The Rev. Eustace Medlicott, when the stains of travel had been removed
from his thin person, came down to tea in the hall of the Grand Hotel
with a distinct misgiving in his heart. He did not approve of it as a
place of residence for his betrothed. Another and equally well-drained
hostelry might have been found for the party he thought, where such
evidences of worldly occupations and amusements would not so forcibly
strike the eye. Music with one's meals savored of paganism. He was
still very emaciated with his Lenten fast. It took him until July,
generally, to pick up again; and he was tired with his journey. Stella
was not there to greet him, only the Aunt Caroline, and he felt a sense
of injury creeping over him. She might have been in time. Nancy
Ruggles, the Bishop's second daughter, had given him tea and ministered
to his wants in a spirit of solicitous devotion every day since the
Ebleys had left Exminster, but Nancy's hair was not full of sunlight,
nor did her complexion suggest cream and roses. Things which, to be
sure, the Rev. Eustace Medlicott felt he ought not to dwell upon; they
were fleshly lusts and should be discouraged.
He had been convinced that celibacy was the only road to salvation for
a priest, until Stella Rawson's fair young charms had unconsciously
undermined this conviction. But even if he had been able to arrange his
conscience to his liking upon the vital point, he felt he must fight
bravely against allowing himself or his betrothed to get any pleasure
out of the affair. It was better to marry than to burn, he had St.
Paul's authority for this--but when he felt emotion toward Stella
because of her loveliness, he was afterward very uncomfortable in his
thoughts, and it took him at least an hour to throw dust in his own
eyes in regard to the nature of his desire for her, which he determined
to think was only of the spirit. Love, for him, was no god to be
exalted, but a too strong beast to be resisted, and every one of his
rites were to be succumbed to shamefacedly and under protest. Thus did
he criticize the scheme of his Creator like many another before him.
He sat now in the hall of the Grand Hotel at Rome feeling ill at ease
and expressed some mild disapproval of the surroundings to Mrs. Ebley,
who fired up at once. She was secretly enjoying herself extremely, and
allowed the drains to assume gigantic proportions in her reasons for
their choice of abode. So there was nothing more to be said, and
Stella, looking rather pale, presently came down the steps from the
corridor where their lift was situated, and joined the group in the far
corner of the large hall.
She was so slender and fresh and graceful, and, even in the week's
sight-seeing in Paris, she seemed to have picked up a new air, though
she wore the same gray Sunday dress her fiance was accustomed to see at
home--it appeared to be put on differently, and she had altered the
doing of her hair. There was no doubt about it, his future wife was a
most delectable-looking creature, but these tendencies toward adornment
of the person which he observed must be checked at once.
They shook hands with decorous cordiality, and Stella sat down demurely
in the vacant chair. She felt as cold as ice toward him, and looked it
more or less. It made Mr. Medlicott nervous, although she answered
gently enough when he addressed her. Inwardly she was trying to
overcome the growing revulsion she was experiencing. Tricks of speech,
movements of hands--even the way Eustace's hair grew--were all
irritating her. She only longed to contradict every word the poor man
said, and she felt wretched and unjust and at war with herself and
fate. At last things almost came to a point when he moved his chair so
that he should be close to her and a little apart from the others, and
whispered with an air of absolute proprietorship:
"My little Stella has changed her sweetly modest way of hairdressing. I
hardly think the new style is suitable to my retiring dove."
"Why, it is only parted in the middle and brushed back into a simple
knot," Miss Rawson retorted, with sparkling eyes. "How can you be so
ridiculous, Eustace--it is merely because it is becoming and more in
the fashion that you object, there is nothing the least remarkable in
the style itself."
Mr. Medlicott's thin lips grew into a straight line.
"It is that very point--the suggestion of fashion that I object to--the
wife of a clergyman cannot be too careful not to make herself
attractive or remarkable in any way," he said sententiously, his
obstinate chin a little forward.
"But I am not a clergyman's wife yet," said Stella with some feeling,
"and can surely enjoy a few things of my age until I am--and doing my
hair how I please is one of them."
Mr. Medlicott shrugged his shoulders, he refused to continue this
unseemly altercation with his betrothed. He would force her to see
reason when once she should be his wife, until then he might have to
waive his authority, but should show her by his manner that she had
offended him, and judging from the attitudes of the adoring spinsters
he had left at Exminster that should be punishment enough.
He turned to the Aunt Caroline now and addressed her exclusively and
Stella rebelliously moved her seat back a few inches and looked across
the room; and at that moment the tall, odd-looking Russian came in, and
retired to a seat far on the other side, exactly opposite them. Here he
ordered a hock and seltzer with perfect unconcern, and smoked his
cigarette. Miss Rawson could hardly bear it.
"There is that extraordinary man again, Stella," Mrs. Ebley turned to
her and said. "I thought he had gone as he was not at luncheon to-day.
I am sure your fiance will agree with me that such an appearance is
sacrilegious--he must know he looks like a saint--and I am quite sure,
from what I have heard from Martha, he is not one at all. He lives in
the greatest luxury, Eustace," she continued, turning to the Rev. Mr.
Medlicott, "and probably does no good to anyone in the world."
"How can you suppose that, Aunt Caroline," Stella answered with some
spirit, "it is surely very uncharitable to judge of people by their
appearances and--and what Martha repeats to you."
Mrs. Ebley gasped--never in her whole life had her niece spoken to her
in this tone. She to be rebuked! It was unspeakable. She could only
glare behind her glasses. What had come to the girl in the last two
days--if this manner was the result of travel, far better to have
stayed at home!
Here Canon Ebley joined in, hoping to bring peace:
"You have told Eustace what is in store for him to-night, have you not,
Caroline, my dear?" he asked. "We have to put on our best and take our
ladies to the Embassy to a rout, Eustace," he went on, genially. "There
are a Russian Grand Duke and Duchess passing through, it appears, who
are going to be entertained."
"There will be no dancing, I suppose," said Mr. Medlicott primly,
"because, if so, I am sorry, but I cannot accompany you--it is not that
I disapprove of dancing for others," he hastened to add, "but I do not
care to watch it myself. And I do not think it wise for Stella to grow
to care for it, either."
"It is merely a reception," Mrs. Ebley said, "and it will be a very
interesting sight."
Stella sat silent; she was overcome with the whole situation; and her
fiance grew more distasteful to her every moment--how had she ever been
persuaded to be engaged to such a person!--while the attraction of the
strange-looking Russian seemed to increase. In spite of the grotesque
hair and unusual beard, there was an air of great distinction about
him. His complete unconsciousness and calm were so remarkable. You
might take him for an eccentric person, but certainly a gentleman, and
with an extraordinary magnetism, she felt. When once you had talked to
him, he seemed to cast a spell over you. But, beyond this, she only
knew that she was growing more unhappy every moment, and that by her
side one man represented everything that was tied and bound in
sentiment and feeling and existence, and that across the hall another
opened the windows of her reason and imagination, and exhorted her to
be free, and herself.
Presently she could bear it no more. She got up rather suddenly, and,
saying she was very tired and had letters to write, she left them and
went toward the lift.
"Stella is not at all like herself," Mr. Medlicott said, when she had
disappeared from view. "I trust she is not sickening with Roman fever."
Meanwhile, Miss Rawson had reached her room and pulled her writing case
in front of her. There were one or two girl friends who ought to be
written to, but the sheets remained blank--and in about ten minutes
there was a gentle knock at the door, and, on opening it, she saw Count
Roumovski's discreet-looking servant, who handed her a note
respectfully, and then went on his way without a word.
How agreeable it must be to have well-trained servants to do one's
bidding like that! she thought, and then went back eagerly to her
window to read the missive. It had no beginning or date, and was just a
few lines.
I have observed the whole situation, and judged of the character of
your fiance. I know how you feel. Do not be depressed--remain calm and
trust me, circumstances can always be directed in the hands of a strong
man. I will have the honor to be presented to you and to your family
soon after you arrive at the Embassy to-night. All is well.
There was no signature, and the writing was rather large and unlike any
she had seen before.
Suddenly her feeling of unrest left her, and a lightness of heart took
its place. She was living, at all events, and the horizon was not all
gray. It seemed almost delightful to be putting on a real evening dress
presently, even though it was a rather homely white thing with a pink
sash, and to be going down to the restaurant in it with Aunt Caroline
in front in her best black velvet and point lace.
That lady's desire to be in time at the party alone determined her to
this breach of the rules--and there were Eustace and Uncle Erasmus in
their stiff clerical evening coats awaiting them in the
corridor--while, as luck would have it, the lift stopped at the second
floor to admit the Russian. He got in with his usual air of being
unaware that he was not alone--though Stella could feel that he was
touching her hand--perhaps unconsciously. He seemed to radiate some
kind of joy for her always, and the pink grew to that of a June rose in
her cheeks, and her brown eyes shone like two stars.
"That was the man you spoke of in the hall, Mrs. Ebley, was it not?"
Eustace Medlicott's intoning voice said, as they went along to the
restaurant. "He certainly is a most remarkable person to look at
close--but I do not dislike his face, it has noble lines."
"Really, how condescending of you!" Stella almost said aloud. But the
Aunt Caroline answered serenely:
"Perhaps I am prejudiced, Eustace, but want of convention always shocks
me to such a degree that I cannot appreciate anything else."
Stella almost enjoyed her dinner, she was so excited with the prospect
of some unknown coming events, and she had the satisfaction of
observing that once Count Roumovski actually turned his head in their
direction and met her eyes. His were full of a whimsical smile for the
instant he looked, and then he relapsed into his habitual indifference.
The crowd had begun to thicken when they got to the Embassy, and they
waited among them for the Royalties' arrival; Stella looking at
everything with fresh, interested eyes. When this ceremony was over
people began to disperse about the large rooms, and Miss Rawson was
conscious that her strange secret acquaintance was in conversation with
the Grand Duke and Duchess; she had not seen him come in. The Aunt
Caroline noticed this, too, and drew her attention to the fact.
"Look, Stella, that dreadful man is talking to Royalty!" she said. "I
suppose he must be a gentleman, after all--one never can tell with
foreigners, as their titles mean nothing, and half of them are assumed.
Your Uncle Carford had a valet once who afterward was arrested for
posing as a Polish count."
"I should think anyone could see this man was a gentleman, Aunt
Caroline," Stella answered, "even without his talking to Royalties."
They were soon joined by the secretary cousin, who was charmed to
welcome so pretty a relation to Rome, and was profuse in his apologies
for not having been able to do more than leave cards upon them as yet.
"We should so like to know the names of the celebrities," Mrs. Ebley
said, "especially can you tell us about the very curious-looking person
now conversing with her Imperial Highness; he is at our hotel."
"That--Oh! that is by far the most interesting man here--it is the
famous Count Roumovski. He is a most celebrated traveler; he has been
all over the world and Africa and Asia in unaccessible places. He is a
fabulously rich Russian--a real Muscovite from near Moscow, and he does
everything and anything he pleases; he gives enormous sums for the
encouragement of science. He is immensely intelligent--he lunched at
the Embassy to-day."
"Really!" said the Aunt Caroline, somewhat impressed. "His appearance
is greatly against him."
"Oh, do you think so?" said the cousin. "I think it adds to his
attraction, it is such superlative audacity. No Englishman would have
the nerve to cut his hair like that."
"I should hope not," said Mrs. Ebley severely, and dropped the subject.
"To think of this charming rosebud of a girl going to marry Eustace
Medlicott--insufferable, conceited prig, I remember him at Oxford," the
cousin was musing to himself. "Lord Carford is an old stick-in-the-mud,
or he would have prevented that. She is his own niece, and one can see
by her frock that the poor child never even goes to London."
At this moment they saw the Russian Count putting his heels together
and bowing himself out of the circle of his Royalties; and straight as
a dart he came over to where their group was standing, and whispered in
the cousin's--Mr. Deanwood's ear--who then asked if he might present
Count Roumovski to the Aunt Caroline and the rest.
When this ceremony was over Mrs. Ebley found herself conversing with
her whilom object of contempt, and coming gradually under the influence
of his wonderful charm, while Stella stood there trembling with the
wildest excitement she had yet known. The words of Eustace, her
betrothed, talking to her, carried no meaning to her brain, her whole
intelligence was strung up to catch what the others were saying.
With great dexterity the Russian presently made the conversation
general, and drew her into it, and then he said with composure that the
Gardens were illuminated--and, as it was such a very hot night, would
mademoiselle like to take a turn that way, to have some refreshment? At
the same moment, Mr. Deanwood gave Mrs. Ebley his arm, and they all
moved forward--followed by Canon Ebley and the Rev. Eustace Medlicott,
with no great joy upon his face.
Stella, meanwhile, felt herself being drawn rapidly ahead, and so
maneuvered that in a moment or two they had completely lost sight of
the rest of the relations, and were practically alone in a crowd.
"At last!" Count Roumovski whispered, "even I, who am generally calm,
was beginning to feel I should rush over, throw prudence to the winds
and--" then he stopped abruptly, and Stella felt her heart thump in her
throat, while her little hand on his arm was pressed against his side.
They made the pretense of taking some refreshment at the buffet, and
then went toward the open doors of the garden. The part all round the
house was illuminated, and numbers of people strolled about, the night
was deliciously warm. Count Roumovski seemed to know the paths, for he
drew his companion to a seat just beyond the radius of the lights, and
they sat down upon a bench under a giant tree. He had not spoken a
word, but now he leaned back and deliberately looked into her eyes,
while his voice, with vibrations of feeling in it which thrilled
Stella, whispered in her ear:
"It cannot go on, of course--you agree with me about that, do you not?"
"What cannot go on?" she asked, to gain time to recover her composure.
"This situation," he answered. "I am sure now that I love you--and I
want to teach you a number of things, first in importance being that
you shall love me."
"Oh, you must not say this," Stella protested feebly.
"Yes, I must, and you will listen to me, little star."
He drew nearer to her, and the amazing power of propinquity began to
assert itself. She felt as if the force to resist him were leaving her,
she was trembling all over with delicious thrills.
"I made up my mind almost immediately I saw you, sweet child," he went
on, "that you were what I have been waiting for all my life. You are
good and true--and balanced--or you will be that when I have made your
love education. Stella, look at me with those soft eyes, and tell me
that I mean something to you already, and that the worthy Mr. Medlicott
does not exist any more."
"I--I--but I have only known you for two days," Stella answered
confusedly: she was so full of emotion that she dared not trust herself
further.
"Does time count, then, so much with conventional people?" he demanded.
"For me it has no significance in relation to feeling. If you would
only look at me instead of down at those small hands, then you would
not be able to tell me these foolish things!"
This was so true that Stella could not deny it, her breath came rather
fast; it was the supreme moment her life had yet known.
"You are frightened because the training of your education still holds
you and not nature. Your acquired opinion tells you you are engaged to
another man, and ought not to listen to me."
"Of course I ought not to," she murmured.
"Of course you ought--how else can you come to any conclusion if you do
not hear my arguments--sweet, foolish one!"
She did look at him now with two startled eyes.
"Listen attentively, darling pupil, and sweet love," he said. He was
leaning with one arm on the back of the bench supporting his head on
his hand, turned quite toward her, who sat with clasped nervous fingers
clutching her fan. His other hand lay idly on his knee, his whole
attitude was very still. The soft lights were just enough for him to
see distinctly her small face and shining hair; his own face was in
shadow, but she could feel the magnetism of his eyes penetrating
through her very being.
"You were coerced by those in charge of you," he went on in a level
voice of argument, which yet broke into notes of tenderness, "you were
influenced into becoming engaged to this man who is ridiculously
unsuited to you. You, so full of life and boundless joy! You, who will
learn all of love's meaning presently, and what it makes of existence,
and what God meant by giving it to us mortals. You are intended by
nature to be a complete woman if you did but know it--but such a life,
tied to that half fish man, would atrophy all that is finest in your
character. You would grow really into what they are trying to make you
appear--after years of hopelessness and suffering. Do you not feel all
this, little star, tell me?"
"Yes," Stella answered, "it is true--I have seemed to feel the cords
and the shackles pulling at me often, but never that they were
unbearable until I--spoke with you--and you put new thoughts into my
head."
"I did well, then. And because of a silly convention you would ruin all
your life by going on with these ways--it is unthinkable!" and his deep
voice vibrated with feeling. "It is a mistake, that is all, and can be
rectified,--if you were already married to this man I would not plead
so, because then you would have crossed the Rubicon, and assumed
responsibilities which you would have to accept or suffer the
consequences. But this preliminary bond can be broken without hurt to
either side. A man of the good clergyman's type will not suffer in his
emotions at the loss of you--he suffices unto himself for those; his
vanity will be wounded--that is all. And surely it is better that
should gall for a little than that you should spoil your life. Sweet
flower, realize yourself these things--that sunny hair and that
beautiful skin and those velvet eyes were made for the joy and glory of
a man--not for temptations to a strict priest, who would resent their
power as a sin every time he felt himself influenced by their charm.
Gods above! he would not know what to do with you, heart of me!"
Stella was thrilling with exquisite emotion, but the influence of her
strict and narrow bringing up could not be quite overcome in these few
moments. She longed to be convinced, and yet some altruistic sentiment
made her feel still some qualms and misgivings. If she should be
causing Eustace great pain by breaking her engagement; if it were very
wrong to go against her uncle and aunt--especially her Aunt Caroline,
her own mother's sister. She clasped her little hands nervously, and
looked up in this strong man's face with pathetic, pleading intensity.
"Oh, please tell me, what ought I to do, then--what is right?" she
implored. "And because I want so much to believe you, I fear it must be
wrong to do so."
He leaned nearer to her and spoke earnestly. His stillness was almost
ominous, it gave the impression of such immense self-control, and his
voice was as those bass notes of the priests of St. Isaac's in his own
northern land.
"Dear, honest little girl," he said tenderly, "I worship your goodness.
And I know you will presently see the truth. Love is of God and is
imperious, and because she loves him is the only reason why a woman
should give her life to a man. Quite apart from the law, which
proclaims that each individual must be the arbiter of his own fate, and
not succumb to the wishes of others, it would be an ethical sin for you
to marry the worthy Mr. Medlicott--not loving him. Surely, you can see
this."
"Yes--yes, it would be dreadful," she murmured, "but Aunt Caroline--she
caused me to accept him--I mean, she wanted me to so much. I never
really felt anything for him myself, and lately--ever since the
beginning, in fact, I have been getting more and more indifferent to
him."
"Then, surely, it is plain that you must be free of him, darling. Throw
all the responsibility upon me, if you will. I promise to take every
care of you. And I want you only to promise you will follow each step
that I explain to you--" then he broke off, and the seriousness of his
tone changed to one of caressing tenderness. "But first I must know for
certain, little star, shall I be able to teach you to love me--as I
shall love you?"
"Yes," was all Stella could utter, and then, gaining more voice, she
went on, "I did not know--I could not guess what that would mean--to
love--but--"
He answered her with fond triumph:
"Now you are beginning to understand, darling child--that is enough for
me to know for the present. In your country, a man asks a woman to
marry him: he says, 'Will you marry me?'--is it not so? of course, I
need not say that to you, because you know that is what I mean. When
these wearisome thongs are off your wrists you will belong to me, and
come with me into my country and be part of my life."
"Ah!" whispered Stella, the picture seemed one of heaven, that was all.
"You must have freedom to assert your individuality, Stella," he
continued. "I can but show you the way and give you a new point of
view, but I will never try to rule you and drag you to mine. I will
never put any chains upon you but those of love. Do they sound as if
they would be too heavy, dearest?"
"I think not," she said very low. "I feel as though I were looking into
a beautiful garden from the top of an ugly, barren, cold mountain. I
shall like to come down and go in among the unknown flowers."
"It will be so glorious for us," he said exultantly, "because we have
still all the interesting things to find out about each other,--" And
then, her sweet face so very near him, the temptation to caress her
became too intense; he quivered and changed his position, clasping his
hands.
"Darling," he said hoarsely, "we must soon go back to the company,
because, although I count always upon my will to make my actions obey
it, still I can hardly prevent myself from seizing you in my arms and
kissing your tender lips--and that I must not do--as yet."
Stella drew herself together, the temptation was convulsing her also,
though she did not guess it. She looked up into his blue eyes there in
the shadow, and saw the deep reverence in them, and she understood and
loved him with her soul.
He did not so much as touch her dress; indeed, now that he had won his
fight, he moved a little further from her--and resumed his calm voice:
"The first thing we shall do is to stroll back through the people and
find the aunt--I will then leave you with her, and soon it will be time
to go home. Do not make much conversation with any of them
to-night--leave everything to me. I will see the Rev. Mr. Medlicott
when we return to the hotel. Whatever they say to you to-morrow, remain
firm in your simple determination to break your engagement. Argue with
them not at all. I will see your uncle in the morning and demand your
hand; they will be shocked, horrified, scandalized--we will make no
explanations. If they refuse their consent, then you must be brave, and
the day after to-morrow you must come to my sister. She will have
arrived by then; she was in Paris, and I telegraphed for her to join me
immediately; the Princess Urazov she is called. She will receive you
with affection, and you will stay with her until the formalities can be
arranged, when we shall be married, and--but I cannot permit myself to
think of the joy of that--for the moment."
Stella's eyes, with trust and love, were now gazing into his, and he
rose abruptly to his feet.
"You may, when you are alone, again think that it is heartless to go
quite contrary to your relations like this, because they have brought
you up, but remember that marriage is an act which can mean almost life
or death to a woman, and that no human beings have any right to coerce
you in this matter. You are of age and so am I, and we are only
answerable to God and to the laws of our countries, not to individuals."
"I will try to think of it like that," said Stella, greatly moved, and
then, with almost childish irrelevance, which touched him deeply, she
asked, "What must I call you, please?"
"Oh, you sweetest star!" he exclaimed, "do not tempt me too strongly--I
love you wildly and I want to fold you in my arms--and explain
everything with your little head here on my breast--but I must
not--must not yet. Call me Sasha--say it now that I may hear its sound
in your tender voice--and we must fly, fly back to the lights--or I
cannot answer for myself."
She whispered it softly, and a shiver ran through all his tall
frame--and he said, with tender masterfulness:
"Say, 'Sasha, I love,'" and this she did, also--and then he almost
brusquely placed her hand upon his arm, and led her among the people,
and so to her frowning relations, and then he bowed a correct
good-night.