Nine o'clock on the following day, punctual almost to the minute, found
Browne exchanging greetings with the _concierge_ at the foot of the
stairs, who, by this time, had come to know his face intimately. The
latter informed him that Mademoiselle Petrovitch was at home, but that
Madame Bernstein had gone out some few minutes before. Browne
congratulated himself upon the latter fact, and ran upstairs three
steps at a time. Within four minutes from entering the building
Katherine was in his arms.
"Are you pleased to see me again, darling?" he inquired, after the
first excitement of their meeting had passed away.
"More pleased than I can tell you," she answered; and as she spoke
Browne could see the love-light in her eyes. "Ever since your telegram
arrived yesterday, I have been counting the minutes until I should see
you. It seems like years since you went away, and such long years too!"
What Browne said in reply to this pretty speech, it does not behove me
to set down here. Whatever it was, however, it seemed to give great
satisfaction to the person to whom it was addressed. At length they
sat down together upon the sofa, and Browne told her of the
arrangements he had made. "I did not write to you about them, dear,"
he said, "for the reason that, in a case like this, the less that is
put on paper the better for all parties concerned. Letters may go
astray, and there is no knowing what may happen to them. Therefore I
thought I would keep all my news until I could tell it to you face to
face. Are you ready for your long journey?"
"Yes, we are quite ready," said Katherine. "We are only waiting for
you. Madame has been very busy for the last few days, and so have I."
She mentioned Madame's name with some little trepidation, for she
feared lest the old subject, which had caused them both so much pain on
the last occasion that they had met, might be revived. Browne,
however, was careful, as she was, not to broach it.
"And when will your yacht leave England?" she inquired, after he had
detailed his arrangements to her.
"On Monday next at latest," he answered. "We shall not be very far
behind you."
"Nevertheless it will be a long, long time before I shall see you
again," she continued in a sad tone. "Oh, Jack, Jack, I cannot tell
you how wicked I feel in allowing you to do so much for me. Even now,
at this late hour, I feel I have no right to accept such a sacrifice at
your hands."
"Stop," he replied, holding up his finger in warning. "I thought we
had agreed that nothing more should be said about it."
At this juncture there was the sound of a footstep in the passage
outside, and a few seconds later Madame Bernstein entered the room. On
seeing Browne she hastened forward, and greeted him with all the
effusiveness of which she was mistress. "Ah, Monsieur Browne," she
said, "now that I see you my courage returns. As Katherine has
doubtless told you, everything is prepared, and we are ready to start
for Marseilles as soon as you give the order. Katherine is looking
forward to the voyage; but as for me---- Ah! I do hate the sea more
than anything in the world. That nasty little strip of salt water
which divides England from France is a continual nightmare to me, and I
never cross it without hoping it may be the last time."
Browne tried to comfort her by telling her of the size of the vessel in
which they were to travel, and assured her that, even if she should be
ill, by the time they were out of the Mediterranean she would have
recovered. Seeing that no other consolation was forthcoming, Madame
was compelled to be content with this poor comfort.
Though Browne had already breakfasted in the solid, substantial English
fashion, he was only too glad to persuade Madame Bernstein and his
sweetheart to partake of _dejeuner_ at one of the famous cafes on the
Boulevards. After the meal Madame returned to the Rue Jacquarie in
order to finish a little packing, which she had left to the last
moment; while Browne, who had been looking forward to this opportunity,
assumed possession of Katharine, and carried her to one of the large
shops in the Rue de la Paix, where he purchased for her the best
dressing-bag ever obtained for love or money; to which he added a set
of sables that would have turned even Russian Royalty green with envy.
Never had his money seemed so useful to Browne. These commissions
executed, they returned to the Rue Jacquarie, where they found Madame
Bernstein ready for the journey. The express was due to leave Paris
for Marseilles at 2.15 p.m. Twenty minutes before that hour a cab
drove up to the door, and in it Browne placed Madame Bernstein and
Katherine, following them himself. Wonderful is the power of a gift!
Browne carried the bag, he had given Katherine that morning, down to
the cab with his own hands, and without being asked to do so, placed it
on the seat beside her. He noticed that her right hand went out to
take it, and held it lovingly until they reached the station, where she
surrendered it to him again.
When they made their appearance on the platform an official hurried
forward to meet them, and conducted them forthwith to the special
saloon carriage Browne had bespoken for their use that morning. As she
stepped into it Katherine gave a little grateful glance at her lover to
show that she appreciated his generosity. Poor as she had always been,
she found it hard to realize what his wealth meant. And yet there were
many little signs to give her evidence of the fact--the obsequious
railway officials; his own majestic English servant, who brought them a
sheaf of papers without being instructed to do so; and last, but by no
means least, the very railway carriage itself, which was of the most
luxurious description. On Madame Bernstein entering the compartment
she placed herself in a corner, arranged her travelling-rug, her
smelling-salts, her papers, and her fan to her satisfaction; and by the
time she had settled down the journey had commenced. The train was an
express, and did not stop until it reached Laroche at 4.40. Here
afternoon tea was procured for the ladies; while on reaching Dijon, two
hours and a half later, it was discovered that an unusually luxurious
dinner had been ordered by telegraph, and was served in the second
compartment of the carriage. Having done justice to it, they
afterwards settled themselves down for the night. It is a very
significant fact that when Browne looks back upon that journey now, the
one most important fact, that strikes his memory, is that Madame
Bernstein fell asleep a little after eight o'clock, and remained so
until they had passed Pontanevaux. During the time she slept, Browne
was able to have a little private conversation with Katherine; and
whatever trouble he had taken to ensure the journey being a successful
one, he was amply compensated for it. At ten o'clock the polite
conductor begged permission to inform mesdames and monsieur that their
sleeping apartments were prepared for them. Browne accordingly bade
the ladies good-night.
As the young man lay in his sleeping compartment that night, and the
train made its way across France towards its most important sea-port,
Browne's dreams were of many things. At one moment he was back in the
Opera House at Covent Garden, listening to _Lohengrin_, and watching
Katherine's face as each successive singer appeared upon the stage.
Then, as if by magic, the scene changed, and he was on the windy
mountain-side at Merok, and Katherine was looking up at him from her
place of deadly peril a few feet below. He reached down and tried to
save her, but it appeared to be a question of length of arm, and his
was a foot too short. "Pray allow me to help you," said Maas; and
being only too grateful for any assistance, Browne permitted him to do
so. They accordingly caught her by the hands and began to pull. Then
suddenly, without any warning, Maas struck him a terrible blow upon the
head; both holds were instantly loosed, and Katherine was in the act of
falling over the precipice when Browne awoke. Great beads of
perspiration stood upon his forehead, and, under the influence of this
fright, he trembled as he did not remember ever to have done in his
life before. For upwards of an hour he lay awake, listening to the
rhythm of the wheels and the thousand and one noises that a train makes
at night. Then once more he fell asleep, and, as before, dreamt of
Katherine. Equally strange was it that on this occasion also Maas was
destined to prove his adversary. They were in Japan now, and the scene
was a garden in which the Wistaria bloomed luxuriously. Katherine was
standing on a rustic bridge, looking down into the water below, and
Maas was beside her. Suddenly the bridge gave way, and the girl was
precipitated into the water. Though she was drowning, he noticed that
Maas did nothing to help her, but stood upon what remained of the
bridge and taunted her with the knowledge that, if she were drowned,
her mission to the East would be useless. After this no further sleep
was possible. At break of day he accordingly rose and dressed himself.
They were passing through the little town of Saint-Chamas at the time.
It was a lovely morning; not a cloud in the sky, and all the air and
country redolent of life and beauty. It was a day upon which a man
might be thankful for the right to live and love. Yet Browne was sad
at heart. Was he not about to part from the woman he loved for nearly
two whole months? Brave though he was in most things, it must be
confessed he feared that separation, as a confirmed coward fears a
blow. But still the train flew remorselessly on, bringing them every
moment nearer and nearer their destination.
When they reached it they drove direct to an hotel. Here they
breakfasted, and afterwards made their way to the steamer. Browne's
heart was sinking lower and lower, for never before had Katherine
seemed so sweet and so desirable. Once on board the vessel they called
a steward to their assistance, and the two ladies were shown to their
cabins. As they afterwards found out, they were the best that Browne
could secure, were situated amidships, and were really intended each to
accommodate four passengers. While they were examining them Browne
hunted out the chief steward, and the stewards who would be likely to
wait upon his friends. These he rewarded in such a way that, if the
men only acted up to their protestations, the remainder of the
passengers would have very good cause to complain. Having finished
this work of bribery and corruption, he went in search of the ladies,
only to be informed by the stewardess that they had left their cabins
and had gone on deck. He accordingly made his way up the
companion-ladder, and found them standing beside the smoking-room
entrance.
"I hope you found your cabins comfortable," he said. "I have just seen
the chief steward, and he has promised that everything possible shall
be done to make you enjoy your voyage."
"How good you are!" said Katherine in a low voice, and with a little
squeeze of his hand; while Madame protested that, if it were possible
for anything to reconcile her to the sea, it would be Monsieur Browne's
kindness. Then the warning whistle sounded for non-passengers to leave
the ship. Madame Bernstein took the hint, and, having bade him
good-bye, made her way along the deck towards the companion-ladder,
leaving the lovers together. Katherine's eyes had filled with tears
and she had grown visibly paler. Now that the time had come for
parting with the man she loved, she had discovered how much he was to
her.
"Katherine," said Browne, in a voice that was hoarse with suppressed
emotion, "do you know now how much I love you?"
"You love me more than I deserve," she said. "I shall never be able to
repay you for all you have done for me."
"I want no repayment but your love," he answered.
"Si vous n'etes pas un voyageur, m'sieu, ayez l'obligeance de
debarquer," said a gruff voice in his ear.
Seeing that there was nothing left but to say good-bye, Browne kissed
Katherine, and, unable to bear any more, made for the gangway. Five
minutes later the great ship was under way, and Katherine had embarked
upon her voyage to the East.