Once in the cathedral, Paul paused in his pursuit.
The picturesque interior was aglow with the declining rays of the sun,
which streamed through a large window behind the organ upon a great
silver Calvary surmounting the high altar, and gilded the white caps
of a handful of old _bourgeoises_ sprinkled here and there in the
straight-backed pews.
The bell tolled and a low murmuring began. They were reciting the
Office of the Rosary. Paul was stirred by the scene as never before by
any devotional services and in spite of his eager desire to learn more
about the dark-eyed lady, all through the prayers and responses he
was rapt as in some mystic spell. With the _bénédicité_ by the young
abbe, a column of incense rose before the Calvary, a moving
pearl-coloured shaft in the soft light, for the sun had set. And as
the cantors and the pious folk at worship sang _Tantum ergo_ the Host
was borne out through the gate at the east end of the choir to the
Lady altar.
To Paul it seemed as if the full meaning of the Roman Catholic faith
was borne upon him for the first time. With a tremendous influence
upon his emotions, its intimate relation with the soul and the
sentiment of the human hearts gathered there quickened the utmost
depths of his nature. Having thus witnessed that impressive service,
it was impossible for him to feel that he was not one with it, and of
it; and all differences of religious creeds escaped his mind.
Surely, he thought, this is a communion of the spirit--the fruit of
simple feeling and natural impulse. For the moment he had forgotten
that he was the descendant of a long line of staunch supporters of the
Church of England.
The singing ceased, and still Paul stood with head uncovered. In his
exaltation the thought came to him that this vision so like his Queen,
which he was seeking here in this byway of the earth, had been sent to
him by his dear Lady. Had she not told him that although parted from
him in the flesh, she would always be with him in the spirit? And now
that her beautiful being had been borne away from this world of
strife, was it not possible that by some intercession she had been
able to send another, almost as divine as herself, to comfort and
strengthen him?
From that time the impulse which had sent Paul on his search was fired
by some mysterious, guiding hand. His quest became a sacred duty.
Filled with the new mission, seized by a sudden fervour as were the
knights in olden days, crusaders who had made their vows on the cross
in that very sanctuary, Paul moved quietly towards the chancel, there
to bespeak a blessing.
With outstretched hand the priest murmured the words Paul craved. Then
he rose, and was walking slowly toward the door of the transept, when
he came to an image of the Virgin, before which a single candle
burned. And there, before the sacred figure, knelt the lovely object
of his pilgrimage. Impressed by a reverence of the scene, Paul passed
on, filled with a holy joy. At last he felt a strange exalting peace.
Paul little dreamed the nature of the lady's prayers. Conscious of the
suddenly awakened love, which that feverish kiss had stirred to life
within her, she had come to the cathedral to seek for spiritual help.
She had felt the need of some higher will than her own to strengthen
her resolve to steel her heart against this fiery wooer. She was
filled with an almost irresistible longing to throw herself into his
arms and confess her quickening love. And that she knew too well she
must not do.
At last she lifted her bowed head, and rising slowly to her feet, she
genuflected before the altar. Then she turned and slipped through a
door of a small side chapel, into which the black-bearded man closely
followed. Paul's instinct was to follow, too, and, in the calm
security of a mind made up, he retraced his steps down the aisle.
He saw that it would be impossible for him to approach the side chapel
by the same way as the black-bearded stranger had, if he wished to
remain unobserved. So he turned aside and drew near to the chapel by
another way, sheltering himself behind the pillars, which cast deep
shadows on the floor.
Paul was following his old stalking habit, which he had acquired when
in pursuit of big game among the Rockies. Yet with all his care he
almost blundered into his quarry. For, as he moved silently round a
pillar, he became conscious that he was so near to the lady that he
could have stretched out his hand and touched her.
In an instant he drew back and stood still behind a massive column. He
could see nothing, but he could hear the voices of the girl and her
companion in low and earnest conversation.
At first it was the man who did most of the talking, and from what few
of his words he could catch Paul judged him to be speaking in French.
He droned on for some minutes, and then his voice died away.
Mademoiselle Vseslavitch now asked several questions in quiet, low
tones. The man answered sharply and incisively, and it seemed to Paul
that there was command in his voice.
For a while there was a complete silence, which at last was broken by
long, choking sobs. Edging a little farther round the pillar, Paul saw
the lady kneeling upon a _prie-dieu_ as though in an abandonment of
grief. She was crying as though her heart would break, her face
buried in her hands. The sombre man stood by like some tall shadow,
silent and unmoving.
A quick and great desire to go to her aid, to gather her into his arms
and comfort her, took possession of Verdayne. But great as his desire
was, he forced it down, recognizing that the moment had not come for
him to intervene.
Presently the sombre man moved closer to Mademoiselle Vseslavitch's
side, and, putting out a gloved hand, touched her lightly, and with
the air of one offering silent sympathy, on the shoulder.
Paul heard him murmuring what must have been words of comfort, and
before long she lifted her face and resolutely wiped away her tears.
Then she rose and went forward to the altar, on the steps of which she
knelt and prayed. Finally she came back to the black-bearded man and
held out her hand, and Paul saw with still growing wonder that the man
bent over it as though with great respect and brushed her fingers with
his lips. Without any further word she walked quickly and quietly
away, making for the door through which she had entered the cathedral.
The man, with a little sigh, picked up his hat and followed her, Paul
hard upon his heels.
Outside in the sunshine, Verdayne watched the fair Russian make across
the square by the way which she had come. Her companion turned
abruptly to the right and walked rapidly away.
Paul followed her till she came to the _Hôtel de la République_, when
she disappeared through the doorway.
* * * * *
Darkness fell and Paul saw no more of his beautiful Russian. In spite
of all his efforts she still remained as great a mystery as ever.
Almost beside himself with impatience, he returned to the hotel. Many
wild, almost boyish, schemes, by which he hoped he could meet the lady
entered his head. Most of them Paul rejected--and none of them could
be put into execution, for the one responsible for their conception
remained hid in the little _hôtel_.
Considerably at odds with the world, he went in to dinner, the
excellence of which did not dispel his gloom.
"Confounded silly, this!" he complained to himself. "Here I am, a
lonely knight, eating a marvelously good dinner in enforced solitude,
with a beautiful lady imprisoned in the upper rooms of the castle. In
the rare old days I could go up and knock the jailers' heads
together, break in the door, and bear the captive damsel away on my
charger. But in this unromantic age I can't even send in my card."