_The Next Step_
The following afternoon it seemed to Nona Davis that all Petrograd was
a-glitter with onion-shaped domes. The Russian priests explained that
these domes were really shaped like folded rosebuds, symbolizing the
church on earth that was to blossom in heaven. But to see them in this
fashion required a Russian imagination.
However, the effect was very beautiful, and Nona was glad to have her
attention diverted, as she started out to find the Cathedral of St.
Isaac. Some of the domes were of blue, set with stars to represent the
canopy of the sky. But Nona knew that the central dome of St. Isaac's
was an enormous copper ball covered with gold and that its radiance
could be seen at a great distance.
She had had great difficulty in fulfilling her engagement with Katja.
At first she had tried to deceive Barbara in regard to her intention,
being fully determined to continue her search for Sonya until she had
discovered her; nevertheless, it did not seem worth while to trouble
Barbara while she had no actual information to go upon. But Barbara
would not be deceived.
Nona suggested that she wished to walk for several hours and feared the
younger girl might become fatigued. In reply Barbara assured her that
there was nothing she herself so much desired as exercise, and as for
growing tired, Nona would the sooner be worn out, since she was the one
who had been ill.
Afterwards, while there were other excuses for her departure which Nona
struggled to invent, all were equally useless. From the first Barbara
had guessed her plan. Although she had seen nothing and knew nothing of
Nona's meeting with Katja the day before, she had immediately guessed
that Nona's desire for a solitary excursion was in some way connected
with her effort to find Sonya Valesky. And this effort the younger girl
continued to oppose.
So Nona had finally departed, leaving Barbara in tears over her
obstinacy and foolhardiness. She was very unhappy, but what else was
possible for her to do? Had Barbara been in the same need that Sonya
now was, surely no one could have persuaded her to turn her back upon
Barbara.
Katja was waiting and fortunately there were but a few other persons in
the Cathedral at the same hour.
As quickly and as intelligently as she knew how, the old woman explained
that Sonya was in a civil prison in Petrograd and was to be tried for
treason within another week. Katja had not seen her child, but had
received a few lines in reply to a dozen letters which a friend had
written for her. Katja herself could neither read nor write.
Although Nona could speak only a few words of Russian, she had learned
to read a little of the language with difficulty. Now she managed to
translate her friend's ideas, if not her exact words.
Sonya did not wish Katja to try to see her nor to attempt to appear at
the prison at the hour of her trial. Nothing could be done for her
release and Katja would only be made the more miserable. Neither was
Katja to let Nona know anything of her whereabouts until after sentence
was passed. Then if Katja could find the American girl she was to say
farewell for Sonya Valesky. She was also to thank Nona for her kindness
and add that the acquaintance with her friend's daughter had brought
Sonya much happiness.
Standing with the crumpled sheet of paper in her hand, written by the
woman who so soon expected to say farewell to the things that make life
worth living, Nona Davis felt her own cheeks flush and her eyes fill
with tears. How little had she really deserved the Russian woman's
affection, for how much she had distrusted her!
Well, Nona again determined to do all that was possible now to prove her
allegiance.
As soon as she could get away from Katja, Nona secured a sleigh and
drove at once to the house of the American Ambassador. Because her card
represented her as an American Red Cross nurse she felt assured that she
would be treated with every courtesy.
This was perfectly true, although obliged to wait half an hour; finally
one of the secretaries of the Ambassador invited the American girl into
a small office. She could not, of course, see the Ambassador without a
special engagement, but the secretary would be pleased to do whatever
was possible.
Nona was both pleased and relieved. The secretary proved to be a
southerner, a young fellow from Georgia, who could not have been more
than twenty-five years old. Certainly it was far easier to tell the
story of Sonya Valesky to him than to an older man or to one whose
time was more valuable.
Nevertheless, when she had finished, although there was no doubt of
the secretary's attention and interest, Nona found him equally as
discouraging as everybody else had been concerning Sonya Valesky's
fate and any part which she might have hoped to play in it. There
could be little doubt that Sonya would be condemned to Siberia. She
was a political prisoner and would not be tried by a military court.
Her offense was spoken of as sedition, or as an infringement of the
"Defense of the Realm" act. For Sonya had been endeavoring to induce
the Russian soldiers to join her peace societies rather than to fight
for their country.
The young American secretary did his best to make the situation plain to
Nona Davis. In England or France, under the same circumstances, Sonya
Valesky might have escaped with only a short term of imprisonment or a
fine. But this would not be true in Russia. Besides, it appeared that
Sonya was an old offender and that her socialist ideas were well known.
It would be impossible for the American Ambassador or any member of his
staff to make the smallest effort in Sonya's behalf. Such an effort
would represent an act of discourtesy on the part of the United States
Government, as if she were attempting to interfere with Russia's
treatment of her own subjects.
There was one thing only which the young secretary could undertake in
Nona's cause. He would make an effort to have her allowed to visit her
friend. If Sonya's trial was not to take place for a week, it was just
possible that the American girl might be permitted to see her.
So Nona was compelled to go away with only this small consolation.
However, before leaving she secured the address of an American family
in Petrograd who might be willing to take her as a boarder. For Nona
realized that with her present plan she could not longer remain as a
guest in the Countess' house.
Then Barbara had again to be reckoned with. It was early dusk when Nona
Davis finally reached their apartment in the splendid Russian house.
Barbara had just finished tea, but the tea things had not been sent
away.
Because Nona was evidently so tired and discouraged the younger girl
comforted her with tea and cakes before beginning to ask questions.
Afterwards Barbara insisted upon being told the entire account of the
afternoon's experiences. Nona must begin with her meeting with Katja,
her interview in the Cathedral, then her visit to the house of the
United States Ambassador and finally the description of the place where
she had engaged board before returning to her temporary home.
Although Barbara was ordinarily much given to conversation and frequent
interruptions of other people's anecdotes, she listened without comment
until the other girl had finished.
"We are both too tired to pack up our few possessions tonight, Nona,"
she answered in conclusion; "but we can attend to them in the morning
and then say good-by to the Countess."
Nona was lying upon a divan with her yellow head sunk among a number of
brown cushions, but she got half way up at Barbara's words.
"But I don't expect _you_ to leave here, Barbara dear, to go with
me," she protested. "I didn't engage board for anyone else. The house
where I am to stay is shabby and not especially comfortable. I wouldn't
have you leave this lovely home for worlds! I am sorry, you may be a
little lonely without me. But I am hoping we may hear from Mildred at
almost any hour and then I'm sure the Countess would be only too happy
to have her take my place here. I expect Mildred will be a distinguished
character after having been chosen to nurse the great General Alexis."
"Don't talk nonsense," Barbara protested, in answer to the first part of
her friend's speech. "Of course, I am not going to let you wander off
and live in a strange family by yourself." Then Barbara sighed.
She was sitting on a small stool beside Nona's couch, resting her chin
on her hand and looking very childish and homesick.
"Of course, I know you have to do whatever you can for Sonya Valesky,
Nona," she agreed unexpectedly. "In your position I hope I would have
the courage to behave in the same way. I have only made a fuss about
things because I was worried for you, but I have always known you would
not pay any attention to me. Nobody ever does."
Although Nona laughed and attempted to argue this point, Barbara
remained unconvinced.
"Oh, well, possibly Dick or Eugenia can sometimes be persuaded into
doing what I ask, but never you or Mildred," she concluded, and then
sighed again. "If we could hear just a single word from Mildred!"
The next day the two girls moved to their new lodgings. Their hostess
was gracious enough, but made no protest when Nona explained that she
expected to be permitted to visit the Russian prisoner within the next
few days.
The order to see Sonya came sooner than Nona expected. Indeed, the two
girls had only been in their new quarters for about thirty-six hours
when the young secretary from the embassy called upon them. With him he
brought the permit from the Russian government.
Nona was to be allowed to visit the prison near the Troitska bridge on
the following day and to spend ten minutes with her friend. She must
understand that a guard would listen to whatever conversation was held.
Also she must take with her nothing of any kind to present to Sonya
Valesky. Their interview would be closely watched.
Naturally Barbara Meade insisted upon accompanying Nona. She knew, of
course, that she would not be allowed to see the prisoner, nor had she
the least wish to see her. But she could wait in some antechamber until
the ten minutes passed and then bring Nona safely back to their lodging
place. For certainly the experience ahead of her friend would be a
painful one, and although Nona did her best to conceal her nervousness
from the younger girl, Barbara again was not deluded.
When the two girls set out for the prison the next afternoon it would
have been difficult to decide which one most dreaded the ordeal. But in
truth the ordeal was in a way a mutual one. While she waited, doubtless
Barbara's imagination would paint as tragic a scene as Nona might be
obliged to go through with.
It seemed to Nona Davis, after leaving Barbara, that she walked down a
mile or more of corridor. The corridor might have been an underground
sewer, so dark and unwholesome were its sights and smells. It led past
dozens of small iron doors with locks and chains fastened on the
outside.
Finally Nona's guard paused before one of these doors and then opened
it. Inside was an iron grating with bars placed at intervals of about
six inches apart. The room it barricaded was six feet square and
contained a bed and stool. There was one small window overhead, not much
larger than a single pane of glass in an average old-fashioned window.
But the light from the window fell directly upon the head of the woman
who was seated beneath it.
Sonya Valesky had not been told that she was to receive a visitor. So
perhaps Nona did appear like a sudden vision of a Fra Angelico angel,
standing unexpectedly in the dark corridor with her hair as golden as a
shaft of sunlight.
Sonya only stared at the girl without speaking. But Nona saw that her
friend's dark hair, which had been a little streaked with gray at their
first meeting more than two years before, was now almost pure white.
However, Sonya did not look particularly ill or unhappy; her blue eyes
were still serene. Whatever faith in life she may have lost, she had not
lost faith in the cause for which she must suffer.
"Don't you know me, Sonya?" Nona asked almost timidly, as if she were
talking to a stranger.
Then the Russian woman came forward with all her former dignity and
grace. She was wearing a black dress of some rough material, but it
seemed to Nona Davis that she had never seen a more beautiful woman.
Sonya was like a white lily found growing in some underground dungeon.
She put her hands through the bars and took hold of Nona's cold ones.
"This is wonderfully kind of you, Nona?" she said with the simplicity
of manner that had always distinguished her. "I have wanted to know what
had become of you and your friends. Somehow information sifts even
inside a prison in war times, and I have learned that General Alexis
gave up trying to hold Grovno. You are on your way back home, I trust."
Nona could scarcely reply. It seemed so strange that Sonya could be
talking in such an everyday fashion, as if her visit were being made
under ordinary circumstances. Not a word did she say of her own sorrow
or the tragedy that lay ahead of her.
Nona could only fight back the tears. "We are returning to France as
soon as Mildred Thornton joins us in Petrograd," she answered, and then
explained that Mildred had stayed behind at Grovno.
"But isn't there anything I can do for you, Sonya?" Nona added. "I shall
certainly not leave Petrograd until after your trial, and then if you
are released you must come away with me."
The older woman only shook her head.
"I shall not be released, Nona, so don't make yourself unhappy with
false hopes. This is not my first offense against the government of
Russia. I have never believed in the things in which they believe, not
since I was a little girl. I suppose I am a troublesome character. But
after all, in going to Siberia I am only following the footsteps of
greater men and women than I can hope to resemble."
Sonya let go Nona's hands and stepped back into her little room. From
under her pillow she drew a small folded paper.
"In going to Siberia I forfeit all my estates, Nona," Sonya Valesky
explained when she came back. "But I have a small amount of money in
the United States, as well as in my own country. Perhaps the government
may be willing to allow me to dispose of my property, although of course
I can't tell. But I have made a will and had it witnessed here in the
prison. If it is possible I want you to have half of the little I have
left and Katja and Nika the rest. There would be no chance to leave it
to the cause of peace in these days."
Nona received the little paper.
"You won't be in Siberia all your life, Sonya, that I won't believe,"
she protested. "Some day when this war is over the Czar will pardon you.
Please remember that I shall never forget you and never stop trying to
do what I can for your release. If I am allowed to have it, I will take
care of your money until you are able to come to me."
Hearing a guttural noise behind her, Nona Davis now turned around. Her
guard was signaling that the time allotted for her visit was over.
She was not able to kiss the older woman good-by, only to hold both her
hands close for another moment and then to go away with her eyes so
blinded with tears that she could not see. Yet she never forgot the
picture that Sonya Valesky made when she had a final glance at her.
Four days later a few lines appeared in the Russian daily papers,
stating that Sonya Valesky, a woman of noble birth, but at present a
Russian nihilist, had been condemned to penal servitude in Siberia for
life. She had been proved guilty of treason to the Imperial Government.