PETROSCH HAS A PLAN.
A single glance at Colonel Petrosch convinced me that some change had
taken place in the situation during his absence which he considered
favourable. His step was less heavy; the air of oppressed anxiousness
was gone; his face had lost that depressed, care-haunted, apprehensive
look which I had seen before; and his bearing was almost confident and
bright.
He went at once to the matter in hand.
“I am glad to tell you you are free to leave, Mr. Bergwyn,” he said,
with obvious satisfaction.
“I am deeply obliged to you for your intervention, Colonel.”
“Shew it by leaving Belgrade by the first available train and remaining
away for some days at least until matters have settled. Then we shall
be ready to receive you.”
“You have had news which you consider good?” I asked.
“Yes. I think the best we could have. There is now no room for
reasonable doubt that the people will not only support the army’s
action, but will do so with enthusiasm. The news is known everywhere
now, and reports from all over the city from all classes are to this
effect. Every minute brings added proof of this. It is an intense and
consummate relief.”
“It is consummate shame and scandal that murder should be thus hailed
with acclamation,” cried Gatrina, indignantly.
“Those will be dangerous views to express to-day, madam,” said
Petrosch, turning to her. “You and I must of necessity look upon this
revolution with very different feelings. What to you appears murder, I
and those with me regard as the only gate to national liberty which was
left open to us.”
“Mr. Bergwyn has told me that many murders have been committed in the
night. There will be a heavy reckoning for each of them.”
“Lives have been taken, it is true, because, as we believe, no other
course was left, if a violent revolution, followed by the horrors of
a civil war, was to be avoided. Better for half a dozen lives to be
taken deliberately than as many thousands in a civil war. What we have
done we have done; and we leave the issue to God. The future will judge
whether we have done right.”
“Cold blooded murder cannot be justified by an appeal to the Almighty,”
said Gatrina, indignantly. “Who draws the sword himself shall feel the
blade. You may seem to be successful; the people may shout for you and
applaud you because you are strong; you may for the time carry all
before you with a powerful hand; but by this fearsome appeal to blood
you have raised a force which will crush you in the end with infinite
disaster to the country.”
Colonel Petrosch listened with pent brows, and replied with impressive
deliberation. “I am disturbed to hear this from you, madam, and it
compels me to put to you a question which I beg you to answer with
due regard to the solemn consequences which your words may have for
yourself. Do I understand you to mean that you yourself would take part
in any movement or plans which might be made against the army and its
decisions, and for the restoration of your family upon the throne?”
“No, no, indeed. God forbid that for any mere personal ends either word
or act of mine should ever tend to plunge the country into the horrors
of such a conflict.”
Alarmed by his sudden change to severity, I was greatly relieved to
hear Gatrina’s words. So I think was he. He looked across to me.
“Have you told the Princess what I said to you before, Mr. Bergwyn?”
“Yes; but she does not see her way to leave the country.”
“Voluntarily, you mean? But you cannot remain, madam,” he said to her.
“It is absolutely impossible.”
“I will not leave, Colonel Petrosch.”
He sighed. “I regret exceedingly to hear that unfortunate decision and
trust you will recall it. I am authorised to tell you that if you will
sign a document abandoning all claim to the succession and leave the
country voluntarily, your property and fortune shall not be forfeit.”
“I shall not change my decision for a bribe, Colonel Petrosch,” she
answered instantly and proudly.
“It is not meant as a bribe; but your presence will be an embarrassment
to the new Government, and in any case you must go. Must: it is
imperative. Pray think, then, before you set the Government at
defiance.”
“I have given my decision, and nothing will alter it, Colonel Petrosch.”
“That is your last word?”
“On that point, my last word.”
“I regret it deeply. I have now no option but to tell you that you
will be a prisoner. I can, at any rate for the present, spare you the
harassment of being removed from your own house. But the house is in
possession of our troops and I must ask you to remain in your own
apartments, pending our decision in regard to your movements.”
“I shall make no attempt to run away,” said Gatrina, getting up as she
spoke.
“Wait,” I broke in. “I should like to put a question or two.”
Petrosch turned upon me an inscrutable look and replied with a shew
of sternness: “You can do nothing to influence our decision in such a
matter, Mr. Bergwyn. The Princess has refused our offer. That is all.”
“I don’t think so,” I answered, bluntly. “Are we to understand that the
Princess is in any danger from the acts of your agents? We have seen
already what some of them are capable of doing.”
“I am glad to be able to give an assurance that ample precautions will
be taken for the Princess’s personal safety during the few hours she
will remain here. If you will take counsel from me, madam, I would
urge you to lose no time in preparing for your departure. We shall
decide very quickly. I will now call the guard;” and he left the room.
I turned to Gatrina and impulsively she put both her hands in mine and
lifted her face and smiled.
“Good-bye,” she murmured, her lips quivering.
“I wish you could have done as he asked.”
“I wish I could--for your sake; but ...” she shook her head. “You have
done so much for me. I can see your hand in all this.”
“Give it up, Gatrina, for my sake,” I cried, passionately, the love in
me breaking all bounds. “You would trust yourself to me?”
“Ah, yes, gladly, if I could but be a coward. I should be a happy
coward, Bourgwan; but....”
“I cannot lose you. My God, I will not.”
“Please, please be strong enough for us both. I am so weak when I think
of you: of all that I am losing. But--I must stay. You know that in
your heart. I must be true to my duty. For Heaven’s sake help to save
me from my weakness.”
“I cannot lose you,” I cried again.
“No, no. Leave it me to think of you as always doing the right thing. I
want my memory of you undimmed. It must be good-bye. It must.”
“I cannot say it.”
“There is no other word to say, Bourgwan. No other word. Do you know
how hard you are making this for me?” she added gently after a pause.
I caught her and held her passionately.
“You love me?”
Again she raised her face, now close to mine, and gazed into my eyes
frankly.
“If I did not, should I care?” she whispered.
Slowly I bent my head till my lips touched hers, and as they met she
yielded to me and kissed me in return, and then let her head rest on my
shoulder.
“Oh, how you make me wish I were a coward,” she murmured. “It is harder
than ever; but it must be good-bye.”
Gently she drew away and put her hands in mine as before.
“We must never meet again, Bourgwan,” she said, with one of her sweet
smiles. “You tempt me so. I could not trust myself again.”
“God keep you, Gatrina. Good-bye;” and I pressed my lips to her hand
and then led her to the door.
“It is even harder than the day at Samac,” she whispered, smiling
again; and with those words and a last long look she passed out, and I
was alone in the room--alone for always.
I was staring desolately out into the garden when Colonel Petrosch came
back.
“I thought perhaps you might wish to say a word or two to the Princess,
Mr. Bergwyn; and now I want to speak to you.”
“Yes; what is it?” I answered, indifferently. Nothing mattered now.
What he said or didn’t say was all one to me.
“I am going to ask you for your confidence.”
“Well?”
“About the--the Princess.”
“Except to know that she will be safe, I would rather not speak of
her,” I answered, abruptly.
“I have heard the story that you met her when you were in the Bosnian
hills under circumstances....”
But I wasn’t having that and cut him short pretty brusquely.
“I should regard any question on such a subject as verging upon
impertinence, Colonel Petrosch. Please ask none.”
He smiled. “That is very much like confirmation. You must not lose your
temper with me. I am an old man, you a young one, and I want to help
you. If the Princess had been other than....”
“Stop right there, if you please,” I cried, angrily.
But he only smiled. “Well, I’ll put it another way. The Princess is a
very obstinate young woman and----”
“The Princess has decided rightly, Colonel Petrosch.”
“And the result of her decision is that in a few hours she will be
sorely in need of a friend.”
“What do you mean?”
“May I speak plainly what’s in my mind--what was in it when I went out
of the room just now?”
“Yes,” I returned after a pause. “Have I been a fool?”
He did not answer that question in direct terms; but he spoke very
plainly, and what he said answered it indirectly. We had a brief but
very pithy conversation; and at the end of it I got up and shook
his hand effusively and “God blessed him,” bade him good-bye, and
scampered off to my house more like a school-boy than a man of many
cares, and with no longer any thought of the prospect of desolate
loneliness which had appeared to threaten me so gloomily only a few
minutes before.
As I passed through the streets there were already abundant signs of
the popular feeling. Early though the hour was, flags were flying,
decorations being hurriedly prepared, men and women were abroad gaily
dressed, and everyone getting ready to join in what was clearly to be a
public holiday.
Death and terror had had their grim reign in the frowning gloom of
the night; but the scene had shifted with the daylight. The Army were
hailed as the deliverers of the people; the tragic means were condoned
for the sake of the end attained; and on all sides the people were
making haste to parade the evidences of satisfaction at the change and
gratitude to those who had wrought it.
How much of the demonstration was genuine, how far it was wire-pulled,
or to what extent it was dictated by that prudence which impels the
crowd to side with the strongest I did not stop to think. It was enough
that the city would side with the Army and that its leaders would
therefore go on with their work undisturbed by fears of turbulence and
resistance. That meant much to me just then.
I found my servants vastly uneasy at my absence during the night. Even
the placid Buller was excited.
“Thank God you have come, sir. We dursen’t go to bed. We didn’t know
what to think or do.”
“I daresay you didn’t, but get a hustle on you now and pack up. I’m
leaving in a couple of hours and want my light baggage with me. Pick
out enough for a few days; and express all the heavy trunks to Vienna.”
“Thank God, sir,” he exclaimed, fervently.
“Well, get going then--you’ll have time for thanksgiving on the cars,”
I said, as he hesitated. “And tell someone to get me some breakfast.”
I dashed into my bedroom, had a bath and changed out of Nikolitch’s
uniform--which was a good deal the worse for the night’s wear--had my
breakfast, establishing probably an American record for eating speed,
and sat down to knock off the cables and letters which my hurried
departure necessitated.
I was deep in one to Nikolitch explaining things and telling him I had
made all excuses for him with Petrosch, when Karasch arrived.
“I hardly hoped to find you----” he began.
“You must shelve all that, Karasch,” I interposed. “You’ve got to leave
the city with me in less than an hour from now; and see here, take
money to pay those men liberally for what they did last night and tell
them they’d better hold their tongues and skip for a while. You must be
at the depot in an hour ready to go.”
“Are you....”
“Don’t ask a question now. All has gone right. Be off with you,” and I
got up and opened the door to hustle him off. As I did so, Elma was in
the hall, and Buller was protesting that I could not receive her.
At sight of me she pushed past him and came into my room. She was as
full of agitation as a setting hen over her first chick; and when
she saw from my face that I was in high spirits her astonishment was
boundless.
“I’m leaving,” I said, pithily.
“Running away?” she exclaimed.
“That’s about the size of it. Can I do anything for you in Vienna?” I
had no anger left for her, or indeed for anyone.
“You have heard the news?”
“Some.”
“About the murders last night?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to run away while she is in danger?”
“Who?”
“Who?” she repeated with a scoff. “Gatrina, I mean, of course.”
“I don’t know that she’s in any particular peril. I called there last
night.”
“How can you speak so lightly as that? She must be saved at any cost.
I’ve come to offer to help you save her.”
“From what?”
“Death,” she said, with tragic earnestness.
“What can one do? The army is all powerful. I must think of myself.”
“Good God, are you such a coward?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “A man must think of his own life. I’ve no
fancy to risk mine.”
Her face was a study in contempt. “You mean you will not attempt to
save her?”
“I tell you I’m bolting. I don’t suppose her fate will be anything very
terrible, and perhaps after all she deserves it. Anyway, I shall not
think of opposing the army in the matter.”
She drew her breath quickly and looked at me with almost fierce
disdain. “You coward! Oh, you coward,” she cried.
“I suppose it isn’t very brave. But then I never set up for a hero.”
“But if I tell you that I know her death has been decided upon and that
if you will help, we can save her?”
“It wouldn’t make any difference to me. You see I’m packed up, and even
my train is chosen. I simply can’t stop. Besides, I expect you’ve been
misinformed.”
“I tell you I know it,” she cried, fiercely, as if seeking to rouse me.
“Then I’m afraid the bottom will be knocked out of your marriage scheme
in regard to her. Still, I daresay you’ll hatch another.”
This was the limit. She fell back a pace, stared at me aghast, and
then broke out into a violent tirade of denunciation and abuse of my
cowardice and generally contemptible conduct.
“Now, let me say half a dozen plain words, Baroness,” I replied, when
she paused for lack of breath. “During the last days I have been here
you have done your utmost against me; every weapon you could find you
have used without scruple to try and ruin me. You failed every time;
and now you come with some other plan in that subtle and beautiful
head of yours to try and lure me into a last net. For the time I came
very near to fearing you; I don’t like saying ugly things to a woman;
and I’ll just content myself with the confession that I no longer fear
anything you can do, and pay no heed whatever to anything you can say.
That’s all. And now, as I’m busy getting ready to run away, as you call
it, I must ask you to excuse me.”
“You have some other scheme?” she cried.
“You can put it that I’m running away; and leave it at that.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“That’s not polite, to say the least of it.” I rang the bell. “Buller,
have you packed up yet?” I asked when he came.
“Yes, sir.”
“And directed that the heavy luggage is expressed through to Vienna?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And the carriage?”
“Yes, sir. It will be at the door in a quarter of an hour, sir.”
“That will do. You hear that?” I asked Elma.
She made a gesture of angry impatience. “I can’t understand you.”
“It means good-bye, Baroness. I have still some letters to finish and
arrangements to complete, and have, as you hear, only fifteen minutes.
I part without any anger;” and I held out my hand.
“I will save Gatrina without you,” she exclaimed, not taking my hand.
“I don’t think anyone can do that, but it’s very good of you to try,” I
replied with a conventional smile.
This appeared to kindle all her rage again to white heat. She stared at
me a moment, then raised her arms above her head and with a passionate
ejaculation of disgust, swept out of the room.
Her complete mystification and indignant wrath gave me intense
satisfaction, and with a chuckle of enjoyment I sat down again and
finished my letters just in time to drive hurriedly to the depot and
catch my train.
But I did not take tickets for Vienna, for that was not my destination.