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diff --git a/18651-8.txt b/18651-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e36a6ea --- /dev/null +++ b/18651-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6857 @@ +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. 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