"No messenger yet, and it's nine o'clock. Mary, can't you see a boat
on the water?"
"Nothing at all."
"Have you sent Ali on to the roof to look out?"
"Ali's been up there since seven."
"Mary, tell them to saddle my horse. I'll go myself..."
"But suppose they take the water-way?"
"You're right. Oh my God, this waiting!..."
When Diana had let Gregor out by the garden gate in the chilly hour
before sunrise, she had said in her heart: "Never again. You will
see him no more." It was only by exercising supreme control that she
had been able to give him a parting look of encouragement and
comfort. But as she stood once more on the balcony watching the day
emerge in rain from beyond the grey horizon of the sea, her hopes
revived: "Was he not always the lucky one?" To which an inner voice
replied: "No, he was lonely."--"But does not the world spirit need
him more than it does Andreas?"--"Who can tell?"--"Andreas is young;
maybe the soul of a genius slumbers within him."--"And even so, what
does a bullet care?"
Half past nine. Ali calls out that he sees a little cloud of dust in
the distance; then a rider. Diana hastens up to the roof. She may
perhaps be able to guess the news by the rider--Felix? Kopp? A
servant?---- The prince! Gregor is dead! Only on Gregor's account
would the prince be the messenger---- In any other case it would be
Felix....
Yet might it not mean that both had been wounded? Over and over
again the words were hammered out by her pulsating heart. Groping
blindly she again found herself in the hall. "What am I hoping for?
What am I still afraid of? Mary! Mary, go to meet him.--No, Mary,
stay, don't go.--Ali, open the door." Forcibly she kept herself in
the hall, waiting. The prince approached. He bit his lips. Diana
dared not put the question that tortured her. At last, as if Diana
were concerned with one only of the two duellists, he said:
"A bullet in the heart, at the second shot. Eight minutes later, he
was dead."
Slowly Diana turned away, and leaned against a pillar. For a while
she remained thus, saying nothing. Certainty, even of the worst,
brought peace, of a kind; and yet her whole being seemed dumb and
void. A painful clarity of vision made her aware of every detail in
the material world, and she saw the little steamers plying up and
down on the waters. "Ah yes, the nine o'clock boat. Late again,"
she thought.
Now she turned to her guest.
"You are hot with your ride," said she. "It is very good of you to
have come yourself.... His household is probably... Who told the
countess? You?"
The prince nodded. She begged him to be seated, herself took a
chair, crossing her legs in her short serge skirt.
Again she was speaking: "Olivia has much strength of character, and
has probably been just as anxious on the poet's behalf...."
He thought: "She's steeling herself by speaking of others. Does she
feel it deeply?"
He rose to go.
"Already?"
"Sorry, but I'm afraid I must. There's much to do. We have to
discuss the funeral arrangements. We may have to take his remains
back to Germany."
"Of course---- But--did the count say anything--?"
"Yes, to me. Recommendations as to his successor."
"Winterthur," said Diana quietly.
"Yes," confirmed the prince, realizing how fully Gregor had trusted
this woman. Then he took leave.
But as he reached the door, Eduard turned:
"Forgive me, but I forgot... I have one other thing to tell you--a
message...."
"To me?"
Diana, who knew how reserved Gregor was by nature, was deeply moved
at the thought that her lover had sent her a farewell greeting. The
prince had besought the major to let him come to break the news to
Diana solely on account of this last message. He found it difficult
to speak.
"You will have to judge for yourself. The very last words the count
uttered were: 'My love to the ladies'..."
Diana had listened with dilated eyes; she gripped the back of a
chair; she stood silent. Then she sat down and was about to hide her
face in her hands, when suddenly great tears were coursing down her
cheeks. The prince, uncertain whether he should go or not, took a
step towards the door. But she stayed him with a gesture, and he
brought up a chair and sat down beside her.
Like water purling through a wood, this cool, proud woman's tears
flowed down her face. From afar he had always admired her amazing
self-possession, but even in this moment of her grief he could only
think of Gregor's happy end. He had the melancholy recognition that
he would never be able to woo and win a woman of this kind.
A long time passed before Diana raised her head. With a calm mien
she now looked at her visitor. Then she wiped her eyes, smiled, and
with a complete change of voice, like one who does not wish to
disturb a sleeper's rest, she murmured:
"What a tender thing to have said; only a fully mature man could have
sent such a message. Don't you think so too? I wonder if the
countess will understand? Oh, surely she cannot fail to do so. Tell
her, please tell her Prince, that by these words of a dying man she
and I..."
From the landing-stage came voices, interrupting her whispered plea.
She listened without stirring; the prince did likewise. He would
have given much that nothing should come to trouble her in this, her
hour of weakness and of confiding trust. At last he rose and went on
to the balcony to see who the intruder might be. Simultaneously,
Diana recognized the voice as that of the major.
"What can he be wanting?" she said petulantly.
"Can't think! He knew that I..."
Felix came in; hesitated a moment when he saw how pensive she was;
then he said urgently:
"Forgive me for coming so early. No time to waste. Mademoiselle,
you must go, at once."
Diana, whose heart had expanded under the influence of the dead man's
last words and the noble dignity of her living friend, was refractory
to any interruption, and was especially offended by the major's loud
voice and inopportune intervention. She asked scathingly:
"Go? And why, pray? I have no intention of going."
"Sorry to insist, but the matter is urgent."
Diana got up, tossed her head, pulled her blouse to rights in her
waistband, and said in a changed voice:
"What has happened?"
Felix was wounded by her manner. He assumed an official tone, and
announced, as if he were reading a telegram:
"Just heard, that ministry here, been informed duel on your account.
Foreign secretary wishes to profit by fact that you are temporarily
unprotected to have you arrested as spy. Embassy cannot intervene on
your behalf. Linnartz taken over running of affairs. Advise you to
go at once."
Diana was by now regaining her usual clarity of mind.
"In that case I shall have to go. But I shall need a passport if I
go by rail or passenger steamer, and arrest will be practically
inevitable.... A little boat will be the only way of escape."
Felix nodded, and a twinkle in his eye was an indication of how much
he relished the similarity of her nature and his when there was a
question of having to make a decision or to take a comprehensive
survey of the matter in hand.
"You have immediately grasped the sole possibility. I have already
sent word to old Mohammed...."
"Thoroughly trustworthy fellow, in spite of being an Arab,"
interjected the prince.
"He has two dhows, a big one and a little one."
"We'll take the larger," said Diana promptly.
Felix nodded.
"It'll be ready in half an hour. The farther quay, south of the
commercial harbour. Can you be ready by then?"
"Ready? Of course. Mary must come too."
"Impossible. Too conspicuous."
"Is she to be left to their tender mercies on my account? Mary goes
too--or I stay."
"Very well. We'll do our best. But be quick."
"How are we to evade the port authorities?"
"I'm going with you. I've a free pass. Once through the danger
zone, I'll land."
"Thanks."
She gave him a look full of friendliness, and offered him her hand.
The major stooped over it, and kissed it. A thought crossed her mind.
"What about money? Can I get a cheque through to the bank?"
"Out of the question. They are sure to advise the bank first thing.
Knowing this, I've brought what's necessary. A little bag of gold!
Can't risk a cheque. Where shall I tell him to go?"
"Mohammed will know best.--Mary, your shawl. Bring me my coats.
Yes, all of them, and yours.--Has Mohammed food aboard?"
"Of course--à l'orientale!"
"Good.--Are you coming with us, Prince? We'll drop you at the
bridge. Ali can take your horse back to town."
She disappeared upstairs. Footsteps hurrying overhead, orders.
"Mary, my top boots. No, not those; the brown ones without nails."
Meanwhile she went over to the writing-table, and took three little
packages out of one of the drawers.
"Mary, I'd better have my sword-stick. Not there, next the bed.
Hurry up. No, don't bother about my dresses, they'll have to be left
behind."
She went back into her bedroom, gave a cursory glance round. The
arm-chair caught her eye, the one in which Gregor had sat last night.
She stroked the leather of it; then went over to the sofa and shook
up the cushions. Something fell out as she did so, something violet
in colour. A garter she had hunted for that morning.
"He hid it," she thought. "I wonder when? Quite recently, anyway.
He took it, and hid it."
She put it away in her pocket. Very lightly she ran her finger-tips
over the embroidered bedspread.
"Good-bye," she whispered.
At the door, she turned for a last look.
The two men waited patiently below.
"Pressing danger?" asked the prince as soon as Diana had left the
room.
"In two hours they'll be here."
"But she's not in any way compromised as far as I can see."
"No, but Linnartz is spreading rumours."
"Sure?"
"The first thing he did when he learned of the chief's death was to
give the ministry the tip to clear Mademoiselle out. His pretext:
the duel was on her account. The Linnartz factory has been busy!"
"The man is taking his revenge for something or other, I feel sure,"
exclaimed the prince.
Diana came back, wrapping the packets of letters in a cloth which she
secured in her waistband. Her two friends noted that on her left
side she carried her revolver in its brown leather case. She was
wearing a brown sailcloth cap, had a small field-glass slung over her
shoulder, and flourished an elegant cane in her hand. The major
recognized this last item as a souvenir from Lyons. Felix handed her
the little bag of gold, and she gave him a wire.
"Please have this sent to Herr Scherer. Send it in code. I've left
absolutely nothing in writing behind."
They all three stepped forward towards the landing-stage. Ali and
the other servants were scurrying hither and thither. Mary came,
lugging her paraphernalia. Diana jumped into the boat. As they
pushed off she suddenly fancied Gregor sitting at the helm just as he
had sat so many times during these months coming and going to and
from the little haven. It was the same boat he had used.
"Our own tiny harbour," she thought. "He used to laugh in that spot,
and I with him. Am I to come here a second time?"
The major was worrying: "If only that idiot of a harbourmaster is not
on duty yet. He can't possibly be at his office before eleven."
The prince mused: "Only adventurers are free. We others plod along
our weary way. At the best we allow ourselves to be shot by one of
them."
Towards evening, Diana awoke in the dark and evil-smelling cabin.
She had slept long, dreamlessly, soundly. Mary, who was none too
eager to trust these Arabs, had sat by her side, keeping watch. It
was the voices of men singing at their work on the deck overhead that
had at last roused Diana. She lay quietly for a while, motionless,
silent, her eyes staring. Mary, who knew her mistress's dislike for
being spoken to on waking, held her peace.
"Are we already at sea?"
"A long while ago."
"Will it soon be day?"
"It is going on towards night."
"Night? Have I been asleep since yesterday?"
"No, only since noon today."
"Is the wind in the north?"
"Captain says, north-east."
Diana raised herself on her elbow, and asked in a more vivacious tone:
"The captain? Does he speak Italian?"
"A few words."
"Is he the old man, the handsome old fellow?"
"No, the short one with the grey beard."
"I'm hungry."
"Here's some coffee."
"Aren't there any rusks?"
"Yes, but..."
"Well?"
"We've got to ration ourselves."
"Are you afraid we'll suffer shipwreck?"
"No, but it'll take some time to get to Egypt, and supplies are not
abundant."
"Egypt? Did the captain tell you he was going there?"
"I have not asked him. I just thought that..."
"Why?"
"Because the other day you said you wanted to see the Sphinx again."
Diana laughed. She threw her two arms round the old woman's neck:
"You dear, you remember everything."
Suddenly she swung out of the berth, pulled on her top boots, and
said:
"No, we're not going to Egypt. We'll put in at Athens."
"That's nice, too; it's warm," said Mary.
Diana leaned against the tall mast looking westward through her
glasses. A saffron-coloured mountain thrust up its crest from the
level waters, while the sun, concealed behind a cloud, sent out great
shafts of yellow light in all directions. She dropped the glasses
for a moment and gazed on the scene with the naked eye, then resumed
the glasses once more. Calling over her shoulder, she said:
"É la costa bulgarese--quella?"
"No, Signora. Samothrace."
The captain came up, and pointed to various salient points on the
mainland, telling her the names of these and of the islands.
"How many days will it take if the north-easter holds?"
"We may do it in four days."
"And if the wind changes?"
"Six. Possibly eight."
"Have we enough food on board?"
"I had barely an hour to get in provisions. There's plenty of olives
and bread."
"Where else are we likely to put in?"
"Thasos. Maybe Eubœa also."
"Capable crew?"
"The boy's a new hand. The other three are experienced sailors. No
time to pick and choose."
"When was your dhow last caulked?"
"Three weeks ago."
Diana went forward and examined the little sail; she asked the
captain if he did not think it might be braced up a trifle more. He
nodded, and called the youngster, giving his orders peremptorily in
his native tongue, accompanied as it seemed by a torrent of abuse.
As she now sat on a campstool by the mast, the men resumed their
singing, a monotonous, syncopated melody, accompanied by the deep
moan of the keel cutting through the waters with a note which gave
the impression of a pedal bass. In the pauses of the song she heard
the click-clack of the cordage against the mast. She looked up to
the spot whence the noise came, then her eyes travelled across the
water, while she mused:
"That sound again, wet cords clapping against wood? Evening--the
weather clearing--promise of fine weather tomorrow."
The men's voices rose once more, filling the air with sonorous sound.
"When could it have been?--Two years ago--Azores--when we were
sailing over from Oporto. What a merry party we were. And that
handsome young painter who was so indignant because there was only
one cabin, always full of people. There must have been five of us in
all. What's happened since? Last April, Baveno. I sailed a good
deal there, but mostly alone. A nice little craft, though a trifle
too light. Today? January is nearly out. The ball in the Piazza di
Spagna did not take place until towards the close of the
carnival--nearly a year ago."
The Arab song floated over to her, monotonous, now loud, now soft.
The damp cordage flapped against the mast. The sonorous pedal note
rose from the keel.
"Over the waters I sail; sailing, sailing over the sea. Where are
you now Gregor, my friend, the proud young man with the white hair
over the temples, where are you? At the bottom of this sea? Up
there in the clouds, which cling to the last sunset hues as if they
were loath to let another day go by? Or are you in the wind, blowing
to me from another world, helping me on my course, that I may the
sooner win to safety? Are you angry with me? Had I not come, you
would perhaps not have left Olivia so often alone, and she would
never have yielded to Andreas's love. If I had not left him he would
probably never have come here, would never have called on you, never
have gazed into Olivia's languorous eyes. And if I had not bitten
Linnartz's hand in that hotel room at St. Petersburg, he might not
have been so like a sleuth-hound on your trail. Entrapped! Again
and again the net closes round me. And I who am so in love with
liberty! Am I ever alone? Can I be sure that that young Arab boy
who has just been getting a wigging on my account, does not hate me?
He may have liked me at first; and now he may already be laying his
plans for my undoing, may be contemplating murder. What remains in
the end? Nothing but sorrow and loss."
Mary had gently laid a cloak about Diana's shoulders. Now the young
woman slowly drew a locket from the bosom of her blouse; it had been
one of Gregor's gifts. A slender silver chain; at the end a round,
pale green chrysolite with a motto cut round the margin: Hic et
ubique. She turned the gem in her fingers as she read. On the
reverse side, engraved on a tiny silver disk, was the date of their
first meeting. Very slowly she pressed the spring, and the locket
opened.
A strand of grey hair lay within.