_A MYRTLE LEAF._
“What do you think, Signor?” asked the count, after a short pause. “Was
it a dream, or did I really see the spirit of my grandfather?”
“It was his spirit,” answered his companion.
“What did his words mean, and why did he not finish them?”
“Would you like to know?”
“Of course.”
“Some one disturbed him.”
“But who?” asked Pavel, continuing to walk along the deserted river
side.
“The apparition disappeared at my approach. I was just leaving at that
time your banker, Sutherland. You did not notice me, but I saw you
both, and I involuntarily startled the apparition of the great man.”
The count stopped; he was amused, and at the same time indignant at the
impudence of the magician, and yet there remained something more to be
learnt.
“You are joking,” said he. “How is it you were in Petersburg, and no
one heard anything of it?”
“I had that pleasure--but for a very short time. I was received in a
very unfriendly manner. As a foreigner, and one fond of knowledge, I
had expected to obtain more attention. But the first minister offended
me deeply; he invited me to leave the country. I withdrew my money from
the bankers, and that very same night left Petersburg.”
“Fool, jackanapes!” thought the count, contemptuously smiling; “what
inventions, what yarns he can spin.”
“Allow me to offer my apologies for the rudeness of our ministers,”
said the count, with the most elaborate politeness, slightly touching
his hat with his hand. “But can you explain to me the meaning of the
words of the apparition?”
“It would be better not to seek to know the meaning of the apparition,”
answered the stranger. “There are things … on which it is better to let
the Fates be silent.…”
At that moment the sounds of a lute came floating from the great
lagoon. Some one seated in a gondola was singing. Pavel eagerly
listened; it was his favourite hymn. It brought back to his
recollection the Manor of Pavlovski, the musical mornings at
Nelidova’s, and her intercession for Rakitina.
“Very well,” said he; “let it be so; the future will reveal the truth.
But I have another favour to ask of you.… A certain person, whom I wish
from my whole heart to help at any cost, would very much like to know
one thing.”
“I shall be most happy,” answered the stranger; “if I can be of any use
to your Highness.”
“A certain person,” continued the count, “begged me to make inquiries
here in Italy, in Spain, and in general, of seamen, if a certain
naval officer is still living. He was on that ship which was totally
shipwrecked, five years ago, and of which literally nothing has been
heard.”
“A Russian ship?”
“Yes.”
“It was carried away, and dashed to pieces by the storm in the ocean,
not far from Africa?”
“Yes.”
“The _Northern Eagle_?”
“Yes, but how came you to know?”
“It’s not in vain I’m called an Enchanter.”
“Speak! make haste, was he saved? is he still alive, this officer?”
said the count, impatiently.
At that moment they were both standing on the water side. The silvery
waves gently rippled up to the stone steps. In the distance, in the
dim twilight, the outline of a ship with her sails furled was just
discernible.
“To-morrow,” said the stranger, “I leave Venice on that schooner; but
before sailing, or answering your question, I should like--excuse
me--to know … whether the Count du Nord, on ascending the throne, will
be more indulgent to me than the ministers of his august parent? Will
he allow me then to visit that country again, whatever the tenor of my
answer concerning that naval officer?”
The deep agitation which Pavel had experienced, on relating his
adventure with the apparition, had already subsided, and he was
regaining his self-composure. The question of the man aroused his
indignation.
“Impudent, audacious impostor,” thought he, in a fit of suspicious
anger. “What insolence! and what a turn he has given to the
conversation. Street acrobat! charlatan!…”
Pavel could scarcely contain himself, and crushed his glove in his hand.
“According to your own words it is rather difficult to answer for the
future,” said he thoughtfully, after a short pause. “Nevertheless, I
am convinced, that on a second journey to Russia, you will meet with a
reception more polite and more befitting a foreigner.”
His interlocutor bowed profoundly.
“So you wish to know the fate of that naval officer?” he said.
“Yes,” answered Pavel, prepared, however, to hear some tomfoolery, some
imposture.
“Send that certain person awaiting your news a myrtle leaf.”
“How? what did you say? Say it again,” cried out Pavel. “Myrtle!
myrtle? then he is lost.…”
“He was saved on a fragment of the ship near the island of Teneriffe,
and for some time remained with the poor monks of the coast.”
“And now? oh! speak, I implore you.”
“A year after he was killed by pirates, who pillaged the monastery
where he was living.”
“How did you learn all this?”
“At that time I was myself living on the isle of Teneriffe,” he
answered. “I was copying an old Latin manuscript, which was very
precious to me, from the archives of the monastery.”
“But what does all this mean? Is he only a juggler, or an all-powerful
seer?” thought Pavel, torn with doubts. “A clever diviner, or a bold
charlatan, but from where?… All my most secret … coast of Africa …
the name of the lost ship … and then that token, the fatal myrtle. Is
it possible Ekaterina Ivanovna should have betrayed me? But he never
saw her; she is ill, has never been once out of her room, received no
visits, and has been nowhere.…”
Pavel wanted to say something else, but could find no words.
Beyond the schooner the dawn was breaking.
“I will accompany your Highness to the palace,” said the stranger with
elaborate politeness and a cringing bow; “have I your permission?”
Pavel slightly glanced at the tawdry cotton-velvet bespangled costume
of the wizard, looking so shabby in the morning light, and taking off
his mask, without saying one word more, strode gloomily and proudly
along the deserted shore.
“Poor sorrowing Penelope! unfortunate lovely Irena!” thought he. “No
one has been able to solve that anguishful enigma--neither ministers,
nor knights, nor ambassadors; let us send her the myrtle leaf of the
Italian wizard and juggler.”