THE DESERTED HUNTING LODGE
Our own horses were already at the appointed place, together with
Pavloff and the Duke's little band of "recruits;" sturdy young _moujiks_
these, as I saw now by the gray light of dawn, cleaner and more
intelligent-looking than most of their class.
They were freshly horsed, for they had taken advantage of the confusion
in the town to "commandeer" re-mounts,--as they say in South Africa.
There were horses for Anne, and her cousin, too. Pavloff, like his son,
was a man who forgot nothing.
Anne had already revived from the faintness that overcame her on the
steps of the synagogue. I had heard her talking to Loris, as we came
along; more than once she declared she was quite able to walk, but he
only shook his head and strode on.
He set her down now, and seemed to be demurring about her horse. I heard
her laugh,--how well I knew that laugh!--though I had already swung
myself into the saddle and edged a little away.
"It is not the first time I have had to ride thus. Look you, Maurice, it
goes well enough, does it not?" she said, riding towards me.
I had to look round at that.
She was mounted astride, as I've seen girls ride in the Western States.
She had slipped off the skirt of her dark riding-habit, and flung it
over her right arm; and was sitting square in her saddle, her long coat
reaching to the tops of her high riding-boots.
I felt a lump come to my throat as I looked at the gallant, graceful
figure, at the small proud head with its wealth of bright hair gleaming
under the little astrachan cap that she wore, at the white face with its
brave smile.
I knew well that she was all but dead-beat, and that she only laughed
lest she might weep, or faint again.
"It goes well indeed, _capitaine_," I answered, with a military salute.
Pavloff, still on foot, came forward and stood beside her, speaking in a
low growl; he was an elder edition of his son Mishka.
She listened, looking down at him gravely and kindly. I could not take
my eyes from her face, so dear and familiar, and yet in one way so
changed. I guessed wherein the change lay. When I had known her before
she had only been playing a part, posing as a lovely, light-hearted,
capriciously coquettish girl, without a real care in the world. But now
I saw her without the mask, knew her for what she was, the woman who was
devoting her youth, her beauty, her brilliant talents, to a great
cause,--a well-nigh hopeless one,--and I loved her more than ever, with
a passionate fervor that, I honestly declare, had no taint of
selfishness in it. From that moment I told myself that it was enough for
me merely to be near her, to serve her, shield her perhaps, and count,
as a rich reward, every chance word or thought or smile she might bestow
on me.
"Yes, it is well; your duty lies there," I heard her say. "God be with
you, old friend; and farewell!"
She slipped her right hand out of its loose leather glove, and held it
out to him.
When I first saw her at Chelsea, I had decided that hers were the most
beautiful hands in the world, not small, but exquisitely shaped,--hands
that, in their graceful movements, somehow seemed to convey a subtle
idea of power and versatility. She never wore rings. I remembered how
Mary once remarked on this peculiarity, and Anne had answered that she
did not care for them.
"But you've quite a lot in your jewel case, lovely old ones; you ought
to wear them, Anne," Mary protested, and Anne's eyes had darkened as
they always did in moments of emotion.
"They were my mother's. Father gave them me years ago, and I always
carry them about with me; but I never wear them," she said quietly.
The remembrance of this little episode flashed through my mind as I saw
her hold out her ringless hand,--begrimed now with dirt and smoke, with
a purple mark like a bruise between the thumb and first finger, that
showed me she had been one of the firing party.
Pavloff bared his shaggy head, and bent over the hand as if it had been
that of an empress; then moved away and went plump on his knees before
Loris.
"Where is he going?" I asked Anne, ranging my horse alongside.
"Back to his work, like the good man he is," she said, her eyes fixed on
Loris, who had raised the old steward and was speaking to him rapidly
and affectionately. "He came thus far lest we should have need of him;
perhaps also because he would say farewell to me,--since we shall not
meet again. But now he will return and continue his duty at Zostrov as
long as he is permitted to do so. That may not be long,--but still his
post is there."
"They will murder him, as some of them tried to murder the Duke last
night," I said. "You have heard of the explosion?"
She nodded, but made no comment, and, as Pavloff mounted and rode off
alone, Loris also mounted and joined us with Vassilitzi, and the four of
us started at a hand-gallop, a little ahead of the others. Loris rode on
Anne's right hand, I on her left, and I noticed, as I glanced at her
from time to time, how weary and wistful her face was, when the
transient smile had vanished; how wide and sombre the eyes that, as I
knew of old, changed with every mood, so that one could never determine
their color; at one moment a sparkling hazel, at another--as now--dark
and mysterious as the sky on a starless night.
The last part of our route lay through thick woods, where the cold light
of the dawn barely penetrated as yet, though the foliage was thin
overhead, and the autumn leaves made a soft carpet on which our horses'
hoofs fell almost without a sound.
We seemed to move like a troop of shadows through that ghostly twilight.
One could imagine it an enchanted forest, like those of our nursery
tales, with evil things stirring in the brakes all about us, and
watching us unseen. Once there came a long-drawn wail from near at hand;
and a big wolf, homing to his lair at the dawning, trotted across the
track just ahead, and bared his fangs in a snarl before he vanished. A
few minutes later another sound rang weirdly above the stealthy
whispers of the forest,--the scream of some creature in mortal fear and
pain.
"That is a horse that the wolves are after--or they've got him!"
exclaimed Vassilitzi. He and I were leading now, for the track was only
wide enough for two to ride abreast. We quickened our pace, though we
were going at a smart trot, and as a second scream reached our ears,
ending abruptly in a queer gurgle, we saw in front a shapeless heap,
from which two shadowy forms started up growling, but turned tail and
vanished, as the other wolf had done, as we galloped towards them.
The fallen horse was a shaggy country nag, with a rope bridle and no
saddle. The wolves had fastened on his throat, but he was not yet dead,
and as I jumped down and stood over him he made a last convulsive effort
to rise, glaring at me piteously with his blood-flecked eyes. We saw
then that his fore-leg was broken, and I decided the best thing to do
was to put the beast out of his misery. So I did it right then with a
shot in his ear.
"He has been ridden hard; he was just about spent when he stumbled on
that fallen trunk and fell, and that was some time since," said
Vassilitzi, looking critically at the quivering, sweat-drenched carcase.
"Now, what does it mean? If the wolves had chased him,--and they are not
so bold now as in the winter,--they would have had him down before, and
his rider too; but they had only just found him."
He stared ahead and shrugged his shoulders with the air of a man who
dismisses an unimportant question to which he cannot find a ready
answer.
The others caught up with us as I got into my saddle again, and we made
no delay, as the incident was not of sufficient moment.
We passed one or two huts, that appeared to be uninhabited, and came at
last to the open, or rather to a space of a few hundred acres, ringed
round by the forest, and saw in the centre of the clearing a low,
rambling old house of stone, enclosed with a high wall, and near the
tall gateway a few scattered wooden huts.
Some fowls and pigs were straying about, and a few dejected looking cows
and a couple of horses were grazing near at hand; but there was no sign
of human life.
"_Diable!_ Where are they all?" exclaimed Vassilitzi, frowning and
biting his mustache.
"What place is this?" I asked him.
"Mine. It was a hunting lodge once; now it represents all
my--our--possessions. But where are the people?"
He rode to the nearest hut, kicked open the crazy door, and shouted
imperatively; but there was no reply. The whole place was deserted.
Thence to the gateway, with its solid oak doors. He jumped down and
tried them, petulantly muttering what certainly sounded like a string of
oaths. But they were locked and barred.
The others rode up, Anne and Loris first, the men straggling after.
Anne was swaying in her saddle; her face was ashy pale. I think she
would have fallen but that Loris steadied her with his arm.
"What now?" she gasped. "There has been no fighting;" she glanced wildly
around, "and yet--where are they all? We left twenty to guard her,
within, besides these others." She stretched her hand towards the empty
huts.
"Give the signal!" she continued, turning to Loris. "If there are any
within they will answer that!"
He drew his revolver and fired five shots in the air; while we all sat,
staring at him, and wondering what would happen next; at least that was
what I was wondering. The silence was so uncanny!