PAUL HEARS GOOD TIDINGS.
The very day upon which the Winters woman called on Ouida, in her
unsuccessful attempt to secure an interview, Paul Strogoff, the model,
paid a visit to the office of Edward Salmon, the shrewd and wily
lawyer.
The young Russian gazed with awe on the great array of books and files,
and wondered what could possibly have been the reason why any lawyer
should have requested his presence.
After a while he was ushered into the presence of Mr. Salmon, and stood
rather fearingly waiting for what was coming. He was rather like a dog
at bay. He had had such an amount of silent agony throughout his life,
that he was in that passive frame of subjected mind, that he was ready
for and could bear almost anything.
“Take a seat, sir,” said Mr. Salmon.
Paul dropped into the first chair, and still spoke not.
“I am a lawyer, sir,” said Mr. Salmon.
“So I saw by your letter head; but how does that concern me? I have no
lawsuits.”
“That may be true, but strange things come to us at times.”
“True,” said Paul, growing somewhat restless, “why have you sent for
me?”
“Before I can entirely tell you, I must ask a few questions, to which I
must have frank and truthful answers.”
“Having nothing at stake,” said Paul, “I have no inducement to lie.”
“You are a Russian by birth?”
“I am.”
“Your father abandoned you in this city years ago, returned to Russia,
and you have not heard from him since?”
Paul jumped up. “How do you know all this?”
“Sit down and calm yourself,” soothingly said the man of law. “I mean
you naught but good.”
“Well, go on,” said the impatient fellow.
“He returned to his native land in the hope of recovering his ancestral
estates, and was grievously disappointed, tricked and hounded for
years. At last he won the great battle, and died.
“I suppose I should weep,” said Paul, “but I am no hypocrite. I cannot
forget these years of cruel abandonment and misery.”
“But,” said the lawyer, by way of consolation, “your future is full of
promise and brilliance. There is absolutely not a single obstacle in
the way of your complete enjoyment of a noble name and wealth.”
“That may be true,” said Paul. “Fate has played him a scurvy trick to
my advantage, but I have become bitter, my heart is sour with evil
neglect. I have known starvation of body and soul; I have craved love,
sympathy, affection, and only a dog licked my hand. Nothing can move
me.”
“I don’t blame you, my boy, but your future is more than bright.”
“A new experience for me,” said Paul, who already felt as though a
burden had been dropped upon his young life.
“There are many complications likely to arise, in which you will need
legal advice. May I consider myself retained in your behalf?”
“I don’t know anything about these things,” said Paul, “but do for me
whatever is necessary.”
“By the way,” said Salmon, looking at Paul shrewdly, “perhaps you need
an advance of money. If so, I can supply you.”
Paul laughed. “Me, money? Why, man, I have learned the lesson of
starvation so thoroughly that I need nothing.”
“You are a happy philosopher,” said the lawyer, and with a wave of the
hand the interview ended.
Paul departed in a more than reflective mood.