“Ah, you enjoy that much, Sybil, for, like Consuelo, you would have defied the Great Fritz himself.”
“That I would, in spite of a dozen Spondous. Royalty and rank give no one a right to oppress others. A tyrant — even a crowned one — is the most despicable of creatures,” I answered, warmly.
“But you will allow that Porporina was very cold and coy, and altogether provoking, in spite of her genius and virtue,” said the princess, avoiding the word “tyrant,” as the subjects of the czar have a tendency to do.
“She was right, for the humblest mortals should possess their liberty and preserve it at all costs. Golden chains are often heavier than iron ones: is it not so, Mouche?” I asked of the dog, who lay at my feet, vainly trying to rid himself of the new collar which annoyed him.
A sharp “Here, sir!” made him spring to his master, who ordered him to lie down, and put one foot on him to keep him, as he showed signs of deserting again. The prince looked ireful, his black eyes were kindling, and some imperious speech was trembling on his lips, when Claudine entered with the mal-apropos question.
“Does Madame la Princesse desire that I begin to make preparations for the journey?”
“Not yet. Go; I will give orders when it is time,” replied the princess, giving me a glance, which said, “We must speak now.”
“What journey?” demanded the prince, as Claudine vanished precipitately.
“That for which you commanded me to prepare,” returned his sister, with a heavy sigh.
“That is well. You consent, then, without more useless delay?” and the prince’s face cleared as he spoke.
“If you still desire it, after reading this, I shall submit, Alexis,” and giving him the note, his sister waited, with nervous anxiety, for his decision.
As he read I watched him, and saw real concern, surprise, and regret in his face, but when he looked up, it was to ask:
“When did Dr. Segarde give you this, and wherefore?”
“You shall know all, my brother. Mademoiselle sees mv sufferings, pities my unhappiness, and is convinced that it is no whim of mine which makes me dread this return. I implore her to sav this to you, to plead for me, because, with all your love, you cannot know my state as she does. To this prayer of mine she listens, but with a modesty as great as her goodness, she fears that you may think her officious, over-bold, or blinded by regard for me. Therefore she wisely asks for Segardes opinion, sure that it will touch and influence you. Do not destroy her good opinion, nor disappoint thy Nadja!”
The prince was touched, but found it hard to yield, and said, slowly, as he refolded the note, with a glance at me of annoyance not anger:
“So you plot and intrigue against me, ladies! But I have said we shall go, and I never revoke a decree.”
“Go!” cried the princess, in a tone of despair.
“Yes, it is inevitable,” was the answer, as the prince turned toward the fire, as if to escape importunities and reproaches.
“But when, Alexis — when? Give me still a few weeks of grace!” implored his sister, approaching him in much agitation.
“I give thee till April,” replied the prince, in an altered tone.
“But that is spring, the time I pray for! Do you, then, grant my prayer?” exclaimed the princess, pausing in amazement.
“I said we must go, but not when; now I fix a time, and give thee yet some w eeks of grace. Didst thou think I loved my own pleasure more than thv life, my sister?”
As he turned, with a smile of tender reproach, the princess uttered a erv of joy and threw herself into his arms in a paroxysm of gratitude, delight and affection. I never imagined that the prince could unbend so beautifullv and entirely; but as I watched him caress and reassure the frail creature who clung to him, I was surprised to find what a hearty admiration suddenly sprung up w ithin me for “the barbarian,” as I often called him to myself. I enjoyed the pretty tableau a moment, and was quietly gliding away, lest I should be de trap, when the princess arrested me by exclaiming, as she leaned on her brothers arm, showing a face rosy with satisfaction:
“Chere Sybil, come and thank him for this kindness; you know how ardently I desired the boon, and you must help me to express my gratitude.”
“In what language shall I thank Monsieur le Prince for prolonging his sister’s life? Your tears, madame, are more eloquent than any words of mine,” I replied, veiling the reproach under a tone of respectful meekness.
“She is too proud, this English Consuelo; she will not stoop to confess an obligation even to Alexis Demidoff.”
He spoke in a half-playful, half-petulant tone, and hesitated over the last words, as if he would have said “a prince.” The haughtiness was quite gone, and something in his expression, attitude and tone touched me. The sacrifice had cost him something, and a little commendation would not hurt him, vain and selfish though he might be. I was grateful for the poor princess’s sake, and I did not hesitate to show it, saying with my most cordial smile, and doubtless some of the satisfaction I could not but feel visible in my face:
“I am not too proud to thank you sincerely for this favor to Madame la Princesse, nor to ask pardon for anything by which I may have offended you.”
A gratified smile rewarded me as he said, with an air of surprise:
“And yet, mademoiselle desires much to see St. Petersburg?”
“I do, but I can wait, remembering that it is more blessed to give than to receive.”
A low bow was the only reply he made, and with a silent caress to his sister he left the room.
“You have not yet seen the droschky; from the window of the ante-room the courtyard is visible; go, mademoiselle, and get a glimpse of St. Petersburg,” said the princess, returning to her sofa, weary with the scene.
I went, and looking down, saw the most picturesque equipage I had ever seen. The elegant, coquettish droschky with a pair of splendid black Ukraine horses, harnessed in the Russian fashion, with a network of purple leather profusely ornamented with silver, stood before the grand entrance, and on the seat sat a handsome young man in full Ischvostchik costume. His caftan of fine cloth was slashed at the sides with embroidery; his hat had a velvet band, a silver buckle, and a bunch of rosy ribbons in it; a white-laced neck-cloth, buckskin gloves, hair and beard in perfect order; a brilliant sash and a crimson silk shirt. As I stood wondering if he was a serf, the prince appeared, wrapped in the long gray capote, lined with scarlet, which all military Russians wear, and the brilliant helmet surmounted by a flowing white plume. As he seated himself among the costly furs he glanced up at his sister’s windows, where she sometimes stood to see him. His quick eve recognized me, and to my surprise he waved his hand with a gracious smile as the fiery horses whirled him away.
That smile haunted me curiously all day, and more than once I glanced into the courtyard, hoping to see the picturesque droschkv again, for, though one cannot live long in Paris without seeing nearly everv costume under the sun, and accustomed as I was to such sights, there was something peculiarly charming to me in the martial figure, the brilliant equipage and the wild black horses, as full of untamed grace and power as if but just brought from the steppes of Tartary.
There was a dinner party in the evening, and, anxious to gratify her brother, the princess went down. Usually I enjoyed these free hours, and was never at a loss for occupation or amusement, but on this evening I could settle to nothing till I resolved to indulge an odd whim which possessed me. Arranging palette and brushes, I was soon absorbed in reproducing on a small canvas a likeness of the droschky and its owner. Hour after hour slipped by as the little picture grew, and horses, vehicle, driver and master took shape and color under my touch. I spent much time on the principal figure, but left the face till the last. All was carefully copied from memory, the white tunic, golden cuirass, massive epaulets, and silver sash; the splendid casque with its plume, the gray cloak, and the scarlet trowsers, half-hidden by the high boots of polished leather. At the boots I paused, trying to remember so
mething.
“Did he wear spurs?” I said, half audibly, as I leaned back to survey my work complacently.
“Decidedly yes, mademoiselle,” replied a voice, and there stood the prince with a wicked smile on his lips.
I seldom lose mv self-possession, and alter an involuntary start, was quite myself, though mueh annoyed at being discovered. Instead of hiding the picture or sitting dumb with embarrassment, I held it up, saying tranquilly:
“Is it not creditable to so bad an artist? I was in doubt about the spurs, but now I can soon finish.”
“The horses are wonderful, and the furs perfect. Ivan is too handsome, and this countenance may be said to lack expression.”
He pointed to the blank spot where his own face should have been, and eyed me with most exasperating intelligence. But I concealed my chagrin under an innocent air, and answered simply:
“Yes; I wait to find a portrait of the czar before I finish this addition to my little gallery of kings and queens.”
“The czar!” ejaculated the prince, with such an astonished expression that I could not restrain a smile, as I touched up the handsome Ivan’s beard.
“I have an admiration for the droschky, and that it may be quite complete, I boldly add the czar. It always pleased me to read how freely and fearlessly he rides among his people, unattended, in the gray cloak and helmet.”
The prince gave me an odd look, crossed the room, and returning, laid before me an enameled casket, on the lid of which was a portrait of a stout, light-haired, somewhat ordinary, elderly gentleman, saying in a tone which betrayed some pique and much amusement:
“Mademoiselle need not wait to finish her work: behold the czar!”
I was strongly tempted to laugh, and own the truth, but something in the prince’s manner restrained me, and after gravely regarding the portrait a moment, I began to copy it. My hand was not steady nor my eye clear, but I recklessly daubed on till the prince, who had stood watching me, said suddenly in a very mild tone:
“I flatter myself that there was some mistake last evening; either Mouche failed to do his errand, or the design of the trinket displeased you. I have endeavored to suit mademoiselle’s taste better, and this time I offer it myself.”
A white-gloved hand holding an open jewel-case which contained a glittering ring came before my eyes, anil 1 could not retreat. Being stubborn by nature, and ruffled bv what had just passed, as well as bent on having my own way in the matter, I instantly decided to refuse all gifts. Retreating slightly from the offering, I pointed to the flowers on the table near me, and said, with an air of grave decision:
“Monsieur le Prince must permit me to decline. I have already received all that it is possible to accept.”
“Nay, examine the trifle, mademoiselle, and relent. Why will you not oblige me and be friends, like Mouche?” he said, earnestly.
That allusion to the dog nettled me, and I replied, coldly turning from the importunate hand.
“It was not the silver collar which consoled poor Mouche for the blows. Like him I can forgive, but I cannot so soon forget.”
The dainty case closed with a sharp snap, and flinging it on to a table as he passed, the prince left the room without a word.
I was a little frightened at what I had done for a moment, but soon recovered my courage, resolving that since he had made it a test which should yield, I would not be the one to do it, for I had right on my side. Nor would I be appeased till he had made the amende honorable to me as to the dog. I laughed at the foolish affair, yet could not entirely banish a feeling of anger at the first violence and at the lordly way in which he tried to atone for the insult.
“Let us wait and see how the sultan carries himself to-morrow,” I said; “if he become tyrannical, I am free to go, thank heaven; otherwise it is interesting to watch the handsome savage chafe and fret behind the bars of civilized society.”
And gathering up mv work, I retired to my room to replace the czar’s face with that of the prince.
CHAPTER IV
“Chere amie, you remember I told you that Alexis always gave me some trifle after he had made me weep; behold what a charming gift I find upon my table to-day!” cried the princess, as I joined her next morning.
She held up her slender hand, displaying the ring I had left behind me the night before. I had had but a glimpse of it, but I knew it by the peculiar arrangement of the stones. Before I could say anything the princess ran on, as pleased as a girl with her new bauble:
“I have just discovered the prettiest conceit imaginable. See, the stones spell ‘Pardon;’ pearl, amethyst, ruby, diamond, opal, and as there is no stone commencing with the last letter, the initial of my name is added in enamel. Is not that divine?”
I examined it, and being a woman, I regretted the loss of the jewels as well as the opportunity of ending the matter, by a kinder reply to this fanciful petition for pardon. While I hesitated to enlighten the princess, for fear of further trouble, the prince entered, and I retreated to my seat at the other end of the room.
“Dear Alexis, I have just discovered your charming souvenir; a thousand thanks,” cried his sister, with effusion.
“My souvenir; of what do you speak, Nadja?” he replied, with an air of surprise as he approached.
“Ah, you affect ignorance, but I well know whose hand sends me this, though I find it lying carelessly on my table. Yes, that start is very well done, yet it does not impose upon me. I am charmed with the gift; come, and let me embrace you.”
With a very ill grace the “dear Alexis” submitted to the ceremony, and received the thanks of his sister, who expatiated upon the taste and beauty of the ring till he said, impatiently:
“You are very ingenious in your discoveries; I confess I meant it for a charming woman whom I had offended; if you had not accepted it I should have flung it in the fire. Now let it pass, and bid me adieu. I go to pass a week with Bagdonoff.”
The princess was, of course, desolated to lose her brother, but resigned herself to the deprivation with calmness, and received his farewell without tears. I thought he meant to ignore me entirely, but to my surprise he approached, and with an expression I had never seen before, said, in a satirical tone:
“Mademoiselle, I leave the princess to your care, with perfect faith in your fidelity. Permit me to hope that you will enjoy my absence,” and with a low bow, such as I had seen him give a countess, he departed.
The week lengthened to three before we saw the prince, and 1 am forced to confess that I did not enjoy his absence. So monotonous grew my days that I joyfully welcomed a somewhat romantic little episode in which I was just then called to plav a part.
One of my former pupils had a lover. Madame Bayard discovered the awful fact, sent the girl home to her parents, and sternly refused to give the young man her address. He knew me, and in his despair applied to me for help and consolation. But not daring to seek me at the prince’s hotel, he sent a note, imploring me to grant him an interview in the Tuileries Garden at a certain hour. I liked Adolph, pitied my amiable ex-pupil, and believing in the sinceritv of their love, was glad to aid them.
At the appointed time I met Adolph, and for an hour paced up and down the leafless avenues, listening to his hopes and fears. It was a dull April day, and dusk fell early, but we were so absorbed that neither observed the gathering twilight till an exclamation from my companion made me look up.
“That man is watching us!”
“What man?” I asked, rather startled.
“Ah, he slips away again behind the trees yonder. He has done it twice before as we approached, and when we are past he follows stealthily. Do you see him?”
I glanced into the duskv path which crossed our own, and caught a glimpse of a tall man in a cloak just vanishing.
“You mistake, he does not watch us; why should he? Your own disquiet makes you suspicious, man ami" I said.
“Perhaps so; let him go. Dear mademoiselle, I ask a thousand pardons for detaining you so lo
ng. Permit me to call a carriage tor you.”
I preferred to walk, and refusing Adolph’s entreaties to escort me, I went mv way along the garden side of the Rue de Rivoli, glad to be free at last. The wind was dying away as the sun set, but as a last freak it blew mv veil off and carried it several yards behind me. A gentleman caught and advanced to restore it. As he put it into my hand with a bow, I uttered an exclamation, for it was the prince. He also looked surprised, and greeted me courteously, though with a strong expression of curiosity visible in his face. A cloak hung over his arm, and as my eyes fell upon it, an odd fancy took possession of me, causing me to conceal my pleasure at seeing him, and to assume a cold demeanor, which he observed at once. Vouchsafing no explanation of my late walk, I thanked him for the little service, adjusted my veil, and walked on as if the interview was at an end.
“It is late for mademoiselle to promenade alone; as I am about to return to the hotel, she will permit me to accompany her?”
The prince spoke in his most gracious tone, and walked beside me, casting covert glances at my face as we passed, the lamps now shining all about us. I was angry, and said, with significant emphasis:
“Monsieur le Prince has already sufficiently honored me with his protection. I can dispense with it now.”
“Pardon, I do not understand,” he began hastily; but I added, pointing to the garment on his arm:
“Pray assume your cloak; it is colder here than in the garden of the Tuileries.”
Glancing up as I spoke, I saw him flush and frown, then draw himself up as if to haughtily demand an explanation, but with a sudden impulse, pause, and ask, averting his eyes:
“Why does mademoiselle speak in that accusing tone? Are the gardens forbidden ground to me?”
“Yes; when Monsieur le Prince condescends to play the spy,” I boldly replied, adding with a momentary doubt arising in my mind, “Were you not there watching me?”
To my infinite surprise he looked me full in the face, and answered briefly:
“I was.”
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