Whoever has travelled in a first-class carriage of an Austrian State
railway has learnt to know the acme of comfort and luxury that can be
conveyed on wheels. True, that whilst the traveller gains in the
matter of softly cushioned seats he loses in that of speed; but what
would you? This is Eastern Europe, and the oriental looks upon hurry
as one of the seven deadly sins; so the railways he constructs never
exceed forty miles an hour, but the springs of the carriages are
balanced to a nicety, and everything is done to render the passenger’s
prolonged stay in the _coupé_ a pleasant and luxurious one.
But oh! there is one great, one very great drawback to travelling in
those Eastern countries! Who has not known the annoyance, the worry,
the bustle attendant on the necessary custom-house examinations at the
frontier? Both at Passau, at one end of the Empire, and at Oderberg on
the other, the weary traveller is usually landed an hour or so before
sunrise. The imperious rules of the Austrian custom-house demand that
every article of luggage pass under the inspection of its officials,
and that under no circumstances a passenger be allowed to remain in
his or her carriage, probably lest he or she may thereby succeed in
keeping concealed the very articles of contraband, most strictly taxed
by the Austrian Government.
“I don’t think we need get out, Róza,” said Madame Demidoff in a
sleepy voice from the corner of her _coupé_, as the express drew up
at Oderberg, the frontier station. “You saw the luggage registered
through to Petersburg, and leaded, did you not?”
“_Oui, madame!_” replied the maid, looking out of the carriage window,
“they are opening all the doors and making everybody get out, but they
did tell me in Vienna that, if we have the luggage registered, it can
go through without examination.”
“Anyhow, I shall not get out; put my valise and dressing-bag close to
me, and go and order two cups of coffee at the buffet, to be brought
here.”
“I think madame will not be disturbed,” said the maid as she opened
the carriage; “everyone has left the platform, and I see no more
officials about. I hope madame will be all right whilst I am gone; I
will be back directly.”
And Róza prepared to get out of the _coupé_.
“Excuse me, mademoiselle,” said a voice, as she alighted on the
platform, “everyone must get out here.”
A man, in the uniform of the custom-house officials, stood by the
carriage door, respectfully lifting his cap as he peered into the
_coupé_ and saw Madame Demidoff surrounded by her luggage.
“Surely it is not necessary,” said madame in a tone of annoyance; “my
luggage is registered through, and they told me distinctly in Vienna
that I shall not be troubled with these stupid formalities.”
“I am very sorry, madame, but our orders are very strict, and we are
not allowed to let anyone remain in the carriages, nor any luggage,”
he added emphatically, pointing to the valise, dressing-bags, and rugs
that lay on the cushioned seats.
Madame Demidoff knew enough about officialdom to be well aware that it
was absolutely useless to disobey or even to protest. The man was
perfectly civil, nay, respectful, but at any sign of resistance he
would call for help, and deposit madame’s luggage, without hesitation,
on the platform, or carry it away to the customs hall, where she would
perforce have to follow it.
Resigning herself with an impatient sigh, she prepared to step out of
the carriage, leaving Róza and the man to follow with her things. She
knew she had nothing, that she need mind being handled by the most
prying Austrian official; her reports and papers this time were safe
in the secret receptacles of the Emperor’s candlesticks; these she had
placed in her valise, labelling them conspicuously:
“China--Fragile--the property of his Eminence Cardinal d’Orsay.” The
parcel might be opened, with a view to verifying the truth of the
label, but no one could guess that a Russian agent’s reports were
hidden inside such brittle works of art.
The whole thing was merely a matter of annoyance and weariness, and
Madame Demidoff soon found her way to the customs hall, followed by
her maid and the polite but tiresome official, who were carrying her
things.
Her large trunks were lying in the hall; these, having been
registered, were not opened, but marked with the Austrian custom-house
stamp, as allowed to pass the frontier unmolested.
“Have you any bags or small luggage besides, madame?” asked an officer
who had been turning over Róza’s bag, and undoing the bundle of rugs
and umbrellas she had placed on the counter.
“Yes! I have a valise and a dressing-bag. Róza,” she said, “open
them; here are the keys.”
“I was not carrying madame’s valise or her dressing-bag,” said the
maid; “the customs officer was carrying them; I don’t see the things
just at this moment; he must have put them down somewhere.”
“Find them at once. You had no right to let anyone touch them; you
know I never allow anyone to carry my bag but yourself.”
Madame Demidoff found it difficult to control her agitation, and Róza
peered anxiously round, trying to recognise the official who had
charge of the precious bags.
“Did you say a customs official was carrying the things?” asked a
porter, seeing the girl’s distress; “it is such an unlikely thing for
any of them to do, they are all too busy in here.”
“He is not here at this moment,” said Róza; “it was a young man with
a long, brown beard and curly hair; he was in uniform.”
“Every one of the officials connected with the custom-house is in the
room at this moment, miss; I have known them all for years, not one is
missing. I am beginning to be afraid you have been tricked by one of
these clever robbers, who have done a deal of mischief before now at
these customs stations; you see it is so easy to rob people here,
especially ladies, as----”
“Róza,” gasped Madame Demidoff, who had overheard the man’s last
words, and now felt sick with terror, “look again! you must have been
mistaken.… Where is my valise?… You are responsible for my valise.… I
shall accuse you of theft, unless you find my valise.… I shall----”
She checked herself just in time, for an amused and interested crowd
of spectators began to assemble round her and her maid, eager to watch
this elegantly dressed lady so completely losing her self-control,
over the loss of some small articles of luggage.
The second bell had already sounded, the passengers were preparing to
resume their seats in the express. Madame Demidoff, seeing the
piercing eyes of one or two officials fixed searchingly at her, felt
the necessity of pulling herself together. Her long knowledge of the
world--the official world, told her of the danger of betraying too
much emotion over apparent trifles, lest those trifles became thereby
an object of suspicion. Regaining her _sang-froid_, she turned to the
porters, who stood gaping round, and said with calmness--
“My valise and dressing-bag contained some very valuable jewellery. I
will give a thousand guldens for their recovery, two thousand if I
have them back before dawn. In the meanwhile one of you take my
luggage to a cab, and I shall be glad to know the name of the best
hotel in this town, where I shall stay until my property is recovered.
I must interview the police at once, that is, I suppose, as early in
the morning as possible.”
“Róza,” she added, turning to her poor discomfited maid, while her
orders were being promptly and noiselessly carried out, “here are a
month’s wages, and the money to pay your fare back to Vienna; do not
ever let me set eyes on you again.”
After that she walked gracefully and steadily across the room, got
into a cab, and was driven to the hotel, while poor Róza was left to
be consoled by the kind porter, until the next train started back for
Vienna.