“You old fool,” returned his master, savagely, “let me ever hear you repeat such nonsense again, and I will have you skinned alive. The lady is highborn, and of good family; beware how you insult her. Nay, I give you further commands: see that during her sojourn here she is treated with the utmost respect. And communicate this to all the servants. Mind, no more tales about the vision that your addled brain conjured up of wolves in the marsh, and above all do not let me hear that you have been alarming little Katrina with your senseless babble.”
The old man bowed humbly, and, after a short pause, remarked:—
“The lad that was injured at the hunt to-day is dead, my lord.”
“Oh, dead is he, poor wretch!” returned Paul, to whom the death of a serf lad was not a matter of overweening importance. “But look here, Michal, remember that if any inquiries are made about the lady, that no one knows anything about her; that, in fact, no one has seen her at all.”
“Your lordship shall be obeyed,” answered the old man; and then, seeing that his master had relapsed into his former moody reverie, he left the room, crossing himself at every step he took.
Late into the night Paul sat up thinking over the occurrences of the day. He had told Michal that his guest was of noble family, but in reality he knew nothing more of her than she had condescended to tell him.”
“Why, I don’t even know her name,” muttered he; “and yet somehow or other it seems as if a new feature of my life was opening before me. However, I have made one step in advance by getting her here, and if she talks about leaving, why, all that I have to do is threaten her with the police.”
After his usual custom he smoked cigarette after cigarette, and poured out copious tumblers of brandy. The attendant serf replenished the stove from a small den which opened into the corridor, and after a time Paul slumbered heavily in his armchair. He was aroused by a light touch upon the shoulder, and, starting up, saw the stranger of the forest standing by his side.
“This is indeed kind of you,” said she, with her usual mocking smile. “You felt that I should be strange here, and you got up early to see to the horses, or can it really be, those ends of cigarettes, that empty bottle of brandy? Paul Sergevitch, you have not been to bed at all.”
Paul muttered a few indistinct words in reply, and then, ringing the bell furiously, ordered the servant to clear away the débris of last night’s orgy, and lay the table for breakfast; then, with a hasty apology, he left the room to make a fresh toilet, and in about half an hour returned with his appearance sensibly improved by his ablutions and change of dress.
“I dare say,” remarked the lady, as they were seated at the morning meal, for which she manifested the same indifference that she had for the dinner of the previous evening, “that you would like to know my name and who I am. Well, I don’t mind telling you my name. It is Ravina, but as to my family and who I am, it will perhaps be best for you to remain in ignorance. A matter of policy, my dear Paul Sergevitch, a mere matter of policy, you see. I leave you to judge from my manners and appearance whether I am of sufficiently good form to be invited to the honor of your table—”
“None more worthy,” broke in Paul, whose bemuddled brain was fast succumbing to the charms of his guest; “and surely that is a question upon which I may be deemed a competent judge.”
“I do not know about that,” returned Ravina, “for from all accounts the company that you used to keep was not of the most select character.”
“No, but hear me,” began Paul, seizing her hand and endeavoring to carry it to his lips. But as he did so an unpleasant chill passed over him, for those slender fingers were icy cold.
“Do not be foolish,” said Ravina, drawing away her hand, after she had permitted it to rest for an instant in Paul’s grasp, “do you not hear someone coming?”
As she spoke the sound of tiny pattering feet was heard in the corridor, then the door was flung violently open, and with a shrill cry of delight, Katrina rushed into the room, followed more slowly by her brother Alexis.
“And are these your children?” asked Ravina, as Paul took up the little girl and placed her fondly upon his knee, whilst the boy stood a few paces from the door gazing with eyes of wonder upon the strange woman, for whose appearance he was utterly unable to account. “Come here, my little man,” continued she; “I suppose you are the heir of Kostopchin, though you do not resemble your father much.”
“He takes after his mother, I think,” returned Paul carelessly; “and how has my darling Katrina been?” he added, addressing his daughter.
“Quite well, papa dear,” answered the child; “but where is the fine white wolf skin that you promised me?”
“Your father did not find her,” answered Ravina, with a little laugh; “the white wolf was not so easy to catch as he fancied.”
Alexis had moved a few steps nearer to the lady, and was listening with grave attention to every word she uttered.
“Are white wolves so difficult to kill, then?” asked he.
“It seems so, my little man,” returned the lady, “since your father and all the serfs of Kostopchin were unable to do so.”
“I have got a pistol, that good old Michal has taught me to fire, and I am sure I could kill her if ever I got sight of her,” observed Alexis, boldly.
“There is a brave boy,” returned Ravina, with one of her shrill laughs; “and now, won’t you come and sit on my knee, for I am very fond of little boy?”
“No, I don’t like you,” answered Alexis, after a moment’s consideration, “for Michal says—”
“Go to your room, you insolent young brat,” broke in the father, in a voice of thunder. “You spend so much of your time with Michal and the serfs that you have learned all their boorish habits.”
Two tiny tears rolled down the boy’s cheeks as in obedience to his father’s orders he turned about and quitted the room, whilst Ravina darted a strange look of dislike after him. As soon, however, as the door had closed, the fair woman addressed Katrina.
“Well, perhaps you will not be so unkind to me as your brother,” said she. “Come to me,” and as she spoke she held out her arms.
The little girl came to her without hesitation, and began to smooth the silken tresses which were coiled and wreathed around Ravina’s head.
“Pretty, pretty,” she murmured, “beautiful lady.”
“You see, Paul Sergevitch, that your little daughter has taken to me at once,” remarked Ravina.
“She takes after her father, who was always noted for his good taste,” returned Paul, with a bow; “but take care, madam, or the little puss will have your necklace off.”
The child had indeed succeeded in unclasping the glittering ornament, and was now inspecting it in high glee.
“That is a curious ornament,” said Paul, stepping up to the child and taking the circlet from her hand.
It was indeed a quaintly fashioned ornament, consisting as it did of a number of what were apparently curved pieces of sharp-pointed horn set in gold, and depending from a snake of the same precious metal.
“Why, these are claws,” continued he, as he looked at them more carefully.
“Yes, wolves’ claws,” answered Ravina, taking the necklet from the child and reclasping it round her neck. “It is a family relic which I have always worn.”
Katrina at first seemed inclined to cry at her new plaything being taken from her, but by caresses and endearments Ravina soon contrived to lull her once more into a good temper.
“My daughter has certainly taken to you in a most wonderful manner,” remarked Paul, with a pleased smile. “You have quite obtained possession of her heart.”
“Not yet, whatever I may do later on,” answered the woman, with her strange cold smile, as she pressed the child closer towards her and shot a glance at Paul which made him quiver with an emotion that he had never felt before. Presently, however, the child grew tired of her new acquaintance, and sliding down from her knee, crept from the room in search
of her brother Alexis.
Paul and Ravina remained silent for a few instants, and then the woman broke the silence.
“All that remains for me now, Paul Sergevitch, is to trespass on your hospitality, and to ask you to lend me some disguise, and assist me to gain the nearest post town, which, I think, is Vitroski.”
“And why should you wish to leave this at all,” demanded Paul, a deep flush rising to his cheek. “You are perfectly safe in my house, and if you attempt to pursue your journey there is every chance of your being recognized and captured.”
“Why do I wish to leave this house?” answered Ravina, rising to her feet and casting a look of surprise upon her interrogator. “Can you ask me such a question? How is it possible for me to remain here?”
“It is perfectly impossible for you to leave; of that I am quite certain,” answered the man, doggedly. “All I know is, that if you leave Kostopchin, you will inevitably fall into the hands of the police.”
“And Paul Sergevitch will tell them where they can find me?” questioned Ravina, with an ironical inflection in the tone of her voice.
“I never said so,” returned Paul.
“Perhaps not,” answered the woman, quickly, “but I am not slow in reading thoughts; they are sometimes plainer to read than words. You are saying to yourself, ‘Kostopchin is but a dull hole after all; chance has thrown into my hands a woman whose beauty pleases me; she is utterly friendless, and is in fear of the pursuit of the police; why should I not bend her to my will?’ That is what you have been thinking—is it not so, Paul Sergevitch?”
“I never thought, that is—” stammered the man.
“No, you never thought that I could read you so plainly,” pursued the woman, pitilessly; “but it is the truth that I have told you, and sooner than remain an inmate of your house, I would leave it, even if all the police of Russia stood ready to arrest me on its very threshold.”
“Stay, Ravina,” exclaimed Paul, as the woman made a step towards the door. “I do not say whether your reading of my thoughts is right or wrong, but before you leave, listen to me. I do not speak to you in the usual strain of a pleading lover—you, who know my past, would laugh at me should I do so; but I tell you plainly that from the first moment that I set eyes upon you, a strange new feeling has risen up in my heart, not the cold thing that society calls love, but a burning resistless flood which flows down like molten lava from the volcano’s crater. Stay, Ravina, stay, I implore you, for if you go from here you will take my heart with you.”
“You may be speaking more truthfully than you think,” returned the fair woman, as, turning back, she came close up to Paul, and placing both her hands upon his shoulders, shot a glance of lurid fire from her eyes. “Still, you have but given me a selfish reason for my staying, only your own self-gratification. Give me one that more nearly affects myself.”
Ravina’s touch sent a tremor through Paul’s whole frame which caused every nerve and sinew to vibrate. Gaze as boldly as he might into those steel-blue eyes, he could not sustain their intensity.
“Be my wife, Ravina,” faltered he. “Be my wife. You are safe enough from all pursuit here, and if that does not suit you I can easily convert my estate into a large sum of money, and we can fly to other lands, where you can have nothing to fear from the Russian police.”
“And does Paul Sergevitch actually mean to offer his hand to a woman whose name he does not even know, and of whose feelings towards him he is entirely ignorant?” asked the woman, with her customary mocking laugh.
“What do I care for name or birth,” returned he, hotly, “I have enough for both, and as for love, my passion would soon kindle some sparks of it in your breast, cold and frozen as it may now be.”
“Let me think a little,” said Ravina; and throwing herself into an armchair she buried her face in her hands and seemed plunged in deep reflection, whilst Paul paced impatiently up and down the room like a prisoner awaiting the verdict that would restore him to life or doom him to a shameful death.
At length Ravina removed her hands from her face and spoke.
“Listen,” said she. “I have thought over your proposal seriously, and upon certain conditions, I will consent to become your wife.”
“They are granted in advance,” broke in Paul, eagerly.
“Make no bargains blindfold,” answered she, “but listen. At the present moment I have no inclination for you, but on the other hand I feel no repugnance for you. I will remain here for a month, and during that time I shall remain in a suite of apartments which you will have prepared for me. Every evening I will visit you here, and upon your making yourself agreeable my ultimate decision will depend.”
“And suppose that decision should be an unfavorable one?” asked Paul.
“Then,” answered Ravina, with a ringing laugh, “I shall, as you say, leave this and take your heart with me.”
“These are hard conditions,” remarked Paul. “Why not shorten the time of probation?”
“My conditions are unalterable,” answered Ravina, with a little stamp of the foot. “Do you agree to them or not?”
“I have no alternative,” answered he, sullenly; “but remember that I am to see you every evening.”
“For two hours,” said the woman, “so you must try and make yourself as agreeable as you can in that time; and now, if you will give orders regarding my rooms, I will settle myself in them with as little delay as possible.”
Paul obeyed her, and in a couple of hours three handsome chambers were got ready for their fair occupant in a distant part of the great rambling house.
THE AWAKENING OF THE WOLF
The days slipped slowly and wearily away, but Ravina showed no signs of relenting. Every evening, according to her bond, she spent two hours with Paul and made herself most agreeable, listening to his far-fetched compliments and asseverations of love and tenderness either with a cold smile or with one of her mocking laughs. She refused to allow Paul to visit her in her own apartments, and the only intruder she permitted there, save the servants, was little Katrina, who had taken a strange fancy to the fair woman. Alexis, on the contrary, avoided her as much as he possibly could, and the pair hardly ever met. Paul, to while away the time, wandered about the farm and the village, the inhabitants of which had recovered from their panic as the white wolf appeared to have entirely desisted from her murderous attacks upon belated peasants. The shades of evening had closed in as Paul was one day returning from his customary round, rejoiced with the idea that the hour for Ravina’s visit was drawing near, when he was startled by a gentle touch upon the shoulder, and turning round, saw the old man Michal standing just behind him. The intendant’s face was perfectly livid, his eyes gleamed with the luster of terror, and his fingers kept convulsively clasping and unclasping.
“My lord,” exclaimed he, in faltering accents; “oh, my lord, listen to me, for I have terrible news to narrate to you.”
“What is the matter?” asked Paul, more impressed than he would have liked to confess by the old man’s evident terror.
“The wolf, the white wolf! I have seen it again,” whispered Michal.
“You are dreaming,” retorted his master, angrily. “You have got the creature on the brain, and have mistaken a white calf or one of the dogs for it.”
“I am not mistaken,” answered the old man, firmly. “And oh, my lord, do not go into the house, for she is there.”
“She—who—what do you mean?” cried Paul.
“The white wolf, my lord. I saw her go in. You know the strange lady’s apartments are on the ground floor on the west side of the house. I saw the monster cantering across the lawn, and, as if it knew its way perfectly well, make for the center window of the reception room; it yielded to a touch of the fore paw, and the beast sprang through. Oh, my lord, do not go in; I tell you that it will never harm the strange woman. Ah! let me—”
But Paul cast off the detaining arm with a force that made the old man reel and fall, and then, catchin
g up an ax, dashed into the house, calling upon the servants to follow him to the strange lady’s rooms. He tried the handle, but the door was securely fastened, and then, in all the frenzy of terror, he attacked the panels with heavy blows of his ax. For a few seconds no sound was heard save the ring of metal and the shivering of panels, but then the clear tones of Ravina were heard asking the reason for this outrageous disturbance.
“The wolf, the white wolf,” shouted half a dozen voices.
“Stand back and I will open the door,” answered the fair woman. “You must be mad, for there is no wolf here.”
The door flew open and the crowd rushed tumultuously in; every nook and corner were searched, but no signs of the intruder could be discovered, and with many shamefaced glances Paul and his servants were about to return, when the voice of Ravina arrested their steps.”
“Paul Sergevitch,” sad she, coldly, “explain the meaning of this daring intrusion on my privacy.”
She looked very beautiful as she stood before them; her right arm extended and her bosom heaved violently, but this was doubtless caused by her anger at the unlooked-for invasion.
Paul briefly repeated what he had heard from the old serf, and Ravina’s scorn was intense.
“And so,” cried she, fiercely, “it is to the crotchets of this old dotard that I am indebted for this. Paul, if you ever hope to succeed in winning me, forbid that man ever to enter the house again.”
Paul would have sacrificed all his serfs for a whim of the haughty beauty, and Michal was deprived of the office of intendant and exiled to a cabin in the village, with orders never to show his face again near the house. The separation from the children almost broke the old man’s heart, but he ventured on no remonstrance and meekly obeyed the mandate which drove him away from all he loved and cherished.
The Werewolf Megapack Page 33