"Who is in the sleigh, Kaya, can you see? Keep low in the shadow and
don't move your head."
"The Countess, Velasco, and Petrokoff and two other men."
"Gendarmes?"
"I think they are gendarmes, Velasco. They look from side to side of
the road as they pass and urge the driver forward."
"Bózhe moi, little one! Keep close to me and hold your breath; in
another moment they will be past."
"Now--Velasco! Now they are out of sight; the last tinkle of the bells
sounds in the distance. Shall we lie here, or follow?"
The gypsey took a long breath and rose to his feet, brushing the snow
from his trousers and coat. The girl still sat crouching behind the
drift, peering ahead into the dark windings of the road and listening.
"Come, little one!" said Velasco, "The fields are covered deep with the
snow; there are no paths and we cannot go back. Give me your hand.
You will freeze if you linger."
The girl put her hand in his, springing up, and they darted into the
dark windings together, making little rushes forward, hand in hand;
then poising on one foot and listening.
"They might turn back you know, Velasco."
"Do you hear the bells?"
"Not yet."
Then they ran on.
The night grew darker and darker; the sky was heavy and black with
clouds, and between them a faint light flitted occasionally like the
ghost of a moon, but feeble and wan. It struggled with the clouds,
piercing them for an instant; and then it was gone and the sky grew
blacker, like a great inky; surface, reflecting shadows on the
snowfields, gigantic and strange. The wind had died down, but the cold
was intense, bitter, and the chill of the ice crept into the bones.
"What is that dark thing ahead on the road, can you see, Velasco?"
"Hist--Kaya, I see! It is big and black. It seems to be a house, or
an inn, for look--there are lights like stars just appearing."
"Not that, Velasco, look closer, in front of the house; does it look
like a sleigh?"
Velasco's grip tightened on the woolen glove of the girl and they
halted together, half hesitating.
"A sleigh, Kaya? Stay here in the shadow--I will steal ahead and look."
"Don't leave me; let me go with you!"
The woolen glove clung to him and they went forward again, a step at a
time, with eyes straining through the snow.
"Is it the sleigh of the Countess, big and black with three horses
abreast?"
"Yes--it looks so."
"Is there some one inside?"
"The driver perhaps! No, there is no one. Velasco, they have gone
into the inn to drink something warm and ask questions perhaps--'Have
you seen two gypsies, one dark and one fair?'--Ah, Velasco, what shall
we do? Shall we creep past on tiptoe?"
The girl drew close to him and looked up in his face. "What shall we
do, Velasco--speak! You stand there with your eyes half shut, in a
dream. Shall we run, Velasco? Shall we run on ahead?"
The gypsey put his finger to his lips and crept forward. "This is a
God-forsaken hole, Kaya!" he whispered, "No telegraph--and perhaps no
horses; they could only get oxen or mules. It will take several
minutes to drink their hot tea--and the brutes are quite fresh!"
He moved cautiously, swiftly, to the hitching post, fumbling with the
straps. The horses whinnied a little, nosing one another and pawing
the earth.
"What are you doing, Velasco?"
"Jump in, Kaya, jump in--quick, or the driver will hear! Take the
fiddle! Ah, the deuce with this knot!"
With a last tug the knot yielded. Velasco dashed to the step and
sprang on it; then his knees gave beneath him, and he fell in the snow
as the horses leaped forward.
"Oï--oï! Týsyacha chertéi! A pest!"
With oaths and shrieks of rage the driver rushed from the kitchen of
the inn, wiping the vodka from his beard with his sleeve. From the
tea-room three other men rushed forward, also shouting, and behind them
the Countess.
"What is it?" she screamed, "Have the horses run away? Where is the
sleigh and my buffalo robe? Are they stolen? Catch the thieves--catch
them!"
Velasco still lay in the snow, stunned by his fall, a dark patch like a
shadow. The sleigh had turned suddenly and veered around, not half a
rod distant. Kaya stood with the reins uplifted, dragging back on the
bits; and the horses were rearing, plunging, back on their haunches,
slipping on the ice.
"Velasco!" she cried, "Velasco!"
Her voice rang out like a trumpet, echoing over the snow; and as she
cried, she swept the horses about and lashed them with the whip, until
they came leaping and trembling close to the patch on the snow, which
had begun to stir slowly, awaking from the swoon.
"Ah, if I were a man!" she cried, "If I were only a man and could lift
you!" She clinched her teeth, swinging the whip, reining back the
struggling animals with her slim, white hands from which she had torn
the gloves.
As the figure moved again uneasily, half sitting up in the snow, the
men rushed forward.
"Here they are--the gypsies! We have them! They were stealing the
sleigh, the rascals!"
As they sprang at Velasco, surrounding him, there came suddenly a swift
whizz through the air, a singing as of a hornet, and the heavy lash
struck them, across the face, the eyes, the shoulders, stinging and
sharp, leaving cruel welts as it struck. The driver screamed out, half
blinded. The gendarmes started back. Petrokoff fell on his knees and
cowered behind a bush, his fat body trembling and his hands
outstretched as if praying:
"For the love of the saints!" he cried, "Don't strike!"
The lash flashed through the air, blinding and terrible in its
rapidity. The gypsey leaned over the dash-board, her face white, her
eyes dark with rage, her cap on the back of her yellow curls; and the
whip seemed to leap between her fingers like something alive.
"Velasco!" she screamed, "Get up! Come--ah, come, while I beat them,
the fiends!"
The cry seemed to pierce the benumbed brain of her companion, as the
lash the skin. The dark patch moved again and Velasco struggled to his
feet; he ran towards the sleigh. The girl leaned forward once more and
as the gendarmes sprang towards them again, swearing at her and
shouting, she lashed them fiercely across the face and the eyes,
mercilessly, with little cries of rage. Velasco tumbled in beside her
on the seat.
"Are you there?" she cried, "Are you safe?"
Then she turned, and loosening the reins the lash fell on the horses,
cutting them sharply; and they dashed forward, the foam dripping from
their bits and their hoofs striking sparks from the ice as they fled,
galloping madly, swiftly, through the snow.
In a moment the inn was left behind, the shouting and swearing died
away in the distance, and there was silence, broken only by the panting
of the horses and the sound of their hoofs galloping. Kaya still urged
them forward, shaking the reins in her left hand and lashing with the
whip.
"You are safe!" she cried, "You are there, Velasco?"
And then as the silence continued, a great fear came over her; her
heart seemed to leap in her throat and her pulses stopped beating. She
stooped over him, unheeding the horses. They were in the midst of the
forest now, and the next town was several versts distant. It was dark
and she put her face close to his, crying out: "Velasco! Velasco!"
Then she saw that he had fainted again; from his forehead a dark stream
was gushing slowly; and when she touched it, it was warm and wet. She
gave a little cry.
The horses galloped on, but the sleigh moved more smoothly and slid
over the icy surface of the snow. Kaya wound the reins about the
dash-board. They were quiet now, let them gallop! She bent again over
her companion and, taking the snow that lay on the side of the sleigh,
she bathed the wound with it, staunching the flow with her
handkerchief, holding his head against her breast.
"Velasco!" she whispered low, as if afraid he might waken and hear: "It
is better now. The wound has stopped bleeding--only a drop or two
comes on my handkerchief! You struck it on the runners as you fell; I
will bind it now with my scarf. Velasco--dear Velasco! Open your eyes
and look at me--smile at me! We are safe. We are alone in the forest
and the horses are galloping. Soon we shall be at the station--in the
train! A few hours from the frontier--only a few hours--Velasco!"
He stirred in her arms and moaned, and his eye-lids quivered as if
trying to open. Kaya took the scarf from her waist and began to wind
it slowly about the wound on his forehead. Her breath came in little
gasps through her parted lips.
"Have I your blood too on my hands, Velasco? Ah, waken and look at me!
We have only a few hours more together--a few hours! Then you will
never see me again. Never--never!"
She clasped him closer to her breast and bent over him in terror.
"Don't die, Velasco! The wound has stopped bleeding. Why don't you
open your eyes? Don't die! If you die I shall die too. I love you,
Velasco! I love you--I love you!"
She laid her cheek to his cold one and tried to warm it. She covered
him with her cloak. It grew darker and colder, and the horses galloped
on. Presently he stirred again in her arms and opened his eyes, and
they looked at one another.
"Kaya" he said, "I heard you--I heard you!"
She shrank back away from him: "You heard--me?" she stammered.
Then he fainted again.
The horses galloped on. The fields of snow stretched in the distance,
the frost on the surface glittering like myriads of tiny dew-drops.
Through the inky blackness of the clouds the moon shone out fitfully,
Streaking the road with flashes of light, pale and shadowy. Ahead
gleamed the lamps of the station. The hoofs rang on the frozen snow.
Suddenly Velasco lifted his head from the breast of Kaya. He steadied
himself and sat upright in the seat. The wound was bound about by the
red scarf and his face looked white in the faint moon-beams. There was
blood on his jacket and the folds of his vest, and the scarf was
spotted with crimson blotches.
He stared straight ahead at the tossing manes of the horses, their
galloping bodies, three abreast, plunging and straining in the harness;
the reins knotted to the dash-board; the dark, winding road bordered by
snow-drifts; the lights in the distance looming nearer, and the bulk of
the station. His eyes were shining under the bandage, wide-open
beneath the brows.
Kaya drew away from him slowly, burying herself in the corner of the
sleigh, drawing the buffalo robe close about her and trembling. The
cold was bitter.
He drank in the icy air in long breaths, and it seemed to give him
strength, to clear the fumes of the brain. He was like one who has
been drowning and is coming to life again gradually. Suddenly he
turned and they faced one another. The hoofs rang against the ice,
pounding forward; the sleigh was lurching, and the runners slipped and
slid in the snow.
"Kaya!"
"Velasco."
He put his arms out and they closed around her; he drew her nearer and
nearer with all the strength in his body, and she yielded slowly,
resisting and weak. She yielded until his lips were on hers, and then
she flung out her arms with a little cry and they clung together,
closely, silently.
The horses galloped on and the sleigh lurched faster--and faster.