CHAPTER VII.
A LESSON IN NIHILISM.
I was not a little annoyed that so soon after Olga had warned meagainst the wiles of Paula Tueski, she should come just when my mostunwelcome lover was in my rooms--and at such a moment. But I thrustaside my irritation--which was not against Olga--and went to her,curious to learn what had brought her to visit me.
She told me in a few sentences. A friend had been to warn her that Iwas in danger from the Nihilists and that unless I took the greatestcare, I should be assassinated. The poor girl was all pale andagitated with alarm on my account, and had rushed off to hand thewarning on to me. She was half hysterical. She wanted me to fly atonce, to claim the protection of the British Consulate; to proclaim myidentity and get away even before my passport came from her brother.
"There is not the danger you fear, Olga," I said, reassuringly. "Ishall find means to avoid it. But I want to speak to you about anothermatter. Paula Tueski is here"--my sister shrank back and looked at mewith a hard expression on her face such as I had not seen there in allour talks. Evidently she hated the woman cordially. "You are right inyour estimate of her in one respect, and for the moment she has beatenme. Much as I dislike the business, we must manage to blind her eyesand tie her hands for the moment--or I for one see none but badbusiness ahead."
"How comes she to be here?" asked Olga, in a voice of suppressed anger.
"I will tell you all that another time," I answered, speaking hurriedlyand in a very low tone. "Another point has occurred to me. She isvery bitter against you and has been urging your brother to get you toreceive her. This was to have been done last night. My apparentrefusal to speak to her at all came as a crowning insult, and she wasmad. There is one way in which I think we might the more easilydeceive her, if you can bring yourself to do it. Come in now and letme present her to you: or let me go and tell her that you will call onher."
"Will it make things safer for you?" she asked, always thinking of thetrouble into which she would persist in saying she had brought me.
"It would make them safer for you, I think."
"I care nothing for myself. She can't harm me. Do you wish it? Doyou think it desirable? I will do it if you say yes." She spoke soearnestly that I smiled... Then she added:--"Ah, it is so good to havesomeone that I can trust. That's why I leave it to you."
"I don't wish it," I answered, gravely, "because she is the reverse ofa good woman, but I do think it would be prudent."
"Let's go to her at once," cried the girl, getting up from her chairreadily. "We can talk afterwards. That's the one privilege...." shechecked herself and then coloured slightly. I pretended not to noticeit; but this absolute confidence pleased me not a little.
"Bear in mind, we are only playing a part with this woman," I whispered.
"I know. She is too dangerous for me ever to forget that, or to playbadly." She dashed a glance of quick understanding at me and thenseemed to change suddenly into a Russian grande dame. An indescribableair of distinction manifested itself in a hundred little signs, and shecarried herself like a stately duchess, as we entered the room wherePaula Tueski sat waiting impatiently.
A great glad light of triumph leapt into the latter's eyes as she sawOlga was with me, and she, too, drew herself up as I made the twoformally known to each other. It was a delightful bit of comedy. Olgawas full of quite stately regrets that she had not had the pleasure ofknowing the other long before: said that her brother's friends were, ofcourse, her friends; and that she hoped to call that week on MadameTueski and that Madame would find an opportunity of returning the visitspeedily. She made such an appearance of unbending to the other, thatthe difference between them was all the more pronounced.
Madame Tueski on her side was too full of the seeming triumph over usto be able to be natural with my sister; and she alternately gushed andfroze as she first tried to captivate and then would remember that Olgawas only consenting through compulsion to know her. The result was asridiculous as an episode could be beneath which lurked suchpossibilities of tragedy.
It lasted only a few minutes when I suggested, and I had a purpose,that the two should leave the house together. I wished to get rid ofPaula Tueski without further love-making: and desired in addition thatif there were any spies about the house they should see the twotogether, so that if any tales were carried to the Chief of the Policethey should be innocent ones.
"I will call later in the day if possible," I promised Olga, as sheleft.
"Ugh, how I hate her;" was the whispered reply, inconsequential butvery feminine. And I shut the door on the two and went back to my roomto think out this new set of most complicated problems.
Paula Tueski's visit had changed everything; and I saw it would befoolish not to look that fact straight in the face. I could not seehow things would end; but certainly flight, for the time, was simplyimpossible. For myself, I did not much care. I had had a few hours ofexcitement which had completely drawn me out of the morbid mood inwhich I had arrived in Moscow; and nothing had happened to make me muchmore anxious to live than I had been then.
Life might have been endurable enough, if I could have gone on with myarmy career as Lieutenant Petrovitch; but not if the abominable anddisgraceful intrigue were to be added as a necessary condition. Thatwould be unendurable: and had I been a free agent, I would have endedthe whole thing there and then, by admitting the deception and puttingup with the results. Indeed, it occurred to me that in a country likeRussia, where I knew that courage stood for much and military skill formore, the reputation I had managed to make would be likely enough totell in my favour if I told the truth and asked leave to volunteer.
But was I a free agent?
Look at the thing as I would I could see no means by which I could getout of the mess, even taking my punishment, without leaving my sisterin deep trouble. If Paula Tueski found that I had humbugged her andthat Olga was in the plot, it was as plain as a gallows that she wouldbe simply mad and would wreak her spite on the girl.
Could I leave Olga to this? The words of confidence she had spokenwere still echoing in my ears--and very pleasant music they made--andcould I quietly save my own skin and leave her in the lurch? It wasnot likely that I should do anything of the sort; and I didn'tentertain it for a moment as a possibility. The girl had trusted tome; and I must make her safety the first consideration of any plan Iformed.
But how?
I could see only one way. It was that she should get out of Moscow,and indeed out of Russia altogether. It was not probable that thewoman Tueski would place any obstacle in the way, provided I did notattempt to leave as well; and I came to the conclusion that the bestpossible course would be for Olga to take her departure at once. Shecould go and join her brother in Paris, or wherever he had gone; andthen I could carry on alone the play, farce, burlesque, comedy, ortragedy, as it might prove.
It was early evening before I could get round to see Olga, and then Ihad to spend some time with her aunt, the Countess Palitzin, an ugly,garrulous and dyspeptic old lady, who wanted to hear all about theDevinsky business over again: and then went on to tell me of somefamous duels that had happened in her young days.
I observed that Olga was very thoughtful during the interview with theaunt, but as soon as we were alone she put her hand into mine and witha look that spoke deep feeling and pleasure, said:--
"You could have done nothing that would have better pleased me--nothingcould shew so clearly that you understand me better than anyone everdid before. I have seen the girl and listened to her story andquestioned her. I think there is yet good in her and I am convincedshe tells the truth. She longs to be separated from her dreadfulfather...."
"He leaves for Kursk to-morrow," I said.
"Good. Then I will make the care of the others my charge. I don't domuch that is useful; and if I can make that life happier and give thechild the chance of growing up to be a good Russian, I shall have donesomething. What say you?"
/> She seemed more admirable than ever in my eyes for this; but Ihesitated a moment what to say; and she, quick to read my looks, added,her own features taking a reflection of my doubts:--
"But of course that is all subject to your opinion. Is there anythingelse you think better? But I should like this very much:" and a smilebroke over her face.
"The plan is excellent; but there is a difficulty, unless you can makeyour arrangements at once and permanently, or at any rate for aconsiderable time ahead. Or you might perhaps better arrange for themother and child to leave Russia."
The girl looked perplexed; and fifty little notes of interrogationcrinkled in her forehead and shot from her eyes.
"There is something behind that, of course," she said. "What is it?"
"I think it would be the best plan if you yourself were to go away on alittle tour. You have had the idea of leaving Russia, you know, andgoing to your brother as soon as he has made a home in Paris, orwherever he stops."
"Well?" when I paused.
"Bluntly, I think you would be safer across the frontier;" and I toldher at some length my reasons.
"But what of you? Do you think I do not wish to share the successwhich my brother is enjoying here? Or are you thinking of leavingRussia also?" By a swift turn of the head she prevented me from seeingher face as she asked this.
I laughed as I answered lightly:--"No. The state of my health,combined with regimental duties, social engagements, Nihilisticcontracts, and other complications render it a little difficult toleave at present."
The girl did not laugh, however, but kept her face turned from me; andI could not help admiring the poise of the head and the gracefuloutline it made against the grey evening light falling on her from thewindow.
She seemed so much more womanly than the laughing girl I had met firston the Moscow platform, and it was difficult to think that so short atime had passed since then. I filled up the long pause during whichshe appeared to be making up her mind what answer to give me, bythinking what a pleasant sister she was and how sorry I should be tolose her.
"Well?" I asked, when the pause had lasted a very long time.
"I am very much obliged to you for your advice," she said, turninground and looking coldly at me, and speaking in a formal precise tone;"but I find myself unable to take advantage of it. I cannotconveniently leave Moscow just now." Then just when I was at a loss toknow how I had offended her, she changed suddenly. She stamped herfoot quite angrily, a flush of indignation reddened her cheeks and hereyes flashed as she looked at me and cried:--"And I thought youunderstood me! Do you think we Petrovitch's are all cowards? And thatI am like Alexis, having got you into this fearful trouble would runaway and leave you to get out of it alone?" For an instant shestruggled with her emotion. Then she exclaimed: "It is an insult!" andbursting into tears she rushed out of the room.
I stared in blank amazement at the door after it had closed behind her,and wondering what it was all about, left the house in a medley ofconfused thoughts, in which regret for having in some clumsy wayworried her and the consciousness that she was really a plucky girlintermingled themselves with the memory of how pretty she had looked inher emotional indignation. The thought of her tears, and that I hadcaused them, gave me the worst twinges, however; and this keptrecurring and bothering me during the whole evening.
At the club, where I went from Olga's house, I was careful to maintainthe same part as on the previous day: the character of a stern,reserved, observant man, moody but very resolute and determined. Not asign of the bully nor a symptom of braggadocio: but just the kind ofman who, while quite willing to let others take their own way in life,means to take his. Unready to force a quarrel, but equally unready topass over a slight; and relentless if involved.
This was pretty much my own character, with some of the dash and lifepressed out of it; and it was easy enough for me to maintain it. Thatnight I played a little. I knew I had formerly been a pretty heavygambler; but to-night I purposely stopped short in the full tide ofwinning. I had lost at first, and the luck turned with a rush, as itwill, and as soon as I had pulled back my losses I stopped, to theastonishment of all who had been accustomed to find in me a heavyplunger.
"You'll be donning the cowl, next, Petrovitch, and preachingself-denial," said one, a handsome laughing youngster who had beenbemoaning his own losses a minute before.
"A good thing for the Turks, if he does it before the war," saidanother subaltern.
Some others chimed in, and it was easy to see from the drift of thetalk how genuine was the turn in the tide of opinion about me.
I left the club and wanting fresh air while I thought over matters Iwent for a short walk. I knew the City pretty well, of course, owingto my long residence there; and the changes since I had left were notvery considerable.
Walking thoughtfully down one of the broad streets I became consciousthat I was being followed. I had had a similar sensation before; butwhat Paula Tueski had told me about being watched and guarded, and thewarning that Olga had given me now caused me to attach more importanceto the matter.
It is one of the most hateful sensations I know, to feel that one'sfootsteps are being dogged by a spy. I turned round sharply severaltimes, and each time noticed a man at some distance behind me trying toslip out of sight. He was clever at his business, and several feints Imade in the attempt to shake him off failed. But I escaped him atlength in the great Church of St Martin. Everyone knows the manyoutlets of that enormous pile. It has as many entrances as a rabbitwarren, and most of them are nearly always open. I went in by one doorand left instantly by another, and running off at top speed, I was outof sight before the spy could well know I had left the building. Iseemed to breathe more freely as soon as I had shaken the fellow off.
I stayed out some time, renewing my acquaintance with several parts ofthe city; and it was late when I reached home--so late that the streetswere deserted.
This fact nearly cost me my life.
I was passing a narrow street when, without the slightestwarning--though I cannot doubt that in some way my approach had beensignalled--four men rushed out on me with drawn knives. By mere chancetheir first rush did not prove fatal; for two of them who struck at mecame so close, that the knives gashed my clothes.
But when they missed their chance, I did not give them another. Isprang aside, whipped out my sword, sent up a lusty cry for help thatmade the houses ring again, and set my back against the wall to sell mylife as dearly as I could. They closed round me and attackedinstantly; a swift lunge sent my blade through one of them, a swingingcut made another drop his knife with a great cry of pain, and anunexpected, but tremendously violent back-handed blow with the hilt ofmy sword right in the face sent a third down reeling and half senseless.
A swinging cut made another drop his knife with a greatcry of pain.]
This sort of reception was by no means what they had expected; and as ashout in answer to my cry for help came from a distance, the unwoundedman and the two who could get away rushed off at top speed; while thefourth who had only been dazed, struggled to his feet and would havestaggered off as well had I let him. But I stopped him, made him giveup his knife, and then I drove him before me to my rooms--only a veryshort distance off--without waiting for the man to come up who hadreplied to my shout for help. I did not want any help now. No one manwas at all likely to do me any harm, and I might thus get to know thecause of the attack, without being troubled with any outsideinterference.
"Now, why did you seek to kill me?" I asked sternly, as soon as the manwas in my room. "You're not a thief; your dress and style shew that.Why, then, do you turn assassin?"
"There should be no need for me to tell you that," said he, speakingwith vehemence.
"Nevertheless, I ask it," I returned, with even more sternness.Evidently I was going to make another discovery; and when the manwaited a long time before answering, I scanned him closely to see if Icould guess his object. Clearly he was no t
hief. He was fairly welldressed in the style of an ordinary tradesman or a superior mechanic;his appearance betokened rather a sedentary life and his muscles hadcertainly not been hardened by any physical training. As certainly hewas no police spy. He was the last man in the world to have beenpicked out for such a job as that of the attempt on my life. There wasno probability of there being any private feud against me; that seemedridiculous.
I could only conclude, therefore, that the attack was from theNihilists. The man looked much more like an emissary of thatkind--able to give a sudden thrust with a sharp knife; but incapable ofdoing more. The instant I had come to this conclusion, and I came toit much more quickly than I can write it, I resolved what to do.
"I am glad this encounter has taken place--not omitting the result, ofcourse," I added grimly. "There is no cause whatever for this decree."
The man's lip curled somewhat contemptuously, as I made this protest.He seemed to have formed the average low estimate of the value of myword. Everywhere I turned I was met by the worthlessness of the scampwhose name I now bore. The contempt silenced, even while it angered,me.
"You did not attend," he said curtly. "A man's absence is poor proofof either innocence or courage. You are not only a traitor but acoward."
"What!" I turned on him as if he had struck me.
This puny, pale, insignificant weakling faced me as dauntlessly as ifthe positions were reversed and I was in his power, not he in mine.
"You are brave enough here now, no doubt--you armed against meunarmed." He threw this sneering taunt at me with deliberate insolence.
I stared at him first in amazement, and then in admiration.
I had but to raise my hand to kill him with a stroke. He read mythoughts.
"What do I care for my life, do you think? Take it, if you like. Onemurder more--even in cold blood--is a little matter to a soldier."
A couple of turns up and down the room cooled me.
"I don't want your life," said I, calmly. "Though it's dangerous tocall me a coward, and were you other than what you are, I'd ram theword down your throat. With you, however, I'll deal differently. Yousay I was afraid to attend your last meeting. I'll do better thanmerely call that a lie, I'll prove it one. Call another meeting in asbig a place as you can, pack it with all the deadliest cut-throats youcan find, resolve to shoot me down as I enter the door, and if I darenot attend it, then call me coward--but not till then." My blood wasup now, and I spoke as hotly as I felt.
"Will you come?" asked the man.
"Call the meeting and see. Nay, more. Between now and the time of themeeting think of the wildest and most dangerous scheme that you can totest what a desperate man can do for the cause, and give me the lead init. And when I've failed, write me down traitor, and not till then.And now, go, or by God I may forget myself and lay hands on you."
My voice rang out in such sharp stern tones that the man's antagonismwas beaten down by my earnestness. My fierceness seemed to fire him,and when I threw open the door for him to go, he stood a moment andstared into my face, his own all eagerness, light and wildness. Thenhe exclaimed in a tone of intense excitement:---
"By God, I believe you're true after all." And with that he went.
It was not until the man had been gone some time and I was pacing upand down my room, still excited, and revolving the chances of this,perhaps the most desperate of all the complications which threatenedme, that I saw a letter on tinted paper, lying on my table. I took itup and found it was from Olga, and my thoughts went back with a rush toher and to the circumstances under which I had left her that evening.
The letter was not very long.
MY DEAR BROTHER,
"I have not ceased to regret the hasty words I spoke to you thisevening. Forgive me. Of course you do not think me a coward; and Ican see now that you must have some other motive for wishing me toleave Moscow and Russia, while you remain here alone to face--what mayhave to be faced. But whatever your reason is, I cannot do it. Do youunderstand that? I cannot. That is stronger than I will not. I thinkyou know me. If so, you know that I will not. If I thought youbelieved me capable of leaving you in the lurch after having broughtall this on you, I should wish I had never had--such a brother. I willnever even let you mention the matter to me again.
Your sister, OLGA."
I read this letter through two or three times, each time with a higheropinion of the staunch-hearted little writer. And at the end Isurprised myself considerably by pressing the letter involuntarily tomy lips.
She was a girl worth a good tough fight.