_The Unexpected Happens_
One afternoon a short time after the visit to the Winter Palace, General
Alexis and Lieutenant Orlaff came to the girls' lodgings to have a drive
in the sleigh with them.
It was a cold, brilliant afternoon, and they were to undertake a more
interesting excursion than usual. Nevertheless, Barbara Meade refused to
go.
There were letters which she must write, she pleaded. However, this was
not Barbara's real reason: that fact she kept in her own head. Both
Mildred and Nona she assisted to get ready, insisting that they both
dress as warmly as possible, no matter how stuffy they might feel before
starting.
"You are both blondes and a blonde is never so homely as when she is
cold," she added sententiously, "for her face is much more apt to get
blue than red, except the end of her nose."
Mildred had purchased a lovely fur hat to match her sable coat. And in
spite of her poverty Nona had been unable to resist a set of black fox.
Furs were so much cheaper in Russia than in the United States that it
really almost seemed one's duty to buy them.
When General Alexis' sleigh arrived, Barbara would not even go
downstairs to see the others start. But she managed by pressing
her nose against the window to observe that the arrangements for
the drive were satisfactory.
The sleigh was a beautiful one, built of mahogany, and the pair of
horses wore real silver mountings on their harness.
A driver, in the Imperial livery, sat upon the front seat with a man
beside him, who acted as a private guard for General Alexis, although he
wore citizen's clothes. There was far less danger of anarchy in Russia
during war times; nevertheless, men in public positions in Russia were
always watchful of trouble from fanatics.
Therefore, General Alexis and Mildred were together in the middle seat,
while Nona and Lieutenant Orlaff occupied the one back of them.
Then the sleigh started off so quickly that it had disappeared before
Barbara realized it. Afterwards, with feminine inconsistency, she turned
back into their small sitting room, frowning and sighing.
"I do wish I had gone along, after all. There wasn't any place for me,
except to sit either between Mildred and General Alexis, or Nona and her
Russian lieutenant. Then nobody would have had a good time. Still,
perhaps I should have stuck close to Mildred; she is almost my sister.
And though Mrs. Thornton might be pleased, Judge Thornton and Dick would
be wretched. Russia is so far away and so cold."
Then Barbara made no further explanation, even to herself, of her
enigmatic state of mind, but fell to writing letters as she had planned.
Some thought she devoted to what she should write Dick about his
sister's friend, the distinguished Russian general. But whatever she
planned sounded either too pointed or else had no point at all. So she
merely closed her letter by explaining that the others had gone for a
ride and that General Alexis appeared extremely grateful to Mildred for
her care of him in his illness. She also mentioned that she personally
liked the distinguished soldier very much and that he was not nearly so
foreign as one might expect.
This was not a sensible statement, for General Alexis could scarcely
have been more of a Russian than he was. A foreigner, of course, simply
is an individual who belongs to another country than one's own.
Presumably an American is equally a foreigner to a European. What
Barbara actually meant was that General Alexis was not unlike the men to
whom she had been accustomed in the United States. He had the courtesy
and quiet dignity of the most distinguished of her own countrymen. There
was nothing particularly oriental about him or his attitude to women.
The truth is that Barbara did not appreciate the fact that General
Alexis was too cosmopolitan to show many of the peculiarities of his
race. He had seen too much of the world and studied and thought too
deeply. Besides, he was a man of real gentleness and simplicity.
As Mildred rode beside him, she too was wondering why she felt so at
ease with so great a person. Why, at home, in New York society, she had
always been awkward and tongue-tied with the most ordinary young man
worthy of no thought. Now she was telling General Alexis the entire
story of Sonya Valesky as she might have told it to her own father. And
she felt equally sure of his sympathy and understanding. General Alexis
would, of course, have no political sympathy with Sonya's ideas. He was
a soldier devoted to his Czar and his country, while in his opinion
Sonya could only be regarded as mistaken and dangerous. But Mildred
knew that he would be sorry for Sonya, the woman, and sorry for them
as her friends.
So she described their original meeting on board the "Philadelphia," and
the suspicion, then wrongfully directed against Sonya, who was at that
time using the name of Lady Dorian. Afterwards she told of Sonya's
appearance at the Sacred Heart Hospital and her work there. Last of all,
of their unexpected coming together in Russia and of the peculiar bond
between Nona Davis and the Russian woman.
At the beginning of her conversation with General Alexis, Mildred had no
idea in mind, except to tell the story that had been weighing heavily
upon her since Nona's confidence. Ever since she had seen the picture of
Sonya, as Nona had last seen her, the beautiful woman with her too-soon
white hair and the haunting beauty of her tragic blue eyes. She, a woman
of rare refinement and not yet forty, to spend the rest of her life
working among the convicts in Siberia. It was as if she were buried
alive!
Suddenly it occurred to Mildred that she might ask the advice of General
Alexis. She did not believe it possible that anything could be done for
Sonya Valesky now, after her sentence had been passed. But still it
would be well to feel they had tried all that was possible.
"You don't think, General, that there is anything that could be done
to have Sonya Valesky pardoned, do you?" she inquired, with unconscious
wistfulness. "You see, my friend, Nona Davis, wants so much to take
Madame Valesky back to the United States with her. Then neither she
nor her ideas would be of any more danger to Russia. Nona says Madame
Valesky is much broken by her illness and confinement. She had a
terrible attack of fever only a short time before. Probably she
won't live very long, if she is taken to Siberia."
Then, to hide her tears from her companion, Mildred turned her head
aside. General Alexis seemed to be staring at her very steadfastly. But
fortunately the beauty of the landscape surrounding them gave her an
excuse for the movement.
They had crossed the Nicholas bridge and were driving out among the
parks and estates that cover the small islands, set like jewels among
the white fastness of the river Neva. Here and there the river was
solid ice, in other places the thin ice was decorated with a light
coating of snow.
The handsome private homes of Petrograd are situated in these island
suburbs. Beautiful trees and lawns come down to the water's edge. But
today they too were snow sprinkled and most of the homes were closed.
Mildred attempted to pretend that her attention had been attracted by
one of these houses, built like a glorified Swiss chalet.
But General Alexis continued to gaze at the side of her cheek and
Mildred was painfully conscious that the tears might at any moment
slide out of her eyes.
"You care very much about this woman, this Sonya Valesky, Miss
Thornton?" General Alexis inquired. "You say that she is a friend
of yours and that it will bring you great distress if she must suffer
the penalty of her mistakes? I do not wish you to leave Russia in
unhappiness."
Mildred slowly shook her head. Had she been almost any other girl, she
would have seen nothing to deny in her companion's last speech. But
Mildred had the spirit of entire truthfulness that belongs to only a
few natures.
"No, I cannot say that Madame Valesky is exactly _my_ friend," she
answered slowly. "I do not know her very well, but I think I should care
for her a great deal if we could know each other better. Perhaps she was
altogether wrong; anyhow, I do not think she should have attempted to
persuade the Russians not to fight for their country at a time like
this. Yet when one has seen the horrible, the almost useless suffering
that I have seen in these few years I have been acting as a Red Cross
nurse, well, one can hardly condemn a human being who believes in peace.
Still, Madame Valesky is in reality more Nona's friend than mine."
Pausing abruptly, Mildred again turned her face to look at the soldier
beside her. She had been tactless as usual in thus expressing her
feelings about peace to a man who was a great warrior. But General
Alexis did not appear angry. Indeed, there was no disagreement in the
expression of his eyes, it was almost as if he too felt as Mildred did.
Besides, his next words were:
"I too appreciate what you feel, Miss Thornton, and I too am sorry for
this Sonya Valesky. War is a great, a terrible evil, and there was never
a time when the world so realized it as it does now. It is my hourly
prayer that, after this vast bloodshed, war shall vanish from the face
of the earth. But this will not happen if we give up the fight while we
are in the thick of it. So Madame Valesky was wrong, so wrong that I
might think she deserved her fate, if I did not feel her more mistaken
than wicked."
General Alexis paused and his face grew suddenly lined and thoughtful,
as Mildred had seen it in those days at Grovno. Of what he was thinking
the girl did not dream, but neither would she wish to have intruded upon
his train of thought.
So she sat quite still with her hands folded under the heavy fur rug and
her gray-blue eyes fastened on the snow-covered landscape. Mildred had
grown handsomer since her coming to Europe. She would never be
beautiful in the ordinary acceptance of the term. But she was the type
of girl who becomes handsomer as she grows older, when character which
makes the real beauty of a woman's face had a chance to reveal itself.
Already a great deal of her awkwardness and angularity had disappeared
with the self-confidence, or rather more the self-forgetfulness which
her work had given her. Her eyes had a deeper, less unsatisfied
expression and her always handsome mouth more humor. For her own
experiences and the friendship with the three other American Red Cross
nurses had taught her to see many things in truer proportion.
"Miss Thornton," Mildred's attention was again aroused by her companion,
"I want to tell you something, but I want you to promise me you will not
have too much hope in consequence. I have been thinking of this Sonya
Valesky. I believe I can remember her father, or if not her father
himself, at least I knew him by reputation. He did not share his
daughter's views, but was the faithful servant of the present Czar's
father. Moreover, the Czar is my friend, so I mean to tell him the story
of Sonya Valesky and see if he will pardon her. She must, of course,
leave Russia, perhaps never to return."
General Alexis had been in a measure thinking aloud. But now Mildred's
sudden exclamation of happiness made his eyes soften into a look of
kindliness that again reminded the girl of her father.
"But, my child, you must not hope too much," he remonstrated. "The Czar
may not feel as I do about your friend. After your service to me there
is little you could desire which I would not wish to give you."
One would never have thought of General Alexis as a great soldier at
this moment. The heavy lines of his face had gone. There was no
sternness about his mouth. His eyes, which were so surprisingly blue
because of his other dark coloring, gazed at Mildred's until for an
instant she dropped the lids over her own, feeling embarrassed without
exactly knowing why.
The next moment she looked directly at the man, whom she felt sure was
her friend, in spite of the differences in their ages, their rank and
their countries.
"General Alexis, I am going to ask you to do me a favor--no, I don't
mean about Sonya this time. I shall be more grateful than I can even try
to say for that kindness. But this is something which does not concern
anyone except just you and me. Will you never in the future speak or
think of the service which you are good enough to say I have rendered
you." Actually, Mildred was now twisting her hands together in the old
nervous fashion which she thought she had overcome. "It is difficult for
me to say things," she went on, "but I want you to know that the
greatest honor I shall ever have in my life was the privilege of nursing
you. If I did help make you well, why I am so happy and proud the favor
is on my side and not yours." And Mildred ended with a slight gasp,
feeling her cheeks burning in spite of the cold, so unaccustomed was
she to making long speeches or to revealing her emotions.
"Miss Thornton," General Alexis returned. Then instead of finishing his
sentence he leaned over and touched his coachman.
"Stop the sleigh for a moment. We are growing cold. It will be better
for us to walk for ten or fifteen minutes and then come back to the
sleigh." Again he spoke to Mildred.
"You will come with me for a little?" he asked. "It will be wiser for
you not to grow stiff with sitting still." Afterwards he said something
to Lieutenant Orlaff, to which he and Nona agreed.
Five minutes later Mildred was walking across the snow toward the river,
with her hand resting on General Alexis' arm. She was colder than she
had imagined and it was difficult to walk over the icy and unfamiliar
ground.
But suddenly she stopped and gave an exclamation of surprise and delight
which was almost one of awe.
She and General Alexis were alone. Nona and Lieutenant Orlaff had walked
off in an opposite direction. But Mildred now beheld the sun setting
upon the Russian capital. Beneath, the world was pure white, and above,
the sky a glory of orange and purple and rose. Between the two,
suspended like giant fairy balls, were the great domes of Petrograd's
many churches.
"I shall never, never forget that picture so long as I live. It will
stay with me as my vision of Petrograd long after I have gone home to my
own country," Mildred said simply. Then she stopped in her walk and held
out her hand. "Thank you for this afternoon."
General Alexis did not release the girl's hand. Instead he lifted it to
his lips and kissed it, although the hand was covered with a heavy
glove.
Then he smiled at Mildred almost boyishly. "I want to say something to
you, Miss Thornton, which I suppose a woman does not really mind
hearing, no matter to what country she belongs or what her answer may
be. In these weeks I have known you I have come to care for you very
deeply. I am old enough perhaps to be your father. I have said this to
myself a hundred times and that it ought to make my feeling impossible.
It has not. Naturally I understand that my age may make it impossible
for you to return my affection, but it has not made the difference with
me. I love you, Mildred. I have known many women, but have never met one
so fine and sweet as you. It is the custom of your country when a man
cares for a woman to tell her so, is it not, or perhaps I should have
written first to your father?"
General Alexis' manner was so naïve, almost as if he had been a boy
instead of one of the most distinguished men in Europe. Mildred could
almost have smiled if she had not been so overwhelmed by his speech.
Was General Alexis actually saying that he was in love with her? No one
had ever proposed to her in her life and she had never expected that any
one would care sufficiently. But that the words should come from the man
whom she felt to be a genius and a hero! No wonder Mildred was
speechless for a moment.
"General Alexis, I have never dreamed of anything like this. I only
hoped at the most that you were my friend," she answered a little later.
"Really, I don't know--I can't say how I feel. I appreciate the honor,
but Russia is so far away, and my father----"
"Yes, I know," General Alexis interrupted. "Do you not suppose I have
thought over all those things? Until this war is past I shall not even
ask you to become my wife. My life belongs to my country and I would not
have you alone here in a foreign land. All I ask is that I may write you
and some day in happier times may I come to see my American friend?"
Mildred could only nod and let General Alexis keep tight hold of her
hand, while a sense of the warmth and sweetness of the affection of a
big nature slowly enveloped her.
Then, as they walked back to the sleigh in silence and continued in
silence almost all the way back to the lodgings, Mildred could only keep
thinking how much her father would like General Alexis. Once she smiled,
because her next thought was how immensely pleased and impressed her
mother would be. It seemed impossible that the plain and unattractive
Mildred could have captured so distinguished an admirer.
Late that night, as she lay awake, Nona Davis' voice suddenly broke the
stillness. The two girls were in the single bedroom, Barbara occupying a
lounge in the sitting room.
"There is something I want to tell you, Mildred. The strangest thing
happened to me this afternoon. Lieutenant Orlaff proposed to me. Why, I
scarcely know him at all, but he says that is not necessary when a
foreigner meets an American girl," Nona confided.
"You--why, Nona!" Mildred faltered, too surprised for the moment to
answer intelligently, because her friend's speech so oddly fitted into
her own thoughts. "Did you accept him?"
It was dark in the room, and yet Mildred could see that Nona had risen
half way up in bed.
"My gracious, no!" she ejaculated. "In the first place, I don't care
for him at all, and in the second, I just want to get hold of my dear
Sonya and return home to the United States. If your general does have
her pardoned I shall say prayers for him every night of my life. Funny,
but I believe I am afraid of Russia, even though I am half Russian.
Still, my mother did prefer to come to America to live. I simply
couldn't bear living in Russia always, could you, Mildred?" Nona ended,
as she again dropped back on her pillow.
But Mildred only answered, "I don't know," which was not in the least
conclusive.