A few days after there was a brilliant reunion at Princess
Shadursky's. All the beauty and fashion of St. Petersburg were
invited, and few who were invited failed to come. It happened that
Prince Shadursky was an admirer of the fair sex, and also that he had
had the pleasure of meeting the brilliant Baroness von Döring at
Hamburg, and again in Paris. It was, therefore, to be expected that
Baroness von Döring should be found in the midst of an admiring throng
at Princess Shadursky's reception. Her brother, Ian Karozitch, was
also there, suave, alert, dignified, losing no opportunity to make
friends with the distinguished company that thronged the prince's
rooms.
Late in the evening the baroness and her brother might have been seen
engaged in a _tête-à-tête_, seated in two comfortable armchairs, and
anyone who was near enough might have heard the following
conversation:
"How goes it?" Karozitch asked in a low tone.
"As you see, I am making a hit," answered the baroness in the same
quiet tone. But her manner was so detached and indifferent that no one
could have guessed her remark was of the least significance. It should
be noted that this was her first official presentation to St.
Petersburg society. And in truth her beauty, united with her lively
intellect, her amiability, and her perfect taste in dress, had
produced a general and even remarkable effect. People talked about her
and became interested in her, and her first evening won her several
admirers among those well placed in society.
"I have been paying attention to the solid capitalists," replied
Karozitch; "we have made our _début_ in the _rôle_ of practical
actors. Well, what about him?" he continued, indicating Prince
Shadursky with his eyes.
"In the web," she replied, with a subtle smile.
"Then we can soon suck his brains?"
"Soon--but he must be tied tighter first. But we must not talk here."
A moment later Karozitch and the baroness were in the midst of the
brilliant groups of guests.
A few late comers were still arriving. "Count Kallash!" announced the
footman, who stood at the chief entrance to the large hall.
At this new and almost unknown but high-sounding name, many eyes were
turned toward the door through which the newcomer must enter. A hum of
talk spread among the guests:
"Count Kallash----"
"Who is he----?"
"It is a Hungarian name--I think I heard of him somewhere."
"Is this his first appearance?"
"Who is this Kallash? Oh, yes, one of the old Hungarian families----"
"How interesting----"
Such questions and answers crossed each other in a running fire among
the various groups of guests who filled the hall, when a young man
appeared in the doorway.
He lingered a moment to glance round the rooms and the company; then,
as if conscious of the remarks and glances directed toward him, but
completely "ignoring" them, and without the least shyness or
awkwardness, he walked quietly through the hall to the host and
hostess of the evening.
People of experience, accustomed to society and the ways of the great
world, can often decide from the first minute the _rôle_ which anyone
is likely to play among them. People of experience, at the first view
of this young man, at his first entrance, merely by the way he entered
the hall, decided that his _rôle_ in society would be brilliant--that
more than one feminine heart would beat faster for his presence, that
more than one dandy's wrath would be kindled by his successes.
"How handsome he is!" a whisper went round among the ladies. The men
for the most part remained silent. A few twisted the ends of their
mustache and made as though they had not noticed him. This was already
enough to foreshadow a brilliant career.
And indeed Count Kallash could not have passed unnoticed, even among a
thousand young men of his class. Tall and vigorous, wonderfully well
proportioned, he challenged comparison with Antinoüs. His pale face,
tanned by the sun, had an expression almost of weariness. His high
forehead, with clustering black hair and sharply marked brows, bore
the impress of passionate feeling and turbulent thought strongly
repressed. It was difficult to define the color of his deep-set,
somewhat sunken eyes, which now flashed with southern fire, and were
now veiled, so that one seemed to be looking into an abyss. A slight
mustache and pointed beard partly concealed the ironical smile that
played on his passionate lips. The natural grace of good manners and
quiet but admirably cut clothes completed the young man's exterior,
behind which, in spite of all his reticence, could be divined a
haughty and exceptional nature. A more profound psychologist would
have seen in him an obstinately passionate, ungrateful nature, which
takes from others everything it desires, demanding it from them as a
right and without even a nod of acknowledgment. Such was Count
Nicholas Kallash.
A few days after the reception at Prince Shadursky's Baroness von
Döring was installed in a handsome apartment on Mokhovoi Street, at
which her "brother," Ian Karozitch, or, to give him his former name,
Bodlevski, was a frequent visitor. By a "lucky accident" he had met on
the day following the reception our old friend Sergei Antonovitch
Kovroff, the "captain of the Golden Band." Their recognition was
mutual, and, after a more or less faithful recital of the events of
the intervening years, they had entered into an offensive and
defensive alliance.
When Baroness von Döring was comfortably settled in her new quarters,
Sergei Antonovitch brought a visitor to Bodlevski: none other than the
Hungarian nobleman, Count Nicholas Kallash.
"_Gentlemen, you are strangers_; let me introduce you to each other,"
said Kovroff, presenting Count Kallash to Bodlevski.
"Very glad to know you," answered the Hungarian count, to Bodlevski's
astonishment in Russian; "very glad, indeed! I have several times had
the honor of hearing of you. Was it not you who had some trouble about
forged notes in Paris?"
"Oh, no! You are mistaken, dear count!" answered Bodlevski, with a
pleasant smile. "The matter was not of the slightest importance. The
amount was a trifle and I was unwilling even to appear in court!"
"You preferred a little journey to Russia, didn't you?" Kovroff
remarked with a smile.
"Little vexations of that kind may happen to anyone," said Bodlevski,
ignoring Kovroff's interruption. "You yourself, dear count, had some
trouble about some bonds, if I am not mistaken?"
"You are mistaken," the count interrupted him sharply. "I have had
various troubles, but I prefer not to talk about them."
"Gentlemen," interrupted Kovroff, "we did not come here to quarrel,
but to talk business. Our good friend, Count Kallash," he went on,
turning to Bodlevski, "wishes to have the pleasure of cooperating in
our common undertaking, and--I can recommend him very highly."
"Ah!" said Bodlevski, after a searching study of the count's face. "I
understand! the baroness will return in a few minutes and then we can
discuss matters at our leisure."
But in spite of this understanding it was evident that Bodlevski and
Count Kallash had not impressed each other very favorably. This,
however, did not prevent the concert of the powers from working
vigorously together.
X