LOVE OR COMRADESHIP?
"I knew thou wouldst come," she said in French, as he caught those
outstretched hands in his.
She looked pale and worn, as was natural,--but lovelier than ever, as
she stood, a shadowy figure in her dark gown against the gloom behind
her, for there was no light within the synagogue. The lurid glare from
without shed an unearthly radiance on her white face and shining hair.
"I am not alone," he said. "Maurice Wynn is with me; and the good Mishka
and his father."
She glanced at me doubtfully, and then held out her hand, flashing at me
the ghost of her old arch smile.
"It is Maurice, indeed; how the beard has changed you,--and the uniform!
I did not know you," she said, still in French. "But come; there is
still much to do, and we must be gone before daylight. How did you drive
them off? Will they make another attack?" she asked, turning to Loris.
"I think not; they have had enough for one time. You must thank Mishka
here for putting them to the rout," he answered. "Ah, Stepan, you are
here also, as I expected," he added to a young man of about my own age,
whom I guessed to be Anne's cousin, Count Vassilitzi, from the strong
likeness between them, though his hair was much darker than hers, and he
wore a small mustache.
[Illustration: _"I knew thou wouldst come," she said._ Page 268]
What passed in the synagogue both before and after we came, I only
learned later; for Mishka and I were posted on guard at the entrance of
the square, while Pavloff went off to seek our horses and intercept the
men who were following us. If he met them in time, they would make a
_detour_ round the town and wait for us to join them on the further
side.
Our sentry-go business proved an unnecessary precaution, for no more
rioters appeared; the excitement in the town was evidently dying out,
the _pogrom_ was over,--for the time.
Some of the bolder spirits among the Jews came from the synagogue,
exchanging pious ejaculations of thanks to God for their deliverance.
They slunk furtively by us; though one venerable-looking old man paused
and invoked what sounded like a blessing on us,--in Hebrew, I think.
"You can keep all that for the gracious lady," growled Mishka. "It is to
her you owe your present deliverance."
"It is, indeed," he answered in Russian. "The God of our fathers will
bless her,--yea, and she shall be blessed. And He will bless you,
Excellencies,--you and your seed even to the third and fourth
generation, inasmuch that you also have worked His will, and have
delivered His children out of the hands of evil-doers."
Mishka scratched his head and looked sheepish. This blessing seemed to
embarrass him more than any amount of cursing would have done.
"They are harmless folk, these Jews," he grunted. "And they are brave in
their way, although they are forever cringing. See--the old man goes
with the others to try and check the course of the fires. They are like
ants in a disturbed ants' nest. They begin to repair the damage while it
is yet being done. To-morrow, perchance even to-day, they will resume
their business, and will truckle to those who set out to outrage and
murder them this night! That is what makes the Jew unconquerable. But it
is difficult to teach him to fight, even in defence of his women; though
we are doing something in that way among the younger men. They must have
done well to hold out so long."
"How did they get arms?" I asked.
"They have not many so far, but there is one who comes and goes among
them,--one of themselves,--who brings, now a revolver or two, now a
handful of cartridges, now a rifle taken to pieces; always at the risk
of his life, but that to him is less than nothing."
"Yossof!" I exclaimed.
He nodded, but said no more, for Count Vassilitzi came across the square
to us.
"All is quiet?" he asked. "Good. We can do no more, and it is time we
were off. You are Monsieur Wynn? I have heard of you from my cousin. We
must be friends, Monsieur!"
He held out his hand and I gripped it. I'd have known him anywhere for
Anne's kinsman, he was so like her, more like her in manner even than in
looks; that is, like her when she was in a frivolous mood.
There was quite a crowd now on the steps of the synagogue, a crowd of
weeping women--yes, and weeping men, too,--who pressed around Anne,
jostling each other in the attempt to kiss her hands, or even the hem of
her gown.
She looked utterly exhausted, and I saw,--not without a queer pang at
heart,--that Loris had his arm round her, was indeed, rather carrying,
than merely supporting her.
"Let us through, good people," I heard him say. "Remember that her peril
is as great as yours, even greater."
As he spoke, her eyelids drooped, and she swayed back on to his
shoulder. He swung her into his arms as I had seen him do once before,
on that memorable summer night more than three months ago, when I
thought I had looked my last on her; and, as the women gave way before
him, he strode off, carrying his precious burden as easily as if she had
been a little child.
We followed closely, revolvers in hand; but there was no need to use
them. The few streets we traversed on the route Loris took were
deserted; and though the houses on either side were smouldering ruins,
we passed but few corpses, and some of those were Russians. The worst of
the carnage had been in the streets further from the synagogue.
"You came just in time," remarked Vassilitzi. "We were expecting the
door to be burst in or burnt every moment; so we packed the women and
children up into the women's gallery again--we'd been firing from there
till the ammunition was gone--and waited for the end. Most of the Jews
were praying hard; well, I suppose they think their prayers were
efficacious for once."
"Without doubt," I answered. His cynical tone jarred on me, somehow.
"They will need all their prayers," he rejoined, shrugging his
shoulders. "To-night is but a foretaste of what they have to expect. But
perhaps they will now take the hint, and learn to defend themselves;
also they will not have the soldiers to reckon with, if they can hold
out a little longer."
"How's that?" I asked, because he seemed to expect the question; not
because I was particularly interested; my mind was concentrated on those
two in front.
"Why, because the soldiers will be wanted elsewhere, as I think you know
very well, _mon ami_," he laughed. "Well, I for one am glad this little
affair is over. I could do with some breakfast, and you also, eh? Anna
is worn out; she will never spare herself. _Ma foi!_ she is a marvel; I
say that always; and he is another. Now if I tried to do that sort of
thing"--he waved his hand airily towards Loris, tramping steadily along.
"But I should not try; she is no light weight, I give you my word! Still
they make a pretty picture,--eh? What it is to be a giant!"
I'd have liked to shake him, and stop his irresponsible chatter, which
seemed out of place at the moment. I knew he wouldn't have been able to
carry Anne half across the street; he was a little, thin fellow,
scarcely as tall as Anne herself.
But I could have carried her, easily as Loris was doing, if I'd had the
chance and the right.
Yet his was the right; I knew that well, for I had seen the look in her
eyes as she greeted him just now. How could I have been such a conceited
fool as to imagine she loved me, even for a moment! What I had dared to
hope--to think--was love, was nothing of the kind; merely frank
_camaraderie_. It was in that spirit she had welcomed me; calling me
"Maurice," as she had done during the last week or two of her stay at
Mary's; but somehow I felt that though we had met again at last, she was
immeasurably removed from me; and the thought was a bitter one! She
loved me in a way,--yes, as her friend, her good comrade. Well, hadn't I
told myself for months past that I must be content with that?