THE BEGINNING OF THE END.
It was not until a night's rest had somewhat redressed the balance of
my emotions and had rendered me again subject to the pressure of
actualities that I fully realised how the avowal of my love had rather
increased than diminished the difficulties of our position.
Despite my fatigue and wound I was stirring in good time, and had had
the doctor's report and seen the Colonel to get leave from regimental
work, in time to get round to see Olga pretty early. I wished to see
her and discuss the whole position before going to report to Prince
Bilbassoff the result of things with Devinsky.
The manner in which Olga met me was one of the sweetest things
imaginable and the presence of the good aunt, Countess Palitzin, added
to its effect. They were sitting together when I entered.
"It is Alexis, aunt," said Olga rising. She was a mixture of laughing
love and sisterly indifference.
"Alexis, you are a good lad, a dear lad," said the old lady, usually
very stately and punctilious. "Come here, boy, and kiss me and let me
kiss you. You have done splendidly and bravely in this matter of Olga.
She has told me all about it."
"All?" I echoed, looking at Olga, who tried to keep the smile that was
dancing in her eyes from travelling to her lips.
"All that a sister need tell," she said.
"Olga, I have no patience with you," exclaimed the aunt. "You have a
brother in a thousand--in ten thousand, and yet you speak in that way.
And I see you never kiss him now. I should like to know why. Are you
ashamed of him? Here he has saved you from all this trouble, and you
give him the points of your finger nails to touch. Yet you are not
cold and feelingless in other things."
"I am glad that you speak to her like this," I said, gravely. "She
seems to think that a sister should never kiss such a brother as I am."
"Do you mean to say you think I have given you no reason to believe I
am thankful for what you have done?" she retorted, fencing cleverly.
"I don't echo our aunt's words, that you are cold and feelingless,
Olga--she is not that, Aunt Palitzin. But I do find that as a sister
she places a strong reserve on her feelings."
"To hear you speak," said Olga, laughing lightly, "one might think I
had two characters: in one of which I was all warmth and affection; in
the other all coldness and reserve."
"And I believe that would be about right, child," said the Countess.
"For when the boy is not here your tongue never tires of praising him;
and yet the moment he comes, he might be a stranger instead of your own
nearest and dearest."
Olga blushed crimson at this.
"Brothers have to be treated judiciously," she said.
"'Judiciously,' Olga. Why, what on earth do you mean? How could you
love a brave fellow like Alexis injudiciously?"
"Love is often best when it is most injudicious," said I,
sententiously, coming to Olga's rescue; but she betrayed me shamefully.
Looking innocently at me she asked:--
"Would you like us to be a pair of injudicious lovers, then, Alexis?"
"If I never shew more lack of judgment than in my love for you, I shall
get well through life, Olga," I retorted.
"You are certainly a most unusual brother, I can tell you," she said,
smiling slily.
"If every brother had such a sister, the tie that binds us two would be
a much more usual one," I answered.
"You are incorrigible," she laughed and turned away.
"I am glad you speak so seriously, Alexis," said my aunt. "I'll be no
party to any deception. She does love you, boy, however much she may
try to hide it when you are here;" and with this, which set us both
laughing again, the old lady went away.
"Does she?" I asked; and the question brought Olga with a happy look
into my arms.
But I had not come to make love, sweet though it was to have the girl's
arms about me; and as soon as I could, I began in talk seriously about
the position.
In the first place I told her everything that had happened; and there
was one thing that amused her, despite the tremendously critical state
of our affairs. It was about the great suitor the Prince had promised
for her.
"What, another?" she said, with a comical crinkling of her forehead.
"Upon my word what with brothers and lovers, I am sorely plagued. This
makes the..." she stopped.
"How many?"
"I don't think I know. Either two or three, according as we reckon
you. While you're my brother, two I suppose. Otherwise three."
"'Otherwise' is a good deal shaky, I'm afraid," said I, shaking my
head. "And I begin to question whether he'll ever count."
"He may not; but in that case no other ever will," returned Olga
earnestly. "Did you say that on purpose to get another assurance from
me?"
"No, indeed. I only spoke out of the reality of my doubts;" and then
we went on threshing the thing out.
"There is but one possible chance," said I, after I had told her all.
"It's a remote one, perhaps, but such as it is, we must use it. You
must go...."
"I won't leave Moscow unless you go," she broke in. "I wouldn't have
done it before when you wanted, but now...." she paused and blushed and
her eyes brightened--"wild horses shan't tear me away."
"There are stronger things than wild horses, child; and I shall appeal
to one in your case. You must go in order to try and get me out of the
muddle here."
"Yes, I'll go for that, if it's necessary," she declared as readily as
a moment before she had declined.
"It is necessary. Shortly, my idea is this. We can't get away
together at the same time. We are shut in here in the very centre of
Russia; and if we left together we could not hope to reach the frontier
for many hours after we had been missed from here; while if we were
missed only ten minutes before we got to the barrier, it would be long
enough for us to be stopped. Besides, there are ten thousand things
that come in the way. But that doesn't apply to your travelling alone;
and if I can get a passport or a permit for you, I believe you will be
able to get across the frontier before anyone has an idea that you have
even left the city. In my case that would be impossible. There are
three separate sets of lynx eyes on me. The Prince's police--the most
vigilant of all; the Nihilists--the most dangerous; and Paula
Tueski's--the most vengeful. I shall have the most difficult task to
evade them, and I believe it will be only possible, if at all, by a
sort of double cunning. But there is one way you can help."
"What is that?" asked Olga, whose interest was breathless.
"I have a friend, Balestier; you've heard of him--the Hon. Rupert
Balestier. He saw your brother in Paris and believes that some
devilment is on foot. If you can find him and tell him all that has
happened and the mess that things are in, I believe, in fact I know,
that he would exhaust every possible means of helping me. It is
possible that our Foreign Office might be moved by the influence he
could bring to bear; and I know that in such a task he'd stir up every
friend and relative he has in the world. My plan is simply this. You
must go with all possible speed to Paris: find him, tell him all, and
get him to do what he thinks best and use what efforts he can. In the
meantime if I can't escape I shall either have to feign consent with
this wretched duel and marriage business and wait on events: or if I
get a chance of leaving, slip off in an altogether different direction."
"It is a terrible trouble I have brought you to, Alexis," said the girl
sadly.
"I would pay a far bigger price for this trouble," I answered, taking
her hand and kissing it. "And when we are once out of this too
hospitable land of yours, we shall laugh at it all together."
"Yes, when?" she said; and her tone suggested a hopelessness which
responded only too well with that which I felt secretly.
While we were together, however, it was impossible for us to feel
downcast for long. There was such infinite pleasure in mere
companionship, that the grim troubles which surrounded us were shut out
of our thoughts. The present was so bright that it seemed impossible
the gloom could soon close in on us.
But when I had left her and was alone in my rooms, I was gloomy enough;
and my spirits were certainly not raised when my new servant ushered in
Paula Tueski.
"You would not come to me, Alexis, so I have to come to you," was her
greeting. "You neglect me. I suppose because of the great friends you
have made."
"Great friends?" For the moment not understanding her.
"Yes. I hear that you are finding great pleasure in the society of a
certain great lady."
"Oh, you mean the Princess Weletsky?" I laughed as I spoke.
"It does not make me laugh," she said, frowning.
"You are in mourning, and laughter sounds ill with tears," I returned.
I hated the woman worse every time I saw her.
"If I am in mourning it is you who are the cause," she cried, stamping
her foot, angrily. "I want to know what this new--new friendship,
shall I call it?--means."
"You may call it what you like. The Princess is nothing to me," said
I, thinking more of my affections than of the facts.
"And never will be?" said my companion abruptly.
"And never will be, I hope," I agreed, with the accents of unmistakable
sincerity.
But my visitor was suspicious and did not believe me. She got up and
came close to me, and stared hard into my eyes as if searching there
for the truth.
"Then why are you so cold to me? Not a kindly word, not a gesture, not
a glance that you mightn't have thrown to the veriest beggar in the
street have you given me. You, who used always to brighten when I came
near you. I have seen your eyes light up a hundred times, Alexis, when
you have let them rest on me, praising, pleasing, and loving me. And
now you are as cold as a tombstone. Will you swear to me you have no
love for this other woman--this Princess?"
"Most certainly I will."
"Ah, what is the use of an oath in which there is no fire, no life,
nothing but dead cold ashes! What has changed you? Are you thinking
of marrying this woman?"
"If she waits till I wish to marry her, she'll die unmated," I returned.
"Why can't you say yes or no to my questions?" she cried, stamping her
foot again, irritated by the little evasion. "Are you thinking of
marrying her?"
"No. Is that answer blunt enough for you?"
"It sounds like a forced lie more than anything else. Do you know what
I would do, Alexis, if I thought you meant to try and deceive me?"
"I can pretty well guess," I answered, calmly. "Probably go round and
have afternoon tea with her and tell her that little fable which you
told me the other day. You weary me with these constant threats,
Paula. They get like a musket that's held so long at one's head that
it rusts at the lock and the trigger can't be pulled. It would be so
much more interesting if you'd go and do something."
With that I turned away and lighted a cigarette, almost wishing in my
heart that I could offend her sufficiently to drive her away; and yet
sick at the knowledge of her power over Olga and me.
"I like that tone better," she said, with a laugh. "At least it shews
some kind of feeling. I hate a log. You will find I can 'do
something,' as you say, when the time comes, if you drive me. My
muskets don't miss fire."
"No, nor your daggers blunt their points. I admit you can be deadly
enough where you hate."
"Don't make me hate you, then," she retorted, quickly.
"Is that possible, Paula?" I replied, turning to her with a smile.
The instant change in this most remarkable woman at this one slight
touch of tenderness was wonderful. She was hungering for the love I
could no more give her than I could have given her the Crown of Russia,
and at this little accent of kindness she turned all softness and
smiling love.
"Ah, God! You can do as you like with me, Alexis," she cried,
excitedly. "Just then you were rousing all the devil there is in me;
and now no more than a smile drives out of my heart every thought save
of my love for you. If it is so easy to make me happy why kill me with
your coldness? Kiss me, Alexis." She came to throw her arms round me
but wishing to avoid this caress, I remembered my wound and stepping
back, kept her off.
"Mind, I have a little hurt here;" and I pointed to the place.
Little did I think of the consequences of that most simple action, or
of the price I should have to pay for shirking a few distasteful
kisses. She was at once all anxiety.
"A hurt? A wound? Tell me what it is. Have you--was it in
consequence of rescuing your sister? Have you had some fight or other?"
I told her in as few words as I could, glad to turn her thoughts from
the wish to caress me. When I had to admit that it was a slight sword
thrust, however, she insisted upon seeing the wound as well as the
places where I had torn my arm in the efforts to get rid of my bonds.
No one could fail to see her care was prompted by deep feeling.
I took off my coat and just turned up my sleeve to satisfy her
curiosity, and held out my arm for her to see, laughing half
shamefacedly as I did so, to assure her there was no cause for real
anxiety, and that she was making much of nothing.
But the effect it had on her was startling indeed.
After glancing at the marks which were fast dying away, for my skin
always heals very rapidly, she smoothed them gently and kissed them.
"It is the left arm, Alexis, always the left arm," she said, glancing
up with a smile, and speaking as if there were some special
significance in the fact--though what that could be I could not even
guess, of course.
The chief mark was on the lower part of the upper arm, just above the
elbow, and when she had kissed it and had turned it round so that the
front part of the forearm, where the muscles are broadest was in full
view, I felt her start violently, and heard her catch her breath
quickly, as if with a gasp of surprise.
She stared at it for fully a minute without raising her eyes, her only
gesture being to pass her fingers across the muscles twice.
When she raised her eyes and looked at me, there was an astounding
change in her face. She was as white as death, and trembled so
violently that even her face quivered, while her eyes were fixed on me
with an expression of wildness and mingled emotions such as I could not
read or even guess at.
"Are you ill?" I asked.
She started again as I spoke; and her lips merely moved very slightly
as she moistened them with her tongue.
And all the time she kept the same staring, strained, frowning,
questioning look fixed on me.
"What's the matter?" I cried again. "Are you ill?" I thought she was
in for a fit of some kind.
But all she did was to continue to stare with the same indescribable
intensity, the heavy brows closing together as the frown deepened on
her forehead.
"My God!"
The exclamation seemed to be wrung from her in sheer pain of thought.
She took hold of my arm again and examined the same place once more
with briefer but no less fierce scrutiny.
Then looking up again into my face she let the arm fall. She seemed to
shrink from me as she drew in one long deep shivering breath that
sounded between her teeth. Next she turned away and sat down, pressing
both her hands to her face.
Every vestige of feeling and passion had passed, leaving only the
close, concentrated, strained tension. The colour had left her cheeks:
and the roundness and beauty of her face appeared to have been
transformed in a moment into a veritable presentment of lean, haggard,
vigilant doubt.
Many minutes passed before either of us spoke. Then she got up and
again came quite close to me and staring right into my eyes, asked in a
voice all changed and unmusical--a sort of keen piercing whisper, that
seemed to send a chill through me--while she pointed to my arm:--
"What does it mean? Who are you?"
I returned the look steadily, but bit my lip nearly through as I
guessed well enough the discovery she had made. I answered lightly:--
"Excellently acted. But what is it all about?"
"Who are you? That tells me who you are not." She spoke in the same
hard discordant whisper, and pointed to my arm again.
"Are you mad?" I cried sternly. "What do you mean by this pretence?"
Her only answer was to stare with the same stony intensity right into
my eyes.
"Shall I send for my own sister to identify me?" I cried, with what I
intended as sarcastic emphasis. But the effect of my question quite
disconcerted me.
It broke her down and with a cry that was almost a scream, she threw
herself into a chair and gave vent to emotions that were no longer
controllable.
For an hour she was in this semi-hysterical condition; and I could
guess the leading thought of her frenzy. If I was not the man she had
believed, she would jump to the thought that Olga and I were lovers,
and not brother and sister. Her jealousy made her a madwoman.
By the time she had recovered from her frenzy I had resolved on my
course. The only thing possible was to hold strenuously to the old
deception. What had shaken her belief in me, I could not, of course,
even guess. If by any means she could make her words good, it was
clear she carried my life in her hands. Strong as the story which she
had concocted as to my supposed crime would have been against the real
Alexis, it was a hundred times stronger as told against someone
impersonating Alexis for what she would of course declare were Nihilist
purposes. The mere fact of the impersonation would be accepted as
proof of guilt in everything: while Olga's share in the conspiracy
would render her liable to a punishment only less in extent than mine.
As I thought of all this, my rage against the woman passed almost
beyond control; but I forced it back and listened when she
spoke--telling me of all the things which had made me seem so
different. My conduct to her; my manner; my lack of love; the
difference in looks, in gestures, and in what I said and the way I said
it; the thousand things that had set her wondering at the change in me.
Then she spoke of the change in my sister's conduct; how a word from me
had made her friendly where a thousand words before had failed. And
when she spoke and thought of Olga, she seemed to lose again all
self-control; declaring she had been made a tool and a dupe of for some
purposes of our own.
My protestations were of no avail. She brushed them aside with abrupt
contempt, and when I tried to find out indirectly what her proof was,
she laughed angrily and would not tell me.
"I will tell you when I bid you good-bye for Siberia, or see you for
the last time in the condemned cell. You shall not die in ignorance,"
she said: and then she went on to dwell with horrible detail upon the
punishments that were in store for both Olga and myself.
But she overdid it all; and shewed me her weak point. She thus gave me
a clue to my best tactics. Her feeling was not hate of me, but
jealousy of Olga. This strange and most impulsive woman had had her
love tricked as well as her judgment; and the love which she had had
for Olga's brother was now transferred to me. Her chief fear was lest
Olga was really to come between us. When she stopped, I tested her.
"You have found a ridiculous mare's nest," I said, with a short laugh.
"And I have something more important to do than to listen to your
fictions. If you think there is any truth in the thing, by all means
tell all you know. But I warn you beforehand you will fail--fail
ignominiously: and what is more, lose all you have said you wish to
gain. My great object now is to get Olga out of the country, so that I
may be free to carry out my plans."
She looked up as I spoke, and I saw the light of hope in her eyes.
"That you may follow her, I suppose you mean?"
"You can suppose what you please," I answered, shortly. "If you wish
to break off all between us by this ridiculous story, do so. But bear
in mind, it is your act, not mine; and when once done, done
irrevocably."
She wrung her hands in indecision.
"Can I trust you?"
"Can you get me a permit for Olga to leave the country? That's more to
the point."
"Yes--alone." There was a world of meaning in that single word.
"Then get it; and as soon as a railway engine can drag her across the
frontier, she will be out of Russia, and out of my way, much to my
relief."
She sat silent in perplexity.
"You can't go! You shan't go!" she cried. "You have made me do these
things, whoever you are, and you must stay--for me."
I smiled. I had won. Then I changed as it were to a rather fanatical
Nihilist, and cried warmly:--
"The ties that keep me here, Paula, are ties of death and blood; and
such as no woman's hand can either fashion or destroy."
She looked at me long and intently and put her hands on my arms and her
face close up to mine and said in a soft seductive tone:--
"If I get that permit, all shall be as it was?"
"All shall be as it was, Paula," I answered, adopting her equivocal
phrase, and bent and kissed her on the forehead. But I was playing for
a big stake: Olga's life probably, and my own certainly: and I could
not afford the luxury of absolute candour at that crisis of the game.
But I did not win without conditions.
"I will get it," she said; "but you remember what I told you before. I
repeat it now. You are more surely mine than ever; more surely than
ever in my power, Alexis." She emphasized the word and a glance shewed
me her meaning. "And we must be married secretly within three days
from now. I will make the arrangements."
"As you will," I replied; and I felt glad that in a measure her resort
to this compulsion gave me a sort of justification for misleading her.
In less than three days' the Czar's visit would be over and I should
either be dead or out of Russia.
But Olga would be saved; and that would be much.