CHAPTER VI.
A LEGACY OF LOVE.
As I approached the broad deep doorway of my house I saw a tall manmuffled up, standing half concealed in the shadow of one of the pillars.
"Who are you, and what are you doing there?" I asked peremptorily,stopping and looking at him.
"What should I be doing, but waiting for Lieutenant Petrovitch?"answered the fellow, stepping forward.
"Well, I am Lieutenant Petrovitch. What do you want?"
"You are not the lieutenant."
"Then you are not looking for Lieutenant Petrovitch," I returned, as Iopened my door. "Be off with you." I spoke firmly, but his reply hadrather disconcerted me.
Instead of going he advanced toward me when he saw me open the door,and shot a glance of surprise at me.
"I beg you honour's pardon. I didn't recognise you; and when youpretended not to know me, I thought it was someone else. You'vedisguised yourself by that change in your face, sir."
There was a mixture of servility and impudence in the man's mannerwhich galled me. He spoke like a fawning sponger: and yet with justsuch a suggestion of threat and familiarity in his manner as might comefrom a low associate in some dirty work which he thought gave him ahold over me.
"What is it you want?" I spoke as sternly as before; and the fellowcringed and bowed as he answered with the same suggestion of familiarinsolence.
"What have I waited here five hours for but to speak to your lordshipprivately--waited, as I always do, patiently. It's safer inside,lieutenant."
"Come in, then." It was clearly best for me to know all he had to say.
As soon as we were inside and I had turned up the lights I placed himclose to the biggest of them; and a more villainous, hangdog lookingrascal I never wish to see. A redhaired, dirty, cunning, drinking Jewof the lowest class; with lies and treachery and deceit written onevery feature and gesture. The only thing truthful about him was theevidence of character stamped on his self-convicting appearance.
"I wonder what you are to me," I thought as I scanned him closely, hisflinty shifting eyes darting everywhere to escape my gaze.
"Well, what do you want? I'm about sick of you." A quick lifting ofthe head and eyebrows let a questioning glance of mingled malice, hate,and menace dart up into my face.
"Lieutenant, your child is starving and his mother also; and I, herfather, am tired of working my fingers to the bone to maintain themboth."
"What are you working at now?" I asked with a sneer. I spoke in thisway to hide my unpleasant surprise at the unsavoury news that laybehind his words. The more I looked at him the more was I impressedwith a conviction of his rascality: but the fact that he was ascoundrel did not at all exclude the possibility that some ugly episodeconcerning me lay behind. On the contrary it increased the probability.
"I've not come to talk about my work, but to get money," said myvisitor in a surly tone. "And money I must have."
"Blackmail," was my instant conclusion: and my line of conduct was aspromptly taken. There is but one way to take with blackmailers--crushthem.
"Did you understand what I said just now? I am sick of you and yourways, and I have done with you."
The man shifted about uneasily and nervously without replying at once,and then in a sly, muttering tone, and with an indescribable suggestionof menace said:--
"There are some ugly stories afloat, Lieutenant."
"Yes: and in Russia, those who tell them smell the atmosphere of a gaolas often as those against whom they are told. A word from me and youknow where you will be within half a dozen hours." This was a safeshot with such a rascal.
"But you'll never speak that word," he said sullenly. "We've talkedall this over before. You can't shake me off. I know too much."
Obviously my former self had handled this man badly: probably throughweakness: and had allowed him to get an ugly hold. He was presuming onthis now.
I took two rapid turns up and down the room in thought. Then I made adecision. Taking ink and paper I sat down to the table and wrote,repeating the words aloud:--
"To the Chief of Police.--The Bearer of this----"
"How do you spell your rascally name?" I cried, interrupting thewriting and looking across at him.
"You know. You've written it often enough to Anna."
Good. I had got the daughter's name at any rate.
"Yes, but this is for the police, and must be accurate." The start hegave was an unmistakable start of fear.
"Everyone knows how to spell Peter, I suppose. And you ought to knowhow to spell Prashil, seeing your own child has to bear the name."
"The Bearer of this, Peter Prashil, declares that he has someinformation to give to you which incriminates me. Take his statementin writing and have it investigated. Hold him prisoner, meanwhile, forhe has been attempting to blackmail me. You, or your agents will knowhim well.
Signed, ALEXIS PETROVITCH. Lieutenant, Moscow Infantry Regiment."
"Now," I cried, rising, giving him the paper, and throwing open thedoor. "Take that paper and go straight to the Police. Tell them allyou know. Or if you like it better stand to-morrow at midday in theSquare of the Cathedral and shout it out with all your lungs for thewhole of Moscow to hear. Or get it inserted in every newspaper in thecity. Go!" and I pointed the way and stared at him sternly and angrily.
"I don't want to harm you."
"Go!" I said. "Or I'll wake my servant and have the police broughthere."
For a minute he tried to return my look, and fumbled with the paperirresolutely.
"Go!" I repeated, staring at him as intently as before.
He stood another minute scowling at me from under his ragged red browsand then seemed to concentrate the fury of a hundred curses into onetremendous oath, which he snarled out with baffled rage, as he tore thepaper into pieces and threw them down on the table.
"You know I can't go to the police, damn you," he cried.
I had beaten him. I had convinced him of my earnestness. I shut thedoor then and sitting down again, said calmly:--
"Now you understand me a little better than ever before; and we willhave the last conversation that will ever pass between us. Tell meplainly and clearly what you want. Quick."
"Justice for my daughter."
"What else?"
"The money you've always promised me for my services," with a pausebefore the last word.
"What services?"
"You know."
"Answer. Don't dare to speak like that," I cried sternly.
"For holding my tongue--about Anna--and--the child. I want my share,don't I?" he answered sullenly, scowling at me. "Is a father to berobbed of a child and then cheated?" He asked this with a burst ofanger as if, vile as he was, he was compelled to stifle his sense ofshame with a rush of rage.
"Hush-money, eh? And payment for your daughter's shame. Well, whatelse?" I threw into my manner all the contempt I could.
"My help in other things--with others." He uttered the sentence with aleer of suggestion that sent my blood to boiling point; and he followedit up with a recital of mean and despicable tricks of vice and fouldissipation until in sheer disgust I was compelled to stop him.
What more the man might have had to say I knew not; but I had heardenough. It was clear that I was indeed a bitter blackguard, and thatfor my purposes I had made use of this scoundrel, who had apparentlybegun by selling me his own daughter. It was clear also that all thismust end and some sort of arrangement be made.
At the same time I knew enough of Russian society to be perfectly wellaware that not one of the acts which this man had suggested would countfor either crime or wrong against me. One was expected to keep theseamy side of one's life decorously out of sight; but if that weredone, a few "slips" of the kind were taken as a matter of course.
Personally, I hold old-fashioned notions on these things, and it wasinfinitely painful to me that I should be held guilty of suchblackguardism. I would at least
do what justice I could.
"I have been thinking much about these things lately," I said, after apause. "And I have come to a decision. I shall make provision foryou..."
"Your honour was always generosity itself," said the fellow squirminginstantly.
"On condition that you leave Moscow. You will go to Kursk; and thereten roubles will be paid to you weekly for a year; by which time if youhaven't drunk yourself to death, you will have found the means to earnyour living."
"And Anna?"
"Your daughter will call to-morrow afternoon on my sister----"
"Your sister?" cried the man in the deepest astonishment.
"My sister," I repeated, "at this address"--I wrote it down--"and thecourse to be taken will depend on what is then decided. You understandthat the whole story will be sifted, so she must be careful to tell thetruth.
"The discreet truth, your honour?" he asked with another leer.
"No, the whole truth, without a single lie of yours. Mind, one lie byeither of you, and not a kopeck shall you have."
With that I sent him about his business. I resolved to have the wholestory investigated; and it occurred to me that it would be a good testof my sister's womanliness to let her deal with the case. I reflectedtoo that it would do her no harm to know a little of the undercurrentof her brother's life.
That done, I turned into bed after as full a day as I had ever lived,and slept well.
Reflection led me to approve the plan of sending the old Jew's daughterto Olga; and after breakfast the next morning I wrote a little note toprepare her for the visit.
"This afternoon," I wrote, "you will have a visit from a girl whosename is Anna Prashil, and she will tell you something about yourbrother's history which I think your woman's wit will let you deal withbetter than I can. We will have the story sifted, but you can do twothings in the matter better than I--judge whether the girl is animpostor; and if not, what is the best thing to do for her. I will seeyou afterwards."
I sat smoking and thinking over this business when my servant, Borlas,announced that a lady wished to see me; and ushered in a tall womanclosely veiled.
I was prepared now for anything that could happen.
I rose and bowed to her; but she stood without a word until Borlas hadgone out.
"Don't pretend that you don't know me," she said, in a voice naturallysweet and full and musical, but now resonant with agitation and anger.
It was a very awkward position. Obviously I ought to know her, so Ithought it best to speak as if I did.
"I make no attempt at pretence with you," I said, equivocally. "Butaren't you going to sit down?"
"No attempt at pretence? What was your conduct last night if notpretence--maddening, infamous, insulting pretence?"
I knew her now. It was the handsome angry woman whose signals at theball I had ignored--Paula Tueski. She had probably come to upbraid mefor my coldness and neglect. "Hell holds no fury like a womanscorned," thought I; and this was a woman with a very generous capacityfor rage. If she recognised me....
"Won't you take off that thick veil, which prevents my seeing your veryangry eyes. You know I always admire you in a passion, Paula." I didnot know how I ought to address her so I made the plunge with herChristian name.
"Why dared you insult me by not speaking to me at the ball last night?Why dared you break your word? You pledged me your honour"--this withquite glorious scorn--"that you would introduce your impudent chit of asister to me at the ball. And instead, my God, that I am alive to sayit!--you dared to sit with her laughing, and jibing and flouting at me.Pretending--you, you of all men on this earth--that you did not knowme! Do you think I will endure that? Do you think----" Here ragechoked her speech, and she ended in incoherency, half laugh, half sob,and all hysterical.
I was sorry she stopped at that point. The more she told me the easierwould be my choice of policy. From what she said I gathered this wasanother of the pledges made under the fear of Devinsky's sword.
"You know perfectly well that Olga is exceedingly difficult to coerce--
"Bah! Don't talk to me of difficulties. You would be frightened by afool's bladder and call it difficulties. I suppose you shaved yourbeard and moustache because they were difficulties, eh? Difficulties,perhaps, in the way of getting out of Moscow unrecognised on the eve ofa fight? You know what I mean, eh?"
For a moment I half thought she, or the police agents of her husbandmight have guessed the truth, and this made me hesitate in my reply.
"Did you think I was afraid to kill Major Devinsky, or ashamed to letit be known that I am the best swordsman in the regiment?"
"Why have you never told me that?" she cried with feminineinconsequence. "I don't understand you, Alexis. You want me one dayto get this man assassinated because you say you know he can run youthrough the body just as he pleases, and you promise me the friendshipof your sister if I will do it; and yet the very next, you go out andmeet him and he has not a chance with you. But why did you do it? Ihave heard of it all. Did you want to try me?"
I thanked her mentally for that cue.
"At all events two things are clear now," I said. "I did not want toget out of Moscow for fear of Devinsky, and you would not do that whichI told you could alone save my life. You did not think my life worthsaving." I spoke very coldly and deliberately.
"So that is it?" she cried, with a quick return of her rage. "Youinsult me before all Moscow because I will not be a murderess--yourhired assassin."
It was an excellent situation. If I had devised it myself, I could nothave arranged it more deftly, I thought.
I shrugged my shoulders and said nothing; but the silence and thegesture were more expressive than many words.
My visitor tore off the veil she had worn till now, and throwingherself into a chair looked at me as though trying to read my innermostthoughts: while I was trying to read hers and was more than halfsuspicious that she might see enough to let her jump at the truth.
But a rapid reflection shewed me I should be wise to use the means sheherself had supplied, as an excuse for the change in me toward her. Itwas dangerous, of course, to set at defiance a woman of her manifestforce of character and in her position; but in attempting to continueeven an innocent intrigue with her there was equal danger.
She remained silent a long time, considering as it seemed to me, howshe should prevent my breaking away from her. She was a clever woman,and now that the first outburst of emotion was over, she abandoned allhysterical display and resolved, as her words soon proved, to appeal tomy fears rather than to any old love.
She laughed very softly and musically when she spoke next.
"So you think you can do as you will with me, Alexis?"
"On the contrary," I replied, quite as gently and with an answeringsmile. "I have no wish to have anything at all to do with you."
"Yet you loved me once," she murmured, the involuntary closing of hereyelids being the only sign of the pain my brutal words caused.
"The sweetest things in life are the memories of the past, Paula. Ifyou really loved me as you said, it will be something for you toremember that while you prized my life, you held my love."
"A man would starve on the memory of yesterday's dinner."
"True; or hope that somebody else will give him even a more satisfyingmeal."
"You could always turn a woman's phrases, Alexis."
"And you a man's head, Paula."
"Bah! I have not come here to cap phrases."
"Yet there can be little else than phrases between us for the future.You have shewn me what store you set on my life."
"Did you think I could love you if you were such a coward that youdared not fight a duel?"
"You thought I dared not when you refused to help me."
"You said you dared not. But do you think I believed you? Could Ibelieve so meanly of the man I loved?"
"You discussed the matter as if you believed it," said I; making a leapin
the dark and blundering badly.
"Discussed it? What do you mean? With whom? Do you think I am mad?I sat down at once and answered your mad letter in the only way itcould be answered."
Great Heavens! I had apparently been fool enough in my desperatecowardice to actually write the proposal. The letter itself, if shedared to use it, spelt certain ruin.
"Well, you answered the test your own way, and...." I shrugged myshoulders as a suggestive end to the sentence.
She paused a moment looking thoughtfully at me. Then knitting herbrows, she asked:
"What is the real meaning of this change, Alexis? Do try for once tobe frank. You have always half a dozen secret meanings. You haveboasted of this in regard to others--perhaps because you were afraid todo anything else."
"Are you a judge of my fears? I think I have already shewn you thatthat which I led you to believe frightened me most had in reality noterrors at all for me."
"One thing I know you are afraid of--to break with me." This came witha flash of impetuous anger, bursting out in spite of her efforts atself-restraint.
I smiled.
"We shall see. I have not broken with you. It is you who have brokenwith me. How often have you not sworn to me," I cried passionately,making another shot--"that there was nothing upon this earth that youwould not do if I only asked you? What value should I now set on abroken love-vow?"
"Had I thought you were even in danger, I would have dared even that,Alexis, dangerous and desperate as you know such a hazard must be."She spoke now with a depth of tone that was eloquent of feeling. "WhatI told you is true--and you know it. There is nothing I will not dofor you. Bid me do it now to shew you my earnestness. Shall I leavemy husband?--I will do it. Shall I tell the world of Moscow the taleof my love?--I will do it. Nay, bid me strip myself and walk nakedthrough the streets of the city, calling on your name and proclaimingmy love--and I will do it with a smile, glorying in my shame because itbrings you to me and me to you--never to part again."
This flood of passion spoken with such earnestness as I had never heardfrom the lips of woman before was almost more than I could endure tohear without telling the truth to her. It abashed me, and the story ofthe deception I was practising on her rose to my lips: but before Icould speak she had resumed, and her wonderful voice had a power suchas I cannot describe. It seemed to compel sympathy; and as it becamethe vehicle for every varying phase of feeling it almost raised an echoof feeling in me.
"You don't know the fire you have kindled; you don't dream of itsvolcanic fierceness. I do not think I myself knew it until last nightwhen you turned from me in silence and coldness, as though, my God! asthough your lips had never rested on mine, or mine on yours, in pledgeof delirious passion. Ah me! You cannot act like this, Alexis. Itwas you who warmed into life the love that burns in me, and it is notyours to quench. You must not, cannot, aye--and dare not do it. Youknow this. Come, say that all this is just your pique, your temper,your whim, your test, your anything; and that all is still between usas it must always be--always, Alexis, always."
If I had been the man she thought I was, I cannot but believe she wouldhave prevailed with me. The seductiveness of her manner, her absoluteself abandonment, and the plain and unmistakable proof of her love,were enough to touch any man placed as he would have been.
But I had nothing to prompt my kinder impulses. She was only astranger: infinitely beautiful, passionate, and melting: but yetnothing more than a stranger. And I had no answering passion to befired by her glances, her pleas, and her love. She was a hindrance tome; and I was only conscious that I was in a way compelled to act thepart of a cad in listening to her and cheating her. And I could onlyremain silent.
She read my silence for obstinacy, and then began to shew the nature ofthe power she held over me. I was glad of this; as it seemed to giveme a sort of justification for my action. It was an attack; and I hadto defend myself.
"You do not answer me. You are cold, moody, silent--and yet notunmoved. I wonder of what you are thinking. Yet there can be but oneburden of your thoughts. You are mine, Alexis, mine; always, tilldeath--as you have sworn often enough. And after your bravery I loveyou more than ever. I love a brave man, Alexis. Every brave man. Iwould give them the kiss of honour. And that you are the bravest ofthem all is to me the sweetest of knowledge. Yesterday, when I heardhow you had humbled that bully, I could do naught but thrill with prideevery time I thought of it. It was my Alexis who had done it. Won'tyou kiss me once as I kissed you a thousand times in thought yesterday?No? Well, you will before I go. And then I began to think how glad Iwas that I had made it impossible for you ever to think of giving meup. I know you are brave;--but even the bravest men shudder at thewhisper of Siberia."
She paused to give this time to work its effect.
"I wonder how other women love; whether, like me, they think it fair toweave a net round the man they love, strong enough to hold thestrongest, wide enough to reach to the Poles, and yet fine enough to beunseen?" She laughed. "I have done this with you, sweetheart. Youknow how often you have asked me for information and I have got it foryou--you have wanted it for the Nihilists. Knowing this I have givenit and--you have used it. Once or twice you have told them what wasnot true, and now you are suspected and in some danger of your life.But you are guarded also and watched. Two days ago you were at therailway station in private clothes and with your dear face shaven; youwere trying to leave Moscow. But you probably saw the uselessness ofthe attempt and gave it up. Had you really tried, you would have beenstopped. Do you think you can hope to escape from me? Do you thinkyou can break through the net-work of the most wonderful police systemthe world ever knew? Psh! Do not dream of it. Moscow is a fine,large, splendid city. But Moscow is also a prison; and the man whowould seek to break out of it, but dashes his breast against the drawnsword of implacable authority."
"You have a pleasant humour, and a light touch in your methods ofwooing," said I, bitterly. She had made a great impression on me.
"The wooing is complete, Alexis. It was your work. I do but guardagainst being deceived. Escape from Moscow being hopeless for you, youhave only to remember that a word from me in my husband's ear will openfor you the dumb horrid mouth of a Russian dungeon which will eitherclose on you for ever, or let you out branded, disgraced, and manacledto start on the long hopeless march to Siberia."
I had rather admired the woman before; now I began to hate her. Icould not fail to see the truth behind her words; and a flash ofinspiration shewed me now that the safest course I could take was toshake off the character I had so lightly assumed. But her next wordsbared the impossibility of that.
"Do you think now it is safe to break away from me? But that is notall. There is another consideration. You have drawn your sister intothese Nihilist snares. You know how she is compromised. I know ittoo. There are more dungeons than one in Russia. If you were in one,I would see to it that she, who has scorned and flouted and insultedme, was in another; with her chance also of a jaunt across the plains."The flippancy of this last phrase was a measure of her hate.
The thought of the poor girl's danger beat me. What this woman saidwas all true--damnably, horribly, sickeningly true.
"Have you planned all this?" I asked, when I could bring myself tospeak calmly.
"No, no, Heaven forbid. I had not a thought of it in all my heart; nota thought, save of love and a desire to shield you from any real dangerthat threatened you, till,"--and her voice changedsuddenly--"yesterday, when you loosed all the torrents that can flowfrom a jealous woman's heart. I am a woman; but I am a Russian."
She was lying now, for she was contradicting what she had said justbefore.
"My sister's fate is nothing to me," I said, callously. "She has madeher bed, let her lie on it. But as for myself"--I had but one possibleto seem to yield--"I care nothing. I am not the coward you oncethought me, and my meeting with Devinsky shews you that clearly enough.B
ut I doubted your love when I found you did not answer to the test Imade."
"You do not doubt it now. I am here at the risk of my life; at therisk of both our lives," she said, her eyes aflame with feeling as shehung on my deliberately spoken words.
"This morning has been a further test, and I should not be a sane manif I doubted you now, or ever again."
"Then kiss me, Alexis."
She sprang from her chair and threw herself into my arms, loading mewith wild tempestuous caresses, like a woman distraught with passion.
I hated myself even while I endured it; and nothing would have made meplay so loathesome and repugnant a part but the thought that Olga'ssafety demanded it.
She was still clinging about me, calling me by my name, caressing me,upbraiding me for my coldness, and chiding me for having put her tosuch a test, when a loud knock at the door of the room disturbed usboth.
It was my discreet servant Borlas; the loudness of his knock being themeasure of his discretion.
He said that my sister was waiting to see me.