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WAYWARD DOSIA, 



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Outward Boimd. 

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Going Away. 



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IN PEEIL OF His LIFE. 
THE LEROUGE CASK 
LECOQ THE DETECTIVE. 
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Opinions of the Press on the First Edition. 

Jfr. Tint<tty'8 talc has all Uio interest ot a roiBaace vlik^ is too strmgo 
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should <^xist. Th4^ story is umtt^Uous in its intxicacMs aad eoMph- 




azTvussd as tha author has anasired it in its entvoas s«iinwnooB» and 

up as ha has suasancd it up with lei i ik shW lucidity, it urovld be 

to pcaisa too hichlT tho plan on which Mr. ViwceUr has cottstnwted 

V and tha ahUity with which ha has aaalTMd th« wntoBdiiw etUsMs. 

lift ws caj ut Ottco that Mr. Viiat^l^has performed his wv«k adaaixah^. Be 
dihcnsUy M>axv>had. patientlr studied, and Ok4Ubc«xa:«d with raxo diaerini- 
Ms ail tha coatiNBiHvrarT erideaea bcaruM? ia any d««T«e> oa the saibjeat tii 
le ftaatest lie of the ISth century/' Mr. Yixet«I^'$ twvk vxsAiuttes are 
Kbui^ in their intaiust, and aftw a perusal of thesa the Kast noxels axe 



nZETELLY S- i i\. ia» SOVTirAMPTOX STREET^ STRASD^ 



WAYWARD DOSIA. 



CHAPTER I. 

A MESS DINNER. 



Our scene is laid in the camp of Krasno^-S61o, a few miles 
from St. Petersburg. The Horse Guards' mess was just over ; 
the young officers had' been celebrating the birthday of a 
comrade, and the assembly was in that happy frame of mind 
which is sure to succeed a good dinner. 

A final bottle of champagne was in circulation. The mess 
tent was raised on one side, letting in the last level rays of 
a splendid June sun. It was about nine in the evening, and 
the dust that had b«en raised all day by the horses and 
infantry still hovered round the camp like a golden nimbus. 

Toward the small summer theatre, where the young men 
sought some alleviation in their military exile, rolled numer- 
ous carriages, bearing the married officers with their wives. 
In the single drosKs, about the width of a sword-blade, 
were perched the junior officers, sometimes carrying one of 
their co^nrades on their knees, because they had no seats to 
offer. These light vehicles soon took the lead, and deposited 
their burdens first at the theatre doors. The carriages 
passed gaily on, but the play that night was not to be 
honoured by them of the white and scarlet head-gear. The 
Guards had determined to ftii\s\x Wi^ ^N^\i\\i^ ^ *^^ ^ssa'^rs' 



6 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

table. Indeed, where could they be more at their ease? 
Great china vases were there full of flowers, crystal bowls 
heaped with fruit, and drums crammed with bon-bons and 
sweet things, for officers of eighteen are mere babies in 
their passion for dainties. Clumps of dark evergreens 
screened the stakes that held the tent in place. In short, 
these young fellows, many of whom were millionaires, sought 
in their camp life an echo of their city luxuries, and they had 
certainly succeeded in their search. Besides, when you 
subscribe eight pounds or so a head for a friendly dinner, 
you expect to dine comfortably. 

" * Where can one better be than in one's familee ! ' " 
hummed the hero of the evening as he threw himself lazily 
back in his chair while cigars and coffee were being served. 
" You are my family," he continued, " my patriotic family, 
my simimer family, you know, my dear friends, for at other 
seasons I have another ! " and he laughed that jolly contented 
laugh which indicates that the laugher has just slightly — 
very slightly — overstepped the bounds of prudence in hia 
drinking. 

His comrades answered by a chorus of laughter and 
joyous cries. 

" I have even a separate family for each separate season," 
went on Peter Monrief with undiminished good humour, " a 
Petersburg family for the winter, a Khazan family for the 
hunting season, for autumn I should say, a Ladoga family for 
spring — " 

" The season of nests and love-making," interjected a lively 
banqueter. 

The colonel who had been present at the dinner, for his 

relations with his young men were of the most cordial 

description, now judged it time to retire, and pushed back 

his chair. The older officers, four or five in number, imitated 

his example. 



A MESS DINNER. 7 

" Are you going oflf, colonel ? " cried Peter, leaning both 
elbows on the table. This is a base desertion, sir, a flight in 
face of the foe. Bring punch ! " he called in Buss to tlie 
soldiers who were waiting at table. " Show the colonel the 
enemy, and he will never dare desert his flag \ " 

" I have a business engagement," said the colonel with a 
smile, " and must beg to be excused. I am really serious," 
he added, so gravely that Peter and the others ventured on no 
further remonstrance. The colonel went off with a shake for 
every hand, and a responsive smile for every bright glance. 

"What a good fellow he is 1 " said a lieutenant, "he goes 
just in time to make us wish for more of him." 

" 'Tis a clever fellow, too, by Jove ! " answered a captain 
of twenty-five or so, with a handsome face, in which gravity 
and mocking mischief were attractively blended, and who 
wore the cross of St. George. " He saw that Peter was 
about to get rather wild in his talk, and as he did not want 
to have to put him under arrest on his birthday, he — " 

" Wild ! " interrupted Peter. " I wild ! You do not know 
me," he continued with the greatest gravity. The whole 
mess shouted with laughter. 

" Wild, indeed ! Is it wild to have a family for every 
season of the year ? Is it not the best way never to live 
alone ? Does not the Scripture say that it is not good for 
man to live alone ? " 

" Get on the table ! " they cried in all directions. " Get 
into the pulpit and let us have a sermon ! " 

" No, I object," said Peter, shaking his head ; " I might 
put my feet in the punch-bowL" 

The punch arrived, flaming and formidable, in an enormous 
silver bowl engraved with the regimental arms ; small cups 
of the same metal, similarly marked, replaced glasses, and 
were ranged in symmetrical order round the great bowl like 
a division in battle array. 



8 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

Peter took up the huge ladle, and began to stir the flaming 
liquid with all due solemnity. 

" Your winter family," said an ofl&cer, " is easily enough 
understood ; your hunting family is by no means amiss ; but 
what the deuce is your spring family ? " 

" How is it possible for one to ask such a simple question ? " 
answered Peter with an air of vast superiority. 

" Well, tell us then ! " lirged another. 

"Why, I make love to them," returned the youth 
triumphantly ; " that family is all women ! " 

A shout of boisterous laughter ran round the tent. Peter 
Monrief could no longer preserve his gravity. " On about 
eight square versts of ground," he continued, "I have nineteen 
girl cousins. There are five in the house on the left of the 
high road, three in the house on the right, two versts further 
on ; seven on the river and four on the lake : total, nineteen. 
And you ask me the use of my spring family ! " He shrugged 
his shoulders and applied himself again to making the punch 
blaze. 

" To which of these do you make love ? " asked a neighbour. 

"To all," replied Peter, with the gesture of a conquering 
hero. He reflected for a moment and resumed : " No, I 
never made love to the eldest because she is thirty-seven, nor 
to the youngest because she is only eighteen months old ; but 
to all the others I made hot love." 

" Oh, if you count babies ! " said the last speaker disdain- 
fully. 

" Babies ! Let me inform you, sir, that there is no greater 
coquette than a little girl of twelve ; she is ignorant of the 
ma^im, * Feign a virtue if you have it not ; * and frankly 
pulls you by the sleeve and says, * Say something pretty to 
me, cousin, pay me a compliment ! ' " 

" That is true ! " cried those of the mess-table who sat 
nearest the punch-bowl. 



A MBSS DINNER. 9 

" But have you no success with any older cousin ? " said the 
officer who wore the cross of St. George, drawing his chair 
nearer. 

" Success ? Well, I don't know," answered Peter, thought- 
fully. After a moment's reflection he bui-st into a laugh, as 
he cried : " Yes, to be sure I have succeeded ! for I ran 
away with one." 

" Ran away with her 1 " 

" What on earth did you do with her ? " 

"Ah, what indeed?" returned Peter, folding his arms in 
a magisterial manner. 

A thousand suppositions were hazarded in this atmosphere 
of alcohol and tobacco smoke. Captain Sourof alone was 
very serious. " When did you perform this pretty exploit ? " 
he asked of Peter. 

" About six weeks ago, during my last leave — " 

" And never told us of it ! Kept it a mystery ! Concealed 
it from us ! " shouted the young madcaps, thumping the 
table. 

" Do you wish to hear the whole story ? " asked Peter 
Monrief, laying down the punch-ladle. The blue flames on 
the punch-bowl flickered more feebly ; the orderlies had 
lighted the candles in the candelabra, and it was bright as 
at mid-day in the mess tent. 

" To be sure we do," answered his comrades. 

Sourof looked far from pleased. " Peter," he said in a low 
voice, "pray think of what you are saying." 

" My dear count," replied Peter with feigned solemnity, 
" be easy in your mind ! I will promise you to utter not one 
word that can offend those chaste ears of yours." 

The count checked a peevish movement. 

"Come," said Peter, putting his hand on the young 
captain's arm, " you shall put me under arrest if I go too 
fori" 



10 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

" We bar that," cried a youth ; you promised to tell us the 
whole story ! " 

" So I will," responded Peter, slyly ; " you will soon see 
the count begging me to continue. Attention ! I am about to 
begin." 

The punch circulated around the table ; cigars, Turkish 
cigarettes, paquitos, every variety of smokable thing, was 
kindled, and Peter began his narrative. 



CHAPTER II. 

CATERPILLARS. 

'* I WILL not confide to you in which house the cousin with 
whom I eloped resided ; nor will I tell you how many sisters 
she had ; for that might put you on the track, and I prefer 
that you should suspect whichever of those nineteen graces 
or muses you may each of you please. I will only tell you 
that my cousin Palmyra — " 

" Palmyra is not a Russian name ! " cried one voice. 

" Let us call her Clementina, then." 

"That is no better." 

" What does the name matter?" Teturned Peter; "one is 
as good as another, since you are not to have the real one. 
My cousin Clementina is just seventeen, and is the worst 
brought-up girl in a family where all the girls are badly 
brought up. The cause of this deplorable state of things is 
Bufl&ciently singular. My Aunt Eudoxia — now be quiet with 
your objections, it is not her real name, I grant you. My 
aunt's first child was a frightfully ugly girl. Miserable at 
tbe thought of such an unattractive flower blooming at her 



CATERPILLARS. 11 

fireside, she determined to decorate her with every virtue 
that could adorn a woman. But my Aunt Prascovia — " 

" Eudoxia ! " interrupted a cornet. 

" Virginia ! " resumed Monrie^ quite undisturbed. " My 
Aunt Virginia is not lucky with her household operations. 
When she salts her pickles she always overdoes it; when she 
makes her sweetmeats she leaves out half the sugar. This 
time she treated her daughter like the cucumbers, only it was 
the sugar she overdid. In short, to speak clearly, she so well 
brought up her eldest girl, cultivated in her so many virtues 
and perfections, that the dear creature became absolutely 
intolerable. Her Christian sweetness was more displeasing 
than vinegar in sweetmeats. Forgive me these culinary 
comparisons, my good friends. You don't know the im- 
portance my Aunt Pulcheria attaches to sweetmeats. As my 
eldest cousin was so perfect, my aunt, in despair, declared 
that her second child should have a totally different system 
of education. One daughter after another was sent from 
heaven to my Aunt Antonia, and I assure you that there are 
some droll ones among them." 

" May a nian see them 1 " asked an ofl&cer. 

" Not you, my dear friend." 

" Not for money ? " said another. 

" Not even gratis," answered Peter. " Now, my cousin 
Clementina is the worst brought up of the lot But you 
shall judge for yourselves. I will instance but one little 
detail of her behaviour, by which you may imagine the rest. 
When any special sweet dish that she fancies is brought to 
table, she lets every one be helped before her, then when the 
servant at length brings the said dish to her, she touches the 
tip of her velvety little tongue with her pink finger, and then 
with that same dainty finger pretends to describe a circle 
round the dish. *Now,' she says, *no one, of course, will 
want any more, and "it's all for ma I* " 



12 WATWABD DOSIA. 

" Oh, oh ! " cried the audience, somewhat scandalized. 

" And she eats it all," went on Peter, " for she plays a 
good knife and fork, I can tell you. And this is the cousin 
I ran away with. You ask, possibly, when in my collection 
of cousins there were others much better brought up, even 
among her sisters, why I should have selected this one — 
why I preferred her 1 Because, boys, she has one advantage, 
she is marvellously pretty." 

" Blonde ? " asked a curious youth. 

" Hair light chestnut, with blue eyes, and lashes as long 
as that ! " and Peter measured out to the small of his arm. 

" Tall 1 " 

" Very small, with minute feet and hands, a slender waist, 
and clever as — as — " 

"Cleverer than yourself, possibly," said Count Sourof, 
whose good humour was apparently restored. 

** Women are always cleverer than men," answered Peter, 
sententiously. " Some men would have us think the con- 
trary, but — " and he put his finger to his nose in a very 
expressive manner. 

" Now," continued the hero of the elopement, " my cousin 
adores riding, and she is quite right, for on horseback she is 
simply divine. She moimts a tall devil of a horse, as high 
as our colonel's but much thinner, — one of those kickers, 
you know ; and this one rarely gives the lie to the traditions 
of his race. He kicks at all times and seasons. You should 
see Clementina perched on this fantastic beast, gracefully 
keeping her seat through all the creature's antics, and look- 
ing as much at her ease as if she were offering you a cup of 
tea. Now, about six weeks ago," continued Peter, — " it was 
about the beginning of May, — I was sitting on one of those 
bench-like things they have in gardens, — you know what 1 
mean 1 — a very long plank, hung so that the weight of the 



CATERPILLARS. 13 

" Oh, you mean a see-saw with a vertical movement ! " 

"Precisely. Well, I was seated upon that, aiding ray 
digestion by gentle exercise, now going up, now going down 
like a doll hung on an india-rubber string. A shower of 
caterpillars kept falling from a big tree just over the see- 
saw, — I can see them now, — when I heard a crash as of 
French windows banged to. * Ah,' I said to myself, * the 
glass is broken.' I listened. No, the glass was not broken ; 
but what was that whirlwind ^ dashing down the long 
flight of steps 1 Let me say that these steps are so steep 
that when you mount them you come near touching your 
knees with your chin. Judge, then, how easy they were to 
come down ! I lighted my cigar, and waited. The white 
whirlwind reached the turf in safety, caught sight of me, 
was terrified, and stood still for a moment, then came on at 
full speed, and threw itself into my arms with such amazing 
strength that I nearly fell backwards. * 0, cousin Peter, 
I am so miserable ! ' cried Clementina, dissolved in tears. 

" I had received her in my arms, but I dared not detain 
her there ; the windows of the house seemed to glare at me 
with suspicious eyes, so I gently seated her on the see-saw 
at my side. I had lost my cigarette, however, in all this 
commotion. *Tell me all your troubles, cousin,* I said. 
She is always pretty, that cousin of mine, but when she 
w^eeps she is singularly attractive, somehow. 

" * Mamma will make me die of grief,' she sobbed, 
rubbing her eyes violently with her handkerchief, which she 
had made into a roimd ball about as large as a thimble ; 
* she says that I shall not ride Bayard.' 

" * Your tall horse 1 ' I asked, somewhat puzzled. 

" * Yes, my poor dear Bayard ; he is so fond of me, and so 
gentle.' 

" I was not precisely of the same opinion in regard to th^ 
beast in question, but I viiaeVj \id3L tccj \i^\^gk\&. 



14 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

" * Mamma has a spite against him, why, I can't imagine, 
— just to worry me, I fancy. To be sure he does, kick some- 
times, but no one in this world is perfect.' 

" I bowed in assent to this truth of philosophy. 

" * Yesterday he was out of temper. Our magistrate 
walked as far as the wood with us.' 

" * Yes, I know, for I was with you.' 

"*To be sure. Well, when we reached the sand-bank 
below. Bayard began to kick. The sand flew in clouds, and 
Mr. Justice was covered from head to foot. How funny he 
looked ! ' added Clementina^ laughing through her tears, 
and somewhat consoled by the recollection ; * and what a 
quantity of sand he must have swallowed ! That'll teach 
him to scold his poor peasants. But mamma is in a regular 
rage ; she says Bayard is an ill-conditioned beast, and that 
in future he shall draw the water-cart. You know what I 
mean : the cart that brings the water to the house from the 
spring in the valley.' 

" * Yes, yes, I know.' 

" * I hope that when they harness him to the cart he will 
break everything to pieces.' 

«*Ohl' 

" * No matter what mamma says,' she went on, * Bayard 
is not ill-conditioned ; and if he kicked yesterday, it was 
not his fault.' 

" * Was not his fault ? ' asked I, looking sideways at her. 

" * I made him kick,' she answered bravely ; * it amuses 
me ; 'twas I taught him,' she added proudly. 

" * You had an apt scholar,' I said, not quite knowing 
what to answer. 

" * Yes, to be sure ; he had always a taste in that di- 
rection, 'tis true ; but he is very obedient.' 

" ' In the way of kicking ! ' I interjected. 
^^ Clementina paid no attention. 



CATERPILLARS. 15 

" * I hate that magistrate of ours ! ' she resumed. * Do you 
you know why ? ' 

" * No, I do not.' 

" ' Because he wishes to marry me. And that was the 
reason mamma was so vexed.' 

" A pang of jealousy shot through my heart. Until then 
I had only looked on Clementina as an absurd and charming 
child, but the appearance of this magistrate on the scene 
changed my ideas. * Wishes to marry you ? * I said. 

" * Yes ; me, or Sophia, or Lucretia, or some other of us. 
At present, you see, he is a sort of general admirer.' 

" These words were somewhat reassuring. Nevertheless 
I did not altogether regain my former tranquillity of mind. 
Clementina, somewhat calmer, had set our see-saw in motion, 
and her little foot, applied energetically to the earth below. 
Bent us rapidly up and down. Mechanically I followed her 
example, and for a time we continued this amusement in 
solemn silence. 

" * Tell me, cousin Peter,' said Clementina suddenly, * do 
the Horse Guards ever marry ] ' 

" * Oh yes, cousin, we marry sometimes. Not often ; but 
still—' 

" * Not often ! " repeated Clementina, fixing on me her 
large blue eyes still wet with her tears. 

" * Many oflGicers don't marry, or leave the service if they 
do. Still there are several who have wives.' 

Clementina and I continued to swing up and down. A 
large caterpillar fell upon her head. * Permit me,' I said, 
* a caterpillar is on your hair.' 

" She bent her pretty head towards me, and I endeavoured 
to disengage the thing from the curly, rebellious tresses in 
which it was imbedded. This was no easy task, and I was 
afraid of bringing away with it some of her beautiful locka. 
Besides, I was very awkward. At \Qn[\!gJi[!b.\ %vji2/(^<^<^ 



16 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

" * At last ! ' I said to my cousin, who had not changed 
colour, although I felt my own cheeks bum hotly. 

"'Thanks,' she answered. And again we resumed our 
see-saw. 

" I do not know what elf troubled himself about our 
affairs, but a second caterpillar dropped this time on 
Clementina's shoulder. I seized it without a word, but I 
had time to feel her warm tender flesh palpitating under 
the covering muslin. 

** * They seem to rain down,' she said, quietly, looking up 
into the tree. 

'* ' Let. us go away from here,' I answered eagerly, impelled 
by a desire to take her into the shady solitary alleys of the 
old garden. 

" * No,' she said, I like this see-saw, — I find it very 
amusing ; and if more caterpillars fall on me, why, you may 
take them off.' 

" * I ask nothing better, cousin,' I answered promptly, and 
I touched the earth with with my foot, and up we went again. 

" At the end of a few moments Clementina said, without 
looking at me : * Is it true, cousin Peter, that I am such a 
very naughty girl 1 ' 

*• * No, indeed,' I answered ; ' you are only a little — a little 
peculiar.' 

" * Mamma says that I am' very disagreeable, and that no 
one can possibly like me.' 

" * That is too bad,' I answered with some warmth. 

" * You like me — do you not 'i ' she asked, looking me 
straight in the eyes. 

" * Yes, I like you,' I cried enthusiastically. The cater- 
pillars. Bayard, the magistrate, and that confounded see-saw 
had upset me entirely. 

" * There ! 'tis just what I said ! ' exclaimed Clementina in 
triumph, ' Well, then, cousin, you ahall marry me ! ' 



' CATERPILLARS. 17 

" I assure you, my friends, that when I think again of that 
morning, I am utterly aghast at my folly. " 

** Nothing to be astonished at ! " said Sourof calmly. 

" You think so — do you 1 Well I am not of your opinion. 
But I lost my head, as I was saying, and eagerly cried, 
'Yes, my dear child, I will marry you ! ' And I so suddenly 
checked the measured movement of our see-saw that we both 
of us nearly fell on our noses. I caught her by passing my 
arm round her waist ; but she gently disengaged herself, 
pressed her foot on the ground, and up we went 

" * When 1 * she said. 

" ' Whenever you choose ! Clementina ! why did I 
never know before how dearly I loved you ? ' I raved on like 
this for at least fifteen minutes. She listened undisturbed, 
smiling occasionally as if highly delighted. 

" * We will go to Petersburg ? ' she said. 

" * Yes, darling, to the camp — * 

" * To the camp ! That will be very amusing.' " 

A shout of laughter here interrupted the speaker. 

" Is it I, gentlemen, or she, whom you find so laughable V* 
said Peter, rising to his feet. He hsid swallowed enough 
punch to excite him, and his eyes indicated that his temper 
was slightly aroused. 

Sourof touched his arm. " It is at the camp they are 
laughing, of course," he said soothingly ; " go on ! " 

" Very well," said Monrief, " but there is nothing funny in 
the camp ! " 

"Well, goon." 

" All right. Well, gentlemen, we were engaged after this 
fashion. * Be sure,* said Clementina, * that you say nothing 
about it to mamma. You know her spirit of contradiction. 
We will tell her later.' This was all very well ; but I had 
forgotten that my leave was near its close, and that I must 
depart the next day but one." 

B 



18 WATWABD DOSU, 



CHAPTER III. 

PLUTO. 

" Believe me or not, as you choose, my dear friends," con- 
tinued Peter, after he had sent the punch round the table 
once more, " but the prospect of the marriage did not terrify 
me in the least." 

" Of course not, with such a pretty girl," said some one 
at the end of the table. 

" Pretty ! yes, to be sure ; but somewhat inconvenient tx) 
manage, — a little in the style of her own horse, that kicked 
in such a charmingly obedient fashion. But just then I 
did not care much for that. Besides, it was now dinner-time. 
Clementina ran off to the house, I after her. She climbed 
much more easily than I that break-neck flight of steps that 
I have described to you, and I next saw her at table, pulling 
the ears of her youngest sister, who uttered shrill cries like a 
peacock. My aunt with infinite difficulty succeeded at last 
in restoring a semblance of calm to this turbulent household 
— a household that was always in commotion from one reason 
or another. 

" Soup brought silence. *Twas a somewhat greasy soup 
which my aunt's cook makes to perfection. My aunt, who is 
as thin as a board, enjoyed it extremely. 

*^ ^ This soup is excellent ! ' she exclaimed more than once. 

My betrothed, with the most innocent, artless air, skimmed 

hers most carefully with her spoon, and deposited the fat in 

the plate of her right-hand neighbour, the parish priest, who 

imdbeea invited on account of its being some festival or other. 



PLUTO. 19 

" The good man did not perceive what was going on, being 
absorbed in a thorny explanation of some ecclesiastical suit. 
We concealed our amusement ; but my aunt at last saw what 
her daughter was doing. 

" ' For shame 1' she cried in horror. 

" ' I have finished, mamma ! ' answered my betrothed, 
swallowing the last spoonful of her soup in a hurry, and, 
leaning back in her chair, she looked about with the most 
satisfied expression, and almost as if expecting approval. 

" This conduct ought, you say, to have occasioned me 
serious thought and some misgivings ; but no, it did not I 
found Clementina absolutely adorable. She, perhaps, did 
not attach sufl&cient importance to the impending change in 
her life. But then she was charming as she was. 

" After dinner we had a game of GorelJd. You know what 
that is? The gentlemen each took a partner, and the 
couples stood in a long line. You know the game. Whoever 
is left without a partner gives a signal and runs after the 
others. I looked for Clementina; she was not there, but 
soon appeared, dragging by his collar an enormous New- 
foundland dog she adores, whom she calls Pluto. 

" * What are you going to do with that animal T I said. 

" * Why, he is my partner !* she replied, as she took her 
place in the line of couples. Pluto sat on his tail, and lolled 
out hi^ tongue. 

" ' And what is to become of me V I asked. 

" * Of you r she said, laughing in my face, * you are the 
one left out, and must give the signal.' 

" In fact, that was precisely the case, for there were no 
more ladies. To the great amusement of the elders on the 
balcony, I took the head and clapped my hands as a signal. 
The first couple behind me separated, and passing on each 
side of me, sought to meet again in front. T made an attempt 
to catch the girl, but without much ^\\iVv\i%\5ys»\s>L^ ^ao^^ *^^ 



20 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

couple, out of breath, ran back, once more joining hands, 
to the end of the line. I did the same with the others ; 
it was Clementina whom I meant to catch, and I was curious 
to see what she would do with her dog when I had caught 
her. 

" A furtive glance told me that it was her turn to run. I 
clapped my hands — one, two, three. A black mass passed 
me on the right, a white cloud on my left. I rushed toward 
the white cloud, but just as I believed that I had grasped it, 
my betrothed exclaimed : * Hold him, Pluto ! hold him !' 

" Pluto fastened himself at once to the tail of my uniform 
coat. I tried to shake him off, but he hung on like grim 
death ; I ordered him to * drop it,* all in vain, for he was in 
the habit of obeying only one magic word of command, a 
word which I had completely forgotten. Half laughing, half 
angry, I ceased to struggle, and looked about at the spectar 
tors. They were all splitting their sides with laughter." 

The young officers, who were listening with great interest 
to Peter's story, laughed too. Peter, after a short silence, 
resumed his tale with great solemnity. 

"Clementina threw herself on the ground, and laughed 
more than all the others together. Between two paroxysms 
of amusement my aunt called to her, ' Call Pluto off, child ! 
Call him !' 

" * I cannot ; indeed I cannot,' answered my betrothed, 
overwhelmed with merriment. 

" *Do not inconvenience yourself,' I said. 'When you are 
quite ready — ' And I tried to seat myself on the turf; but 
Pluto, with a growl, pulled me back so energetically "that I 
was obliged to stand upright. 

"At last Clementina stopped laughing, and said to the 
beast, * Good, Pluto, good !' 

** The docile creature dropped his hold and lay down at 
I Iierside, Such nas her fashion of training animals," 



•rLUTo. 21 

The ofl&cers applauded violently. " And what then T* they 
cried, " what then ?" 

Peter looked about him with the air of a victor. " What 
then ? Why, nothing that evening. I could not see her for 
one moment alone. Besides, I was really vexed with her for 
her dog's conduct. I went off to bed, promising myself to 
give her a lesson or two when she should be my wife. 

" The next morning, before seven o'clock, a hailstorm of 
fine gravel was thrown against my window. I threw it open, 
and heard silvery laughter afar off in some of the long alleys 
of the old garden. I dressed quickly and rushed out in pur- 
suit : all to no purpose ; I could find no one. Yet now and 
again a silvery laugh of defiance would come to me through 
the yoke elms. At last, just as I was thinking of going back 
for coffee, — ^for I was fasting, — I saw peeping through a 
laurel-bush the roguish face of my young betrothed. I 
rushed toward her, and not without a pin-prick or two en- 
circled her waist 

" 0, my friends, I had not even time to feel her heart beat 
once under my hand when I received — I shall blush to think 
of it all my life long — I received a box on my ears full and 
square;" and Peter, with a hang-dog air, looked round his 
audience as if asking sympathy. They were choking with 
laughter; Count Sourof smiled in a pleased way. 

" Ah, you find that amusing !" resumed the hero of the 
evening. " I confess that I did not. ' That is not a nice 
thing to do,' I said. * Has not a lover the right to catch his 
betrothed, when she plays hide-and-seek with him?' 

" * No,' she answered vehemently, red with anger ; ' and if 
you dare to touch me again, I shall certainly tell mamma !* 

" ' But, my dear child,' I said, * when we are married — ^ 

" * When we are married,' she repeated, with a coolness 
that overwhelmed me, * it will be the same thing, for I don't 
like familiarities. Hands off, sir V 



22 WAYWAllD DOSU. 

" She looked at me quietly, and, gentlemen, if you will 
believe me, actually made a little face at me, turned her back 
upon me and walked off. I made no attempt to detain her. 

" I had been seated for about five minutes in the dining- 
room before my cup of hot coffee, the aroma of which I was 
enjoying with the delicious hot, buttered rolls that are made 
nowhere in such perfection as at my aunt's, when I saw 
Clementina come in. We were the first at table, for it was 
still very early. 

" Very grave, with a bright colour still, the trace of her 
recent anger, she took her seat at my side, poured out a cup 
of coffee, and drew the sugar-basin toward her. The old 
governess, who had vainly sought to educate and discipline 
this insubordinate set of girls, uttered a sigh, but did not 
venture on a word of remonstrance, and, indeed, pretended 
to look out of the window. Clementina's little fingers in the 
silver sugar-bowl made a noise with the lumps like castanets, 
for she had laid the tongs on one side. With the utmost 
deliberation she dropped a bit of sugar in her own cup, and 
then with the same tranquil air put one in mine. 

" * Thanks,* I said, * I have quite enough.* 

" * That does not matter,' she returned carelessly, and 
two other bits were deposited in my coffee. She filled her 
own cup until it ran over, and then extended the empty 
sugar-basin to the governess. I began to understand what 
she was about. 

" * There is no more sugar,' she said quietly, with a little 
air of surprise. * Have the goodness to get some, if you 
please.* The poor governess uttered another heartfelt sigh, 
and went out with the keys. 

" * Peter,' said Clementina, * forgive me !' 

" I looked at her ; she seemed really in earnest. * I will, 
on one condition,' I answered, * and that is, that you will 
never do such a thing again.' 



THB ELOPEMENT. 23 

" * I never will, if you will make the same promise,' she 
answered eagerly; * is that a bargain V 

" Gentlemen, what would you have said in my place t 
' It is a bargain,' I answered. She clapped her hands gaily. 

" * Ah, what a happy time we are going to have ! ' she 
said. * What a pity that you must go to-morrow. But you 
will come back soon V 

" * Certainly,* I answered. 

"The day passed most pleasantly. My arm tingled 
occasionally, the muscles involuntarily contracted, and I was 
sorely tempted to put it round my cousin^s waist, but I re- 
sisted the temptation, and all went well. My aunt lectured 
her daughter only three or four times; in fact, the care 
needed by all her girls did not permit her to devote much 
time to any single one of them. Notwithstanding this, I 
could not exchange a word with Clementina untrammelled 
by the presence of some third party, whom she always 
contrived should be present." 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE ELOPEMENT. 



" The following day was that of my departure. Very early in 
the morning, after having ordered my horses to be in readi- 
ness at eight o'clock in the evening, I went out into the 
garden, hoping to find my betrothed. I went directly to the 
famous see-saw that had been the silent witness of our 
momentous interview. 

" I had been lazily swinging myself for some quarter of an 
hour, when she appeared at the foot of the steep stops and 
seated herself beside me. Thia mterrva^ ^QvW\iaa^\«sssi^ 



24 WATWABD DOSIA. 

a solemn one ; nevertheless my young lady touched the earth 
Antaeus-wise with her foot, and up we went into the air. 

" * I am going this evening/ I stammered, as we swung. 

" * Yes, I know,' she answered lightly enough. * And 
when will you come back V 

" * That is for you to say,' I answered ; * you forbade me 
to speak to your mother.* 

" * Yes,' continued Clementina, with a thoughtful air, still 
going up and down; ' she would not like it at all if she knew 
that I was going to be married. She means me to wait 
until Liouba is married.' 

" I uttered an exclamation of despair. Liouba was the 
eldest daughter whose innumerable perfections had driven 
my aunt to the desperate resolution of letting her daughters 
grow up by themselves. * Liouba ! Good heavens ! you 
might as well talk of the Greek calends.' 

" * Do you think so V asked Clementina anxiously. * Well, 
then. Lucre tia at least." 

" Now Lucretia was twenty-three, and her left eye had 
contemplated her nose ever since she came into the world. 
* That is not much more encoui'aging,' I said, shaking my 
head disconsolately. 

" * Well, I'm ready whenever you like,' said my sweet- 
heart resignedly ; * to-day, if you choose.' 

" I reflected a little, and reminded myself that, before 
taking a step of such importance, I must consult my fafiily. 
*No,' I said, *not to-day, not quite so abruptly. We 
must not be hasty in such a matter. You will write to me, 
you know — at the Guards' Barracks.' 

" * Oh yes — that's understood,' was the girl's reply. 

" * But you will not let me go like this ! you will not send 
me away without one little kiss !' I said. 

" She looked askance at me. * You may kiss me,* she said, 
'ivLeu we have kissed the blessed images.' 



THE ELOPEMENT. 25 

*' This allusion to our solemn betrothals did not occasion me 
unmitigated joy. Nevertheless I kept my countenance and 
uttered a few words appropriate to the occasioa Clementina 
listened to me, still keeping the see-saw in motion. I was 
forced to swing in unison, and I fancy this exercise de- 
tracted somewhat from the force of my protestations. By 
degrees, howeyer, thanks to the bright eyes and pretty face 
of my little cousin, I felt my natural eloquence returning to 
me, when at that moment Clementina dropped from her 
elevated seat to the ground, leaving me somewhat dismayed 
by the suddenness of her departure. 1 nearly lost my 
balance, and when I too reached mother earth, she was no 
longer to be seen. 

"Two minutes later, my eccentric cousin was heard practic- 
ing her most lugubrious scales, and I thereupon abandoned 
all hope of a more serious conversation. I was mistaken, 
however ; and heaven had a surprise in reserve for me. An 
hour before dinner, when the household was enjoying a brief 
season of unwonted tranquillity, so unwonted that the poor 
governess two or three times went anxiously to look and 
make sure that no accident had happened, I was smoking 
my cigar under the verandah, when I suddenly heard sharp 
screams from the upper floor. 

" The governess disappeared. My aunt's voice was heard, 
calming the commotion by the formidable words, * This is 
altogether too much, miss, altogether too much 1' 

" Foreseeing a family difficulty, — a thing to which I have 
by nature a marked objection, — I discreetly withdrew and 
buried myself in the most secluded spot in the garden. I 
had walked up and down a shaded alley several times, and 
had met only a few snails airing themselves, when I heard 
hurried steps, the rustling of shrubbery, and my name called 
in a low voice by my prospective bride in person. I stopped, 
and cried * Here 1 * 



S6 WAYWABD DOSIA. 

" In a moment Clementina appeared quite out of breath. 
She threw herself pell-mell into my arms as she had done 
the previous evening ; hut as I stood in wholesome fear of a 
second box on the ear, I did not venture to draw her more 
closely to me. * Take me away ! ' she cried, bursting into 
tears. 

" I took out my handkerchief — she had lost hers — and 
dried her eyes. Useless trouble ! they were absolute 
fountains. When the handkerchief was wet through, she 
spread it on the bushes to dry, and her tears stopped of 
themselves. 

" We had reached a little mouldy kiosk which stood in 
the centre of the old labyrinth. 'Twas a kind of dish-cover, 
supported on fluted columns, which columns had long been 
quite overgrown by moss. The plaster peeled off in spots, 
exposed the bricks of this architectural deformity. A goodly 
number of frogs, annoyed by our intrusion into their peace- 
ful domain, hopped here and there in a great state of dis- 
turbance. Clementina, who disapproved of frogs, seated 
herself, Turkish fashion, on one of the stone seats fixed in 
the intervals of the columns, and carefully tucked her skirts 
about her. She looked like a little Hindoo idol, prettier to 
be sure than those we generally see, and had, unlike them, 
only two arms and one head. 

" * What is the matter now ? ' I said at last. 

" *My mother will certainly kill me with grief!' answered 
my cousin, beginning again to weep. 

" * I have not another handkerchief,' I observed, gently. 

" She dried her eyes on a flounce of her skirt, and grew 
calmer. * I am the most unhappy girl in the world ! ' she 
said, folding her arms. How she could sit in that way with- 
out tumbling over, still passes my comprehension. 

" * My mother is determined to make me die of despair ! * 
she went on to say. 



THB BLOPEMBNT. 27 

" * Wtat has she done now, my poor darling ? * I said, 
seating myself near her. 

" She tucked up her skirts more carefully, folded her arms 
again, and continued : * 'Tis a regular system ! The day 
before yesterday it was Bayard she found fault with ; to-day 
it is Pluto; to-morrow it will probably be you. She finds 
fault with all those I love,' sighed Clementina, raising her 
indignant eyes to the mildewed roof that sheltered us. 

"The association of Bayard, Pluto, and myself, was not 
altogether flattering; but the end of her sentence was a 
happy corrective. I showed my gratitude by a tender look, 
which Clementina returned by a violent shake of the head. 

" * Yes, this very morning they had the audacity to har- 
ness Bayard to the water-cart. Think of it — my dear, noble 
Bayard degraded in this way ! So I just said to him, " Ki, 
ki ! " and he let his heels fly until not one splinter was left • 
of that barrel and cart. I told you how it would be ! ' 

" I could not retain my gravity at the idea of the scene, 
of which I had been deprived by the painful necessity of 
packing my valise. Clementina, infected by my gaiety, 
showed her little white teeth in a radiant smile, and then 
resumed her serious air and her discourse. 

" * It was necessary, of course, for me to avenge this insult 
offered to Bayard. The coachman said that another and 
larger cart should be made, and in such a way that Bayard 
could not kick it to pieces ; that he should be harnessed to 
it so far from it that his heels could not reach it. He is no 
fool, that coachman,' she added, turning abruptly toward 
me. 

" * No, he is no fool,' I answered, in a tone of conviction. 
I had resolved to say ditto to her in all things. 

" ' But he is bad, thoroughly bad,' resumed my future 
bride, * since he has found a means of reducing my brave 
Bayard to a mere water-carrier I Aa 1 ^"aA!^^\ ^^\.'^t«\\ss&^ ^^ 



28 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

revenge. You know that I sleep in the same room with 
Lucretia 1 ' 

" * No, I did not know it' 

" * Well, I do ; and she detests dogs in general, and my 
dog Pluto in particular. So to-day, while she was taking 
her siesta on the bed, I went to find Pluto. I wrapped his 
feet in wool, and he let me do just what I pleased, sweet 
lamb, he is so good 1 ' 

" I had certain reasons for not adoring this sweet lamb, 
but I kept them to myself. 

" * Then,' she continued, * you should have seen Pluto in 
his boots going up the stairs. I held him by the collar, and 
whispered to him occasionally, gently ! gently ! He went 
into the room very softly. I pointed to my bed. He is so 
bright, you know, so intelligent, that he understood at once, 
and he jumped up. My sister moved a little, but she did 
not wake. All was right thus far, you see. I turned Pluto's 
face toward the other bed; I slipped a pillow under his 
head — no easy matter, I assure you ; I put a di'essing jacket 
on him, and threw a shawl over his body, and, after having 
taken oflf the wool from his beautiful, great black paws, I 
pulled them out by his side. You never saw anything so 
sweet ! Ah, if people were only as good as dogs, this world 
would be a much better place ! ' 

" I assented with a sign. She continued : * I gave my 
orders to Pluto, and went to the window with my work. As 
Lucretia seemed inclined to sleep for ever, I coughed gently, 
and then more loudly. She opened her eyes, turned over, 
and there in my place she saw Pluto's black face ; he looked 
at her and put out his tongue. Dear soul ! he was too 
warm, you see, under that shawl. How she did scream, to 
be sure ! ' 

" I laughed vociferously ; but my promised wife became 
rerjr serioua. ' Yeiflf, yes,' she said, it was funny, very funny j 



THE ELOPEMBNT. 29 

but mamma did not so see it, when she came in frightened out 
of her wits by my sister's screams. She ordered Pluto to be 
beaten. He jumped up, tore my jacket, growled, showed 
every tooth in his head ; and mamma finally decided to send 
him to our farm, fifty versts from here. To exile him, my 
poor Pluto ! And I, what is to become of me 1 They thrash 
Bayard, exile my dog, and you are going awiy ! * 

" She began to cry again ; and this time I said nothing 
about my handkerchief. I was really moved by the sincerity 
of her grief, although it was difl&cult to determine which of 
the three she most regretted, the horse, the dog, or myself. 
She suddenly jumped up from her seat, still holding her 
skirts well together on account of the toads. Her pretty 
feet, shod in narrow reddish-brown coloured little boots, 
looked like some dainty specimens of bronze work, as she 
deposited them on the pavement. ' Take me away I ' she 
cried. * I will not stay here ! ' 

" ' But, my dear — * I said. 

" * Take me away ! * she repeated, stamping her bronze 
boot. 

" * I can't take you away in a moment like that 1 * 

" * Run off with me ! In novels, young girls are run 
away with, and then they are married. You can take me 
to your mother ; she knows me well enough. Your father 
likes me too. Come, you must run away with me 1 ' 

« ' But, darling—' 

" * You will not ? Then you do not love me. 0, what a 
monster you are to deceive me in this way ! Very well ! I 
will never go into that hateful house again, where some one 
is always screeching, where there's always a quarrel going 
on, and where they find constant fault with me. I will go 
away by myself ! ' 

" * Where ? ' I said, calmly. 

" Her anger amused me, and -jet Wi'st^ ^^& ^MSvsjkS^^iKsss^ 



30 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

touching in it too. She seemed to have grown taller, her 
eyes had a certain fire in them, and an expression more that 
of a woman than of a child. ' There ! ' she said, stretching 
out her arm toward the river that lay sleeping in the sun- 
shine only a few paces away from us. 

" She uttered this one word so seriously that I shuddered. 
* No, darling ! ' I said, caressing her hand timidly. * No, I 
won't let you do that ! * 

" * Take me away then ! ' she repeated, turning toward me. 
Her face was very pale, and her eyes big with tears. She 
looked like a child in the sulks who is secretly anxious to 
make friends again, but yet desires a little preliminary 
petting. 

^* ' Ah, well ! ' I said, half mad, — ^for her caressing ex- 
pression and suppliant eyes had bewitched me, — ' I will run 
away with you.' 

" 'Thank you,' she said, dancing with joy. *This evening? 

** * Yes, this evening at eight o'clock.' 

" 'I will wait for you at the garden end. Leave just as 
usual, but stop your tarantass there. You will find me.' 

We were at no great distance from Petersburg : a matter 
of a few hours' posting. I told her that I would take her to 
my mother's at once. The die was cast — Clementina would 
assuredly be my wife. 

" She pressed my hand joyously, then pricked up her ears 
to listen : it was the dinner-bell. She blew me a kiss from 
her dainty finger tips, and disappeared, her skirts still well 
drawn up for fear of the frogs. 

" I cut a very foolish figure at this last dinner under my 
aunt's roof. I dared not look her in the face. She, on the 
contrary, had never been so overwhelming in her attentions. 
She even ordered that a nicely roasted chicken should be 
put into my tarantass. The idea of that chicken, to be eaten 
clandestinely with her daughter, inspired me with so much 



OLSHBNTINA. 31 

remorse, that each mouthful I swallowed seemed to choke 
me. My loss of appetite was so evident that my aunt 
ordered a big slice of pie to be added to the chicken, saying 
that I could eat both for my supper. 

"My betrothed watched the departure of the pie with 
delight, and actually had the audacity to wink at me as the 
servant carried it past her. The girl had no conception of 
the agony I was enduring. At last, evening and the hour 
of my departure arrived. My tarantass, harnessed to three 
post-horses, drew up with tinkle of bells and clatter of wheels 
before the door. My aunt gave me her blessing ; all my 
cousins wished me a pleasant journey. I climbed into my 
vehicle, and to the surprise of all ordered the hood to be 
put up, notwithstanding the beauty of the evening. I seated 
myself, the coachman touched his horses with his whip, and 
I left behind me the hospitable dwelling and its inmates, 
towards whom I was about to show myself so basely un- 
grateful" 



CHAPTER V. 

GLEMBNTINA, 



Peter Monriep here stopped and looked up and down the 
mess-table. Two or three officers, conquered by the wine, 
were placidly slumbering ; the others awaited with some 
curiosity the termination of the tale. Count Sourof had 
become very grave, and was looking Peter straight in the 
face. " I weary you," said the latter, innocently. 

" By no means," replied Sourof, calmly. " Go on, please.** 
" Ah ! I have you now. You will bear me witness, gentle- 
men and friends, that it was Sowxo^ \i\xiv^^l ^\>kSi\k^^l5l^^^«^ 



32 WAYWABD DOSIA. 

to continue. I told you so, if you remember. Make a note 
of it, please." 

" Certainly," they answered, all together. 

The young count smiled. " I say so again," he repeated ; 
" please go on." 

Peter replied by a military salute, and resumed his recital, 
after having turned his chair round and seated himself 
astride upon it. " I turned round the comer of the garden, 
as I had been told, and ordered my driver to stop. There 
was no one to be seen. For a moment I fancied that the 
elopement proposition had been only an amiable mystifica- 
tion of my charming cousin's, and I cannot say that I felt 
much distressed ; but I did Clementina great injustice. I 
saw her, presently, running down the path with a small 
bundle in her hand. She opened the little wicket leading 
on to the highway, and with one good jump reached the seat 
at my side ! 

" * Go on ! said I to the driver, a phlegmatic Finn who 
was half asleep. If, my good friends, you ever contemplate 
running away with a girl, I advise you to engage a Finn as 
coachman ; the Finns always sleep, they never see anything 
and they remember less. Possibly, you all know this as well 
as I, and my recommendation is needless. My driver shook 
himself, shook also the reins that hung loosely over the 
backs of the beasts, gave vent to a melancholy whistle, and 
we were of. 

" As soon as I saw ourselves well imder way, I turned 
to my betrothed. She handed me her little package. 

" * Put this away safely,' she said. 

" < What is it ? ' I asked, as I felt some roimd, hard objects 
through the cover, which was simply a fine cambric hand- 
kerchief tied by the four comers. 

" * Provisions for the journey,' she answered sententiously. 
k ^^I untied the Ziaiidkerchief, curioua to know what Clemen- 



CLEME2^INA. 33 

tina had selected. I found a long slice of black bread, cut 
in two and folded over on itself, with a little salt between, 
— and two oranges. The situation was so serious that I 
had no heart to laugh. 

"*I stole the oranges from the housekeeper, and the 
bread from the kitchen,' she continued. * I should have 
taken some sweetmeats, but I really did not know what to 
put them in.' 

" ' They would not have been very convenient to carry,* 
I observed ; * and then, we have no white bread.' 

" * Oh,' said Clementina, * sweetmeats can be eaten with- 
out bread, you know.' There was nothing to be said in 
reply to this, so I kept silent. 

" We rolled on, not very rapidly, it is true. Our horses 
seemed exhausted by a previous journey that day. It was 
a most extraordinary elopement, to be sure. Fancy for a 
moment a young girl carrying as her only luggage a cambric 
pocket-handkerchief, and borne by three horses who could, 
not go at a greater pace than a snail's walk. 

" * Faster, faster ! ' I said rapping the back of my Finn to 
rouse him from his peaceful repose. 

"*I can't, your honour,' he answered sleepily, as he half 
turned toward me. * The leader has lost a shoe, and the 
mare has gone lame for the last two years. They're sorry 
jades, your honour, and there's no getting them to go faster.* 

" There was evidently nothing to be done, and I 're-seated 
myself, much out of temper. Clementina laughed. * This 
is very amusing,' she said, * very amusing indeed.' 

" Remember that it was still broad daylight, and that we 
were constantly meeting the peasants returning from their 
work They lifted their caps, and stood looking after us 
with mouths and eyes wide open. Clementina nodded to 
them most graciously. 

"*But, my dear child,' I said,Svo\\\d"5o\x\^<&\\a»\ft\i^^'55»jgp5Clfl 

c 



34 VTAYWAnt) DOSIA. 

" * Oh, thcro is no danger ! ' she answered, shaking her 
head. * Do yon suppose that any one of these good people 
will go to our house to tell them that they saw me with you 
on the highway 1 Besides, it would only be taken as one of 
my foolish freaks, after all.' 

"This was certainly tnie. My kind aunt was so far from 
suspecting me, that, had any one told her that I was running 
away with her daughter, and that she had been seen with me 
on the road to Petersburg, she would not have paid the 
smallest heed to the information. This reflection seemed 
to degrade me in my own eyes. We were passing through a 
forest, not far from my aunt's residence ; there were no more 
peasants to be seen, the sun had set, and the song of the 
nightingale was heard. My Finn was sleeping soundly as a 
dormouse. I felt my spirits rise, and resolved to profit by 
the advantages of my position, 

" * Dear angel ! ' I said to Clementina, drawing nearer to 
her most cautiously. 

" Clementina was searching her pockets with evident dis- 
quietude. * What is it ? ' I asked, stopping in the midst of 
my exordium. 

" ' I have forgotten my purse,* she answered despairingly. 

" * That is of no consequence, child, how much was there 
in your purse ? ' 

" * Seventy-five kopecks,' (less than half a crown), she re- 
plied, turning her big anxious eyes full on me. 

" * That is not an irremediable loss ; and my mother will 
give you another purse,' I said consolingly. 

" * But won't my aunt Monrief be astonished ! ' cried 
Clementina, clapping her hands. * What a surprise it will 
be to her ! and I adore surprises.' 

"My mother likewise adored surprises, but I was by no 

means certain that the one I had now in preparation for her 

ivould be entirely to her taste. To get rid of these un- 



CLEMENTINA. 36 

comfortable doubts, I drew closer still to my pretty sweet- 
heart, aud cautiously slipped one arm round her. She 
was sitting up so straight that she did not preceive it. I 
then took her left hand in mine ; this she permitted, as I 
pretended to be lost in admiration of her rings. ' My dear 
little wife/ I said, * how happy we shall be 1 ' 

" * Yes, indeed,' she answered ; you will send for Bayard 
and Pluto, will you not 1 Mamma will certainly not refuse 
to let us have them.' 

" * Of course not.' I knew that my aunt would part with 
them only too gladly ; but I was not too highly delighted 
>vith the prospect of sharing Clementina's affection with 
these two animals. I continued : * We will spend our lives 
together, little girl, will we not? You love me, Clementina 1 ' 

" * Certainly I do,' she said in a compassionate tone. 
* That is the second time that you have asked me that 
question. How many times do you wish me to tell you the 
same thing ? ' 

" It was clear that my cousin and I had at that moment 
only one thing in common, and that was the carriage we were 
in. In other respects we were living in two distinct and 
separate worlds far apart from each other. I determined to 
burn my ships. I pressed my arm round Clementina's 
waist, drew her towards me and kissed her hair ; but as my 
lips were about to repeat the operation on her face, her right 
hand, which was unfortunately free, gave me so violent a 
slap on my cheek that my Finn awoke with a start, at the 
noise, and whipped his horses with much energy. 

" * Clementina,' I said, angrily, * this is the second time 
you have done that.' 

" * And whenever you are impertinent you will be treated 
in the same way,* she answered, as valiantly as a young game- 
cock, already experienced in fight. 

"'But,' said I, still exttemdy ^v&^V^^sj^^ ^'^^ ^ -i^Nsss% 



36 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

woman does not intend to be kissed even by her husband, 
she had best not consent to be run away with V 

" Clementina flushed a deep scarlet, whether from shame 
or anger, I know not. I' was by this time in a state 
of iast increasing rage, and I looked at her with indignant 
eyes. * One should not consent to be run away with,' she 
repeated slowly ; ' and it was for that, then, that you con- 
sented to take me away. Ah, well, it won't last long.* 

" She threw back the apron of the tarantass, and pre- 
pared to jump out, at the risk of breaking her neck. I held 
her back, not without difficulty. I held her not from ten- 
derness, as you may well suppose, but to protect her, and 
many were the scratches I got. She defended herself like a 
young lion and with surprising strength. At last, utterly 
exhausted, she threw herself back on the cushions. * I have 
only got precisely what I deserved,' she said moodily ; ' but 
it is nevertheless very disgraceful, and an honourable man 
would never be guilty of such conduct.' 

" I had drawn out my handkerchief, and was stanching the 
blood as it flowed from my scratches. I showed her the 
handkerchief with its dots of scarlet. * And do you think 
that a well brought-up girl is ever guilty of conduct like 
this 1 ' I asked. 

" * I am glad of it,' she answered vehemently, * and I shall 
do the same every time that you lay your finger upon me.' 

" * Every time ? ' 

" * Every time that you are so rude.' 

" * Then, my dear,' I said coolly, * it is hardly worth while 
for us to take the trouble to be married ; we can quarrel just 
as well without that.' 

" * I agree with you,' she answered. * Adieu ! I am going 
away. A pleasant journey to you ! ' 

"She was again about to jump from the carriage. I 
onlmed her with one word. * Go back \jo t\i^ liou^e^ I have 



OLKMBNTINA. 37 

foigotten something/ I said to my Finn, who was but half 
awake in spite of all this commotion. 

** He grumbled a little, but the promise of an additional 
rouble gave wings to the lame mare, and we rolled rapidly 
back toward my aunt's house, my cousin and I sitting sulkily- 
in opposite comers of our vehicle. 

" The corner of the garden was soon reached. I was about 
-to deposit Clementina in the place from which I had taken 
her, but she objected. * No,' she said ; * what would they 
think of me ? You must take me to the very door,' 

" * But if they should ask some explanations ] ' 

" ' You can say just what you choose ; the truth, if you 
wish.' Saying this she sank back in her comer. 

** The taratUass stopped before the great door,-to the utter 
amazement of the household who had all appeared at the 
sound of wheels. My aunt towered above the whole family, 
her height increased by her phenomenal thinness. * Good 
heavens ! Peter, what is the matter ? ' cried the poor woman. 

" ' My cousin escorted me on my way a little, and I have 
brought her back.* 

" Clementina hurried past them and ran up to her room, 
where she shut herself in to avoid her mother's reproofs. 
* She has given you a great deal of trouble, Peter,' said my 
excellent aunt. * Forgive her, for she has been very badly 
brought up, and is a mere child.' 

" * I have nothing to forgive, my dear aunt,' I answered in 
my most courteous manner ; * but it is certainly true that 
she is a mere child.' 

" Once more I started on my journey, with a heart as light 
as a feather. I fell asleep, and did not open my eyes imtil 
I entered Petersburg. You asked me what I did with my 
cousin when I eloped with her. I have answered your ques- 
tion, and if Plato has anything to say, I am ready to listen 
to his reproaches." 



38 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

Plato was Count Sourof s Christian name, a name suiting 
well with its owner's calm wisdom and joyous philosophy. 
"Plato has nothing to say," he replied. " Your story is ex- 
cellent, and you have amused us much. I vote that you 
shall be appropriately thanked." 

" And now let us have a game of cards," said the youth 
who had been the longest asleep. 

Cards and refreshments were brought, and the rest of the 
evening passed away as such evenings usually do. 



CHAPTER VI. 

REPENTANCE. 



The next day was a Sunday. Peter was still asleep, when 
Count Plato entered his hut, and seated himself at his bedside. 

The young officer yawned two or three times, stretched 
himself, and finally held out his hand to his friend. " My 
head is heavy," he said ; " I have slept too much." 

"Ah!" returned Plato, smiling; "I fancy that it is be- 
cause you drank too much last night." 

" I ! How can you calumniate in this way a brother 
officer as innocent as mother Eve 1 " 

" After her fall ? " 

" No, before." 

" Ah, well ! let us admit that you did not drink too much ; 
you will agree perhaps that you talked more than you 
ought?" 

" I ! " said Peter, sitting up ; " I talked too much ! What 
did I say ? Anything to be ashamed of? " 

"Not precisely. You told a certain story of an elope- 
mentj which, if it be true—" 



REPENTANCE. 39 

" Ah," cried Peter, " I spoke then of my cousin Dosia ! " 

"You spoke of a cousin Clementina! you were wise 
enough not to give the real name. But, my poor friend, 
you drew the portrait so well that any one would have 
known whom you meant. The girl must be very original." 

Peter, very much distm-bed, rocked to and fro, with his 
face hidden in his two hands. " Brute !" he cried ; " double- 
dyed fool ! But tell me, what did I say ] " Plato sketched 
in a few words the outline of the story of the evening 
before. 

" Ah," said Peter, quite satisfied, " I did not exaggerate in 
the least, there is some satisfaction in that. In vino Veritas, 
And you permitted me to make a fool of myself? eh, old 
Wisdom ? " 

" How could I stop a man who was excited by wine, and 
who was amusing himself by amusing others ? Your narra- 
tion was a great success." 

Peter*s brow cleared. One is never sorry to learn that 
one has had a success, even if one has no recollection of it, 
and even too if the success be due to means somewhat re- 
prehensible. 

" We must try to repair your heedlessness," continued 
Plato, seeing the good efiect of his discourse. 

" Yes ; but how 1 " 

Being agreed on the end, however, the young men soon 
devised means to attain it, and separated after another 
quarter of an hour. That same evening, after dinner, just 
as some of the officers were about leaving, Plato made a 
sign, and in came a bowl of flaming punch, smaller in 
dimensions, and more modest in pretension, than that of 
the evening before. 

"What is this for?" asked the officers of one another. 
At the same time they yielded to the attraction and lin- 
gered a while 



40 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

" It is to signify, gentlemen," said Plato, with a confused 
air, "that liiave lost my bet, and that I wish to pay it." 

" What bet are you talking about 1 " 

"Momief bet that he would narrate a little romance that 
would be as interesting as if written by some professional 
writer. I took the opposite side. He amused and interested 
us with the narration of a singiilar elopement. I lost, and, 
as I said, now pay my wager." 

" No, no," cried one of the young men, " you have not 
lost your bet, for I for one never believed a word of the 
adventure he concocted." 

" Nor I," said another. 

" Nor I," added a thiixi. " It was entirely too pretty to 
be true." 

This last reflection poured balm upon the self love of 
Monrief, which had been beginning to suffer. 

"And then," interposed a fourth, "what man would ever 
tell a story of himself wherein he played so ignoble a part ? 
One is more chary in talking about one's self." 

Peter exchanged a smile with his friend. The conversa- 
tion soon changed, and wandered farther and farther away, 
while the punch disappeared in the midst of general 
gaiety and good-humour. 

Our two young men, Monrief and the count, walked to 
their quarters that night together. The air was laden with 
a peculiar aromatic odour — that of the opening buds on the 
poplar-trees. This exquisite June night, clear and cloudless, 
almost without shadows, was not apparently provocative 
of mutual confidences, for they walked in utter silence 
until it was the time and place to separate. 

" Is your cousin Dosia really so unfortunately educated 
as you saidl" suddenly asked Plato, just as he entered 
his quarters. 

*^AAj my dear fellow^ it is impossible for me to remember 



PRINCESS SOPHIA, 41 

precisely what I said, but I am quite sure that I much 
understated the truth; it would be necessary for me to 
talk for twenty-four hours to give you any sort of idea 
of this fantastic young woman." 

"Fantastic she may be," answered Plato, smiling, "but 
she is certainly very original ; and that her instincts are all 
maidenly and pure is certain, notwithstanding her escapade." 

" Original certainly, maidenly most assuredly," answered 
Peter. ^* I have the best of reasons so to deem her," he 
added, as he rubbed his hand over his cheek, "Wisdom, 
your words are golden." 

" Good night," said Plato, extending his hand. 

" Good night," replied Peter, as he walked off with a 
light and agile step. 

Plato looked after him contemplatively, reflected for a 
few minutes, and then entered his little isha and went to 
sleep without wasting one moment longer in thought. 



CHAPTER VII. 

PRINCESS SOPHIA. 

Count Plato Sourof had a sister, Princess Sophia Koutsky, 
as reasonable and as sensible as himself. She had been 
guilty of but one folly in the whole course of her life, and 
that was in marrying at seventeen an invalid much her 
senior. She loved him devotedly, however, watched over 
him with the tenderest care, and had been left a widow at 
the end of eighteen months. 

" You have never made any mistakes, or committed any 
follies, my dear," the G^ and-ducUe&a ^ ^ ^V<5r& ^^- 



42 WAYWABD DOSIA. 

daughter she was, had said to her, " but it seems to me that 
you are now making amends for past abstinence." 

Sophia only smiled, and respectfully kissed her august 
godmother's hrind. A week later, Prince Koutsky, with a 
ray of happiness lighting up his face, emaciated and worn by 
fever and illness, led to the altar the woman who was ready 
to share his dreary life for the short time that it might yet last. 

" If Koutsky were rich I could understand it," said a stout 
colonel of artillery, endowed with about as much intelligence 
as one of his own cannon-balls ; " but he has not a kopeck. 
What can she see to like in a fever-stricken fellow like that ?" 

" Self-sacrifice," answered a pretty enthusiast of twenty, 
with great promptitude. 

The colonel bowed politely, and babbled some compliment 
or another ; but he had no idea what she meant, and he was 
not alone in his ignorance. 

Sophia Koutsky watched over her husband until the last 
moment. She laid him with her own hands in the coffin ; 
then assumed her widow's weeds, and continued the same 
tranquil, systematic life as of yore. 

It was in truth that thirst after martyrdom which is the 
especial note of great souls which had driven her to her 
strange marriage. She had loved Koutsky because he was 
ill and condemned to suffering and an early death ; she had 
seen a good work to be done in giving to this dying man the 
delights of a home, the happiness of an harmonious interior, 
and unwearied tenderness and devotion. If her husband had 
not taken his fever in Turkestan, in the service of his country, 
she might possibly have been less generous ; but under the 
circumstances she seemed to herself to be discharging her 
debt to her country, and to humanity at one stroke. 

When she doffed black for violet, she was asked what she 
meant to do. " Live a little for my own amusement," was 
t^e reply. 



PRINCESS SOPHIA. 43 

In fact, for three or four years she was seen everywhere 
where it was proper for her to appear alone. Thanks to the 
simple dignity that characterized her, and to quiet manners 
and appearance, her extreme youth had proved no obstacle 
to her liberty. 

Her family had at first spoken of the necessity of a 
chaperon, but the princess, without showing any annoyance, 
had quietly rejected the idea. " My chaperon," she said, 
" must be either an old lady tnily worthy of respect, — and 
in that case I must take care of her, and look out constantly 
for her comfort, which would of course clip my wings to a 
very considerable extent, — or a young companion whom I 
must drag about with me everywhere, but whose protection 
certainly would not amount to very much. "What would be 
the good of this ? No; let me live just as I am, and when I 
am guilty of any folly, we will discuss the question of a 
chaperon again and at greater length." 

This summary fashion of dismissing the proprieties had at 
first somewhat disturbed her relatives. But one said, 
"Sophia is so sensible," and another added, " So good," and 
the others accordingly soon ceased to occupy themselves with 
her affairs, and to interfere with her innocent little amuse- 
ments. 

Prince Koutsky had not left much property to his widow, 
but Sophia was rich in her own right, and her fortune per- 
mitted her to live thoroughly well Her principal pleasure 
in summer was going about from country place to country 
place in the vicinity of St. Petersburg, and spending a day 
with her friends. Sometimes she went to the camp to pay 
her brother a visit, for she loved this brother better than 
any other human being, and no one in the world understood 
her as well as he. 

Two or three days after the indiscretion committed by 
Peter Monrief, this charming Pi\\xa^«j^ ^o^^^^^ss^a^R* '%&^ 



44 WAYWARD UDSIA. 

Count Sourof. Her horses only could complain of her be- 
haviour, for she imposed on them long excursions ; but they 
were magnificent creatures, and the drive from Tsarsko^- 
S^lo, where she resided during the summer, to the camp at 
Krasnoe, was not too long for them. The princess passed 
the day with her brother, dined with him in his isha, and 
toward evening her carriage, with seats for four, was ordered 
up to the small wooden hut. 

Monrief was passing at that moment. His duties had 
kept him on the other side of the camp all day, and not 
knowing the princess, he had no idea to whom this equipage 
belonged. Curiosity, aroused by the perfect appointments 
of coachman and footman, horses and carriage, induced him 
to loiter. Sourof with his sister came out of the door. The 
refined beauty of the princess, her charming expression, air 
of distinction, and grace of movement, were a revelation to 
the young lieutenant. 

Sophia seated herself in her carriage, and her brother 
leaned against the door to talk to her. He saw the astonish- 
ment of Peter, who had turned for one more look at the 
beautiful woman, and smilingly beckoned to him. Monrief 
promptly obeyed the signal, and came to his friend's side. 

" My dear Sophia," said the count, " you are the best of 
women, and the wisest of your sex, yet you will not object 
to making the acquaintance of the most scatter-brained of 
all our young officers. This is my friend. Lieutenant Peter 
Monrief; and this, Peter, is my sister, the Princess 
Koutsky." 

Peter bowed profoundly. The princess looked at her 
brother and her new acquaintance. " Come with me a little 
way," she said ; " you will not object to the ^ alk back. I will 
take you two or three versts if you like." 

The two young men obeyed her mandate^ and the horses 
moved on at an easy trot. 



A WOMAN'S WIT. 45 



CHAPTER VIII. 



A woman's wit. 



"If there is no indiscretion in my question," said the princess, 
after the inevitable commonplaces had been disposed of, 
** will you tell me why my brother gives you such high 
promotion over your brother officers ?" 

"Ask him, madame," answered Peter, with a laugh. " If 
he likes to tell you, I will accept his reason." 

" You can tell my sister anything," said Plato, half jest- 
ingly and at the same time with evident pride. " She ought 
to have received the name of Silence at her baptism, for she 
never repeats anything she hears, although Sophia — Wisdom 
— suits her well enough." 

Peter bowed respectfully, still smiling. "Do as you 
please," he said to his friend ; " you also are wisdom itself. 
In fact, madame," he added, turning toward the princess, 
who was seated opposite him, " I have no right to be in the 
society of two such perfect individuals; I really am not 
worthy." 

" Tell me what he has done, Plato," said the princess to 
her brother. " All this humility, I suspect, is to escape some 
terrible confession. You are wrong, sir," she continued, ad- 
dressing Monrief ; " confession purifies the soul, and some- 
times suggests a method of repairing an error." 

" Ah, madame, I should never dare — " 

" I will speak for you," said Plato, who had his own plans. 
** Imagine, my dear sister, that, the other day, in order to 
celebrate worthily the twenty-third anniversary of his birth^ 
Lieutenant Monrief, here preaeut, «»:« ^\>\ji^ ^^\»N^^:^s^r 



46 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

" No, no, not tipsy," protested Peter, "only jolly at most." 

" Tipsy," repeated the count, firmly ; " but, as I was pre- 
sent on the occasion," he continued, " you may imagine that 
it was not very bad. But he was in high spirits, and insisted 
on relating at length the freaks of some young girl who had 
been badly managed from her babyhood, but whom T found, 
even from his description, to be very charming." Peter shook 
his head. 

"Come now," said Plato, "confess. She is charming, is she 
notr^ 

" Charming 1 Well — in theory, yes ; but — " 

" She has been badly brought up," interrupted the princess. 

" Frightfully." 

" But pretty, and of good family?" 

" Yes, princess, these are incontestable facts." 

"It is Dosia Zaptine," said the princess, after a few 
moments* reflection. 

The young men laughed. Peter bowed profoundly. 
" Madame," he said, " I render homage to your superior 
wisdom ; Solomon's pales before you." 

"But how on earth did you guess ?" asked Plato. " I did 
not know that there was such a person in existence, in this 
sublunary sphere at least." 

* There is but one Dosia in the world," answered the 
princess sententiously ; " and it was reserved to your friend 
to be her prophet. Now, gentlemen, if you wish to reach the 
camp in time for tattoo, you must lose no time, but say good- 
bye to me here." Two minutes later the carriage was vanish- 
ing in a cloud of dust, and the two young men were on their 
way back to the camp. 

" How the deuce did Sophia recognise this Mademoiselle 
Zaptine, and wherever could she have known her?" said 
Plato, 

Ob," answered Im compQuioti, \yy ^^^ ot couaolation. 



<"<■, 



CURIOSITY. 47 

" when OHO has seen her once, she is not easily forgotten. 
But, Plato, why did you never speak to mo of your sister V* 

" Does one speak of perfection ?" returned Sourof in the 
half serious, half bantering manner habitual to him. " We 
see it sometimes and are dazzled, but there is little to be said." 

"Very true," observed Peter, seriously. And they talked 
horses till the time came to separate. 



CHAPTER IX. 

CURIOSITY. 



Underneath his grave exterior, Plato concealed a vivid de- 
sire to obtain a more detailed account of Dosia Zap tine, and 
this desire became so keen that he took advantage of his 
first day off duty to call upon his sister. He found tho 
princess seated at a table, in a low Viennese chair. She was 
carefully dressed, and was reading a big book, the leaves of 
which she cut as she read. " You are most welcome," she 
said, as her brother appeared in the doorway; **I was at this 
very moment thinking of you." 

Plato approached, kissed the beautiful white hand she ex- 
teiided, and her smiling lips — (the princess wore no rouge or 
pearl-powder, so that her brother could kiss her without fear 
of consequences) — and then drew a chair to her side. 

The little drawing-room, hung with Persian silk of a pale 
green colour, was furnished with some carved chairs ; a 
mahogany table, antique in style, stood in the centre ; two 
comfortable arm-chairs invited the lazy or the weary, and a 
low sofa the luxurious; a mirror or two of the greenish tinge, 
common in the country houses at Tsarsko6-S61o, hung on the 
walls ; — such was the fumiUvr^ ol VKva \fiksAe»X»x^Nx'5»Xw ''^N^s^ 



48 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

whole atmosphere of the room was one of peaceful serenity, 
such as furniture alone is powerless to impart. Perhaps the 
masses of flowers, placed wherever there was room, added to 
this effect, or perhaps it was the tranquil grace of the princes? 
which alone achieved it. 

" Take this arm-chair." said Sophia to her brother. 

" And you T 

'* 0, I abhor easy-chairs ; they are good only for lazy 
people, or for travellers who come from their military en- 
campment to visit their dear sisters." 

Plato established himself in the most luxurious fashion in 
the pale green lounge. " They are excellent things, never- 
theless," he said, " particularly when one has been riding at 
least twenty versts on a hard trotter. But what are you 
reading ?" 

**Taine*s last work, On Intelligence^ 

"In two octavo volumes !" exclaimed Plato. "Ah, Sophia! 
you are positively exhausting with your wisdom. When you 
have finished with this book, though, you may pass it on to me." 

" Here is the first volume," replied his sister, quietly hand- 
ing it him across the table, and continuing to cut the pages 
of the one she held with a little ivory paper knife. 

" Why are you in such a hurry to accomplish that task ?" 
said the young man. " T really think that the most disa- 
greeable sound in the world is the rustling of stiiff paper." 

" I am in a hurry," answered Sophia, laughing, " merely 
because I want to finish." 

She ran over the last pages rapidly, and then laid the book 
on the table. " At last !" she exclaimed with great satisfac- 
tion. " Have you breakfasted T she then inquired. 

" No." 

" Will you have something V 

" When jou breakfast I can assist you nobly ; but I will 
wait until then.'* 



CURIOSITY. 49 

The princess rang, gave some orders, and then, taking up 
a piece of embroidery, resumed her seat. Plato followed 
her with his eyes. " I have known you some few years," he 
said smiling, " and yet you are to me a constant source of 
surprisa Is there ever a time that you are idle — absolutely 
doing nothing?" 

" Yes, when I am asleep," answered the princess gaily. 
"And yet, I dream sometimes. And you — tell me now, 
honestly, why you were in such haste to return my visit ] " 

" Because I wanted to see you," said Plato, playing with 
the tassels on a cushion. 

"Yes,— and?" 

The young man looked up and saw in his sister's eyes a 
peculiar expression. " Are you a witch, Sophia?" he ex- 
claimed, rising from his chair. 

** What, have I guessed this time ? " 

" You must tell me. If you are mistaken it will be very 
amusing, and I shall hail such a novelty with delight." 

"You came here to find out something about Dosia 
Zaptine," replied the princess calmly. " I foresaw your 
arrival, and have thoroughly informed myself. Ask me as 
many questions as you will, my answers are all ready." 

Plato, who was walking up and down the room, stopped 
before her and folded his arms. " Sophia," he said, " do you 
know that you are sometimes really terrific with your won- 
derful insight into men and motives." The count was more 
than half in earnest in what he said. 

" Terrific I Not to you, my wise brother," she answered 
laughingly. 

" Well, tell me ! " he said, going back to his easy-chair. 

" Put your questions, and I will answer them." 

" So be it. First, then, who is Dosia Zaptine ? " 

"Teodocia Savichna Zaptine is the daughter of a re- 
tired officer, a major-general, 'who d\^^ ^ovxX. ^^^ ^ri'xs'^ 



50 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

ago. She has several sisters, how many I do not exactly 
know." 

" But Peter Monrief can t6ll you/' interrupted Plato. 

" Can he really ? I respect him for his intelligence and 
arithmetical ability. I should not have supposed that he 
had it in him." 

" Oh," said Plato, kindly, " he can count up to six, and 
more when it is a question of petticoats." 

" You are really quite comforting," returned the lady, as 
undisturbed as usual. " Very well, let us say that Dosia 
has five or six sisters. Her mother was a Morlof, — a good 
family, as you know, and one of some fortune, without any 
male heir. Is this all you wish to know ?" 

" By no means. Now for the second question : Is the 
picture of her sketched by Peter correct ? " 

" As I do not know the picture sketched by Peter, I can 
only say that it ought to be exact and faithful, since I was 
able on a mere hint of it to recognise the original." 

The count admitted the justice of this remark by a silent 
gesture. Then he resumed, after a brief silence, **She has 
been, then, really very badly brought up ? " 

** She has, indeed. She is very good at the pistol ; her 
father taught her this accomplishment, and devoted a whole 
summer to her instruction. Dosia was at the time about 
ten, and an old military hat officiated as target. Her 
teacher is dead, but the hat still remains, and also her love 
for the sport I remember once seeing Dosia watering her 
sweet-peas, planted in a soup-plate, with the aid of this old 
hat, which was so riddled with holes that it answered the 
purpose of a watering-pot." 

Plato laughed heartily, and the princess did the same. 
" And what more ? " he asked, as soon as he was able. 

" What more ? Well, I hardly know. I have an idea 
that she has but an imperfect acquamtaxi^i^ Nq\t\\ g^eography. 



CURIOSITY. 51 

She asked me some questions about Baden-Baden, which led 
me to believe that she supposed that town to be situated in 
the neighbourhood of Niagara ; but I am by no means sure 
that she places Niagara in America. Blondin confused her 
ideas on these points to a very great degree. He was her 
hero at the time that the military cap did duty as a 
watering-pot. She seriously contemplated the practicability 
of crossing the Ladoga on a tight-rope, on horseback, you 
understand. She asked me if I thought it would be a 
difficult feat to perform. I told her that I thought her chief 
difficulty would be with her horse." 

"Bayard perhaps ? " 

" Ah, you know Bayard ! How is that V* 

*' Never mind ! But did she relinquish her project ?" 

"After several unsuccessful efforts upon a straight line 
drawn on the gravel, she was compelled to give up this pet 
idea ; but its relinquishment cost her a heavy pang. In 
history she is really remarkably weU informed : she has de- 
voured volume after volume in an excellent library of her 
father's, but these studies have failed to enlighten her on 
geography. She writes the four languages very correctly — 
Buss, German, English, and French. She plays well on the 
piano, when she chooses; but she does not often choose. 
She draws caricatures with wonderful ability, and is ab- 
solutely ignorant of the first rudiments of arithmetic." ' 

" Tis all of a piece ! " said the count, with a sigh. "But 
what sort of a person is her mother ? " 

" The most methodical woman in the world ; the most 
regular in all her personal habits ; out of health, thin, some- 
what despondent, as ignorant as a goose, and filled with the 
heartiest respect for, and faith in, the merits of foreign 
governesses. A rapid succession of these in some degree ex- 
plains Dosia's eccentricities." 

"And the other sisters 1" 




52 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

" They are all well enough, quiet, and a trifle pedantic. 
Impossible to explain these anomalies. A fairy certainly 
slipped into Dosia's cradle the day of her birth. If we 
should diligently seek for it, we might perhaps find it in the 
folds of her dress or in the braids of her hair." 

" But her moral character 1 " asked the count seriously, 
his eyes expressing the greatest anxiety. The princess 
laughed. 

" I think," she said, " that your friend has calumniated 
his charming cousin. If they have quarrelled it is certain 
he would come off second best, for Dosia has a tongue of her 
own. The child has the best of hearts, — not the goodness 
of heart which consists in giving to the right and the left 
everything that one owns, but she has a most generous 
nature, all the same. I have seen her, in times of fever, 
carry aid and succour to the sick peasants, without a thought 
of infection. I have seen her throw herself in the water to 
rescue a little urchin four or five years old, who had 
ventured too deep while bathing on the shore, and whom the 
current had caught. She swims like a fish, to be siu'e, but 
not habitually iir* walking costume, as she was when she 
saved the boy's life. She is good, truly good — as good," 
added the princess, laughing, ** as she is unendurable." 

" I can readily believe it," said Plato. " These natures, 
made up of contradictory qualities, are equally susceptible of 
good and evil. But still, how about her moral character, I 
ask again 1 " 

"Dosia is honour itself," added the princess. "She 
takes after her father." 

Plato had resumed his long strides up and down the room. 
His face was clouded, and he did not speak. 

" You know more about her than I do," said the princess, 

amining his countenance keenly. 

^ Yea; and it vexes me, for the child, in spite of all her 



CURIOSITT. 53 

faults, strikes me as very interesting." And Plato repeated 
to his sister the story told by Peter Monrief. 

"It is most unfortunate, certainly," said the princess; 
"but, after all, this indiscretion was the merest childish- 
ness." 

" Undoubtedly. Still," replied Plato, " to the man who 
proposes to marry her at some future day, such childishness 
becomes something serious." 

The princess made no reply. The matter, imder such 
circumstances, would certainly assume a very different aspect. 
Fortunately, breakfast was now announced, and the conver- 
sation took a different turn. 

The day passed away. At night, when Plato was about 
to niount his horse, his sister stopped him. " Are you 
curious to see Dosia 1 " she asked. 

Plato reflected for a moment. " Certainly," he answered. 
" She reminds me of a pet squirrel — funny, charming, and a 
little wild." 

" Very well ; the regatta takes place in six weeks. I will 
invite her, without her mother, and you will see her on her 
best behaviour." 

Plato took leave of his sister, and galloped toward the 
camp. "It is a great pity," he said, shaking his head 
pensively. " It is a great pity," he said a second time, a 
quarter of an hour later. 

Surprised at this persistency of the same thought, he 
questioned himself, and discovered that he was thinking of 
Dosia Zaptine. 



54 WATWABD DOSIA. 



I 



CHAPTER X. 

tsabskoe-siSlo. 

It is a long time since you saw your sister, it is not ? " asked 
Peter Monrief of his friend, two or three days after this visit. 

" No ; but why do you ask ? " 

Peter hesitated for a moment. " You must have given 
her a most singular idea of me, and one not altogether 
flattering ; and you said something about my cousin Dosia 
which would certainly tend to make her look upon me as a 
person of very small intelligence." 

Plato laughed. " Undeceive yourself, my dear fellow ; 
my sister never condemns people for such trifles as that. 
Besides, I do not think that she has a bad opinion of you. 
At all events, you can easily find out for yourself what she 
thinks." 

**How can I do that?" said Peter, his face suddenly 
covered with a bright blush. 

" By going to breakfast with her on Sunday. I ought to 
go, and you shall go with me. We will start early, before 
the heat of the day ; and you will have ample time to give 
her the full and entire history of all your wanderings from 
the narrow path wherein you should have walked." 

Peter, delighted, thanked his friend, but asked if the 
princess would excuse the dust of travel, and if it would not 
be taking a liberty, &c. Upon all these points he easily ao- 
cepted his friend's reassurances, being only too anxious to be 



TSARSKOE-SELO. 55 

Oount Sourof was extremely cautious iu the presentations 
he made to his sister. To very few of his comrades had been 
permitted the honour of approaching the beautiful Princess 
Koutskj. This reserve came from a natural respect for the 
proprieties. It was by no means becoming that a widow's 
house should be full of young men. In inviting Monrief to 
accompany him thither, the count had thus departed from 
his customary habits, and had he been asked why, the 
ordinary serenity of Plato would have been a little disturbed, 
and he might have found it a difficult question to answer. 
In reality, the count wished Peter Monrief to breakfast with 
his sister, trusting to her tact and penetration to draw from 
him further enlightenment as to his escapade with Dosia 
Zaptine. 

Dosia had insensibly become the theme of his day-dreams. 
The rumpled hair, the bronze boots, and laughing eyes of 
the girl floated before his vision as if he had known her. 
He thought of her with compassion and regret, as of a young 
animal brought up with care and tenderness, and stolen just 
as the time arrived when it began to do honour to its educa- 
tion. To be sure, he had never seen this intractable girl, 
but he pitied her, as though he had loved her from child- 
hood. He pitied her for having, at so early an age, 
committed a folly, which, later in life, she would long to 
blot out all memory of, at all hazards, and at all sacrifices. 

Sunday came, and the two young officers took their way 
in a barouche to Tsarsko^-selo, preferring to avoid the dust 
of riding. Plato was very silent ; Peter endeavoured to be 
equally so, but succeeded with great difficulty, for he was 
crfbzy to ask his friend all sorts of questions in regard to the 
Princess Sophia. Finally he could no longer contain him- 
self. 

" Your sister is witty and learned, I believe," he finally 
said to Plato ; ^* and I am so -frightfallY I^qy^x^" 



5G WAYWARD DOSIA. 

" If you are ignorant, my good fellow/' answered the other, 
composedly, " you may trust to my sister to complete your 
education. She will lend you books, speak not a word to 
you, and send you off with a hang-dog air, determined to 
improve yourself, and with a big volume under your arm. 
It is the custom of the house : I yield to it myself ; " and, 
lifting the skirt of his uniform cloak, Plato showed the 
volume of Taine's IrUelligence, carefully covered by a French 
newspaper. 

" She lent that to you ! " said Monrief eagerly ; " let me 
look at it.'' 

" Certainly ; you may examine it as much as you please. 
You may even read it : you won't imderstand a word." 

Peter opened the book in two or three different places, but 
soon returned it to his friend with a countenance so crest- 
fallen that it brought a smile to Plato's lips. " But," said 
the poor fellow, "the princess will look upon me as so 
pitiably stupid," 

"Oh, no," replied his friend; "you will soon understand 
each other. She doesn't think a man a fool because he 
can't take in straight off a book needing long preparatory 
studies. She's not a bit of a blue-stocking." 

The barouche drew up, and two minutes later Peter found 
himself seated, opposite his friend, in one of the two pale- 
green lounges, talking with the princess, and as much at his 
case as if he had known her for the past ten years. The 
heavy volumes and the paper-knife had disappeared, while 
a few modem novels had taken their places on the antique 
mahogany table. 

They breakfasted gaily enough. The shining silver, snowy 

linen, scarlet radishes, and sparkling glass ; the bouquets of 

flowers; the velvet eyes and white draperies of Princess 

Sophia, formed a most hannonious whole, where every colour 

iras toned down or well contrasted. TVie ^tmcesa thoroughly 



TSARSKOE-SBLO. 57 

understood the art of giving a picturesque look to her abode. 
Hence, perhaps, its indefinable charm, not to be found else- 
where. After a deal of lively conversation on subjects in- 
teresting to them all, living, as they did, in the same social 
circle, the heat of the sim having diminished, and it being 
now near four in the afternoon, the princess proposed a walk 
m the park. They entered it by the famous gate erected by 
Alexander I., on which is to be read on one side an inscrip- 
tion in Russ, in letters of gold, and on the other, in French, 
"7\) my beloved Comradei^ Immediately the freshness of the 
vegetation and the cool shade of the fine old lindens gave a 
new sense of enjoyment to the party. 

Leaving on the right the palace and the flower-beds, they 
penetrated to the shady avenues where the foliage is heaviest. 
The lake of which they caught glimpses here and there 
looked like an immense bowl filled with glittering, palpitat- 
ing quicksilver. The gilded cupola of the Turkish bath- 
house, standing on a slight elevation, bathed in sunlight, 
appeared before them for a moment as they turned into 
another avenue, which was so exquisitely cared for that it 
seemed some English toy. They seated themselves on a 
bench in a large circular opening, surrounded by a stone 
balustrade, where without doubt the Court of former days 
had assembled under Catherine to invent or to enjoy new 
pleasures and amusements, but which was now deserted and 
almost neglected. This spot had a certain melancholy 
grandeur: the trees appeared larger and older than else- 
where, and the very stones seemed to have a story to tell. 
Since the morning, the princess, Plato, and Peter had all 
three thought much of eccentric Dosia, who at that very 
moment, perhaps, was conscientiously blinding herself by 
looking at the Lake Ladoga and preparing some unwarrant- 
able mystification for some one. No one had yet uttered 
her name. 




58 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

" I should like a glass of milk," said the princess suddenly. 
" Is it far from here to the keeper's lodge ? " 

"A matter of ten minutes," answered her brother. 

" Would you then have the kindness to order some milk 
here : I am absolutely dying of thirst." 

Monrief rose hastily. "Permit me, princess, he said, 
"to go for it." 

She detained him with a gesture. "No, sir/' she said, 
with the charming grace which characterised her. " You are 
my guest. My brother will kindly take that trouble." 

Plato went off with long strides, and most willingly. He 
knew that his sister, alone with the young man, would lead 
him more readily to confide in her, and that on his return 
he should find Peter well started in his confession. In fact, 
his cap was still to be seen in the distance among the foliage, 
when the princess, half smiling, said abruptly to the young 
oflScer : " What has your cousin Dosia done to you that you 
have formed so low an opinion of her merits ? " 

" Done to me, princess ! " cried Peter. He stopped short; 
then, after a moment's reflection, added : " She came very 
near making me commit a folly of which I should have re- 
pented all my life long." 

" I adore follies," said Sophia, with her bewitching smile. 
"Tell me all about it" 

In the fewest posi^ble words, Peter told her of his cousin's 
escapade and return to the maternal roof. The princess still 
listened with a half smile. 

"Let us see, monsieur," she said to him, when he 
stopped to draw a long breath, for he had become both 
animated and angry during his narration; "if Dositi had 
been unwilling to return home what would you have 
done?" 

" I should have taken her to my mother, as I told her I 
would do ; and what a storm there would have been 1 I 



TSARSKOE-SKLO. 59 

really owe that crazy pate a debt of gratitude for having 
spared me that." 

"Your family, then, would not have approved of your 
choice 1 '* 

** By no means. But you, princess, you who know her, 
can well realize that she would not be an agreeable addition 
to any family." 

"I cannot judge of that," answered Sophia. "For my 
part, I consider Dosia simply delicious, with all her faults. 
I could bring her very quickly to reason, could I have her a 
year with me. To be sure, I cannot marry her," she added, 
laughing, "and that fact of course changes the question 
entirely." 

" Nor shall I marry her either, thank heaven ! " cried 
Peter, raising his eyes to the blue sky in a transport of grati- 
tude. 

" But tell me, sir : suppose your family had refused their 
consent? It seems to me too that your cousin Dosia is 
within the degrees forbidden by the church." 

"As a matter of fact I had considered that," answered the 
young man. " Ah, well ! I should have been compelled to 
send in my resignation, and we should have got married 
abroad. There are arrangements to be made with heaven ! ' 

" You would have run a great risk." 

" But how could I avoid it, madame ? I must have married 
her if I had run away with her." 

" You would really have married her after all ? " said the 
princess, slowly. 

Peter looked at her in astonishment. " But I ran away 
with her," he said, simply. 

The princess made no reply. She was silently enjoying 
the rare pleasure of contact with a nature that was absolutely 
without guile. " And yet you were not madly in love with 
hert" she at length observed. 



60 WAYWARD D081A. 

** No ; frankly, I was not. I had not that kind of affec- 
tion for her. And now, as I look back on the occurrences of 
that day, I realise fully that much more is needful than 
beauty and wit to inspire a real passion/' 

" Ah, you have made that discovery ! " said the princess, 
smiling. 

Peter kept silence, and blushed somewhat. Fortunately, 
Sophia forgot to ask how recent had been this change in his 
idea, or what had caused it. 

" And yet you would have married Dosia all the same, 
although you knew that she could not make you happy ? *' 

"But, princess, what else could I do after I had eloped with 
her ? *' he repeated for the third time. 

Sophia extended her hand to the young officer. " You are 
a man of honour," she said. "But," she added, turning 
away, " thank heaven that you were not driven to that 
extremity. It is well for her and for you that matters ter- 
minated so abruptly, for if she is not the wife of your dreamS} 
you are still less the sort of husband whom she should marry." 

" On what unfortunato fellow, then, may I ask, do you 
bestow the honour of that eccentric young woman's hand 1 " 

" Ah ! you will see,"" said the princess, with her enigmatical 
smile. " I do not quite know yet ; but to take that trouble- 
some bark into a safe haven, a wiser pilot than you is needed, 
of that I am certain." 

Plato here appeared, followed by a peasant with milk and 
glasses. The party refreshed themselves, and the princess 
rose to continue her walk. " You are quite sure," she said, 
addressing Peter, "that Dosia's return to her mother cost 
you no pang ? " 

" On the contrary, madame, the greatest possible relief — 
the deepest joy ! I never slept so well in my life as I did 
that night." 
I ^'The happy prerogative of an eaay (ionscienoe/' said the 



PETER 61 

princess, turning to her brother. "You see before you, 
Plato, a man to ivhom remorse is unknown. Admire him ! " 

"Ah, princess," sighed Peter, " if you only knew the relief 
I experience still, when I think of the danger I so narrowly 
escaped." 

Thus jesting, they took their way home, all three quite 
happy, but from very different reasons. The princess was in 
a particularly genial mood ; she spent her whole life seeking 
the society of good and honourable natures ; and when she 
found them — which was not very often — her heart sang a 
glad hymn of praise. To-day her hymn was especially 
melodious. 

Sophia exchanged a few mysterious words with her brother 
aside : we kno.w not what they were, but the latter hummed 
opera airs all the way back to camp, while Peter silently sat 
in a comer, smoking cigarette after cigarette. 



CHAPTER XI. 

PETER. 



The two young men were often to be seen at the princess's. 
This charming home of hers exercised a strange fascination 
over Lieutenant Monrief, and caused him to neglect all his 
former pleasures. The theatre alone still amused him, but 
he had become difficult to please even there. One fine day 
he made the discovery that the ballet was a bore. 

Fortunately the camp broke up about this time, and Peter 
was established, after a week of great fatigue, once more in 
his old quarters in the city. As Sourof had predicted, the 
princess had lent him books, and he who formerly could not 
endure the sight of them, now read with extrGfti:dvas«c^ 



62 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

avidity. Delighted with this change in himself, and without 
realising that it was caused by the Princess Sophia, and by 
the pleasure he derived from discussing literature with her, 
the young oflScer decided that his wild oats were all sown, and 
that in future his aims in life would be more serious. Still, 
as he looked about him, he saw that his brother officers of 
about his own age were still sowing their crop with double 
handfuls, and one morning he asked himself on waking why 
lie went so often to see Princess Koutsky. 

" I must weary her to death," he said in dismal tones ; and 
he suddenly took the desperate resolution not to inflict upon 
the lady his unwelcome society. His heart sore with this 
resolution, which, however, no man had asked of him, he pre- 
pared himself to indite a courteous little note to accompany 
the books she had lent to him, — when providence, that 
dispenser of both good and evil, reminded him that this was 
the day of the regatta, and that he had promised the princess 
to pass the day with her and Plato. 

" I must wait until to-morrow, then," he said, with child- 
like delight. " One more happy day ! and as she invited me 
herself, it is plain that, on this occasion at least, I am no 
intruder. Besides, I believe she will have people there." He 
was a truer prophet than he fancied. 

As the lieutenant entered the house of the princess, about 
one o'clock in the day, dressed with the greatest possible 
care, he met his friend Plato, who said to him in a bantering 
tone, but with a slight quiver on the lips indicating some 
repressed emotion : — " Look here ! great joys are often 
dangerous. My sister has had an idea — I do not know what 
you will think of it. I fear that — " 

" Go on ! " cried Peter impatiently ; "we are standing in a 
draught that is enough to take oiu* heads off." 

" These are the facts, then, my boy : my sister rejoices in 
peace and harmony, and wishes them to reign over the earth 



PETER. 63 

with horns of plenty in each hand. Not heing able to 
accomplish this to her entire satisfaction as regards the 
great empires of the earth — " 

" What stuff you are talking ! " interrupted the lieutenant 
for the second time. " If you have really nothing better to 
say to me, I shall bid you good morning." 

" No, stop ! I have finished. My sister has relinquished 
all aspirations, therefore, for the good of the general public, 
and bestows her attention now on individuals. She knew 
that your cousin Dosia and yourself had separated in wrath, 
and that you were still at swords' points, and therefore she 
determined to hold out a helping hand, and consequently 
invited her here for the regatta." 

" Dosia ! Dosia here ! " exclaimed Monrief, falling on his 
cavalry cloak that he had thrown on a chair in the halL 

"Yes, in the drawing-room. But come, my sister is 
waiting for us ; she saw you pass the windows, and wonders 
probably at our long delay.'' And Sourof, half laughing and 
half anxious, almost dragged his reluctant friend into the 
drawing-room with the pale green hangings. 

Dosia was really there, seated in state in the centre of the 
large Bofa, her skirts filling up the space on either side. She 
was as erect and inflexible as a wax candle, immovable as a 
statue, and as solemn as a baby waiting for its soup. 

Four or five ladies, carefully chosen for the occasion from 
those who have ears but hear not, and eyes but see not, made 
a frame for this pretty picture. Sophia had carefully 
arranged everything ; she promised herself vast amusement 
from the meeting of the former lovers, and she was not dis- 
appointed. 

*'Ah, princess, this was not well done," murmured the 
young officer, bowing over the hand graciously extended to him. 

" Nonsense ! It is a thing that must have happened 
sooner or later," she answered with tea \\i^\^^t^\!>!Vi -^scct. 



I 



64 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

This was certainly true. Peter bowed respectfully to 
Dosia, who nodded her head in return in a ceremonious and 
dry fashion. Plato, lounging in the doorway, looked on with 
some imeasiness. Peter accepted the fortune of war. He 
drew a chair towards the girl, seated himself, and opened a 
conversation. 

"You have been quite well, cousin, I hope," he said, 
'* since I last had the pleasure of seeing you." 

" Thanks," she answered, " I have taken cold," and she 
coughed a little, and continued to turn over the leaves of an 
album on her knee, without lifting her eyes, 

" And my good aunt has not been ill, I trust 1 " 

" No, thanks, not more ill than usual." 

Peter could no longer restrain himself; his mischief 
loving nature could not be kept within bounds. The stupid 
people about him inspired him with a violent desire to 
commit some wild folly. He leaned toward his cousin, and 
said, in a low voice : " You were not punished for your last 
escapade, were you 1 " 

" No, I was not ; I have kept my horse, and my dog 
sleeps at the foot of my bed, and I have a room to myself 
now." 

" That is quite advisable, I should think," returned Peter, 
" if you have taken your dog to sleep with you." 

*' And I do in every respect precisely as I choose now," 
she continued angrily. 

" That you always did more or less," answered her cousin. 
" But [ am glad to learn that you are progressing in the right 
path. And how about your music 1 " 

The princess, who was watching the pair at a distance, out 

of the comer of her eye, saw that war was about to begin, and 

hastened to summon Peter to her side, while Plato took the 

chair he vacated. Dosia became grave and calm once more; 

the bright colour sent to her cheeks by anger subsided, and 



THE REGATTA. 65 

her sweet face resumed its wonted expression of childlike 
mischief and drollery. 

'* Wait, Lieutenant Monrief," said Sophia, unable to repress 
her laughter ; " wait until we have had a cup of chocolate. 
Never renew hostilities during an armistice. You will have 
plenty of time to quarrel ; you have a long day before you." 

"She is utterly intolerable with her perfect self-satis- 
faction,'' muttered Peter. 

**But you began." 

" I acknowledge it. But she shall not have the last word.*' 

"Do not forget," said the princess, "that she is my guest. 
Out of regard to me be patient." 

" Out of regard to you, princess, I will do anything you 
ask of me," said Peter eagerly, as he looked into the lovely 
eyes which were meeting his. 

" Thank you ; and remember that I count on your keep- 
ing your word," said the princess as she turned away. 

Chocolate was served, after which the party went off to 
the lake where the regatta was to take place. 



CHAPTER XII. 

THE REGATTA. 



The flotilla at Tsarsko6-Selo is a very curious thing. It has 
its admiral, and an admiral who is no fresh-water sailor 
either, but an old salt. This position is generally filled by 
some naval officer, thus rewarded for some brilliant act 
which has incapacitated bim for active service. The Tsar- 
sko^^lo fleet consists of a model of every kind of light 
floating thing employed in any part of the empire. Every 
imaginable style is to be seen, — ^tte ^\^^^mi\> •]pod.f«ww^^*^e»a. 



I 



66 WAYWARD DOSIA. . 

mahogany perissoire, the yonyon^ the regular peniche, and 
even the flat-bottomed barge, wherein the most cautious 
mamma never hesitates to put her foot Then there is the 
Esquimaux boat, made of a hide ; the Chinese junk, and the 
long, narrow Kamschatka bark ; also the slender pirogue, 
keeping its equilibrium only by the aid of its oars. 

The original models, brought at vast expense from the 
most distant comers of the empire, are preserved in a 
museum, a museum stored in an ugly old building of dark- 
red brick, flanked by two round towers, but copies of all 
the models are at the disposal of persons interested in such 
matters. One can at all hours of the day embark in any boat 
one chooses, and sail for an hour or so on the limpid waters 
of the lake. This is a free amusement, too, although the 
generous visitor may, if he like, recompense the sailor who 
guides the boat, or the men who row for him in the hot sun, 
away from the silken awning which is put up for the protec- 
tion of fair women and smartly dressed oflicers. 

It was this strange and varied flotilla which was to fur- 
nish the vessels to compete in the regatta. Two separate 
classes had been formed of sailing and rowing boats, and 
that was the only attempt at arrangement. 

The grand dukes ventured to race with sailing vessels, but 
ordinary mortals were content to enter themselves for the 
rowing matches. The younger officers had put down their 
names for the races between the podoscaphes and the perisr 
soires, — ^races which invariably had a certain comic element on 
account of the inevitable accidents arising, and the odd 
management of the paddle. 

When the princess and her party arrived on the shores of 

the lake, they found a well-dressed crowd, composed of all 

that was most elegant in the society of Tsarsko6-S61o and 

the neighbouring town of Pavloosk, already assembled there. 

St Petersburg and its environs had also contributed their 



THB REGATTA. 67 

quota to swell the number of spectators. The humbler on- 
lookers, who were not very numerous, had instinctively 
grouped themselves in the least desirable localities, where 
they commanded but a small portion of the course ; while 
the nobles and great magnates of finance drew near the 
imperial stand, where some members of the Emperor's family 
presided over the sports. 

Carpets and velvet seats were there arranged, and on the 
wide marble steps leading from the stand down to the lake 
were seated the ladies in waiting, in fresh summer costumes, 
oflScers in glittering uniforms, and pages gaily dressed ; 
while stout generals breathed quickly under the weight of 
their tight uniforms and heavy epaulets. It was still the 
court, but the court in rustic garb, with relaxed etiquette, — 
the court at home, so to speak. 

Princess Sophia had engaged seats near the stand, and her 
friends formed a body-guard about her. The signal was 
given, all sorts of sails were unfurled, and clearly discerned for 
a few moments against the blue of the sky, then disappeared 
behind the heavily wooded island lying in the middle of the 
lake. A glimpse of them was caught again through an 
opening, but no sooner were they seen than they disappeai'cd 
once more. 

Every eye was fixed in eager anticipation on the point 
round which the rival sails would first appear. A wi.ite 
peniche emerged first, and was directed toward the sliore : 
with magnificent audacity, the grand duke, who held the 
helm, ran the boat so close in shore that he had a nniTOw 
escape of grounding, but achieved his end safely, consider- 
ably in advance of the others. A cry of admiration, which 
respect almost immediately suppressed, arose from the specta- 
tors, and a second after, the sound of a cannon announced 
that the young victor had gained the first prize. 

** Nothing wonderful in that,'* grvmiVAa^ ^ ^^'s&xsssv^^ 




68 WAYWARD DOSTA- 

"when a man has the luck to be born High Admiral of 
Russia." 

" Still you must fit yourself for the post," answered an op- 
timist. 

The military band struck up a joyous march, and the 
second race began. It was a glorious day — ^too glorious, for 
the sun, reflected in the mirror of the lake, was almost 
blinding, notwithstanding awnings and silk umbrellas. 
Dosia alone seemed unconscious of this annoyance, being ab- 
sorbed in the spectacle before her, drinking it all in, as a 
young plant drinks in a summer shower. 

" How I should like to have won that prize ! " said the 
girl to the princess, in a whisper. 

" So as to have the silver cup ? " 

" No ; merely to have felt that I had so well managed the 
helm. I think it must be very amusing, and I mean to 
have a peniclie in the countiy." 

" Why not a steamboat?" whispered Peter in his cousin's ear. 

The girl turned quickly round with flashing eyes, and her 
hand moved slightly. Assuredly, three months before, 
Peter would have suffered the affront of a public box on the 
ear ; but Dosia had tamed down somewhat since their last 
stormy interview, and this time he escaped. He expected a 
blow, however, and drew hastily back, whereat Dosia burst 
out laughing, and felt herself sufficiently avenged. 

The regatta concluded with great satisfaction to the 
spectators. The imperial family returned to the palace, and 
the lake was soon covered with a fleet of small boats. The 
princess ordered for her party the large pirogue which would 
hold a dozen persons ; the young men took the oars, Dosia and 
the princess followed their example, and the merry party 
rowed up and down the lake now rippled by a gentle breeze. 

" Good heavens ! Peter," cried Dosia impatiently, " how 
wretchedly yon row I " 



THB BEGATTA. 69 

"My dear and much-honoured cousin," replied Peter, 
" every one has not, like yourself, the same happy predilec- 
tion for boyish sports." 

Dosia looked askance at him for a moment, and thei)| 
guiding the boat dexterously with her oar, said : " That is 
quite true ; I ought to have been a boy ; how amusing it 
would have been ! Just think ! I should in that case have 
been commanded to do precisely the things that I am now 
ordered not to do. It is gross injustice ! " 

Every one laughed. Even Plato, who had looked at the 
shining lake so long that he had a violent headache, could 
not restrain a smile. Dosia applied herself with such amaz- 
ing energy to her oar, and sent the pirogue so rapidly through 
the water, that the task of those who aided her became a 
very serious one. 

" Stop 1 '* she cried presently. 

And they rested on their oars. The scene was certainly 
a singular one ; the shores of the lake were literally crammed 
with spectators ; all the seats were occupied ; toilettes the 
most varied in style and colour were thrown out in bold 
relief against the green turf and the dark green trees already 
slightly changed by the coming of autumn. The air was 
wonderfully pure, and yet a slight haze hung over the distant 
hills, lending an additional if somewhat melancholy charm 
to the fleeting beauty of the day. 

But if the princess and her brother exchanged a look 
wherein each read the thoughts of the other, Dosia was not 
at an age when one thinks of autumn or even of to-morrow. 
She was gazing at the shore, at the Turkish bath-house, past 
which the pirogue was slowly drifting. She was looking 
with admiration at the Bengal rose-trees, at the cascades, 
and at the graceful marble bridge with its open sides, — at 
all the beautiful details that make up the harmonious whole 
of Tsarsko^S^lo. She was gazing at the eU^^jyx^^ ^x^^kss^- 



70 WAYWARD D08IA. 

guished-looking crowd. She saw salutes exclianged, and 
people stopping as they met for a brief chat. " And this is 
society," she said slowly. " How I should like to be in it^ 
and of it 1" 

" You must be well brought up to go into society," said 
Peter, in a low tone. He was seated next her. 

He fully expected a sharp answer ; but to his great sur- 
prise Dosia sighed. It was a sigh of regret rather than of 
contrition ; but one must go by steps in these matters. She 
resumed her oar. 

After a moment's silence the girl turned her head toward 
the princess, without ceasing to use her oar. " Is it true, 
princess," she asked, " that I have been so very badly 
brought up ? " 

She spoke in a low tone, and the princess sat next her. 
Sophia answered in an equally low voice, "No, my child; 
not so badly as you now think. Badly enough, however, I 
must say." 

"It is a great pity," sighed Dosia; "but how can that 
prevent me from finding amusement in society like other 
girls 1 You know that mamma is to bring me out this 
winter." 

" But it will prevent you, my dear, if you do not change. 
But have no fears ; three months from now you will be — " 

" More endurable," muttered Peter, bending over his oar. 

Dosia said not a word to this new impertinence, and her 
cousin was beginning to feel somewhat anxious and uncom- 
fortable at this unwonted reserve when they reached the 
shore. Plato first slipped from the boat, and offering his 
hand to each lady in succession, disembarked her in safety. 

Dosia alone lingered behind with Monrief, who was busy 
taking an oar out of the water, — a task of some difiiculty, 
since, not having been born an admiral, he lifted it with the 
jb/ade £at instead of sidewfiys. 



THE RBGATTA. 71 

" Can you swim, cousin 1 " she said gently, as she gathered 
up her dress in her left hand. 

"Certainly I can," answered Peter. 

" Ah, well, now is your time ! " she cried, as she at one 
bound cleared the boat and reached the shore, without 
touching Plato's pffered hand. She instantly turned round 
with the quick, flashing movement of a kitten running after 
its tail, and pushed the pirogue from the shore. 

Peter was standing ; the shock threw him on one knee ; 
he caught at the edge of the boat, or he would have been 
thrown out. Ho looked for the oars, but could find only one ; 
the others had been handed to the boatman at the landing- 
place. He folded his arms, and looked disdainfully toward 
the party on shore. 

" Well," cried Plato, " do you intend to pass the night on 
the lake 1 Shall I send you a guitar?" 

" Send me rather a steam-tug," answered Peter, lifting his 
solitary oar as a sign of distress. 

Dosia, with her head a little on one side, contemplated 
her work with evident satisfaction. The princess was an- 
noyed, but the others laughed. 

Plato looked at Dosia with an ever-growing conviction 
that Peter had hidden nothing, and that the girl was a mere 
child. " It is impossible that she could thus trifle with a 
man who had ever quickened the pulsations of her heart ; it 
would be the lowest depth of impudence," said the count 
to himself. And he was so intensely gratified by this idea 
that his headache left him by degrees. As his doubts dis- 
appeared, his sufferings diminished, and he began to feel as 
light as a feather. 

There was no boat at hand which could be sent to the 
relief of the unfortunate Peter, who was now drifting slowly 
toward the island — the deserted island, alas ! — in the centre 
of the lake, when, happily, a poc?oscapA,e^ \svvva5\«^<i\ \s^ v>ks& v^ 



I 



72 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

his brother officers, " hove in sight,"— to use an appropri- 
ately nautical term. 

" Are you a new Columbus or a wrecked mariner ? " cried 
the new-comer. 

" The latter, my dear fellow, as hopelessly wrecked as ever 
man was. Tow me to the shore, please ; there's a reward." 

" As for a lost dog 1 Here," said the young officer gaily, 
" take the end of my handkerchief, and I will convey you to 
port." 

In such fashion did they attain the landing-place, not 
without a series of manoeuvres, which caused much amuse- 
ment to the onlookers. As his foot touched solid earth, 
Peter bowed to his cousin with all the profound gratitude 
that was due to her. 

" You see," she said, with a slight shrug of her shoulders, 
" that I was right" 

"Right?" asked Monrief; "and in what respect 1" 

" Right in thinking that, man as you are, you could not 
reach the shore without assistance. Had I been in your 
place, I shoidd have swum to land." 

'^Thanks, cousin; such amusements may be to your taste, 
but I have no fancy for them," replied the young man, 
piqued by her disdain. 

** Come, children, do not quarrel any more," said the 
princess. " Must one always be trying to make peace be- 
tween you 1 " 

" By no means," cried Dosia ; " for peace between us for 
any length of time is an impossibility. We have quarrelled 
from our infancy ; we have never been able to endure each 
other — " 

A glance of malicious meaning from Peter here arrested 
the full torrent of Dosia's words. She coloured furiously, 
and then hastily added, with her natural honesty and love of 
trutli : '^For a,nj Jength of time, I mean," 
And Plato'a iieadache returned. 



dosia's qoyebneiss. 73 



CHAPTER XIII. 



dosia's governesses. 



It was an hour after dinner. Conversation languished ; the 
princess proposed to return to the park, and the suggestion 
was eagerly accepted. The ladies who had come from St. 
Petersburg for the day, were escorted back to the station, 
and the four remaining persons, Sophia, her brother, Peter, 
and Dosia, strolled towards the big linden-trees, which 
smell so deliciously during July, and whoso heavy shade is 
so acceptable throughout the whole summer. Plato and 
Dosia walked on in front. The latter was ever striving to 
keep as far as possible from her cousin, whom she hated 
cordially for the moment. 

"Mademoiselle Theodosie," said the young captain, "what 
do you think of our Tsarsko^ 1" 

"It is charming," answered the girl; "but unless you 
wish me to modify my opinion, don't call me Theodosie. It 
is not my fault that I was christened with that odious name, 
and I do not see why I should be punished for a fault which 
is my parents', and not my own." 

" But it is not an odious name," answered Plato, politely. 

" It is a name for a chambermaid, and I do not like it. 
Call me Dosia." 

"Very well! Mademoiselle Dosia, do you like being 
herel" 

The yomig rebel hesitated, '^^^^^ — w>A T^^i"* ^<^ ^as^^ ^i^» 



74 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

last. " On the whole, then, no — there is not liberty enough 
here." 

" And yet you wish to go into society ! That is ten times 
worse." 

" You think so. But there are certain compensations I 
fancy." 

" Very few, as you will soon discover. But I am wrong 
in thus disturbing your illusions in advance, you will lose 
them soon enough when the time comes." 

** That is precisely what my English governess said. You 
know that I had an English governess? " 

" No, I was not aware of it. What do you say that this 
lady told you ?" 

" Oh, dear Miss Becky ! You never saw anything so droll 
as she was. Picture to yourself, count, a tall, tall creature, 
thin to a degree and angular in proportion. Every new 
dress she wore looked as if it were a century old. She tor- 
tured her hair into curls, and directly after they hung 
straight about her face. Enormous red ears, in which 
dangled long Vesuvius lava ear-rings ; and white teeth, as 
long as her ear-rings. My dear Miss Becky, I adored her!" 

" For how long 1" 

" For two whole summers. Mamma engaged her for the 
Bimimer. She was to teach us English, to converse in 
English, you understand; but as she was determined to 
learn French herself, rather than teach us English, I amused 
myself by instructing her in the language of diplomacy." 

" She improved, then 1 " 

" Immensely," answered Dosia, with her rippling laugh. 

" What did you teach her 1 " 

" Oh, little songs that my French governess had taught 
me ; * Little Red Riding Hood,' * Master Crow,* and so 
But I changed the airs. She sang * Master Crow * to 

mr of ^Little Bed Riding Hood •/ aud the expression of 



me 



dosia's governesses. 75 

her face, with her eyes rolled up to the heavens above, was 
simply delicious !" and Dosia laughed a contented little 
laugh indicative of intense enjoyment. 

" I can see that Miss Becky learned something of you,** 
said Plato, smiling ; " but what did she teach you 1 " 

"Oh, a host of things," answered Dosia, with great 
gravity ; " * Old Robin Gray,' the art of making landscapes 
with bread sauce and stumps — ^you know what I mean? 
No 1 Well, then, you daub the paper all over, and then work 
in your lights by rubbing off the black with bread crumbs. 
'Tis so funny." 

« But what else 1 " 

" Oh ! morals and philosophy — and English synonyms. 
That is about all." 

" It is something, certainly," answered Plato, with diffi- 
culty preserving his gravity. " And your French governess, 
for what are you indebted to her ?" 

"She," answered Dosia, shaking her head sagaciously, 
" she was a regular revolutionist. She taught me history, 
and netting, — but I like tapestry work best, it is laore 
amusing, — Victor Hugo's poems, and the immortal principles 
of *89. I understood these at once. We read * The Giron- 
dists,* — I cried, and it was delightful ; I thought of nothing 
but the goddess of liberty, a red cap, and revolutions. She 
could make sweetmeats, too ; and there never was her equal 
in the getting up of lace. But I did not have her long ; 
mamma took it into her head that she made me more un- 
manageable than ever." 

" How so r 

" Why, you understand that I had adopted the political 
principles of my governess ; so, when mamma forbade me to 
do anything without telling me why she issued such com- 
mands, I, of course, went at once and did the forbidden 
thing j and then there was a coiamotioxv*" 



76 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

" And your governess, what did she say then 1" said Plato. 

" She said I must obey mamma, because children owed 
submission of the most absolute nature to their parents and 
teachers ; and when I resisted, she punished me. Then I 
said to myself that there were evidently two sets of rules in 
this world : some that were good for those who governed, and 
others that were better for those who were governed ; and 
that I liked the first best, and that I should hasten to take 
my place among the rulers, it was much nicer." Plato 
laughed. 

" From that time I took a dislike to theories. On paper 
they are very well, but when you have a head-strong pupil, 
* immortal principles ' are apt to go to the wall." 

" Bravo !" said Plato. " You reason well. How long did 
your revolutionist remain with you V 

" Two years ; and I regretted her departure more than I 
can well tell you. She was decidedly the best of all our 
governesses. She was so kind and thoughtful for our com- 
.fort whenever her theories were out of her mind. I think 
she was — just a little — " and the girl tapped her forehead 
with her dainty forefinger. " But," she resumed gaily, " she 
was really a good woman, generous in her impulses, and 
charitable to a degree ; she gave everything she owned in 
the world to our poor peasantry, who were strangers both to 
her country and her principles. I liked her much better 
than the German governess who succeeded her." 

Plato, who wa3 much amused at all this nonsense, at this 
moment turned his head. Behind him, his sister and 
Peter were conversing with great animation. He turned to 
Dosia again. " Of what are you thinking ?" he asked gently. 

"Of my German governess. She was intensely drolL 

Her large mouth was full of fine sentiments instead of the 

j^l^th she had lost. ^ Wallenstein,' ' Die Rauber,' and so on, 

^■in? household woTd& with her. She insisted on my playing 



dosia's governesses. 77 

Schumann with her, and was a frightful bore ; and, finally, 
when it came to settling accounts with mamma, we found 
her as grasping as an old jew. It was she who made me 
take a dislike to a myosotis soup." 

" A what V said Plato, in surprise. " What kind of a 
soup do you designate by that name V* 

"Don't you know? It is easy to see that no German 
governess had a hand in your education. This soup that I 
speak of is a potage composed of fine phrases, fine thoughts 
— noble thoughts, you understand, that come from the heart," 
she added, with a droll and audacious glance from out her 
laughing eyes. " Heaven and the stars, disembodied spirits, 
and the angels that bear away the souls of the dying to homes 
of bliss, disillusions and enchantments, duty and disinter- 
estedness, the abnegation of the ego, and meeting in another 
and better world, and the lotus on the shores of the Ganges." 
Dosia gasped for breath as she finished this long sentence, 
and then added quietly, "All this, you see, is myosotis 
soup," 

" I understand," said Plato. " You have a most happy 
facility of expression, and leave no possibility of mistake in 
the minds of your hearers." 

Dosia looked at him for a moment, ready to take offence 
if he was laughing at her ; but she was evidently satisfied 
with her inspection, for she smiled contentedly. 

" Better than any one of the others, however, was my 
Russian governess ; but she was with us only three days. 
She wore her hair cut short, had always blue spectacles on, 
— and was a Nihilist. When mamma saw on the school- 
room table the famous essay on * Force and Matter,' she said 
in her most gentle, most wearied voice, * You may pack your 
trunks, mademoiselle,* and so the blue spectacles disappeared 
from oiu* horizon for ever." 

" Your education has certaiiily been ^^^e.^w>kfe^ Oor^^x^^^ 



►Vii. 



78 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

Plato, not without some pity for this keen intelligence which 
had been so misdirected and badly cultivated. 

" Yes ; but it has done me no harm : it has ripened my 
judgment." 

This remark struck the young soldier as so utterly droll 
that he burst into irrepressible laughter and sank on a bench. 
Dosia, astonished and more than a little vexed, stood looking 
at him, with her head bent on one side, and her two 
slender, daintily gloved hands crossed before her. What did 
this outrageous laughter mean ? was evidently the question 
in her mind. Peter and Sophia drew near, anxious to par- 
ticipate in the amusement of the young man. Monrief re- 
quired no explanation; to him the attitude of Dosia was 
snflSiciently eloquent. 

" Dosia has said something silly," he said with a most de- 
lighted expression of countenance. " I have been looking for 
it all day long, ever since the morning." 

Dosia's reply came swift as an arrow from the bow : " You 
never kept us waiting so long." 

" Bravo ! bravo !" cried Plato, when he was once more able 
to speak. " She has you there, Peter." 

The latter lifted his hat from his head, and bowed to the 
very ground. ** I have found my master," he said to Dosia. 
" From this day forth, my fair cousin, I lay down my arms 
and place them at your feet I have no longer strength to 
do battle against you." 

" It is well said," replied Dosia, with the calm condescen- 
sion of a queen ; " you are entirely right. This indicates in 
my cousin a most salutary fear, and fear is the beginning of 
wisdom." 

They stood now in a broad open space on the shores of the 
lake, not far from the place where they had witnessed the 
regatta. The moon had rL^en and flooded the lake with a 
^bite light so intense as fairly to make \iie\T e^ea ache. 



dosia's governesses. 79 

"What a beautiful evening!" murmured the princess, 
seating herself at her brother's side. 

" A night made expressly for lovers," answered Plato. 
** We outsiders should never put our heads out of doors in 
such moonlight, for we are profane intruders." He glanced 
at Dosia, watching for the effect of his words. But the 
young girl, with her head thrown back, was gravely and 
earnestly looking at the spots in the moon. 

"Where are the days," she sighed, "when I believed in 
the man in the moon ? Those were good days," 

" How old were you ? " 

" Nine, I think." Every one laughed, but Dosia was not 
angry this time. " Yes," she resumed, " it was then that my 
father taught me to ride on his magnificent horse Negro, 
which he had brought from the Caucasus — a horse that had 
belonged to a Georgian princess, and who would pick 
up a handkerchief from the earth without stopping or 
slackening his pace, even if on a full gallop. The dear 
creature ! Never have I been so happy since. We went to 
ride together every night, and we looked at the moon. Papa 
said it had a door, and that occasionally the man in the moon 
opened the door and looked out to see what we were doing. 
Good heavens! how many times I fell flat in the avenue 
because I would walk with my face turned up to the sky ! " 

" How many others have done the same ! " snid Plato in a 
low earnest voice, half to himself. 

Dosia turned toward him; her childish face lost its 
mutinous expression, and she answered gravely : — " Tis 
glorious to fall because you are over fond of gazing toward 
heaven." 

Plato looked up in amazement. Dosia's face, serene and 
sweet, seemed to him absolutely transfigured. "Do you 
think so 1 " he said in the same low tone. 

While this conversation was going o\i, IJaa ^xVwye®* ^'SiSfe* 



80 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

explaining to Monrief the mechanism of a newlyj-invented 
reaping machine. 

"My father told me so, and I always had a blind un- 
reasoning faith in every word he uttered," continued Dosia. 
"He said a hundred times, 'Never allow yourself to be 
discouraged by obstacles; never pause at a low pitched 
thought. Lift your eyes above such things." 

" Your father was a good and honourable man," exclaimed 
Plato. 

Dosia gently laid her gloved hand on that of the young 
oflSicer and pressed it strongly, as though to thank him. 
They were both silent for some moments. 

"I rarely speak of my father," resumed Dosia. "At 
home I dare not : my mother begins to weep, and my 
sisters do not care. I was his Benjamin." 

" We two will talk of him whenever you wish," replied 
Plato, " I shall be glad to trace a good man's character in 
that of his favourite child." They talked long of Dosia's 
memories of childhood. 

Meanwhile Peter was the happiest of men. Seated at the 
side of the princess, he listened with intense enjoyment to 
her musical voice as it recapitulated the various merits of the 
reaping-machine. He was overwhelmed with admiration of 
its virtues, and was absolutely moved by tender emotion 
when he thought that it performed its daily task imder the 
eyes of his companion. Suddenly he was struck by a dismal 
idea. " Are you soon going away 1 " he asked the princess 
abruptly. 

" In five days I must take your cousin back to her 
mother, and from there I shall go to my country place." 

"And how long will you be gonel" asked Peter in 
consternation. 

" For a month at least." 

*'A month I Good heavens ! what shall I do with myself 
&11 that time V 



AN INVITATION, 81 

" Just what you did last year," said Sophia gently. 

** But at that time," answered Peter despondingly, " I did 
not know you, I was good for nothing." 

"I will leave you some books." 

Sophia's voice imperceptibly dropped as she uttered these 
words. There was silence for a few moments. " It is 
growing very late," she suddenly remarked. " Come, we 
must go in." 

The young men accompanied the ladies to the house, 
where they took a cup of tea and separated. " Plato," said 
Peter, as they regained their quarters, "your sister is an 
admirable person. I never saw so practical a woman, one so 
sensible and so kind-hearted." 

"There is no one like her in the world," answered the 
count quietly ; " and there is but one Dosia Zaptine. My 
sister, however, has no prophet — she has only worshippers." 

Peter hung down his head, as though he had somehow 
received a lesson, and uttered no word in reply. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

AN INVITATION, 

A FEW days later, the carriage of the Princess Sophia drew 
up at the famous flight of steps whither Peter had brought 
back Dosia to her astonished family. This same family, calm 
enough on this occasion, welcomed the arrivals cordially, and 
the princess gladly accepted the tea which was soon brought 
to her. 

"Has she given you much trouble?" asked Madame 
Zaptine, designating with a cautious ^\^\iQ,^\vet ^W3C^%^^^S^^ 



I 



82 WATWABD DCSIA, 

daughter, who was partaking of the maternal tea with evident 
satisfaction, and in the most irreproachable manner. 

** My dear madame," answered Sophia,* " she has given me 
no trouble at all, I assure you." Dosia coloured high with 
pleasure, but she did not speak. 

" Is it possible," sighed Madame Zaptine ; ** and at home 
we know not what to do with her V* A second flush mounted 
to the cheeks of the young rebel, and the satisfaction disap- 
peared from her eyes ; but she still preserved utter silence. 

"I think," said the princess, gently, "that the system of 
education you have adopted with her is not the one that 
is altogether suitable." 

Madame Zaptine lifted her hands and eyes toward heaven 
in protestation. " I have employed no system whatever," she 
cried. ** I have nothing of that kind to reproach myself with." 

" Precisely," answered Sophia, without a smile ; " I think 
that a system well devised, arranged with strict regard to 
her characteristics and tastes — " 

" My late husband had a great aversion to systems," in- 
teiTupted Madame Zaptine, putting her handkerchief to her 
eyes. " It was he who began the education of this unhappy 
child. Would that he had lived to complete his work ! " 

The princess saw that she could gain nothing in this way. 
Dosia, too, had a stormy look in her eyes, so Sophia hastened 
to fire off her great gun. 

** I am going away to-morrow. We are told that night 
brings counsel : dear madame, think over, then, to-night, 
the proposition that I am about to make to you, and give me 
a reply in the morning. Will yon trust Dosia to me for the 
winter 1 I wish to take charge of her until you, as usual, 
come to pass three months in Petersburg. You will then 
yourself introduce her into society." 

Dosia here jumped from her chair, which tumbled over, 
and ran to Sophia, nearly strangling her with the eager fervour 



AN INVITATION. 83 

of her embraces, while a deluge of cream and tea ran over the 
table. All the sisters uttered a simultaneous exclamation of 
horror. 

*' You see, princess !" said poor Madame Zaptine, plaintively. 

Sophia laughed. " It is a trifle not worth talking about, "- 
she said, as she drew Dosia to a seat at her side. " We will 
soon change all that. I have no pretensions to play the part 
of a model mother." 

" Nor I," murmured Madame Zaptine. 

" But," continued the princess, " I am sure that Dosia 
will become quite perfect if you will trust her to me. She 
has passed a week under my roof, and has broken nothing, 
nor even upset anything." 

"It is the air of this house, apparently, that inspires her," 
said an elder sister, sharply. 

Dosia was the beauty as well as the youngest of the family, 
and consequently was not a favourite with her sisters. She 
was about to make a hasty reply. Her kind friend, Sophia, 
looked at her, and put her finger on her lip. Dosia smiled 
and was sUent. This self-control, however, did not prevent 
the girl from drawing down the comers of her mouth, and 
looking at her sisters, after a fashion which they perfectly 
well understood, as soon as the princess turned away her eyes. 

Madame Zaptine passed a restless night. The hope of 
seeing Dosia perfect was extremely tempting to the good 
lady, but her delicacy shrank from delegating to another a 
task which she herself had found so difficult. In the morn- 
ing she opened her heart to Sophia, who succeeded in re- 
moving her scruples, upon condition that Dosia should be 
sent home at her first outbreak. 

The important point settled, Sophia turned her attention 
to Dosia, and endeavoured to inculcate in her a spirit of 
charity and kindness towards her sisters ; but she did not 
make any very great progress in this dvv:^ct\Q^^ ^xA 'wckSb^ 



B4 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

contented herself by extorting from the girl a promise, on 
her word of honour, "not to begin a quarrel." The youthful 
rebel gave this promise, and kept her word, but not without 
infinite difficulty. 



CHAPTER XV. 

IN ST. PETERSBURG. 



Autumn had come. In spite of the assiduous and persistent 
efforts of the gardeners, dead leaves, scattered by October 
winds, covered the lake in scarlet and russet patches. 
Tsarsko^S61o was almost deserted. Certain officials attached 
to the court alone continued to reside in the low wooden 
houses, which in summer are so attractive by reason of their 
clambering roses and flowering vines, but so dreary in winter, 
with their chintz-covered furniture, whose gay flowers seem 
to shiver under the sharp north wind whistling through the 
ill-fitting doors and loosely-hung windows. 

On her return, therefore, the princess established herself 
in St. Petersburg. Plato went at once to welcome her, but 
Monrief dared not go with him. The unceremonious ease of 
their summer life was over. Those frequent visits, then so 
much a matter of course, were now impossible, for the prin- 
cess, absorbed by her acquaintances and her social duties, 
would probably view his calls with very different eyes. 

Examining himself as it were under a mental magnifying 
glass, Peter decided that he was stupid, ignorant, and awk- 
ward, and asked himself how a woman so distinguished and 
attractive as Sophia could have endured his conversation. 

At length the regiment went into barracks for the winter, 
and Peter, thus restored to his home, after hesitating forty- 



IN ST. PETERSBURG. 85 

eight hours, passed the Rubicon, aud called on Princess 
Sophia one rainy afternoon, when he was quite sure of find- 
ing her at home. 

The clock had just struck four. As he went up the stairs 
he heard some one playing the piano with much vigour. 
Peter presented himself, pale, and with his heart beating 
quickly. The servant in the ante-room said, "Yes, the 
princess received." He entered. At the extreme end of the 
long drawing-room where it was very dark, for the shortest 
days of the year were near at hand, two ladies were seated 
playing a duet. 

The piano stopped ; the princess arose and advanced to 
meet her visitor. More agitated than beseemed a cavalry 
officer, he bowed low over the beautiful hand extended to 
greet him, and was soon seated at a small oval table with his 
hostess. A lamp was brought in, the heavy shade of which 
only permitted the light to fall in a narrow circle round. 
The lady at the piano had not moved ; her presence em- 
barrassed the young man ; he did not know what to say, or 
what to leave unsaid. His ideas seemed somehow thrown 
into utter confusion, and the only clear notion left him was 
that he must talk. He talked accordingly of the opera, the 
theatre, of Mademoiselle Delaporte, and Madame Pasca ; de- 
clared in one breath that he was in love with one of the 
stars of the ballet, and in the next that he had never seen her. 

The princess, her lips parted with a half smile, her hands 
lightly clasped on her knee, and her head a little thrown 
forward, listened to him kindly, lent him a helping hand on 
occasion, but to his intense mortification, evidently dis- 
credited his every word. 

Peter was at the end of his resources. The lady at the 
piano behind him, who had not yet moved, seemed the per- 
sonification of tacit reproach. " Do you never mean to ^o 
away T the motionless figure seemed to ^^^. 



86 WAYWABD DOSIA. 

The unhappy youth settled his spurs under his chair, pre- 
paratory to making a move : it was not more than five 
minutes and a half since his entrance, but he had contrived 
to utter at least twenty foolish things, and this he realized 
most acutely. A sharp note, struck on the pianoforte by the 
mute lady, jarred his nerves. 

He started, snatched at his white cap, and rose. The 
princess began to laugh. Peter looked at her in amazement, 
and asked himself if it was Sophia who was so very rude as 
to laugh at his discomforture to his very face. 

The lady at the piano rose slowly, came out from her 
comer and into the full gleam of the light from the lamp. 
The princess still laughed her silvery laughter. 

" Dosia !" cried Monrief, absolutely terrified ; " am I 
dreaming ?" 

" Fancy me a vision of the night if you like, cousin mine. 

*That hated form again ! I fled in vain,* 

as the poet says. I won't be called a nightmare, however, 
'tis too ugly a word." 

Peter, much disturbed, assented with a gesture of the 
head. " So you are here V* said he, struggling to regain 
his self-possession. 

"I should have thought that tolerably evident to the 
naked eye," was the reply. The princess again, went off 
into a fit of laughter. 

" How long shall you be here ?" continued Peter. 

" For the whole winter, my respected cousin ; and I am 
entirely at your service," replied Dosia with the greatest 
gravity, dropping a curtsey, country-girl fashion. 

"I congratulate you, and I am charmed to hear it," 
stammered Peter. 

'^Tbat 13 not true," said Dosia, shaking her head and her 
foreGnger, aententioualj ; " but it is t\i© proper thing to say, 



IN ST. PETERSBURG. 87 

all the same. We will excuse the falsehood on account of 
the politeness." And she took a chair in front of him. 

" Sit down, M. Monrief," said the princess, who at last had 
recovered her self-possession ; "it will never do to let this 
naughty girl boast of having put you to flight." 

Peter was indeed on the point of effecting his escape ; but 
upon the invitation of the princess he reseated himself, and 
began to talk, but in so disconnected a manner, that at 
the end of twenty words he stopped short, in great discom- 
fort 

" I forgive you," said the hard-hearted Dosia ; " to be sure 
you are somewhat wandering in your style, and very contra- 
dictory in your matter, but I will endeavour to be lenient in 
my judgment, as I ascribe all these faults to your over- 
whelming joy at once more beholding me. My presence was 
an unexpected pleasure to you, I therefore will retire." 

She rose. " You will be pleased to notice," she added, 
" that I am expressing myself in extremely classical French, 
that each adjective is accompanied by its substantive, and 
vice versa. It is to the Princess Sophia that this happy 
change is due. May this benevolent fairy touch you, in your 
turn, with her wand, and restore a little order to your 
grammar and also to your ideas, for you seem to me to be 
singularly in need of her assistance." 

She left the room, not hastily, but with the gliding grace 
of a sylph. Peter followed her with his eyes, and when the 
door had closed upon her, breathed a deep sigh. 

" Grief T said the princess gently, with a tinge of mischief 
in her voice. 

" Relief ! " answered the young man energetically. " She 
affects me in the strangest way. All the time she is there, 
I feel as if I were a target set up to be shot at." 

•*The comparison is very just," replied Sophia, smiling '^ 
" but why do you tease her so V 



88 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

" Surely, princess, this time you will admit that I was not 
in fault." 

Sophia's answering smile was so sweet, so full of almost 
maternal tenderness, that Peter riveted his eyes upon her, 
utterly fascinated. She did not seem oflFended by his in- 
discreet gaze. " Now let us talk," she said. " All that you 
have hitherto uttered shall count for nothing. Suppose you 
have just come in ! Have you read my books ? " 

Peter lingered an hour with the princess, and found means 
to induce her to forget the many very foolish things he had 
said. There was much merit in the achievement, for they 
were difficult enough to forget. 

The next day, meeting his friend Sourof, Peter stopped 
him. " Traitor ! " he said, half in jest and half in earnest, 
" why didn't you tell me Dosia was at your sister's ?" 

" Because we wished to give you an agreeable surprise." 
Peter shook his head doubtfully. 

" Were you not pleased to meet your cousin again ?" asked 
Plato, with the most innocent air in the world. 

" Indeed I was not. You know, you dog, that we cannot 
endure each other." 

" I wish that I were absolutely certain of that," muttered 
the young officer. Monrief examined him from head to foot, 
with wide-open eyes of astonishment. 

" What you say is really true, and no chaff?" asked the 
count with a forced smile. 

** Absolutely," returned Peter promptly. 

" So much the better then for you both, for never were 
two persons less intended for each other by nature than you 
and your cousin Dosia." 

"That is quite true," answered Peter, "ani I thank 
heaven daily for my happy escape." 



FRIENDLY ADMONITIONS. 89 



CHAPTER XVI. 

FRIENDLY ADMONITIONS. 

MoNRiBF now called on the princess almost every day, and 
seemed quite bewitched. Ho troubled himself no more 
about Dosia. His visits were generally, however, made in 
the evening, when he was accompanied by Plato, and the 
girl paid him but fitful attention, although occasionally she 
would aim some mischievous observation at his head. 

Dosia officiated at the tea-table, and had arrived at such a 
degree of perfection in her duties that she was able to perform 
them without tipping over the cream-jug, or scalding herself 
or any one else from the tea-urn. She insisted on herself 
cutting the thinnest possible slices from the loaf at the ex- 
pense at first of several gashes on her pretty fingers, but 
practice finally made her perfect. 

Plato had done much toward bringing the little rebel to 
submission ; he would scold her in a friendly way, and his 
admonitions would be received with the amiability of a dove. 

One evening, when alone with her in the dining-room, he 
was administering a lengthy reprimand with a certain feeling 
of secret annoyance that assailed him sometimes when Dosia, 
silent and submissive, listened to his words with a pleased 
air. He was tempted at such times to lose his temper, and 
he even longed to shake her as he would a mischievous boy. 
But in reality her conduct was irreproachable. She made 
no saucy replies, took no offence. Impelled by a sudden 
gust of anger, he lost his patience, as he looked at her rosy, 
smiling face. 



90 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

" I am not saying this to give you pleasure," he said a 
little roughly. 

The girl turned her bright sweet face towards him. "I like 
you to scold me," she said, with a strange music in her voice 
as she spoke. 

"And so you persist in doing just the things that — " 
Plato suddenly stopped, he felt that he was going too far. 

" Not at all ; it is simply that the fact of your taking the 
trouble to lecture me proves that you take an interest in 
me," said Dosia, with a candour which disarmed the fault- 
finder. " Since I lost my dear father, no one has cared 
enough for me to take the trouble to admonish me. You and 
the princess have alone had the courage, and I so deeply feel 
your kindness." Here the girl suddenly stopped short and 
burst into tears. Before Plato could speak in reply, she had 
fled from the room ; he heard a rustle of silk, the closing of 
the door, and he was alone. 

Our young captain was troubled. " Yes," he said to him- 
self, " I am interested in her, but only to the extent of 
wishing to see her loved and respected by ail about her. I 
wish to think of her as perfect, and to watch her gradual devel- 
opment into the woman she was destined by nature to become." 

Peter Monrief appeared in the doorway ; he was already 
in his friend's thoughts. The princess came in with him and 
rang for tea. Dosia entered in a few moments, and took her 
place before the tray and tea-cups. Her eyes glistened 
with unshed tears, and a richer colour than usual indicated 
her recent emotion. She overwhelmed the princess with 
affectionate demonstrations all the evening, but carefully 
avoided even a look at Plato. But Plato knew somehow 
that some of that affection was meant for him, and the 
caresses lavished on his sister went home to his heart. For 
some reason or other he made himself very disagreeable to 
Monrief that ereDirf 



A FKTB IN PROSPECT. 91 

" What have I done to you ? " said the latter, as they 
walked together down the street. 

"You weary me with your questions," replied Plato. 
" Has not a man the right to be out of temper without 
accounting for it ? " Then repenting him of his outbreak, 
he frankly extended his hand to the young man. " Forgive 
me," he said, *' it is merely one of my periodical fits. You 
know that I am a little whimsical." 

"All right !" replied Peter, cordially. ** Poor Dosiat do 
you intend to lecture her again ? " 

Plato turned on his heel and strode off, while Monrief re- 
mained more firmly than ever convinced that his friend was 
indeed growing more and more whimsical each day. But 
when he was in one of these moods, there was nothing to be 
done but wait until he was himself again, and this Peter 
had discovered long since. So he went to bed. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

A FETE IN PROSPECT. 



" We are arranging a superb fete on the English skating 
ground," said Monrief to the princess one evening. " The 
imperial family will be present, and it promises to be a very 
brilliant affair. Will you come ? " 

The princess smiled. " I renounced the pomps and vani- 
ties some time ago," she said. 

"But," cried Dosia from the sofa, where she sat curled up 
close to her good friend with all the grace of a young kitten, 
" I have renounced nothing ! " 

" Ah, that is true enough ! " muttered her cousin. 

The girl shook her finger at Mixi ^\\3ciQ>aX» ^«2sf>si!^<^^ 



92 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

He bowed low in mute apology, and she resumed : " Then, 
having renounced nothing, I may aspire to everything, may 
I not ? " This made her audience smile, and she was en- 
couraged to continue. "And I should like much to be 
present at your fSte. How can that be managed ? " 

Peter slowly drew from his pocket a square envelope, and 
held it high above his cousin's head. 

" Give it to me ! " she cried ; "give it to me ! " 

Peter had too long indulged his natural love of teasing 
her, now to yield gracefully and at once ; but Dosia jumped 
upon a chair, caught the paper, and was on the floor again 
before the princess or Plato, who looked highly displeased, 
could utter a syllable of expostulation. 

"Mademoiselle Dosia Zaptine," she read. "Ah! how 
pretty that looks on the envelope ! I delight in receiving 
letters, they are so amusing ! I wish I had a dozen every 
day." 

" What do you wish to read in them ? " said Peter, jest- 
ingly. 

" Anything or nothing : I only care about seeing my name 
on the exterior." 

"I advise you, then," said the princess, "to address a 
quantity of envelopes to yourself." 

" 0, no," answered Dosia, " that would not do, for there 
would be no surprise in that ; and I adore surprises, even if 
they are of the most trivial description." 

" I notice," said Plato in a low tone under his moustache, 
" that you have a great liking for trifles." 

Dosia turned slowly toward him with a somewhat aston- 
ished air, then suddenly and with great gravity laid the 
envelope on the table, without opening it. 

" Let me see the invitation," said the princess gaily, seek- 
ing to do away with the eflects of the harsh words uttered 
by Plato, words that had evidently wounded the girL 



A FBTB IN PBOSPIOT. 93 

Then Dosia^ with downcast eyes, took up the envelope, 
broke the seal, and drew from within a pretty card. An 
exclamation of delight was looked for, but none came. The 
princess had even drawn the lace flounces of her robe more 
closely about her, to protect them from the tumultuous joy 
of the girl; but she was strangely silent. Dosia slowly 
turned the card over, to be certain that there was nothing 
on the other side, and then returned it to the envelope. 
Thereupon the princess cast a glance at Plato, as if to say, 
" You have spoiled her pleasure." Plato felt the well-merited 
reproach. 

" Can you skate. Mademoiselle Dosia ? " he asked in a 
grave and musical voice, so gentle, and almost tender in its 
tone, that his sister and Peter recognised it with difficulty. 

The girl lifted her saddened eyes to his ; but Peter spoke 
before she could reply. ^^ She skates," he said, *' as if she had 
English blood in her veins." 

" You know nothing about it," cried Dosia, quickly. 

" I humbly beg your pardon, cousin ; I have seen you 
skate often enough a dozen years ago." 

" Ah ! " said Dosia, making a little face, " that counts for 
nothing ; that was on the pond, with my first skates, when I 
was but seven years old. I can do much better now," 

" Then I must ask," returned Peter, " how that can well 
be ? You were then as perfectly at home on the ice as on 
this floor. You skate on your feet still, I suppose ; or have 
you adopted the American fashion of getting over the ice on 
your head ? " 

Dosia did not condescend to make any reply ; but Plato 
laughed, and the princess, seeing that harmony was restored, 
now asked for an invitation for herself, which also emerged, 
folded and directed, from Monrief s pocket. 

" I did not present them," he said, " when I first came in, 
for I was unwilling to run the risk of a refvi&'dL" 



94 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

" How extremely prudent ! " exclaimed Plato. " How un- 
naturally wise ! I really fear for your health or your sanity, 
my friend/' 

It was agreed that these foui* should make their appear- 
ance together at the f&te, the two ladies wearing costumes 
exactly alike of violet velvet. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE SKATING FESTIVAL. 

On the day indicated — it was in the middle of January — 
many were the beautiful eyes that interrogated the ther- 
mometer from noon until sunset. That watched ther- 
mometer would not go up ; it stood immovable at 14** Reau- 
mur, and for an open-air fite indicated weather a trifle 
severe. All the mammas spent the day in declaring that 
they would not go. " It was folly," they said, " to risk 
catching neuralgia or inflammation of the lungs for two hours' 
amusement" A bald general or two, the father of two or 
three pretty children, would order the young wife to remain 
indoors. "When a woman has a family," he said, "all 
needless peril is to be avoided." 

The thermometer fell two degrees more about nine o'clock, 
but still a procession of carriages and sleighs deposited at 
the English quay a multitude of girls accompanied by their 
mammas, and of young married women protected by their 
generals; and singularly enough, neither mammas nor generals 
looked as if they came reluctantly, for their faces beamed 
with smiles, and their air was courteous in the extreme. The 
£^t waa, that once it was known that the imperial family 



THB SKATINQ FESTIVAL. 95 

were to be present, the weather ceased to be cold, and the 
only regret was that the frost was not yet more severe. 

As the princess and Dosia had neither mammas nor generals 
to order them to remain under shelter, there was nothing to 
interfere with their movements. They left their carriage on 
the English quay, and descended the steps cut in the ice, over 
which had been sifted the finest of sand, and found themselves 
on the N6va, which was frozen over with ice three feet thick. 
The space reserved for skating purposes was a rectangle of 
about five hundred feet, by two hundred and fifty feet in 
width. A wall built of blocks of ice three feet high, in the 
fissures of which had been placed tall evergreens, enclosed 
three sides ; the fourth was formed of a raised gallery built 
after the style of a Russian w6a, and covered, of course, with 
a roof. Here were the cloak, and refreshment rooms, both 
pleasantly warmed by portable furnaces. A special boudoir 
was reserved for ladies, where nothing was lacking — toilette 
tables, covered with the customary appliances, mirrors, pic- 
tures, and flowers, curtains and hangings of scarlet cloth, 
luxurious seats — all, even to the warmth of the atmosphere, 
was like an ordinary salon. A similar room had been 
arranged for the especial use of the imperial family, for 
several of the grand-duchesses had promised to accompany 
their brothers or husbands. 

A raised platform, decorated with evergreens, stood in front 
of the entrance door, and contained the orchestra. Eopes 
hung with glittering globes formed festoons all round the en- 
closure, and each of these white globes was the centre of half 
a dozen smaller ones of different hues. Two round towers 
fifteen or twenty feet in height, formed of blocks of ice cut into 
many angles, served as light-houses, where soldiers were 
ordered to send off^, at stated intervals, ' Bengal lights. 
Nothing can paint the magical effect of these coloured fires 
seen through the ice, — the ice which caught the Iv^t. ^\>Jc^v^ 



&6 WAYWARD DOBIA. 

dissipate it again. Torches flamed wildly, and just as the 
imperial family reached the quay, an electric light was thrown 
full on the superb toilettes and gorgeous uniforms. 

The orchestra played a waltz. Several daring couples 
moved off, holding each other by the hand, describing circles 
much larger than those of an ordinary drawing-room, but 
just as regular. This waltz was a mere interlude ; the great 
event of the evening was to be a quadruple set of the Lancers, of 
which numerous rehearsals had taken place the day before. 

The ladies had arranged their toilettes among themselves, 
so that all should be in harmony. In one quadrille they 
were in white velvet trimmed with astrakan of immaculate 
whiteness; in a second they had chosen light blue, ornamented 
with gibeline; in the third they wore claret-coloured costumes^ 
with furs of chinchilla ; and in the fourth dark-blue velvet 
bordered with swan's down. The dancers, all on skates, 
moved with less velocity than on a waxed floor ; but with 
no less exactitude. Dosia, who was not in the quadrilles, 
looked on the spectacle with intense delight. 

" Are you pleased V* asked the princess, who did not skate. 

"Indeed I am !*' cried the girl. "It is absolutely charming ! 
like fairy-land itself. I never dreamed of anything like it." 

" It is a sight to be seen, I fancy, nowhere but here," said 
Plato, coming toward them. "We are the only people in 
Europe who have a N6va, — money enough to pay for such a 
fite, and the folly necessary to conceive the idea of it." 

Dosia smiled. " So we are an insane nation, are we ?" she 
asked. 

" I think so," answered the wise young man. " Who but 
ourselves would do so mad an act as to dance the mazurka on 
this sheet of ice, where, if one falls, it is at the risk of break- 
ing a limb or even fracturing the skull? Of course, I include 
myself in my indictment." 

^^But one can also," interrupted Dosia, eagerly, " break a 



TOE SKATING FESTIVAL. 97 

limb, or even the head, on a well-waxed floor while dancing 
the same mazurka to this same orchestra." The brother and 
sister laughed. 

" Dancing is a pernicious sin," continued Dosia, with the 
greatest gravity. " We are forced to this belief each day we 
live. And this is why Count Plato never dances and never 
skates T 

We shall never know what the count would have said in 
reply, for Peter suddenly struck in, and thereby again 
brought a pensive shade to his friend's face. " Are you cold, 
ladies T he asked anxiously. They hastened to assure him 
of their entire comfort. " The thermometer is falling fast," 
continued he ; " it is now eighteen degrees, and by midnight 
it will probably be twenty below." 

"But we, fortunately, shall be at home by that time," 
said the princess. 

At this moment delicious hot tea was served, and most 
welcome it was. Several friends approached ; the quadrille 
was over. The crowd dispersed, while, a second band replaced 
the first, and played music of a somewhat higher order. 

Each skater wore, fastened to his button-hole, a small, 
round lantern, about as large as a five-franc piece ; and these 
looked like fire-flies, as they shot to and fro. Taking ad- 
vantage of their opportunity, servants watered the surface of 
the rink with hot water ; a light steam arose, disappeared, 
and the ice, smoother than ever, presented a surface without 
a scratch. 

" It is delightful here to-night," said an aide-de-camp, as he 
approached the princess to pay his respects. " This fete is 
far more brilliant than the last." 

" To what do you attribute the difibrence T asked Sophia, 
thinking no evil. 

'* To your presence, princess, of course," answered the gal- 
lant cavalier. 



98 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

Dosia pinched her friend's arm lightly, and turned away to 
hide a smile. Monrief was equally amused, and as their eyes 
met they had the greatest difficulty to restrain their laughter. 

" Without wishing to underrate my sister's merits," said 
Plato, always to be depended upon in moments of danger, 
** I must say that the temperature probably counts for some- 
thing. What was the weather then ?" 

" Not a breath of wind, and twenty- four degrees Reaumur. 
But we had very few ladies present, and the affair was in the 
highest degree dreary — very dreary — melancholy, in fact;" 
and the aide-de-camp sighed. 

Dosia, who had taken off her skates, pulled her cousin by 
the sleeve, and ran off. Peter followed her in astonishment, 
and found her in a corner, laughing till the tears had come 
into her eyes. 

" Oh why,*' said she between two fits of laughter, " why do 
you make me laugh ? The princess will say that I am very 
unmannerly, and really it was not my fault. But come,** she 
added " put on my skates ; I dare not go back there, for I 
shall laugh in the creature's face." 

Peter, on his knees before his pretty cousin, tightened her 
straps, and then arranged his own ; and off they went, mak- 
ing sweeping curves over the ice. 

" Where is Dosia 1 " asked the princess. 

" There she is, skating with M. Monrief," replied the aide- 
de-camp. " They are charming," he added, adjusting his 
eye-glasses with a knowing air. " They look as if they were 
made for each other. Is there not something serious going 
on there ? " 

Plato turned suddenly very pale, and bit his lips to restrain 
the words that sprang to them. The princess, who under- 
stood the world, knew too much to refute this idea with too 
great energy, and therefore contented herself with a simple 
denial; for it often happena that over iorciMfe ^<wival& trans- 



THB SKATING FESTIVAL. 99 

form vague suppositions into absolute convictions. " I do 
not think," she said, " that such an idea has ever entered the 
head of any one." 

The stout aide-de-camp now rose to carry elsewhere his 
ponderous gallantries, and took leave of the princess, leaving 
behind him the sting of a cruel doubt. 

How many times had Plato said to himself that these young 
people ought to love each other ; that perhaps they did so now 
without knowing it themselves ! How many times had he 
thought himself that it would be a very happy arrangement, 
and that m this way Dosia's girlish error would in no degree 
affect her future. But now the idea of this made him 
miserable, savage with himself, intolerant to others. Must 
his whole future life be spoiled by the fancies of this little 
girl ? And while he stood thus buried in thoughts of no 
pleasing character, the two cousins flew past him like two 
birds. 

" Plato, I am tired," said Sophia, who read his thoughts, 
and wished to turn them into a different channel. He rose 
in silence, went in search of the coachman, and then returned 
to his sister. 

"Dosia," called Sophia gently, as she leaned over the 
railing by the cloak-room, just as the cousins passed. The 
girl turned her face tow.ird the princess, and what a face it 
was ! It seemed the very embodiment of careless gaiety, 
radiant as it was with exercise, amusement, and the keen 
air. And Plato suffered in silence. 

" I am tired, my dear," said the princess ; " will you come 
home 1 " 

Without replying, Dosia dropped on the long wooden 
bench that ran the whole length of the galleiy, and held out 
her little foot to Peter, signifying to him that she wished her 
skates removed. " Thanks," she said, when he had finialLe.d\ 
** I have had a charming evening.'* 



100 WAYWABD DOSIA. 

Sophia and her brother now came to join them. Dosia 
remarked the serious expression of their faces. " You do 
not look well," she said, with that warm sympathy which 
rendered her so irresistibly fascinating. 

" That is no matter," grumbled Plato, " if you have been 
amused." 

" We have been sitting still," said the princess, and we are 
cold ; that is all." 

" I beg ten thousand pardons," murmured the penitent 
Dosia. **I have been inexcusably selfish." 

The grand duchesses were retiring, and the crowd was 
escorting them with torches to their carriages. Our friends 
were obliged to wait a few moments. The enclosure was 
almost deserted, and the surface of the ice looked nearly 
black in contrast to the vivid flame of the Bengal lights which 
glowed and palpitated upon the quay. Dosia felt a sudden 
and unaccountable depression. 

"No pleasure, no happiness endures long," she said to 
herself. " Why is it that, having done no harm to any one, 
' having done nothing wrong, I feel at this moment utterly 
miserable and discontented with all the world." She re- 
turned home without having spoken a word. The next day 
she apologised to the princess for her thoughtlessness and 
want of consideration for those who were so kind to her. 
Her hot tears fell fast as she accused herself of selfishness. 

The princess consoled her as best she could, and profited 
by this occasion to read her a little sermon. "Be more 
reserved with your cousin," she said ; " every one does not 
know that you have been companions from infancy. I was 
even asked yesterday if you were not engaged to him." 

Dosia's face, which was scarlet by this time, now assumed 

an expression of anger. " But I detest him," she exclaimed, 

'^and he cannot endure me. How can people be so stupid ! " 

^^But the whole world can bardiy be oixn^ted to know 



MABBONS OLAOiB. 101 

whom you detest," replied the princess, with a half-repressed 
smile. " Your mutual hatred does not prevent your skating 
together." 

" Ah, my dear friend ! " began Dosia in stammering 
confusion. 

" Do not detest him, my dear, but treat him precisely as 
you do every one else ; that is all that is necessary." 

" Only it is a very difficult thing to do," sighed the girl. 
" But, tell me, is the count vexed with me 1 " 

The princess was silent in her turn, and confused for a 
moment. She hesitated. " He is never vexed with you, 
Dosia, but sometimes he is a little shocked." 

" I will never do so again," sobbed Dosia, like a naughty 
child ; " never again ! Only tell him that I say so, please ; 
and tell him not to be angry with me." 

Plato was informed of these simple words, and had no 
longer courage to keep up his reserve toward her. His 
kindly manner, therefore, brought back the smiles that very 
day to Dosia's dimpled lips. 



CHAPTER XIX. 



MARRONS GLACES. 



The winter advanced rapidly. The succession of marriages 
which ever follows close on Christmas festivities had duly 
taken place. Lent was near at hand, and Dosia was pro- 
moted to dresses with trains. 

This event, which she had looked forward to as the most 
important of her life, found her when it came comparatively 
indifferent. True, she had caught herself a dozen times or 
more looking back at her ailkeix tisin ^^ \\. ^^'^x'^^ xxjk.Ns^^-^^ 



102 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

lines over the carpet ; but still she by no means felt the 
triumph and pride she had anticipated. In short, Dosia's 
first robe ct traine was a disappointment. Other wishes, other 
thoughts had gained the ascendency. 

" How she has changed," sighed Monrief one day, as he 
took his seat by the side of the princess on a little tabouret 
so low that the handle of his sword touched his chin. " She 
was infinitely more amusing a while ago," he continued, pen- 
sively. 

" Those were joyous days, were they not 1 " said the prin- 
cess in a teasing way. 

Of course Monrief passionately protested] but Sophia con- 
tinued, with a certain earnestness in her tones: "Do you 
not regret now that you did not marry her 1 " 

**' Oh, princess ! " exclaimed Monrief, in a reproachful tone, 
more serious than the occasion seemed to demand. 

"It is not too late yet, perhaps," continued Sophia, without 
looking at Peter. 

He was silent. He was playing with the gold tassels on 
his sabre, and their jingle produced the only sound that 
was to be heard. The princess grew nervous, and began to 
turn over the morning's paper which lay unfolded on the 
table. " Well ! " she said, seeing that Monrief would not 
speak. 

*' I think," he replied in a low voice, " that while it may 
be amusing to Dosia to be the torment of some poor mortal, 
that — ^" He hesitated, and coughed as if to clear his throat. 
The princess did not raise her eyes. 

Peter went on. "I really do not know why you speak in 
this way ; I have given no reason for it, I certainly have not 
behaved in a way to make anybody think me in love with 
Dosia." 

The princess interrupted him with a sharp, nervous laugh, 
which she suddenly checked towevew P^ter atill failed to 



MARRONS GLACES. 103 

meet her eyes, and the metal tassel continued to jingle 
against the scabbard of his sabre. 

** I shall not marry," he continued gravely, " because I con- 
sider that a man who marries without love commits the 
gravest possible sin against himself, as well — " 

" You are very severe," said the princess, trying to smile ; 
but she had not the courage for jesting, and quickly relapsed 
into silence. 

" The grav(8t possible sin," he resumed, " as well as the 
most foolish, oecause the punishment follows swiftly and 
surely." 

" But," said Sophia, colouring, " do you consider yourself 
sheltered for life t-om the arrows "of the malicious little god?" 

Peter rose from lis chair. " The woman whom I love," he 
said, " is one whom - dare not hope to marry. Nevertheless, 
her image will presetre me from many errors. I prefer to 
live for ever alone rat\er than profane the heart that I have 
laid at her feet, whollyjand hopelessly." And Peter bowed 
low before the silent prucess, his spurs jingling as he took 
one step toward the dooi 

Sophia hesitated for a ?ioment, and then rising from her 
chair, extended her hand to the young man with a royal 
gesture. " He who has tUse sentiments," she said in a low 
voice, " may easily be mistken in the depth and duration of 
his passion." Peter's lips prted. 

" But," she continued, " if he be sincere, if he really has 
given his whole heart, and is iUing to consecrate his whole 
life to her service, there is not a woman in the world who 
would not feel grateful for such Ovotion and self-abnegation." 
Monrief looked at her in bewildeiaent. 

'•You are young," she added, 'to talk of eternity ; " and 
a faint smile played on her lips, lifting up her lovely face 
as with a gleam of sunshine. " Bu if the trials and tempta- 
tions of life," she continued, ** are nt \.qq> xccvx'^ Vix ^w>.^^^ 



104 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

you really feel all that you claim to feel, you have the right 
to aspire to the heart and hand of any woman who lives." 
Saying this she passed him with a slight inclination of the 
head, and left the room. 

Peter found himself on the quay without knowing in the 
least how he got out of the house. He hurried o?, looking 
neither to the right nor to the left, absorbed in thought, for 
he was unable to grasp the full meaning of the ivords he had 
heard. "It is impossible," he said to himseV; '* I am mis- 
taken ; and yet she is no coquette. But she would never, T 
am sure — " 

Next evening Monrief called early on ^he princess. He 
determined to ask for a private interview, At which he might 
obtain a more positive hope, and more absolute encourage- 
ment; but to his infinite disappointnj^nt he found a gay 
circle assembled. Plato met him in tb ante-room. 

" What is going on here to-night ? " asked Monrief. 

" It is your cousin's birthday. I sapposed you had come 
to congratulate her." 

" Not at all," exclaimed Peter /* I never thought of it ! 
I came for a totally different reasd." 

"And what was that?" asket Plato, looking so highly 
amused that the discomfited lieut^iant hastily answered : " I 
came — why, I came, of course, tcpay a visit. Is there to be 
dancing ] " 

" Yes, if you have no object^n." 

" Very well ; I must go a» get some flowers. I cannot 
make my appearance with ert^ty hands." 

Dosia's graceful head apj^ared in the opening between the 
folding-doors, and her mi^hievous eyes were fixed on the 
discomfited face of Monri/i ^«^ho was throwing on his cloak. 
"My cousin forgot my V^hday," she said, " and he is going 
now to get me some flA^ei-s or bonbons, I suppose. Bring 
me marrons glac6s lUBp^y please^ I pYcfer them." 

/ 
/ 



ICARBONB OLACm 105 

She disappeared, and her silvery laugh was heard afar off. 
Plato smiled. " You understand what is expected of you, at 
least 1 " he said. 

" Certainly, — ^marrons glacis. I am sure that there will 
not be any at this hour. I shall have to order them, and 
shall not obtain them till after midnight." The unfortunate 
man departed. At the end of some twenty minutes he made a 
triumphant entrance with the marrons glacis and a huge bou- 
quet) intended to win pardon for his unaccountable negligence. 

" Thanks, cousin," said Dosia, receiving his offerings with 
much grace. " You spoil me ; but every one spoils me here : 
they have discovered that kindness makes me a better girl." 
Peter, amazed at her excessive amiability, could find no words 
to reply. 

" You forgot me ; but I am not surprised. Your heart and 
thoughts have been elsewhere," added Dosia. "I have noticed 
that you have been strangely absent-minded for some time 
past." 

" You noticed that, did you 1 " muttered Peter, feeling as 
if he would like to shake her. 

" Yes ; but I kept my observations to myself, so you may 
be perfectly eaay. I have even promised that darling Sophia 
not to tease you any more." 

" I can never be sufficiently grateful for yom' generosity," 
said Peter, bowing low. 

" Oh," continued the girl, nodding her head mischievously, 
*' it was not on your account I made the promise. Sophia 
never told me so ; but I noticed that whenever I teased you 
and made you miserable, she was unhappy." 

And Peter fairly caught the glance of friendly yet arch 
triumph which Dosia launched at him from those wondeiful 
eyes of hers, that seemed always to say a hundred things at 
once ; but he had no time to express his thanks, for she was 
gone. 



f 



106 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

They danced as they dance only at St. Petersburg, with a 
passionate enthusiasm that is oblivious to all save the 
enjoyment of the moment About midnight the princess 
ordered supper ; it was the first time that there had been 
dancing under her roof, " and it would doubtless be the last," 
she said, with a smile ; but Dosia deserved a little dance in 
honour of her eighteenth birthday." 

"Yes, ladies and gentlemen," exclaimed Dosia, who was 
seated in the middle of the supper-table, "I am eighteen 
years old. I do not look so, but nevertheless such is the 
fact ; and I have become so extremely sensible that Princess 
Sophia thinks of putting me under glass in the drawing- 
room as a perpetual example to young girls, to show them 
that there is always hope, and that the most incorrigible 
among them need not despair of improvement. I have 
become the most sedate individual in the world, and I am 
determined to devote my life in future to doing all the good 
I can ! " 

Here the girl was interrupted by the gentle applause of 
the company. Dosia cast a demure glance at her astonished 
cousin. " To the world at large," she resumed, " and myself, 
meanwhile, in particular. Until now I have been a mere 
butterfly. In future I shall act the part of a silk-worm. I 
fear I shall always be in one extreme or other; but one 
cannot change one's temperament. I drink to my trans- 
formation ! " 

Amid laughter and expostulation Dosia lifted her rose- 
coloured glass and drank a few drops of champagne; then turn- 
ing toward Plato, her face losing its gaiety and assuming a 
reserved, almost timid expression, her eyes seemed to ask if 
she had gone too far. His smile reassm*ed her ; her sweet 
face resumed its joyous expression, and she hastened to the 
drawing-room where dancing was again about to begin. 
Monrief bad begged the favour of a (\uadrille with the 



A OAHBLINa DEBT. 107 

prinoess ; but how could he talk in this rapid succession of 
figures and constant care for floating trains ? The question 
that burned on his lips was hardly one to he uttered in such 
a scene. He was forced to content himself with admiring the 
graceful form and noble' face of the woman he might per- 
chance win for his wife. 

At this idea his heart beat to suflfocation, and it seemed 
impossible for him to preserve longer silence. Yet the 
touch of Sophia's hand imparted no passionate shudder to 
him; his love burned with too pure a flame for such 
emotions. 



CHAPTER XX. 

A OAMBLINO DEBT. 



Onb afternoon Plato appeared with an anxious face in his 
sis tele's presence. He begged Sophia to see him alone in her 
little study, the gloomy depths of which Dosia never ventured 
to penetrate. 

" What is the matter 1 " asked the princess, disquieted in 
her turn ; " has any misfortune happened 1 " 

"Nothing that concerns us directly," answered Sourof ; 
" but if whiat I have heard be true, certain of our habits must 
be changed." 

" Is that all ? " interrupted Sophia, breathing more freely. 

" When I say our habits, I mean those of the heart, which 
are always the most difficult to alter. But I will tell you 
the whole matter. According to a report which came to me 
this morning, Monrief has been playing with some un- 
scrupulous person in a low house, — the lowest of houses, — 
and has lost enormously upou * lxo\xo>3Xx " 



108 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

Sophia grew paJe and sank on a sofa ; she drew out her 
handkerchief, passed it two or three times over her lips, then 
folded her hands on her knee and sat in silent thought. 
Plato had not looked for such indications of serious feeling ; 
he was much surprised, and leaning towards his sister, 
gently took her hand. He was hesitating before asking a 
delicate question, when she raised her frank eyes to her 
brother's, and said simply, " I love him ! " 

" I beg your pardon, dear Sophia," said Plato, much moved 
by her candour. "I ought to have been more cautious, 
and should have informed myself with more certainty before 
I mentioned the matter to you." 

" Who told it you ? " 

" The colonel, and I am certaip that he would not have 
mentioned it had the matter been in the least doubtful. 
He sent for me this morning, and begged me, as Monrief s 
friend, to do my best to prevent any scandal The amount is 
so large that Peter cannot pay it at once, and must gain time 
in some way. The winner has been warned not to play in 
Petersburg any more. But as a regiment, we cannot permit 
any delay in paying a debt of honour, and Monrief, therefore, 
runs the risk of being cashiered." 

" When did this all occur ? " 

** Four or five days ago — Wednesday, I think." 

" Wednesday ? He passed that evening here ; and it was 

after midnight when he left us. Do you know, Plato, that 

• I am convinced that there is some mistake somewhere. I 

look upon the occurrence as an absolute impossibility, so far 

as Monrief is concerned." 

" I had the same conviction myself," said her brother with 
a sigh ; " but when I saw his acknowledgment, signed by 
himself — " 

Sophia's head dropped on the back (tf her chair, and she 
Closed her eyes with the expresBion of \ if e^ou ^\iO Shrinks 



A GAMBLING DEBT. 109 

from a blow. " How much is it 1 " she asked, after a long 
silence. 

'* Forty-two thousand silver roubles ! " 
The princess rose and began to walk up and down the 
room with a quick step. She suddenly stopped at her 
brother's side and took his arm ; they thus walked togethei' 
for some time, seeking some new idea, but finding none. 
Sophia finally spoke. 

"You see," she said to her brother, "I cannot believe in 
this story. Peter is not a gambler ; he never would have 
played when he couM not pay; he is no hypocrite; and 
yesterday and the day before he was precisely the same as 
usual." 

" No ; yesterday he was very much preoccupied." 
" I admit that ; but his preoccupation was not that of a 
man who has lost the greater part of his fortune, and who 
must realise in twenty-four hours. Send him to me." 
" To you ! What are you going to do 1 " 
" I mean to find out the truth first, and then we will 
decide on what we will do, on what we can do — and on what 
we must do. Plato looked doubtfully at his sister. 

" You have often called me Wisdom," she continued with 
a sad smile ; " trust me a little longer. I will do and say 
nothing that I ought not" 

Plato kissed his sister and left her. He could not at once 
find Monrief ; the young ofl&cer's servant said his master had 
been absent since the previous day. Plato saw him at 
last in the distance coming down the avenue, on his best 
trotter. 

" My sister wishes to see you," he said without any cii^ 
cumlocution. 

Monrief turned very pale, and was evidently disturbed. 
" For what 1 " he murmured. 

" That is not my aflfair. Go ^\. wyca* 'Wwso. -^^Ni.\jsc^^ 



110 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

finished with her, come on to me — I have a message to you 
from the colonel." 

Peter had regained his self-possession by this time ; his 
face indicated great determination. " I should like nothing 
better," said he ; " besides, I had already made up my mind 
to have a talk with you." 

" Good ! I shall expect you after you leave my sister." 

" Very well," answered Peter, " till we meet again then," 
and he gave a military salute and departed. 

Plato looked after him, shrugged his shoulders, then went 
to his rooms and buried himself in the newspapers. Mon- 
rief hastened to the princess's house, and ran up the steps all 
out of breath, for he was one of those who never hesitate in 
moments of difficulty. 

He was introduced into the little study, a room that he 
had never before entered. It was twilight without, and of 
course very dark within ; a solitary lamp lighted the high 
room, hung with tapestry so dark that it was almost black 
in the shadow. The pallor of the princess touched him 
deeply. He had no idea that she would have known of this 
afiair. But it was too late to retreat. 

"Take a seat, sir," said the princess, without extending 
her hand to him. He obeyed. 

" I shall proceed at once to the matter in regard to which 
I sent for you," she said. " I have been told that you have 
recently lost a considerable sum at play." Monrief accepted 
her statement with a gesture of acquiescence. " And," con- 
tinued the princess, " I hear that you cannot pay it." 

" Excuse me, princess, I hope by this hour to-morrow to 
have foimd the necessary funds," interrupted Peter in a firm 
voice. 

" Are you sure of this ? " 

" One is never sure of anything,'* replied the young man, 
looking down. 



A GAMBLING DEBT. Ill 

"Do you know that you will be cashiered if you fail to 
pay your debt 1 " 

" It is more than probable," said Monrief, with a careless- 
ness that shocked the princess. 

" This prospect seems to occasion you no uneasiness," she 
continued, in a cold and haughty tone. The young man 
made a vague gesture, which signified either " I do not caro,'* 
or " I am not afraid." 

Sophia examined him with quiet attention. " Monsieur 
Monrief," she said, gently, " you have given me a great deal 
of pain." Peter bowed to the ground, and pressed his lips 
respectfully on the folds of her dress. 

" I had so high an opinion of you," resumed the princess ; 
" I esteemed you as I did no one else ; and to think that 
you, our dearest and most familiar friend, could have been 
engaged in a vulgar adventure — could have been found in a 
house — " She hesitated, seeking the right word. But she 
had not time to complete her sentence. 

Peter started to his feet. "Who said that?" he ex- 
claimed fiercely. " Whoever said it lied !" 

Sophia gasped for breath, and then, whiter than the lace 
at her throat, fell back in her chair. She had fainted. 

Peter took her hands and warmed them with his kisses, 
but he did not call for aid, for he did not desire the pre- 
sence of any third party. In a second or two Sophia opened 
her eyes. 

'* They. have lied to you," he repeated. "I never in my 
life was seen in such infamous society. And after what I 
said to you — after what you know — No, no, princess ; no 
man or woman that breathes has the right to call me 
hypocrite and liar 1" 

Sophia raised her hand, Peter snatched it. "You have 
not played, then," she said eagerly, as she leaned towards him. 

He passed his hand hastily over Vi\a Vst<^^» ^"'X^'^k ^^K^. 



112 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

question me," he said in despair at last ; " believe my word. 
I cannot tell you anything more." 

" I beg of you," she replied, in a beseeching voice : " tell 
me you did not gamble, did you ?" 

Peter covered his face with both hands to prevent it from 
telling what his lips refused to speak. She snatched his 
hands away and forced him to look her in the face. ** It 
was not you," she cried, transported and illuminated, as it 
were, by a sudden idea ; " it was another person ! Tell me 
it was not you I" 

Peter could not lie. " No," he said slowly, " it was not 
I." 

"Ah," said Sophia, transported with delight, and extend- 
ing both hands, " I was sure of it !" 

For a moment they forgot the danger that menaced Peter; 
they forgot the whole busy outside world. Sophia's hand 
was in his, and with eyes looking into each other's eyes they 
remained silent and absorbed. " Tell me all," said Sophia 
at last, seating herself on the sof% and making a place for 
Peter at her side. 

" I cannot," he answered. " Spare me, I beg of you 1 I 
promised never to tell." 

"But to me — you did not promise not to tell me. I 
swear never to repeat one word of all that you may confide 
to me." 

" Not even to Plato ?" 

" Oh, Plato is another self !" 

" But I made a solemn promise," insisted the young oflBcer. 

" So be it," answered Sophia ; " I will not tell him one 
word ; but he is intelligent : should he divine the truth, it 
will certainly not be my fault. Now what happened ?" 

" The night before last," began Peter, " I had just reached 

home, when a young officer, a new-comer in our regiment, 

waa announced. He ia only sixteen, axid comes from a mili- 



A GAMBLING DEBT. 113 

tary school in the country. His head has been turned by 
Petersburg, which is not altogether surprising, considering 
his youth. On Wednesday he had been in the house of 
which you speak ; his very bones were picked clean, and he 
lost more than he could pay in ten years. I was interested 
in him, he was so young; and when a boy has no family re- 
straint or influences to keep him straight, he too often comes 
to grief, for boys of that age are so stupid ! He brought me 
a letter that he wished me to promise to give to his mother. 
He has only a mother. His coming at such an ^our, on 
such an errand, seemed very strange to me. I had heard, 
casually, that one of the oflicers in our regiment had lost a 
considerable amount of money. I questioned the child, and 
he burst into tears. In short, I discovered that the im- 
possibility of paying his debts had determined him to blow 
his brains out. With native genius he had discovered that 
way of escape. Now, what would you have said and done 
had you been in my place ?" 

" Go on," said the princess, with a smile. 

" I first laid clearly before him the utter insanity of his 
conduct. He admitted the entire justice of my remarks, 
and told me that he had decided to apply a radical remedy 
to his faults. I spoke to him then of his mother : I had 
found the sensitive chord at last. He is an only son, adored 
and spoiled. Think of it — his mother possessed an income 
of seven thousand roubles. She sends him six thousand, 
and lives on one herself ! Such mothers should be put in 
prison, and thus be prevented from ruining their sons. In 
short he wept like a young heifer. You laugh ! I did not 
laugh, I assure you. In fact, notwithstanding my own 
lamentable lack of eloquence, I shall always believe^ that 
Providence granted me a special inspiration, for I nearly 
wept with him. I then proposed that he should give 
bills ; but the idiot is a minor : K\% ^w^et \\a^ Xi^-^xv ^'st^ 

H 



114 WAYWARD DOSIA, 

properly refused as worthless. He had gone to a money- 
lender, who sent him away again as empty-handed as ho 
came. Then — " 

" Then you put your signature to the paper ]" said the 
princess, her eyes swimming with happy tears. 

*• Good heavens !" cried Monrief, seeking to excuse himself, 
'* what else could I do 1 I am of age, you see !" 

" And suppose you cannot procure the necessary money 
yourself — by to-morrow, I think you said 1" 

" Yes, to-morrow. Ah, well ! I hardly know what I shall 
do in that case. The worst that can happen to my young 
man is that he will be dismissed the service. His love of 
life has come back to him ; he no longer thinks of blowing 
out his brains. I will give him all the funds that I can 
gather together, and the creditor must content himself with 
my bill for the balance at a distant date." 

** How much have you got together 1" 

" Only twenty-seven thousand roubles, and this with in- 
finite difficulty." 

" Keep up your courage, and the remainder will come," 
said the princess, rising. 

" Are you sending me away ]" said Peter piteously. 

" Do you not remember that my brother is waiting to give 
you a lecture ?" 

" Ah, good heavens 1 I had forgotten him entirely," cried 
Monrief, looking diligently for the cap that he held in his 
hand. " I must be off. If you only knew, princess, how 
easy it is to bear the burden of a fault that one hae not 
committed; I assure you that I would not change places with 
my little comet friend." Peter s bright smile was reflected 
upon the face of the princess. 

" Then," continued he, taking her hand, "you will not be 
angiy with me for causing you so much pain T 
''Nog " she ai3swered, looking at Yiira ^ilVtoMt false shame. 



IHPENITBNOB. 115 

"You are no longer a boy, monsieur, and you have proved 
yourself to-day to be a man endowed with a kind and tender 
heart You may attempt everything, and hope for any- 
thing." 

" Anything V asked Peter, as he retained her hand. 

" Everything," she said, her face flushing under his earnest 
gaze. 

" Ah, well ! When I am once out of this entanglement, I 
shall come to you with a request." 

" Ask it now. I would rather grant it while in the eyes 
of the world you are yet guilty." 

Peter took her in his arms, and whispered some few words 
in her ear in a voice so low that no one has ever known what 
he said. 

" Yes !" she answered, distinctly ; " yes ! and I shall be a 
proud and happy woman !" 

He pressed her to his heart, and departed to find Plato, 
and receive from him, as by deputy, his colonel's reprimand. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

IMPENITENCE. 



MoNRiEF entered his friend's room, with his head high, and 
the joyous expression that befits a man on whom the glory of 
a great happiness has fallen. But a single glance at Sourof 
restored him to a full consciousness of the situation. With 
one leg crossed over the other, and with a very serious coun- 
tenance, Plato looked the personification of authority. 

" You have been gambling 1" he said, seriously. 

Peter only nodded. Lying is not easy to those who have 
not early acquired the habit. 



116 WAYWABD DOBIA. 

" And you have lost?" 

This exact repetition of the questions addressed to him by 
the princess produced in Monrief the strongest possible desire 
to laugh. Again he nodded. 

" More than you can pay T continued Sourof, pitilessly. 

" That last point is not yet proven," said Monrief, good- 
naturedly. " I shall try to respect my own signature. Can 
you lend me a few thousand roubles V 

Plato, utterly astonished, started to his feet. " I lend them 
to you T he asked. 

" Yes, you ! I will return them, you may be quite sure of 
that. If you can't oblige me, just forget that I mentioned 
the matter to you." 

" Can it be possible," cried Plato, harshly, " that you, 
wearing our uniform, can be in the habit of frequenting 
houses that I am unwilling even to name, — houses where you 
lose in one night a sum incredibly large ? Can it be true ? 
You, my bosom-friend, whom I have presented to the in- 
timacy of my family circle, whom I have treated like a — like 
a—" 

" Like a brother," interposed Monrief, as his friend stopped 
short, — " and I mean to act up to the part, I can tell you ! " 

Absolutely aghast at this sang froidy Plato grew very 
angry. " And you have the audacity, finally, to come to me 
to protect you from the consequences of your mad follies ? 
You have actually the audacity to ask me to lend you the 
money you have squandered." 

Peter's eyes were so full of fun, and his whole countenance 
was so little that of a repentant sinner, that Sourof flamed 
out in vehement and angry reproaches. The colonel ; the 
honour of the regiment ; his impending dismissal from the 
army ; his whole future life to be passed in voluntary exile 
in the seclusion of the country; the necessity, at what- 
ever coat, of paying this debt of honour, — all fonned 



mPENITBNCK. 117 

tho theme of a discourse that fell in a flood of eloquence on 
the devoted head of the undisturbed Monrief, who listened 
without a frown, but with an air of great attention, shaking 
his head sympathetically at the most touching words. 

When Sourof stopped to breathe, or, perhaps, because he 
had really nothing more to say, Peter rose, his face glowing 
with kindly emotion. " You are the very best and truest 
friend in the world," he cried. " You have spoken like my 
own conscience. I shall thank you all my life." 

" And what are you going to do ?" asked Plato, somewhat 
softened by this cordiality. 

" I am going to find the funds somewhere else, since you 
will not lend them to me !" said the delinquent, with the 
most joyous expression in the world. 

The hand that Plato had generously extended to his fallen 
brother officer dropped at his side. Was this the result of 
his sermon ? Peter was buckling on his sabre". 

" What am I to say to the colonel ?" asked Sourof coldly. 

" Anything you choose, my dear fellow, — anything that 
comes into your head. To-morrow everything will be 
settled." 

Plato's lips were compressed, and for some time he remained 
silent. "What does my sister say r he then inquired. "How 
does she lik3 your extremely original manner of receiving 
our expostulations ?" 

Peter, already in the ante-room, was throwing on his cloak. 
" Ah, my friend," he cried suddenly, unable longer to contain 
himself, " congratulate me : I am the happiest of men 1" He 
then gave the astonished Sourof a hearty shake of the hand, 
and dashed down the stone steps, accompanied by a loud rat- 
tling of spurs and sword. 

Plato remained in a state of great perplexity, and at the 
end of five minutes decided to see his sister again. She 
received him this time in the dra^m^-xwyai, "^w^ \iaSi. ^ 



118 WAYWARD D081A. 

bright colour, and her whole face was radiant ; she pre- 
sented, in fact, an image of perfect happiness. Dosia, at the 
piano, was playing a waltz from Offenbach. 

" What gaiety ! " said Plato, as he entered the room. 

" Tis something in the air of this house, Count Plato," 
answered Dosia, without stopping ; " we are always gay 
here, very gay." 

Plato took a seat at his sister's side, as far as possible from 
the instrument. "You have seen Monrief?" ho said. 

" Yes, I have seen him." 

" Well, how much of the story is true ? " 

The princess looked at her brother with an expression of 
happy pride. " Nothing ! " she answered. 

" How do you mean ? Nothing ? " 

"Very little. By the way, can you lend me a few 
thousand roubles ? " 

Plato started to his feet and paced the salon with rapid 
strides. " Tis a bet they've made ! " he ciied. 

At this moment Dosia rose from the piano. As she 
turned, she met the count face to face. The girl's satisfied, 
happy countenance completed his annoyance. " Come ! " he 
cried in a vexed tone, " tell us what amuses you so much. 
If it be myself, let me assure you that I find the joke ex- 
tremely unpleasant." 

" Who is laughing at you, sir ] " said Dosia, opening her 
big eyes to their widest extent, and putting her head a little 
on one side, after her usual fashion when she wished to 
clearly understand a difficult problem. 

" You ! " cried Sourof, angrily. 

The princess touched her brother's arm. '* Plato," she 
said gently, " Monrief is a hero ! " 

" For having committed this infamous folly ? ** 

"He is a hero !" repeated the princess, calmly. 

^'He baa told you some fib," grumbled Plato, "and you have 



IMPENITENCE. 119 

been simple enough to believe him." The princess turned pale, 
and withdrew the hand which still lay on her brother's arm. 

" Peter never lies 1 " cried Dosia, coming to the rescue ; 
"I can't endure him, it is true, but he never lies !" Plato, 
less and less satisfied, twisted and pulled his moustache, 
looking from one to the other of the two women. 

"I have promised not to tell anything," resumed the princess, 
gravely ; " but the money must be found, and the debt be 
paid in full to-morrow morning." 

"And you are determined to pay it?" asked Sourof, slowly. 

" I count on your assistance. With what amount can you 
oblige me 1 " 

" Oblige you ! My dear sister, what are you thinking of 1 
How can you lend Monrief money ! If he should accept it 
he would himself be the most degraded of men." 

" And why, pray 1 May not a man accept anything from 
his wife ? " 

" His wife ! " 

Sourof, completely overwhelmed, dropped into a chair. 
Dosia, with her head still a little on one side, like an inquisitive 
bird, watched him with some anxiety ; seeing that he had no 
intention of fainting, she laughed, but so quietly that he 
hardly noticed it. 

" Yes, his wife !" repeated the princess, elevating her head 
proudly. " He has the most noble heart, the most generous 
nature, the most—" 

" In my opinion," cried Plato, rising impatiently, " it is 
the noblest natures that are capable of the greatest follies. 
It is very droll, is it not ? " he said, turning to Dosia, who 
was still looking at him earnestly. " It is droll enough," he con- 
tinued sarcastically, " to see a clever woman guilty of an ir- 
remediable folly." 

" It is not that which I consider droll," replied Dosia 
promptly. Her old nature was not yet coiic\v\eT^d, 



120 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

" And what then, mademoiselle ? " 

" Yourself." 

Plato stiffened perceptibly. " Ah ! you do me great hon- 
our. And why, please ? " 

"Because you are angry without knowing at what," re- 
turned the young rebel. "There is really nothing more 
amusing than to see a clever man running tilt at windmills. 
But I am only a little girl," she added, with a curtsey; then 
turning to the princess — " Dear friend," she said, " if you 
cannot bring him to terms, summon me to your assistance ; " 
and she sailed out of the room with infinite dignity, leaving 
Plato more disturbed than before. 

" So you confide to Dosia a secret which you conceal from 
me r he said to his sister, reproachfully. 

" I have confided nothing to her," she answered ; " but 
you know how clear-sighted she is, simple as she seems. She 
guessed the truth at once." 

" What did she guess T 

" That her cousin could not have committed so abominable 
a folly." 

"Who did then, if he did notl" 

" Has he told you nothing T 

" You see he has not. For the two last hours, between 
Peter, you, and Dosia, I have been in a state of utter be- 
wildeniient." 

" Ah, well, dear brother, try to see as clearly as Dosia ; for 
I am absolutely bound by a promise, and can tell you nothing." 

Plato at the end of an hour left his sister in perfect harmony 
with her, and bearing with him all her securities. He hastened 
to his rooms, examined his own papers, took what he had of 
value, and went at once to find Monrief 

Peter, tired out by his ineffectual exertions to raise the re- 

guisite funds, had just returned to his quarters; he had 

thrown himself oi full length on the sofa, and was meditating 



IMPBNITENCB. 121 

on the folly of mankind in general, and young comets in par- 
ticular. The announcement of a visit from his friend gave 
him no pleasure, for he anticipated a second edition of the 
morning's lecture. 

" I came to see if I could be of any service to you," said 
the count as he entered the room. 

" Thank you," answered Peter, somewhat embarrassed. 

" I wish also to apologize for my gross injustice. Will you 
forgive me ?" said Plato, taking both hands of his friend in 
his own. 

" Ah," exclaimed Monrief, " she has told you !" 

" No, my dear fellow : she — I suppose you mean my sister 
— she has not said one word ; but I guessed. There is no- 
thing that I would not do for my brother. Take this pocket- 
book : in it [ think you will find the amount necessary to 
wind up this tiresome aflFair." 

Peter grasped his friend's hand, and this time the pressure 
was returned. " What a magnificent woman your sister is !" he 
said, when he was calm enough to utter a connected sentence. 

"I have often told you," replied Plato with brotherly pride, 
" that there was only one Sophia in the world." 

" I am not worthy of her !" murmured Peter, shaking his 
head ; " I know not how she ever consented — " 

" There are many worse fellows than you !" interrupted 
Sourof. " Besides, I am delighted to Have you for a brother- 
in-law. But now let us to business." 

The two friends settled their accounts, and when all was 
arranged Plato rose. " I am going to the colonel," he said ; 
" I really believe that that most excellent of men will be glad 
to see me." 

" What are you going to say to him V* cried Peter, some- 
what startled. 

" Say to himjj simpleton 1 Why, that your debts will be 
paid, of course." ^ 



122 WAYWARD BOSIA. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

PRINCE MINKOF. 

"What on earth, my child, were you saying to Prince 
Minkof ?" asked the princess, one evening, of Dosia, who was 
watching her undress on returning from the theatre. 

"What did T say to him T said the girl abstractedly; "why, 
I hardly know. But what did he tell you?' demanded she with 
more vivacity. 

" He said that he had not been able to comprehend one 
word you had uttered," replied the princess, laughing. " If 
my answer is not sufficiently clear, remember that it is your 
own fault." 

Dosia's face lighted up, her white teeth were visible for a 
moment, then she became very grave. " I told him that I 
did not understand how any one could be foolish enough to 
wish to marry me," continued Dosia, after a long pause. 

"Then it was an absolute offer of marriage which he made?" 
said the princess, trying not to laugh. 

" Yes," answered the girl. " If he considered my words 
impertinent, it shows that I understood his proposal correctly; 
if he looked upon them as mere girlish nonsense, it shows 
that I was mistaken. Is not that plain ?" 

" Not very," said the princess. 

" At all events it is quite as plain as his own speech, which 

was this : * Mademoiselle Dosia, the ties of marriage are as 

sacred as they are indissoluble. Happy is the man who Bnds 

}n thia ^eat desert of a world the wife who can brighten his 

home, and become the crowning glory of Ivia life. And, 



PBINCB MINROF, 123 



mademoiselle, could I hope to be this man, I should consider 
myself happy for all future time/ " 

" Ah, Dosia ! Dosia ! he did not say that !" 

" Almost exactly. I doubt if I have changed one word. 
You see that a question so put did not merit any great lucidity 
in reply." 

" But, child, he asked me how your mother would receive 
him; so the matter is serious. Shall I write to your mother T' 

'* Good heavens, no !" cried Dosia. " There is an old adage : 
* Let sleeping dogs — ' " 

" Hush, hush !" said the princess reproachfully, laying her 
finger on the girl's lips. 

" Very well ; I will not finish my sentence. You see," 
continued the girl, " I am growing very good, and very 
sensible now-a-days. I even stop in the middle of my most 
well-turned phrases. I merely wished to say, that it is six 
months since my well-beloved mother gave me a lecture, and 
that this loss has been easy for me to bear. Besides, when I 
wish to marry, if I have the counsel of the wise Sophia, I shall 
have no occasion for my mother's assistance." 

"Prince Mink of is rich, young, and well connected." 

*' And as stupid as a goose," interrupted Dosia, with her 
eyes riveted on the ceiling. 

" Not as a goose," remarked the princess. 

" As stupid, then, as an old gander," retorted Dosia; "but 
I doubt if he is any worse than the others." 

" He whom one loves, my dear, is never like 'the others,'" 
interrupted the princess. 

"That may be," muttered Dosia; "but the He of my 
heart won't be Prince Minkof." Sophia looked at her in quiet 
sui prise. The girl blushed deeply, and began to play with 
the scent bottles on the toilet table. 

" What do you decide, then, in regard to Minkof 1 " said 
the princess, who had finished plaiting her baix* 



{ 



124 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

" I do not know. I will a^k your brother what he thinks," 
said Dosia. " He is a good counsellor." She kissed her 
friend and disappeared. 

The next day Plato was quietly smoking a cigarette, 
when he saw Dosia coming down the long salon to join him 
in the dining-room. The princess was dressing to go out. 
The hour was well chosen. 

" Good heavens ! " cried Plato, " how serious you look, 
cousin." Since Sophia's engagement to Peter, he treated the 
girl less ceremoniously, and often called her his cousin in jest. 

"Because we are going to talk of solemn matters," 
answered Dosia gravely. 

She took a seat opposite him. A table separated them ; a 
golden ray of the April sun glanced through the heavy 
curtains, and tenderly touched a curl on the girPs head and 
a fold of her pale violet skirt. She was the veriest April 
herself, alternate rain and sunshine, caprices and promises, — 
an April which knew nothing of itself, was certain of nothing, 
and was ruled by a barometer; and the barometer was 
Plato. 

" I am ready," he said putting down his tea-cup. 

More than once had the coimt been called upon to decide 
some grave question of toilette or etiquette, — and he 
supposed that some new complication had arisen thereanent. 

** Do you advise me to marry ? " said Dosia, abruptly, with 
her eyes cast down and the colour rising to her cheek. 

The shock was great. Armed as he was, or flattered 
himself he was, against the caprices of Mademoiselle 
Zaptine, Plato had never dreamt of such an one as this. 
But why not? — she was old enough to be married. He 
regained his self-possession, and with no other indication of 
emotion than that his face, ordinarily so pale, was faintly 
£ushed, he replied : "That depends on circumstances." 
'' What circumstances ? " asked Dom. 



FRINGE HINEOF. 125 

" Many. First, whom do you think of marrying, if I may 
be allowed to ask such a question 1 " 

" But I don't think of marrying at all ! " cried Dosia, 
striking a decided little blow on the table with the teaspoon 
with which she had been playing. 

Plato bit his lip. " In that case," he said, " why have you 
asked me such a serious question 1 " 

" Because it is possible that I might take it into my head 
to marry," replied Dosia, as she broke a lump of sugar into 
square morsels with the handle of a silver knife. 

"When you really think of taking such a step. Mademoiselle 
Dosia, I shall be glad to give you any advice or assistance in 
my power." 

Dosia arranged her bits of sugar in a straight line before 
her, and looked at Plato out of the comer of her eye. " You 
have always impressed upon me," she said, " the necessity of 
resolving on nothing suddenly, and the propriety of thinking 
a long time over every important step in life." 

Plato bowed coldly, seized by a sudden desire to pull the 
ear of this troublesome pupil, who repeated her lesson so 
remarkably welL " I am at your orders," he said at last. 
"Will you kindly explain yourself? " 

Dosia resumed her occupation with the sugar. " Prince 
Minkof has asked me to marry him," she said finally. 
" What would you advise me to do ? " 

Plato examined the texture of the linen on the table, and 
all his anger vented itself on Minkof. "That fooU" he 
muttered. 

" Yes," answered Dosia in the most ingenious of tones, 
" that fool !" and the sugar was energetically hammered once 
more. 

" For heaven's sake," cried Plato, " let that sugar alone I 
Have you no mercy on. my nerves ? " 

"I am not nervous," she ana^^t^d, m ^ \ft\3ka ^\\is«3iv?^ 



■i 



126 WATWABD DOSIA. 

commiseration for people who were tormented with such 
inconvenient accessories as nerves. She pushed back her 
chair, however, out of reach of temptation, leaving the sugar 
to an early fly who had emerged from the shelter of the 
curtains. But in changing her position she moved oat jf 
the sunshine, and all at once the room seemed to grow dark 
and dreary. 

" Generally speaking," resumed Dosia, " would you think 
me sensible enough to take the management of a house, and 
assume the duties of a married woman ? " 

Plato laughed. " Sensible enough 1 Well, that depends 
— when you are not hammering and grinding a lump of sugar, 
you are agreeable enough." 

A furtive smile appeared in the comers of Dosia^s dainty 
lips. She dipped the tips of her fingers in the slop basin, 
then dried them on her lace handkerchief, and — remained 
silent. Plato saw that he must go on. " Marriage," he said, 
" is certainly a most serious thing. If the husband is very 
sensible, and the wife less so, a certain equilibrium is estab- 
lished which — " He saw on Dosia's face an expression — a 
something, that stopped him. She was looking him full in 
the face with her large innocent eyes. 

" Then," she said, " you mean that I ought to marry a very 
sensible man ? " Plato, somewhat irritated, made no reply. 

"And if," she continued, "such a man wished me to 
marry him, you would advise me to say yes ? " 

Suddenly a vision of that dinner at the mess-table, the 

bowl of punch, the tale told by Peter, — all that crowd of 

hideous recollections rose like spectres before Plato, and 

broke the charm that enwrapped him. " That depends," he 

answered curtly. " Each person must decide for himself on 

such points. You must follow the dictates of your own 

conscience) " and he turned abruptly on his heel and left the 
I' room. 



PRINGB MINEOF. 127 

" The capricious April sunshine had vanished ; a fierce 
shower of wind and rain beat against the window. Dosia sat 
motionless. The large room was very dark ; the heavy 
curtains intercepted the little light that came from the sky, 
over which heavy black clouds were driven by a fierce wild 
wind. A tear fell from the girVa eyes, then came another, 
and still more brilliant drops followed in rapid succession, 
each leaving a dark spot on the pretty violet skirt. The 
clouds passed over, carrying elsewhere hail and devastation ; 
a pale yellow sunbeam slipped into the dining-room ; the blue 
sky was again to be seen from the window ; the sun touched 
the silver plates on the sideboard, causing them glitter like huge 
spangles, and made each gilt nail glisten in the high-backed 
morocco chair where Dosia sat and broke the sugar. The fly came 
back to the table-cloth. The young girl alone had not moved. 

" Where is Dosia ? " said the princess in the halL " It 
does not rain now, and we are going out." 

Dosia retreated by one door as Sophia entered by the other. 
A moment later she reappeared with her hat on, gloved and 
veiled, and no one suspected that she had shed a tear. 

Spring advanced. Madame Zap tine claimed her daughter; 
Sophia promised to take her back before Whitsuntide, that 
is to say, before her own marriage with Peter, as the newly 
married pair were to travel for a month. Madame Zaptine 
invited the three friends to spend the week before the wed- 
ding with her. Urged and implored by Dosia, the princess 
consented. 

" What will become of me when you are no longer near 
me ? " said the young girl sadly. 

"You will come back to me next winter," replied the 
princess. 

Dosia shook her head mournfully. " When one is 
eighteen, next winter is synonymous with the Greek kalends." 

Since the April showers she h«k.d \>^^Qimft evsiCvt^ ^ 



128 WAYWABD DOSIA. 

and was not in the least like herself. If the princess had 
not been absorbed by the preparations for her marriage, she 
would assuredly have noticed this sudden alteration ; as it 
was, she did not think about it. Peter had eyes only for 
Sophia; Plato thought but of himself; and while he did 
battle with his conscience and his philosophy, the cause of 
all his anxiety and doubts, Dosia herself, had strangely 
changed. 

On the evening of their arrival at Madame Zaptine*s, their 
eyes were all at once opened to the truth, until then 
unsuspected. The mother's exclamation awakened them. 
" Good heavens ! " cried Madame Zaptine, " you must have 
been very ai, Dosia, to have grown so thin.'' 

The ten pairs of eyes then in the room were all turned at once 
on the young girl, who became bright scarlel* The flush gave 
a fleeting brilliancy to her complexion and eyes. 

" It is only that I have grown wiser, mamma," she said, 
in a voice to which she endeavoured to give a joyous tone ; 
but her attempt was a melancholy failure. She burst into 
tears and fled from the room. 

" She so much regrets parting with you, dear madame," 
said the good mother, seeking to do away with the effect of her 
former remark, which, she thought, might be construed by 
the princess into a reproach. 

"Yes," Sophia replied thoughtfully; "but I had no idea 
that she would feel my loss so much. I should like to con- 
sole her in some way, but I really do not see what — " 

" Pshaw ! " interrupted an elder sister ; " it would be quite 
as well, I should say, if she learnt to stay at home oc- 
casionally. None of us have been away, and we are all in 
capital health." 

Plato looked at the speaker with much distaste, and turned 
his hack upon her. "Poor little bird," he thought, "the 
oa^e-door is to he shut and her wmg% c\\p^d." 



PRINCE MINKOP. 129 

« 

The next day, soon after sujarise, Dosia went down into 
the garden. The swing on which she had sat with her 
cousin was a little more defaced and weather-worn than the 
year before, but the caterpillars were falling profusely as 
ever. Dosia avoided the see-saw, and took a path to 
the left, down past the tall lilac-bushes, now laden with 
flowers. 

Plato had spent a wretched, restless night, asking himself 
if it was the gay life and change of air that had stolen the 
colour from Mademoiselle Zaptine's cheeks and robbed her 
graceful form of its rounded outlines. 

A secret desire to examine the garden, possibly to assure 
himself that Peter in describing it had adhered strictly to 
the truth, induced Sourof to leave his rooqa at a very early 
hour. Peter's account of the topography of the grounds 
had been exact : the framework of his foolish freak was all 
there, including the see-saw, the breakneck steps, and the 
lawn where they played GorelkL The huge black head of 
Dosia's dog appeared at the mouth of a dog-kennel in the 
court-yard. Plato went still deeper into the garden, to 
drink to the last drop his cup of bitterness, and to find the 
ruined summer house where Dosia had asked her cousin to 
elope with her. 

It was a walk of some few minutes to the place in ques- 
tion ; an occasional gleam of sunlight glittering on the river 
pointed out to him the direction in which to proceed. At 
the end of a long avenue shaded by linden-trees he saw a 
low, blue-roofed kiosk, and reached it through the overgrown 
paths of the old labyrinth. Monrief had exactly described 
it, even to the plaster columns where the red bricks appeared 
in places like the rawness of a wound. Sourof passed under 
the cupola ; the stone benches, half covered with moss, were 
still there. A huge toad squatted in a comer and watched 
Plato with fixed attention for a few iiiome\vt%^ ^\A *0^'e».^^>5^ 

. 1 



130 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

a sudden leap, disappeared in the high grass, which was 
gradually encroaching on this dilapidated resting-place. 

The young man took a seat on one of the damp benches 
and gave himself up to dreary reflections. Was all this 
hideous story perfectly true, then ? Why had not Monrief 
had the charity to hold his tongue ? Had he done so, he 
would have spared his friend all this tempest of doubts and 
distrust. 

"I was destined to love her," said Plato to himself, with 
that fatalism which is a characteristic part of the Russian 
idiosyncrasy ; " and as I was to love her, why could I not 
have been permitted to love her blindly 1 " 

In a fit of utter depression, which amounted almost to 
despair, he permitted his head to fall forward upon his 
breast, and sat buried in painful thought. A slight sound 
aroused him. On the other side of the summer house, 
fmmed as it were by the lilac-bushes with their feathery 
plumes of flowers, Dosia stood watching him sadly, her hands 
hung before her loosely folded. As he lifted his eyes, she 
nodded to him gravely, almost solemnly, and glided away 
through the dense foliage. Plato made no effort to join her, 
and remained where he was, until the sound of a bell reminded 
him of the breakfast hour. 

The Zaptine mansion was the temple of Disorder. If this 
god had other altars, the incense burned for him in this 
especial dwelling must have been peculiarly agreeable to him, 
for he certainly sojourned there by choice. Breakfast would 
be on the table for two long hours at the least, one after 
another of the family and the visitors dropping in at inter- 
vals. By the especial favour shown by providence to un- 
punctual people, those who had something to say to each 
other never contrived to meet — one always finishing too 
ffoon^ and the other beginning too late. Finally, however, 
the party all assembled on the wi^\c "jpiaiaa. 



FRINGB HINEOF. 131 

"What are you all going to do this morning?" said Ma- 
dame Zaptine. ** Something pleasant should be decided on, 
for the day is superb." 

An excursion party was quickly organised. They would 
take tea in the woods, and would return along the banks of 
the river, which was then full to the brim, and which ran 
through charming meadow lands. A cart was sent on in 
advance, with a corps of servants, and every imaginable 
dainty. 

About four o'clock the party started, some in the carriage, 
others in a huge country droschki — a long machine, in which 
one can hardly keep one's seat. Dosia insisted on mounting 
her dear Bayard, who in the absence of his^ young mistress 
had perfected himself yet further in the art of smashing the 
water-cart. An inspection of the coach-house had shown a 
lamentable deficiency of saddles, so that the other young 
people were compelled to take their seats in either the 
carriage or the droschki. 

Dosia, in her long riding-habit of dark blue, wearing a 
Hemi Quatre felt hat with its traditional white feather, 
managed her steed with perfect confidence and ease. For 
five minutes she trotted along peacefully enough by the side 
of the carriage in which her mother was doing the honours 
of her domain to her guests ; but this extreme propriety 
soon wearied the girl to death ; she touched Bayard with her 
whip, and he immediately dashed off at full speed, envelop- 
ing the people in the carriage in a cloud of white dust. In 
a few moments the rider and the horse were seen far in the 
distance, going in the direction of the forest. 

" She will certainly break her neck ! " cried the princess. 

"No," sighed Madame Zaptine wearily; "she always 
rides like that, and yet nothing ever happens to her ! " 



132 WAYWARD DOSIA. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

A PICNIC. 

Upon reaching an open place in the woods, the party found 
tea waiting for them. The turf, enamelled with small 
flowers, made the softest of carpets. A large damask cloth 
glittered like a piece of white satin on the fresh green grass ; 
bowls of sweet cream, pyramids of cakes, basins of clotted 
cream, surrounded by ice to keep it cool, stood on the cor- 
ners of the cloth. The air was soft, and the warmth just 
what it should be. A thousand fragrant flowers were in 
bloom on all sides. Above in the thick foliage of the elm- 
trees a blackbird's* note was heard above the warbling of 
other winged creatures ; afar off was heard the persistent 
call of the cuckoo, which every little while would suddenly 
cease, only to begin again; its temporary silence leaving, 
however, a strange vacancy in the forest orchestra. 

Dosia came to meet them as the two vehicles drove up. 
She had dismounted from her horse and held her hat in her 
hand, and, with her long skirt thrown over her arm, she 
moved about, as entirely at her ease as in the princess' draw- 
ing-room ; but her pretty face had lost the coaxing, rebellious 
expression which seemed to beg pardon in advance for the 
epigram in readiness to leap from her lips. Her hair was no 
longer worn in rich curls over her shoulders. Since her 
eighteenth birthday, Dosia had put up her abundant tresses ; 
but their ireight had now dragged out the comb, and her hair 
fell far down on her skirts without laeT uoWcm^ it. It was 



A PICNIC. 133 

thus that she met Plato, grave, almost haughty ; sad, with a 
shade of bitterness about the mouth. No, this was not 
Dosia ; this girl was a woman who had learned to suffer, and 
who wished to suffer in silence. 

This apparition made a profound impression on Sourof s 
imagination. He felt certain that Dosia's brain was hard at 
work. What would come of it ? Wisdom or folly ? Would 
a new Dosia appear, more serious, more womanly, and more 
worthy of being loved ? 

With a movement full of grace, the young girl threw back 
her tresses, and all her gravity disappeared. They seated 
themselves on the turf and were soon guilty of a thousand 
absurdities. Cups were tipped over, and basins of cream 
ran like white brooks over the grass. Plates were passed 
round full, and were returned empty, without any one 
being able to say what had become of their contents. In 
a word, all the romping gaiety which ought to be the 
invariable accompaniment of an open-air repast was at its 
height. 

Dosia's sisters were always amiable in society. They re- 
served all their ill-humour for their home life, on the theory 
that at home one can take one's ease. Dosia did her best to 
add to the hilarity of the occasion. Her silvery laugh rang 
far above the others at times, and Plato heard it with mingled 
pain and pleasure. This laugh should indicate a happy 
heart, free from care. At length he allowed himself to be 
carried away by the pleasant harmony of glad human 
laughter and forest springtide joy. 

" There is nothing more to be said about it," cried Dosia, 
flinging herself on the turfy bank, and placing one arm under 
her head, while she drew her little feet well up under the 
long, sweeping folds of her skirt. She looked like one of 
those angelic faces in pictures whose bodies fade away in 
floating drapery. " There is nothing TJ\sst^ \ft \i^ ^^>SOJ ^SssSk 



134 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

repeated. "Mamma has lectured me, and I must submit. 
She says that I may say * thou ' to Sophia, whom I have 
known less than a year, but that I must invariably address 
my cousin as 'you.' I am ready to do my best to conform 
to these rules, but I shall end, I know, in disgracing myself 
by forgetting them ; for they are really too foolish — all these 
questions of etiquette — to be remembered." 

The newly engaged pair laughed, Madame Zaptine began 
a little sermon, while Plato rose impatiently, for the repast 
was nearly over. 

** Unless the personification of Wisdom says to the con- 
trary," broke in Peter, irreverently interrupting his aunt, 
" I can see no objection to the continuance of the old habit. 
I am sure I shall not complain." 

Sophia looked from her brother to Dosia. " I see no harm 
in it," she said with a smile ; but her eyes betrayed a vague 
uneasiness. 

Dosia, still lying on the turf, looking lip into the waving 
branches of the trees and the glimpses of blue sky above, 
paid little heed to what was going on about her. Suddenly 
looking round, however, she caught the anxious expression 
in Sophia's face. In a second she was on her feet, and leav- 
ing the group among whom she had been, she turned away 
in an opposite direction from the one where Plato was lost in 
meditation, and went toward a climip of trees on the edge of 
the opening. From this spot she had a view of the winding 
forest road, the dark carriages, and the lighter coloured 
horses which had not been unharnessed. 

She looked first on one side and then on the other, leaning 

sadly against an old tree that had withstood the snows and 

tempests of a century. She did not weep, for she had shed 

all her tears that morning ; but standing with pendent arms 

and bowed Jbead^ she looked down on the ground. A shadow 

fell before her; she raised her head. YSsdSfi «>\joQd watching 



A Piomo. 135 

the swift changes on her sensitive face. She showed no sur- 
prise on seeing him. 

" I wish that I were dead," she said gently, without any 
other expression than that of slight fatigue ; " it is so hard 
to live ! " 

Struck to the heart, he could not speak. " Happily life 
is long," he said at last, with a vague smile. '* One has ample 
time to change one's views — " 

He was stopped short in his pleasantry by a look from 
Dosia, and his words sounded in his own ears as false 
as the notes of a cracked bell. " It is so hard to live," re- 
peated Dosia, shaking her head drearily ; " still one must 
try, I suppose, to become accustomed to the daily battle. 
But it is intolerably stupid ! " 

She moved away from the trunk of the old tree against 
which she had been leaning. Her long riding-skirt, which 
she had dropped from her hands, trailed on the turf as she 
passed along ; her delicate and fragile figure swayed as she 
moved with all the grace of one of the young birch trees sur- 
rounding her. Plato had a mad impulse to follow her, to 
snatch her in his arms, and cry, " Live for me." 

" Dosia !" called Monrief, in the singing voice used by the 
peasantry when they summon their cattle from the woods at 
night, — " Dosia, shall 1 bring your French knight to you V* 

" Yes, if you please," she answered. Plato fell from his 
heights again into the gulf of his perplexities. 

Peter brought up the poor beast, who was really as gentle 
as a lamb when Dosia did not interfere with him. 

"Shall I make him leap the ditch?" said Peter to his 
cousin ; " you can mount on the road." 

"Why?" asked Dosia; "it is just as well to mount here." 

Hardly had Peter time to see that the girths were all 
right, when the girl, just touching the hand he held out for 
her assistance, was in the saddle. H^ ^xx^nx\.^^\ ^i^^ 'IjSsSssa. ^ 
her dress around her dendex fe^\.» \i>K^^ YSa^^^-k ^ >§k5s^ 



136 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

jealousy, asked himself if it were not his duty to open his 
srster's eyes. 

Monrief turned his frank face toward his friend. " This 
time she will certainly break her neck," he said to Plato, 
with the kind intention of teasing Dosia. The girl laughed, 
and gave him a slight touch with her whip, which threw his 
white cap into the grass ; then, drawing up her horse with- 
out giving any one any idea of her intention, she leapt the 
ditch, which was of no inconsiderable width, pulling up sharp 
on the other side. 

" Not to-day," she said to Bayard, as she patted bis neck ; 
" not to-day," she repeated. " And when we do kill our- 
selves, good friend, we will die together — shall we not ? " 

She started for home alone, while the party were packing 
themselves away in the carriages. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

A COLD BATH. 



DosiA kept with the vehicles when they had once started, 
trotting peacefully along, sometimes at the side of the 
droschki, sometimes by the caliche, and was so gentle and 
amiable that her mother hardly knew her. 

"Ah, my dear princess,'* said Madame Zaptine at last, 
moved almost to tears, " it is to you that I owe this extra- 
ordinary change ; it is you who have made my wild Dosia 
into this charming girl." 

" There is a good deal, though, of the old Dosia left under 
this prepossessing exterior," said the princess, smiling. 

But Madame Zaptine was very well content with all she 
saw; and continued to praise her daughter. The object of 



A COLD BATH. 137 

all these commendations continued to trot calmly on, and 
threw in an occasional observation characterised by such ex- 
treme good sense that her sisters, in surprise at the change, 
positively forgot to be jealous. 

The road home ran along the margin of the river. A short 
distance down on the opposite shore stood a small village. 
The wooden houses were some of them blackened by time, 
while others were quite new, and many of them were painted 
red, and some among them were even gild*ed. The level rays 
of the sun shone full in the faces of the party and threw 
long shadows on the road. Dosia amused herself by insisting 
that Bayard should tread on the shadows of the horses in 
the caliche. Every one was more or less fatigued, and con- 
versation flagged. 

The river lay before them, nmning swiftly, blue and deep. 
Three tall posts indicated a ford. Many of the rivers in 
Russia, which in spring run like mountain torrents filled to 
overflowing, dwindle in summer to the merest threads. The 
fords are then made use of by foot-passengers ; but as yet 
the season was so early that the water was still very deep. A 
peasant driving a telega drawn by a single horse came down 
from the village on the opposite bank, and drove into the 
stream, following the somewhat problematical line indicated 
by the three posts. The carriages drew up to see how this 
perilous passage was to be accomplished. 

The peasant's horse evinced a very great reluctance to the 
cold bath intended for him by his master, and finally pro- 
ceeded to show this distaste after a very active fashion ; but 
being the weaker of the two, he was obliged to yield : he 
advanced a few feet, and then stood still. The peasant per- 
mitted him to breathe for a minute or two. 

" The water is very high," said Madame Zaptine ; " he 
will have some difficulty in getting over." 

** Is the ford dangerous ?" asked Plato. 



138 WAtWAUD toosI^ 

" No, not if it is carefully adhered to ; but if you get out 
of the exact line, the Jbed of the river here shelves rapidly 
and precipitously, so that if a horse can't swim, he is lost." 

The peasant had made another start ; the horse went on 
with very great distrust ; the water rose over the wheels ; 
the horse began to swim, and the man was up to his shoulders 
in the current. 

" God help me !" cried the peasant in terror. 

" He is out of the ford ?" exclaimed the spectators with 
one voice. 

Dosia, with her eyebrows drawn together in a deep frown, 
and nostrils dilated, looked with all her eyes, but did not 
speak. With the quick movement of a cat she stooped and 
lifted the long, trailing folds of her habit and threw them 
over the saddle, gave Bayard a sharp cut with her whip, and 
was off like an arrow. 

" Dosia !" cried her mother in despair, " what are you 
going to do ?" 

A dozen or more little shrieks followed — the two young 
men leaped into the road. But Dosia was already in the 
water. Bayard knew the ford so well that there was no 
danger of his making a mistake. He went on boldly but 
cautiously, snorting loudly, not from fear, but with delight. 

When Dosia was quite in the middle of the river, and 
only a few feet from the cart, it had almost disappeared, the 
horse was wildly plunging and kicking, and the peasant in- 
voking every saint in paradise. 

The girl hesitated for a moment ; then, making the sign 
of the cross, she left the ford. Bayard began to swim, and 
they both, horse and rider, almost disappeared from sight. 
A cry of anguish was heard from the shore ; the young men 
had thrown their coats off and were about to plunge into the 
water. 
''No, no I" Dosia, called out to tTiem, hsx clear ringing 



A COLD BATH. 13d 

voice sounding through the soft spring air like a bugle call. 
No, no ! I shall do it in a moment, with the help of God !" 

She stretched out her arm, seized the bridle of the poor 
mare, who meekly submitted, feeling instinctively that she 
was safe. Bayard of himself found the ford again, and a few 
moments later the two horses, the cart, the peasant, and 
Dosia herself, reached the shore, where they all stood, drip- 
ping like Neptune's court. The peasant overwhelmed his 
rescuer with apologies and thanks. 

" You will take cold, Dosia !" cried Madame Zaptine. 
"You must be crazy, child ! Ah, that girl will be the death 
of me !" While she thus sighed and lamented, Dosia was 
again far away. Bayard bore her swiftly home. 

Not a word was spoken within the carriages as the party 
completed their drive. Each was absorbed in his own 
thoughts. The coachmen needed no orders to drive fast, 
and the eyes of her friends saw traces of Dosia in the 
little dark line in the dust made by the water that had 
dripped from her heavy skirts and from her horse. Finally 
the overheated, breathless horses drew up before the hoyise. 

Notwithstanding the haste made by all the party, Plato was 
the first person in the dining-room, and the first object which 
met his eyes was Dosia, already disembarrassed of her wet 
clothing, and wrapped in a voluminous flannel dressing-gown 
of her mother's. She was standing, very pale, and shivering 
with cold. 

"I came here, mamma," she said, "on account of the 
wooden floor, and they have brought me your things. Am 
I not absurd?" She laughed, but her teeth chattered. 
They made her go to the sofa, and wrapped her, notwith- 
standing all her protestations, in warm blankets ; and the 
tea-urn, thanks to an intelligent servant, appeared at once. 

When she had taken a second cup of hot tea, Dosia ceased 
to shiver, and the colour came back to hat <iJcife^K5ib. '\^assi. 



140 WAYWARD BOSIA. 

Madame Zaptine, hitherto restrained by her anxiety, began 
a sermon. 

" Mamma," said the young girl, interrupting her mother 
with small ceremony, " my father taught me that we must 
always succour those in danger, even at the peril of our lives. 
Now in this case there was absolutely no danger : Bayard 
knew the ford perfectly well ; we two have gone over it 
thousands of times." 

" You will certainly be laid up with inflammation of the 
limgs." 

" That is just as likely to be taken at a ball," answered 
Dosia, philosophically ; and "this without doing good to any 
one. Mamma, please give me another cup of tea." 

The sermon came to an inglorious conclusion ; but Dosia 
had an idea, and she proceeded to put it at once into exe- 
cution. " Mamma," she said sweetly, " has not Bayard be- 
haved well to-day?" 

" Indeed he has, my child, and I must say that I did not 
expect it from him." 

"But you never understood him, mamma. He is as 
noble as the hero after whom he was named. Now, 
mamma, will you do something for me V* 

" What is it ? a double allowance of oats 1" 

"Promise me that he shall never again be harnessed to 
that water-cart. He is a real knight, and he must not be 
humiliated." 

Amid the amusement of the little circle, Madame Zaptine 
gave the solemn assurance that Bayard should be released 
for evermore from any menial service. But this promise was 
not altogether satisfactory to Dosia, who insisted on the 
coachmen being then and there summoned, and given orders 
never again to harness the good knight Bayard to any vehicle 
of whatsoever description. 

When the servants left the room, Dom txjonied once more 



THB SBB-BAW. 141 

to her mother. " Thank you, mamma dear," she said ; " and 
now I think I shall retire, for I am sleepy and comfortable." 

" You must be carried up-stairs," exlaimed her mother, 
full of solicitude. 

"Carried!" cried Dosia, with a merry laugh; "carried 
like a basket of linen from the laundry ! Indeed 1 shall not ; 
I shall go on my own two feet." 

She rose, tossed off the blanket, one comer of which fell 
into her sister's teacup, and then with marvellous dexterity 
drawing about her the huge folds and encumbering length of 
her dressing-gown, she went toward the door. With her 
hand upon it, she turned and addressed to the room a 
general profound curtsey, and the remark, " I am half asleep; 
good night, and sup well !" She carefully avoided meeting 
the eyes of Plato, who had not removed them from her face 
for one moment since he came into the room, and he soon 
heard her childlike, rippling laugh from the stairs, which she 
had some difficulty in ascending, with the dressing-gown trip- 
ping her up at every step. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

THE SBE-SAW. . 

DosiA slept a dreamless sleep; Madame Zaptine had the 
nightmare, and Plato never closed his eyes. The rising sun, 
which comes up somewhat early in June, saw him seated on 
the side of his bed, his head aching from a sleepless night. 
All that he had thought, suffered, and resolved in these 
wakeful hours would have filled the life of one of those quiet 
men who go from their cradle to theii ^cwi^ 'm^&^sss5^\is»^'»sfck 



142 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

known any anxiety or care more serious than a broken en- 
gagement or an hour of unexpected toil. 

Wearied and worn, he dressed and went softly down into 
the garden. Four struck as he passed the cuckoo-clock in 
the hall. He stumbled over two or three servants asleep on 
the mats in the passages, according to the Russian custom 
from time immemorial ; opened the door which was fastened 
only by a simple latch, and found himself on the piazza. The 
breakneck steps ran down to the lawn ; he ventured upon 
them, and reached the foot with infinite difficulty, but in 
safety. 

The dew lay heavy on the grass. The sun*s slender rays 
pierced the branches and drew with a facile pencil, in sharp 
lines, on the gravel walk, the graceful masses of foliage. 
The entire orchestra of birds sang their morning hymns with 
full, fresh throats. The cattle, already driven to pasture, 
formed the bass — a bass which was occasionally responded to 
by a bellow from a milch-cow, kept at home in the cowhouse 
for milking purposes. 

A bee, early abroad, brushed Plato^s cheek and buried it- 
self in the blossoms of a yellow acacia. But the young man 
paid little heed to the beauty of the spring morning. The 
cuckoo's melancholy call came from a tree near by eighteen 
times in succession. The superstition of the country is that 
the number of these calls indicates the number of years of 
life allotted to the person who is at that time in the thoughts 
of the hearer. Dosia had been constantly in the thoughts of 
the young officer for the last twenty-four hours ; and although 
he was not in the slightest degree superstitious, he felt his 
heart contract with a sharp pang. Was she to die at 
eighteen ? Perhaps at this moment, even, Dosia was suffer- 
ing from the first attacks of her malady. Perhaps Death, 
upon whom she had plaintively called the evening before, 
was already at her bedside. And \i sVve no \o\i^«aT cored for 



THB SEB-SAW. 143 

life, — the life that was " so hard," as she had said, — was not 
he himself the cause ? Had not the harshness of his 
criticisms, the severity of his reproofs, saddened her young 
heart, that should have been buoyant as her years with joy 
and happiness 1 What right had he to exact from her im- 
possible perfection ? " If she dies," thought he, " what will 
become of me ? What an empty life mine will be ! — ^how full 
of remorse and regrets ! " 

His steps led him mechanically to the moss-grown summer 
house. He sat on the bench, and looked at the thicket near 
which Dosia had stood the day before. " How is it," he said 
aloud, " that I never realized what I was doing to her 1 How 
is it that I never understood the meaning of her saddened 
face, and her weariness of the continuous struggle ?" 

He sat for a long time in this same spot. The river glit- 
tered with a cold, blue light like steel. He fancied he could 
feel the very chill that must have struck to the heart of the 
courageous girl the night before when she plunged into the 
stream. He overwhelmed himself with bitter reproaches, 
walked on without knowing whither his feet were carrying 
him, and, finally, wearied out, returned to his room, and 
throwing himself on his bed, fell asleep. 

At eight o'clock he awoke. The house, built of wood as 
it was, was as full of noise as a beehive. He hurried down 
to the dining-room, where Madame Zaptine, in honour of her 
guests, was herself preparing the coffee. 

Scarcely saying good morning, he exclaimed, "How is 
Do — Mademoiselle Th^odosie, this morning 1 " 

"Mademoiselle Theodosie is here," answered the girl, in 
a voice not quite so clear and bell-like as usual. " I am 
warming myself in the sun on the balcony." 

With three strides he reached the long window, and found 
himself in Dosia's presence. Enveloped in a soft white wrap, 
she wjvs curled up in a huge arm-oiVv^vc \ ^^^ix^N&<^N>x^'^^^^^ 



144 WAYWABD DOSIA. 

pink protected her pretty pale face from the too ardent rays 
of the sun. 

" Do you feel any ill eflfects from your exposure ? " said 
Plato, in a voice as hoarse as if he too had had a dip in the 
river. He did not venture to oflfer his hand to the girl. 

" I am perfectly well," she answered. " I slept like a dor- 
mouse. After all, there is nothing so good as a cold hath to 
insure a good night^s rest." 

"But not at this season of the year." 

" In a fortnight, every one will go bathing as a matter of 
courae. I am simply a little in advance of the season, that 
is all." She relapsed into silence, and her eyes fell. He 
gazed at her as at a treasure that had been lost and was 
found again. 

" Have you taken your coflfee 1 " she asked finally, in order 
to break the silence that was becoming oppressive. 

" No ; I came out to speak to you." 

" We will breakfast together then. Order them to bring 
your cup here." 

Plato obeyed ; and a small servant brought out a little 
table with a breakfast tray. Cordiality comes with eating. 
If this great truth is not a proverb, it deserves to become 
one; the bread and salt of hospitality quickly establish a 
geniality of feeling, therefore Dosia was soon again like her- 
self and began to chat as gaily as in the days of yore. From 
time to time a shadow rested for a moment on her brow, but 
she drove it away with a gesture like that of a child rubbing 
its eyes to shake off sleep. 

When their coffee was finished, Dosia amused herself by 
crumbling the rolls that were left, and throwing them over 
the balcony. The birds fluttered down to profit by the un- 
expected alms. " They know me," said Dosia^ sinking back 
jn her chair, with a weaiy but happy look. " They love me 
dearly, " 



THE SEE-SAW. 145 

She closed her eyes a little. Her black lashes cast a heavy 
shadow on her cheeks, which, from their pallor, appeared 
thinner than usual. Plato looked at her, and a vague terror 
filled his heart. 

The servant came out for the tray. Then came Monrief, 
then Sophia to speak to Dosia ; then both went back to join 
the family in the dining-room, and Sophia gently closed the 
balcony door after them. Plato was alone with the young 
girl. 

" Dosia," said he, after a few moments' hesitation. She 
opened her half-shut eyes, and over her sweet face rushed the 
conscious blood. " Dosia," repeated the young man, " I have 
been very hard toward yoiL I beg your pardon." She ex- 
tended her hand as if to prevent him from speaking. He 
took it in his and tried to warm it. 

" How cold ! " he exclaimed. " Let me say a few words 
to you, Dosia. I had in my mind," he continued, " a chim- 
erical idea of perfection ; I wished to see you attain to that. 
I was in the wrong: every human being has its own in- 
stincts, its own impressions and characteristics; you, for 
example, cannot — " 

"Be like Sophia," interrupted Dosia, with a sigL "Oh 
no ! " She withdrew the hand that Plato gently sought to 
retain, breathed another sigh, and turned away her head. 

"Just as you are, Dosia," continued Plato, "I wish you 
to remain. You are good and charming ; you deserve the 
esteem and affection of us all — and you have them." 

A questioning look, either of coquetry or mischief, gleamed 
from under the girl's drooping lids. She coloured. " I think 
more," said she, " of the esteem and affection of some few 
than of the many." 

"The one does not preclude the other," rejoined Plato. 
" You have inspired me with a feeling so profound in its na- 
ture that it will change my wboVe iutMT^Xvl^"^ '^'^ ^iw3^^^^^ 



146 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

too much agitated to continue. Kis eyes, riveted on the girl's 
face, said more than his words. She half rose from her chair. 

" I am ashamed,'* she said, in a low but firm voice, " I am 
ashamed of having stolen an esteem to which I am in no way 
entitled. You like me for my suavity, my truth, and my 
frankness, for of other good qualities I have none. Ah, well, 
believe me when I tell you that I ani a hypocrite and a de- 
ceiver ! I ought to have told you this long ago, but you 
were so severe in your judgments that I dared not. I said to 
myself, * Why should I speak to him of a person and things 
in which he takes no interest V But I see to-day that I was 
wrong." Plato listened to her words in silence. A gleam of 
exquisite joy entered his heart, but he dared not yet quite 
entertain the new-bom hope. 

" You have spoken," she resumed, " of feelings that will 
change your whole life. Before it is too late, before you allow 
them to cause you as much grief as I — " She bit her lip, 
turned pale, and hesitated ; then, with an effort, went on. 

" I ought to tell you that I am not what you believe me 
to be. Last year, just at this time, tired of the restraints by 
which I was surrounded, I committed a folly that will mar 
the happiness of my life. In a moment of bitter exasperation 
I asked my cousin Peter to elope with me. He did not love 
me : I think I understood that truth even then ; but I 
threatened him — never mind how — and he yielded to my 
entreaties, and took me away. But we had not gone more 
than four versts when I realized my mistake. No one knew 
what I had done, and my cousin consented to bring me back 
at once, without uttering a single word of the reproaches that 
I deserved. After that, sir, after a fault like this — a fault 
which harmed no one but myself — ^for Peter was not in any 
way to blame — I feel that I am totally unworthy of your 
esteem. Forgive me that I have not told you of this before." 
She was silent ; large tears feW ^lom ker eyes. She strug- 



THE SEB-SAW. 147 

gled for composure, but her strength was gone. She burst 
into sobs, and cried as if she were utterly desperate, and as if 
life were all desolation and despair. 

" Dosia," said Plato's voice, so near her face, which was 
buried in the back of her chair, that she started — '* Dosia, 
you are an angel ! I knew all this that you have just told 
me, months ago." 

"You knew it?" she cried, trembling from head to foot; 
" you knew it, and yet you loved me in spite of it ?" 

" No, I did not love you then — not at least as I love you 
now. I said to myself^ If she only had confidence enough in 
me to speak." 

" I wished to do so a hundred times, but you were so severe, 
you had such an indiflferent air — in short, I was afraid of you." 

" And now r 

" Now," said Dosia, smiling through her tears, " I am still 
a little afraid of you, but not so much. Do you really respect 
me ? Ah, I have so longed for your esteem !" 

"Yes, I respect you a little — just a little," answered 
Plato, smiling also. " You, like Bayard, have rescued a 
fellow-creature — " 

" Oh what nonsense !" interrupted Dosia. 

" I never was so fortunate," continued Plato ; still as I am 
really a little wiser than you, I feel that we are somewhat on 
an equality. Do you remember the day when we agreed that 
you ought to marry a very sensible man ?" 

" How I did weep that day !" whispered Dosia. 

"You shall weep no more, child. Do you think me sensible 
enough to be your husband ?" 

Dosia looked at him, and extended both her arms ; then, 
with an impulse of maidenly modesty, folded them closely 
over her breast, and sank back in her chair. She was very 
pale, but her eyes were riveted on his. He lifted her from 
the chair, and almost carried her into the dinin^-rooisL. 



148 WAYWARD DOSIA. 

This was an excellent opportunity for Madame Zaptine to 
utter exclamations of horror ; but words failed her. Sophia 
understood the scene at once. " I think, dear madame," she 
said quietly, "that my brother has something to say to you." 

" Madame Zaptine," said Plato, " will you kindly consent 
to give Mademoiselle Th^odosie to me T* 

We shall make no attempt to depict the tumult that 
followed. Homer alone would have been equal to the task. 
Dosia, resuscitated as by a fairy's wand, went to her room, 
and in less than a quarter of an hour reappeared in the 
daintiest of toilettes — worthy, in a word, of her new position 
as the count*s^a?ic^e. The gay home circle danced and played 
blind man's buff, and the hand organ, that gave forth two old- 
fashioned tunes one after the other, was so energetically 
ground by the too zealous Monrief, that the crank came off 
in his hand. In fact, until the hour for repose arrived there 
was so much noise and laughter that Dosia's sisters had no 
time to meditate on the great injustice they had that day 
suffered at the hands of providence. 

" We shall be married in a week," said Plato calmly, as 
they took their seats at the dinner-table. 

" What ! what ! " exclaimed Madame Zaptine. " And 
the trousseau ? " 

" I do not propose to marry the trousseau. But we shall 
be married in a week, on the same day with Sophia. Is 
not that so, Dosia 1 " 

"Certainly," said she; "and I shall take Bayard away with 
me. 

" How delightful ! " cried the sisters as with one voice. • 

" Don't be too pleased," said Dosia, shaking her finger at 
them threateningly, " or I shall leave you my dog." They 
asked for mercy ; and it was finally agreed that Dosia 
should also take the dog. 

On leaving the table, the party went down the breakneck 



THB SBI^-SAW. 149 

steps, and Madame Zaptine, faithful to a habit of her youth, 
seated herself on the old see-saw. For thirty-eight years she 
had regularly gone there for a little exercise to aid digestion 
after dinner. 

She had been seated but a few moments when two of her 
daughters came to join her ; then Dosia, followed by Plato ; 
finally all the circle were by her side, with the exception of 
Monrief, who stood some little distance off, smoking his 
cigarette. " You look," said he, " like a flock of swallows on 
a telegraph wire — my aunt more than the others, because of 
her excessive thinness." 

Madame Zaptine laughed. She had been so happy all that 
lucky day that she had absolutely forgotten to be ill. The 
see saw was put in motion. Monrief watched them, highly 
amused. 

*^ I say, Dosia," he suddenly exclaimed, " do you remember 
last year, when — " He pulled himself up short, vexed at 
his inadvertence, fearing that he had been guilty of an 
annoying blunder. 

" Yes, I remember very well," answered Dosia, with a 
glance at Plato. " I remember, too, that you were by no 
means so agreeable on that occasion as you are to-day. Come 
now and join us ! " 

Peter tossed away his cigarette^ took a seat at Sophia's 
side, and with one foot gave a vigorous impulse to the plank, 
which, though so heavily laden, went swiftly up in the 
air. 

" Mercy ! " cried Madame Zaptine, making ineffectual 
efforts to stop. " You will certainly break the swing ! " 

" Never mind, dear aunt," answered Monrief gaily, amid 
shouts of laughter. " The faster the merrier. Up we go ! 
up we go ! " 



THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 



i 



CHAPTER I. 

Anton Petrovitch Malissop was forty years of age, but 
looked scarcely more than five and thirty. This was not the 
result of any affectation of juvenility on his part; his grave 
and correct countenance, slightly bald forehead, and severe 
style of dress were not those of a young man, and though he 
had applied for indefinite leave of absence, to the great regret 
of the Ambassador (for whom he did all the work), it was 
not a youthful whim which had led him to exchange the 
beautiful climate of the south for that of his Russian estate. 
He was weary, and felt an irresistible craving for rest. 

For rest from what 1 Is it not an established axiom that 
secretaries to embassies never have anything to do ? And 
yet Malissof s weariness was genuine, so genuine that a clever 
foreign physician had advised him to return to his native air. 

Malissof had arrived the previous evening at his beautiful 
seat, Malissova, and gone to bed as soon as he alighted from 
his carriage. The early morning sun found its way through 
the hoUand blinds and awoke him. One of his peculiar 
fancies had induced him to order that nothing more comfort- 
able than the old worm-eaten furniture among which he had 
grown up should be provided for his reception. But two and 
twenty years leave their trace on inanimate objects as well as 



THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 151 

human beings, unless the objects happen to be obelisks or 
cathedrals. 

Malissof rose, seated himself on the edge of his bed, and 
cast a scrutinizing glance around. In compliance with his 
orders, a bed had been made up for him in his old nursery, 
which became hie bedroom when he gi*ew older. The canary- 
coloured wall-paper was just his own age ; the old-fashioned 
design proclaimed a period when ugliness triumphed in every 
description of paper-hanging. The chairs, too, were corres- 
pondingly hideous, while the walnut wood table showed the 
numerous hacks of the knife with which the absent-minded 
scholar had carved his lesson into the wood, in lieu of imprint- 
ing it on his wandering brain. The mouldy odour common 
to places that have been shut up and uninhabited for a number 
of years pervaded the apartment, and Malissof appeared to 
inhale this peculiar atmosphere with pleasure. Presently he 
proceeded to dress himself, and then threw the window wide 
open. A large branch of a lime tree profited by this pro- 
ceeding of his to thrust its tufts of unopened flower-buds into 
the room. Everything outside was much changed. Formerly 
the carefully clipped lime-trees could not have taken any such 
liberty ; the old gardener would certainly never have tolerated 
the wild flowers that now covered the lawn. " That is not 
turf, but hay grass," the old man would have said, but for 
ten years past he haS been sleeping under a Uttle piece of 
tiuf which was never mown. The shrubs had grown 
enormously. A white rose-bush, measuring eight feet round, 
rose majestically at the end of the grounds, looking like a 
bridegroom's wedding gift, sprinkled with living emeralds. 
The poplars had become quite lofty. The stream, which 
made a sharp curve at the bottom of the lawn, was now only 
visible through a few gaps in a wall of lilacs. 

Everything was much changed, and yet Malissof, leaning 
on the window-sill, felt a strange impression of familiarity, u 



152 THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 

sort of reminiscence of bygone years. For some time he gave 
himself up to the melancholy amusement of brooding over the 
past ; then roused himself from his reverie, completed his 
toilet, and went into the dining-room. Here the impressions 
which awaited him were rather those of his childhood than 
his youth ; the old timepiece, whose resoimding tick had 
occasionally drowned his mother's low voice as she gently 
reproved him for some prank ; the old leather chair in which 
she had so often dozed after dinner ; these familiar objects 
reminded him of his early years, but not of those that 
came after. 

He wandered thus through every room in the house, and 
when he had come to the end, stopped short before a locked 
door. The key was in his hand ; he looked at it twice,. and 
was on the point of putting it into the lock ; but his hand fell 
by his side, and he turned away. " By-and-by," said he to 
himself, " when I feel more composed." And he set forth to 
inspect his estate. 

The day passed quickly ; the bams, granaries, cattle-sheds 
and stables were sufficiently numerous to delight the idle 
hours of their owner after so long an absence. 

Evening came before he found himself alone. After din- 
ner he seated himself at the head of the steps in front of the 
house to enjoy the fresh air. Here he remained, smoking his 
cigar and following the course of the ^clouds which melted 
away in the blue vault above, till suddenly a thought occur- 
red to him and he went indoors, and directed his steps to- 
wards the door of the room which he had left unopened in 
the morning. 

The key turned in the lock, he pushed the door open and 

stopped short on the threshold. The large apartment, 

furnished in drab, was in no way remarkable ; it was a kind 

of sitting-room or boudoir, and all it had to show was a white 

warbJo centre-table, some chairs aiud a couch against the 



THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 153 

walls, a little square piano between two windows, and an 
easy chair. Malissof went straight up to this chair, and 
heedless of the dust which lay thick on the inlaid floor, 
knelt down, resting his head on the faded piece of furniture. 
In a few moments he rose, and reyerently kissed it, leaving 
two tears on the dust-covered chintz. 

His mother had died in this room. There she had passed 
the long years of her recluse widowed life. Her image rose 
before his eyes, pale, languid, but always charming ; features 
and age have nothing to do with the beauty of the mind. 
Anton Petrovitch had loved his mother with a tender, con- 
fiding, intimate affection, telling her everything, letting her 
into his inmost thoughts. One day, as he was talking to her, 
she fell asleep, and the slumber was that from which there is 
no awaking. When the funeral was over, Malissof locked 
the door of the little room which contjiined the epitome of 
his life, and left the home of his fathers. Twenty years 
elapsed before he saw it again. 

When he had thoroughly tasted the bitter sweet of so many 
memories he rose to return to his own apartments. On the 
threshold of this room, he paused and hesitated : should he 
close this sanctuary and only enter it in hours of sadness] He 
reflected a moment, and then threw open the folding doors. 
" Let light and life enter everywhere," said he to himself. 
" I have kept both my heart and my home too long closed. 
If there is still time, let the sun penetrate into the deepest 
recesses." 



154 TUB GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 



CHAPTER IL 

Malissof was not unsociable. People called him a misan- 
thrope, but they slandered him ; unfortunately he preferred 
the society of clever people, and had consequently a fair 
number of enemies. 

On arriving in the country, he made several calls. There 
were not many changes in the neighbourhood ; the preserv- 
ing qualities of provincial life exceed those of «ny pickle 
known ; after ten years have paaaed the same faces are to be 
found, a little plainer, a little older, it is true ; but as every 
piece of furniture remains in the same place, you soon resume 
your old habits, and by a slight effort of imagination may fancy 
that time has not rolled on. 

Yet the children had grown up. The boys had become 
men, and were mostly dispersed in every direction ; many of 
the girls had married ; but not all. Some few, not the 
prettiest, of course, were left to adorn the neighbourhood, 
much as the withered aniseed stalks of last season adorn the 
kitchen garden when the grass begins to spring. 

This rustic world had a certain charm for Malissof ; to be- 
gin with, it brought about a change in his ideas and habits, 
and then he admired a kind of patriarchal simplicity in this 
mode of life. People were certainly no better than in the 
great world, but there was a charming simplicity in their 
offences. Selfishness was so undisguised that you recognised 
it without being bold enough to condemn it. 

There was one old lady in the neighbourhood whose house 

frequently attracted Malissof. She had kept up all the old 

customs; she and her husband \\qv\\AWn^ ^kcm^Vvt themselves 



THE GBNEBOUS DIPLOMATIST. 155 

wanting in self-respect had they ever walked the twenty yards 
which lay between their house and the church. Within the 
memory of man, the Pajarofs had always driven to mass. 

The good lady married her servants, held their infants at 
the font, reared an innumerable flock of sewing-maids in her 
household, and watched a varied collection of little servants 
of every size and occupation growing up in her anterooms 
until the day when their short jackets and breeches warned 
their mistress that they were ready for promotion. Then 
she sent for a troop of the young scamps, and distributed the 
vacant situations right and left: — "You shall be coach- 
man ; you, butler ; — ^you shall turn the handle of the bar- 
rel organ ; — ^you shall be cook,** — all without the slightest 
reference to their respeetive capacities. Fortunately her 
memory was rather short, so these young rogues foimd no 
difficulty in exchanging their posts without asking leave. 

Sometimes, of course, Madame Pajarof would begin to be 
suspicious, " I thought I had made you cook," she would say 
to a strapping young fellow. 

" Excuse me, madame, that was Ilia ; I am lachka, and 
you made me groom ; — by your honour's permission, I attend 
to the horses you drive." 

" Well, well, my memory is so bad," muttered the good 
lady, and the matter was settled. 

This lively household, where fifty attendants of both sexes 
found it hard work to wait on two peraons, was much to 
Malissofs taste. Incidents were always occurring there in 
the most unexpected manner, and visitors turned up from 
every side. The Pajarofs always kept open house; ten 
guest chambers stood ready for chance comers and were 
seldom unoccupied. 

Towards the end of June, Madame Pajarof took -it into her 
head to make some matches among her serfs ; it was a long 
time since she had made ^.tv^^^tA^'^ Q^«^c^\R»Xsisv^Xisss. 



156 THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 

hand in, she said. An awkward case presented itself; one 
of her woodmen had fallen head over ears in love with a girl 
bom on a neighbouring estate, whose owner was not inclined 
to forego the profits accruing from the girl's especial gifts. 
Madame Pajarof, finding herself unable to satisfy everybody, 
decided one day upon sending off a messenger to summon 
Malissof to her aid. 

He came at once. The good lady was outside, awaiting 
him on the steps ; in her impatience she had heard the sound 
of the wheels half a mile off. 

" What is it you want, Anna Karpovna V said the new- 
comer, even before he had reached the top of the steps. 

" You have been in the diplomatic service, Anton Petro- 
vitch, come to the rescue !" 

" With pleasure, it will rub off the rust !*' returned Malis- 
sof. " What is the matter T 

"My neighbour will not let me have her girl for my 
woodman," said the old lady, sinking back into her chair, 
« What a fool she is !" 

" No, my dear, she is no fool," broke in General Pajarof, 
rising from a large arm-chair in which he passed most of his 
waking moments. " Good day, Malissof. Tell my wife that 
her neighbour is no fool ! That is proved by her wanting 
the woodman to come and live on her estate : she does not 
mean to present us with her milk-maid, we must make her a 
present of our woodman !" 

" She is certainly no fool," said Malissof, laughing, " but I 
see only one way of settling the question." 

" What .way is that T 

" Buy the fair bride !" 

" There !" cried the old lady, turning to her husband : 
*' did not I tell you that diplomatists find a way out of every 
di&ciilty \ You are right, Anton Petrovitch, nothing could 
be fairer. But supposing she refv\aea to &^\\ \>axV 



THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 157 

" If you manage the affair well — " 

" Yes, to be sure, but it must not cost me too much," 
added Anna Karpovna in an earnest tone which made 
Malissof smile. 

" Could you make up your mind, dear neighbour," ho 
resumed, " to refuse these unhappy lovers the small sum re- 
quired to make them happy 1" 

" You talk like a romance," said the old lady, with an 
eloquent twinkle in her eye, " but it is a sheer waste of time. 
Tiy to get me out of the dilemma on reasonable terms." 

" I will do my best Where does the owner of this Dul- 
cinea live T 

"At no great distance, not two miles off; do you see her 
house with an apple-green roof, behind that little wood ?" 

" I see it. Fatal neighbourhood I" exclaimed Malissof, 
" I feel sure that this wood is the accomplice, the Galeaito 
that ruined them !" 

" Quite right, my dear. Well then, since yoxi condescend 
to place your talents at the service of ill-starred love, go 
back to your carriage and drive off at once to the wicked 
fairy who is malignant to the end of the story." 

" And if she touches me with her wand ?" said Malissof, 
pausing on the threshold as he left the room. 

The old lady shrugged her shoulders contemptuously. 
The general growled out in sonorous tones from the depth 
of his chair : " Don't let her marry you !" 

" What, is she a widow ?" said Malissof, in consternation. 

** She is single." 

« And what age ?" 

*• Thirty-seven and a half." 

" I am safe," returned the messenger lightly. " May I 
venture on another question V 

"Let us hear it" 

" In spite of the full respect due ajad ^Qj^\i.\R» ^^s^cst \ss^ 



158 THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 

comparable judgment, I cannot help asking myself, why, 
Anna Karpovna — " 

" Well r 

" Why you don't go yourself ?" 

At this question, the general burst out laughing ; his 
better half was ready to join him, but restrained herself to 
utter the sentence : " Words have passed between us." 

Pajarof laughed more than ever, and Anna Karpovna could 
no longer contain herself; Malissof supposed the dispute 
must have been a comical one, and with a grave bow, took 
his departure. 



CHAPTER III. 



Within another quarter of an hour the secretary of embassy 
stopped before the ancient steps of an old-fashioned wooden 
house. A tiny page appeared at the head of them ; Malissof 
sent in his name, and was shown into a drawing-room as old- 
fashioned as the external architecture. 

Mademoiselle P^lagie Sim^onof was a large, fair-haired 
woman, very much freckled. Her maid had consoled her 
under this annoyance by a reiterated assurance that only the 
most delicate complexions were liable to freckles, in fact, they 
were a sort of guarantee of the fineness of the skin. Pelagic 
had at length come to believe and even to repeat this — to 
the great delight of all the mischievous tongues in her part 
of the country. 

On a couch, blocked in, according to ancient precedent, by 

a heavy immovable table, sat a lady in black, very simple 

both in dress and manner. Half concealed behind her was a 

modest young girl, whose face, partly turned towards the 

door, became Buffuaed with blushes as the handsome stranger 



THE GEXEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 159 

entered ; she cast down her eyes immediately and never 
raised them till she took her leave. 

Malissof, struck by the grace of this youthful face, was 
forgetting to announce his name and standing, but Pelagic, 
accustomed to the ways of the world, awaited the announce- 
ment with such a look of interrogation as to remind the 
diplomatist at once of the part he had to play. "Anton 
Petrovitch Malissof, your neighbour and hnmble servant, 
mademoiselle," said he. 

" I am delighted to see you in this part of the country,'' 
returned Pelagic promptly ; " Monsieur Malissof, my neigh- 
bour Madame Berlaguine, and her daughter Eugenie." 

Introductions having thus taken place, conversation began. 
Madame Berlaguine was as simple as her style of dress ; she 
spoke just enough not to seem taciturn, and little enough 
not to prevent her hostess from going through the never 
endirg chaplet of her domestic adventures. Mademoiselle 
Eugenie did not say one word. At the end of ten minutes, 
Madame Berlaguine rose. 

"What, you are never thinking of going!" exclaimed 
P^lagie. " Do you not intend dining with us ?" 

"I am sorry to be obliged to decline; my old friend 
Madame Pajarof is expecting us. Will you come too ?" 

" We are not on good terms," returned Mademoiselle 
Pelagic in a tart manner, which formed a droll contrast to 
her large round cheeks, framed expressly for good humour. 

" Ah !" rejoined Madame Berlaguine, remembering possibly 
that Mademoiselle Sim^onof was often not on terms with 
some one or other. " That is a pity." 

The ladies exchanged a few compliments, and then 
Mademoiselle Pelagic accompanied her visitors to the top of 
the steps. While they were getting into their carriage, 
Malissof had time to examine the drawing-room. Some 
sentimental songs were displayed on the piano^ as well q& t\vs^ 



160 THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 

inevitable " Priere d'une Vierge," which no mortal, be he 
handsome as Apollo and more valiant than Achilles, can hope 
to evade. Laraartine's " Harmonies,'' lying open at the 
most pathetic page, also indicated a sentimental turn of 
mind. Malissof saw no more, for Pelagie re-entered the 
room. 

" You were just speaking of Madame Pajarof," said he. 

P^lagie's smiles vanished from her sunburnt face to make 
way for an expression of offended dignity. '* Madame 
Pajarof has not behaved well to me," said she, with the tart 
air which sat so droUy on her. 

" I have come," replied the diplomatist, " like the dove in 
the ark, to bear the olive branch." 

The lady's yellow face reddened and softened. *' I shall 
have all the more pleasure in listening to you," said she, with 
the greatest urbanity. 

" Can you refuse to make a pair of true lovers happy 1 " 
said Malissof, taking the bull by the horns, as we say. 

**It is not I who refuse!" exclaimed Pelagie. "It is 
Anna Karpovna who will not listen to reason. Why should 
I make her a present of Doimia ? She is a very good dairy- 
maid, and besides she embroiders towels to perfection. I 
don't see why I should offer such a present to Madame 
Pajaroff, who has never done anything to please me, and said 
such disagreeable things the other day that — " 

" I have come on purpose to beg you to forget them," said 
Malissof gently. 

" Well then," returned Pelagie, seizing on her advantage, 
" let her give me her woodman ! " 

" But her woodman has his value," urged the diplomatist. 

" And do you think that my dairymaid is worth nothing 1 " 
rejoined the irascible lady. '• Really, sir, I am surprised that 
that you can come here and talk in this way." 
Then it dawned on Malissof that Vke ^toxi:^ mi^ht not bo 



THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST, 161 

entirely on Madame Pajarofs side, and he made mental 
apologies for having judged rashly. 

" I am afraid, mademoiselle," said he, that I must have 
expressed myself badly. ** Madame Pajorof never had the 
least intention of asking you to act against your own 
interests ; she wishes to propose an exchange." 

" I don't want any of her girls," returned Pelagie. " They 
are too much of fine ladies for us, their extravagant habits 
don't suit me." Pelagie was miserly — just the opposite of 
her neighbour, — and was severe on what she termed " waste- 
ful habits." 

"Is there no way of arranging the matter?" suggested 
Malissof quietly, reverting to the sacred customs of diplo- 
macy. 

Pelagie gave a questioning glance, which suddenly became 
tender, cast doA^n her eyes, and took her fan from off the 
table. " I don't quite know how I am to take your words," 
said she. 

An absurd idea flashed across Anton Petrovitch's mind. 
No one is perfect ! He put on his most fascinating manner, 
leaned over the left arm of his chair (the side next his heart), 
and murmured in a low voice, " Can your tender heart be 
inaccessible to pity ? " 

Pelagie began to fan herself gently. " "\Vhat do you 
mean ? " said she coquettishly. 

" These young people are in love with one another," pur- 
sued Malissof; "do you know what love is, mademoiselle ? " 

Pelagie blushed, cast down her eyes again, and remained 
silent. Thq diplomatist went on, gliding by degrees into the 
most romantic language. " Do you know," said he, " that 
love penetrates into the humblest cot, that it spares shepherds 
no more than kings, — that it can make a man a hero or 
convert him into a criminal ? " 

Pelagie, whose face had lighted up with uobU \ftv4s. vi^.*CisiSk 



162 THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 

word " hero," shivered slightly at that of " criminal," and 
her hand, which was also much freckled, kept the fan in a 
constant flutter. 

" Think, mademoiselle," resumed Malissoff, still bending to 
the left, and with a slight tremor in his voice, " think how this 
poor woodman loves — ." At this point it occurred to him 
that the word dairy-maid was quite unromantic, so he set his 
brain to work, and hit on the word "shepherdess," as 
poetical as the other was the reverse — " how he loves this 
shepherdess," he continued, "and how the ravages of this 
passion are as dangerous in their effect on the minds of 
these men of the — " woods, he was about to say, but fearing 
this word might suggest the orang-outang to Mademoiselle 
P^lagie's wandering fancies, he substituted, after sotne slight 
hesitation, the word " fields," — " on the minds of these men 
of the fields as in the hearts of the dwellers in cities." 

" Do you think so 1 " murmured the lady. 

This question gave Malissof time to draw breath after his 
long sentence. " Do I think so ! " exclaimed he emphatically. 
"You, mademoiselle, who are secured from the storms of 
passion by your pure life " — Pelagic sighed — " and by your 
charming virtues "— Pelagic cast down her eyes and smiled — 
" even you must have read in the newspapers of a thousand 
instances of such fatal infatuations." 

" Then you believe in love ! " returned P^lagie bravely, 
bringing two blue eyes with rather prominent whites to bear 
on the speaker. 

" As firmly as in my own existence ! " cried Malissof with 
the heroism of despair. " This couple," added he to him- 
self, " will owe me more than they can ever repay ! " Pela- 
gic went on fanning herself and heaved another sigh. 
" Come," resumed our hero, " can you be inexorable 1 " 

'' Fou invoke the noblest sentiments of our nature," re- 
plled P6iagie, " I am forced to \o\j^t m^ flag. You spoke, if 



THB GBNBROUS DIPLOMATIST. 163 

I am not mistaken, of some arrangement. What does Ma- 
dame Pajarof offer me in exchange for Macha ? " 

"Twenty roubles," rejoined Malissof, with imperturbable 
assurance. Pelagic went on for some seconds fanning her- 
self. " Plague take her," thought the diplomatist, " shall I 
be forced to go on the tack of the pathetic again ? " 

" Twenty roubles in silver? " said Pelagie, breaking in upon 
his perplexity with her shrill voice. 

" In paper ! " cried the negotiator. 

" You must be jesting, Anton Petrovitch, no one reckons 
in paper now ; at least, I have never been accustomed to such 
calculations." 

" What a fib ! " thought Malissof, " how young are you 
trying to make yourself out? In your childhood, and maybe 
in your girlhood, you never heard of any other kind of cal- 
culation." 

** Allow me," resumed he aloud. 

" I shall want fifty roubles in cash and three milch cows," 
declared the lady in a determined tone. 

" I have no authority to treat on such conditions," said 
Anton Petrovitch, rising ; " I can only regret," added he, 
taking up his hat, " that I have disturbed you by my inop- 
portune call." 

" He is going," thought Pelagie, " and he is such a hand- 
some fellow ! And there are so few young bachelors in this 
neighbourhood ! I will give in ! " said the irascible lady to 
herself, probably for the first and last time in her life. 
" Anton Petrovitch," said she aloud, in a softened. tone which 
gave her voice the peculiar flavour of pickles suddenly 
plunged into sweet cream, " listen to me." 

Malissof stood still, but took care not to put his^hat down ; 
this would have given his fair antagonist an advantage. 

" Let us say forty roubles in silver," proceeded Pelagie in 
a tone calculated to soften a stone. 



164 THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 

"I have no authority," repeated Malissof. 

^'Thirty-five," resumed the lady, "but Madame Pajarof 
must give me two milch cows." 

''Impossible, mademoiselle, forgive me for having in- 
truded." 

"Thirty roubles and two cows," sighed P^lagie in her 
sweetest voice, " and the loss will be on my side. I assure 
you that I shall be the loser, for Macha is a capital dairy- 
maid, she understands her business thoroughly." 

" Madame Pajarof will not ratify my terms, I fear," re- 
sumed the ambassador, " but I will offer you thirty roubles 
in silver and one cow ; that is all I can promise." 

"Be it so," said the old maid with a gracious smile. " I 
am giving her away, but one is willing to sacrifice anything 
to retain such an agreeable acquaintance ! " The triumph- 
ant Malissof bowed and returned her smile with one equally, 
or still more gracious. " Let us be friends," she continued, 
extending her hand with a theatrical air of dignity. 

Malissof left a diplomatic kiss on the wrinkled hand of his 
new friend, and a treaty of peace was thus ratified by the 
rival powers. 

Pelagic appeared so thoroughly at her ease and so much 
delighted with her visitor, that he thought it prudent to 
make a speedy retreat. He had some difficulty in making 
his escape, for she wanted to keep him to dinner. " You 
will see my young sisters," said Mademoiselle Sim^onof, 
"they are such nice girls." 

Malissof, however, was not to be detained even by this de- 
lightful prospect ; he was still fresh from the fight, and 
longed to report the success of his mission to Madame Pa- 
jarof Declining the invitation, he contrived to escape, but 
. not without giving a promise to come again. 

" Tell Madame Pajarof that I will come and take tea with 
r Jber to-morrow/* said Pflagie, accomiijaa^Vtt!^ \ver visitor to the 



THE GBNBROUS DIPLOMATIST. 165 

head of the steps. " I shall hope to meet you there, and we 
will arrange a day for the wedding." 

Malissof laughed more than once as he drove along, less 
at the part he had played than at the errand itself, and this 
sense of the ridiculous was still on him when he entered the 
courtyard. Madame Pajarof had been waving a handker- 
chief from her window ever since he entered the avenue ; he 
too hoisted the white flag, plucked a twig from a birch-tree, 
and entered the drawing-room bearing this pseudo olive 
branch. 

" Thirty roubles and a cow ! " announced he solemnly ; 
" if I have exceeded my powers, august sovereign, I will pay 
the difference without a murmur, for I have had a great deal 
of fun." 

A timid hand touched the piano, playing the first few 
notes of the wedding-march in the Midsummer Night's Dream, 
and every one burst out laughing. Malissof turned round 
and recognised with pleasure the pretty reserved face which 
he had met an hour before at Pelagie's. 

Madame Berlaguine began to reprove her daughter for her 
unseemly interruption, but Madame Pajarof interposed. 
" Come," said she, ** is it the child's fault if she is witty to 
the very tip of her fingers'? She cannot help herself ! Come 
here, my pet ; if your mother scolds yon, hide behind my 
chair and pluck my sleeve, I will protect you ! " 

" I am sorry, neighbour, that you have no children," re- 
turned Madame Berlaguine, " I shall never be able to repay 
your kind offices ! " 

The generars heavy step was heard, and as he entered the 
room, he burst into a laugh at the sight of the olive branch 
which Malissof still held in his hand. " You have been suc- 
cessful," said he, " let us sit down to table, and you shall 
give us the whole history over dinner. It is sure to have 
been comical." 



166 THB GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 



CHAPTER IV. . 

Malissop*s story was a great success ; and even Madame 
Berlaguine, in spite of her grave face, could not help joining 
in the general laugh. At the moment the hilarity was 
at its height, when the gaiety had spread and infected even 
the kitchen, a Medusa's head appeared in the shape of a 
rustic droschki, hung very low, and very dusty, but still 
worthy of belonging to a landed proprietor. This droschki, 
drawn by two dusty horses, contained Pelagic Sim^onof in 
person, attired for the occasion in a nankeen dress, which was 
far from enhancing the problematic brilliancy of her com- 
plexion. 

" I could not resist," said she, as she broke in upon the 
astonished circle, " I was all alone, my sisters had dispersed 
in various directions after dinner was over ; I thought how 
you must all be enjoying yourselves here, while I was all 
alone, and so dull, and off I came to join you." Her pale 
blue eyes cast a speaking glance of submission and tenderness 
towards the diplomatist, who received the dart without 
flinching. 

" You did well, my dear," quietly replied Madame Pajarof, 
to whom rancour was a perfectly unknown feeling. Any one 
who displeased or offended her was sure to receive a volley 
of truths more or less unpleasant, after which the good lady 
recovered her equanimity, and generously condoned the 
offence. 

They discussed which day should be fixed for the wedding 
of these lovers^ whose fate had nearly disturbed the repose 



THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 167 

of this comer of the globe, and decided on the Sunday 
following. Madame Pajarof announced her intention of 
lending her house to the happy couple for the breakfast and 
wedding dance. " They shall be married like their betters," 
said she ; " T will invite all the neighbours round, and every 
one shall dance." 

Mademoiselle Berlaguine made a little instinctive gesture 
of delight, instantly repressed, but not before it was caught 
by Madame Pajorof. " You will enjoy that, darling, won't 
you 1 " said she, " you are quite right. It is a hundred times 
better to dance at any other wedding than your own." 

** Ah ! " sighed P^lagie, it is all very well for you to talk." 
Every one began to laugh. 

" And yet," said Madame Berlaguine, turning to the lady 
of the house, " I would not advise you, Anna Karpovna, to 
dissuade young ladies from marrying ; we mothers want to 
see our daughters settled before we die." 

" Oh, leave them to settle themselves," cried the old lady. 
" What need can there be for you to thrust before their ey^s a 
ready-made suitor, chosen in accordance with your taste 
instead of theirs? Upon my word, when I see mothers 
choosing a son-in-law, I am sometimes tempted to think that 
they may take a fancy to him themselves. Young ladies who 
make their own choice don't always manage so badly, do 
they, general 1 " continued she, addressing her husband, who 
was still buried in the depths of his arm chair. 

The general exerted himself to rise, smiled, and came to 
kiss the white and wrinkled, but soft hand of his good old 
wife. It was forty-two years since they had contrived to 
elope together, to the despair of their respective relatives who 
had arranged a far more brilliant match on either side. 
" No one on earth," said he, in his deep asthmatic tones, 
" can boast of greater happiness than ours." 

Madame Pajarof cast a triumphant glance around. Madame 



168 THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 

Berlaguine was not pleased. As to the young girl, it was 
impossible to divine her thoughts ; her pretty face looked 
perfectly calm, and her eyes remained fixed on the ground ; 
only a rosier tint on her cheeks betrayed that she had heard 
what was said. 

" To choose is not always so easy ! " murmured P^lagie, — 
" life is so full of snares — I could never muster courage to 
make up my mind." 

" Well, neighbour," put in Madame Pajarof, " make haste, 
or else — *' Fortunately at this moment ices were served, 
which turned the conversation into a less dangerous channeL 
When the party broke up, delighted with one another, 
they decided to meet on the following Sunday, the day which 
was to unite the happy couple. 

On the way back to her estate, which was some miles off, 
Madame Berlaguine did not neglect the opportunity of 
lecturing her daughter. " You are not grave enough," said 
she. " Did any one ever see a young girl sitting down to the 
piano without being asked, and taking upon herself to be 
witty when there was not the slightest call? Wit is all very 
well for married womon, but young ladies ought to be 
especially on their guard against it. Men dislike women who 
make clever remarks." 

Mademoiselle Eugenie hung down her head and" remained 
silent 

" You are not bad looking," resumed the mother — she 
doated on her daughter's beauty, but studiously concealed it 
from her; "you are not stupid, you might make a good 
match ; but if you mean to achieve this you must be like the 
rest of the world." 

" Mamma," observed Mademoiselle Eugenie timidly, " if I 
am just like the rest of the world, what is to make a suitor 
show me any preference ? " 
What plagues children arQl If they are stupid their 



THB GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 169 

mothers abuse them, and if they are clever they don't know 
how to answer them. Madame Berlaguine found herself con- 
stantly in the latter position, and had long since decided it to 
be the best policy to turn a deaf ear to troublesome questions. 

" I approve of Monsieur Malissof," continued the mother ; 
" he is rich, and has a good position. He would be a suitable 
match ; try to make yourself agreeable. I should be charmed 
to have him for a son-in-law. Do you understand me, my 
dear 1 " She never addressed her daughter as " my dear," 
except on important occasions. 

"Yes, mamma, I understand," was Eugenie's answer. 
She added nothing as to her intentions of obeying. 



CHAPTER V. 



The following Sunday, all the Pajarofs* intimate friends as- 
sembled at their house to celebrate the wedding of the illus- 
trious pair of lovers. Their old neighbour Bourlakof, kept a 
prisoner by a rheumatic attack which deprived him of the 
use of both legs, sent them his band, composed, as he said, of 
six musicans and a half; the half consisting of a boy of 
about twelve, to whose lot it fell to play the bells, the tri- 
angle and tambourine, an accumulation of functions which 
did not prevent him from acquitting himself to the satisfac- 
tion of the company. This feudal band was one more relic 
of the good old times. Now-a-days Russia cannot boast of 
more than perhaps twenty such companies of musicians, 
brought up and kept in the household to minister to their 
master's amusement, whenever the fancy seizes him. 

This band, having been duly supplied with liquor, was in- 
stalled in a balcony in the great hall, furnished with old seats 
upholstered in yellow velvet. The largo barrel-or^an^^KKofaA 



170 THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 

cylinders were ancient and irregular in their action, was 
dethroned for the day, and its enormous handle, to turn 
which was exhausting work for a robust peasant, was per- 
mitted to rest on this occasion. 

Throughout the hall and garden and suites of apartments 
strolled visitors of all ages who had come to amuse them- 
selves with the sight of this village wedding. In former 
times the nobility used to divert themselves by treating their 
vassals — just for the day — with the semblance of a more refined 
life, and the use of things which they generally touched only 
to offer to their masters ; they were served with the same 
meal which was placed on the noble's board. On this soli- 
tary occasion too, wax candles burned on their account 
in the crystal chandeliers, flowers decked the vases, and easy 
chairs held out their arms to receive them. 

Who can tell what thoughts passed through their minds, 
what ideas may have disturbed their narrow brains ? Was 
it envy or gratitude that flushed their faces 1 In Western 
countries, it would probably have been envy; but the Russian 
peasant is a good-hearted fellow ; his simple nature inclines 
to gratitude ; for one that would rebel, a thousand v would 
carry with them to the grave a hallowed remembrance of 
the day when their masters lent them the use of their house 
for their wedding feast. 

The woodman and milkmaid were to be married at seven 
o'clock in the evening, just like people of quality ; Madame 
Pajarof was awaiting them on the balcony to offer the bread 
and salt on the traditional wooden trencher, and not being 
patience itself, thought the ceremony a very long one. 
"Will they never come?" whispered she to Madame Ber- 
laguine ; "what can the priest be finding to say to themi" 
Malissof, leaning over the balustrade, smiled at his old 
fi:iend*s impatience, and thought the delay very agreeable. 
Seated on the last step at the bottom of the flight leading 



THB QENEBOUS DIPLOMATIST. 171 

up to the door, Eugenie, dressed in white, with pale pink 
ribbons, and resting her head on her hand, formed a subject 
for a vignette. She might have sat for Reverie, Melancholy, 
or some similar symbolical figure, and the picture was evi- 
dently a pleasant one for our diplomatist to contemplate. 

P^lagie's droschki made its appearance at the further end 
of the avenue, and the volatile lady, dressed all in white like 
a school-girl, alighted with a startling rustle of heavily 
starched petticoats. 

" She must be wearing a brown paper skirt underneath !** 
muttered Madame Pajarof. " Well, is it all over V asked she 
aloud of her neighbour. 

" They are coming along the garden on foot, and will be 
here in a moment. I determined to stay to the end, to see 
them embrace each other in church. It is such a touching 
custom, this conjugal kiss, exchanged beneath the eye of 
heaven." P61agie wiped her eyes with a much-scented 
cambric handkerchief, and glanced furtively at Malissof. 

" What can be more touching?' she resumed. "I can never 
be an unmoved spectator at a pretty wedding. A tender 
young creature vowing to give herself for life to him who 
is bound to protect and love her — " 

Malissof s gaze rested on Eugenie, who was in truth young 
and delicate, and made to inspire love. 

" Here comes your tender creature," said Madame Pajarof, 
arming herself with the trencher. " Was there ever a less 
poetic object T 

The wedding procession advanced across the lawn, headed 
by the bride and bridegroom, the former of whom certainly 
failed by her appearance to justify P^agie's emotion. Short 
and thickset, with a reddish, sunburnt face, she wore a white 
muslin dress which made her look as dark as a mulatto. 
The traditional wreath upon her head looked like the jewel 
of gold in the swine's snout ] her large red hands rendaxi^d. 



i 



172 THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 

conspicuous the butler's white cotton gloves, borrowed for 
the nonce ; but all this ugliness and vulgarity failed to de- 
tract from the deep frank joy which ennobled the bride's 
broad honest face. The bridegroom, who was as tall and 
straight as a poplar, gave her his hand with evident pride. 

" How well he looks ! He is a fine fellow," sighed P^lagie, 
who took care never to let a handsome man pass without a 
close scrutiny. 

"Every man has his mate," observed Madame Pajarof 
philosophically in French ; " you know the proverb, *there 
was never a'" — Fortunately, for Mademoiselle P^lagie's 
squeamish ears, her words were cut short by the arrival of 
the happy couple. They were duly blessed, and then went 
inside, where the band was playing with might and main. 

Who shall describe the bridal procession? Who shall 
speak of the monstrous combinations of lilac and blue, violet 
and chestnut brown, green and yellow 1 Who shall describe 
the short waists up to the armpits, of dresses originally des- 
tined for a slight mistress, and afterwards altered to fit a 
stout servant ; or the skirts lengthened by a band of Scotch 
plaid ? Who shall toll of the mantles of the First Empire, 
and the petticoats of the Restoration, which, through the 
caprice of an heiress ransacking her grandmother's wardrobe, 
had fallen to the lot of a washerwoman measuring four feet 
round ? The writer's pen shrinks from such a task, and leaves 
the reader to complete the picture for himself. 

Madame Pajarof scrutinized the procession through her 
eyeglass. " Don't they look for all the world like a regi- 
ment of apes who had stolen their dresses out of a pawn- 
broker's 1 " she remarked in French. This reflection did her 
good, and she went indoors to join the newly married couple 
in the inevitable glass of champagne. 

The ball began, opened by Madame Pajarof, who danced 
w/th her hiiaband^ and then returned to her seat " I have 



THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 173 

not daaced for twenty years at the least ! " said she, sinking 
into her arm-chair with a gasp. " I shall never dance again 
except at your wedding, my pet," added she, turning to Eu- 
genie, who was never far from her protecting skirts. "Try 
to let it come off soon, or my old legs will refuse to carry 
me." Eugenie made no answer. She had a special gift of 
silence. 

" Come, Malissof," resumed the old lady, " stand up and 
dance ! Do you imagine that Bourlakof sent me his band 
for nothing but this regiment of dressed up orang-outangs ? 
Dance away ! You can only be young once in your life, and 
I wish I were so still," added she with a sigh, half happy, 
and half sad. " Look, here is Pelagic coming in search of 
you, take care, she is going to ask you to dance." 

Eugenie turned towards the diplomatist with a flash of 
droll humour in her eyes ; he caught her meaning, bowed, 
smiled, and plunged with the young girl into the whirling 
crowd of waltzers. 

" You held out your hand, mademoiselle, " said he as he 
brought her back to her seat, " I should never have pre- 
sumed otherwise." 

" Is not one bound to save a man from drowning ? " said 
Eugenie, raising eyes that sparkled with mischief. 

" She is certainly a very intelligent girl," thought Malissof. 
He paid her great attention for the rest of the evening, much 
to Madame Berlaguine's delight. 

" You are a good child," said she to Mademoiselle Eugenie 
as their carriage rolled homewards. " You understood what 
I meant." 

Eugenie was silent as usual ; but if her mother could have 
foreseen the batteries concealed beneath this fallacious sil- 
ence, she would probably have whipped her daughter with- 
out the slightest regard to her eighteen years. As it was, 
she kissed her tenderly, and sent her off to bed. 



174 THE GBNBEOUa DIPL0MATI8T. 



CHAPTER VL 

■ 

During the month following, Malissof called twice, thrice, 
five times at Madame Borlaguine's — then his visits came in 
as quick succession as the knaves in a pack of cards, so that 
hardly a day passed without the friends meeting, either at 
the house of Eugenie's mother, or elsewhere. 

Many mothers would have evinced their satisfaction at 
such unmistakeable tokens of a growing attachment; but 
Madame Berlaguine was far too wise to act thus. Far from 
showing any eagerness in her intercourse with Malissof, she 
appeared, on the contrary, to treat him with coolness, though 
at the same time she took care to keep from the house all 
who miglit have frightened away the diplomatist. 

No young men were invited, only an occasional landowner, 
elderly, and fond of talking on agi'icultural subjects after 
dinner, ready to doze off in his armchair between dessert and 
tea, and apt to wake up suddenly, and ask why they were 
not playing a rubber. Not a single girl or young lady, but 
as often as might be, the adorable P^lagie, who had begun 
to lay regular siege to Malissof, and whose maids spent their 
nights in inventing new headdresses for her, and their days 
in getting-up her dresses. 

One day she arrived attired in pale pink, with a kind of 

tunic of embroidered net draped over it dt la grecque — 

Madame Berlaguine always suspected this tunic of having 

been a window-curtain in its early days. The costume was 

enlivened with pink bows, and P4\agi^ Viet^^lf bore so strong 



THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 176 

• 

a resemblance to a faded rose, that Mademoiselle Eugenie's 
malicious forefinger could not refrain from executing the first 
bars of that well-known air, " The Last Rose of Summer." 
This freak drew down such a black look from her mother, 
that she made her escape. Malissof, stifling his laughter, 
went to join her in the garden, where they walked together 
round a grove of ancient lime-trees, framed by one of those 
old hedges of yellow acacia, only found in the gardens of the 
Russian gentry. 

Eugenie was far from discouraging Malissof. With him 
she was by turns grave or gay, but always natural. He 
certainly knew more of the young girl's inmost heart than 
any one else, — and yet it was not the kind of intimacy he had 
hoped for. Some indescribable barrier lay between him and 
perfect confidence; at the moment when he felt ready to 
reveal all the complex tender sentiments struggling within 
him, a reserved look, silence, or a gesture, warned him not to 
venture on delicate ground. 

Malissof had never had much to do with young girls, and 
his present embarrassment was the result of his previous 
life. From his eighteenth year upwards, he had never ad- 
dressed a young girl, excepting to say to her : " You are the 
very image of your mother," or, " I knew your father well. 
We were great friends." Having once made these communi- 
cations, he never troubled himself again about the young 
lad}', beyond making her a respectful bow, accompanied by 
a paternal smile. 

Thus Eugenie was to him a living and charming mystery. 
One of our modem novelists has said : " Who can contem- 
plate without a shudder the abyss concealed by flowers, 
commonly known as a marriageable girl 1 " Malissof saw the 
flowers, but was unconscious of the abyss. 

On the day when Pelagie arrayed herself in the conspicu- 
ous pale pink dress, which formed such an unfortunate caoc 



176 THB GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 

trast to a complextion resembling unbleached linen, Anton 
Petrovitch admired more than ever the creepers and wood- 
bine which overhung the said precipice. Eugenie looked so 
simple and pretty in her delicately-tinted robe ; her whole 
being breathed such an air of candour and innocence, that 
our hero felt disposed to eloquence. " MsLdemoiselle," said 
he in a voice less steady than he could have wished, " are 
you happy here ? " 

Eugenie raised her quiet eyes to his face, and replied with- 
out a shade of embarrassment, " Certainly ! " 

" Have you never dreamed of anything else ? " resumed 
Malissof. 

The young girl did not reply instantly, and a deeper pink 
tinged her cheeks. "What do you mean?" said she at 
length. 

Malissof shrank from questioning her more precisely, and 
tried circumlocution. " Do you like a country life ? . Would 
you not rather settle in a town ? " 

** I am not ambitious," replied Eugenie simply. " One can 
enjoy life anywhere if one has a happy home." 

Malissof s heart leaped. It was years since he had felt 
such a keen emotion. Yet he contrived to maintain an im- 
passive face. " Then you would not be afraid to marry ? " 
said he. Eugenie made no reply. " By marriage," he went 
on to say, "I mean a complete life, mutual confidence, a 
community of joys and sorrows, doubling the former and 
softening the latter ; but," continued he, " perhaps this may 
not be a young girl's idea of marriage." 

"It is quite the idea I have formed of it," returned 
Eugenie, with downcast eyes. 

Ah ! could Malissof but have read her heart and seen the 

name of the man with whom she was dreaming of making 

the journey of life ! But, carried away by his own fancies, 

he acted like every one else, and started on a false scent. 



THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 177 

" Do you like me a little ? " resumed he, connecting this ap- 
parently irrelevant qiiestion in his own miud with the pre- 
ceding conversation. 

" Very much," replied the young girl, blushing, but with- 
out hesitation. 

" And do you trust me ? " 

" Yes, I think you have a good heart, and are to be de- 
pended upon." 

" Thank you," observed Malissof with emotion, and taking 
her hand, he pressed it to his lips. At that instant a tremen- 
dous rustle of starched petticoats was heard on the other side 
of the hedge, and P^lagie burst in upon them. ** Here we 
catch the diplomatist in the very act of confessing little 
girls 1 " cried this judicious person at the top of her shrill 
voice. 

Madame Berlaguine, like a prudent mother, was following 
close on her heels, in all haste, but, possibly much to her re- 
gret, there were no appearances to be saved. 

"Angels do not need to confess. Mademoiselle P^lagie," 
said Malissof with some irritation ; " but if you will deign to 
accept my services as your spiritual director, we will run 
over your besetting sins." 

" By which you mean to imply that / am no angel ? " re- 
turned P^lagie. "Be it so, I accept the ambassador's epi- 
gram, and challenge you to keep your word." 

Was Madame Berlaguine startled by the very thought of 
P^lagie's besetting sinsi At any rate she led away her 
daughter, leaving the ill-assorted couple together. For 
some minutes they walked in silence round the thick wall of 
acacia, which was already beginning to change colour. 
Malissof, who had at first felt furious at finding himself in- 
terrupted when so fairly launched, ended by becoming re- 
conciled to the interposition; a decisive step is so alarming 

that it were madness not to bless in secret, u^ou TQ.^<^<i>^\ss^ 

11 



178 THE GBNKROUS DIPLOMATIST. 

the hand of providence, for stopping you short on the edge 
of the abyss — and Malissof was still sane.. 

"Ah," sighed P^lagie, "you cannot enter into affairs of 
the heart." 

" What ] " rejoined Anton P^trovitch, slightly amazed. 

"No," resumed the lady, who was not readily abashed, 
"you men have hearts as dry as tinder." 

" And as ready to take fire ! " returned Malissof, who waa 
naturally prompt in repartee. 

The lady smiled with satisfaction ; she enjoyed this sort of 
encounter. " Such passions are but flashes in the pan," she 
said, " but I am speaking of real attachments, such as are 
experienced at the age when people understand their own 
feelings — " 

" At my age, for instance ? " put in Malissof, with an air 
of perfect innocence. 

" Yes," murmured P^lagie. " It is not till the early 
springtide of life is over, and the first lire of the soul spent^ 
that the true happiness of love can be experienced." 

"Tell me the story of your love-affairs. Mademoiselle 
P^lagie ! " said Malissof, yielding to the spirit of fiin so 
natural to people who are gifted with humour, but forced by 
their calling to maintain an appearance of gravity. 

" My love-affairs ! " exclaimed the lady, bridling. " Why, 
how often do you suppose me to have given away my heart?" 

"I know nothing about it, but it might be a hundred times 
from the way in which you carry on ! " thought the diplo- 
matist to himself, but the reflection did not pass his lips. 
" Let us talk about other people's love affairs," said he, " the 
subject will be more productive of appreciative remarks, and 
you are so witty. Mademoiselle Pelagic ! " 

The middle-aged spinster, still half vexed, smiled at this 

compliment, but shook her head. " Men are all alike," said 

she, with a playful air, not vjYioW^ it^^ ^xqxsx bitterness ; 



THB GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 179 

"they will not treat women as reasonable creatures, and 
they themselves — " Here she raised her hands to heaven, 
in protest against masculine follies. " I have never met but 
one man that was in earnest,'* she continued. 

" Was it myselfl" inquired Malissof, receiving a tap of her 
fan on his arm in reply. 

" No, a charming young fellow, the son of a neighbouring 
landowner who sold his estate last year to Madame Pajarof. 
He is quite a young man, as handsome as can be," here Pela- 
gie*s mouth watered, " almond-shaped eyes, white teeth, a 
fair beard as soft as silk." 

Malissof felt inclined to ask how she had acquired her 
knowledge of the last detail, but refrained for fear of arrest- 
ing the tide of her confidences. 

"Well," proceeded Pelagic without pausing for breath, 
" this young man was in earnest I During the three years 
I knew him he never paid attention to either any girl or any 
married woman. He was handsome and imimpressionable ! " 

" Like the savage Hippolytus," added Malissof " But, 
Mademoiselle P^lagie, I do not find it easy to follow the 
thread of your ideas ; you said just now that men are in- 
capable of earnestness in their attachments, which I am 
willing to allow ; but do you think them in earnest simply 
when they have no attachment ? " 

P^lagie had an especial dislike to following out any argu- 
ment, it was a task beyond her powers. " He is charming, 
I tell you," repeated she, with the obstinacy of a mule plant- 
ing itself against a wall. " As to anything else, you may 
judge for yourself, for next week he is coming to stay with 
Madame Pajarof, who adores him." 

A servant came in search of them, thus putting an end to 
P^lagie's confidences. They went into the house to tea, but 
she took care not to keep her news to herself; a piece of 
gossip is far too valuable not to \>e \Axxtia^ \r> 'Ockfe xjJwssl'^'?^ '^- 



180 THE OBNEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 

vantage in the country, and she gave it out as soon as she 
had eaten a couple of slices of bread and butter. " Nicholas 
Markof is coming on Monday," she proclaimed, between two 
gulps of tea. 

Madame Berlaguine set down the tea-pot she held in her 
hand. "Are you certain of that 1 " said she in a sharper 
tone than was usual to her. " Your news is sometimes to be 
accepted with reservations, my dear." 

" Not this time, at any rate ! " exclaimed P^lagie, stung 
to the quick. " Madame Pajarof told me so this morning ; 
he wrote to her yesterday," 

Eugenie was sipping her tea with an air of indifference ; 
her mother stole a glance at her, and opened her lips to put 
a question, but closed them again judiciously. 

" This young man appears to be quite a romantic hero," 
observed Malissof. 

" I don't know what these ladies can find in him," replied 
Madame Berlaguine, in the same rasping tone. " For my 
part ; I see nothing to admire. He is an ill-licked cub, an 
ambitious gloomy man who never says a word to any one." 

" Ah," said P^lagie, nearly choking herself in her eager- 
ness to speak, " here I find you blaming people who don't 
talk about themselves ? Then why should you despise those 
who do ? " Madame Berlaguine made a contemptuous ges- 
ture, and did not take up the challenge. 

" You inspire me with a wish to make the acquaintance 
of this ambitious man," said Malissof, ** ambitious people are 
generally either perfect nonentities, or persons with some 
superior gifts of which they are conscious; these are not 
really to be called ambitious, though the world confounds 
them in the same category." An argument as to ambition 
in the abstract was thus set on foot, into which both ladies 
eagerly plunged, Eugenie gave the speaker such a look of 
grateful affection as almost to daiaXeVvoi, 



THB GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 181 

The look was that of a thoughtful woman, and it furnished 
him with ample food for meditation during the next two 
days. He wished to see her again and have a long conver 
sation, his idea of marrying took more tangible form ; was 
not this young girl jnst the wife to suit him ? His relations 
might look for some one with a large fortune, and his friends 
for some one of higher rank ; but Malissof thought to him- 
self, not unreasonably, that a man chooses a wife to his own 
taste ; and now, when for the first time in his life he felt the 
want of a domestic hearth, would it not be foolish to let 
purely worldly considerations stand in his way? Still he 
wished for advice, and as he knew of no more reliable judg- 
ment than Madame Pajarofs, whimsical as it might be in 
shape, he decided on taking her into his confidence. 



CHAPTER VIL 

Four or five days had elapsed before Anton Petrovitch, 
wearing a bran new suit and gloves, and looking more spick 
and span than people in the coimtry ordinarily do excepting 
on f^te days, ordered his best horse to be put in the carriage, 
and drove up to his old friend's house. 

" Goodness gracious I " exclaimed she as he entered, 
" what, are you going to St. Petersburg ? " 

** I have no such intention, I assure you," replied Malissof, 
slightly embarrassed by the unexpected sensation that he had 
made. 

" General," cried the good lady, '' to the rescue, he is going 
to run away with me ! " The general murmured a few words 
from the depths of his arm chair, held out a lazy hand to the 
secretary, and returned to the land of Nod. 



182 THB OBNBROtIS DIPLOMATIST. 

" There ! '* said Madame Pajarof, "just imagine me really 
in want of help. You see what is the use of a husband ! " 

At this moment a young man with dark eyes and a light 
beard, came into the room. Malissof recognised the original 
of the flattering portrait drawn by Pelagie, who had, however,, 
omitted one detail ; instead of the morose, rustic fellow he 
expected to meet, ^ man of intelligent and prepossessing 
appearance stood before him. 

" Here comes a protector at any rate," proceeded Madame 
Pajarof, " who will not stand by and see me carried off with- 
out striking a blow. Nicholas Markof, whom I look upon as 
a son — Monsieur Malissof, my neighbour and friend." The 
two men shook hands, Markof without saying a word, 
Malissof making some courteous remark. 

" Why are you got up in this way ? " resumed the pitiless 
Madame Pajarof, " if you are not trying to make an im- 
pression on me, it must be on some one else. Shall I summon 
P^agie ] " 

The three persons present — for the general counted for 
nothing — interchanged glances and slight smiles, which set 
them at once at their ease. Nothing promotes sociability 
more readily than a joint laugh at the expense of some one else. 

" Pray, forgive me," said Malissof laughing, " and set it 
down to absence of mind ; I was thinking of other things as 
I dressed — * 

"Your thoughts were in the metropolis," said Madame 
Pajarof in an indulgent tone ; " bad habits always leave some 
trace behind ! You come to call on an old lady in the 
country, and dress as. if you were going to the opera ! You 
put me to the blush ! " 

"I will never offend again," said Malissof, "forgive me 
this once." 

" You are absolved : and now, what favourable breeze has 
blown yoa hither ! " 



MB GfiNBIlOtJS t)IPL01tATlST. 183 

" The pleasure of seeing you," gallantly returned the 
diplomatist, as he kissed Madame Pajarof s good old hand. 

They talked a great deal while the general slept. Markof 
was as well informed as a man of twenty-three can be ; he 
was rather too dogmatic, and had some erroneous ideas, and 
too decided an opinion on some special questions, which he 
had retained from his schooldays and professors* classes ; but 
he took wide views of things in general, and showed a generous 
youthful enthusiasm, and, above all, a wish to make himself 
useful. These qualities, combined with P^lagie's revelations 
about his indiflference to the ladies of that neighbourhood, 
gave him an interest in the eyes of Malissof, whose habits led 
him to scrutinize all with whom he came in contact. 

After an hour or two of conversation and an abundant 
country dinner, the company dispersed in every direction, 
and Malissof at length found himself alone with his old friend. 
" What did you come to ask ? " said she. " I quizzed you 
because I could not help it, my love of fun always gets the 
better of me, as you know, but if there is anything I can 
really do — " 

"Thank you, I know your kindness,'* murmured the 
diplomatist. He ruminated for some moments, looked at the 
good lady, and then said abruptly : " Am I too old to think 
of marrying 1 " 

" I knew it was something to do with marriage I " observed 
she triumphantly. " But I am not a widow, my friend, and I 
hope you have no intention of killing the general in order to 
marry me oflF hand." Malissof gave a reassuring shake of his 
head. 

" Then who is it you want to marry ] " resumed Madame 
Pajarof, thoroughly enchanted with her own sagacity. 

" I will tell you that afterwards ; say first whether I am 
too old to marry." 

"Not at all! Not at all! You are— 1" 



k 



184 THS aBl^EROUS DIPLOMATIST. 

" Thirty-nine years and seven months." 

" Then you are not turned forty. Turn and let me look 
at your head. Your hair is thick both before and behind." 

" There are some grey hairs," observed Malissof timidly, 

" No one will notice them unless you dye them," remarked 
Madame Pajarof. " What fortune have you ] " 

"I have an average income of thirty thousand roubles, 
taking one year with another." 

" Perhaps you have set your affections on the Queen of 
Golconda, or the daughter of the Tycoon ? " 

" My ambition does not soar so high ; a simple mortal will 
satisfy me." 

" Very well. What is your character 1 " 

" Undecided, but rather easy ; no whims or peculiarities." 

"And an excellent heart. As to principles, I need not 
speak of them, since you think of marrying, for marriage is a 
baptism of fire purging everything. Amen. Well then, my 
dear friend, go and marry ! " Malissof made no reply. 

" Marry, I say, in the abstract," went on Madame Pajarofj 
"since you appear to have no more definite prospect of 
marriage." 

" There is something more definite," put in Malissof. 

"Ah! May I know r 

" It is Eugenie Berlaguine," said he, struggling against 
the bashfulness of a young actor, which sat badly on a 
diplomatist 

"She is a nice creature," replied Madame Pajarof, after a 
silence which seemed long to the expectant suitor; "pretty, 
well made, a good girl — witty — in short, I am very fond of 
her," concluded she. 

" Would you like to see her my wife 1" 

" I should indeed !" exclaimed the old lady emphatically. 

"And would you like to see me her husband 1" 
*^ Certainly, if she lovea you V 



THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 185 

"Why should she not love mel In time, I mean. 
Hitherto I have made no effort to please her, but — " 

"You can try, my friend ; and yet I too must say, hut — " 

" Have you any reason for saying so T exclaimed Malis- 
sof, starting up and turning very pale. 

"I know nothing; question her— she is, I believe, very 
straightforward ; then you will learn at once what you may 
hope for." 

" Do you think her mother would let me have her T 

Madame Pajarof sank back in her chair with the quiet 
laugh of an old person who has seen a good deal of the world 
and understands human nature. " Make your mind easy on 
that score," said she, " if you see Madame Berlaguine refuse 
her daughter to a man with an income of thirty thousand 
roubles a year, you may boast of having seen something 
unique of its kind." 

"And yet I should not like to be accepted merely on 
account of my fortune," said Malissof, pained at the very 
thought. 

" Go at once to Eugenie herself ; she is straightforward, 
as I say ; whatever she says, you may trust her word." 

" I will take your advice," said Malissof, and thank you for 
giving it" 

"And now in return," said the old lady, "will you do 
something for me ?" 

" Anything in my power !" 

" Try to get some appointment for Markof, he has plenty 
of ability, but is not a great favom-ite here, he is rather above 
the heads of the people in our neighbourhood ; I think you 
would not find him give you any cause for complaint." 

Malissof promised to see what he could do, and the very 
next day, indeed, after talking to the young man all the 
evening, he despatched two or three letters to friends upon 
whose influence and willingness to serve him ha CA\iX5L^<s^. 



186 "THB QEN£»OUS DIPLOMATIST. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Several days passed, spiteful days which seemed to take a 
pleasure in running counter to the plans of feeble mortals. 
In the first place, the weather was abominable, and then the 
work going on in the fields required especial surveillance, 
and Malissofs bailiff chose to fall ill at this very juncture. 
Our hero passed some sad eveniugs alone in his mother's 
little sitting-room, questioning the future and despairing of 
happiness. Have we not all experienced that on rainy days 
our minds are predisposed to melancholy impressions ? The 
sun at length emerged from the clouds, and Malissof ordered 
the carriage to come round to take him to Madame Ber- 
laguine's. 

It was about six o'clock on a Sunday evening ; the earth, 
refreshed by the rain, was clad with new verdure ; there was 
a promise of an abundant aftermath, and the gathered har- 
vest filled the hearts of the peasantry with a sense of security, 
which was reflected in their faces. 

Malissof drove through prosperous villages where children 
were sporting in the pools left by the recent torrents of ra,in; 
the old people sat outside their cottages on wooden benches, 
looking on at the young folks* games ; they had fastened to 
the planks the long see-saw on which the girls sat closely 
packed, singing together, while the lads, dressed in red shirts, 
with round flat hats of felt decorated with peacock feathers 
and gaily tilted over one ear, softly swung them, keeping time 
to the tune for hours together. 
Malissof ga^ed as he drove pa&t on. these pictures of rural 



TflE GBI^EROTJS DIPLOMATIST. 187 

life, and asked himself whether the happiness of these people 
did not exceed that of citizens who^ attain some object of 
ambition or interest after great exertions ; he too felt as if 
his tastes grew simpler in the midst of this simple nature, 
and Eugenie looked to him ten times more charming, as she 
appeared in the window of her mo therms drawing-room, in 
the midst of the green shrubs which surrounded the front of 
the house. 

He had scarcely alighted from his carriage, when he- per- 
ceived an air of sadness on the young girVs face which he 
had never before seen. She must have been crying, for her 
eyes looked slightly swollen, and a few red spots were visible 
on her peach-like cheeks. After a few preliminary questions, 
Malissof endeavoured by skilful remarks to ascertain what 
could have taken place that day, but Madame Berlaguine 
was not to be sifted. There was something unusual too in 
her manner ; her natural rudeness, generally concealed be- 
neath a thick veneer of affected courtesy, became more 
apparent than was seemly, and instead of coming and going 
as usual on incessant errands of hospitality, she never left 
the room, but watched over her daughter with argus eyes. 

Malissof s curiosity was aroused, but all his diplomatic 
arts threatened to avail him little on this occasion. At last 
Madame Berlaguine left the drawing-room, but before he had 
had time to open his lips, she summoned her daughter also. 
Eugenie obeyed, murmuring a word of excuse, and left the 
diplomatist to his own devices. 

For a moment, he felt inclined to take his hat and go, but 
the thought of the disgrace which Eugenie had evidently in- 
curred, inspired him with a hope of rendering her some 
service, so he remained. An angry whispering in the 
adjoining room suggested that Madame Berlaguine was scold- 
ing her daughter; in such a case it is useless to resolve not 
to listen, the ear naturally distends and mxc^VvssAiiCL^ 



188 THB GBNEROUS l)I]?LOlCATIST. 

acquires prodigious acuteness. Thus he unintentionally 
overheard these words, which seemed the close of some long 
lecture. 

" I will not hear a word about him, I tell you ! You will 
do as I command you, or else I will send you away and put 
you to a foreign boarding-school, where you will never see 
me again ! " 

Eugenie re-entered almost immediately ; she had turned 
almost white, her eyes looked distended, and she walked with 
difficulty, her hands drooping at her side. Malissof rose to 
assist her, but she made a sign to stop him, and said, as she 
raised her eyes full of a gloomy fire to his face : " Will you 
take a turn in the garden ? " 

He bowed in silence and followed her. She directed her 
steps towards the old bower, entered the shade of the grand 
lime-trees, and seated herself on a worm-eaten wooden bench, 
which ran all round the enclosure. 

" You are in trouble, mademoiselle 1 " said Malissof, deeply 
touched by the sight of her grave, mute despair. 

" Yes," replied she, and her large eyes rested for a moment 
on his face, and then sank with a melancholy listlessness. 

" You must know what I feel for you," resumed Malissof; 
" speak to me frankly and tell me if I can be of any help ? " 
She looked up, then hung down her head without a word. 

" I love you," he began, but checked himself, for the occar 
sion seemed most unsuitable for a declaration of his feelings; 
** I love you tenderly and wish to be a true friend, the best, 
most reliable — " 

" Do you really mean it 1 " said she, with a faint ray of 
hope in her weary eyes. 

The sun's low rays pierced the bower, entering through 

the opening made in the green wall, and making the gravel 

sparkle; all nature seemed happy, the gaiety of a bright 

summer evening extending even to the ^raaa on which the 



THE GENEROUS DIFLOHATIBT. 189 

crickets sprang — Anton Petrovitch rose and drew near to 
Eugenie. " I will be the best and truest of friends," repeated 
he ; "I love you better than myself, and cannot bear to see 
you suffer. Trust me, my child." 

While he spoke, a bitter grief was gnawing at his heart ; 
Eugenie's was no childish sorrow ; then what could have 
wrought such a change in her sweet face ? The words ** my 
child," rose to his lips naturally, but with a savour of bitter- 
ness. 

Eng^nie gazed at him fixedly, scrutinising his countenance ; 
he stood before her, awaiting her answer, — she threw herself 
into his arms, laid her head on his breast, and wept. He 
held her in a close embrace ; he had dreamed of making this 
girl his wife, and she had surrendered herself to his arms in 
perfect confidence, and yet her touch brought him no joy, but 
a poignant grief, which he lingered over for a moment with 
a kind of bitter relish. 

" This, then, was the bliss awaiting me ! " said he to him- 
self. He made the young girl sit down by his side on the 
bench, took one of her hands and laid it between his own, 
and then said in a soft, caressing tone : " Tell me all your 
troubles, confide in me." 

" You really love me," said she, upraising a face wet with 
tears ; " my mother does not really love me, she only loves 
her own pride and ambition — " 

** Compose yourself," broke in Malissof, "your mother does 
not love you in the way you would like, and yet her affection 
for you is very great." 

" She wants to see me rich and in a high position — I have 
no such tastes — I was not made for that ! " 

Malissof sighed ; she was jitst the wife he sought ; was this 
flower of the field never to blossom in his garden ? 

" My life has been very hard since you came," pursued 
Eugenie ; " before that, all was rights I ^«a \ft^ \si ^os?^^^^. 



190 THB GBNEBOUS DIPLOMATIST. 

but since — ^" she coloured, paused, and tried to disengage her 
hand, but Malissof held it gently fast. 

" I have been looked upon as a good match in the neigh- 
bourhood," said he, " and an attempt has been made to force 
you to regard me in the same light 1 " 

"Yes," she replied, reassured on finding herself understood. 
"I was ordered to behave well to you — ^that was not difi&cult,*' 
added she, with an angelic smile, which affected Malissof 
almost to tears, " you are so kind ! But that was not enough, 
I was to play the coquette, I was scolded for not taking pains 
to make myself agreeable — " 

" Which was a much more effective way of playing the 
coquette," said Malissof in a low voice. She looked up in 
astonishment, he smiled and made a sign for her to con- 
tinue. 

"I did not wish to make myself agreeable," said she, grow- 
ing more animated ; " it seems to me wrong to give hopes 
that can never be realised, and then, even if you had shown 
me any preference " — Her colour rose, and her face fell, as 
she resumed : "It would not have been in my power, I was 
not free to — " She snatched away both hands and buried Her 
face. 

" You love some one else, and have promised to marry 
him ? " asked Malissof without any apparent emotion. From 
the very commencement of the conversation, he had been 
gradually preparing himself for this confession, and now 
scarcely felt it a shock. 

" Yes," rejoined she eagerly, " I love Nicholas Markof ; 
you have seen him and may have formed some idea of his 
character, but you cannot tell the value of his heart ! No 
one knows that but myself. For the last two years he has 
been working for me, making a position, and toiling day and 
night. His courage and patience have obtained him a situ- 
■foiz in the railway-service, nol\xm^ ^^\id, certainly, but 



THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 191 

enough to live od. He has not a penny of his own," she con- 
tinued turning on Malissof her open face, all sparkling with 
womanly pride ; " his father sold the estate last year by 
Nicholas' advice, in order to pay off the old debts that had 
accumulated when he was in the hussars. * Father,' said he, 
* I could not eat a morsel of bread made from the corn grown 
on your estate while your creditors remain unpaid.' Some 
of these creditors had long given up all hopes of ever seeing 
their money again, they had become quite poor, and thought 
no more of old Markof except to rail at him for his dis- 
honesty. Nicholas could not bear the idea of a single man 
being able to say a word against his father, so they sold the 
estate and paid everything off ; the old man reserved a small 
annuity for himself, but Nicholas will have nothing, nothing 
but his noble soul and his talents. And when he came just 
now to ask my mother for my hand, she showed him the 
door, yes, Anton Petrovitch, she sent him away because he 
was poor. I love him, poor as he is, and I mean to be his 
wife, or to die ! " 

She had risen, and her indignation added an inch to her 
stature. Malissof gazed steadily at her, then taking both 
her hands, he drew her towards him and imprinted a pater- 
nal kiss upon her brow. " I promise you that you shall be- 
come his wife and live for many and many a year." 

" Ah ! " cried she, throwing her arms round his neck with 
a sudden impulse, " how I love you. I love you as if you 
were my father ! " 

Her father ! Alas, while his paternal hand smoothed the 
lovely hair which had become rujffled by her sudden move- 
ment, one solitary burning tear fell on Eugenie's bowed head. 
She did not feel it, and nothing distm-bed her happiness. 
" But what must we say to my mother ] " resumed she, after a 
minute. 

" Tell her that I have shown you a great dft^VQ»^^^<y52»^'«»S^ 



192 THB GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 

affection, and that I mean to come again shortly to have 
some serious conversation with her," replied Malissof, 
resuming his diplomatic habits. 

She looked at him dubiously, then caught his meaning, and 
smiled. But another thought came into her head, and made 
her grave again. " But as to yourself, Anton Petrovitch," 
said she, " people said you wanted to marry — " 

" I shall be thoroughly happy if I see you happy," replied 
he with perfect sincerity. " Now, let us go in." 

Madame Berlaguine*s maternal heart expanded with 
unusual effusion that day. The most cordial understanding 
existed between her daughter and the wealthy suitor ; they 
exchanged smiles and meaning glances acrpss the table ; there 
was even a sweetness and tenderness in their voices. As 
soon as Malissof was gone, the affectionate mother tried to 
cross-question her daughter ; but as it was not the habit of 
the latter to make long answers or go into particulars, she 
was unable to obtain any information beyond that conveyed 
in the words agreed upon with the diplomatist. 



CHAPTER IX. 



Anton Petrovitch returned home in a peculiar state of 
mind ; for the first time in his life he experienced an actual 
enjoyment in suffering ; the recollection of a former attach- 
ment — a cup suddenly dashed from his lips two-and-twenty 
years ago — came back to him with unusual sweetness. His 
present position bore some resemblance to that in which he 
had once before found himself; then, too, the coveted object 
had just eluded his grasp, but the years that had since flown 
had imbued him, not merely with wisdom and moderation, 
but with a depth of feeling \mki\owu to youth. He loved 



THE GBNBROUS DIPLOMATIST. 193 

now as he had never dreamed of loving, and yet at the first 
sununons of fate he had renounced his love without the 
slightest struggle or attempt at rebellion. 

This stupor and resignation did not last long ; a voice soon 
awoke within him, crying, "Why should I renounce the 
pleasures of* life ? why not rather let her make the sacrifice 1 
Would she be the first woman forced to give up the man of 
her choice ? Would not a life spent with me be happier and 
more enviable than the one she can expect by the side of her 
poor clerk 1 I have it in my power to offer her all the 
advantages to which she is a stranger. I will give her every- 
thing, rank, handsome dresses, jewels, horses, and whatever 
lies within the reach of a doting husband^s purse and devo- 
tion — all shall be hers ; and let us see whether, when she is 
ambassadress at Paris or Rome, she will still think of her 
poor struggling Nicholas Markof ! " 

He paced his room with long strides, threatening his ad- 
verse fate with outstretched arm. — Then his agitation sub- 
sided, and he sat down. "Yes," said he to himself, "her 
mother throws her into my arms, the world assigns her to me, 
but what would come of my marrying her against her will ? 
While I am sleeping, proudly happy, she will be passing the 
night in weeping, stifling her sobs, and thinking of the humble 
home she might have shared with the man she loved ; of 
what avail will be the luxury with which I surroimd her, the 
selfish indulgences which so soon lose their charm, and the 
triumphs of a world for which she does not feel herself fitted ? 
And supposing I awake and find her in tears, weeping over 
the dream which I have ruthlessly broken, should I kill her, 
or him, or myself, to put an end to such tortures ? I Jbave 
made a promise and I will keep it," continued he ; " now 
that I have learned the truth, I could never be happy ; let 
the happiness be hers who has not yet been taught the hard 

lessons of life ! " 

1<( 



194 THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 

He went down into the garden; the night was far ad- 
vanced, a paler gleam in the east heralded the dawn ; he 
walked for some time up and down the fresh damp avenues, 
and then returned indoors. He wrote a note to Nicholas 
Markof, begging him to come and see him at once, despatched 
a messenger, and threw himself on his bed as the sun rose 
above the horizon. 

The messenger found Markof up and stirring, though it 
was scarcely more than seven o'clock. He, too, had passed 
a restless night. He ordered a horse to be saddled, left a 
message for Madame Pajarof with directions to deliver it as 
soon as she awoke, and started off in some astonishment and 
no little anxiety. 

Malissof was asleep when he arrived, but the slight noise 
made by the horse's hoofs in the courtyai'd awoke him. He 
was ready in a twinkling, and hastened downstairs to meet 
his visitor. " You must excuse me for having disturbed you 
at this early hour," said he, holding out his hand, " but the 
affair I have to speak to you about is too serious to admit of 
delay." 

Markof bowed silently. 

"Madame Berlaguine does not regard you favourably, I 
am told," piu^ued Malissof. 

"Excuse me," said the young man rising, "but that is my 
affair." 

" My information comes from Mademoiselle Berlaguine." 

Markof sat down again and bit his lips. 

"Mademoiselle Eugenie has deigned to honour me with 
her confidence, and I believe I am the only person to whom 
she has ever mentioned your name. To avoid all misunder- 
standing, I will come at once to the point. In a word, sir, 
she loves you — and I love her." 

The two men faced each other steadily as enemies for a 
moment, then Markof s ihrealemtv^ ^^^TGsaion gave way to a 



THE GBNBROUS DIPLOMATIST. 195 

bitter sadness. " You have the advantage of me, sir," said 
he ; "I am refused and you are accepted. / 1 respect her 
too much to run away with her — I cannot imagine why 
you sent for me, unless it was that you might enjoy your 
triumph." 

"I told you she was in love with yow," repeated Malissof; 
" so the advantage is on your side, not on mine. I confessed 
my love fpr her, but not with the motive you ascribe to me ; 
if you really love her and know her character, it remains for 
you to judge which of us she would do best to choose. If 
you feel yourself capable of bearing a life of struggle and 
poverty with her, and are certain that your love for her is 
strong enough to prevent her ever regretting her choice, I 
will withdraw my claims ; but, before deciding, pause and , 
ask yourself whether she would not better secure her happi- 
ness by becoming my wife." 

Markof remained silent for a moment, and then raised 
his eyes, turning them on Malissof with a frank, manly gaze. 
" You are a good man," said he ; "we are not accustomed 
to see men in society troubling themselves about their wives* 
happiness, but the answer you seek has been made by my 
heart for the last two years. I cannot be happy without 
Eugenie, and am equally persuaded that she could not be 
happy without me. A I eart like hers is never capable of 
more than one real attachment, and her heart has been mine 
ever since it was conscious of beating. There is an immense 
difference, it is true, between your position and mine, but 
Eugenie has never looked for anything higher than what she 
may expect to share with me ; thus the advantages you can 
offer have no real existence for her, since she will never 
know them." 

" He uses rather too many words," thought Malissof, " but 
the substance is genuine. Granted," resumed he aloud ; 
** but as to yourself, will you never regret havvv\^ d£.>^x\vv^^ 



196 THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 

her of advantages which are substantial, although they may 
seem valueless in her eyes 1 " 

Markofs face lighted up with a smile, the smile of a 
triumphant young lover who despises all obstacles, and over- 
comes them by the mere force of contempt. This triumph- 
ant smile completed his conquest of Malissof, though it 
plunged the barb of suffering still deeper into the diplomatist's 
heart. They exchanged a cordial grasp. 

" Very well," said Malissof, " I will vacate the field, and 
henceforth you may look on me as a friend. What can I do 
for you 1 " 

" Nothing, so far as I know," returned Markof, with his 
winning frankness. " There may be nothing in your power." 

Malissof thought that at any rate he could obtain him 
some good appointment, but he kept this reflection to 
himself. " How do you stand with Madame Berlaguine 1 " 
said he. 

" On the worst terms possible," replied the young man, 
unable to refrain from smiling. " Now that I have an aUy, 
I may venture to laugh, but it was more than I could do last 
night ; she positively forbade me ever to enter her house, 
and swore that she would never cross Madame Pajarofs 
threshold so long as I remained there." 

" Plain speaking, at any rate," said Malissof, " Is she ob- 
stinate?" Markof made an energetic sign of assent. " Is there 
no hope, then," continued the diplomatist, "that she may 
change her mind ?" 

" It is not likely. My father, as you perhaps know, parted 
with his estate last year. Before that I was well received, 
and my suit might possibly have been encouraged then ; but 
now, that — " He completed his sentence with a waive of the 
hand more expressive than words. 

^^So that if you would marry Mademoiselle Eugenie, you 
luust elope with herl" suggested 'NL^x^'e^o.^ ^e.wtly. 



THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 197 

Markof looked troubled. " It is a bold step," said he at 
length, "but Madame Pajarof has already advised it." 

" Ah !" exclaimed Malissof, who could not help laughing, 
"my old friend is always for prompt measures." 

The new allies breakfasted together and concocted a plan 
which promised the greatest success ; after breakfast, Markof 
returned to good Madame Pajarof, while Malissof went oflf to 
the Berlaguines. It was well that he had found no time to 
expend in useless self-compassion, he had thus spared himself 
a world of fruitless suffering; besides, when he had once made 
up his mind, it was contrary to his habits to revert to the past. 



CHAPTER X. 



The Berlaguine household was enjoying its siesta ; not the 
mistress only, but the servants had lain down to sleep in all 
manner of places, more especially in the open air; still the 
sonorous antechambers resounded with melodious snores. 
Anton Petrovitch's arrival disturbed their rest, and the men- 
servants fled in every direction, even into the maids' hall, 
which speedily became lively with the cackle of terrified hens. 

"Good heavens !" growled the old housekeeper to Malissof s 
coachman, who was slowly leading his panting horses into 
the shade, " whatever possesses your master to come driving 
across country at an hour when every Christian is taking re- 
fuge from the heat ?" 

" Oh, it would be well if that were all," returned the coach- 
man. " Our people say that the master spent the whole night 
in walking up and down his room or in the garden. He must 
be head over ears in love with your young mistress to lose his 
sleep in that way. You are likely to have a wedding soon, 
I think." 



19S THE GEllEllOtJS DIPLOMATIST. 

While these and similar remarks were being exchanged 
outside, Madame Berlaguine, whose eyes were still heavy with 
sleep, but whose heart swelled with joyous impatience, was 
keeping up a disjointed and uninteresting conversation in the 
drawing-room with Anton Petrovitch. He kept his eyes fixed 
on the door, awaiting Eugenie^s entrance, before touching on 
the object of his visit. The mother saw this, and rang twice 
to let her daughter know he was there, though she was well 
aware that the poor child was in the hands of half a dozen 
waiting-maids, who were attiring her in all haste, in a white 
dress fresh from the hands of the laundress. At length she 
made her appearance, and walking straight up to Malissof, 
gave him her hand without the least trace of embarrassment 
A furtive smile, accompanied by a slight gesture which be- 
tokened surprise at his coming so "soon, repaid him for the 
pains he had taken. She sat down, and every one waited in 
suspense. 

" Madame," said Malissof, "you have been kind enough to 
receive me well, and your daughter is also good enough to give 
me some encoiu-agement — are you disposed to entrust her 
happiness to me V 

Madame Berlaguine put her handkerchief to her eyes ; 
real tears of pride and aflfection were streaming down her 
cheeks. " With what joy, dear Anton Petrovitch I Who 
could be more worthy of my treasure?" 

" Then you place unbounded confidence in me, and feel 
sure that I can wish for nothing but to ensure your daughter's 
happiness ? " 

"Need you ask such a question?" exclaimed the enraptured 
mother, " it is easy to see how passionately you love her!" 

Eugenie turned pale and looked at Malissof; he put a good 
face on the matter, and veiled the stab beneath a winning 
smile. " Then, dear madame, will you leave her fate entirely 
In wy haudsV* 



THB GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 199 

** Of course I will !" said Madame Berlaguine, slightly sur- 
prised at his persistency. 

** In that case," pursued Malissof, " allow me to give her 
hand to the man whom she prefers, one who seems far better 
suited to her in age and tastes than myself, a man whom I 
esteem and am prepared to treat as my son — Nicholas Markof." 

" To him !" cried Madame Berlaguine, starting up from her 
seat, " you are turning me into ridicule. Monsieur Malissof ! 
And as to you, shameless girl, who have been plotting with 
strangers against your mother's peace of mind — " 

Eugenie, too, had risen instinctively to avoid her mother's 
threatening hand, which had come dangerously near her 
cheek ; she clung to Malissof, who put his arm round her. 
"You place me in a strange position, madame," said he 
calmly ; " pray, notice, that it is I, the stranger, as you call 
me, who have to protect your daughter from your anger !" 

" You are a dishonest man !" hissed Madame Berlaguine 
between her teeth, with subdued rage. "After compromising 
my daughter by your visits, aud making the whole country 
talk of her approaching marriage to you — " 

" The report was not circulated entirely by me," said 
Malissof quietly. 

"It has circulated, at any rate, whoever set it on foot, and 
now, after compromising her, you put forward in your place 
some wretched — " 

" He is the man I love, mother," said Eugenie, raising her 
head and stepping forward ; "a man worth more than — " 

Her sentence remained unfinished, cut short by a stinging 
blow. Malissof folded her in both arms and hid her outraged 
cheek on his shoulder. "Madame," said he, "you retain 
your maternal rights and can use them ; but until you return 
to your senses, it may be well to shield your daughter from 
your violence." 

He caught up his hat, and led the '^owxy^ ^V>^'«iC^ ^gssr 



200 THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 

circled in his arms, to the steps. The coachman was waiting 
a few paces off; at a sign from his master, he drove up; 
Malissof got into the carriage with Eugenie, almost lifting 
her in, and off they drove without a word, much to the 
astonishment of the household. 

Madame Berlaguine, who had failed to catch the real im- 
port of the diplomatist's words, rushed to the head of the 
steps at the sound of the wheels, but was only in time to see 
the carnage vanishing roimd the comer in a cloud of dust. 

Our travellers hardly exchanged a word during their drive ; 
Eugenie was without a hat, and the sun beat down on her 
head ; Malissof ordered the hood to be put up, and both suf- 
fered much from the heat ; at length, thanks to his excellent 
horses, Madame Pajarofs house came in sight sooner than he 
had anticipated. 

On seeing Eugenie appear on the scene without a hat, in 
a white dress and blue sash, with one cheek very red, and 
the other very white, Madame Pajarof felt that something 
very unusual must have happened, and without a single ex- 
clamation she conducted her visitors to the drawing-room, and 
closed the door behind them; but, just as they entered on 
the left, Markof, who had seen tlieir strange arrival from his 
window, appeared on the right. 

The quartet stood petrified ; the first impulse of the lov- 
ers was to rush up to each other, but they were restrained by 
Malissof s presence. He looked at them affectionately, and 
once more stifling the bitterness which lurked in his heart, 
took Eugenie by the hand. " I give her into your keeping," 
said he to Markof; " may you both be happy." 

The young couple timidly laid hold of each other's hand; 

then Markof, growing bolder, gi'asped that of the young girl, 

and by a common impulse, they knelt down before Malissof 

as if he were their father, to ask for his blessing. He gave 

j'tj and raising them from iheir "kwces, \yo\Tvled>, without speak- 



THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 201 

ing, to the garden. They went out hand in hand, and the 
door closed on their youthful raptures. 

Malissof, still mute, sat down and buried his troubled face 
in his hands. His old friend drew near, and laid her hand 
on his shoulder without a word. He turned round. "I 
thought, for one moment, of carrying her off to my own 
house,"' said he ; "I am glad I resisted the temptation." 

"God will bless you," said Madame Pajarof, "you are a 
good man." 

Malissof struggled a moment with his uncontrollable 
emotion ; then he choked back the swelling tears, pressed his 
hand to his heart, which beat cruelly, and paced up and 
down the room. " This is not all," said he, as soon as he was 
able to speak ; what are we to do now ? Her mother struck 
her; if she returns home, the marriage will never take 
place." 

" Of course not," said Madame Pajarof; " she will not re- 
turn till she is married. I shall arrange it all." She rang 
the bell, and a servant entered. " Go and fetch the priest," 
were her orders. 

In twenty minutes the priest appeared. He was a good 
old man, rather deaf, and so goodnatured that if the adjec- 
tive had not been in existence, it must have been coined for 
him. He came in, bowed, and took his seat with a winning 
smile which would have softened the heart of a wild beast. 

"See here. Father Andre," said Madame Pajarof, reverting 
to stratagem; "something very extraordinary has just 
happened. Madame Berlaguine, my friend and neighbour, 
was intending to marry her daughter Eugenie." Father 
Andr^ smiled, and glanced knowingly at Malissof. 

" No, not to that gentleman," pursued the good lady, " but 
to young Markof ; I invited the young man to come here a 
week ago, for the very purpose. The wedding was to have 
taken place at Madame Berlaguine'8ch\irc\i^tcw3c^xjKA^^^»a. 



202 THB GBNBROUS DIPLOMATIST. 

• the day fixed, bat the priest has been obliged to leave home 
for a little while ; these young people are naturally im- 
patient, you see, and we thought you might consent- to marry 
them from my house." 

" Certainly," said Father Andr6, falling into the trap. 

** Madame Berlaguine has begged me to represent her on 
this occasion ; I suppose you will not require any documents, 
since you know the young people." 

" Why should I, for children I have known from their in- 
fancy ? " said the old man, smiling. 

" I am to represent the mother ; Monsieur Malissof is to 
act as father to the bride, and we will have them married at 
seven o'clock this evening." 

" This evening ? " repeated the priest, rather startled. 

" Yes, Monsieur Malissof has to start on a long journey 
to-morrow, and as he has promised to give the child away, we 
are obliged to hurry it on." 

" I shall be grateful if you will render me this service, my 
father," said Malissof, holding out his hand to the old man. 
The hand contained a hundred rouble note, which he left in 
that of Father Andre's, who, knowing his rich neighbour's 
wealth and liberality, was troubled with no suspicions, but 
departed with profuse bows and thanks, to tell his wife to 
look out his best clothes. 

In spite of the gravity of the situation, the two accom- 
plices could not refrain from a laugh as the door closed behind 
him. " I have played my cards well," said Madame Pajarof. 
*'Now, Madame Berlaguine might take it into her head to 
come in quest of her daughter ; she had better not, for upon 
my word, I should be ready to return her the blow she gave 
poor Eugenie ! But this might create some disturbance." 

" I will send P^lagie off to her at once," said Malissof, 
'* with my horses, so as to lose no time." 
I '' That mil never do," broke m V)cve <A^ VsA^ \ " P^lagie 



THE GfiNEUOtS DIPLOMATIST. 203 

would say next day that you were going to marry her, and 
had given her the horses as a betrothal gift ; send mine, if 
you please." 

In less than a quarter of an hour, a light carriage and 
swift horses rolled up with Malissof to the house of the ami- 
able spinster. 

" Anton Petrovitch ! " cried Pelagie at the top of her voice. 

" The same, come to apply to his kind neighbour, as we 
do to the saints for a favour which we are afraid of being re- 
fused by the Almighty." 

Pelagie, delighted with the comparison, displayed all her 
teeth in the most bewitching of smiles. 

" I have had a slight quarrel wdth Madame Berlaguine," 
proceeded the diplomatist. Pelagie opened her eyes wide. 
" I feel persuaded that you are the only person in the world 
who can make my peace with her ; I want you to tell her 
how distressed I am at what has happened, and to obtain my 
pardon. But pray go without losing a moment." 

"Without my dinner?" asked the lady, her appetite and 
curiosity struggling for the mastery. 

"Yes, dear friend," replied Malissof, with a squeeze of the 
hand ; " you can dine with her, her dinner hour is six, but 
there is not a moment to spare. Madame Pajarof has sent 
her horses to spare yours." 

" Very well, I will go ! " sighed Pelagie. " But whatever 
has happened?" 

" Madame Berlaguine will tell you all about it, make 
haste, my dear lady." 

" You are not going to marry Eugenie, at all events ? " 
suddenly exclaimed the jealous P61agie. 

" I ^ve you my word of honour that I am not going to 
marry her, but for the love of heaven and Christian charity, 
pray make haste and put an end to my sufferings ? " 

" I wish I could remove them sAi «j& ti-ss^X^j V ^"sKc^^iSs. 



204 THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 

Pelagie, throwing him a look of consummate coquetry over 
her shoulder, as he helped her into the carriage. " Where 
are you to receive your reply?" 

" At Madame Pajarof s," said Malissof, who had made his 
calculations. 

As he walked back to his old friend's house, his thoughts 
were still busy with this kind of mental arithmetic. "It 
is now five o'clock," said he to himself; "Pelagie will be 
there in an hour, they will wrangle for twenty minutes 
before they come to an understanding, and their explanations 
will take another twenty, that makes forty; an hour to drive 
back, that makes two hours and three quarters. If they lose 
no time by dining, they may possibly arrive before the 
ceremony is over." 



CHAPTER XL 



After a dinner touched by no one excepting the general, 
who, suddenly awakened, and made to thrust himself into 
imiform, was vainly endeavouring to restore order to the 
chaos of his ideas by the use of his knife and fork, the 
Pajarofs* guests assembled in the drawing-room. 

Eugenie, still wearing her white dress, which was, it is 
true, rather crumpled, had allowed her old friend to put her 
own diamonds round her neck and in her ears. " I shall 
never wear them again," said the old lady, " I am too old, 
jind I have no children; wear them for my sake, darling." 
A tulle veil had been found in some mysterious drawer, 
possibly the same which had adorned the head of P^lagie's 
former dairymaid, and some real orange blossom and foliage, 
hastily gathered in the orangery, formed a picturesque 
wreath, a thoiiasxxd times more eleg^tvat than the usual arti- 



THB GBNBROUS DIPLOMATIST. 205 

ficial semblance. The bride had been crying, and her eyes 
were red — but does not every bride cry ? 

The bridegroom looked very pale but determined ; if his 
mother-in-law had attempted to stop the marriage, he would 
probably have thrown her out of the window, and only re- 
gretted that the fall from the ground-floor was too slight to 
do her much harm. 

The carriages rolled up to the door ; the terrified general 
rushed out, convinced himself that it was not Madame 
Berlaguine, and helped every one in. The church was 
lighted, the choir did wonders, the bride advanced, led by 
Malissof, who laid her hand in that of the bridegroom. With 
him she went up to the altar, his already, for he who had 
just handed her over had given up his claims for ever. 

During the ceremony, the doors several times slammed 
noisily, and all heads turned instantly towards the dim 
end of the little church; it was, however, only a false 
alarm. 

Madame Pajarof's emotion caused her to keep pinching 
Malissofs arm, which was black and blue for several weeks 
aftor; at length, when the bride and bridegroom, wearing 
the gilt crowns, had made the circuit of the sacred desk, she 
relaxed her grip, much to the diplomatist's relief. " Now, 
let her come if she likes," observed the good lady half aloud, 
" the knot is irrevocably tied ! " 

The ceremony came quietly to an end ; the names of the 
bride and bridegroom were entered in the register, and the 
usual greetings exchanged, and they all returned to the 
carriages. Custom demands that the happy pair should 
drive off at full speed, and arrive first at the house, where the 
relation who is to welcome them stands in waiting. Fearing 
lest they should meet Madame Berlaguine, Malissof had ac- 
companied Madame Pajarof, and these two received the 
couple, and offered the bread and salt. Cham.^Qj^<^ -^^sk 



206 THE GBNEROUB DIPLOMATIST. 

brought ; but just as the general was raising the glass to his 
lips, Pelagie's voice was heard crying, "Is the wedding over? 
quite over 1 A wedding ! And without me ? " 

The door was thrown open, and Madame Berlaguine stood 
there, casting a wrathful glance around, till, catching sight 
of her daughter attired in white, she rushed upon her with 
such imp-ituosity as to upset the little servant who had just 
brought in the tray with the wine, dashing him against a 
chair, and smashing both bottles and glasses. 

Markof darted in front of his wife, shielding her with his 
body. ** You shall not strike her again, madame," said he, 
"I have just obtained the. right to protect her, even from 
yom* violence." 

** Wretch !" cried the mother-in-law, "you have robbed me 
of my daughter !" 

" Excuse me, madame," said Malissof, advancing ; " you 
gave her to me, but as Monsieur Markof was worthier than 
myself — " Madame Berlaguine wrung her hands in impotent 
itige, shrieked and went into violent hysterics. 

A genuine lit of hysterics is valuable in its effects, since it 
exhausts the whole frame and forces a reconciliation. After 
shrieking a great deal, and beating both her son-in-law and 
the general, who tried to be of assistance, the unfortunate 
mother at length softened under the influence of a bottle-full 
of water, every drop of which Madame Pajarof emptied on 
her face. Tears came, followed by the expected reconcili- 
ation. P^lagie's real feeling was one of delight, for Malissof 
was now free, and she asked at once for more champagne. 

"We have not tasted it," said she, " and we must drink the 
health of the young couple. What a pity that Madame 
Berlaguine should 'have upset the first supply !" added she, 
gazing regretfully at the shattered fragments. 

"All the better," returned Madame Pajarof, " for broken 
brings good hick." 



Itoii^ffriTrr 



THE GBNEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 207 



CHAPTER XII. 

Whilb this singular family party was enjoying the sweets 
of reconciliation, Malissof was returning to his solitary home 
through the fresh evening air under a starlit sky. At a bend 
of the avenue, he turned round to look at the house; the 
brilliantly lighted windows of the drawing-room formed a 
row of illuminated recesses along the facade, and further on, 
in a detached wing, shaded by the gloomy trees of the large 
garden, a light came and went, where the bridal chamber 
was being made ready. Malissof drained the cup of bitter- 
ness so long as the faint light shone through the brushwood, 
then with a sigh he sank back in his carriage. 

As soon as he reached home, he dismissed the servants, 
took up a light and went into his mother's room, closing the 
door behind him. The light of the candle danced on the 
blackened ceiling; the furniture cast long straggling shadows 
upon the old wainscoting and gloomy, dusty wall paper. 
Malissof seated himself at the piano; the first note he struck 
pierced his very brain ; he rose, closed the instrument and 
opened the window. The great branch of the lime-tree sprang 
forward and struck him on the face ; he drew back a step, 
sick at heart, and clasped his hands before this yawning gap 
into the black night, where the trees hid the stars, and all 
looked dark and gloomy. 

" Is this my reward for a good deed T said he to himself. 
" Ought I to suffer the torments of hell for having acted an 
honest part? Are not those yonder laughing at me while 
I stand here alone in my misery \ — 0\\, "Owsv^. \ ^y^iviS.^ ^sst- 



208 THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 

get !" cried he, as he pressed his clasped hands on his burn- 
ing forehead. 

An idea flashed across him and he rang the bell ; his 
servants were asleep and did not answer it; he strode across 
the hall with an angry step, and awoke the butler. " Some 
wine," said he, shaking him roughly. " Champagne, liqueurs, 
port — every sort of wine we have in the cellar. Bring in 
bottles and glasses." 

The old butler stared in astonishment. "Wine at this hour 
of the night, master," said he, "and you who never drink it?* 

" Do as I tell you !" returned Malissof harshly. The old 
man shook his grey head sadly and went down to the cellar. 

Malissof had returned to his mother's room ; he stood before 
the window and gazed out in despair on the gloomy night ; 
the sound of glasses clinking on the tray made him turn round. 

" Where shall I put them down, sir?" said the butler. " I 
beg your pardon, but I have never been in here since your 
honoured mother died. The images were placed on this round 
table during her last moments." 

*^ Carry all these into the dining-room," said Malissof, re- 
covering his self-controL He took up the candle and lighted 
the old servant, who withdrew after arranging everything 
for his master. 

When Malissof again found himself alone, he threw open 
the window ; he felt stifled everywhere ; then, taking a knife, 
he struck off" the neck of a champagne bottle and poured the 
foaming contents into a glass. " To the health of the newly- 
married couple ! " cried he in a mocking tone. 

His lips had scarcely touched the glass when he paused ; 
his hand fell slowly down on the table ; he glanced around 
him, shuddered, caught up bottle and glass, and threw them 
out into the garden. "I will be a man," said he, and learn 
to bear and suffer patiently." 
He took the candle and went into his study. Books of all 



N 



THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 209 



sorts lay scattered on his desk ; he turned over the pages of 
one, a volume of history, and threw it aside ; a treatise on 
physics ^ame next to hand, he opened it, took a sheet of 
paper, sat down to his writing-table, and began to jot down 
some figures. He worked on thus for two hours, and then 
began to feel weary. He rose up, stretched himself and 
went to his bedro'om. A small portrait of his mother hung 
on the wall ; he kissed it reverently, and gazed at it for some 
time with an air of satisfaction. " I can kiss my mother 
without a blush," said he to himself; " I am saved ! " 

He lay down, and was soon lost in the heavy slumber 
which follows on great exhaustion. 



CHAPTER XIII. 



Malissof was obliged, however, to see the young couple 
again. After a few days had elapsed, he came to Madame 
Pajarofs, the bearer of good tidings. " Here is my wedding- 
present," said he to the young bride, as he handed her an 
envelope. 

This was a letter from a great functionary, who was a 
friend of his. There were several places vacant, and Markof 
had the choice of two or three appointments equally calculated 
to suit him. 

" I have no shame in accepting it," said he, as he pressed 
the hand of his benefactor ; " after my first obligation to 
you, everything else seems a trifle." 

Eugenie smiled, and her tender glances rested first on one, 
then on the other of these two men, one of whom was dear 
to her as a father, and the other her ideal of love and happi- 
ness. 

The newly married couple ^eul io ^\», '^^X.^T^^o^^si^^ 

o 



210 THB GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 

tablished themselves in modest quarters. As soon as winter 
arrived, Anton Petrovitch hastened to join them. Madame 
Berlaguine was still rather resentful, and had been niggardly ; 
the new household had scanty means, and the little nest was 
short of many a comfort. Thanks to Malissof, a piano was 
soon introduced; flowers and verdant shrubs adorned the 
windows, and an easy couch invited the young matron to 
rest in her hours of weakness. Malissof passed several happy 
evenings at their house every week ; he was to stand spon- 
sor during the succeeding summer, and presents of all sorts 
destined for the expected godchild were accumulating in the 
cupboards, when he received a letter from Madame Pajarof. 

"I know you are courageous enough," wrote she, " calmly 
to face a painful possibility. There is much talk afloat in 
this neighbourhood about your attentions to Madame Markof. 
Pelagic, inconsolable at your departure, has become bitter- 
ness itself ; she talks of your lavishing delicate attentions on 
Eugenie, and says that, thanks to you, this infant will be 
rich before it is born, but that it is all quite right, for our 
first duty is to make a noble atonement for errors into which 
we may have lapsed — I give you these slanders at what they 
are worth, but I do not expect you to treat them with 
absolute indiff'erence ; I feel persuaded that you will find 
some means of silencing them." 

The perusal of this letter cut Malissof to the heart. His 
former love for Eugenie had been purified by passing through 
the fire of adversity ; he loved her still, but more as his 
daughter than as a young and charming woman. 

Her approaching maternity made her still more sacred in 

his eyes ; it seemed a kind of segis to avert all evil thoughts. 

And was he now called upon to renounce the joy of seeing 

this bliss, the work of his pious hands, expand into full bloom? 

must he banish himself into solitary exile, just when he had 

eBtahliahed a happy household wlio Yjexe 4ft\o\je^\ftVi\mL^ 



THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. 211 

• He hesitated for a while, and then went to see Markof 
alone in his office, where he put the letter into his hands. 
The young man read it, turned white with anger, and 
crumpled it up in a fury without saying a word. Malissof 
held out his hand, and Markof clasped it warmly in both his 
own. " You do not believe it T said the diplomatist, in a 
low voice. 

" Do not wound me by such a question !" was the reply. 

Malissof held out his arms, and Marij^of threw himself into 
them, with the exclamation, " My father !" 

" I shall go away," said Malissof, when they had regained 
their composure. I shall not stand sponsor to your son ; 
but that will not prevent my making him my heir." Markof 
tried to exclaim, but his friend silenced him. 

" This is the only pleasure I have left," continued he, " do 
not rob me of it. I will come and see you to-night for the 
last time. I will pretend that I am obliged to start on a 
little journey, and when I have left, you can explain to 
Eugenie that I must not return — not till I am quite an old 
man,'* added he with a sad smile. 

He made his appearance later on at Madame Markof s. 
They spent the evening as usual, the young wife talking 
away without the least constraint, in lively confidence. 
When the hour for parting came, Malissof rose. " I have to 
loave home for a time," said he. "May I kiss your wife, 
Markof ]" 

The young husband took his wife by the hand and led her 
up to their benefactor. Anton Petrovitch pressed Eugenie's 
head to his heart, imprinted on her brow a kiss whose bitter- 
ness will surely be reckoned to his account in paradise, and 
took his leave. When he was gone, Markof, in his turn, em- 
braced his wife and shed tears. 

Malissof left St. Petersburg the following day. Tke chvld^ 
who bad received his name o^ kix\.OTL Xi^iiot^ V^ ^'^^Nsrac^-w 



212 THB GBNHBOUS DIPLOMATIST. 

came into the world." A stranger's arms bore him to the 
font, but his real godfather never forgot his birthday in the 
distant foreign cities where he passed each anniversary in 
melancholy abstraction, but sent him the most splendid pre- 
sents and aflfectionate letters. 

Little Anton was, however, destined never to know his de- 
voted friend ; before he had learnt to write his name, Malis- 
sof had been laid to rest on the shores of a lovely lake, 
within a foreign cemetery. 

Pelagic has remained single. Madame Pajarof has never 
ceased to accuse her with having been the cause of Malissofs 
death. "If it were not for your infernal tongue," said she, 
" they might all be alive and happy this very moment. 

Pelagic told the whole country and ended by herself be- 
lieving that Malissof died for love of her — because he mis- 
took his own feelings. 

Little Anton is growing up now, but he never fails to pray 
night and morning for the soul of his real godfather, Anton 
Petrovitch Malissof. 



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