drawer of the table; for the last time he made
+sure that the chair which had the broken leg was in such close and perfect
+contact with the wall as to make it safely serviceable if not rashly
+removed into a wider sphere of action. Then, as he passed the chest of
+drawers, he gave a final touch to the half-dozen ragged-edged books which
+composed his library--three volumes of Puschkin, of three different
+editions, Ivan Kryloff's _Poems and Fables_, Gogol's _Terrible Revenge_,
+Tolstoi's _How People Live_, and two or three more, including Koltsoff,
+the shepherd poet, and an ancient guide to the city of Kiew--as
+heterogeneous a collection of works as could be imagined, yet all notable
+in their way, except, indeed, the guide-book, for beauty, power, or
+touching truth.
+
+And when he had touched and straightened everything in the room, he
+returned to his seat, calmly expectant as ever, to wait for the footsteps
+on the stairs, to rise and rub his hands, if the sound reached him, to
+shake his head gravely if he were again disappointed, in short to go
+through the same little round of performance as before until some chiming
+clock suggested to his imagination that the train had come and brought no
+one, and that he might enjoy an interval of distraction in looking out of
+the window until the next one arrived. The Count must have had a very
+exaggerated idea of the facility of communication between Munich and
+Russia, for he assuredly stood waiting for his friends, combed, brushed,
+and altogether at his best, more than twenty times between the morning and
+the evening. As the day declined, indeed, his imaginary railway station
+must have presented a scene of dangerous confusion, for his international
+express trains seemed to come in quicker and quicker succession, until he
+barely had time to look out of the window before it became necessary to
+comb his hair again in order to be ready for the next possible arrival. At
+last he walked perpetually on a monotonous beat from the window to the
+mirror, from the mirror to the door, and from the door to the mirror
+again.
+
+Suddenly he stopped and tapped his forehead with his hand. The sun was
+setting and the last of his level rays shot over the sea of roofs and the
+forest of chimneys and entered the little room in a broad red stream,
+illuminating the lean, nervous figure as it stood still in the ruddy
+light.
+
+"Good Heavens!" exclaimed the Count, in a tone of great anxiety, "I have
+forgotten Fischelowitz and his money."
+
+There was a considerable break in the continuity of the imaginary
+time-table, for he stood still a long time, in deep thought. He was
+arguing the case in his mind. What he had promised was, to consider the
+fifty marks as a debt of honour. Now a debt of honour must be paid within
+twenty-four hours. No doubt, thought the Count, it would not be altogether
+impossible to consider the twenty-four hours as extending from midnight to
+midnight. The Russians have an expression which means a day and a night
+together--they call that space of time the sutki, and it is a more or less
+elastic term, as we say "from day to day," "from one evening to another."
+Rooms in Russian hotels are let by the sutki, railway tickets are valid
+for one or more sutki, and the Count might have chosen to consider that
+his sutki extended from the time when he had spoken to Fischelowitz until
+twelve o'clock on the following night. But he had no means of knowing
+exactly what the time had been when he had been in the shop, and his
+punctilious ideas of honour drove him to under-estimate the number of
+hours still at his disposal. Moreover, and this last consideration
+determined his action, if he brought the money too late it was to be
+feared that Fischelowitz would have shut up the shop, after which there
+would be no certainty of finding him. The Count wished to make the
+restitution of the money in Akulina's presence, but he was also determined
+to give the fifty marks directly to the tobacconist.
+
+He saw that the sun was going down, and that there was no time to be lost.
+It occurred to him at the same instant that if he was to pay the debt at
+all, he must find money for that purpose, and although, in his own belief,
+he was to be master of a large fortune in the course of the evening, no
+scheme for raising so considerable a sum as fifty marks presented itself
+to his imagination. Poor as he was, he was far more used to lending than
+to borrowing, and more accustomed to giving than to either. He regretted,
+now, that he had bound himself to pay the debt to-day. It would have been
+so easy to name the next day but one. But who could have foreseen that his
+friends would miss that particular train and only arrive late in the
+evening?
+
+He paced his room in growing anxiety, his trouble increasing in exact
+proportion with the decrease of the daylight.
+
+"Fifty marks!" he exclaimed, in dismay, as he realised more completely the
+dilemma in which he was placed. "Fifty marks! It is an enormous sum to
+find at a moment's notice. If they had only telegraphed me a credit at
+once, I could have got it from a bank--a bank--yes--but they do not know
+me. That is it. They do not know me. And then, it is late."
+
+The drops of perspiration stood on his pale forehead as he began to walk
+again. He glanced at his possessions and turned from the contemplation of
+them in renewed despair. Many a time, before, he had sought among his very
+few belongings for some object upon which a pawnbroker might advance five
+marks, and he had sought in vain. The furniture of the room was not his,
+and beyond the furniture the room contained little enough. He had parted
+long ago with an old silver watch, of which the chain had even sooner
+found its way to the lender's. A long-cherished ring had disappeared last
+winter, by an odd coincidence, at the very time when Johann Schmidt's
+oldest child was lying ill with diphtheria. As for clothing, he had
+nothing to offer. The secrets of his outward appearance were known to him
+alone, but they were of a nature to discourage the hope of raising money
+on coat or trousers. A few well-thumbed volumes of Russian authors could
+not be expected to find a brilliant sale in Munich at a moment's notice.
+He looked about, and he saw that there was nothing, and he turned very
+pale.
+
+"And yet, before midnight, it must be paid," he said. Then his face
+brightened again. "Before midnight--but they will be here before then, of
+course. Perhaps I may borrow the money for a few hours."
+
+But in order to do this, or to attempt it, he must go out. What if his
+friends arrived at the moment when he was out of the house?
+
+"No," he said, consulting his imaginary time-table, "there is no train
+now, for a couple of hours, at least."
+
+He took up his hat and turned to go. It struck him, however, that to
+provide against all possible accidents it would be as well to leave some
+written word upon his table, and he took up a sheet of writing paper and a
+pen. It was remarkable that there was a good supply of the former on the
+table, and that the inkstand contained ink in a fluid state, as though the
+Count were in the habit of using it daily. He wrote rapidly, in Russian.
+
+"This line is to inform you that Count Skariatine is momentarily absent
+from his lodging on a matter of urgent importance, connected with a
+personal engagement. He will return as soon as possible and requests that
+you will have the goodness to wait, if you should happen to arrive while
+he is out."
+
+He set the piece of notepaper upright, in a prominent position upon the
+table, and exactly opposite to the door. He did not indeed recollect that
+in the course of half an hour the room would be quite dark, and he was
+quite satisfied that he had taken every reasonable precaution against
+missing his visitors altogether. Once more he seized his hat, and a moment
+later he was descending the long flights of stairs towards the street. As
+he went, the magnitude of the sum of money he needed appalled him, and by
+the time he stepped out upon the pavement into the fresh evening air, he
+was in a state of excitement and anxiety which bordered on distraction.
+His brain refused to act any longer, and he was utterly incapable of
+thinking consecutively of anything, still less of solving a problem so
+apparently incapable of solution as was involved in the question of
+finding fifty marks at an hour's notice. It was practically of little use
+to repeat the words "Fifty marks" incessantly and in an audible voice, to
+the great surprise of the few pedestrians he met. It was far from likely
+that any of them would consider themselves called upon to stop in their
+walk and to produce two large gold pieces and a small one, for the benefit
+of an odd-looking stranger. And yet, as he hurried along the street, the
+poor Count had not the least idea where he was going, and if he should
+chance to reach any definite destination in his erratic course he would
+certainly be much puzzled to decide what he was to do upon his arrival.
+The one thing which remained clearly defined in his shaken intelligence
+was that he must pay to Fischelowitz the money promised within the limit
+of time agreed upon, or be disgraced for ever in his own eyes, as well as
+in the estimation of the world at large. The latter catastrophe would be
+bad enough, but nothing short of self-destruction could follow upon his
+condemnation of himself.
+
+A special Providence is said to watch over the movements of madmen,
+sleep-walkers and drunkards. Those who find difficulty in believing in the
+direct intervention of Heaven in very trivial matters of everyday life,
+are satisfied to put a construction of less tremendous import upon the
+facts in cases concerning the preservation of their irresponsible
+brethren. A great deal may be accounted for by considering what are the
+instincts of the body when momentarily liberated from the directing
+guidance of the mind. It has been already noticed in the course of this
+story that, when the Count did not know where he was going, he was
+generally making the best of his way to the establishment in which so much
+of his time was passed. This is exactly what took place on the present
+occasion. Conscious only of his debt, and not knowing where to find money
+with which to pay it, he was unwittingly hurrying towards the very place
+in which the payment was to be made, and, within a quarter of an hour of
+his leaving his lodging, he found himself standing on the pavement, over
+against the tobacconist's shop, stupidly gazing at the glass door, the
+well-known sign and the familiar, dilapidated chalet of cigarettes which
+held a prominent place in the show window. No longer ago than yesterday
+afternoon the little Swiss cottage had been flanked by the Wiener Gigerl,
+whose smart red coat and insolent face had been the cause of so much
+disaster and anxiety during the past twenty-four hours. The very fact that
+the doll was no longer there, in its accustomed place, served to remind
+the Count of his rash promise to pay the money and dangerously increased
+the excitement which already possessed him. He wiped the cold drops from
+his brow and leaned for a moment against the brick wall behind him. He was
+dizzy, confused and tired.
+
+The tormenting thought that was driving him recalled his failing
+consciousness of outer things. He straightened himself again and made a
+step forward, as though he would cross the street, but paused again before
+his foot had left the pavement. Then he asked of his senses how he had got
+to the place where he stood. He did not remember traversing the familiar
+highways and byways by which he was accustomed daily to make his way from
+his lodging to the shop. Every object on the way had long been so well
+known to him as to cause a permanent impression in his brain, which was
+distinctly visible to him whenever he thought of the walk in any way,
+whether he had just been over the ground or not. He could not now account
+to himself for his being so near Fischelowitz's shop, and he found it
+impossible to decide whether he had come thither by his usual route or
+not. It was still harder to explain the reason for his coming, since the
+fifty marks were no nearer to his hand than before, and without them it
+was useless to think of entering. As he stood there, hesitating and trying
+to grasp the situation more clearly, it grew, on the contrary, more and
+more confused. At the same time the bells of a neighbouring church struck
+the hour, and the clanging tone revived in his mind the other impression,
+which had possessed it all day, the impression that his friends were at
+that moment arriving at the railway station. The confusion in his thoughts
+became intolerable, and he covered his eyes with one hand, steadying
+himself by pressing the other against the wall.
+
+He did not know how long he had stood thus, when an anxious voice recalled
+him to outer things--a voice in which love, sympathy, tenderness and
+anxiety for him had taken possession of the weak tones and lent them a
+passing thrill of touching music.
+
+"In Heaven's name--what is it? Speak to me--I am Vjera--here, beside you."
+
+He looked up suddenly, and seemed to recover his self-possession.
+
+"You came just in time, Vjera--God bless you. I--" he hesitated. "I
+think--I must have been a little dizzy with the heat. It is a warm
+evening--a very warm evening."
+
+He pressed an old silk pocket-handkerchief to his moist brow, the
+pocket-handkerchief which he always had about him, freshly ironed and
+smoothly folded, on the day when he expected his friends. Vjera, her face
+pale with distress, passed her arm through his and made as though she
+would walk with him down the gentle slope of the street, which leads in
+the direction of the older city. He suffered himself to be led a few steps
+in silence.
+
+"Where are you going, Vjera?" he asked, stopping again and looking into
+her face.
+
+"Wherever you like," she said, trying to speak cheerfully. She saw that
+something terrible was happening, and it was only by a desperate effort
+that she controlled the violent hysterical emotion that rose like a great
+lump in her throat.
+
+"Ah, that is it, Vjera," he answered. "That is it. Where shall I go,
+child?" Then he laughed nervously. "The fact is," he continued, "that I am
+in a very absurd position. I do not at all know what to do."
+
+Perhaps he had tried to give himself courage by the attempt to laugh, but,
+in that case, he had failed for the present. In spite of his words his
+despair was evident. His usually erect carriage was gone. His head sank
+wearily forward, his shoulders rounded themselves as though under a
+burden, his feet dragged a little as he tried to walk on again, and he
+leaned heavily on the young girl's arm.
+
+"What is it?" she asked. "Tell me--perhaps I can help you--I mean--I beg
+your pardon," she added, humbly, "perhaps it would help you to speak of
+it. That sometimes makes things seem clearer just when they have been most
+confused."
+
+"Perhaps so, Vjera, perhaps so. You are a very good girl, and you came
+just in time. I love you, Vjera--do not forget that I love you." His voice
+was by turns sharp and suddenly low and monotonous, like that of a man
+talking in sleep. Altogether his manner was so strange that poor Vjera
+feared the very worst. The extremity of her anxiety kept her from losing
+her self-possession. For the first time in her life she felt that she was
+the stronger of the two, and that if he was to be saved it must be by her
+efforts rather than by anything he was now able to do for himself. She
+loved him, mad or sane, with an admiration and a devotion which took no
+account of his intellectual state except to grieve over it for his own
+sake. The belief that in this crisis she might be of use to him, strongly
+conquered the rising hysterical passion, and drove the tears so far from
+her eyes that she wondered vaguely why she had been so near to shedding
+them a few moments sooner. She pressed his arm with her hand.
+
+"And I, too, I love you, with all my heart and soul," she said. "And if
+you will tell me what has happened, I will do what I can--if it were my
+life that were needed. I know I can help you, for God will help me."
+
+He raised his head a little and again stood still, gazing into her eyes
+with an odd sort of childish wonder.
+
+"What makes you so strong, Vjera? You used to be a weak little thing."
+
+"Love," she answered.
+
+It was strange to see such a man, outwardly lean, tough-looking, well put
+together and active, though not, indeed, powerful, looking at the poor
+white-faced girl and asking the secret of her strength, as though he
+envied it. But at that moment, the natural situation was reversed. His
+eyes were lustreless, tired, without energy. Hers were suddenly bright and
+flashing with determination, and with the expression of her new-found
+will. Vjera felt that all at once a change had come over her, the weak
+strings of her heart grew strong, the dreamy hopelessness of her thoughts
+fell away, leaving one clearly defined resolution in its place. The man
+she loved was going mad, and she would save him, cost what it might.
+
+That Faith, no larger than the tiniest mustard seed, but able to toss the
+mountains, as pebbles, from their foundations into the sea, is the
+determination to do the thing chosen to be done or to die--literally, to
+die--in the trying to do it. Death is farther from most of us than we
+fancy, and if we would but risk all, to win or lose all, we could almost
+always do the deed which looks so grimly impossible. Those who have faced
+great physical dangers, or who have been matched by fate against
+overwhelming odds of anxiety and trouble, alone know what great things are
+done when men stand at bay and face the world, and fate, and life, and
+death and misfortune, all banded together against them, and say in their
+hearts, "We will win this fight or die." Then, at that word, when it is
+spoken earnestly, in sincerity and truth, the iron will rises up and takes
+possession of the feeble body, the doubting soul shakes off its hesitating
+weakness, is drawn back upon itself like a strong bow bent double, is
+compressed and full of a terrible latent power, like the handful of deadly
+explosive which, buried in the bosom of the rock, will presently shake the
+mighty cliff to its roots, as no thunderbolt could shake it.
+
+Vjera had made up her mind that she would save the man she loved from the
+destruction which was coming upon him. How he was to be saved, she knew
+not, but then and there, on the pavement of the commonplace Munich street,
+she made her stand and faced the odds, as bravely as ever soldier faced
+the enemy's triumphant charge, though she was only a forlorn little Polish
+shell-maker, without much health or strength, and having very little
+understanding of the danger beyond that which was given to her by her
+love.
+
+She fixed her eyes upon the Count's face as though she would have him obey
+her.
+
+"I will help you, and make everything right," she said. "But you must tell
+me what the trouble is."
+
+"But how can you help me, child?" he asked, beginning to grow calmer under
+her clear gaze. "It is such a very complicated case," he continued,
+falling back gradually into his own natural manner. "You see, my friends
+have probably arrived by this train, and yet I cannot go home until I have
+set this other matter right with Fischelowitz. It is true, I have left a
+word written for them on my table, and perhaps they are there now, waiting
+for me, and if I went home I could have the money at once. But then--it
+may be too late before I get here again--"
+
+"What money?" asked Vjera, anxious to get at the truth without delay.
+
+"Oh, it is an absurd thing," he answered, growing nervous again. "Quite
+absurd--and yet, it is fifty marks--and until they come, I do not see what
+to do. Fifty marks--to-day it seems so much, and to-morrow it will seem so
+little!" He made a poor attempt to smile, but his voice trembled.
+
+"But these fifty marks--what do you need them for to-night?" Vjera asked,
+not understanding at all. "Will not to-morrow do as well?"
+
+"No, no!" he cried in renewed anxiety. "It must be to-night, now, this
+very hour. If I do not pay the money, I am ruined, Vjera, disgraced for
+ever. It is a debt of honour--you do not understand what that means,
+child, nor how terrible it is for a man not to pay before the day is
+over--ah, if it were not a debt of honour!--but there is no time to be
+lost. It is almost dark already. Go home, dear Vjera, go home. I cannot go
+with you to-night, for I must find this money. Good-night--and then
+to-morrow--I have not forgotten, and you must not forget--but there is no
+time now--good-night!"
+
+He suddenly broke away from her side and began walking quickly in the
+opposite direction, his head bent down, his arms swinging by his side. She
+ran after him and again took his arm, and looked into his face.
+
+"You must not go away like this," she said, so firmly and with so much
+authority that he stood still. "You have only half explained the trouble
+to me, but I can help you. A debt of honour, you say--what will happen if
+you do not pay it?"
+
+"I must die," answered the Count. "I could never respect myself again."
+
+"You have borrowed this money of Fischelowitz and promised to pay it
+to-day? Is that it? Tell me."
+
+"No--I never borrowed it. No, no--it was that villain, last winter, who
+gave him the Gigerl--"
+
+"And Fischelowitz expects you to pay that!" cried Vjera, indignantly. "It
+is impossible."
+
+"When I took the Gigerl away last night I promised to bring the fifty
+marks by to-night. I gave my word, my word as a gentleman, Vjera, which I
+cannot break--my word, as a gentleman," he repeated with something of his
+old dignity.
+
+"It is monstrous that Fischelowitz should have taken such a promise," said
+Vjera.
+
+"That does not alter the obligation," answered the Count proudly.
+"Besides, I gave it of my own accord. I did not wait for him to ask it,
+after his wife accused me of being the means of his losing the money."
+
+"Oh, how could she be so heartless!" Vjera exclaimed.
+
+"What was the use of telling you? I did not mean to. Good-night, Vjera
+dear--I must be quick." He tried to leave her, but she held him fast.
+
+"I will get you the money at once," she said desperately and without the
+least hesitation. He started, in the utmost astonishment, staring at her
+as though he fancied that she had lost her senses.
+
+"You! Why, Vjera, how can you imagine that I would take it from you, or
+how do you think it would be possible for you to find it? You are mad, my
+dear child, quite mad!"
+
+In spite of everything, the tears broke from her eyes at the words which
+meant so much to her and which seemed to mean so little to him. But she
+brushed them bravely away.
+
+"You say you love me--you know that I love you. Do you trust me? Do you
+believe in me? And if you do, why then believe that I will do what I say.
+And as for taking the fifty marks from me--will not your friends be here
+to-night, as you say, and will you not be able to give it all back very
+soon? Only wait here--or no, go into the shop and talk to Fischelowitz--I
+will bring it to you in less than an hour, I promise you that I will--"
+
+"But how? Oh, Vjera--I am in such trouble that I could almost bring myself
+to borrow it of you if you could lend it--I despise myself, but it is
+growing so late, and it will only be until to-morrow, only for a few hours
+perhaps. If you will wait to-night I may bring it to you before bedtime.
+But--are you sure, Vjera? Have you really got it? If I should wait
+here--and you should not find it--and my word should be broken--"
+
+"For your word I give you mine. You shall have it in an hour." She tried
+to throw so much certainty into her tone as might persuade him, and she
+succeeded. "Where will you wait for me? In the shop?" she asked.
+
+"No--not there. In the Cafe here--I am tired--I will sit down and drink a
+cup of coffee. I think I have a little money--enough for that." He smiled
+faintly as he felt in his pockets. Then his face fell. On the previous
+evening, when they had led him away from the eating-house, he had
+carelessly given all he had--a mark and two pennies--to pay for his
+supper, throwing it to the fat hostess without any reckoning, as he went
+out. "Never mind," he said, after the fruitless search. "I will wait
+outside."
+
+But Vjera thrust a silver piece into his hand and was gone before he could
+protest. And in this way she took upon herself the burden of the Count's
+debt of honour.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Vjera turned her head when she had reached the corner of the street, and
+saw that the Count had disappeared. He had entered the Cafe, and had
+evidently accepted her assurance that she would bring the money without
+delay. So far, at least, she had been successful. Though by far the most
+difficult portion of the enterprise lay before her, she was convinced that
+if she could really produce the fifty marks, the approaching catastrophe
+of total madness would be averted. Her determination was still so strong
+that she never doubted the possibility of performing her promise. Without
+hesitation, she returned to the shop, in search of Johann Schmidt, to
+whose energies and kindness she instinctively turned for counsel and help.
+As she came to the door she saw that he was just bidding good-night to his
+employer. She waited a moment and met him on the pavement as he came out.
+
+"I must have fifty marks in an hour, Herr Schmidt," she said, boldly. "If
+I do not get it, something dreadful will happen."
+
+"Fifty marks!" exclaimed the Cossack in a tone of amazement. If she had
+said fifty millions, the shock to his financial sense could not have been
+more severe. "It is an enormous sum," he said, slowly, while she fixed her
+eyes upon him, waiting for his answer. "What is the matter, Vjera? Have
+you not been able to pay your rent this year, and has old Homolka
+threatened to turn you out?"
+
+"Oh no! It is worse than that, far worse than that! If it were only
+myself--" she hesitated.
+
+"What is it? Who is it? Perhaps it is not so serious as you think. Tell me
+all about it."
+
+"There is very little time--only an hour. He is going mad--really mad,
+Herr Schmidt, because he has given his word of honour to pay Herr
+Fischelowitz that money this evening. I only calmed him, by promising to
+bring the money at once."
+
+"You promised that?" exclaimed Schmidt. "It was a very wild promise--"
+
+"I will keep it, and you must help me. We have an hour. If we do not
+succeed he will never be himself again."
+
+"But fifty marks!" Schmidt could not recover from his astonishment. "Oh,
+Vjera!" he exclaimed at last, in the simplicity of his heart, "how you
+must love him!"
+
+"I would do more than that--if I could," she answered. "But come, you will
+help me, will you not? I have a ten-mark piece and an old thaler put away
+at home. That makes thirteen, and two I have in my pocket, fifteen and--I
+am afraid that is all," she concluded after a slight hesitation.
+
+"And five are twenty," said the Cossack, producing the six which he had,
+and taking one silver piece out of the number to be returned to his
+pocket. The children must not starve on the morrow.
+
+"Oh, thank you, Herr Schmidt!" cried poor Vjera in a joyful voice as she
+eagerly took the proffered coins. "Twenty already! Why, twenty-five will
+be half, will it not? And I am sure that we can find the rest, then."
+
+"There is Dumnoff," said Schmidt. "He probably has something, too."
+
+"But I could not borrow of him--besides, if he knew it was for the
+Count--and he is so rough--he would not give it to us."
+
+"We shall see," answered the other, who knew his man. "Wait a moment. He
+is still inside."
+
+He re-entered the shop, where Fischelowitz and his wife were conversing
+under the gaslight.
+
+"I tell you," Akulina was saying, "that it is high time you got rid of
+him. The new workman from Vilna will take his place, and it is positively
+ridiculous to be made to submit to this madman's humours, and
+impertinence. What sort of a man are you, Christian Gregorovitch, to let
+the fellow carry off your Gigerl, with his airy promise to pay you the
+money to-day?"
+
+"The Gigerl was broken," observed the tobacconist.
+
+"Oh, it could have been mended; and if it was really stolen, was that our
+business, I would like to know? Nobody would ever have supposed, seeing it
+in our window, that it had been stolen. And it could have been mended, as
+I say, and might have been worth something after all. You never really
+tried to sell it, as you ought to have done from the very first. And now
+you have got nothing at all, nothing but that insolent maniac's promise.
+If I were you I would take the money out of his wages, I would indeed!"
+
+"No doubt you would," said Fischelowitz, with sincere conviction.
+
+Meanwhile Schmidt had gone into the back shop, where Dumnoff was still
+doggedly working, making up for the time he had lost by coming late in the
+morning. He was alone at his little table.
+
+"How much money have you got?" asked the Cossack, briefly. Dumnoff looked
+up rather stupidly, dropped the cigarette he was making, and felt in his
+pocket for his change. He produced five marks, an unusual sum for him to
+have in his possession, and which would not have found itself in his hands
+had not his arrest on the previous evening prevented his spending
+considerably more than he had spent in his favourite corn-brandy.
+
+"I want it all," said Schmidt.
+
+"You are a cool-blooded fellow," laughed Dumnoff, making as though he
+would return the coins to his pocket.
+
+"Look here, Dumnoff," answered the Cossack, his bright eyes gleaming. "I
+want that money. You know me, and you had better give it to me without
+making any trouble."
+
+Dumnoff seemed confused by the sharpness of the demand, and hesitated.
+
+"You seem in a great hurry," he said, with an awkward laugh, "I suppose
+you mean to give it back to me?"
+
+"You shall have it at the rate of a mark a day in the next five work days.
+You will get your pay this evening and that will be quite enough for you
+to get drunk with to-night."
+
+"That is true," said Dumnoff, thoughtfully. "Well, take it," he added,
+slipping the money into the other's outstretched palm.
+
+"Thank you," said the Cossack. "You are not so bad as you look, Dumnoff.
+Good-night." He was gone in a moment.
+
+Dumnoff stared at the door through which he had disappeared.
+
+"After all," he muttered, discontentedly, "he could not have taken it by
+force. I wonder why I was such a fool as to give it to him!"
+
+"I tell you," said Akulina to her husband as Schmidt passed through the
+outer shop, "that he will end by costing us so much in money lent, and
+squandered in charity, that the business will go to dust and feathers! I
+am only a weak woman, Christian Gregorovitch, but I have four children--"
+
+The Cossack heard no more, for he closed the street door behind him and
+returned to Vjera's side. She was standing as he had left her, absorbed in
+the contemplation of the financial crisis.
+
+"Five more," said he, giving her the silver. "That is one half. Now for
+the other. But are you quite sure, Vjera, that it is as bad as you think?
+I know that Fischelowitz does not in the least expect the money."
+
+"No--I daresay not. But I know this, if I had not met him just now and
+promised to bring him the fifty marks, he would have been raving mad
+before morning." Schmidt saw by her look that she was convinced of the
+fact.
+
+"Very well," he said. "I am not going to turn back now. The poor Count has
+done me many a good turn in his time, and I will do my best, though I do
+not exactly see what more I can do, at such short notice."
+
+"Have you got anything worth pawning, Herr Schmidt?" asked Vjera,
+ruthless, as devoted people can be when the object of their devotion is in
+danger.
+
+"Well--I have not much that I can spare. There is the bed--but my wife
+cannot sleep on the floor, though I would myself. And there are a few pots
+and pans in the kitchen--not worth much, and I do not know what we should
+do without them. I do not know, I am sure. I cannot take the children's
+things, Vjera, even for you."
+
+"No," said Vjera doubtfully. "I suppose not. Of course not!" she
+exclaimed, immediately afterwards, with an attempt to express conviction.
+
+"There is one thing--there is the old samovar," continued the Cossack. "It
+has a leak in one side, and we make the tea as we can, when we have any.
+But I remember that I once pawned it, years ago, for five marks."
+
+"That would make thirty," said Vjera promptly.
+
+"I do not believe they would lend so much on it now, though it is good
+metal. It is a little battered, besides being leaky."
+
+"Let us get it," said Vjera, beginning to walk briskly on. "I have
+something, too, though I do not know what it is worth. It is an old skin
+of a wolf--my father killed it inside the village, just before we came
+away."
+
+"A wolf skin!" exclaimed Schmidt. "That may be worth something, if it is
+good."
+
+"I am afraid it is not very good," answered Vjera doubtfully. "The hair
+comes out. I think it must have been a mangy wolf. And there is a bad hole
+on one side."
+
+"It was probably badly cured," said the Cossack, who understood furs. "But
+I can mend the hole in five minutes, so that nobody will see it."
+
+"We will get it, too. But I am afraid that it will not be nearly enough to
+make up the twenty-five marks. They could not possibly give us twenty
+marks for the skin, could they?"
+
+"No, indeed, unless you could sell it to some one who does not understand
+those things. And the samovar will not bring five, as I said. We must find
+something else."
+
+"Let us get the samovar first," said Vjera decisively. "I will wait
+downstairs till you get it, and then you will wait for me where I live,
+and after that we will go together. I may find something else. Indeed, I
+must, or we shall not have enough."
+
+They walked rapidly through the deepening shadows towards Schmidt's home.
+Vjera moved, as people do, who are possessed by an idea which must be put
+into immediate execution, her head high, her eyes full of light, her lips
+set, her step firm. Her companion was surprised to find that he needed to
+walk fast in order to keep by her side. He looked at her often, as he had
+looked all day, with an expression that showed at once much interest,
+considerable admiration and some pity. If he had not been lately brought
+to some new opinion concerning the girl he would certainly not have
+entered into her wild scheme for calming the Count's excitement without at
+least arguing the case lengthily, and discussing all the difficulties
+which presented themselves to his imagination. As it was, he felt himself
+carried away by a sort of enthusiasm in her cause, which would have led
+him to make even greater sacrifices than he had it in his power to offer.
+So strong was this feeling that he felt called upon to make a sort of
+apology.
+
+"I am sorry I cannot do more to help you," he said regretfully. "It is
+very little I know, but then, you see I am not alone in the world, Vjera.
+There are others to be thought of. And besides, I have just paid the rent,
+and there are no savings left."
+
+"Dear Herr Schmidt," answered Vjera gratefully, "you are doing too much
+already--but I cannot help taking all you give me, though I can thank you
+for it with all my heart."
+
+They did not speak again during the next few minutes, until they reached
+the door of the house in which the Cossack lived.
+
+"I shall only need a moment," he said, as he dived into the dark entrance.
+
+He lost so little time, that it seemed to Vjera as though the echo of his
+steps had not died away upon the stairs before she heard his footfall
+again as he descended. This time, however, there was a rattle and clatter
+of metal to be heard as well as his quick tread and the loud creaking of
+his coarse, stiff shoes. He emerged into the street with the body of the
+samovar under one arm. The movable brass chimney of the machine was
+sticking out of one of his pockets, and in his left hand he had its little
+tray, with the rings and other pieces belonging to the whole. Amongst
+those latter objects, which he grasped tightly in his fingers, there
+figured also the fragment of a small spoon of which the bowl had been
+broken from the handle.
+
+"It is silver," he said, referring to the latter utensil, as he held up
+the whole handful before Vjera's eyes. "But if we can find a jeweller's
+shop open, we will sell it. We can get more for it in that way. And now
+your wolf's skin, Vjera. And be sure to bring me a needle and some strong
+thread when you come down. I can mend the hole by the gaslight in the
+street, for Homolka would not understand it if he saw me going to your
+room, you know."
+
+She helped him to put all the smaller things into his pockets, so that he
+had only the samovar itself, and its metal tray to carry in his hands, and
+then they went briskly on towards Vjera's lodging.
+
+"Do you think we shall get three marks for the little spoon?" she asked,
+constantly preoccupied by her calculations.
+
+"Oh yes," Schmidt answered cheerfully. "We may get five. It is good
+silver, and they buy silver by weight."
+
+A few moments later she stood still before a narrow shop which was lighted
+within, though there was no lamp in the windows. It was that of a small
+watchmaker and jeweller, and a few silver watches and some cheap chains
+and trinkets were visible behind the glass pane.
+
+"Perhaps he may buy the spoon," suggested Vjera, anxious to lose no time.
+
+Without a word Schmidt entered the shop, while the girl stood outside. In
+less than five minutes he came out again with something in his hand.
+
+"Three and a half," he said, handing her the money.
+
+"I had hoped it would be worth more," she answered, putting the coins with
+the rest.
+
+"No. He weighed it with silver marks. It weighed just four of them, and he
+said he must have half a mark to make it worth his while."
+
+"Very well," said Vjera, "it is always something. I have twenty-eight and
+a half now."
+
+When they reached her lodging Schmidt set down the samovar upon the
+pavement and made himself a cigarette, while he waited for her. She was
+gone a long time, as it seemed to him, and he was beginning to wonder
+whether anything had happened, when she suddenly made her appearance,
+noiseless in her walk, as always. The old wolf's skin was hung over one
+shoulder, and she carried besides a limp-looking brown paper parcel, tied
+with a bit of folded ribband. As he caught sight of her face in the light
+of the street lamp, Schmidt fancied that she was paler than before, and
+that her cheek was wet.
+
+"I am sorry I was so long," she said. "The little sister cried because I
+would not stay, and I had to quiet her. Here is the skin. Do you see? I am
+afraid this is a very big hole--and the hair comes out in handfuls. Look
+at it."
+
+"It was a very old wolf," remarked the Cossack, holding the skin up under
+the gaslight.
+
+"Does that make it worth less?" asked Vjera anxiously.
+
+"Not of itself; on the contrary. And I can mend the hole, if you have the
+thread and needle. The worst thing about it all is the way the hairs fall
+out. I am afraid the moths have been at it, Vjera." He shook his head
+gravely. "I am afraid the moths have done a great deal of damage."
+
+"Oh, if I had only known--I would have been so careful! And to think that
+it might have been worth something."
+
+"It is worth something as it is, but at the pawnbroker's they will not
+lend much on it." He took the threaded needle, which she had not
+forgotten, and sitting down upon the edge of the pavement spread the skin
+upon his knees with the fur downwards. Then he quickly began to draw the
+hole together, sewing it firmly with the furrier's cross stitch, and so
+neatly that the seam looked like a single straight line on the side of the
+leather, while it was quite invisible in the fur on the other.
+
+"What is the other thing you have brought?" he inquired without looking up
+from his work. The light was bad, and he had to bend his eyes close to the
+sewing.
+
+"It is something I may be able to sell," said Vjera in a rather unsteady
+voice.
+
+"Silver?" asked Schmidt, cheerfully.
+
+"Oh no--not silver--something dearer," she said, almost under her breath.
+"I am afraid it is very hard for you to see," she added quickly,
+attempting to avoid his questions. "Do you not think that I could hold a
+match for you, to make a little more light? You always have some with
+you."
+
+"Wait a moment--yes--I have almost finished the seam--here is the box.
+Now, if you can hold the match just there, just over the needle, and keep
+it from going out, I can finish the end off neatly."
+
+Vjera knelt down beside him and held the flickering bit of wood as well as
+she was able. They made a strange picture, out in the unfrequented street,
+the dim glare of the gaslight above them, and the redder flame of the
+match making odd tints and shadows in their faces. Vjera's shawl had
+slipped back from her head and her thick tress of red-brown hair had found
+its way over her shoulder. An artist, strolling supperwards from his
+studio, came down their side of the way. He stopped and looked at them.
+
+"Has anything happened?" he asked kindly. "Can I be of any use?"
+
+Vjera looked up with a frightened glance. The Cossack paid no attention to
+the stranger.
+
+"Oh no, thank you--thank you, sir, it is nothing--only a little piece of
+work to finish."
+
+The artist gave one more look and passed on, wishing that he could have
+had pencil and paper and light at his command for five minutes.
+
+"There," said Schmidt triumphantly. "It is done, and very well done. And
+now for the pawn-shop, Vjera!"
+
+Vjera took the skin over her arm and her companion picked up the samovar
+with its tray, and they moved on again. Vjera's face was pale and sad, but
+she seemed more confident of success than ever, and her step was elastic
+and hopeful. Johann Schmidt's curiosity was very great, as has been seen
+on previous occasions. He did his best to control it, for some time, only
+trying to guess from the general appearance of the limp parcel what it
+might contain. But his ingenuity failed to solve the problem. At last he
+could bear it no longer. They were entering the street where the
+pawnbroker's shop was situated when his resolution broke down.
+
+"Is it a piece of lace?" he asked at a venture. "If it is, you know, and
+if it is good, it may be worth all the other things together."
+
+"No. It is not a piece of lace," answered the girl. "I will tell you what
+it is, if we do not get enough without it."
+
+"I only thought," explained the Cossack, "that if we were going to try and
+pawn it, I had better know--"
+
+"We cannot pawn it," said Vjera decisively. "It will have to be sold. Let
+us go in together." She spoke the last words as they reached the door of
+the pawn-shop.
+
+"I could save you the trouble," Schmidt suggested, offering to take the
+wolf's skin. But Vjera would not give it up. She felt that she must see
+everything done herself, if only to distract her thoughts from more
+painful matters.
+
+The place was half full of people, most of them with anxious faces, and
+all having some object or other in their hands. The pawn-shops do their
+best business in the evening. A man and a woman, both advanced in middle
+age, well fed, parsimoniously washed and possessing profiles of an outline
+disquieting to Christian prejudices, leaned over the counter, handled the
+articles offered them, consulted each other in incomprehensible
+monosyllables, talked volubly to the customers in oily undertones and from
+time to time counted out small doses of change which they gave to the
+eager recipients, accompanied by little slips of paper on which there were
+both printed and written words. The room was warm and redolent of poverty.
+A broad flame of gas burned, without a shade, over the middle of the
+counter.
+
+In spite of their unctuous tones the Hebrew and his wife did their
+business rapidly, with sharpness and decision. Either one of them would
+have undertaken to name the precise pawning value of anything on earth
+and, possibly, of most things in heaven, provided that the universe were
+brought piecemeal to their counter. Both Vjera and Schmidt had been made
+acquainted by previous necessities with the establishment. Vjera held her
+paper parcel in her hand. The other things were laid together upon the
+counter. The Hebrew woman glanced at the samovar, felt the weight of it
+and turned it once round.
+
+"Leaky," she observed in her smooth voice. "Old brass. One mark and a
+half." Her husband put out his hand, touched the machine, lifted it, and
+nodded.
+
+"Only a mark and a half!" exclaimed Vjera. "And the skin, how much for
+that?"
+
+"It is a genuine Russian wolf," Schmidt put in. "And it is very large."
+
+"Moth-eaten," said the Jewess. "And there is a hole in the side. Five
+marks."
+
+Schmidt held the fur up to the light and blew into it with a professional
+air, as furriers do.
+
+"Look at that!" he cried, persuasively. "Why, it is worth twenty!"
+
+The Hebrew lady, instead of answering extended a fat thumb and a plump,
+pointed forefinger, and pinching a score of hairs between the two, pulled
+them out without effort, and then held them close to the Cossack's eyes.
+
+"Five marks," she repeated, getting the money out and preparing to fill in
+a couple of pawn-tickets.
+
+"Make it ten, with the samovar!" entreated Vjera. The Jewess smiled.
+
+"Do you think the samovar is of gold?" she inquired. "Six and a half for
+the two. Take it or leave it."
+
+Vjera looked at Schmidt anxiously as though to ask his opinion.
+
+"They will not give more," he said, in Russian.
+
+The girl took the money and the flimsy tickets and they went out into the
+street. Vjera hesitated as to the direction she should take, and Schmidt
+looked to her as though awaiting her orders.
+
+"Twenty-eight and a half and six and a half are thirty-five," she said,
+thoughtfully. "And we have nothing more to give, but this. I must sell it,
+Herr Schmidt."
+
+"Well, what is it?" he asked, glad to know the secret at last.
+
+"It is my mother's hair. She cut it off herself when she knew she was
+dying and she told me to sell it if ever I needed a little money."
+
+The girl's voice trembled violently, and she turned her head away. Schmidt
+was silent and very grave. Then Vjera began to move on again, clutching
+the precious thing to her bosom and drawing her shawl over it.
+
+"The best man for this lives in the Maffei Strasse," said Schmidt after a
+few minutes.
+
+"Show me the way." Vjera turned as he directed. At that moment she would
+have lost herself in the familiar streets, had he not been there to guide
+her.
+
+The hairdresser's shop was brilliantly lighted, and as good fortune would
+have it, there were no customers within. With an entreating glance which
+he obeyed, Vjera made Schmidt wait outside.
+
+"Please do not look!" she whispered. "I can bear it better alone." The
+good fellow nodded and began to walk up and down.
+
+As Vjera entered the shop, the chief barber in command waltzed forward, as
+hairdressers always seem to waltz. At the sight of the poor girl, however,
+he assumed a stern appearance which, to tell the truth, was out of
+character with his style of beauty. His rich brown locks were curled and
+anointed in a way that might have aroused envy in the heart of an Assyrian
+dandy in the palmy days of Sardanapalus.
+
+"Do you buy hair?" asked Vjera, timidly offering her limp parcel.
+
+"Oh, certainly, sometimes," answered the barber. The youth in
+attendance--the barber tadpole of the hairdresser frog--abandoned the
+cleansing of a comb and came forward with a leer, in the hope that Vjera
+might turn out to be pretty on a closer inspection. In this he was
+disappointed.
+
+The man took the parcel and laid it on one of the narrow marble tables
+placed before a mirror in a richly gilt frame. He pushed aside the blue
+glass powder-box, the vial of brilliantine and the brushes. Vjera untied
+the bit of faded ribband herself and opened the package. The contents
+exhaled a faint, sickly odour.
+
+A tress of beautiful hair, of unusual length and thickness, lay in the
+paper. The colour was that which is now so much sought after, and which
+great ladies endeavour to produce upon their own hair, when they have any,
+by washing it with extra-dry champagne, while little ladies imitate them
+with a humble solution of soda. The colour in question is a reddish-brown
+with rich golden lights in it, and it is very rare in nature.
+
+The barber eyed the thick plait with a businesslike expression.
+
+"The colour is not so bad," he remarked, as though suggesting that it
+might have been very much better.
+
+"Surely, it is very beautiful hair!" said Vjera, her heart almost breaking
+at the sight of the tenderly treasured heirloom.
+
+Suddenly the man snuffed the odour, lifted the tress to his nose, and
+smelt it. Then he laid it down again and took the thicker end, which was
+tied tightly with a ribband, in his hands, pulling at the short lengths of
+hair which projected beyond the knot. They broke very easily, with an odd,
+soft snap.
+
+"It is worth nothing at all," said the barber decisively. "It is a pity,
+for it is a very pretty colour."
+
+Vjera started, and steadied herself against the back of the professional
+chair which stood by the table.
+
+"Nothing?" she repeated, half stupid with the pain of her disappointment.
+"Nothing? not even fifteen marks?"
+
+"Nothing. It is rotten, and could not be worked. The hairs break like
+glass."
+
+Vjera pressed her left hand to her side as though something hurt her. The
+tadpole youth grinned idiotically and the barber seemed anxious to end the
+interview.
+
+With a look of broken-hearted despair the girl turned to the table and
+began to do up her parcel again. Her shawl fell to the ground as she
+moved. Then the tadpole nudged his employer and pointed at Vjera's long,
+red-brown braid, and grinned again from ear to ear.
+
+"Is it fifteen marks that you want?" asked the man.
+
+"Fifteen--yes--I must have fifteen," repeated Vjera in dull tones.
+
+"I will give it to you for your own hair," said the barber with a short
+laugh.
+
+"For my own?" cried Vjera, suddenly turning round. It had never occurred
+to her that her own tress could be worth anything. "For my own?" she
+repeated as though not believing her ears.
+
+"Yes--let me see," said the man. "Turn your head again, please. Let me
+see. Yes, yes, it is good hair of the kind, though it has not the gold
+lights in it that the other had. But, to oblige you, I will give you
+fifteen for it."
+
+"But I must have the money now," said Vjera, suspiciously. "You must give
+me the money now, to take with me. I cannot wait."
+
+The barber smiled, and produced a gold piece and five silver ones.
+
+"You may hold the money in your hand," he said, offering it to her, "while
+you sit down and I do the work."
+
+Vjera clutched the coins fiercely and placed herself in the big chair
+before the mirror. She could see in the glass that her eyes were on fire.
+The barber loosened a screw in the back of the seat and removed the block
+with the cushion, handing it to his assistant.
+
+"The scissors, and a comb, Anton," he said briskly, lifting at the same
+time the heavy tress and judging its weight. The reflection of the steel
+flashed in the mirror, as the artist quickly opened and shut the scissors,
+with that peculiar shuffling jingle which only barbers can produce.
+
+"Wait a minute!" cried Vjera, with sudden anxiety, and turning her head as
+though to draw away her hair from his grasp. "One minute--please--fifteen
+and thirty-five are really fifty, are they not?"
+
+The tadpole began to count on his fingers, whispering audibly.
+
+"Yes," answered the barber. "Fifteen and thirty-five are fifty."
+
+The tadpole desisted, having already got into mathematical difficulties in
+counting from one hand over to the other.
+
+"Then cut it off quickly, please!" said poor Vjera, settling herself in
+the chair again, and giving her head to the shears.
+
+In the silence that followed, only the soft jingle of the scissors was
+heard.
+
+"There!" exclaimed the hairdresser, holding up a hand-mirror behind her.
+"I have been generous, you see. I have not cut it very short. See for
+yourself."
+
+"Thank you," said Vjera. "You are very kind." She saw nothing, indeed, but
+she was satisfied, and rose quickly.
+
+She tied up the limp parcel with the same old piece of faded ribband, and
+a little colour suddenly came into her face as she pressed it to her
+bosom. All at once, she lost control of herself, and with a sharp sob the
+tears gushed out. She stooped a little and drew her shawl over her head to
+hide her face. The tears wet her hands and the brown paper, and fell down
+to the greasy marble floor of the shop.
+
+"It will grow again very soon," said the barber, not unkindly. He
+supposed, naturally enough, that she was weeping over her sacrifice.
+
+"Oh no! It is not that!" she cried. "I am so--so happy to have kept this!"
+Then, without another word, she slipped noiselessly out into the street,
+clasping the precious relic to her breast.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+"I have got it--I have got it all!" cried Vjera, as she came up with
+Schmidt on the pavement. His quick eye caught sight of the parcel, only
+half hidden by her shawl.
+
+"But you have brought the hair away with you," he said, in some anxiety,
+and fearing a mistake or some new trouble.
+
+"Yes," she answered. "That is the best of it." Her tears had disappeared
+as suddenly as they had come, and she could now hardly restrain the
+nervous laughter that rose to her lips.
+
+"But how is that?" asked Schmidt, stopping.
+
+"I gave them my own," she laughed, hysterically. "I gave them my
+own--instead. Quick, quick--there is no time to lose. Is it an hour yet,
+since I left him?" She ran along, and Schmidt found it hard to keep beside
+her without running, too. At last he broke into a sort of jog-trot. In
+five minutes they were at the door of the cafe.
+
+The Count was sitting at a small table near the door, an empty coffee-cup
+before him, staring with a fixed look at the opposite wall. There were few
+people in the place, as the performances at the theatres had already
+begun. Vjera entered alone.
+
+"I have brought you the money," she said, joyfully, as she stood beside
+him and laid a hand upon his arm to attract his attention, for he had not
+noticed her coming.
+
+"The money?" he said, excitedly. "The fifty marks? You have got it?"
+
+She sat down at the table, and began to count the gold and silver,
+producing it from her pocket in instalments of four or five coins, and
+making little heaps of them before him.
+
+"It is all there--every penny of it," she said, counting the piles again.
+
+The poor man's eyes seemed starting from his head, as he leaned eagerly
+forward over the money.
+
+"Is it real? Is it true?" he asked in a low voice. "Oh, Vjera, do not
+laugh at me--is it really true, child?"
+
+"Really true--fifty marks." Her pale face beamed with pleasure. "And now
+you can go and pay Fischelowitz at once," she added.
+
+But he leaned back a moment in his chair, looking at her intently. Then
+his eyes grew moist, and, when he spoke, his voice quivered.
+
+"May God forgive me for taking it of you," he said. "You have saved me,
+Vjera--saved my honour, my life--all. God bless you, dear, God bless you!
+I am very, very thankful."
+
+He put the coins carefully together and wrapped them in his silk
+handkerchief, and rose from his seat. He had already paid for his cup of
+coffee. They went out together. The Cossack had disappeared.
+
+"You have saved my life and my honour--my honour and my life," repeated
+the Count, softly and dwelling on the words in a dreamy way.
+
+"I will wait outside," said Vjera as they reached the tobacconist's shop,
+a few seconds later.
+
+The Count turned to her and laid both hands upon her shoulders, looking
+into her face.
+
+"You cannot understand what you have done for me," he said earnestly.
+
+He stooped, for he was much taller than she, and closing his tired eyes
+for a moment, he pressed his lips upon her waxen forehead. Before he had
+seen the bright blush that glowed in her cheeks, he had entered the shop.
+
+Akulina was seated in one corner, apparently in a bad humour, for her dark
+face was flushed, and her small eyes looked up savagely at the Count. Her
+husband was leaning over the counter, smoking and making a series of
+impressions in violet ink upon the back of an old letter, with an
+india-rubber stamp in which the word "Celebrated Manufactory" held a
+prominent place. He nodded familiarly.
+
+"Herr Fischelowitz," said the Count, regaining suddenly his dignity of
+manner and bearing, "in the course of the conversation last evening, I
+said that I would to-day refund the fifty marks which you once lent to
+that atrocious young man who wore green glasses. I daresay you remember
+the circumstance?"
+
+"I had quite forgotten it," said Fischelowitz. "Please do not allow it to
+trouble you, my dear Count. I never considered you responsible for it, and
+of course you cannot--"
+
+"It is a shame!" Akulina broke in, angrily. "You ought to make him pay it
+out of what he earns, since he took the Gigerl!"
+
+"Madam," said the Count, addressing her with great civility, "if it is
+agreeable to you, we will not discuss the matter. I only reminded Herr
+Fischelowitz of what took place because--"
+
+"Because you have no money--of course!" interrupted Akulina.
+
+"On the contrary, because I have brought the money, and shall be obliged
+to you if you will count it."
+
+Akulina's jaw dropped, and Fischelowitz looked up in amazement. The Count
+produced his knotted handkerchief and laid it on the table.
+
+"I only wish you to understand," he said, speaking to Akulina, "that when
+a gentleman gives his word he keeps it. Will you do me the favour to count
+the money?"
+
+"Of course, it is no business of ours to find out how he got it," observed
+Akulina, rising and coming forward.
+
+"None whatever, madam," answered the Count, spreading out the coins which
+had been collected by loving hands from so many sources. "The only
+question is, to ascertain whether there are fifty marks here or not."
+
+Fischelowitz stood looking on. He had not yet recovered from his surprise,
+and was half afraid that there might be something wrong. But the practical
+Akulina lost no time in assuring herself that the sum was complete. As she
+realised this fact, her features relaxed into a pleasant smile.
+
+"Well, Count," she said, "we are very much obliged to you for this. It is
+very honest of you, for of course, you were not exactly called upon--"
+
+"I understood you to say that I was," replied the Count, gravely.
+
+"Oh, that was yesterday, and I am very sorry if I annoyed you. But let
+bygones be bygones! I hope there is no ill-will between us?"
+
+"Oh, none at all," returned the other indifferently. "I have the honour to
+wish you a very good evening." Without waiting for more, the Count bowed
+and left the shop.
+
+"Akulina," said Fischelowitz, thoughtfully, as the door closed, "that man
+is a gentleman, say what you please."
+
+"A pretty gentleman," laughed Akulina, putting the money into the till. "A
+gentleman indeed--why, look at his coat!"
+
+"And you are a fool, Akulina," added Fischelowitz, handling his
+india-rubber stamp.
+
+"Thank you; but for my foolery you would be fifty marks poorer to-night,
+Christian Gregorovitch. A gentleman, pah!"
+
+The Count had drawn Vjera's willing arm through his, and they were walking
+slowly away together.
+
+"I must be going home," she said, reluctantly. "The little sister will be
+crying for me. I cannot leave her any longer."
+
+"Not till I have thanked you, dear," he answered, pressing her arm to his
+side. "But I will go with you to your door, and thank you all the
+way--though the way is far too short for all I have to say."
+
+"I have done nothing--it has really cost me nothing." Vjera squeezed her
+limp parcel under her shawl, and felt that she was speaking the truth.
+
+"I cannot believe that, Vjera," said the Count. "You could not have found
+so much money so quickly, without making some great sacrifice. But I will
+give it back to you--"
+
+"Oh no--no," she cried, earnestly. "Make no promises to me. Think what
+this promise has cost you. When you have the money, you may give it back
+if you choose--but it would make me so unhappy if you promised."
+
+"Would it, child? And yet, my friends are waiting for me, and they have
+money for me, too. Then, I will only say that I will give it back to you
+as soon as possible. Is that right?"
+
+"Yes--and nothing more than that. And as for thanking me--what have I done
+that needs thanks? Would you not have done as much for me if--if, for
+instance, I had been ill, and could not pay the rent of the room? And
+then--think of the happiness I have had!"
+
+The words were spoken so simply and it was so clear that they were true,
+that the Count found it hard to answer. Not because he had nothing to
+express, but because the words for the expression could not be found.
+Again he pressed her arm.
+
+"Vjera," he said, when they had walked some distance farther, "it is of no
+use to speak of this. There is that between you and me which makes speech
+contemptible and words ridiculous. There is only one thing that I can do,
+Vjera dearest. I can love you, dear, with all my heart. Will you take my
+love for thanks--and my devotion for gratitude? Will you, dear? Will you
+remember what you promised and what I promised last night? As soon as all
+is right, to-morrow, will you be my wife?"
+
+"If it could ever be!" sighed the poor girl, recalled suddenly to the
+remembrance of his pitiful infirmity.
+
+"It can be, it shall be and it will be," he answered in tones of
+conviction. "They are waiting for me now, Vjera, in my little room--but
+they may wait, for I will not lose a moment of your dear company for them
+all. They are waiting for me with the money and the papers and the orders.
+I have waited long for them, they can afford to have a little patience
+now. And to-morrow, at this time, we shall be together, Vjera, in the
+train--I will have a special carriage for you and me, and then, a night
+and a day and another night and we shall be at home--for ever. How happy
+we shall be! Will you not be happy with me, darling? Why do you sigh?"
+
+"Did I sigh?" asked Vjera, trying to laugh a little.
+
+He hardly noticed the question, but began to talk again, as he had talked
+on the previous evening, describing all that he meant to do, and all that
+they would do together. Vjera heard and tried not to listen. Her joy was
+all gone. The great, overwhelming pleasure she had felt in dispelling his
+anxiety and in averting what had seemed a near and terrible catastrophe,
+gave place to the old, heartrending pity for him, as he rambled on in his
+delusion. She had hoped that, as it was late on Wednesday evening, the
+time of it was passed and that, for another week, he would talk no more of
+his friends and his money and his return to fortune. But the fixed idea
+was there still, as dominant as ever. Her light tread grew weary and her
+head sank forward as she walked. For one short hour she had felt the glory
+of sacrificing all she had to give, to her love. Are there many who have
+felt as much, with as good reason, in a whole lifetime?
+
+But the hour was gone, taking with it the reality and leaving in its place
+a memory, fair, brilliant, and dear as the tress of golden hair Vjera was
+carrying home in her parcel, but as useless perhaps and as valueless in
+the world of realities as that had proved to be.
+
+They reached her door and stopped in their walk. She looked up sadly into
+his eyes, as she held out her hand. He hesitated a moment, and then threw
+both his arms round her and drew her to his heart and kissed her
+passionately again and again. She tried to draw back.
+
+"Oh no, no!" she cried. "It cannot be so to-morrow--why should you kiss me
+to-day?" But he would not let her go. She loved him, though she knew he
+was mad, and she let her head fall upon his shoulder, and allowed herself
+to believe in love for a moment.
+
+Suddenly she felt that he was startled by something.
+
+"Vjera!" he cried. "Have you cut off your beautiful hair? What have you
+done, child? How could you do it?"
+
+"It was so heavy," she said, looking up with a bright smile. "It made my
+head ache--it is best so."
+
+But he was not satisfied, for he guessed something of the truth, and the
+pain and horror that thrilled him told him that he had guessed rightly.
+
+"You have cut it off--and you have sold it--you have sold your hair for
+me--" he stammered in a broken voice.
+
+She hung her head a little.
+
+"I always meant to cut it off. I did not care for it, you know. And
+besides," she added, suddenly looking up again, "you will not love me
+less, will you? They said it would grow again--you will not love me less?"
+
+"Love you less? Ah, Vjera, that promise I may make at least--never--to the
+end of ends!"
+
+"And yet," she answered, "if it should all be true--if it only should--you
+could not--oh, I should not be worthy of you--you could never marry me."
+
+The Count drew back a step and held out his right hand, with a strangely
+earnest look in his weary eyes. She laid her fingers in his almost
+unconsciously. Then, as though he were in a holy place, he took off his
+hat, and stood bareheaded before her.
+
+"If I forsake you, Vjera," he said very solemnly, "if I forsake you ever,
+in riches or in poverty, in honour or in disrepute, may the God of heaven
+forsake me in the hour of my death."
+
+He swore the great oath deliberately, in a strong, clear voice, and then
+was silent for a moment, his eyes turned upwards, his attitude unchanged.
+Then he raised the poor girl's thin hand to his lips and kissed it, three
+times, reverently, as devout persons kiss the relics of departed saints.
+
+"Good-night, Vjera," he said, quietly. "We shall meet to-morrow."
+
+Vjera was awed by his solemn earnestness, and strongly moved by his
+action.
+
+"Good-night," she answered, lovingly. "Heaven bless you and keep you
+safe." She looked for a last time into his face, as though trying to
+impress upon her mind the memories of that fateful evening, and then she
+withdrew into the house, shutting the street door behind her.
+
+The Count stood still for several minutes, unconsciously holding his hat
+in his hand. At last he covered his head and walked slowly away in the
+direction of his home. By degrees his mind fell into its old groove and he
+hastened his steps. From time to time, he fancied that some one was
+following him at no great distance, but though he glanced quickly over his
+shoulder he saw no one in the dimly-lighted street. The door of the house
+in which he lived was open, and he ran up the stairs at a great pace, sure
+that by this time his friends must be waiting for him in his room. When he
+reached it, all was dark and quiet. The echo of his own footsteps seemed
+still to resound in the staircase as he closed his door and struck a
+match. He found his small lamp in a corner, lighted it with some
+difficulty, set it on the table and sat down. There, beside him, propped
+up against two books, was the piece of paper on which he had written the
+few words for his friends, in case they came while he was out. He took it
+up, looked over it absently and began to fold it upon itself again and
+again.
+
+"Dear Vjera!" he exclaimed, in a low caressing tone, as he smoothed the
+folded strip between his fingers.
+
+He was thinking, and thinking connectedly, of all that had just taken
+place, and wondering how it was that he had been able to accept such a
+sacrifice from one so little able to sacrifice anything. It seemed as
+though it should have been impossible for him to let the poor little
+shell-maker take upon herself his burden, and free him of it and set him
+right again in his own eyes.
+
+"I know that I love her now," he said to himself.
+
+And he was right. There are secret humiliations to which no man would
+submit, as such, but from which love, when it is real, can take away the
+sting and the poison. The man of heart, who does not love but is loved in
+spite of himself, fears to accept a sacrifice, lest in so doing he should
+seem to declare his readiness to do as he is done by, from like motives.
+But when love is on both sides there is no such drawing back from love's
+responsibilities. The sacrifice is accepted not only with gratitude, but
+with joy, as a debt of which the repayment by sacrifice again constitutes
+in itself a happiness. And thus, perhaps, it is that they love best who
+love in sorrow and in want, in worldly poverty and in distress of soul,
+for they alone can know what joy it is to receive, and what yet infinitely
+greater joy lies in giving all when all is sorely needed.
+
+But as the Count dwelt on the circumstances he saw also what it was that
+Vjera had done, and he wondered how she could have found the strength to
+do it. He did not, indeed, say to himself that for his sake she had parted
+with her only beauty, for he had never considered whether she were
+good-looking or not. The bond between them was of a different nature, and
+would not have been less strong had Vjera been absolutely ugly instead of
+being merely, what is called, plain. He would have loved her as well, had
+she been a cripple, or deformed, just as she loved him in spite of his
+madness. But he knew well enough how women, even the most wretched, value
+their hair when it is beautiful, what care they bestow upon it and what
+consolation they derive from the rich, silken coil denied to fairer women
+than themselves. There is something in the thought of cutting off the
+heavy tress and selling it which appeals to the pity of most people, and
+which, to women themselves, is full of horror. A man might have felt the
+same in those days when long locks were the distinctive outward sign of
+nobility in man, and perhaps the respect of that obsolete custom has left
+in the minds of most people a sort of unconscious tradition. However that
+may be, we all feel that in one direction, at least, a woman's sacrifice
+can go no further than in giving her head to the shears.
+
+The longer the Count thought of this, the more his gratitude increased,
+and the more fully he realised at what great cost poor Vjera had saved him
+from what he considered the greatest conceivable dishonour, from the shame
+of breaking his word, no matter under what conditions it had been given.
+He could, of course, repay her the money, so soon as his friends arrived,
+but by no miracle whatever could he restore to her head the only beauty it
+had ever possessed. He had scarcely understood this at first, for he had
+been confused and shaken by the many emotions which had in succession
+played upon his nervous mind and body during the past twenty-four hours.
+But now he saw it all very clearly. He had taken only money, which he
+would be able to restore; she had given a part of herself, irrevocably.
+
+So deeply absorbed was he in his thoughts that the clocks struck many
+successive quarters without rousing him from his reverie, or suggesting
+again to him the fixed idea by which his life was governed on that day of
+the week. But as midnight drew near, the prolonged striking of the bells
+at every quarter at last attracted his attention. He started suddenly and
+rose from his seat, trying to count the strokes, but he had not heard the
+first ones and was astray in his reckoning. It was very late, that was
+certain, and not many minutes could elapse before the door would open and
+his friends would enter. He hastily smoothed his hair, looked to the flame
+of his bright little lamp and made a trip of inspection round the room.
+Everything was in order. He was almost glad that they were to come at
+night, for the lamplight seemed to lend a more cheerful look to the room.
+The Turkey-red cotton counterpane on the bed looked particularly well, the
+Count thought. During the next fifteen minutes he walked about, rubbing
+his hands softly together. At the first stroke of the following quarter he
+stood still and listened intently.
+
+Four quarters struck, and then the big bell began to toll the hour. It
+must be eleven, he thought, as he counted the strokes. Eleven--twelve--he
+started, and turned very white, but listened still, for he knew that he
+should hear another clock striking in a few seconds. As the strokes
+followed each other, his heart beat like a fulling-hammer, giving a
+succession of quick blows, and pausing to repeat the rhythmic tattoo more
+loudly and painfully than before. Ten--eleven--twelve--there was no
+mistake. The day was over. It was midnight, and no one had come. The room
+swam with him.
+
+Then, as in a vision of horror, he saw himself standing there, as he had
+stood many times before, listening for the last stroke, and suddenly
+awaking from the dream to the crushing disappointment of the reality. For
+one brief and terrible moment his whole memory was restored to him and he
+knew that his madness was only madness, and nothing more, and that it
+seized him in the same way, week by week, through the months and the
+years, leaving him thus on the stroke of twelve each Wednesday night, a
+broken, miserable, self-deceived man. As in certain dreams, we dream that
+we have dreamed the same things before, so with him an endless calendar of
+Wednesdays was unrolled before his inner sight, all alike, all ending in
+the same terror of conscious madness.
+
+He had dreamed it all, there was no one to come to him in his distress, no
+one would ever enter that lonely room to bring back to him the treasures
+of a glorious past, for there was no one to come. It had all been a dream
+from beginning to end and there was no reality in it.
+
+He staggered to his chair and sat down, pressing his lean hands to his
+aching temples and rocking himself to and fro, his breath hissing through
+his convulsively closed teeth. Still the fearful memory remained, and it
+grew into a prophetic vision of the future, reflecting what had been upon
+the distant scenery of what was yet to be. With that one deadly stroke of
+the great church bell, all was gone--fortune, friends, wealth, dignity.
+The majestic front of the palace of his hopes was but a flimsy, painted
+tissue. The fire that ran through his tortured brain consumed the gaudy,
+artificial thing in the flash and rush of a single flame, and left behind
+only the charred skeleton framework, which had supported the vast canvas.
+And then, he saw it again and again looming suddenly out of the darkness,
+brightening into beauty and the semblance of strength, to be as suddenly
+destroyed once more. With each frantic beat of his heart the awful
+transformation was renewed. For dreams need not time to spin out their
+intolerable length. With each burning throb of his raging blood, every
+nerve in his body, every aching recess of his brain, was pierced and
+twisted, and pierced again with unceasing agony.
+
+Then a new horror was added to the rest. He saw before him the poor Polish
+girl, her only beauty shorn away for his sake, he saw all that he had
+promised in return, and he knew that he had nothing to give her, nothing,
+absolutely, save the crazy love of a wretched madman. He could not even
+repay her the miserable money which had cost her so dear. Out of his
+dreams of fortune there was not so much as a handful of coin left to give
+the girl who had given all she had, who had sold her hair to save his
+honour. With frightful vividness the truth came over him. That honour of
+his, he had pledged it in the recklessness of his madness. She had saved
+it out of love, and he had not even--but no--there was a new memory
+there--love he had for her, passionate, tender, true, a love that had not
+its place among the terrors of the past. But--was not this a new dream, a
+new delusion of his shaken brain? And if he loved her, was it not yet more
+terrible to have deceived the loved one, more monstrous, more infamous,
+more utterly damnable? The figure of her rose before him, pitiful, thin,
+weak, with outstretched hands and trusting eyes--and he had taken of her
+all she had. Neither heart, nor body, nor brain could bear more.
+
+"Vjera! God! Forgive me!" With the cry of a breaking heart the poor Count
+fell forward from his seat and lay in a heap, motionless upon the floor.
+
+Only his stiffening fingers, crooked and contorted, worked nervously for a
+few minutes, scratching at the rough boards. Then all was quite still in
+the little room.
+
+There was a noise outside, and some one opened the door. The Cossack stood
+upon the threshold, holding his hand up against the lamp, for he was
+dazzled as he entered from the outer darkness of the stairs. He looked
+about, and at first saw nothing, for the Count had fallen in the shadow of
+the table.
+
+Then, seeing where he lay, Johann Schmidt came forward and knelt down, and
+with some difficulty turned his friend upon his back.
+
+"Dead--poor Count!" he exclaimed in a low voice, bending down over the
+ghastly face.
+
+The pale eyes were turned upward and inward, and the forehead was damp.
+Schmidt unbuttoned the threadbare coat from the breast. There was no
+waistcoat under it--nothing but a patched flannel shirt. A quantity of
+papers were folded neatly in a flat package in the inner pocket. Schmidt
+put down his head and listened for the beatings of the heart.
+
+"So it is over!" he said mournfully, as he straightened himself upon his
+knees. Then he took one of the extended hands in his, and pressed it, and
+looked into the poor man's face, and felt the tears coming into his eyes.
+
+"You were a good man," he said in sorrowful tones, "and a brave man in
+your way, and a true gentleman--and--I suppose it was not your fault if
+you were mad. Heaven give you peace and rest!"
+
+He rose to his feet, debating what he should do.
+
+"Poor Vjera!" he sighed. "Poor Vjera--she will go next!"
+
+Once more, he looked down, and his eye caught sight of the papers
+projecting from the inner pocket of the coat, which was still open and
+thrown back upon the floor. It has been noticed more than once that Johann
+Schmidt was a man subject to attacks of quite irresistible curiosity. He
+hesitated a moment, and then came to the conclusion that he was as much
+entitled as any one else to be the Count's executor.
+
+"It cannot harm him now," he said, as he extracted the bundle from its
+place.
+
+One of the letters was quite fresh. The rest were evidently very old,
+being yellow with age and ragged at the edges. He turned over the former.
+It was addressed to Count Skariatine, at his lodging, and it bore the
+postmark of a town in Great-Russia, between Petersburg and Moscow. Schmidt
+took out the sheet, and his face suddenly grew very dark and angry. The
+handwriting was either in reality Akulina's, or it resembled it so closely
+as to have deceived a better expert than the Cossack.
+
+The missive purported to be written by the wife of Count Skariatine's
+steward, and it set forth in rather servile and illiterate language that
+the said Count Skariatine and his eldest son were both dead, having been
+seized on the same day with the smallpox, of which there had been an
+epidemic in the neighbourhood, but which was supposed to have quite
+disappeared when they fell ill. A week later and within twenty-four hours
+of each other they had breathed their last. The Count Boris Michaelovitch
+was now the heir, and would do well to come home as soon as possible to
+look after his possessions, as the local authorities were likely to make a
+good thing out of it in his absence.
+
+The Cossack swore a terrific oath, and stamped furiously on the floor as
+he rose to his feet. It was evident to him that Akulina had out of spite
+concocted the letter, and had managed to have it posted by some friend in
+Russia. He was not satisfied with one expletive, nor with many. The words
+he used need not be translated for the reader of the English language. It
+is enough to say that they were the strongest in the Cossack vocabulary,
+that they were well selected and applied with force and precision.
+
+Johann Schmidt was exceedingly wroth with the tobacconist's wife, for it
+was clear that she had caused the Count's untimely death by her abominable
+practical joke. He went and leaned out of the window, churning and
+gnashing the fantastic expressions of his rage through his teeth.
+
+Suddenly there was a noise in the room, a distinct, loud noise, as of
+shuffling with hands and feet. The Cossack's nerves were proof against
+ghostly terrors, but as he turned round he felt that his hair was standing
+erect upon his head.
+
+The Count was on his feet and was looking at him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+"I thought you were dead!" gasped the Cossack in dismay.
+
+There was no answer. The Count did not appear to hear Schmidt's voice nor
+to see his figure. He acted like a man walking in his sleep, and it was by
+no means certain to the friend who watched him that his eyes were always
+open. As though nothing unusual had happened, the Count calmly undressed
+himself and got into bed. Three minutes later he was sound asleep and
+breathing regularly.
+
+For a long time Johann Schmidt stood transfixed with wonder in his place
+at the open window. At last it dawned upon him that his friend had not
+been really dead, but had fallen into some sort of fit in the course of
+his lonely meditations, from which he had been awakened by the Cossack's
+terrific swearing. Why the latter had seemed to be invisible and inaudible
+to him, was a matter which Schmidt did not attempt to solve. It was clear
+that the Count was alive, and sleeping like other people. Schmidt
+hesitated some time as to what he should do. It was possible that his
+friend might wake again, and find himself desperately ill. He had been so
+evidently unlike himself, that Schmidt had feared he would become a raving
+maniac in the night, and had entered the house at his heels, seating
+himself upon the stairs just outside the door to wait for events, with the
+odd fidelity and forethought characteristic of him. The Count's cry had
+warned him that all was not right and he had entered the room, as has been
+seen.
+
+He determined to wait some time longer, to see whether anything would
+happen. Meanwhile, he thrust Akulina's letter into his pocket, reflecting
+that as it was a forgery it would be best that the Count should not have
+it, lest he should be again misled by the contents. He sat down and
+waited.
+
+Nothing happened. The clocks chimed the quarters up to one in the morning,
+a quarter-past, half-past--Schmidt was growing sleepy. The Count breathed
+regularly and lay in his bed without moving. Then, at last, the Cossack
+rose, looked at his friend once more, blew out the lamp, felt his way to
+the door and left the room. As he walked home through the quiet streets he
+swore that he would take vengeance upon Akulina, by producing the letter
+and reading it in her husband's presence, and before the assembled
+establishment, before the Count made his appearance. It was indeed not
+probable that he would come at all, considering all that he had suffered,
+though Schmidt knew that he generally came on Thursday morning, evidently
+weary and exhausted, but unconscious of the delusion which had possessed
+him during the previous day. Possibly, he was subject to a similar fit
+every Wednesday night, and had kept the fact a secret. Schmidt had always
+wondered what happened to him at the moment when he suddenly forgot his
+imaginary fortune and returned to his everyday senses.
+
+The morning dawned at last, and it was Thursday. As there was no necessity
+for liberating the Count from arrest to-day, Akulina roused her husband
+with the lark, gave him his coffee promptly and sent him off to open the
+shop and catch the early customer. Before the shutters had been up more
+than a quarter of an hour, and while Fischelowitz was still sniffing the
+fresh morning air, Johann Schmidt appeared. His step was brisk, his brow
+was dark and his boots creaked ominously. With a very brief salutation he
+passed into the back shop, slipped off his coat and set to work with the
+determination of a man who feels that he must do something active as a
+momentary relief to his feelings.
+
+Next came Vjera, paler than ever, with great black rings under her tired
+eyes, broken with the fatigues and anxieties of the previous day, but
+determined to double her work, if that were possible, in order to make up
+for the money she had borrowed of Schmidt and, through him, of Dumnoff. As
+she dropped her shawl, Fischelowitz caught sight of the back of her head,
+and broke into a laugh.
+
+"Why, Vjera!" he cried. "What have you done? You have made yourself look
+perfectly ridiculous!"
+
+The poor girl turned scarlet, and busied herself at her table without
+answering. Her fingers trembled as she tried to handle her glass tube. The
+Cossack, whose anger had not been diluted by being left to boil all night,
+dropped his swivel knife and went up to Fischelowitz with a look in his
+face so extremely disagreeable that the tobacconist drew back a little,
+not knowing what to expect.
+
+"I will tell you something," said Schmidt, savagely. "You will have to
+change your manners if you expect any of us to work for you."
+
+"What do you mean?" stammered Fischelowitz, in whom nature had omitted to
+implant the gift of physical courage, except in such measure as saved him
+from the humiliation of being afraid of his wife.
+
+"I mean what I say," answered the Cossack. "And if there is anything I
+hate, it is to repeat what I have said before hitting a man." His fists
+were clenched already, and one of them looked as though it were on the
+point of making a very emphatic gesture. Fischelowitz retired backwards
+into the front shop, while Vjera looked on from within, now pale again and
+badly frightened.
+
+"Herr Schmidt! Herr Schmidt! Please, please be quiet! It does not matter!"
+she cried.
+
+"Then what does matter?" inquired the Cossack over his shoulders, "If
+Vjera has cut off her hair," he said, turning again to Fischelowitz, "she
+has had a good reason for it. It is none of your business, nor mine
+either."
+
+So saying he was about to go back to his work again.
+
+"Upon my word!" exclaimed the tobacconist. "Upon my word! I do not
+understand what has got into the fellow."
+
+"You do not understand?" cried Schmidt, facing him again. "I mean that if
+you laugh at Vjera I will break most of your bones."
+
+At that moment Akulina's stout figure appeared, entering from the street.
+The Cossack stood still, glaring at her, his face growing white and
+contracted with anger. He was becoming dangerous, as good-tempered men
+will, when roused, especially when they have been brought up among people
+who, as a tribe, would rather fight than eat, at any time of day, from
+pure love of the thing. Even Akulina, who was not timid, hesitated as she
+stood on the threshold.
+
+"What has happened?" she inquired, looking from Schmidt to her husband.
+
+The latter came to her side, if not for protection, as might be
+maliciously supposed, at least for company.
+
+"I cannot understand at all," said Fischelowitz, still edging away.
+
+"You understand well enough, I think, and as for you, Frau Fischelowitz, I
+have something to talk of with you, too. But we will put it off until
+later," he added, as though suddenly changing his mind.
+
+The Count himself had appeared in the doorway behind Akulina. Both she and
+her husband stood aside, looking at him curiously.
+
+"Good-morning," he said, gravely taking off his hat and inclining his head
+a little. He acted as though quite unconscious of what had happened on the
+previous day, and they watched him as he quietly went into the room
+beyond, into which the Cossack had retired on seeing him enter.
+
+He hung up his hat in its usual place, nodding to Schmidt, who was
+opposite to him. Then, as he turned, he met Vjera's eyes. It was a supreme
+moment for her, poor child. Would he remember anything of what had passed
+on the previous day? Or had he forgotten all, his debt, her saving of him
+and the sacrifice she had made? He looked at her so long and so steadily
+that she grew frightened. Then all at once he came close to her, and took
+her hand and kissed it as he had done when they had last parted, careless
+of Schmidt's presence.
+
+"I have not forgotten, dear Vjera," he whispered in her ear.
+
+Schmidt passed them quickly and again went out, whether from a sense of
+delicacy, or because he saw an opportunity of renewing the fight outside,
+is not certain. He closed the door of communication behind him.
+
+Vjera looked up into the Count's eyes and the blush that rarely came, the
+blush of true happiness, mounted to her face.
+
+"I have not forgotten, dearest," he said again. "There is a veil over
+yesterday--I think I must have been ill--but I know what you did for me
+and--and--" he hesitated as though seeking an expression.
+
+For a few seconds again the poor girl felt the agony of suspense she knew
+so well.
+
+"I do not know what right a man so poor as I has to say such a thing,
+Vjera," he continued. "But I love you, dear, and if you will take me, I
+will love you all my life, more and more. Will it be harder to be poor
+together than each for ourselves, alone?"
+
+Vjera let her head fall upon his shoulder, happy at last. What did his
+madness matter now, since the one memory she craved had survived its
+destroying influence? He had forgotten his glorious hopes, his imaginary
+wealth, his expected friends, but he had not forgotten her, nor his love
+for her.
+
+"Thank God!" she sighed, and the happy tears fell from her eyes upon the
+breast of his threadbare coat.
+
+"But we must not forget to work, dear," she said, a few moments later.
+
+"No," he answered. "We must not forget to work."
+
+As she sat down to her table he pushed her chair back for her, and put
+into her hands her little glass tube, and then he went and took his own
+place opposite. For a long time they were left alone, but neither of them
+seemed to wonder at it, nor to hear the low, excited tones of many voices
+talking rapidly and often together in the shop outside. Whenever their
+eyes met, they both smiled, while their fingers did the accustomed
+mechanical work.
+
+When Schmidt entered the outer shop for the second time, he found the
+tobacconist and his wife conversing in low tones together, in evident fear
+of being overheard. He came and stood before them, lowering his voice to
+the pitch of theirs, as he spoke.
+
+"It is no fault of yours that the Count was not found dead in his bed this
+morning," he began, fixing his fiery eyes on Akulina.
+
+"What? What? What is this?" asked Fischelowitz excitedly.
+
+"Only this," said the Cossack, displaying the letter he had brought from
+the Count's rooms. "Nothing more. Your wife has succeeded very well. He is
+quite mad now. I found him last night, helpless, in a sort of fit, stiff
+and stark on the floor of his room. And this was in his pocket. Read it,
+Herr Fischelowitz. Read it, by all means. I suppose your wife does not
+mind your reading the letters she writes."
+
+Fischelowitz took the letter stupidly, turned it over, saw the address,
+and took out the folded sheet. Akulina's face expressed a blank amazement
+almost comical in its vacuity. For once, she was taken off her guard. Her
+husband read the letter over twice and examined the handwriting curiously.
+
+"A joke is a joke, Akulina," he said at last. "But you have carried this
+too far. What if the Count had died?"
+
+"I would like to know what I am accused of," said Akulina, "and what all
+this is about."
+
+"I suppose you know your own handwriting," observed the Cossack, taking
+the letter from the tobacconist's hands and holding it before her eyes.
+"And if that is not enough to drive the poor man to the madhouse I do not
+know what is. Perhaps you have forgotten all about it? Perhaps you are
+mad, too?"
+
+Akulina read the writing in her turn. Then she grew very angry.
+
+"It is an abominable lie!" she exclaimed. "I never had anything to do with
+it. I do not know whence this letter comes, and I do not care. I know
+nothing about it."
+
+"I suppose no one can prevent your saying so, at least," retorted the
+Cossack.
+
+"It is very queer," observed Fischelowitz, suddenly thrusting his hands
+into his pockets and beginning to whistle softly as he looked through the
+shop window.
+
+"When I tell you that it is not my handwriting, you ought to be
+satisfied--" Akulina began.
+
+"And yet none of us are," interrupted the Cossack with a laugh. "Strange,
+is it not?"
+
+Dumnoff now came in, and a moment later the insignificant girl, who began
+to giggle foolishly as soon as she saw that something was happening which
+she could not understand.
+
+"None of us are satisfied," continued Johann Schmidt, taking the letter
+from Akulina. "Here, Dumnoff, here Anna Nicolaevna, is this the
+Chosjaika's handwriting or not? Let everybody see and judge."
+
+"It is outrageous!" exclaimed Akulina, trying to get possession of the
+letter again.
+
+"You see how she tries to get it," laughed the Cossack, savagely. "She
+would be glad to tear it to pieces--of course she would."
+
+"I wish you would all go about your business," said Fischelowitz with an
+approach to asperity.
+
+Akulina was furious, but she did not know what to do. Everybody began
+talking together.
+
+"Of course it is the Barina's handwriting," said Dumnoff confidently. He
+supposed it was always safe to follow Schmidt's lead, when he followed any
+one.
+
+"Of course it is," chimed in the insignificant Anna.
+
+"You--you minx--you flatter-cat, you little serpent!" cried Akulina,
+speaking three languages at once in her excitement. "Go--get along--go to
+your work--"
+
+"No, no, stay!" exclaimed the Cossack authoritatively. "Do you know what
+this is?" he asked of all present again. "Our good mistress, here, has for
+some reason or other been trying to make the Count worse by having sham
+letters posted to him from home--"
+
+"It is a lie! A base, abominable lie! Turn the man out, Christian
+Gregorovitch! Turn him out, or send for the police."
+
+"Turn him out yourself," answered the tobacconist phlegmatically.
+
+"Posted to him from home," continued the Cossack, "and telling him that
+his father and brother are dead and that he has come into property and the
+like. What do you think of that?"
+
+"It is a shame," growled Dumnoff, beginning to understand.
+
+The girl laughed foolishly.
+
+"I swear to you," began Akulina, crimson with anger. "I swear to you by
+all--"
+
+"Customers, customers!" exclaimed Fischelowitz in a stage whisper. "Quiet,
+I tell you!" He made a rush for the other side of the counter, and briskly
+assumed his professional smile. The others fell back into the corners.
+
+Two gentlemen in black entered the shop. The one was a stout,
+angry-looking person of middle age, very dark, and very full about the
+lower part of the face, which was not concealed by the closely cut black
+beard. His companion was a diminutive little man, very thin and very
+spruce, not less than fifty years old. His face was entirely shaved and
+was deeply marked with lines and furrows. A pair of piercing grey eyes
+looked through big gold-rimmed spectacles. As he took off his hat, a few
+thin, sandy-coloured locks fluttered a little and then settled themselves
+upon the smooth surface of his cranium, like autumn leaves falling upon a
+marble statue in a garden.
+
+"Herr Fischelowitz?" inquired the larger of the two customers, touching
+his hat but not removing it.
+
+"At your service," answered the tobacconist. "Cigarettes?" he inquired.
+"Strong? Light? Kir, Samson, Dubec?"
+
+"I am the new Russian Consul," said the stranger. "This gentleman is just
+arrived from Petersburg and has business with you."
+
+"My name is Konstantin Grabofsky, and I am a lawyer," observed the little
+man very sharply.
+
+Fischelowitz bowed till his nose almost came into collision with the
+counter. The others in the shop held their peace and opened their eyes.
+
+"And I am told that Count Boris Michaelovitch Skariatine is here,"
+continued the lawyer.
+
+"Oh--the mad Count!" exclaimed Akulina with an angry laugh, and coming
+forward. "Yes, we can tell you all about him."
+
+"I am sorry," said Grabofsky, "to hear you call him mad, since my business
+is with him, Barina, and not with you." His tone was, if possible, more
+incisive than before.
+
+"Of course, we know that he is not a Count at all," said Akulina, somewhat
+annoyed by his sharpness.
+
+"Do you? Then you are singularly mistaken. I shall be obliged if you will
+inform Count Skariatine that Konstantin Grabofsky desires the honour of an
+interview with him."
+
+"Go and call him, Akulina," said Fischelowitz, "since the gentleman wishes
+to see him."
+
+"Go yourself," retorted his wife.
+
+"Go together, and be quick about it!" said the Consul, who was tired of
+waiting.
+
+"And please to say that I wait his convenience," added the lawyer.
+
+Dumnoff moved to Schmidt's side and whispered into his ear.
+
+"Do you think they have come about the Gigerl?" he inquired anxiously. "Do
+you think they will arrest us again?"
+
+"Durak!" laughed the Cossack. "How can two Russian gentlemen arrest you in
+Munich? This is something connected with the Count's friends. It is my
+belief that they have come at last. See--here he is."
+
+The Count now entered from the back shop, calm and collected, as though
+not expecting anything extraordinary. The Russian Consul took off his hat
+and bowed with great politeness and the Count returned the salutation with
+equal civility. Fischelowitz and Akulina stood in the background anxiously
+watching events.
+
+The lawyer also bowed and then, turning his face to the light, held his
+hand out.
+
+"You have not forgotten me, Count Skariatine?" he said, in a tone of
+inquiry.
+
+The Count stared hard at him as he took the proffered hand. Gradually, his
+face underwent a change. His forehead contracted, his eyes closed a
+little, his eyebrows rose, and an expression of quiet disdain settled
+about the lines of his mouth.
+
+"I know you very well," he answered. "You are Doctor Konstantin Grabofsky,
+my father's lawyer. Do you come from him to renew the offer you made when
+we parted?"
+
+"I have no offer to make," said the little man. "Will you do me the honour
+to indicate some place where we may be alone together for a moment?"
+
+"I have no objection to that," replied the Count. "We can go into the
+street."
+
+They passed out together, leaving the establishment of Christian
+Fischelowitz in a condition of great astonishment. The tobacconist hastily
+produced his best cigarettes and entreated the Consul to try one, making
+signs to the other occupants of the shop to return to their occupations in
+the inner room.
+
+"How long have you known Count Skariatine?" inquired the Consul,
+carelessly, when he was alone with Fischelowitz.
+
+"Six or seven years," answered the latter.
+
+"I suppose you know his story? Your wife was good enough to inform us of
+that fact, though Doctor Grabofsky has reason to doubt the value of her
+information."
+
+"We only know that he calls himself a Count." Fischelowitz held the
+authorities of his native country in holy awe, and was almost frightened
+out of his senses at being thus questioned by the Consul.
+
+"He is quite at liberty to do so," answered the latter with a laugh. "The
+story is simple enough," he continued, "and there is no reason why you
+should not know it. The late Count Skariatine had two sons, of whom the
+present Count was the younger. Ten years ago, when barely twenty, he
+quarrelled with his father and elder brother, and they parted in anger. I
+must say that he seems to have acted hastily, though the old gentleman's
+views of life were eccentric, to say the least of it. For some reason or
+other, the elder brother never married. I have heard it said that he was
+crippled in childhood. Be that as it may, he was vindictive and spiteful
+by nature, and prevented the quarrel from being forgotten. The younger
+brother left the house with the clothes on his back, and steadily refused
+to accept the small allowance offered him, and which was his by right. And
+now the father and the eldest son are dead--they died suddenly of the
+smallpox--and Doctor Grabofsky has come to inform the Count that he is the
+heir. There you have the story in a nutshell."
+
+"Then it is all true, after all!" cried Fischelowitz. "We all thought--"
+
+"Thinking, when one knows nothing, is a dangerous and useless pastime,"
+observed the Consul. "I will take a box of these cigarettes with me. They
+are good."
+
+"Thank you most obediently, Milostivy Gosudar!" exclaimed Fischelowitz,
+bowing low. "I trust that the Gospodin Consul will honour me with his
+patronage. I have a great variety of tobaccos, Kir, Basma, Samson, Dubec
+Imperial, Swary--"
+
+While Fischelowitz was recommending the productions of his Celebrated
+Manufactory to the Consul, Grabofsky and the Count were walking together
+up and down the smooth pavement outside.
+
+"A great change has taken place in your family," Grabofsky was saying.
+"Had anything less extraordinary occurred, I should have written to you
+instead of coming in person. Your brother is dead, Count Skariatine."
+
+"Dead!" exclaimed the Count, who had no recollection of the letter
+abstracted from his pocket by the Cossack. It had reached him after the
+weekly attack had begun, and the memory of it was gone with that of so
+many other occurrences.
+
+"Dead," repeated the lawyer sharply, as though he would have made a nail
+of the word to drive it into the coffin.
+
+"And how many children has he left?" inquired the Count.
+
+"He died unmarried."
+
+"So that I--"
+
+"You are the lawful heir."
+
+"Unless my father marries again." The colour rose in the Count's lean
+cheeks.
+
+"That is impossible."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because he is dead, too."
+
+"Then--"
+
+"You are Count Skariatine, and I have the honour to offer you my services
+at this important juncture."
+
+The Count breathed hard. The shock, overtaking him when he was in his
+normal condition, was tremendous. The colour came and went rapidly in his
+features, and he caught his breath, leaning heavily upon the little
+lawyer, who watched his face with some anxiety. Akulina's remark about the
+Count's madness had made him more careful than he would otherwise have
+been in his manner of breaking the news.
+
+"I am not well," said the Count in a low voice. "To-day is Wednesday--I am
+never well on Wednesdays."
+
+"To-day is Thursday," answered Grabofsky.
+
+"Thursday? Thursday--" the Count reeled, and would have fallen, but for
+the support of the nervous little man's wiry arm.
+
+Then, in the space of a second, took place that strange phenomenon of the
+intelligence which is as yet so imperfectly understood. It is called the
+"Transfer" in the jargon of the half-developed science which deals with
+suggestion and the like. Its effects are strange, sudden and complete,
+often observed, never understood, but chronicled in hundreds of cases and
+analysed in every seat of physiological learning in Europe. In the
+twinkling of an eye, a part or the whole of the intelligence, or of the
+sensations, is reversed in action, and this with a logical precision of
+which no description can give any idea. It is universally considered as
+the first step in the direction of recovery.
+
+The action of the Count's mind was "transferred," therefore, since the
+word is consecrated by usage. Fortunately for him, the transfer coincided
+with a material change in his fortunes. Had this not been the case it
+would have had the effect of making him mad through the whole week, and
+sane only from Tuesday evening until the midnight of Wednesday. As it was,
+the result was of a contrary nature. Being now in reality restored to
+wealth and dignity, he was able to understand and appreciate the reality
+during six days, becoming again, in imagination, a cigarette-maker upon
+the seventh, a harmless delusion which already shows signs of
+disappearing, and from which the principal authorities confidently assert
+that he will soon be quite free.
+
+He passed but one moment in a state of semi-consciousness. Then he raised
+his head, and stood erect, and to the great surprise of Grabofsky, showed
+no further surprise at the news he had just received.
+
+"The fact is," he said, quietly, "I was expecting you yesterday. I had
+received a letter from the wife of the steward informing me of the death
+of my father and brother. I think your coming to-day must have disturbed
+me, as I have some difficulty in recalling the circumstances which
+attended our meeting here."
+
+"A passing indisposition," suggested Grabofsky. "Nothing more. The weather
+is warm, sultry in fact."
+
+"Yes, it must have been that. And now, we had better communicate the state
+of things to Herr Fischelowitz, to whom I consider myself much indebted."
+
+"Our Consul came with me," said the lawyer. "He is in the shop. Perhaps
+you did not notice him."
+
+"No--I do not think I did. I am afraid he thought me very careless."
+
+"Not at all, not at all." Grabofsky began to think that there had been
+some truth in Akulina's remarks after all, but he kept his opinion to
+himself, then and afterwards, a course which was justified by subsequent
+events. He and the Count turned towards the shop, and, entering, found
+Fischelowitz and the Consul conversing together.
+
+The Count bowed to the latter with much ceremony.
+
+"I fear," he said, "that you must have thought me careless just now. The
+suddenness of the news I have received has affected me. Pray accept my
+best thanks for your kindness in accompanying Doctor Grabofsky this
+morning."
+
+"Do not mention it, Count. I am only too glad to be of service."
+
+"You are very kind. And now, Herr Fischelowitz," he continued, turning to
+the tobacconist, "it is my pleasant duty to thank you also. I looked for
+these gentlemen yesterday. They have arrived to-day. The change which I
+expected would take place has come, and I am about to return to my home.
+The memories of poverty and exile can never be pleasant, but I do not
+think that I have any just reason to complain. Will it please you, Herr
+Fischelowitz, and you, gentlemen, to go into the next room with me? I wish
+to take my leave of those who have so long been my companions."
+
+Fischelowitz opened the door of communication and held it back
+respectfully for the Count to pass. His ideas were exceedingly confused,
+but his instinct told him to make all atonement in his power for his
+wife's outbursts of temper. The Count entered first, and the other three
+followed him, Grabofsky, the Consul, and Fischelowitz. The little back
+shop was very full. To judge from the last accents of Akulina's voice she
+had been repaying Johann Schmidt with compound interest, now that the
+right was on her side, for the manner in which he had attacked her. As the
+Count entered, however, all held their peace, and he began to speak in the
+midst of total silence. He stood by the little black table upon which his
+lean, stained fingers had manufactured so many hundreds of thousands of
+cigarettes.
+
+"Herr Fischelowitz," he began, "I am here to say good-bye to you, to your
+good wife, and to my companions. During a number of years you have
+afforded me the opportunity of earning an honest living, and I have to
+thank you very heartily for the forbearance you have shown me. It is not
+your fault if your consideration for me has sometimes taken a passive
+rather than an active form. It was not your business to fight my battles.
+Give me your hand, Herr Fischelowitz. We part, as we have lived, good
+friends. I wish you all possible success."
+
+The tobacconist bowed low as he respectfully shook hands.
+
+"Too much honour," he said.
+
+"Frau Fischelowitz," continued the Count, "you have acted according to
+your lights and your beliefs. I bear you no ill-will. I only hope that if
+any other poor gentleman should ever take my place you will not make his
+position harder than it would naturally be, and I trust that all may be
+well with you."
+
+"I never meant it, Herr Graf," said Akulina, awkwardly, as she took his
+proffered hand.
+
+He turned to the Cossack.
+
+"Good-bye, Johann Schmidt, good-bye. I shall see you again, before long.
+We have always helped each other, my friend. I have much to thank you
+for."
+
+"You have helped me, you mean," said the Cossack, in a rather shaky voice.
+
+"No, no--each other, and we will continue to do so, I hope, in a different
+way. Good-bye, Dumnoff. You have a better heart than people think."
+
+"Are you not going to take me to Russia, after all?" asked the mujik,
+almost humbly.
+
+"Did I say I would? Then you shall go. But not as coachman, Dumnoff. Not
+as coachman, I think. Good-bye, Anna Nicolaevna," he said, turning to the
+insignificant girl, who was at last too much awed to giggle.
+
+Then he came to Vjera's place. The girl was leaning forward, hiding her
+face in her hands, and resting her small, pointed elbows on the table.
+
+"Vjera, dear," he said, bending down to her, "will you come with me, now?"
+
+She looked up, suddenly, and her face was very white and drawn, and wet
+with tears.
+
+"Oh no, no!" she said in a low voice. "How can I ever be worthy of you,
+since it is really true?"
+
+But the Count put his arm round the poor little shell-maker's waist, and
+made her stand beside him in the midst of them all.
+
+"Gentlemen," he said, in his calmly dignified manner, "let me present to
+you the Countess Skariatine. She will bear that name to-morrow. I owe you
+a confession before leaving you, in her honour and to my humiliation. I
+had contracted a debt of honour, and I had nothing wherewith to pay it.
+There was but an hour left--an hour, and then my life and my honour would
+have been gone together."
+
+Vjera looked up into his face with a pitiful entreaty, but he would go on.
+
+"She saved me, gentlemen," he continued. "She cut off her beautiful hair
+from her head, and sold it for me. But that is not the reason why she is
+to be my wife. There is a better reason than that. I love her, gentlemen,
+with all my heart and soul, and she has told me that she loves me."
+
+He felt her weight upon him, and, looking down, he saw that she had
+fainted in his arms, with a look of joy upon her poor wan face which none
+there had ever seen in the face of man or woman.
+
+And so love conquered.
+
+                                 The End.
+
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+MR. CRAWFORD'S LAST NOVEL.
+KATHARINE LAUDERDALE.
+TWO VOLUMES. CLOTH. $2.00.
+The first of a series of novels dealing with New York life.
+
+PRESS COMMENTS.
+
+"Mr. Crawford at his best is a great novelist, and in _Katharine
+Lauderdale_ we have him at his best."--_Boston Daily Advertiser._
+
+"A most admirable novel, excellent in style, flashing with humor, and full
+of the ripest and wisest reflections upon men and women."--_The
+Westminster Gazette._
+
+"It is the first time, we think, in American fiction that any such breadth
+of view has shown itself in the study of our social framework."--_Life._
+
+"Admirable in its simple pathos, its enforced humor, and, above all, in
+its truths to human nature.... There is not a tedious page or paragraph in
+it."--_Punch._
+
+"It need scarcely be said that the story is skilfully and picturesquely
+written, portraying sharply individual characters in well-defined
+surroundings."--_New York Commercial Advertiser._
+
+"_Katharine Lauderdale_ is a tale of New York, and is up to the highest
+level of his work. In some respects it will probably be regarded as his
+best. None of his works, with the exception of _Mr. Isaacs_, show so
+clearly his skill as a literary artist."--_San Francisco Evening
+Bulletin._
+
+"The book shows the inventive power, the ingenuity of plot, the subtle
+analysis of character, the skilfulness in presenting shifting scenes, the
+patient working-out of details, the aptitude of deduction, and vividness
+of description which characterize the Saracinesca romances."--_New York
+Home Journal._
+
+"Nowhere has the author shown more admirable understanding and command of
+the novel-writer's art.... Whoever wants an original and fascinating book
+can be commended to this one."--_Philadelphia Evening Telegraph._
+
+_IN PRESS._
+A Sequel to "KATHARINE LAUDERDALE,"
+THE RALSTONS.
+
+MACMILLAN & CO.,
+66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK.
+
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+UNIFORM EDITION OF
+F. MARION CRAWFORD'S NOVELS.
+12mo, Cloth. Price, ONE DOLLAR EACH.
+
+MARION DARCHE.
+A STORY WITHOUT COMMENT.
+
+PIETRO GHISLERI.
+CHILDREN OF THE KING.
+DON ORSINO. A Sequel to "Saracinesca" and "Sant' Ilario."
+THE THREE FATES.
+THE WITCH OF PRAGUE.
+KHALED.
+A CIGARETTE-MAKER'S ROMANCE.
+SANT' ILARIO. A Sequel to "Saracinesca."
+GREIFENSTEIN.
+WITH THE IMMORTALS.
+TO LEEWARD.
+A ROMAN SINGER.
+AN AMERICAN POLITICIAN.
+PAUL PATOFF.
+MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX.
+SARACINESCA.
+A TALE OF A LONELY PARISH.
+ZOROASTER.
+DR. CLAUDIUS.
+MR. ISAACS.
+
+MACMILLAN & CO., PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK.
+
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
+
+1. Punctuation has been normalized to contemporary standards.
+
+2. Typographic errors corrected in original:
+   p. 30 hear to heard ("heard the chink")
+   p. 129 Schimdt to Schmidt ("cried Schmidt in a tone of decision")
+   p. 243 Fischelowizt to Fischelowitz ("Herr Fischelowitz")
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's A Cigarette-Maker's Romance, by F. Marion Crawford
+
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