HOW THE CUP SPILLED
So the winter waxed and waned, and the skies began to brighten to the
spring. The snows disappeared, except on the hills, the roads were
knee-deep tracts of mud, and Colonel Zazarin, having escaped the
typhus, was down with typhoid, and was a very sick man.
Pavlof prevailed on Hope and Madame Roskova to take charge of him,
since nothing but the most careful nursing could save his life. They
both detested the man, Hope for sufficient reason, and Anna by
instinct, but neither was the woman to leave even an enemy in
extremity.
Pavlof had laboured mightily all through the winter on such necessary
sanitary improvements as might check, to some extent, the recurrence
of the fever when the warmer weather came. And Sokolof, in the light
of the previous year's experiences, did what he could to help him.
He could give him free labour to any extent almost, but had received
neither money nor encouragement from headquarters in answer to his
applications, and so Pavlof's improvements must necessarily be of a
homely character. But they were such crying evils that he had to
fight, the appeal they made to the senses was so vital, that a blind
man could have discovered them and known by his nose what needed to
be done.
It was a busy, happy time for him, and he asked no more, for himself,
than that the authorities at St. Petersburg should continue their
neglect of Kara and leave him in possession of the field.
But one afternoon there came rattling up from Ust Kara a strange
lieutenant of gendarmes, attended by two armed orderlies, and
evidently in a hurry. He inquired for Captain Sokolof's quarters and
descended from his teléga there with an air of relief and much
stretching of the legs.
A quarter of an hour later Sokolof's orderly was hunting through the
settlement for "Serge Palma," with instructions to attend him to his
own house.
Thither came to him presently Captain Sokolof himself in great
perturbation of mind. Paul, in fact, had never seen the hard face so
moved.
"Palma," said the captain, "I bring you ill news. I tried to do you
a kindness and this is the result. They have sent orders to move you
on to Yakutsk. It is damnable. I told them of all your good work
here, and this is their answer," and he delivered himself
volcanically of his feelings on the matter, while Paul braced up
under the blow.
"When?" was all that he asked at last.
"At once. I am to deliver you to this man, and his instructions are
to carry you without delay to Yakutsk," and the hard face was all
twisted between indignation and pity.
"What must be, must," said Paul philosophically. "The Governor will
probably die, but I suppose we can't help that. What about my wife?
Is it province or town?"
"Province. It is an awful life for a woman. But she has the right
to go with you if she will. I shall do all I can to get the order
reversed. Perhaps Madame would wait----"
"I will see her at once. Can we have till to-morrow morning?"
"I will arrange that. It is damnable. Let me know if Madame decides
to go and I will procure her conveyance. There is Zazarin's
tarantas. He will probably never need it again. Oh, it is
damnable!" and Sokolof cursed his way back to his own quarters, while
Pavlof sat with his head in his hands and tried to look this last
blow of fate squarely in the face.
For life among the outer barbarians of the Yakut uluses, ignorant
even of the most elementary decencies of life, cut off absolutely
from civilisation, is life at its very lowest and its very worst.
How could he ask Hope to accompany him to such a place? How dissuade
her from going? Nay, he knew beforehand that she would go. And,
sitting there in utterest misery, he forecasted the marring and
degrading of her bright young life and the breaking of their newborn
happiness.
But there was little time for sitting still. Hope must be told and
at once, and he went off heavily to Colonel Zazarin's house.
He paid a somewhat perfunctory visit to his patient and beckoned Hope
out of the room. She had seen the trouble in his face and followed
him anxiously.
"What is it?" she asked, with a hand on his arm.
"Bad news, dearest. The worst possible news,"--at the moment he
could conceive no worse. "A special messenger has arrived from St.
Petersburg. I am ordered to Yakutsk."
"Yakutsk!" she gasped, for she knew all that it implied.
"Sokolof is beside himself. He has been endeavouring to better our
condition. He looks on this as their answer. It is grievous
treatment, but there is nothing for it but to submit. But, Hope, it
is possible it may be only for a time. Sokolof, I know, will do his
utmost in the matter. For yourself, dearest----"
"Where you go, I go," she broke in hastily.
"But, Hope--Yakutsk!"
"I know, I know. But we will not be separated."
"God help us!" he said. "I dare not think of you there."
"And I dare not think of myself anywhere but there, Paul. No, we
will go together. When is it?"
"To-morrow."
"To-morrow! Then we have no time to lose. I will go at once and get
things ready."
"And I must go and tell Sokolof that you decide to go."