Count Kallash and his sister had just breakfasted when the count's
French footman entered the study.
"Madame la baronne von Döring!" he announced obsequiously.
Brother and sister exchanged a rapid glance.
"Now is our opportunity to make sure," said Kallash, with a smile.
"If it is she, I shall recognize her by her voice," whispered Princess
Anna. "Shall I remain here or go?"
"Remain in the meantime; it will be a curious experience. _Faites
entrer_!" he added to the footman.
A moment later light, rapid footsteps were heard in the entrance hall,
and the rustling of a silk skirt.
"How do you do, count! I have come to see you for a moment. I came in
all haste, on purpose. I have come _in person_, you must be duly
appreciative! Vladislav is too busy, and the matter is an important
one. I wanted to see you at the earliest opportunity. Well, we may all
congratulate ourselves. Fate and fortune are decidedly on our side!"
said the baroness, speaking rapidly, as she entered the count's study.
"What has happened? What is the news?" asked the count, going forward
to meet her.
"We have learned that the Shadurskys have just received a large sum of
money; they have sold an estate, and the purchaser has paid them in
cash. Our opportunity has come. Heaven forbid that we should lose it!
We must devise a plan to make the most of it."
The baroness suddenly stopped short in the middle of the sentence, and
became greatly confused, noticing that there was a third person
present.
"Forgive me! I did not give you warning," said the count, shrugging
his shoulders and smiling; "permit me! _Princess Anna Chechevinski!_"
he continued with emphasis, indicating his poor, decrepit sister. "Of
course you would not have recognized her, baroness."
"But _I_ recognized Natasha immediately," said the old woman quietly,
her eyes still fixed on Natasha's face.
The baroness suddenly turned as white as a sheet, and with trembling
hands caught the back of a heavy armchair.
Kallash with extreme politeness assisted her to a seat.
"You didn't expect to meet me, Natasha?" said the old woman gently and
almost caressingly, approaching her.
"I do not know you. Who are you?" the baroness managed to whisper, by
a supreme effort.
"No wonder; I am so changed," replied Princess Anna. "But _you_ are
just the same. There is hardly any change at all."
Natasha began to recover her composure.
"I don't understand you," she said coldly, contracting her brows.
"But I understand _you_ perfectly."
"Allow me, princess," Kallash interrupted her, "permit me to have an
explanation with the baroness; she and I know each other well. And if
you will pardon me, I shall ask you in the meantime to withdraw."
And he courteously conducted his sister to the massive oak doors,
which closed solidly after her.
"What does this mean?" said the baroness, rising angrily, her gray
eyes flashing at the count from under her broad brows.
"A coincidence," answered Kallash, shrugging his shoulders with an
ironical smile.
"How a coincidence? Speak clearly!"
"The former mistress has recognized her former maid--that is all."
"How does this woman come to be here? Who is she?"
"I have told you already; Princess Anna Chechevinski. And as to how
she came here, that was also a coincidence, and a strange one."
"Impossible!" exclaimed the baroness.
"Why impossible? They say the dead sometimes return from the tomb, and
the princess is still alive. And why should the matter not have
happened thus, for instance? Princess Anna Chechevinski's maid Natasha
took advantage of the confidence and illness of the elder princess to
steal from her strong box, with the aid of her sweetheart, Kasimir
Bodlevski, money and securities--mark this, baroness--securities in
the name of Princess Anna. And might it not happen that this same
lithographer Bodlevski should get false passports at the Cave, for
himself and his sweetheart, and flee with her across the frontier, and
might not this same maid, twenty years later, return to Russia under
the name of Baroness von Döring? You must admit that there is nothing
fantastic in all this! What is the use of concealing? You see I know
everything!"
"And what follows from all this?" replied the baroness with a forced
smile of contempt.
"Much _may_ follow from it," significantly but quietly replied
Kallash. "But at present the only important matter is, that I know
all. I repeat it--_all_."
"Where are your facts?" asked the baroness.
"Facts? Hm!" laughed Kallash. "If facts are needed, they will be
forthcoming. Believe me, dear baroness, that if I had not legally
sufficient facts in my hands, I would not have spoken to you of this."
Kallash lied, but lied with the most complete appearance of
probability.
The baroness again grew confused and turned white.
"Where are your facts? Put them in my hands!" she said at last, after
a prolonged silence.
"Oh, this is too much! Get hold of them yourself!" the count replied,
with the same smile. "The facts are generally set forth to the
prisoner by the court; but it is enough for you in the meantime to
know that the facts exist, and that they are in my possession.
Believe, if you wish. If you do not wish, do not believe. I will
neither persuade you nor dissuade you."
"And this means that I am in your power? she said slowly, raising her
piercing glance to his face.
"Yes; it means that you are in my power," quietly and confidently
answered Count Kallash.
"But you forget that you and I are in the same boat."
"You mean that I am a sharper, like you and Bodlevski? Well, you are
right. We are all berries of the same bunch--except _her_" (and he
indicated the folding doors). "She, thanks to many things, has tasted
misery, but she is honest. But we are all rascals, and I first of all.
You are perfectly right in that. If you wish to get me in your
power--try to find some facts against me. Then we shall be quits!"
"And what is it you wish?"
"It is too late for justice, at least so far as she is concerned,"
replied the count, with a touch of sadness; "but it is not too late
for a measure of reparation. But we can discuss that later," he went
on more lightly, as if throwing aside the heavy impression produced by
the thought of Princess Anna's misery. "And now, dear baroness, let us
return to business, the business of Prince Shadursky! I will think the
matter over, and see whether anything suggests itself."
He courteously conducted the baroness to the carriage, and they
parted, to all appearance, friends. But there were dangerous elements
for both in that seeming friendship.